#Dj Gruff

[vvvounds]

poesia in musica

[gai0la]

consiglio musicale per niente richiesto, ma mi è uscita ascoltando brani casuali. azzardo canzone romantica italiana più sottovalutata di sempre.

Ho perso l'attimo, non ho più modo di tornare indietro manco se ne parla.

Resta solo polvere devo mangiarla, vorrei saperne di più, vorrei capire, vorrei arrivare in fondo a sta faccenda ma potrei impazzire.

Tu sei gentile ma il tuo sorriso è finto, non mi ha convinto.

Se ti conosco bene è perché t'ho dipinto, ora il tuo sguardo non fa più i miei giorni, non puoi viziarmi e non potrai incantarmi.

Non cercarmi non odiarmi, io t'amo tu m'ami anche se so che mi è difficile pensare di stare senza te domani.

[katedrawscomics]

so, hi. i wrote a book. and it's up on kickstarter right NOW. aaaaaaaaa

Hit The Ground Running is the first novel in an intended series of near-future crime capers!

Built on the bones of a former northern England shipbuilding town, Unity City is an extraterritorial city-state fully owned and operated by worldwide megacorp Imperium International LLC. Renji Starkweather has everything he needs to succeed within Unity: confidence, a fast mouth, and most importantly, a famous aunt. But despite his coveted position within the city’s enforcers, restless Renji has never quite fit in with the company values, and when an impulsive stunt involving an airship and far too many bladed weapons sends him plummeting into Unity's buried depths, he begins to see the real human cost of those record profits.

Thrown into the path of a notorious gang of criminals named The Loose Ends, Renji is keen to help them even the score; and once an unfair gas bill threatens to leave the city's poorest freezing in their own homes, he finds himself with a chance to do just that. Teaming up with a gruff single dad on a mission, a laid-back hacker DJ, and her furious bruiser of a sister, Renji has a plan involving an audacious heist of tonight’s company Christmas fundraiser– but in order to pull it off, he’ll have to dodge his vicious former boss and avoid his terrifying aunt, all while gaining the trust of his new allies. 

What could possibly go wrong…?

Here's the first two chapters as a sample, in which you get to meet Renji and see him immediately do something stupid.

(awesome cover by @bfleuter!)

[sherewrytes]

Ms. Good Grip

Inspired by this song

If you know you know. If you don't know how you know. Wanted to drop a fic with a more Caribbean inspo.

C.W : smut, Caribbean dialect, overstimulation, Caribbean black reader. Dom ony. Y/N be actin out

Your fav cousin wedding reception was in full swing. Drinks pouring, shots passing, weed smoke in the air all elders already left. You knew your boyfriend Ony wasn't used to Caribbean style parties. The pacing was completely from the usual parties he's used to. He was faded and tipsy, hands gripping your hips catching every whine you threw his way. You were completely bent over, if it wasn`t for your updo your hair would be touching the floor with how far you were bent over. You both took a break from dancing to get some drinks and more food before everyone's greedy ass ate it all up.

The song changed to Alkaline's on Fleek. As soon as you heard,

Whooo gyal yo pum, pum Gyal, yuh pum pum, Gyal, yuh pum pum on fleek.

You joined your other wild ass cousins in the dance circle and began whining. You made sure to position yourself right in front of Ony. You were secretly putting on all this show for him. All the weed and drinks had you wanting him. He looked so good in his semi casual fit You whined slowly at first slowly going lower to match the intro of the song staring him dead in his eyes while he smoked a joint with a bottle of Stag beer in his hand. His shades resting slightly lower on his nose. You watch him beckon you over with a finger, but you ignored him only because you loved riling him up at times, it makes the sex better.

You felt a hand grip your waist; you knew instantly it wasn't Ony's, but you decided to give the guy a lil dance. You cousin Shanice side eyed know mothing " Aye, you always lookin' for problems. You know how Ony's gonna react." You laughed saying "Oh well, small thing."

(Small thing- Trini slang for No big deal)

You heard the Dj scratch and the song changed to Spice's Jim Screechie

You were singing the song loud and clear while throwing it back on the random guy.

"And your gyal a watch you hard, but me no matter that Hold me tight and don't let me go Whine with me and me a whine with you"

You were giving him a wicked whine knowing for a fact that kinda whining is reserved for Ony but you thought "Oh well." The guy had one hand on your hips pulling you back against his hips while almost dry fuckin you on the makeshift dance floor. You felt a hand grab your wrist and pulled you. You looked up and saw it was Ony pulling you off the makeshift dance floor away from everyone.

"You got me fucked up; you know that. Are you goin out of your head or sum." Ony said his voice gruff with annoyance. You on the other hand were turned on by hearin' him this way. You smirked "It's just a dance Ony. I know you're suffering from not accustom. You bein' a black American I know you won't know much about my culture and shit."

You watch Ony's eye widen with annoyance "Oh really, you really wanna go that route with me. Imma give you a last chance to take that shit back." You rolled your eyes and giggled. "Still just a lil dance Ony." You attempted to walk away big mistake.

You knew it was your fault you were now in this situation. Your hands pressed and pinned against the toilet door with your back arched. Ony was feeding deep, hard strokes. You had to way to move, one of his hands pinned your hands against the door while the other was between your spread thighs rubbing your clit.

You felt your wetness run down your thigh, you were making a mess of yourself. You were coming again. You were pleading with him to take it easy on you "Ony 'm sor-sorry...please I can't"

"Nah, you can't, you weren't whining out there on him like you couldn't so nah you gon' take this dick. It's what you wanted right."

You were panting, moaning moaning his name as fucked you harder. You were now pressed against the door, his hand now pressed against the side of your neck. Between the hard slaps of his hips against yours and the song blaring in the background, you were losing your mind. You came twice already and feeling the third one fast approaching. He was rubbing your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out faster than you realized. Your lust filled sobs were shaking your body and his, it only made him want to fuck you harder.

"Ony! Ony! Ouuu fuck I'm sorry 'm sorry please please please slow down." He stopped only to turn you over so you can be face to face as he lifted you up and pinned your back against the door again. You were both face to face. Ony's eyed still red from smoking.

"You always tryna test me and push me Y/N huh. You don't fuckin listen....actin up and showin out for WHO. that dude..playin' too much."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your stomach clenched, you saw Ony smirk and slid his hand between both of your bodies and press down on your stomach. Your eyes widen while tears brimmed the corner. "Ouuu fuck! shit Ony..didn't mean to do it. why you fuckin me like this."

Ony tried to reign in his anger but her couldn't he felt it coming back, only pushing him to thrust deeper and harder "Don't play dumb with me Y/N you know I'm actin' like this."

Between Ony tearin your shit up and the music thumping in the background, you were close to another orgasm, tears now running down your face. Ony's hips practically pinning you between him and the door. Ony leaned in and kissed your tears away.

Ony finds your silence a bit annoying. After what felt like minutes, his hand gripped your throat. Through your teary eyes you could see you pushed Ony a bit to far but then again he knew how you were. He loved you for it.

Ony felt your body shivering against his. He kept feeding you deep, hard strokes which you were sure if the music wasn't loud as fuck everyone could hear. He felt his vexation simmering in his veins.

"Ony..please..I love you. I...Ony!" you pleaded. Ony rolled his eyes tired of hearing the same things over and over again come out of your mouth.

"Nah, love me, that's crazy Y/N. Do you really love me Y/N?" "I do Ony! I do. I won't do this shit again I swear...just.."

You were gripping around his dick so tightly he could feel his balls twitching and he fucked you against the door harder. He knew you loved pushing his buttons as much as you loved him. he wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, trying to go deep as he possibly can. You were so overstimulated you were shaking while pressed between the door and him.

"Fuck Y/N you're squeezin' me Gonna nut" you felt him fill you up groaning into your ear. You knew the amount he just came in you would leak out.

Ony sat you on the bathroom counter, helped you clean up then he cleaned up himself. You cleaned your face with make up wipes you had in your bag and reapplied your make up Ony smirked "You gon behave now my love" "Yes Ony I will"

You went back out the wedding party holding hands and smiling.

[multifandomimagin3s]

It's your birthday - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

A/N: Since it's my birthday today, thought I'd indulge myself so hope you guys enjoy :))

Summary: It's your birthday and the guys find out.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Depends on if he's close to you or not.

Mans has the emotional range of a sock, so realistically the most you'd probably get out of him is a gruff "Happy Birthday."

And that's only if he somewhat likes you - if he doesn't then he'd probably just say "You're getting old now, cunt." *Affectionately? Who knows.*

If you were part of the Team, he'd probably take the piss out of you for it.

Would definitely be the one who would tell the waiters that it was your birthday - even if it wasn't - just to embarrass you.

Nonetheless, despite all his teasing, you came back to your room that night to find a little gift on top of your bed spread; there was no name on it, but scrawled across the tag said "Happy Birthday, (Y/N)."

It was a hunting knife with your initials carved into the base of the handle.

You never questioned it but whenever he saw you use it, a small glint briefly sparkled in his eyes.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

He's lowkey annoyed that you never told him when your birthday was.

Would absolutely rope you and some of the Team into going out clubbing - Ghost refused but ended up turning up anyways; "Wanted to watch you make arses of yourselves."

I can just imagine him going to the bar and coming back with a tray of shots - the people who carry and sell the shots in clubs know to carry extra because he buys them all each time.

Would honestly have spent most, if not all, of his money if it hadn't been for Price being the voice of reason.

Would also be the type that would be telling anyone and everyone that it was your birthday so you guys could get free shots.

Orders you whatever food you want on the way back home aswell - kebab? Got it. Pizza? Done. Whatever you want, he'll stumble into the shop and get it.

Your birthday would be absolutely chaotic but it would be one to remember.

Captain John Price

He knew it was your birthday, he's seen your file - the fact that you hadn't mentioned it to anyone meant that you probably had a reason not to, so he didn't say anything.

Would probably wish you a casual 'happy birthday' on a passing, in his normal formal tone.

When Soap invites all the team out on your behalf for clubbing, he's reluctant to go - claims he's "too old for that shit."

But ends up going anyways, purely because he knows that when Soap gets drunk he's a bit of a liability and can easily spend way more than he should (and honestly, same).

