#oh I love the denim wings

[venompinks]

NAYEON ཐིཋྀ NA C VERSION SCAN

[cosmopretty]

Drunk In Love

Paige Bueckers x Fem smut

Synopsis: You’ve known Paige since you started going to UConn, her taking you under her wing. She’s always had a thing for you, and she finnally built up the courage to do what she’s always wanted to do.

Chilling on Azzi’s bed, the both of you laying down watching some TV show together relaxing. Azzi looks at you and nudges you with her arm “So any new boys or girls?” she not so suspiciously asks you, due to Paige’s request. Poor Azzi had to listen to Paige talk about you all day long, and she was sick of it so she put together a plan to get you both together.

“No Azzi you would be the first person I would tell if someone asked me out” You tell her looking away from the screen to look back at her. You squint your eyes at her “Wait what do you know?” you ask her smiling shaking her shoulders. Azzi gets up “Nothing I know nothing but the team is going out tonight and you’re coming” she states while looking through her closet to find an outfit to wear.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go out tonight it’s just harder for you to pretend you didn’t fall for your friend, Paige when you were under the influence. Azzi snaps you out of your thoughts “Which pants? These or those? With this top” she asks holding up two pairs of jeans and a crop top. You get up and point at the dark blue wash jeans “Those will look cute now Ima go to my dorm and get ready. See you later Az” you wave to the girl while grabbing your stuff and walking out the door. While you leave you hear her yell behind you “WERE MEETING AT PAIGES AT TEN”

After you’re done getting ready, in a short black denim jean skirt with a tight long tube top that showed off your belly button piercing. Not wanting to put on a lot of makeup only having mascara and gloss on. Sliding on a pair of black kitten heels you walk out of your dorm down the hall just too see all the girls down the hall. You jog up to them all “Sorry I’m late” you say sheepishly to everyone not to discreetly looking around for Paige.

Azzi looks you up and down “You look gorgeous boo” she says causing Paige to turn around and look at you. She stops and stares at you before Azzi elbows her raising her brows at the girl before rolling her eyes and walking away. Paige looks down at you “You really do look beautiful you always do” she tells you grabbing your waist and leading you out the door with everyone else.

Today Paige promised herself she would actually tell you how she felt about you and show you. The both of you hop in the back of Ice’s car, you stuck in the middle of Paige and Nika. The blondes hand stays on your thigh the whole drive to the bar, her thumb moving back and forth on your inner thigh slightly.

Once you get to the bar, Paige opens the door for you again wrapping her arm around you. The both of you were always touchy with one another so you paid no mind to what she was doing to you, besides the butterflies that erupted in your stomach from the way she was holding you. Walking inside the bar you all find a table before going up to the bar with Nika and Azzi. Paige sits down with KK and Ice talking to Ice’s livestream.

The three of you at the bar order a round of shots, you holding it up and click them together “Cheers” you all at once before downing the shots. You shake your head at the sting of the liquor in your throat before Nika grabs you pulling you to the dance floor. The both of you play around the music dancing with one another.

Paige watches you both jealous that she wasn’t the one with her hands on your hips, your body on hers. She sips her drink slowly starting to feel the effects of alcohol in her veins. Azzi follows Paige’s eye line to see you dancing with Nika, Azzi slaps Paige’s shoulder “Jesus girl go get her before someone else does stop being a pussy Paige” Azzi tells her rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a pussy” Paige’s defends herself before finishing her drink and wiping her mouth. Azzi smirks “Oh yeah go prove it” she says knowing Paige’s competitive nature wouldn’t let her back down.

The blonde gets up walking to the dance floor before grabbing your arm pulling you into her chest. You look up at her through your lashes “Hi Paige” you smile confused on what she wanted. She licks her lip brushing your hair from your face “Hi” she whispers before grabbing your handing interlocking your fingers with hers leading you out of the bar confused.

You follow her lead intrigued on what she wanted right now. She looks at you before opening the door to Azzi’s car for you “Where are we going?” you ask Paige not wanting to get in just yet. She freezes and turns around “Back to my dorm we have to talk” she states helping you in the car before closing the door and getting into the drivers seat. She drives you both back to the dorm not saying a word to you only having her hand on your thigh.

Once getting inside the dorm you sit on her bed confused “Paige what’s got you so stressed?” you ask her watching as she paces back and forth in front of you. She stops at your words and walks in between your legs looking down at you. She bites her lip and before you can utter another work she kisses you her big hands gabbing both your cheeks. You gasp into the kiss giving her an invitation to slide her tongue with yours. She pushed you down on the bed, climbing on top of you not breaking the kiss in between you both.

Her lungs beg for air as she pulls away from your lips an embarrassing string of spit between you both. You look up at her breathing heavily “What was that for?” you ask her scared of what her next words may be. Paige looks up from your lips into your eyes her hand holding your cheek, rubbing your thumb “I like you baby isn’t that obvious?” she asks cocky. Your face gets hot as your blush “Really?” you ask quietly looking up at her.

Nodding her head Paige looks at your lips once more an idea coming to her head “Let me prove it to you” she states before kissing you once more her hands finding there way under your shirt rubbing your waist. Paige’s eyes twinkled and she pushed you back into the bed gently.

She sat on the bed and waited until you were comfortable before pulling your pants and panties off leaving bare before her.

“so pretty, mama, so pretty” she mumbled against your collarbone, slowly pulling down the straps of your shirt.

Her lips press to your jawline softly, leaving opened mouth kisses down your neck. She was going so slow to savior every part of this with you.

You whine when she starts sucking on the sweet spot on your neck. She pulls away and kisses the purple mark she left on you “I know baby I know”

She parted your legs running her finger between your folds. You whined again at the contact, no doubt you were dripping already. You watched her carefully leaning on your elbows watching as Paige moves back on the bed laying on her stomach her face right above your core. She blows on your clit causing your hips to jolt up “Come on P stop teasing please please-“

She silenced you with a hard brush against your clit and you moan so loud you swore the people outside could hear.

Paige swore under her breath at the feeling of your warm folds enveloping her fingertips, she never imagined how good this could possibly feel. She drew slow circles around your clit, eyes trained on your face to see your reactions.

Your core tightens and you grab Paige’s head making her look up at you “Please need more please” you beg her out of breath. She nods and moves her big hands to spread your thighs wider and she licks a stripe up your folds before one of her hands move down her two finger prodding at your hole. She looks up at you her big blue eyes staring into you, you nod at her and she slides her two fingers into you slowly.

You moan at the stretch inside of you Paige moves down and presses a soft kiss onto the puffy bud before wrapping her lips around your clit sucking slowly as her fingers move in and out of you. Your free hand moves up to hold onto the bed frame as your stomach tightens.

You moan as Paige shoves her fingers deeper inside you curling them slightly hitting your g spot. She bites your clit softly before pulling away and leaning up climbing on top of you. She grips your chin and pulling you into a kiss as her fingers move in and out of you speeding up.

Paige feels you squeezing around her fingers as she pulls away from your mouth. She kisses down your neck moving her mouth to your chest. Her mouth wraps around nipple sucking slightly while her other hand toys with the other one.