Would buy you a drink - whatever you wanted, alcoholic or not.

And maybe, just maybe, if he's had a bit to drink and or is in a good mood, he'd let you wear his hat. Just this once.

But then Soap tried to put it on and said he was keeping it...

So he took the hat back like >:(

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He also knew when your birthday was - it came up in a conversation ages ago, and he has a great memory.

Also gets roped into your birthday night out by Soap.

He'd probably get just as drunk as Johnny but he'd be taking photos and posting onto his Snapchat Story, basically vlogging the whole night.

I can also see him surprising you with a cupcake, placing a birthday candle in it with a sheepish smile.

Would also buy you drinks but unlike Soap, he wouldn't be killing his bank account - self-control and all that.

Would get the DJ to play a birthday song for you - not the traditional cheesy one, but either 'It's My Birthday' by Will.I.Am or maybe 'Birthday' by Anne-Marie.

Alejandro Vargas

"Ah, feliz cumple!" *idk if this is correct, using this article for reference*

Like Soap, he wants to go all out for your birthday - if both teams were together at the time, it'd be one big chaotic night out.

He's a big flirt, regardless of what age you are he's complimenting you nonstop.

If he and Rudy get roped into the Night Out by Soap, Rudy and Price end up having to the be the voices of reason - Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro keep ordering shots; they managed to convince you into doing that challenge of getting a drink of everything from one end of the bar to the other.

Needless to say, you're all legless by the end of the night - well, Alejandro's still vertical but his alcohol tolerance is insane.

Would definitely want to spoil you - takes you shopping and tells you to pick anything that you want, don't worry about the price.

Honestly this is making me think of what Sugar Daddy! Alejandro would be like and it's giving me ideas...

Rudy Parra

This sweet guy would absolutely go out and get you a cake, maybe a balloon, and a card.

How did he know it was your birthday? He's a good listener, you'd been talking about your life outside of the military and had flippantly mentioned when your birthday was, which he noted.

Like Alejandro, he would honestly spoil you rotten.

If you both weren't deployed, he'd plan a trip away somewhere, surprising you with the tickets.

If he gets roped into going out by Alejandro - who was roped in by Soap's enthusiasm - he's practically glued to your side for most of the night.

Takes a bunch of candid pictures of you - they're honestly really good, he should be a photographer.

He'd probably have to stop Alejandro from feeding you and the others stronger shots - the jump from sambuca to jagerbombs to tequila was not a good idea.

He'd listen to your drunk ramblings with a smile on his face, letting you feed him your pizza.

He always remembers your birthday and makes each year memorable.

König

Finds out it's your birthday when your Superiors wish you a brief 'Happy Birthday' during training.

Straight away, he feels so guilty for not knowing but you reassured him that you hadn't really told anyone so he needn't worry.

Nonetheless, he'd still try and make the most of the rest of your birthday.

He'd cook for you - a traditional meal that his Mother taught him, and she used to make it for him on his birthday.

He'd run you a bath, give you a massage, and pamper you - he'd dote on you even more than usual, if that's even possible.

If you wanted to go out and do something, he'd do it - even with his social anxiety, he wants to see you happy so he'd bite the bullet and go for it.

If you wanted to stay in for a chill night and watch a movie, he's game for that too - lets you choose whatever film you want to watch, gets all your favourite snacks and gets all the fluffy blankets and pillows he can find to make a comfy spot on the couch.

He'd also secretly set a reminder on his phone for next year, so he never forgets.

He's honestly just so sweet.

[k-atsukibakugou]

congratulations on your two year anniversary!! Your writing is so amazing and I look forward to more great posts in the future :) if I may, I’d like to request a cosmo w/bakugou! Thank you!!

hihihi thank u!!! i hope u enjoy this, i got a little carried away with it birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

“can i get a… um, cosmo?” your eyes are bleary, half-lidded, the menu nearly rubbing the tip of your nose with how close you held it, squinting to read the drink descriptions for five minutes (4 minutes and 47 seconds, he timed you) before giving up on figuring out what was in the cocktail. besides, the vodka was all that mattered.

closing the menu, you attempted twice to return it neatly to the box at the middle of the counter, quickly giving up and sitting it beside the container. bakugou hasn’t moved a muscle since you sat across the bar from him, instead, watching you closely; the way you’d nearly tripped over the chair before sitting in it, and now struggling with the menu. when your eyes finally meet his, yours are damn near crossed, a moment of you staring at him before you focus on his steely red eyes, a single blond eyebrow raised as he studies you.

“you want a cosmo?”

your head looks like it weighs a tonne when you nod, falling back and forth like your neck can’t handle the weight of it, your eyes struggling to refocus on his still frame. he moves too fast for you to watch him, pulling a clean glass from beneath the bar, scooping ice into the bottom,holding the gun over it to fill to the brim with water and adding a lime to the rim.

“how many have you had?” he’s gruff when he slides the drink across the counter to you, watching you hold the glass with both hands and struggle to catch the straw between your lips.

“how many altogether or at this bar?” you take a sip of the ice cold water, making no comment on the lack of alcohol as he leaned on his forearms on the counter, still watching the way you gulped down the water, holding in a smile at the way you giggle avoiding his question.

“where are your friends?” the bar is quiet for a friday night, with only one other person at the bar, busy flirting for free drinks with kirishima. every other patron was either seated in a booth or dancing to usher on the dance floor; he doesn’t remember seeing you walk in, although with the dim lighting, he hadn’t noticed you at all until you were sitting right in front of him.

you gesture generally toward the group crowding at the front of the dj booth, everyone requesting a different song before the first song had even started, too busy to do more than a lazy wave of your hand in their direction. slurping the last few dregs of the cold water at the bottom of your glass, you place the glass back on the counter, smiling widely at him when he refills your cup again (and with a new lime), still oblivious to the lack of alcohol in the drinks.

shuffling closer on the stool, you take a sip of the “new” drink, “you like me or something?”

you’re blunter than you’d normally be with a bartender as gorgeous as he is, somehow seeing two of him makes you more confident. with a soft chuckle, he mirrors you, leaning closer over the bar to you, “what makes you say that?”

his eyes are twinkling when he looks at you, the red flashing blue and green under the strobe lights, suddenly glad for the quiet night if it meant sitting here listening to your drunken rambling. picking up your glass, you speak again, your words still slightly slurred, “two free drinks, and you’re talking to me… a lot.”

bakugou grins and laughs again, standing straight when he reaches behind the counter for his black coat, throwing it over the bend of his elbow, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

coyly, you answer him, your eyes a touch delayed tracking him walking from behind the bar, toying with the straw between your teeth, squinting again to read the nametag on his chest, “you wanna get out of here, bakugou?”

his eyes go wide before he laughs again, holding his hand out for you to stumble off the chair into his hold, keeping a steady grip on your wrist when he walks towards the exit, “what ever happened to ‘come here often’?”

his smile makes you giggle behind your hand, the giggle morphing into a hiccup by the time you were into the cool air of the night, the lack of humidity making goosebumps erupt under your skin, his thick jacket around your shoulders before you register the temperature difference.

“you work there.” you seem a little more sober now, your eyes staring straight into his, the water and cold air enough to get you aware of how warm his hand is around your wrist, how his hand feels at the small of your back guiding you outside toward the line of taxis in front of the bar.

“fine, what about you?”

“what about me?”

“do you come here often?”

“first time, actually.”

“you should.” he waves down one of the empty taxis, his skin still against yours as it pulls into the gutter in front of you.

“i should..?”

“come here more often, i’ll need that jacket back,” he opens the door for you, helping you down into the low seat despite your now slightly more sober state, “you gonna be alright? i'll let your friends know you got a taxi.”

 almost forgetting you’d just invited him home with you, you’re giddy when you smile up at him again, your cheeks warming when he makes one last promise to get your number when you’re sober, next time.

the promise of seeing him again has you smiling the whole way home, even more so when your friends text you all about how the hot bartender said he’d gotten you a lift home, how the tips of his ears were red when the other bartender asked where he’d been, how he answered the bar phone with a smile when you rang it far too late in the night, next time too long to wait to hear from him again.

[chaifootsteps]

just me or is Husk super miscast in Hazbin? I couldn't figure out what was bothering me so much about the voice so I did the obvious thing and went back and watched the pilot

pilot Husk has this gruff voice that sells the idea he's hard drinking and older than most of the cast (paranoid DJ has one dub of a comic where Angel wakes him up after a bender and Husk actually sounds like he's been hitting the bottle all night - he's super hoarse and rough and that energy's pretty absent from most of hazbin from what I can see)

I'm sure his Hazbin VA is great in other things but his voice sounds way too high, it just loses that whole jaded edge he used to have. hazbin husk just feels drained of edge and charisma - he used to be flawed like the others and now they just kind of mention he lost his Overlord status offhand and have him be the wise You Know What Your Problem Is? exposition character

side note, rewatching the pilot also made me long for the pilot designs, especially the ones with better/simpler color palettes like Angel Dust or especially Vaggie, who actually stood out due to not being red or pink

Literally the only thing Husk has going for him is the fact that people (rightfully) love Keith David. It doesn't fit him, it doesn't make sense with his character, everything about Husk is a mess, but it counts where it matters to Viv...big names, lots of money going into it.

[juniaships]

My NSR sona "Torrent" After the events of the first game she comes to Vinyl City to start a music career and ends up collaboration with Bunk Bed Junction. In reality she's trying to escape from her enemies, a group of puritans who wants to destroy all forms of music and art. They've already silenced her hometown so she's trying to warn Vinyl City of the new threat. Her main form of fighting is her keyboard.

I made two variants one w8th my skintone and the other in blue. In game she actually has lavender skin but the meiker i used didnt have it so i had to use cyan instead. Her hair is red to form a trio with zuke's blue and Mayday's blond. I included white to her wardribe since may and zuke wears black. Personality wise she's the Bones, intelligent but also gruff and even a bit flirty.

As for love interest i dunno. I know 1010 is a popular choice but they're too popular imho; i think she might go with the DJ Subatomic supernova. They'd match each other's freak.

https://meiker.io/play/12657/online.html

[ashbrat488]

Candy - Chapter 4

Word Count: 1612

Cassidy is cornered by August at the party with her boyfriend Joe., and meets an unexpected guest.

Minors DNI

Cassidy smoothed her hands down the thin fabric of her sage-colored silk dress as Joe helped her out of the car. She accepts his hand, linking her fingers through his as he led her into the house. A man in a black suit took their coats and her clutch and Joe grabbed her hand once more as he led her into the lounge, talking to some of his coworkers.

August stepped into the room, his eyes immediately falling on Cassidy in a form-fitting silk dress. It hugged her curves perfectly with a slit up the left side and a plunging neckline. He tensed, gritting his teeth, knowing that she was intentionally trying to provoke him.

Cassidy felt August's eyes on her before he came into her line of view. He sauntered in cockily, the way he entered every room he walked into. She kept her chin lifted as he approached and Joe turned them toward him.

"Mr. Walker, thank you so much for inviting us."

"Of course," August asserts, not taking his eyes off Cassidy but a brief moment to shake Joe's hand. "And I told you; call me August."

"Yes, of course," Joe mumbled, embarrassed as his face turned red.

"There is champagne in the kitchen. Why don't you go and get your date here something to drink." He suggested in a way that told Joe is was a command. He kept his eyes on Cassidy as Joe disappeared. "You look... sensational, Candy."

"It's Cassidy," she spits, glancing around to make sure no one heard him. Her eyes landed on his once more as she cocked her head to the side. "Do you like my dress?" She teased him, placing her hands behind her back, puffing out her chest as his eyes fell to her breasts, his jaw ticking as he did.

"Oh doll. Don't play with me," he threatened, his eyes dark when they finally fell back onto her eyes.

"Or what?" She whispered, clenching her thighs together as Joe appeared, handing her a flute of champagne. She wore the dress to provoke him, but otherwise, she hadn't planned on provoking him further. But as she stood in front of him, seeing how wound up he was, she couldn't help but tease. And a part of her, a large part, wanted him to whisk her away to carry out his silent threat. "Thank you, babe." She turned to smile at Joe, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she caught sight of August again, glaring daggers at her.

"Of course." Joe rested his hand on her lower back as she sipped her drink and he turned his attention to August. "I ju--"

"There plenty of food." August interrupted, causing Joe to tense and stop talking. "Make sure you eat something. Excuse me." August turned abruptly on his heels, crossing the room to where his wife, Sara was chatting with another couple.

"Well, that was rude." Cassidy pointed out, knowing fully well it was her that had bothered August. She smirked, finishing her champagne as she turned back to Joe beside her.

"He is a bit gruff." He sighs, shaking it off as he grabs her empty glass to hand to a passing waiter. "Are you hungry?"

"A little, yeah."

Joe nodded and made his way over to a table laden with snacks and cold appetizers. The music from the DJ started up and the room began to fill with chatter as people danced and drank.

They managed to avoid August for a while, dancing and eating and chatting with some of Joe's other coworkers. Around 11, she has to use the bathroom, excusing herself from Joe's side to stand in the long line outside the downstairs bathroom.

"There's a bathroom upstairs you can use. Last door on the left," Sara offers to Cassidy quietly as she leaned in behind her.

Cassidy turned to her with a smile. "Oh my gosh, thanks. I've had a bit too much champagne."

Sara chuckles, nodding as she motions toward the stairs. "Just be quiet so you don't wake up my son."

"Of course," Cassidy promises, ascending the stairs. She found the bathroom, using it quietly, and washed her hands. When she leaves the bathroom, she comes face to face with a small boy that couldn't have been more than five or six. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

The little boy with dark brown curls and big blue eyes shakes his head silently as he clutched onto the stuffed giraffe in his arms.

"Do you need to go potty?" She asks, taking a cautious step toward him, kneeling on the ground in front of him.

"No," he responds timidly. "I'm Simon."

She chuckles at his introduction, smiling back at him. "I'm Cassidy. Do y--"

"Simon," August's voice comes from behind Simon as he runs to his father.

Cassidy smiles, accepting August's hand to help her to her feet with one hand as he scooped his son up with his other arm. "Goodnight, Simon."

"Wait," his small voice stopped her as she sighed, turning back to them. "Will you read to me, Cassidy?"

She glanced at August as he sighed. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"He asked you to read to him. You're going to say no to a little boy?" August teased softly as Cassidy's mouth fell open at the blatant manipulation, glancing at Simon to see him frown.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright then." She grabbed Simon's hand as August set him back on his feet. He led her back to his room across from the bathroom and crawled back into his bed. He grabbed a book off his nightstand and handed it to her as she took a seat beside him on the bed.

August hovered in the doorway, watching as Cassidy read Simon his favorite book; I Need My Monster. He smiled as they laughed together before she closed the book. She ruffled his hair before she stood up, her gaze catching on August's as he moved to let her out of the room. He pressed a kiss to Simon's head and closed the door gently. Without a word, he grabbed Cassidy's hand and pulled her into his office.

"August," she warned as he pushed her up against the wall beside the door. He sealed his mouth over hers, taking her warning from her mouth as her hands went instinctually around his neck.

His hands roamed her body slowly as his mouth continued to claim hers. She moaned against his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist as his tongue slipped between her lips. Her hips thrust upward to meet his every touch as she melted against the wall beneath his touch. He groans loudly against her mouth, pressing her harder against the wall as his hand slipped underneath her dress to her panties that were soaked through.

She gasped, tightening her grip on his shoulders as he dragged her panties off, tossing them to the floor as he pressed himself hard against her. She panted heavily against his lips as his fingers slid inside of her.

His thumb rubbed her clit slowly, sending her soaring higher and higher until she could take no more.

"Stop," she muttered as he continued, ignoring her small pleas and attempts at pushing him away. She whined as she felt the orgasm build deep within her core. "Please," she begged weakly, feeling her climax beginning to subside, her body still contracting from the powerful release that overtook her. She moaned softly against his lips as he kissed her deeply. She breathed heavily, her hands flat on his chest, pushing him away.

This time he let her as he removed his hands from her, bringing his fingers up to his lips, savoring the taste of her. "God, I miss the way your pussy tastes..."

"You can't be doing that! Stay away from me, August!" She demands as he chuckles, snatching her panties before she can and shoves them into his top desk drawer.

"Mine," he growls as she glares daggers at him. "I need you," he admits as she turns to leave, causing her to pause at the door, hanging her head down. "I know you need me too. We're drawn together. You can't deny it. You can't deny me."

She whimpers, feeling his breath on her neck as he leaned to press a kiss to the base of her neck. "I can. And I will." She pulls the door open, leaving the room quickly as she tried to compose herself before joining an obviously drunk Joe that barely noticed her missing.

Throughout the night, August kept a watchful eye on Cassidy as she intentionally avoided direct interaction. She appeared to be hanging onto Joe's arm, putting on a facade of laughter and feigned interest in conversations. However, he could sense her true feelings of boredom seeping through. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, picturing Cassidy in his office, licking champagne off her naked flesh. Shaking off the provocative image, he cleared his throat and refocused on his wife, Sara, just as the countdown for the new year began.

Putting on a facade of their own, August smiled at Sara, fully aware that their own relationship was as much of a performance as Cassidy's act. He leaned in and kissed Sara, but his gaze was irresistibly drawn back to Cassidy, who was sharing a New Year's kiss with Joe across the room. Their eyes locked for a moment, and an intense desire surged within him. He clenched his fists, yearning for Cassidy's first kiss of the year to be with him. In that moment, he realized he wanted more than just a momentary encounter with her; he wanted Cassidy to be his, completely and unequivocally.

Chapter 5 Candy

Taglist If you want to be added or removed from my list, let me know 🫶🏻

@identity2212 , @alicedopey , @propelkingkitten , @critfailroll, @mrsevans90 , @carrie80reads , @thearcana-moonlight

[sgcstories]

Chapter 1: Whispers in the Magnolia Breeze

_________

Tinsley sat in her dimly lit bedroom, surrounded by vinyl records and old concert posters. The soft crackle of an Elvis Presley song played on her vintage turntable, filling the room with nostalgia. She traced her fingers over the faded cover of ‘All Shook Up”, imagining the King’s voice wrapping around her heart.

It had been years since she’d seen her grandmother’s eyes light up as she recounted stories of attending an Elvis concert. Well, only three years when Elvis was freshly new to the fame, that is. Tinsley’s fascination with the legendary singer had grown into something more—a connection that transcended time and space. She’d written countless fan-fiction stories, weaving romance and magic around Elvis’s iconic persona.

But lately, life had lost its sparkle. Her job at the local library felt mundane, and the Louisiana heat weighed heavily on her shoulders. Tinsley needed a change, a spark to reignite her passion.

She slide to the edge of her bed, the radio crackling with static as she tuned in to the late-night broadcast. The voice of the DJ filled the room, promising a world beyond the cotton fields of Louisiana—a world where music danced like fireflies on a summer night.

“And now,” the DJ drawled, “we’ve got a special treat for y’all. The King himself—Elvis Presley—live from Memphis!”

Tinsley’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered tales of Elvis—the boy who’d risen from poverty to stardom, whose hips swayed like forbidden fruit. Her grandmother had whispered stories of his concerts, the way he’d croon into the microphone, making women swoon and men tap their feet.

“Graceland,” the DJ continued, “where Elvis lives like a king. The gates are open, folks. If you’re ever in Memphis, pay a visit. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of the legend.”

Memphis. Graceland. The name hung in the air like a secret promise. Tinsley traced her fingers over the faded map on her bedroom wall. The distance seemed insurmountable, but the pull was undeniable. She’d saved every penny from her job at the library, dreaming of a chance encounter with the King.

“Why not?” she whispered to the moon outside her window. “Why not chase the echoes of a faded melody all the way to Graceland?”

And so, with a worn suitcase and a heart full of longing, Tinsley boarded the Greyhound bus. The engine roared to life, carrying her across state lines, past rolling hills and sleepy towns. She imagined Elvis’s voice in the wind, urging her forward.

The road stretched ahead, promising adventure, romance, and maybe—just maybe—a glimpse of the man who’d stolen her heart through vinyl grooves and late-night broadcasts.

The Greyhound bus rattled to a stop, and Tinsley stepped onto the moon-soaked pavement of Memphis. The air smelled of barbecue and possibility.