You moan breathlessly “gonna- fuck P” you make out not trusting your words any more. Paige pulls away from your chest and moves her hand back down to your clit.

"I know, honey. give it to me." she says, pinching your clit and quickening the speed of her hips. You groan her name, your clit becoming more sensitive the closer and closer you get to your high.

When your high comes you moan her name your legs twitching as Paige moves her fingers slower fucking you through your high.

“There you go baby good girl” she coos in your ear slowly pulling her fingers out of you. Your out of breath looking up at her as she smiles at you. Paige gets up going into the bathroom after kissing you and grabbing a wet cloth before coming back.

She cleans you up quietly before helping you sit up on her bed, she pulls one of her shirts onto your body before laying you back down moving next to you.

Your head rests on her chest and you focus on her heartbeat as her hand runs up and down your back. Paige kisses your head “That was amazing” she whispers as you move around so your chin lays on her chest so you can look at her.

“Yeah no one’s ever made me feel like that before Paige” you admit to her moving your hand to cup her cheek your thumb rubbing across her features. She looks into your eyes and smiles at you “Your mine now ma I’m not letting you go ever” she states to you.

You tilt your head at her “Oh I’m yours now?” you ask her moving up and planting a kiss on her cheek. She nods “Oh yeah all mine and I’m yours baby” she tells you pulling you down onto her lips giving you a passionate kiss showing all her love to you.

[munson-blurbs]

Argyle x Fem!Reader smut

Summary: Your plans tonight only involve ordering a pizza, but a conversation with the pizza boy has you craving something very different.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), phone sex, masturbation (m! and f!), voice kink, Argyle is a simp as per usual

WC: 1.7k

A/N: This was inspired by me and @word-wytch ordering pizza at Steel City Con where the pizza boy did not want to get off of the phone. Nothing spicy happened, but it made us think...what if it had?

Also, big shout out to @munsonmuses for helping me with the ending. Love you, Addie!

--

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking. Can I interest you in a delicious pie? Perhaps the Argyle Special?”

You stare at the shiny brochure in your lap, breath catching in your throat when you hear his voice. You were expecting someone brusque, rushing you off of the line so they can collect the next order, but the man speaking to you might as well be laying on a white sand beach. 

“Um, h-hi,” you wince at the way you stammer, tempted to hang up and save yourself further embarrassment, but you keep the receiver pressed to your ear. Lenora Hills is a fresh start, a place where no one knows you, and you’re determined to spread your wings and become more than the ‘shy, awkward girl.’ So, even though you were going to order a small cheese pie, you push yourself to ask, “what’s the Argyle Special?”

Soft laughter trills from the speaker; it’s warm and welcoming without a hint of malice. “Oh, the Argyle Special? She’s kinda my baby.” Good lord, the way he says baby has your thighs clenching involuntarily. You hear him shuffling a bit, adjusting positions to get more comfortable. “So, we start out with your classic thin crust.” Argyle lowers his voice and adds, “You might think you can toss it in the air a coupla times and call it a day, but you’d be wrong. You gotta knead it, get all the kinks out, right?”

“Mhm.” Your free hand begins to dip below the waistband of your denim shorts before you pull back. What are you doing? Touching yourself to a stranger explaining how to make pizza? “I, uh, I gotta—”

“Next comes the sauce,” he continues, not noticing your interjection. “Now, less is definitely more here, y’know what I’m saying? A little goes a long way.”

You nod, too caught up in the moment to remember that he can’t see you. “A-And then what?”

“Cheese. Enough to achieve that perfect amount of gooey goodness, but not so much that it weighs down the slice.” Another peal of laughter, just as kind as the one earlier. “Some people ask for extra cheese, but in my humble opinion, it takes away from the rest of the toppings, y’know?”

There’s a quiet swishing sound coming from his end, and it draws your attention. “What’re you doing that’s making that noise?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yo-yo.” Your question has clearly caught him off-guard; instead of further explaining his baby, he asks, “what’re you doing?”

Immediately, your thoughts flit to the way your fingers yearn to be inside you, the way your clit aches to be rubbed each time he talks. But he can’t know that. “N-Nothing. Um, yeah, nothing.”

You can practically hear his brows raise in disbelief. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Argyle teases gently. “In fact, it sounds like you’re doing something important.” He pauses for a second. “Lemme guess: top secret CIA mission?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

You giggle despite the embarrassment washing over you. “Not quite.”

There’s silence; his audible breathing is the only way you know he’s still on the line. “You got a really cute laugh.” 

Is he flirting? This is flirting; it has to be. But he doesn’t even know what you look like. 

You don’t know what he looks like, either, and you were about to masturbate to him, you remind yourself wryly. Anything’s possible. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Sweet but also sexy. A rare combo, if you ask me.” 

You summon all of your courage; the ball is in your court. “I, um, I like your voice.” Heat pools in your cheeks as you say the words. 

“My voice? Shit, I always thought it was kinda goofy. My friend Jonathan says I sound like Cheech and Chong. Well, not, like, both of them, but just…one.” A rustling noise; he’s shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not good with getting compliments and stuff.”

“S’okay. Me either.” You laugh again, finding the ability to be honest refreshing. “Keep telling me about your special. Your baby,” you amend. 

He exhales a cloud of lust. “Fuck, say ‘baby’ again.” Ah, so it had the same effect on him that it did on you. 

This time, you don’t chastise yourself for the way your fingertips graze your cotton panties. You and Argyle are clearly on the same page. Why fight it? “Tell me more about the Argyle Special, baby.”

“I gotta know first if you’re doing what I’m about to do,” he says breathily. 

“I am,” you affirm, finding your clit easily and applying the lightest pressure. 

A sharp inhale, then, just above a whisper, “Good. So, so good.” He unzips his fly and groans as his hand wraps around his cock. “I’m just gonna talk, and you keep touching yourself for me, okay?”

“Mhm. Just…keep going.”

“Shit, yeah, I got you.” Another moan as he strokes himself, his sentences getting choppier. “The toppings…I like to combine sweet and—mmf—savory.”

You tug your panties aside, slipping your middle finger into your waiting pussy. “Keep going,” you urge, desperate for his silky voice. 

“Some diced g-green pepper…sliced jalapeños…and…” Argyle’s focus is split between listing ingredients and jerking off, and one is evidently winning. 

“And what, baby?” There’s a slight edge to your tone—dare you say, a sultriness—as your ring finger joins your middle, fucking yourself with both of them. 

You’re not the only one who picks up on your newfound confidence. “And pineapple,” he manages. “Comes from a can…fuck, I can hear how wet you are.”

You whimper, forcing air into your lungs. Breathing has never been a manual task until right now. “It’s because of you.” Your fingers move faster; you curl them slightly to maximize your pleasure. “You and your voice.”

“I’d talk all goddamn day for you.” His voice is thick with desire. “I’d do anything you asked me to—oh, fuck,” he grunts. “What would you want me to do if I was with you right now?”

What wouldn’t you want him to do is an easier question, but you try to quickly formulate a response. “I-I’d want you to touch me.”

“More specific, honey,” he tuts. “Where do you want me touching you?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. You think about where your own hand would be if you weren’t holding the phone. “My clit,” you say urgently, “or my…my tits.”