She hailed a taxi, her heart racing. “To Graceland, please.”

The driver glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. “Elvis fan?”

Tinsley nodded, gripping her suitcase. The taxi driver’s gruff voice filled the cab as they wound through the streets of Memphis. His eyes met Tinsley’s in the rear-view mirror again, and he smirked.

“Graceland, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Another one of those Elvis fanatics, I suppose.”

Tinsley clenched her fists. She’d expected excitement, camaraderie—even a shared love for the King. Instead, she got this.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady. “Big fan.”

The driver scoffed. “Elvis, the heartthrob. The man who makes all the girls swoon. You know, he ain’t nothin’ special. Just a hillbilly with a guitar.”

Tinsley’s knuckled turned white. She glanced out the window, catching glimpses of neon signs and bustling crowds. The heart of Memphis beckoned, but the taxi driver’s words hung heavy.

“Seen it all,” he continued, eyes fixed on the road. “Women cryin’, faintin’, throwin’ their panties at him. Ridiculous, if you ask me.”

Tinsley’s mind raced. She’d dreamed of this pilgrimage—the chance to stand where Elvis has stood, to feel the music in her bones. But now, doubt crept in. Was she just another starry-eyed girl?

As they pulled up to a hotel, the driver smirked again. “Enjoy your stay, sweetheart. Maybe Elvis himself will serenade you in your dreams.”

Tinsley stepped out of the cab, her resolve firm. She wouldn’t let this driver’s bitterness tarnish her journey. Graceland awaited, and she’d find her own magic amid the echoes of a faded melody.

“Maybe,” she thought, “just maybe.”

As she stepped into the bustling lobby of the hotel, the air crackled with excitement. The walls seemed to pulse with Elvis’s rhythm, and she was no longer alone in her devotion. Fan girls—some in poodle skirts, others with victory rolls in their hair—gathered around a vintage jukebox, their eyes shining like sequins.

They whispered in hushed tones, sharing stories of Elvis sightings and secret rendezvous. One girl clutched a vinyl record, her trembling fingers tracing the grooves as if seeking a connection to the King himself. Another wore heart-shaped sunglasses, swaying to an imaginary beat.

Tinsley’s heart swelled. She’d found her tribe—the dreamers, the romantics, the ones who believed that music could bridge time and space. They exchanged knowing glances, as if they’d all traveled from different corners of the world to be here, united by their love for the man who’d changed the course of rock ‘n’ roll.

The hotel manager, a stout woman with a beehive hairdo, greeted Tinsley. “Welcome, sugar. Room 217, just up the stairs and down the hall. And don’t miss the Elvis-themed karaoke tonight. You might just catch a glimpse of the King himself.”

Tinsley nodded, her eyes scanning the lobby one last time. She imagined Elvis striding through the door, guitar slung over his shoulder, that crooked smiled lighting up the room. Maybe he’d serenade her under the neon glow, and their love story would begin—a melody woven into the fabric of Graceland.

With a flutter of anticipation, Tinsley headed toward her room, leaving behind the fan girls and their shared dreams. The echoes of Elvis followed her up the stairs and down the hallway, promising magic and romance in every note.

Tinsley closed the door to her room, the faded wallpaper whispering secrets of countless guests who’d passed through. The bed sagged under her weight, and she sank onto it, her emotions swirling like a tempest.

The mirror reflected her tired eyes, framed by loose blonde curls that had rebelled against her hairpins during the bus ride. She traced the lines on her face—the laugh lines from summers spent with her grandmother, the worry lines etched by life’s disappointments.

“Why would a man like Elvis fall for a girl like me?” she wondered aloud, her voice swallowed by the room’s silence. “There’s so many beautiful women out there—women who’d make his heart skip a beat, just like his songs do to me.”

Outside, the neon sign blinked, mocking her vulnerability. Tinsley imagined the other guests—the fan girls with their doe eyes and painted lips. They’d swoon, giggle, and maybe even catch a glimpse of the King. But her? She was just a speck in a grand tapestry of Elvis’s legend.

She pulled out her notebook—the love notes she’d written over the years. Each page held a piece of her heart, inked with longing and dreams. But now, doubt crept in. What did she have to offer? A few scribbled words and a heart that beat out of sync with the world.

“Maybe,” she thought aloud, “I should’ve stayed in Louisiana. Kept my fantasies safe within those four walls.”

But then she remembered the radio, the crackling voice of the DJ, and the promise of Graceland. She’d come this far, chasing whispers and melodies. Maybe, just maybe, she could find her own love story—one that defied logic and reason.

As the neon glow seeped through the curtains, Tinsley made a silent vow. She’d step out of her room, face the fan girls, and embrace the magic of Memphis. Because sometimes, even a girl like her deserves a chance at a heartbreakingly beautiful melody. So she wiped away a tear, adjusted her hairpin, and stepped back into the hallway.

The neon glow spilled onto Beale Street, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the cobblestone pavement. Tinsley stepped out of the hotel, her heart racing. The fan girls had dispersed, leaving behind an electric energy—the kind that only Memphis could conjure.

She wandered past blues clubs, their melodies seeping through the open doorways. Musicians strummed guitars, their raspy voices weaving tales of heartache and redemption. Tinsley paused, leaning against a lamp post, her eyes closed. The music wrapped around her like a lover’s embrace.

“Elvis sang here,” she thought. “Maybe he stood on this very spot, his hips swaying, igniting souls.”

As she walked, she encountered characters straight out of a jukebox ballad. A street vendor sold fried catfish, promising it was the secret to eternal love. An old man with silver hair played chess with a ghost—his laughter echoing into the night.

Tinsley’s heart raced even more as she stepped into a dimly lit club on Beale Street. The air smelled of cigarette smoke and bourbon, and the blues band wailed on stage. The crowd swayed, lost in the rhythm.

And then she saw him.

A man at the bar, bathed in neon. His hair—dark and slicked back—caught the light. The collar of his shirt was open, revealing a hint of his chest. He turned, and their eyes locked—a moment that stretched into eternity.

Elvis? Impossible. But the resemblance—the way he moved, the half-smile—sent shivers down Tinsley’s spine. She pushed through the throng, heart pounding. The man had vanished into the shadows, leaving behind an echo of mystery.

“Was it him?” she wondered. “Or just someone who looked like him?”

Tinsley’s heart weighed heavy as she stepped out of the dimly lit bar. The neon glow seemed harsh now, mocking her hopes. The blues music faded into the night, leaving behind an ache that settled deep within her chest.

“Why did I think it was him?” she wondered, her steps sluggish. “Elvis, the King—what chance did I have?”

The streets of Memphis stretched before her, a maze of memories and missed opportunities. She leaned against a lamp post, staring at the moon—a distant witness to her heartache. The river flowed nearby, its current carrying secrets and lost dreams.

“Maybe I’m just another fan girl chasing echoes,” she thought.

But then she remembered the notebook—the love notes she’d penned, the whispers of her soul. Maybe Elvis wasn’t the answer. Maybe the magic lay in her own words, in the melodies she’d woven.

With renewed determination, Tinsley wiped away a tear. She’d keep walking, keep searching. Because sometimes, even when the King remained elusive, the journey itself held its own kind of beauty.

Tinsley retraced her steps back to the hotel. Her heart still carried the weight of missed chances—the glimpse of the man who might have been Elvis, or perhaps just a figment of her longing.

The hotel’s entrance welcomes her—a familiar refuge. The lobby was dimly lit, the blues music now a distant memory. The manager smiled as Tinsley passed by, as if understanding the ache that clung to her.

In her room, she closed the door behind her. The bed seemed softer, the walls more forgiving. She sank onto the edge, staring out the window at Graceland’s distant lights. The notebook lay on the nightstand, its pages filled with love notes and unanswered questions.

“Maybe the magic isn’t in finding Elvis. Maybe it’s in the journey—the echoes, the melodies, and the hope,” she thought aloud.

Tinsley settled into her room. She’d rest, dream, and wake up to a new day—a day where the King might remain elusive, but her heart would keep singing its bittersweet tune.

The room was hushed, the moon peeking through the curtains. Tinsley lay on the bed, her eyes heavy from the evening’s adventures. As she closed her eyes, the blues melody still echoed in her ears. But now, they transformed—shifting into something softer, more intimate. The rhythm of the river became a lullaby.

[vvvounds]

scratchami tutta

[terminallycapricious76]

There's some of my Crack ships and headcanons.

First of all.

Naomi x gamzee makara (even if Naomi hit gamzee on the head with her paper fan. It doesn't affect him and instead he become honking machine. Even if she harden the paper fan. Naomi genuinely thought that gamzee enjoy pain but it turns out that her paper fan doesn't affect the highblood and it's harmless.)

Cupid Valentine x sollux captor (cupid genuinely thought all yellow-blood trolls smell like chicken noodle but it turns out sollux doesn't know how to cook and would burn the kitchen and only eat chicken noodle. Also her biblical accurate Seraphim form doesn't look intimidating to him and he described it as ju2t giiant floating eyeball wiith two much wiing2)

Equius Zahhak x Sagittarius Ellyn (Ellyn is tan woman who's heavy alcoholic from germany Soo she sounds very angry when speak German which lead Equius to think she's angry or scolded him but in reality she just drunkly tease him. Call him Mann mit Eselsohren or man with donkey ears in German. Wonder who give him the rights to look this cute and promise to take him to farm to see horses. (I hc him to have ears that looks like donkey ears😼.)

Riku Kuroi x Eridan Ampora. (Riku is french so she loves to tease him about his high-blood status, often calling him “mon poisson noble” (my noble fish) whenever he’s being overly dramatic. Riku finds Eridan's flair for the dramatic both amusing and charming and would often softly bite his fins know how sensitive they are just to get a reaction out of him.

Dj clover x Terezi.

(DJ Clover has a serious, no-nonsense personality when she's on the job, especially when it comes to her dj duties, Terezi, with her flirty and playful demeanor, often finds herself playfully teasing Clover about being “4ll work 4nd no pl4y” Clover rolls her eyes but secretly enjoys the challenge Terezi presents. The Flirtation Game: Terezi loves to tease Clover about her serious nature, often saying things like, “You n33d To l1ght3n up, or you m1ght just turn 1nto 4 st4tu3!” Clover can’t help but smirk at Terezi’s antics, knowing that the flirty troll somehow manages to bring a smile to her face even if it annoys her.)