“Mmm, I could put my mouth on one and my fingers on the—”

“No,” you insist, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fingers only. Need to keep your mouth free so you can talk.”

A chuckle, then, “fair enough. Guess I’ll rub that pretty little clit of yours, huh? Make sure you’re ready f’me.” There’s a soft puh as he spits on his cock to lubricate it. “Wish I was inside of you. Bet you’re so wet…and warm…and—ohh, yeah— so tight…”

“I’m so close,” you whine, absolutely desperate for this orgasm. You tuck the phone between your ear and your shoulder, bring your newly-freed middle finger to your clitoris, now swollen with need. “Please, Argyle, tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“Oh, baby,” he rasps, the schlick of his fist stroking his erection becomes louder, faster. “I want you screaming my name. That sweet little pussy st-stuffed with my cock. And I’ll go deeper…and deeper…and deeper…until you can’t—fucking—take it!” He growls out the last four words. 

It’s enough to drive you to the edge. You don’t tell him you’re cumming, but he knows just from the choked moans that you’re there. Your fingers are shiny with the proof of your arousal as you finish all over them, wishing they belonged to Argyle. Wishing you belonged to Argyle. 

“I’m cumming, fucking shit, h-oh, my God.” He’s in another galaxy now, stars swirling around him as his release spurts from his aching tip and coats his hand in his sticky seed. “Holy fuckin’…whoa.” There’s a brief pause. “Gimme one sec, okay?”

Argyle’s racing across the kitchen, phone dangling from the cord, before you can even respond. “Sorry,” he says, panting and laughing when he returns to the receiver, “had to grab some paper towels and clean myself up. Can’t go walking around with jizz on my hands.” 

“Not a good look,” you agree, the warmth from your giggle melting any residual awkwardness. “You definitely need to wash them, like, a hundred times before you make another pizza.”

“Nah, man; I’m actually clocking out now. You were gonna be my last customer, but, uh…” he trails off, and it occurs to you that you never finished placing your order. “We got a little distracted.”

Distracted is putting it mildly, but you’re in no headspace for a semantics debate. “I guess I’ll have to call back the next time you’re working and try again.”

“Y-Yeah, for sure!” Eagerness dominates his tone, and he tries to rein it in. “Or, um, maybe you can come by in person? I’d like to see the girl who made me cum harder than I have since…ever,” he adds cheekily. 

“Mhm. I can do that.�� Can you? Yes, you tell yourself, I can. I’m turning over a new leaf, and that apparently involves having phone sex with the pizza guy and then meeting him for the first time at his job. 

You swear you hear a quiet yet triumphant, “yes!” before he says, “You sure? Because I’d totally get it if you wanted to keep this a one-time thing.” His hesitation indicates that he’s no stranger to unrequited pining, like he’s bracing himself for a rejection. “But I gotta be honest with you; I really wanna see you.”

“I wanna see you, too.” You wrap the springy cord around your forefinger. If his voice could make you feel this way, imagine what he could do with his fingers, his tongue, his…

“I work from noon until six tomorrow, if you wanna stop in?” Argyle cuts into your train of thought. “Or if that’s too soon, then we can just—”

“Argyle?”

“Yeah?”

You smile widely even though there’s no way for him to know that. “See you at six tomorrow.”

--

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: and so it continues.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When you find Kara, she’s at the front of the line. You wait impatiently on the other side of the rope as she gabs up a storm with the D-lister on the other side of the table. Restless, throat sour with bile, you pace in a small line, flicking your thumb as you resist the urge to tell her to hurry up. 

You need to get out of there. You can barely think. You can’t even stay still as heat scalds and speckles over your scalp and down your body. 

You turn on your heel and your feet tangle as you stop short. Andy stands just on the other side of the line, staring at you. Oh shit. 

You rush over to Kara and snap her tank top strap, “hey, there’s other people waiting.” 

“One second!” She squeals carelessly over her shoulder, quickly returning to fawning over the washed-up sci-fi actor. 

You sigh and cross your arms, rocking back and forth, “Kara, I really don’t feel good.” 

She huffs and chirps crisply, excusing herself from the table. Several others send her a dirty look for spending so much time chattering as they wait eagerly in the wings. She steps around the post to the other side of the rope. 

“Let me guess, too much sugar?” She scoffs. 

“Something like that,” you grumble. “Look, it’s like five. We’ve been here for a couple hours. I’m chill getting out of here.” 

“Already?” She lifts a brow, “we haven’t even got you a plushie.” 

“I should save my money,” you keep your arms folded around you. 

She eyes you up and down, “are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, it’s like you said, too much sugar. I should’ve eaten breakfast. Or lunch.” 

She gives you a skeptical squint and shrugs, “alright, whatever. We can go hang at mine.” 

“Great, sorry,” you mope, “I just... I’m tired.” 

“It’s fine,” she assures you, “I get it. This place can be a bit much and the BO is starting to get to me.” She struts ahead of you and you catch up to her. She marvels at the signed photo in her hand, “at least I got something cool.” 

“Yeah, that’s awesome. You gonna hang it up?” You ask, trying to distract yourself. 

“Mm, maybe.” 

You glance over your shoulder. Andy’s closer, looming, hands in his pocket, eyes set on you. What is he doing? You grab her arm and hurry her towards the exit. 

“Woah, what’s up?” She trips in her wedged sandals. 

“I just need some fresh air. Like you said, it stinks in here.” 

As you finally get through the front doors, your phone is shaking incessantly. The buzz can be heard through the denim. You ignore it as you cross the lot. 

“Is that him calling?” She asks, “is that what this is about? I mean, I’d be pissed too but he shouldn’t get to ruin your day.” 

“No, it’s not,” you lie, “I just... crowds get to me after a while. It’s been a long day, traveling and all that... I’m tired.” 

“Mm, sure, well, let’s not let that coward shit on it all,” she snips. “It’ll be like high school. Girls’ night! Popcorn and nail painting and your favourite hollywood hunk.” 

“You mean your favourite,” you toss back. 

She giggles, “come on, you know you think he’s cute too.” 

You roll your eyes and stick close to her. You follow her out to the street and quickly turn away. You send one last look over your shoulder. You don’t think he’d follow you this far. You grab onto Kara’s arm and set your sights ahead of you. 

“Sleepover!” You chime, doing your best to hide your anxiety. 

🎮

You’re sad to leave Kara. She made a crummy day brighter with a fun night. Still, you’re relieved to go back home. Where you can be alone, where you can forget. 

You catch an early Greyhound and hug your bag to you as you doze, waking with each lurch of the axle. Back in town, you disembark and sigh. You still have a shift tonight. It’s a good excuse to avoid that little needling at the back of your mind. 

You still can’t believe it. How many years had you been warned against meeting people on the internet? For how much of your life has that faceless avatar online been the boogeyman to fear? And yet, he sent you pictures, you spent hours gaming together, and you trusted him. Yes, you’re that stupid. You really trusted Jacob—Andy. 

You drop your stuff at home and shower as your grandmother grumbles into a cup of tea. As you emerge, her eternal scowl curls her lips. You go to the kitchen to wash her used dishes and come back out, hoping the chore appeases her. She doesn’t say a word as she sorts through her knitting needles. 

Right. As grim as the house can be, you find comfort in that nothing has changed, even if you feel like your world has. You don’t even want to look at your Switch. That one possession you treasured above all. It’s the most expensive thing you own. You saved for months to get one, it connected you to outside, it helped you escape, and now it’s just another reminder. 

You grab your purse and head off for work. You message Kara to check in. Uh oh, she says Calvin is in town. Not this again. 

You go to hit reply on her message and another notification pops up. You tap it before you can stop yourself. It’s him. Andy. He’s been texting but you haven’t answered, you haven’t even looked to block him. You don’t know why you haven’t just hit that magic button but you just avoided everything about him. 

‘Please. I’m sorry. Can we please talk?’ 

It’s no different than the litany of texts before hand; ‘we can mine and talk this out’; ‘I wanted to tell you the truth for so long, I just thought you had the right to hear it face-to-face'; ‘hope you got home safe. Please text when you have a moment’; one after another, changing from one tone to the others; desperate, apologetic, concerned... 

Before you can dismiss the conversation, he messages again. 

‘You’re reading my messages. I see the checkmark. Please, just give me a chance to explain.’ 

You sniff and shake your head. You mute your phone and bury it at the bottom of your purse. You don’t want to talk to him but you just can’t bring yourself to get rid of him entirely. For a year he was your friend. Maybe just a gaming buddy but a constant that you came to count on.  

You would login and just shoot the shit; chat about your day; just let it all out and not think as you dug up diamonds or raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That’s all gone now and it hurts just as much as the rest of his lies. It isn’t just that he isn’t Jacob, it’s that you told him things you didn’t even tell Kara. He had been your safe harbour because he was far away, because anything you said could never come back to you. 

Your eyes sting and your cheeks pinch. Stupid, again. You shouldn’t be this emotional about this. Forget about it. You got work.  

Work? Scooping ice cream? God, how pathetic you must have sounded to him. He’s a lawyer or something? At least that what he claimed when he’d still been Jacob. You knew at first glance the type of man he is; established, professional, and older. So much older. 

Yeah, your problems must have seemed so minuscule and immature. Oh, you flunked a pop quiz? Not like you have to pay a mortgage.  

Urgh. You shake off the nipping embarrassment as you enter the booth and pull on your apron. Maybe you don’t have that much going on, but you’re trying. You’re young. You’re learning. What’s his excuse? 

🎮

You should have done this a lot sooner. You don’t know why you didn’t. Maybe because it didn’t matter before. Before, Jacob was just a boy you played Minecraft with. He was just a voice in a headset. But now, he’s... not. He’s Andy. No. 

He’s dead. 

You stare at the search result and your heart sinks. That, at least, is true. Jacob Barber; death date, last year. The pictures even match. Just a skinny kid, smiling beside his dad and mom. She’s gone too. Lost in the same accident. 

You kick yourself for being so careless. If you’d just searched him up a year ago. Even just reverse searched those pictures, you would’ve pieced it together. The only thing you can be thankful for is that it wasn’t worse. That you’re safe and you can just leave it behind. 

Well, that’s what you want to do. 

You scroll through the rest of the results. There's more, before the death. Articles about a murder and suspects. Jacob was one. What? 

It’s all so messy you can hardly make sense of any of it. You stop and sit back. You think of the man who sat across from you, you remember the look in his eyes, the flicker in his voice. He did sound sorry. 

And after everything? A police investigation then to just lose your son like that? Your only child. 

You know you don’t owe him anything. He lied to you. He had every chance to be honest, from the very beginning. Maybe you wouldn’t have wanted to play with a middle-aged man but maybe you could’ve helped him find somebody. You could’ve at least shared gaming tips.  

It isn’t about him. It’s about closure. This is just a blip on the radar. You have bigger things to worry about. Your grandmother, work, school. The summer’s flying by and tuition fees are higher than last year. Your interest payments are going to spike and you foresee a second job on the horizon. 

You look at your phone, entranced by it. You stand and walk in circles. You come back to your small desk and pick up the cell. The little chat bubble at the bottom has that red dot in the corner; unread messages. You tap it and the dot disappears. 

Jacob-- 

Andy’s chat opens and you slowly key in your message, several times over before you get it right. 

‘I’m signing into the server. I’ll be on until nine. No mining, talking.’ 

That’s it. That’s all. You can’t go back to what it was. You want this to be over. You’re closing the book, cutting the strings. He needs to know what he did was wrong and you need to move on. 

You take a breath and try to calm your nerves. Now that you’ve sent the message, you don’t know if you can do it. It’s too late, he saw it. 

You move slowly as you boot up your switch and plug in your headset. Your heart is racing like crazy. You’re going to have a panic attack. You feel the same wave of nausea you felt back at the con. Ugh. 

You load the server and almost as soon as the textures appear, he joins. Your lip trembles. You hear his mic scuff but he says nothing. No, you’re not here to listen to him. He has to hear you and then you’re done. 

“I’m sorry about your son,” you begin. 

“I... thanks.” 

“But it’s not an excuse,” you interrupt him, “what you did was so wrong.” 

“I know.” 

“Please, let me get this out,” you insist, your voice shaking. “I can’t understand what you’ve been through. I looked it all up and I know that it’s a lot. I, obviously, have never dealt with any of that. You know that, because I told you. Because I trusted you,” you frown as you inhale sharply, tears pricking in your eyes, ���because I thought you were my age, that you were him, your son. Your dead son.” 

You shudder and shake your head, gulping thickly. 

“Do you not see how fucked up that is?” 

He sighs, “I know. I promise you, I wanted to tell you. That’s why... that’s why I wanted to meet. Because you deserved to know and I had to tell it to your face. You deserved that--” 

“Did I deserve to be lied to? Huh? Why—Why did you need to do all that? Why couldn’t you just tell the truth?” 

He sniffles. You’re silent, choked by the sob trapped in your throat. 

“I... He’s gone. I missed him so bad and I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s not an excuse, you’re right,” his voice is raspy, “I... you reminded me of him. Playing his favourite game helped me get through. It was wrong. All of it. I’m not saying you should forgive me, but I’m trying to explain as best as I can. I still don’t really understand why I did it.” 

You swallow and wipe your wet eyes, “you’re right. I don’t need to forgive you. I don’t. I only came on here to say what I needed to before I delete this world. I might be young and stupid but I think you need help. Real help, not some girl on a headset.” 

“Please--” 

His voice cuts off as you hit quit. You feel a pang of guilt. You do feel bad for him but you hope he heard you. You can’t forgive what he did to you, but you can wish the best for him. You hope what you said can make him get the proper help.

[thesassypadawan]

Puck Slut 2 (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s yours and Hayden’s favorite time of the nhl season, when your teams faceoff against one another. And, as usual, you two have a bet in place, loser pays for the tab. Along with yet another interesting little twist…squeeze and tease.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Hockey, fingering, public sex, and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: Hope you lovelies also enjoy Puck Slut .5, Puck Slut 1, and Puck Slut 3.5!

*Pregame*

- First of all, no hockey game would be complete without tasty food and ice-cold drinks. Especially when they’re being enjoyed at someone’s favorite sports bar.