Lady Luck x Kanaya: (both enjoy Fashion and gardening.. Mea act as model for Kanaya whenever nobody wants to modeling for Kanaya. They're creative, motherly and caring, willing to care and being shoulder to cry on for others. taking a particular interest in fashion and colorful patterns. As well as being avid reader of horror and romance novels and enjoy hosting tea parties.)

Dice x Vriska (dice doesn't like Vriska because of her antagonistic, bitchy, manipulative behaviors where consequences matter to him they don't matter to her and he dislike when she blame the bad things that happen to her on her bad luck instead of her behaviors. Him cares deeply for people and consequences was influenced by his parents who raise him in strict household so he doesn't turned out to be spoiled and dependent child that depend on them. He doesn't mind put her in her place and call her out for terrible behaviors. however she still flirt with him due to the fact that they're both Enjoy dice and has apparent skill in gambling. Dice can come off as gruff, standoffish, sarcastic, reasonable, but surprisingly patient and able to take a lot of outlandish events in his stride, He is very observant, having the ability to read people and understand their problems well (even when they don't themselves), which makes him quick to notice when someone isn't being genuine with him, something he doesn't enjoy. He values authenticity. Also his name isn't dice and it's just nickname. It's actually Faust de Valois.)

Undine x feferi (feferi and Undine like to watch Ariel or any cartoons with mermaids in it. Undine is mermaid and she can turn into human whenever she wants. However her fins and gills still exist so they often go on water-related dates :3 While sea dwellers are not qualified mermaids but rather a sub-race of troll distinct from the commoners by mutation and habitat, a caste which rules over the entire species. They still have fins as ears and gills on side of their necks and some of them live in sea while small part of them don't and live in cities. Undine is just nickname. her actually name is Amphitrite bc I'm obsessed with Greek mythology.)

Archangel meep x Dirk strider

(once Ezekiel left a portal that lead to heaven and stuff open. So dirk (being guy with deep fascination and curiosity) went in the while angels were having a meeting While Ezekiel was genuinely surprise like Sera when Sir Pentious proved redemption was possible. while cupid Valentine (Ezekiel little sister) and god were like "oh you have boyfriend who is human that's cool anyway show him around the place and being nice to him." So Ezekiel show him around and once they reach to Ezekiel room's. Dirk get attracted to angelic horse named Sleipnir and start begging Ezekiel to let him ride the horse even though Ezekiel didn't want to interrupt the horse who was sleeping and ended up wake up the horse bc dirk won't stop giving him the sad puppy eyes and ended up flying around the heaven on Sleipnir. )

[denim-mixtapes]

Not Another Moment to Waste (Hot Summer Night Part 3 of 4)

Word Count: 5k Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Tags: EXPLICIT SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI - Rockstar/Radio DJ AU, canon divergence, set in 1992 and Eddie has more piercings and tattoos than ever, thigh riding, semi public sex, unprotected p in v sex (do not do this), light spanking, pet names instead of y/n (sweetheart, doll, baby), quickie in a broom closet (the smut scene is VERY BRIEF, this is a set up for a 4th and final part that is all smut no plot).

Summary: An emergency at work and a request direct from Steve Harrington lands you in Indianapolis, working before the Corroded Coffin show, and Eddie Munson fulfils his promise to take you backstage and show you a good time.

[AO3] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part4 COMING SOON]

yes that is a photo of hozier in the header no i do not want to elaborate it just WORKS okay

When Eddie Munson promised to bring you backstage at the next corroded coffin show, you half took it as an empty gesture. Nothing more than a few pretty words murmured into your ear while still high off the adrenaline of a quick fuck in a bar bathroom. 

It was great while it lasted, sure, but you were just another girl in another city and at the end of the day, Indianapolis was the next city on the list. A new city with new groupies and new distractions. He’s already probably forgotten about you, or at least moved on. 

So when you’re catching lunch before getting ready for work, you’re surprised to get a page from your station manager marked URGENT. 

Shouldering your way into the phone booth outside of your favorite deli, you dig out change and dial his office number with a huff. 

“WKZT, this is Gary,” his gruff voice echoed through the pay phone. 

“Hey, it’s me, what’s the situation?”

“Yeah, so,” he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Change of plans. Dave’s wife went into labor early so he can’t make the trip out to Indy for the Corroded Coffin gig tonight. Now normally I would send someone else in his place but we got a call from Steve Harrington specifically requesting that you make an appearance.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, “Gary, I’m not– I don’t do live events.” 

Your boss grumbles, a heaviness in his voice that suggests he isn’t happy about this turn of events either, “Like I don't know that. Do you think I’d send you if I had any other option?” There’s a long pause on his end followed by another grunt of disinterest. “Look, Jimmie is going too, he can handle all the on air shit without his co-host, but I need someone there running tech shit. Just make sure nothing goes awry with the broadcast and then you’re scot free, free to enjoy the free concert with damn good seats thanks to Harrington.” 

He can clearly hear the rattling of the phone booth as you hit your forehead against it, contemplating. On one hand, if the band’s management was sending for you, it must mean something good, right? But on the other, you have to spend two hours in the van with your unbearable coworker Jimmie – both ways – and work a live event, something you have absolutely no experience in. 

As if he could sense your hesitation, Gary continued, “The station will put you up for the night, so you won’t be headed back late at night, and you’ll be paid for the mileage. Please, kid, we need you.” 

“Mileage and the bonus event pay Dave would have gotten?” You push. 

There’s a long pause before he gives in. “Fine. But you have to bunk with Jimmie in that case.” 

“I guess I’ll take it,” you mumble, thankful for the tiny victory at least. 

Your boss exclaims on the other end of the line, a sound of relief and uncharacteristic gratitude. He tells you to get packed and get to the station as soon as possible, you have a long drive ahead of you and an earlier call time than usual. 

Packing. 

A task much easier said than done. 

Normally for work trips in the past, you only threw in the essentials. Jeans, station-branded tee shirts, a blazer for professionalism, and comfy, worn in combat boots. Now, staring into your wardrobe, you’re overthinking everything. 

Harrington requested that the station send you. That must mean that Eddie was asking for you, that maybe his whispered promise of pulling you backstage for another roll in the hay had some truth behind it after all. The thought has you squirming in anticipation as you stare down your clothing. 

A look at the clock reminds you of your time crunch, and you throw a few options in a bag, hoping for a quick trip and some time to freshen up in your hotel room before you have to head to the concert. 

About an hour into your drive to Indianapolis, you’re starting to wonder if Eddie Munson is actually worth all this trouble. 

Jimmie Page was exactly the type of man that made you feel like you didn’t belong in this industry. He changed his last name earlier on in his career in the hopes that daft women would confuse him with the musician of the same name. Everything he did and said was calculated, strategically planned to garner attention from the opposite sex, and he was cocky in the fact that it often worked. Not on you. From the moment you started at the station, he saw you as a challenge, but finally after years of turning down his advances (and more than one threat to call HR) he instead started treating you like ‘one of the boys.’

That’s how you got here now, in the passenger seat of the vinyl-wrapped station van, listening to him tell you stories as if you were just one of the guys. Crude, vulgar, accompanied with hand motions that jerked the steering wheel nauseatingly. You’re honestly not sure you prefer this to getting hit on. 

By the time you make it to your hotel to check in, through the suffocating elevator ride, and into the dimly lit room, his voice is practically white noise roaring in your ears. 

You throw your duffel onto one of the beds (thanking Gary, Dawn, and all that is holy that there are two of them), and start digging through it, tossing clothing items and makeup products on the bed in order to start getting ready. 

There’s a low whistle behind you, the sound piercing you between the eyes to awaken the headache that this man always seems to cause. 

“That’s a lot of face paint there, honey.” The endearment is sour on his lips, churning your stomach in all the wrong ways. His eyes turn to the scrap of leather in your hand. “Short skirt too. You hoping to attract some metalhead wannabe tonight? Maybe a greasy little merch boy? I can see how that would seem like the next best thing to the ones up on stage just out of reach in your eyes.” 

Oh if only you knew. 

You bite back the snide comment and push past him roughly, making your way to the bathroom. 

“Just trying to blend in, asshole.”

“Well,” he shouts to be heard through the bathroom door, “we can’t all be prudes like you. So don’t you worry about me if I don’t show up back here till mornin’, yeah?” 

“I should be so lucky.” You mumble to your reflection. 

—

Thankfully, the broadcast goes off without a hitch. You stay in the van manning the equipment while Jimmie parades around outside, interviewing passerby, giving out stickers and tee shirts, and asking them to introduce the next song. He even manages to catch Gareth before he heads backstage and gets him to give another shout out. It isn’t a long show, they never are at live events, which you’re thankful for, and soon enough you’re both packing away work and heading inside the venue. 

You’re worried you’ll have to spend the whole evening with your coworker, but when the usher scans your badges, you’re separated. You are told to stay put for a moment while Jimmie is led to his seat in the press area, off to the side and a little further back than desirable, and he looks at you with a furrowed brow that you only reply to with a shrug. 

Thank. Fuck.

The usher speaks into a headset and tells you to wait there, someone will be there to collect you momentarily. 

Turns out, someone is Dustin Henderson himself, dressed exactly as you would have expected in a Weird-Al-inspired patterned button down, jeans, and an oversized sport coat, flanked by two more men in actual suits that you don’t recognize. 

“(Y/N), Hi!” He greets, taking your hand and shaking it with both of his, comically vigorous. “So glad you could make it.” 

“Uh, hi,” you return his fond gesture, but point over your shoulder in the direction of the press area. “Am I not…there? I thought this was a press badge.” 

“It is, technically, but Munson wouldn’t have it.” Henderson turns and starts walking, confident that you’ll follow. Which you do, eyes trained on the short mess of curls in front of you. He keeps talking to the open air in front of him, gesturing wildly in a way that suggests he’s never been able to keep his hands still. “I don’t know if you’re aware, young lady, but you’ve made quite the impression on our frontman.” 

Your face twists in confusion as he ducks down a quieter hallway, away from the noise of fans and merch tables. “Young lady?” You scoff, “What are you, nineteen?” 

“Twenty-one.” He corrects coolly over his shoulder.

Holding up your hands in defense, you stifle a laugh and continue to follow him down another hallway and through a set of double doors. 

They lead you right up side-stage. Beside you sits a rack of guitars, you recognize Eddie’s iconic red Warlock, as well as another deep emerald green number he’s known to favor and a simple wooden-body acoustic. Curtains obscure your view of the growing crowd and offer you cover from their view, but your vantage point offers you the perfect line of sight across the stage, if not a little bit skewed because it’s from a different angle. 

Smoke pours in from the fog machines underfoot as the opening band plays their set, guitar techs and various venue employees shuffle around you to do their work but you’re never made to feel in the way. 

Dustin gestures to a pile of rolling trunks and equipment cases and smiles kindly, “more than welcome to take a seat throughout the show, but I like the view from here best. Steve and I will be around if you need anything just let one of us know.” 

You nod and thank him with a sweet smile, a little overwhelmed at the special treatment, but then there’s a ruckus from behind you and Dustin is rolling his eyes and running off toward it, trying not to seem as frantic about the commotion as he clearly is. 

And then you’re alone. 

You enjoy the opening band, feeling the music as much as you’re hearing it, the nearby amplifiers thrumming along with the beat, and soon enough the frontman is introducing the last song. The commotion around you grows louder, more excited as more people filter in. Across the stage in the other wing, Jeff sees you and raises a hand in a kind wave, which you return happily. There’s no way you could stop yourself from looking around for a familiar head of hair framing that signature cocky smile. Peeking over your shoulder, you don’t see anyone you recognize except for Dustin, and across the way you can see the rest of the band, but Eddie is nowhere to be seen. 

Until hands grip your waist from behind, making you yelp. 

The sound of the opening band introducing Corroded Coffin and the roar of the crowd are syrupy in your ears at Eddie’s proximity. His hands squeeze where they hold your waist with a sense of familiarity you didn’t expect from him, and his words cut through the dull white noise around you when he murmurs in your ear. It’s a soft, pointed greeting of, “sweetheart.” 

“You treat all your interviewers this special?” You tease, turning in his grasp to gaze up at him through your lashes. 

“Definitely not.” He lets out a dark chuckle, one hand leaving your waist to grab roughly at your jaw and pull your face toward his for a hurried kiss. The hand still on your waist travels south, splaying wide over your ass, his long fingers teasing at the hem of your skirt that doesn’t land much lower than the crease of your cheeks. His voice lowers even further,  “but then, they don’t all look nearly this good in leather.”

Behind him an impatient guitar tech clears their throat, and Eddie smirks. Your lips just barely brush his as you breathe, “break a leg.” 

It’s with a dark chuckle and swift swat where his hand was resting on the swell of your ass that he mutters his own, “thanks, angel.” He finally detaches from you, much to your dismay, and allows the guitar tech to adorn him with his beloved Warlock. Onstage, The Freak matches the energy of the crowd with the bass-heavy introduction to Upside Down, and blanketed in the sounds of cheering fans and his first grungy, prolonged chord of the song, Eddie stalks backward slowly toward the stage. Eyes dropping from yours to take in your figure appreciatively, at the very last moment before he breaks onto the stage he adds on, “but all the luck I need is standing right there in a worn out pair of Docs.” 

It’s lame. It’s so lame that you can’t stop your eyes from rolling at his sentiment, but as he turns to run out and greet his fans, he catches the flush creeping up your neck. 

—

The show is electric. A whirlwind of wicked instrumental solos and Eddie’s powerful vocals, of the roar of a pleased crowd, fabricated smoke and sparks from cheap pyrotechnics, warm stage lights and adrenaline and speakers rattling your chest. Every time Eddie casts a sidelong glance your way, bathed in red stagelight and sweat and pure sex, you return the look with a dramatic blown kiss or an encouraging gesture, thinly disguising the way that every single one of those looks settles right between your legs. 

After a show stopping first half of the setlist, allowing a moment for the deafening roar of the crowd to settle on the room, Eddie slings the Warlock to hang off his back as he approaches the mic stand, cupping both hands around it to speak in a hush. 

“What do you say we give these goons a break?” He asks, voice low and sultry. There’s a hesitation in the crowd, but it’s filled with unsure excitement. Even you find yourself leaning in, waiting to see what he’s got up his sleeve. “What you you say, we make this a little more intimate between you and I? Huh? Would you like that, Indy?” The smile that lights up his face at the enthusiastic screaming from his fans is so boyishly gleeful and out of character that it almost catches you off guard. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of the teenager he was before the murder charges. Before the bandwagon accusations of a hometown that was always against him. Before the loss of a dear friend. The teenager who played DnD and covers-only gigs with these same friends, dreaming of doing exactly this one day. He chuckles into the microphone, then, gaze lingering on you through kissed lashes, he croons, “well then why don’t you allow me a moment to slip into a little something more comfortable and I’ll be right back.” 

Soundtracked by house music, an outburst of applause and excited hollering, all four of them run off the stage toward you. Mirroring their excited energy, you high five the guys as they run past you toward Steve and Dustin who are waiting with bottled water and encouraging grins. You expect Eddie to follow suit, but he beelines for you, handing off the Warlock to the guitar tech with his wicked smile trained on you. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s on you, taking your face in both hands and smacking a hard, hurried kiss on your lips. 

Breathless and sweat slick and warm, he asks, “enjoying the show?” 

“Mmm,” you hum, pressing your lips together in a tight smile and nodding as much as his hold on you would allow. “Very much. They love you out there!” 

Still rushed, not wanting to leave too much dead air on stage, he pulls away and shrugs out of the denim battle vest he’s been wearing all night. Tugging at the collar of his torn up black tank top, he tears it off and throws it over your shoulder to another stage hand. You’re only given a brief moment to appreciate the sight before another shirt is tossed back. “Oh, they ain’t seen nothing yet,” he growls, clearly referencing the crowd but directing his energy right at you. He dons the new shirt, a black and white baseball tee boasting the logo of – if your research is correct – his high school DnD group the Hellfire Club, and takes the acoustic guitar being thrust into his arms. Behind the wall of speakers, the crowd has started to chant his name and he basks in it, grinning. “Time to go bare my soul,” he sighs, winking in your direction and turning in place to run back out to his adoring fans, the first few notes of Wake Up ringing through the sound system. 

Somewhere between the first and second encore, you’re sent for again. The band had run off to the opposite end of the stage, much to your disappointment, but as you watch their close knit huddle fondly, it’s Steve’s turn to sidle up beside you. 

You draw a breath to greet him, but the chant of Master! Master! Master! From the crowd demanding Eddie’s infamous cover of Metallica’s Master of Puppets all but drowns you out. Chuckling, you lean in closer and shout, “is it like this every night!?” 

“Hm,” Steve muses, “not always. But we’re so close to our hometown, Indy crowds always deliver.” A beat of quiet passes between you before he continues, “I was asked to bring you back to the green room, if you want to follow me.” 

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you concede, craning your neck as you follow him to watch them take the stage again. 

Through more corridors and ducking around venue employees, you follow Steve Harrington back past the line of fans and wannabe groupies claiming they know this person or the other to try and make it backstage, toward the irritated security guard who waves Steve through with ease. From the line you can hear gripes from girls in too-tight shirts fresh from the merch table, who even is she? and what’s so special about that one? and why does she get to go back there!? As much as you wish it didn’t, pride swells in your chest at their jealousy. As you pass the guard adamantly telling someone that a press badge doesn’t get them past this point, you turn and let out a surprised laugh at the WKZT polo shirt and Jimmie’s shocked guffaw of your name. 

You offer him a cocky smile and the briefest wiggle of your fingers before turning back around to continue chasing after Harrington. 

There’s a few people milling about when you arrive at the green room. A girl you recognize as Gareth’s girlfriend, if tabloids are to be believed, a couple more girls that look like they were plucked from the crowd to join the band post-show, a few roadies waiting to break down, and you think the girl in the corner is Robin Buckley, long time friend of both Eddie and his management team. She’s sipping on a glass of champagne probably provided by the venue and scanning the pages of a thick paperback, keeping away from the chaos. 

Steve gestures widely to the room without any additional words, catches Robin’s eye and gives her a brief salute, and heads out unceremoniously. As the door slams shut behind you, all eyes turn to you with interest, everyone curious about the new arrival. The girls quickly realize you aren’t one of the band members and lose interest quickly, Robin gives a polite wave, but returns to her book, and you’re left to stand uncomfortably in the doorway. That is, until maybe-Gareth’s-girlfriend smiles comfortingly your way and moves the throw pillows off of the other half of the loveseat she’s perched on, offering you a seat. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, tucking your feet under you as you take a seat and tugging at the hem of your skirt to make sure you remain decent, “I probably look like a fish out of water here, huh?” You laugh at your own expense.

“Nah, you just look a lot like I felt after my first show on tour, happy to be here but a little lost” she waves you off, brown eyes sparkling with kindness. She tosses a curtain of rainbow colored box braids over one shoulder and offers you a hand to shake, “I’m Kiara.” 

Shaking her hand, you offer a broad smile in return and introduce yourself. 

“Oh!” She perks up, leaning toward you excitedly, “you’re the radio host from last night, right? The guys could not shut up about you all day today! Well…some more than others.” 

Your cheeks color at her suggestion that Eddie was the one doing most of the talking, and you rub awkwardly at the back of your neck. “That’s me,” you chuckle, “so Eddie’s uh, mentioned me?” 

“No! Not like that!” Her burst of a laugh is downright musical, and she’s physically waving off the comment with a manicured hand in the air. One hand lands on your arm and squeezes comfortingly. “Well, yeah. He’s Eddie. Of course he did, but I meant all the guys! Jeff said it was one of the best radio spots they’ve ever done. Gareth was practically glowing when he mentioned that you featured his solo. They were all impressed.” 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you let out your own laugh, “well, I guess that’s good to know. They were a pleasure to have on the show, really genuine.” 

The cushions behind you dip with the sudden weight of Robin Buckley’s crossed arms, leaning in conspiratorially. “But….one more of a pleasure than the rest, right?” One brow raised, even she can’t take herself seriously, snorting with laughter at the color draining from your face. “Ah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya, kid.” She tousles your hair affectionately, “it’s been a while since Munson’s been this smitten. I’m pleased to meet the girl behind the voice.” 