- “I’m surprised you picked here; thought you hated their wings.” Hayden says with a small smirk, taking the drinks from your hands.

- “I do, worst I’ve ever had.” You’d reply all sassily, playfully smacking the brim of his hat. “But you like them and…I figured they’d help lessen the blow when the Leafs lose.”

- Gives your shorts a tug, pulling you down into the booth beside him. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see who’s picking up the tab later.”

- Rolling your eyes; you reach for a nacho, making sure you push them tities against his arm. “Come on, we both know you were going to do it either way.”

- You bet Hay’s going to give your nipple a small tweak for that one. Snatching your chippy the second you squeak and jump. Stupid moose.

- But then he’s all cute and smooth, wrapping his arm around you…resting his head on top of yours. “So, should we make things interesting again?”

- Besides getting to drink to your heart’s content while spending a night out with your man… All right, you’ll play along. “Sure. What dirty idea do you have in mind?”

*Game Time*

- Normally you’d really be into the game. Cheering, hollering, cursing, the whole nine yards. But it’s kind of difficult to do so when your team hasn’t made a single goal and…his big hand was cupping your pussy underneath the table, yours palming his dick.

- Neither of you were allowed to move or try to stimulate yourself. Those were the rules. Only when your boys scored, did you get to be ‘squeezed and teased’.

- The third period had just started with the Leafs up by two. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy ‘squeezing and teasing’ Hayden; those stifled groans, chef’s kiss. It was just…you wanted a turn too, dammit.

- Unfortunately, you do have to wait long. In fact, it isn’t until about five minutes left in the game that the siren finally went off once, twice…and you could feel his finger press softly down.

- A smirk crosses his face, and he chuckles in your ear. “Two? Back-to-back? You’re in for one hell of a ride, angel.”

- Kissing your cheek innocently, he starts to slowly grind his palm against your little cunt. Kneading it so good, that thumb circling your clit through the denim perfectly. Even giving it a hard pinch…you force back a moan when he did so.

- You’re growing wetter and wetter. Whole body heating up, walls fluttering like cray. Just as you’re really getting into it, hips rocking and everything. The buzzer rings and… “End of third; looks like we’re heading to OT.” …Hay stops, pulling his hand out from in-between your squishy pillows.

*Overtime*

- “Bullshit.” You’d sit there, pouting and huffing. Legs shut tightly together; rubbing them desperately, trying to get the sweet friction back. “What now, Mountie Boy?”

- Flashing you that damn panty dropping smile. Hayden pulls your into his lap, placing you right on top of his huge bump. “We up the ante. Winner gets to ask the loser to do one thing…no objections.”

- Wiggling excitedly, you can’t help but grin yourself. A wicked request coming to mind. “Okay…bet. Anything else?”

- “Yeah, let’s have a shootout.” Wrapping a strong arm around your waist, he ruts against your booty. “First to ‘shoot’ has to pay for dinner too.” Hand sliding up your thigh, the hem of your shorts. “Deal?” Fingers slip under your panties, dipping into…

- You let out a small squeal, hands gripping the table. While Hay’s thick digits pump steadily, thumb pushing down hard… “D-deal.”

*Postgame*

- As soon as OT begins, it basically ends. Literally, not even three minutes in and the final buzzer rings out. With neither of you ‘shooting’ and the Leafs coming out on top.

- Hayden can’t drag you out of the booth fast enough. Down the dimly lit hallway. Into the cramped bathroom. Bent over the dinky sink. Panties and shorts around your ankles. “Cashing in your ask already.”

- Cock pressed to your lower back, he mutters smugly while looking at you in the mirror. “You know it. Now on your tiptoes, we got to move quick.”

- Nodding, you eagerly do like he says. Biting your lip as you watch him still have to slouch a bit to line up. Impressive length running between your soaked folds, coating himself thoroughly.

- He only teases for a moment before he’s slamming into you. Hands gripping your hips firmly, yanking you back to meet each powerful thrust. Your sensitive bud grinding into the cold surface of the cracked porcelain, making you whimper and mewl.

- Hooking an arm under your breasts, he hauls your upper body up. Fucking you fast and deep. Bullying and bruising your poor cervix with every bounce. The sound of skin slapping fills the small space, along with your combined pants and grunts. “So wet…so tight. Such a good little puck slut. Going to…”

- “…cum!” That got you clenching hard, gummy walls flexing and squeezing around him. Moans flying from your lips as you crash completely, gushing all over. Followed by him letting out a low growl, painting your insides white. Bucking weakly while he comes down from his high.

- Once your feet are flat on the floor again. Hay pulls you against his chest, tucking you easily under his chin. “About that tab?”

- You bust out in a fit of giggles, swatting his arm playfully. “Yeah, yeah…let me at least get my shorts back on first.”

*Post Postgame*

- You don’t know how, but not only are you able to stand…you can also still walk. Plus, you two ended up managing to not get caught.

- So there you are, leaning on the bar rail. Impatiently tapping your card, waiting to settle the tab. While his cum slowly leaks out of you.

- Hay comes up behind, sporting a cocky grin. Pressing into you, one hand rests on your butt and the other reaches over your head…passing the bartender his card instead. “Don’t worry, I got it. Just make me breakfast tomorrow.”

- Shivering, you feel his sticky seed start to trickle down your leg and your lips turn up into a wicked smile. “Called it…totally knew you would.”

- You got a solid smack for that…worth it.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[bookofbonbon]

into the maze - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Plinth!Reader - Saltburn!AU

Warnings: Swearing. Saltburn spoilers. She pushes him, he pushes her.

Summary: Unable to handle your ignorance of him since his return, Coriolanus searches you out in the maze and confronts you.

Word Count: 1.3k.

A/N: Genuinely just obsessed with the maze scene from Saltburn and couldn't help but, think of pathetic little meow meow Coriolanus Snow as Oliver Quick lmao.

The heavy bass of the deafening music shook the very foundation of the Plinth Estate, every colour of the rainbow lighting up the night sky as Panem’s young Capitol elite all gathered to celebrate Coriolanus Snow’s 19th Birthday. 

It was, by all accounts, the perfect birthday, the Plinth’s having gone above and beyond to ensure the event's perfection by spending a small fortune on it. He should’ve been happy, grateful for it but he wasn’t- it was hard for him to express any gratitude when the youngest of the Plinth family spared him naught but a glance and quiet uttering of happy birthday Coriolanus when he arrived- it was the most you’d spoken to him since he returned to the Capitol. 

Taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, he watches you walk hand in hand into the distance with some Capitol boy. Anger swells in his chest, heat rising steadily up his neck as he watches you giggling and hanging off of someone who isn’t him and before he can really think of what he’s doing, Coriolanus finds his feet following after you and into the maze.

You don’t see him, don’t even hear him but, Coriolanus can see you and he can hear you; your angel wings alluding him with every corner you turn, your voice taking on an airiness he’d only ever heard when you were with him- he has to stop you before you make him do something you’ll regret so, when he reaches the centre of the maze, he calls your name.

Your startle, stumbling away from your nameless hookup of the night. With a hand pressed to your chest, you turn quickly trying to find the source of the voice as your heart raced beneath your palm.