Robin and Kiara talk around you, but those words dance around in your head. 

Smitten?

No. That’s impossible. 

He met you yesterday. Well, okay, technically you’d met once before. That show at the Hideout in his hometown was years ago, though. There’s no way he remembers you, no matter how much you may have flirted back and forth. 

Then again, he didn’t have to invite you back, or specifically call the station to request your presence. 

The door slamming open, rattling off the wall with its force pulls you from your thoughts. At the open doorway, flanked by his friends and band members, Eddie Munson lets out a hearty, “That’s how you put on a fuckin’ show!” 

Hoots and hollers fill the room around you as the band filters in, adrenaline pouring off of them, filling the space quickly and wasting no time in pouring themselves drinks and passing around an overstuffed blunt. Gareth fills the space on the loveseat between you and Kiara, making you stand in response to make more room for him. Your conversation was all but over, anyway, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie across the room, who made a detour for the mini bar before making his way to you. You decide to meet him there, instead. 

He’s bent at the waist, leaning with one arm on the door of the fridge, peering into it as if to look for some hidden prize. He closes the door as you approach, leaving room for you to slip between him and the minifridge and perch atop it. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he holds back the fond smile, forcing a more nonchalant look onto his face. 

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a good drink around here?” You ask, reaching out to toy with the tattered collar of his Hellfire shirt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, leaning in close. You anticipate a kiss, leaning up and into him, only for him to change his course and continue on past you, reaching high onto the shelf above your head to pull down a bottle of bourbon. Uncapping it, he takes a swig for himself, then, grin turning wicked, notches the mouth of the bottle under your chin to tilt your pout up toward him. “I can think of a few things.” 

His eyes follow the drag of your tongue across your lower lip, breath steady but shallow, and you take the moment of distraction to pluck the bottle from his hands and take a swig of your own, your smirk self-satisfied and cocky as the amber liquor burns your throat. 

As he passes, the Freak mumbles to “get a fuckin’ room.”

Nearby, Jeff also groans out, “or at least let us get to the beer, man.” 

Eddie’s shoulders slump, eyes rolling in an annoyed gesture, but the predatory smile never falters. He raises an eyebrow, staring you down, “good idea boys.” He steps back, holding a hand out to help you up, and as he ushers you out of the room with an arm wrapped heavy around your shoulder, he adds, “think I may do just that.” 

Your ears burn at the attention, but you hide your smile in the soft cotton covering his chest and follow blindly down the hall. He peeks into a couple doors, finding them occupied or locked or otherwise insufficient. You're squirming in his hold by the time he opens another door at the end of the hall to uncover a supply closet, he hasn’t even touched you and yet you’re on the verge of melting into a puddle of anticipation and longing. It would be pathetic if you didn’t know for a fact he was in the exact same boat, pent up with adrenaline from a good show.

He doesn’t suggest it outright, but he peers down at you with a questioning brow, lets the door swing open and make the suggestion for him. 

With a sly smile and no second thought, you press the bourbon back into his hand and lead the way into the closet, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. He joins you quickly with a hint of pride shining in his eye. One final pull from the bottle and he slams it onto one of the shelves, freeing his hands to crowd you up against the door, your cheek pressed into the cool metal, and push your skirt up and over your hips. Impatient fingers swipe through your folds and you both groan. You, at the contact, the tease of sweet relief after wanting for so long. He, at the realization that you haven’t had panties on this entire time. 

“Fuck, baby,” he huffs, retreating to make quick work of his belt and jeans, shoving them down just enough. You whine at the loss, drawing a dark chuckle from the man behind you. He fists his cock, lining up with your entrance, pausing just before giving you what you want. “Thought I would’a needed to warm you up at least a little,” his hips snap forward, driving into you with one swift motion and pulling a desperate moan from the back of your throat. “Should’ve known you’d be ready for me, the way you were practically fuckin’ me with your eyes all night.” He grips your hip with one hand, the other propped on the door beside your head, and starts to build a rhythm. Steady but quick, wasting no time. 

“Can– fuck, Eddie–” you interrupt yourself when he hits particularly deep, and a peek over your shoulder at the shit eating grin on his face confirms that it was definitely on purpose. You groan, letting your forehead fall against the door again, “can you blame me? Y’looked so damn good out there, you were–” Another pointed piston of his hips cuts off your compliment with a guttural moan, and you concede, deciding now is not the time for talking. 

“That’s it, Sweetheart,” he urges, mouthing at the nape of your neck, the hand on your hip sneaking lower to rub sloppily at your clit. He takes in your shaky breath, the hitch in it at his touch, and urges you closer to release. It’s over almost as quickly as it started, not your usual gradual build, but rather a startling wave washing over you with a cry. Eddie grunts his approval into your hair, following quickly and spilling inside you. 

You stay that way for a moment, both of you breathing slowly and getting your bearings, until a drunk little giggle escapes your throat, sandwiched between your lips and your forearm where you rest your head. 

Running a hand down your spine gently, Eddie hisses as he pulls out, then swats playfully at your ass. “What’s so funny?” If he was actually bothered by your laughter, he didn’t show it. 

“Dunno,” you giggle, moving as if through molasses as you stand to right yourself, pulling the skirt back down and smoothing wrinkles from your top, “just really glad I agreed to come tonight.” You decided to bite back the tease, to not call attention to the fact that last night he practically promised you the night of your life, only to end up with a quickie in the broom closet. Not that you’re complaining, the man knows what he’s doing, but…

As if he can read your thoughts, he reaches out for you, drawing you into him with a firm hand on the small of your back. He swallows your protest, licking into your mouth with a smug satisfaction to make sure you know he isn’t going anywhere. 

“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” He asks, dimples practically twinkling with the mischief they hold. 

“Well, I…yeah?” You can’t come up with the words, so you just nod dumbly. “Baby,” he noses at your temple, kissing a tight smile into your hairline before dropping his tone to murmur directly into your ear. “That was just blowing off some steam after the show.” Another kiss, this time to the spot just below your ear that he discovered last night, nipping at the sensitive skin lightly and savoring the gasp it elicits from you. “I plan on taking my time with you tonight, you better not be calling it a night on me already.”

[starrspice]

I must know: Is Monty in the Cherub au and if yes is he also a cherub?

With how most people characterize him, him being a Cherub would be the funniest thing. However, I know some people make soft Monty and i feel like they would work wonderfully for this au.

Thoughts?

Yes he is!!! All the animatronics are cherubs In this AU

Let me list off the cherubs real quick

Eclipse is the head cherub, in charge of familial love

Freddy is parental Love

Sun is romantic love

Moon is heartbreak

Chica is passion (for people, interests, and hobbies)

Roxy is Obsession

Monty is Devotion (usually for work but can often work alongside chica as well)

DJ Music Man is the cherub of Self Love (and the mini music men are for little acts of self love)

The S.T.A.F.F. bots fall under all the other niche categories of love

And Bonnie... well we don't talk about Bonnie

As for his personality in thid AU he's kinda gruff, a big cool tough guy (who's an absolute marshmallow inside) and just genuinely enjoys his job and some good company

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Eighteen: Tequila under the stars

Today, you all met in the amphitheater. Chris and Chef were dressed in pirate costumes and Duncan’s first reaction was to immediately turn around and say the following. “Alrighty princess, we’ve had our fun now let’s pack our bags and head on home.” but you quickly pulled him down on a seat next to DJ.

“Have we got an adventure in store for thee.” Chris smiled in a corny pirate accent and you were this close to turning around with Duncan. “What’s under the sheet?” Geoff asked the very, very strange man.

“All in good time, laddie.” Chris said in a very cheerful tone. “On a scale from one to ten how mad would you be if I punched him?” Duncan whispered.

“Depends how hard.” You whispered, shrugging. “Good enough for me.” Duncan smirked and was about to stand before Chris spoke again.

“Who here has a hankering for a good ole treasure hunt? Now this one has got a twist, mateys. For what you're looking for isn’t treasure and isn’t hidden.” you slapped yourself in the face at the pure stupidity of the words leaving the man’s face. 

“If there’s no treasure, what’s with the eyepatch and the plastic bird?” Duncan asked the clearly insane man.

 “Arr shiver me timbers, Good question me boy. You're looking for keys to a treasure chest.” Chris said as he held up shiny keys and Chef unveiled even shinier chests. 

You see, the interesting thing about kleptomania is that a lot of the time it’s dormant since the world is such a gray place. 

But the second, the second you see a shiny thing your mind is SCREAMING at you ‘mine, mine, all mine’. You were like a prettier gollum. Duncan looked next to him and saw that gleam in your eye. The hunger that drove you crazy that he found so attractive holy SHI-

You all lined up on the amphitheater stage as Chris explained the challenge.  Your hidden keys would be on the cards he gave you. Duncan had a ring of fire, and you had a picture of an extremely tall tree. This was going to be easy. 

Chris yelled at you to disperse and Duncan dragged you to his place first. A large ring of fire had a key dangling in the middle. 

“Call it out?” He asked and you smiled as he started ten feet away from the ring to be exact. You started clapping your hands “Okay, five, six, seven, eight, now run, jump, tuck.” In that order Duncan flipped through the ring with ease. 

He landed on his back for some reason though, he was panting. 

You walked up with a crooked smile playing on your lips as you helped him up. “What would Coach Oscar say now?” You asked lightly, hitting him with your hips as you began your trek to the woods.

Chris monologues from nearby. “It looks like this couple's past will be more than enough to get them through this challenge.”

The camera came back on you both. “Well I think he’d probably say something like this-” Duncan lightly grabbed your hair and placed it in his lips imitating a mustache. He spoke in a gruff voice. 

“Jesus, Tarun. Since when did I say you could suck that much, twenty laps, and carry that L/N girl as an extra punishment.” Before you could stop Duncan, he grabbed you and pulled you into the air carrying you bridal style.

He smiled once you glared at him. You crossed your arms as he began running. “You know I don’t think this is a punishment.” Duncan laughed his evil laugh and you punched his shoulder and that only made him laugh harder.

You arrived at the tree sooner rather than later. It was a really large tree. “You know, as someone not typically afraid of heights, this makes me afraid of heights.” You waved your hand at the tree.