“Oh my god.” You squint into the dark, immediately recognising the bleached-blonde hair. “Coryo? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Since his return from the Capitol you had seen him far more than you would’ve liked, your parents taking him under their wing since the death of your older brother. Several months ago, this scenario would’ve absolutely pleased you, to have the person you once thought yourself in love with always so nearby but, not now- not after the hunger games and Lucy Gray. Not when you knew the truth of his role in your brother’s death.

“I need to talk to you,” Coriolanus slurs before, turning to your nameless hook up. “And you? You need to fuck off.”

“No!” you grab ahold of your hookups arm. “You need to stay and Coriolanus, you need to leave.”

“I won’t tell you again,” Coriolanus suddenly threatens, voice hard and seemingly sober. 

Your hookup looks at you with defeat in his eyes. The very real threat that Coriolanus could impose hanging over the both of you so, he mouths an apology and leaves.

“Oh god,” you groan, pressing your hands against your eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“We need to talk, you can’t keep ignoring me.”

“I can try,” you laugh in disbelief, dropping your hands to finally look at him properly.

He wears white jeans and a matching white, denim jacket - an intricate design of vines of roses sewn into the material - a fine trail of hair leading from his belly button and disappearing beneath his pants, his taut torso on display and antlers on his head. 

“Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“No, we need to talk,” Coriolanus says, a certain urgency in his voice that puts you on alert as he closes in on you. 

“Please, stop… we can’t- we can’t-”

You take a step back with each step that he takes closer to you but his strides are longer than yours and he’s on you before you can even blink; his hands warm and heavy, suffocating against your skin as he grips your arms and lowers his head, trying to force you to look at him. 

“You can’t just throw me away-”

“Get the fuck away from me!” you shove him roughly away. 

Running a hand down your face, you take a ragged breath but it’s expelled quickly, Coriolanus pushing you back just as roughly, cold hard stone pressing into your back. 

“Look, I just gave you what you wanted-!” he cries desperately. “ It was all a show- all of it. I did it all for you- to give you the life you deserve. So, I’m sorry if my performance hurt you.”

You feel the rise and fall of Coriolanus’s chest against your own as he holds you in place with his body, one of his hands finding your jaw and forcing your attention- blue eyes blown almost black as he focuses on nothing else but you; the two of you so close together that you can’t help but notice that despite his slurring words, the stench of alcohol is nowhere to be found on his breath as you take a deep breath, then two- trying desperately to taper the fear now steadily growing inside of you; trapped between him and the Minotaur with nowhere to go.

“It didn't,” you lie. “But I think- I think you need to see somebody. Being a mentor, the games, your time in twelve, it’s all had an impact and I think- I think you need help, okay?”

“No, I don’t. I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you. You’re the only friend I ever had.” 

His words send a chill down your spine.

Only friend.

You think of your brother. You think of Lucy Gray- both whom Coriolanus might’ve once considered friend - their missing presences, a frightening reminder of the fact that Coriolanus Snow still considering you friend was likely the only thing keeping you alive right now. 

“Okay.”

You swallow thickly and try to ignore the tension in your jaw as you muster what little of a smile you could, hoping your lack of response would temper him, put his rambling to an end- but it doesn’t.

“I mean- doesn’t this just prove how much- how much of a good friend I actually am? How much I love you and know you? I know what everyone else says but, none of that matters as long as you know that I’m still the same person. Yeah? You know that, right? That I’m still the same person.”

His eyes bore into yours; warm and searching for your approval, desperate and pathetic. It gives you confidence, makes you feel brave enough to say what you really think.

With his face so close to yours, you watch his blue eyes dart back and forth between your own eyes and lips as he awaits your confirmation that everything will be alright- but it won't. You didn't know Coriolanus, you never did and you never want to.

“I thought I knew you, but, I don't. I don’t know what you are,” you whisper, voice steady. “But, I do know this, you make my fucking blood run cold.”

Coriolanus reels back, your words a hard slap in his face as he shoves you back slightly to remove himself from you. 

He sniffles quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears before, he shoves a bottle you didn’t know he had into your chest and stumbles out of sight, the sound of vomiting following soon after. 

“Coryo-” you call his name quietly. “Are you okay?”

You don’t know why you ask but, you do- perhaps it’s the  small part of you that still cares-

“Fuck you.”

-you swallow it down with a drink from the bottle and tell him, “I think we should go to bed, tomorrow is a new day.”

You jolt as he stumbles into you from behind, pivoting to face you again as he snatches the bottle from your grip.

“I don’t care what you think anymore,” he laughs, raising the bottle toward you in toast. “I’m done with you.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air as he turns his back on you, his figure disappearing back into the maze; the last thing you hear being a faint, “goodbye, sweetheart.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you. 

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver. 

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad. 

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.” 

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to. 

Was this what being threatened felt like? 

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.  

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince. 

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun. 

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes. 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.  

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.  

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again. 

“She’s pretty, right?” 

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve. 

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important. 

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready. 

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop. 

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone. 

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver. 

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood. 

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care. 

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms. 

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him. 

Not that you cared. 

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones. 

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet. 

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—” 

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird. 

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions. 

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty. 

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous. 

Lover boy lover boy lover boy. 

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

[maskerat]

Could I have a tutorial fir the sebastian mask and tail?? Im a sebastian kinnie and I'd love to have one to use for cosplay!!! /nf /genq

oh yes absolutely! I will try my best to include both pictures and additional links to videos for more precise tutorials.

» The Mask

you'll need:

feline mask base (I got mine off of aliexpress, it's also laminated)

light blue & black felt fabric

fuzzy wires (blue and yellow)

mesh (the type usually used for cross stitching embroidery)

1cm thick foam

hot glue gun

first, I've cut off the ears of the feline mask and glued on custom ones made from foam. I've also made the eyeholes slightly bigger and rounder + adding a third eyehole. I've then glued on small teeth at the bottom made from foam as well.

then I grabbed the felt fabric and glued it onto the mask, going along the curves. here's a tutorial for making such a therian mask using felt fabric.

next, I've cut out circle shapes of the mesh and glued it at the back side of the eyes. then I grabbed some acrylic paints and gave the mask some gradients to make it more lively.

after the painting is done, I've made the hair - sadly I threw out the original paper patterns for it, but I suppose this part is pretty custom with how you want the hair to look like.

I made several parts of the hair to give it a layered feel, then I again used acrylic paints for more gradients. lastly for the mask, I've used fuzzy wires to make the angler fish light - making a little bulb from the yellow one and then sticking the blue one into it. I simply then glued it at the back of the mask covering it with some felt fabric for extra stability.

(a back view of the mask)

» The Tail

you'll need:

paper for pattern making

blue plush fabric & blue felt fabric (can be different shades for a more realistic feel)

black felt fabric

hot glue gun

buttons

firstly, I've made a pattern cutouts out of paper. I simply searched up whale plushies and got inspired by them when it comes to seams and such. there's also this tutorial for shark tails if anyone wants to make a bigger and more professional one.

the bottom part - felt fabric and the two sides part - plush fabric.

after sewing all the parts together, there still was a hole in the front that needed to be filled in. I grabbed a piece of the felt fabric and simply sewn it across the other parts, basically winging it. I left one line free for turning the tail inside out, filling it up and then using the invisible ladder stitch to sew it shut.

next I've made the bag details on the tail. I firstly had to measure the girth of the tail, note it down and make approximately 1cm thick "belts" from the black felt fabric to glue around the tail. then I've added details like the "bags" by simply cutting out rectangular and triangular shapes out of the black felt fabric and again glue it on places I deemed the best - this is a pretty custom part too. you can add as many bags or belts as you want. then I've sewn buttons below the triangular shapes of the "bags".

lastly, I've grabbed some old denim fabric pieces and made attachment points. this is how the mechanism for wearing the tail looks like:

and that's it! I hope this helps a bit - tumblr sadly doesn't allow me to add more pictures to one post. perhaps someday I'll make a pdf document pattern so it's easier to follow.

[bettyfrommars]

Somna

a Nightmare Factory blurb

nightmare!eddie & Somna

@somnambulic-thing asked if they could have a job at The Nightmare Factory, and I was happy to oblige. I love these random blurbs with behind-the-scenes Eddie, and I hope to do more. We will see Somna again, in and around the workplace. My blog is 18+ but there aren't any warnings for this. wc: 671

“These things do not happen in dreams, my dear,' he said, vanishing up to his neck. 'They happen only in nightmares.' His head spiraled and he was gone.” - Marissa Meyer, Heartless

A nightmare expert named Somna was recently promoted to supervise set and clothing design after several others were demoted, and for good reason.  The nightmares as of late were suffering from physically inaccurate descriptives of attire, for example: people in the late 1700’s did not wear acid wash denim, and zombies did not drive cars.  A big part of the problem was that nightmare workers were encouraged by the last person in charge of the Simulation Machine to “bring their own clothes and props” and “wear whatever they wanted'. 

An artist in their own right, Somna recoiled at the restrictive laws set in stone by the Nightmare Guild, and preferred to help the nightmares move intuitively, being open to the specific talent of the performer while setting the scene.

After almost a decade of employment, they’d been with that particular wing of the Factory for only a few days when Eddie showed up, knocking on the open door of the prop room to get their attention before disarming them with a sheepish grin and a wave.  

They looked up from a miniaturized model of a town, complete with trees and buildings and tiny people, set on a large table in the middle of the space.  They regarded him with curious eyes, fixing the nametag on the lanyard that hung around their neck.  “Can I help you?”

Eddie was out of his work clothes now, back in his ripped black jeans and battle vest, he moved forward with a lightness about him, lifting up on the balls of his feet when he finally asked the question.  “Somna, right?” He gave them a finger gun, and Somna mirrored it, not entirely sure why.

“That’s me,” Somna looked him up and down, unable to place him at first, but then, reality dawned.  “Wait, aren’t you the one who learned how to bypass nightmare protocol? Almost gave Kevin a stroke?”

Eddie worked his jaw, eyes darting around the room, not sure if he should answer that.

“Your secret is safe with me,” they promised with a palm up as if to swear.  “I’d just love to know how you did it.”

“I was just, determined, I guess,” he answered, raking a ringed hand through his hair, fluffing out his bangs. “I did a lot of research, cashed in on a lot of favors. Names Eddie, by the way.”

Somna waited for a beat, taking in his disheveled, endearing appearance.  “Whoever you are doing this for, they must be very special.”

Eddie licked his lower lip, making cautious eye contact.  “They mean everything to me.”

“Well,” the set designer exhaled, touched by his sincerity and determination.  “I assume you need something from me?”

Eddie hadn’t expected this conversation to be so direct; he’d been ready to beat around the bush for weeks like he had with every other one of the higher up officials.

“I must tell you,” Somna crossed their arms over their chest. “I’ve been where you are before. I started out doing field work, and I fell for a Dreamer once.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised and his curiosity piqued.  He took a few steps forward, still separated by the realistic model of the Nightmare Town in between the two of them, and searched their eyes, anxiously.  “What happened?”

Somna tried to smile, but then it broke and became something else; a hard lip line swallowed by a clearing of their throat.  “I gave up, I guess.  I just didn’t think it was possible to turn it into anything…real.”

Eddie lowered his eyes, unwilling to accept that as a reality for himself.  

“But, I will help you, if I can,” Somna offered, waiting until he raised his chocolate eyes; they were shining hopeful from under full lashes. “I’ll help you make up for the time that I’ve lost with the one I should be with.”

There was a bittersweet moment there where the two became instantly connected in a friendship of shared longing and sorrow, and Eddie would henceforth have a valuable ally for the rest of his time employed as your lovesick ghoul at the Nightmare Factory.  

[natalie-goodmn]

Bare London CentreStage thoughts:

- going with my friend who knew nothing about Bare was so funny. I was like “he doesn’t know that he just did the Jonah Platt LA 2013 riff”. Also he enjoyed it and cried so success

- the way this had 10x better production than the London Palladium concert-

- oh my goddd Role of a Lifetime was insane?? They had interpretive dancers behind Peter acting out Jason and Peter’s comphet- both getting with women but still reaching out to each other and then Jason leaving with his wife at the end. AND they came back at the end during I think Bare??? So SAD but SO GOOD

- This Peter was also amazing. Every time we get a dorky Peter in a production, an angel gets their wings- love that interpretation of Peter, always thinking abt Laurie’s Peter from the concert

- they/them Lucas Carter. They were so good, Wonderland was SO fun!!

- Ivy was so good too!!! They made her more an alt girl than a cool popular girl and tbh that feels more real like yeah. Also they gave her such homoerotic tension with Tanya?? I’m not usually someone that likes the other characters being queer bc I feel like it lessens the isolation of Jason and Peter BUT Ivy & Tanya were so handsy during Rolling

- Ivy was also SO funny in Birthday Bitch. She just kept like screaming but happy screaming?? So it was like “happy birthday bitch! [screech] happy birthday bitch [screech]”

- Also also god All Grown Up. It was so ANGRY and I was like ohh yeah that’s how it should always be performed holy shit- felt really timely with the US rn etc

- a special moment of appreciation for the costume department. Biblically accurate Peter, he WOULD wear double denim to the club. Matt WOULD wear a suit jacket to Ivy’s birthday

- my theory is there’s a direct correlation between the strength of the production and the strength of the Diane Lee. SHE WAS SO GOOD! Incredible physical comedy and just so sweet. “That’s it diane, lip sync” “*nod* okay :D”. Becky also had to pull her away during Pilgrim’s Hands when Peter started his lines and she just accepted it.

- there were so many good choices. In Epiphany, the whole ensemble said the “don’t do this to me Peter”, I literally gasped. Also during the bender among us bit, all the students were on the floor giggling like kids, I thought that was fun

- justice for the Peter and Sister Chantelle hug :(

- they had an ensemble of queer people during God Don’t Make No Trash and I appreciate the details, so many Lucy and Yaks on that stage 😭

- award for Most Accurate Smoking Area Of A Club goes to this production’s Best Kept Secret

- I respect the person that, after Matt saw Peter and Jason kiss, whispered under their breath “ohhh no”

- I have a lot of thoughts abt how niche Bare is and non-mainstream etc but I do really think its so perfect for smaller theatres. Like Absolution & See Me just hit so hard in such an intimate space, it’s sooo beautiful

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 4

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You check yourself in the mirror. The black bob isn’t a bad look. You tilt your head back and forth making the sleek strands wiggles back and forth. The sunglasses complete the look and you ponder overhauling your usual style. You look dangerous.