“That’s fair, I’ll catch you if you fall.” Duncan offered and you rolled your eyes. The tree was so tall it’d probably take an hour just to fall all the way down.

“See you in a bit.” You smiled and he gave you a peck on the cheek before you could protest. Then you were off. You launched yourself at the tree and began jumping from branch to branch at a record pace. Chris began monologuing over your video. 

“Y/N L/N, Miss Future Tarun, acrobatic extraordinaire, has she met her match this high up?”

The answer was yes, yes you had. At a certain point anyone becomes afraid of heights. But you had a mission, and when you were afraid your body went to work for you. It flipped and twisted, and jumped almost as if it was muscle memory.

You saw it, the key was swinging back and forth in the wind, the sky’s blue had faded away and it had turned a misty black. It was getting hard to breathe. But it wasn’t nighttime. It was 12:30 in the afternoon. This tree was really, really tall. 

You reached the top and your hands snatched the key, it was really, really hard to breathe. You shoved the key into your pants pocket, but then you made the HUGE mistake of looking down. “Oh.” You whisper-laughed. You couldn’t even see the island anymore.

You looked back at the tree. Forcing air into your lungs because suddenly you seemingly had forgotten how too. This was NOT okay.  You climbed down the tree at a record time desperate to touch the ground again. 

Your body was blue from the chill of nearly being in space. Your hands had splinters all in them and you finally reached the bottom sucking in big gulps of air as Duncan wrapped his arm around you kissing your head as you tried to work through your initial panic.

It had been SO high up. There had been no one up there, it was absolutely terrifying. 

Duncan was whispering a song as your body worked through the drastic change in temperature. “Three little birds sat at my window.” he forced your fingers to intertwine with him as you felt his pulse beat. “And they told me I don’t need to worry.” He kissed your hair which now smells like pine trees and sap. 

You loved singing with Duncan, you forced your mouth open and the words came out albeit at a whisper.

“Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet.” He smiled, that was one way to bring you out of an anxiety attack, do something that you can latch onto, “Little girls double dutch on the concrete.” He kissed your cheek and pulled you up and into his arms hugging you tight. 

The camera paused and Chris spoke to the viewers. “Do they make you feel single, they make me feel single.”  

Duncan and you had gone back to the cabins to apply one of the nic patches. You sat on the steps, your key hanging on a string around your neck, as well as Duncan’s.

“Who’s your favorite singer?” You asked him and he was quiet for a moment. “Probably Elvis. I bet I can guess yours.” You smiled because he probably could. 

“Is it me?” He closed his eyes unsure if he was correct. “Ding ding ding. We have a winner” you smiled and he smirked kissed your lips, and before a make out session was about to occur Leshawna appeared, whispering about Heather messing with Trent who was Gwen’s boy.

Duncan’s face turned sour and your lips set back into a snarl. You were okay when it came to HUNDREDS if not thousands of things. Crime did not bother you, drugs and alcohol did not bother you, cheating, cheating bothered you a lot. 

—

Chris had you all meet at the campfire. You were about to sit down but this overwhelming stench emitted out of Geoff and you had to basically hide behind Duncan. Izzy appeared last and you laughed at the ginger.

“Honey you got a snake on your head.” You smiled at the looney girl. “I know! He’s friendly.” The snake's fangs went into the girl's head. “See? Kisses!” She then promptly passed out. 

You sighed pulling the snake off the unconscious girl. You kissed her cheek and put a sweater over her body. “Yar, it’ll be time to claim your treasure.” Chris announced. 

—

|Trending in X right now|

#chrishipsthem

#izzyxy/nfanart

#mothery/n

#DUNCANJUSTWANTSY/NTOBEOKAY

#grumpygfxflirtybf

—

You all went over to the chests, you were more excited than most. Duncan opened his chest revealing chips and a pack of gum. “Is this the best they can do?” He muttered to himself as you opened yours. Inside was a bottle of tequila and a neon pink blanket.

 “I know what we’re doing tonight.” Duncan smirked, pointing at the tequila and blanket. “Drunk stargazing?” You questioned.

“Oh no I was thinking we’d fuck but that’s okay too. I love getting drunk.” Duncan had absolutely no filter. You turned about fifty shades of red and punched his side.

He smiled sideways hugging you and kissed the top of your head. 

—

You stared at the camera with a wild look in your eyes. You crossed your legs and snarled. “Cheating in juvie gets you killed, it’s got the same repercussions as snitches. Be happy it’s not juvie, Trent.” You hissed.

—

That night at the campfire it went very quick. Chris threw an extra marshmallow in your mouth which was seemingly becoming a regular thing. But in the end Trent got out. He was so confused.

“I thought I was making friends with everyone here. I even told Duncan that he should shoot his shot with Y/N.” At that you had to smile. In the end you were still the one to kiss first.

But it turns out that Heather had played you all. She made Leshawns think that Trent was a two-timer and the girl jumped the gun getting everyone to vote Trent out. You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Oh we’re terrible people.” Duncan muttered to himself. You nodded numbly.

A little piece of your heart broke when you saw Gwen waved goodbye to Trent tears in her eyes. “We truly will have a special place in hell.” You muttered putting a head on his shoulder. He chuckled sadly.

You had set out the blanket on top of the roof of the cafeteria, and Duncan had followed you up there, he grabbed the bottle of tequila and quickly took a swig. You laughed nervously. “Is there a special occasion?” You asked. He smiled. “Just needed some liquid courage.” His lips were attached to yours in an instant, and you both rolled around on the blanket laughing in between kisses.

“The next few days are gonna be really hard.” You whispered your head on his chest as you looked at the stars. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his father, two days after that was your moms.

 “Darling, look at me-” He tilted your chin to stare at him. “I could be having the worst day of my life, but if I see you, suddenly everything is better, so I’m not worried.” He kissed your lips as you took another swig of alcohol.

“Come on, bunny, haven’t you realized I am the happiest I have ever been when you're with me.” you laughed at that, “You do realize we’re never apart, the longest we’ve ever been without seeing each other is three days.” You pointed out. “Which is why I’m a joy to be around.” He said cheekily and you smiled leaning over his body to kiss him again.

“I am jealous of the people who get to see you every day, baby you know that?” he whispered in between your kisses. You smiled without replying. 

—

“Do you remember the first time when we got in trouble with my dad? The way he talked?” Duncan questioned playing with your hair. You nodded against his chest staring at the stars once more, loving how shiny they were.

Duncan’s father screamed and screamed at you, for hours on end, you and Duncan had been returned to the Tarun household by two police officers that he worked with. Duncan had, of course, been loud, and wild against his father’s control, but you had stayed silent the entire time.

Milo bent on his knees to get in your face, “Do not pretend that you are some, meek, pathetic little girl, when I can see your vicious mind working behind those eyes of yours. Speak out for once in your life, Y/N.” He hissed.

“Your dad may have been the legit devil, but he saw people for what they were.” You whispered. After a few chugs of tequila Duncan always got lost in his memories, and the way he spoke usually got you lost as well. “How about right after your mom died, the way you didn’t really understand what was happening?”

You were four and were staring at the casket in front of you. Duncan’s father had bent down twenty minutes ago and said that your mom was gone, forever, were his words. But you were only four, how were you supposed to know how long forever is? Suddenly your best friend who had black hair cartwheeled over to you. 

“How long is forever?” You asked him. He was five, he knew a lot. “Well sometimes it’s just one second.” He sat on his butt next to you, his legs dangling into the pit where the casket sat.

“Your mama might be gone till we are, or she might be fine in a second. We don’t know until it happens. But, you and I? We’ll be best friends till we’re gone. I know it.” He hugged your shoulders and you smiled.

Duncan laughed, “You know, I stole that line out of an Alice and Wonderland play.” You giggled, you already knew. “Duncan, sweetheart I know.” You smiled and touched his face. Duncan stared at you and spoke again. “I’m obsessed with your face, your mind, your heart, your body.” He whispered and your lips sought him again.

“You have me, until every last star in the galaxy has burned out. I will love you Y/N.” He whispered and you smiled. This boy was gonna make you wreck your reputation in ways you never even thought imaginable.

—-

Bonus: TDI Groupchat from your POV

Groupchat: Island Idiots 

Me: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Tiger 💚: Have everyone stand.

DJ 🐰: Bring three more chairs!

Gwenny ♥: The most important ones can sit down.

Izzy 🧡: Kill three.

Tiger 💚: CAN I CHANGE MY ANSWER??

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Izzy 🧡: What are they doing?

Bridge 🌊💙: Morse code.

Me: YOU TAKE THAT BACK DUNCAN.

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Tiger 💚: We need to distract these guys- i wanna go back to the cabin

Me: Leave it to me

Me: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Izzy 🧡: YEP I AGREE

 She-devil 👺: wtf no they aren’t?? Its a horse??

Lindsay ☺️♥️: wait whats a centaur?

boy blondie 🏄‍♀️: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Me: I CAN'T DO IT!

Tiger 💚: I CAN'T EITHER!

Me: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

DJ 🐰: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Me:

Me: I appreciate it,

Me: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Gwenny ♥: Y/N, heather is opening her phone-

Me: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Lindsay ☺️♥️: Y/N please stop she’s opening the gc 

Me: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Me: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Me: NOT FUCKING HEATHER

----

tags: @lostsomewhereinthegarden

[prpfz]

hello!!

21+ looking for discord rpers! itching for some casual but long term ocxoc rp. i use irl fcs and love to chat ooc (casual talking, pinterest boards, brainstorming, headcanons, etc)!! i have a bunch of ocs to choose from, but these 3 are at the front of my brain:

character #1 is a loud, brash, flirtatious bassist and automechanic. he's handsome and confident and always down for a good time, but he struggles with commitment and has a multitude of issues. character #2 is a fast-talking and emotionally unstable radio dj. he's obsessed with the 1980s and he loves to party. when he gets attached, he gets attached. canonically a serial killer, but im flexible! character #3 is an easygoing romantic cowboy! the most normal of these three. loyal and protective, but not gruff or abrasive. loves animals and sunshine.

if any of these guys catch your eye, interact and i'll reach out so we can talk it over! 🐯

give a like and anon will get back to you