You resist scratching under the wig and give yourself a smile. You look almost devilish in the get up but you can’t chance being recognised on your mission. No, this is very important. This is revenge. Served tepid.

You sneak out the backdoor and check your phone. You have another message from your new friend. She texted you earlier that she had a new cell already. You hang onto yours like gold, you’re not really sure what you would do if you lost it. Probably turn to the primitive lifestyle.

‘I’m headed to the club, meet you at the cafe.’

‘Sure thing, 🐔💸’ You text.

She texts back a simple question mark.

‘Chicken wing’ you clarify and smack your forehead. You’re such a dweeb. You follow up quickly; I’ll be there.

You head downtown, catching a bus halfway and tossing the transfer. You could use the walk as your nerves are starting to flurry. You approach the cafe and see your friend. She wears a denim skirt and an off-the-shoulder red shirt. Her shoes are the same shade as her top. She looks towards you then the other way, not acknowledging your approach.

You near and give a short ‘psst’. She whips around and sneers in your direction before blanching and saying your name.

“Like it?” You pull down your sunglasses. “I feel like Sandy from Grease. Well, more like Rizzo.”

“Uh, sure, why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t want that guy to recognize me so I figure I could sneak in like this.”

“Ah,” she nods and lets out a sigh, “right. Well, try going to the other one when they card ya.”

“That works too. You’re so clever.”

“Thanks,” she says dully, “come on.”

You give a bounce and follow her down the street. She marches on, set on her path as you skip to keep up. She’s a lot more graceful in her heels. And angry. You worry about Cole, he might not be ready for what she has in store.

“Hopefully that jackass is there but those types usually don’t have anything else going on,” she snarls as if reading your mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You make sure you point him out when you see him. And don’t get to close, I’ll take care of him. No drinks, either. Let’s not take that chance.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, kind of.”

“Don’t worry, I can slip this guy something. Don’t you worry. Men are stupid, he gets distracted by his next mark and I’ll strike first,” she turns the corner and you flutter along with her, joining the queue outside the club.

“You’re so brave,” you admire.

“No, I’m pissed,” she insists as she crosses her arms, slowly shifting with the line.

You peek out around the bodies. You see that man, Auggy. He’s scowling at an ID. You watch him and his eyes flick up as if he can sense you. You recoil quickly and put your chin down.

“Hey, be cool,” your friend touches your elbow, “busy tonight, you just gotta blend in.”

“Mmm, yeah,” you murmur, “I just… I don’t know what I did. I was nice–”

“He’s an old grump,” she scoffs, “who cares how he feels.”

You approach the front of the line and make sure to veer towards the other bouncer, the one with the pudgy belly. He barely looks at your card as he waves you inside. The two of you enter to the buzz of the crowd and blare of speakers. 

“Now, we hunt,” she says, “keep your phone on you. You get close to him, let me know. Oh, and take a picture if you can.”

“Right, uh…”

“I’ll get upstairs, you stay down here,” she directs, “we’ll meet back up in half an hour if we can’t find him.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I got you. Anyone gives you trouble, text me. And give em a punch like I showed you.”

You put your fist up and pat your elbow as you reenact the brief lesson she gave you earlier. She smiles and squeezes your arm.

“Good,” she praises, “now, let’s do this.”

She turns and struts off. You admire her from afar. She’s so cool. And she likes you, you think. She’s a lot nicer than Amanda or Kam. You frown and spin around, looking around at the dancing figures and the bar shining at the far end of the room.

Where to begin…

You twiddle your fingers and give a huff. You have to get in the mindset. The grindset. The findset. Find him. Hmm, you’re not great with faces…

You go to take a step forward and you're suddenly hauled back by your arm. You yipe. No one around you reacts as you’re slammed against the wall, a shadow towering over you. You look up as your sunglasses are torn away and a light is shone in your face. The bouncer lets out a gravelly growl as the small bulb of the flashlight glares in your eyes.

“I knew it was you,” he grits.

“Oh, hi, Auggy!” You chime, “how are you?”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me,” he clicks off the light and leans down until your encased in the blackness of his silhouette. “You don’t want to know me.”

[giggly-squiggily]

Could we have Best Jeanist getting Hawks? Maybe forcing him to bed since he always overworks himself? Thank you so much for opening asks around my birthday!!!!

{Puffs are officially CLOSED}

EEE BEST JEANIST!!! And Hawks aswell! I love writing these two aljejrajkrajk I've gotcha covered, anon! And Happy early/belated birthday! :D

“Hawks.”

Said hero stiffened, feathers ruffling at the tone. Jeanist caught him.

“Oh hey! How’ve you been, Jeanie?” He turned around, hoping the smile on his face didn’t look too fake as Best Jeanist glared. “I was just doing my usual patrol, seeking out bad guys and all that-”

“That’s the issue, Hawks.” That glare got darker, silencing the flying hero. “When was the last time you took a break? Nevermind that- when’s the last time you slept?”

Oof. He was hitting him with the hard questions. Hawks opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “Erm…yesterday?”

Jeanist stared. Then he sighed, holding his brow. “Hawks..”

“Just one hour to go, and I’ll be in bed! Promise!” Hawks tried to slowly back away, the way he always did whenever Endeavor was asking too many questions or an interview with the public was getting boring. “In fact, I’ll patrol around there so I can head straight home!” His wings spread, time to make his escape-

Threads attached themselves to his legs, preventing him from flying off. “That was a dirty trick, Jean.” Hawks groaned.

“You’ve forced my hand. Like over starched denim, you’re beyond difficult to break through.” The threaded hero closed in, cracking his knuckles. “Fine then. If you won’t willingly turn in for the night, I’ll have to make you.”

“What are you- EHEHE!” The blonde all but squealed when Jeanist grabbed his knees, squeezing and kneading. “Jehahahahhanist! Jehhehahhahanie, dohohoohn’t you dahhahahare!”

“Oh I dare.”

Hawks tried to fly away, his entrapped legs making it impossible to take off in the air. He looked like a bee tied to a string, the way he was flailing. “Ahehahahahahahha! Jehahahhanie, pleahhahhahase! Hahhahahve mehehhehhercy!”

“Will you go to bed?” Jeanist raised a brow.

“Yehehehehehhes!”

“Promise?”

“Ohohohoohon my lihihiihihihife!”

“....You sure?”

“JEEHHEHEHANIE!”

“Hm…oh alright.” Jeanist pulled his hands back, watching Hawks slowly lower to the ground in a giggly heap. “Call me the second you get home. If I find out you’ve tricked me, you’re gonna get a way worse tickling.”

“Aahhahye ahhahaye, cahahaptain.” Hawks huffed with a giggly salute before taking off in the air, letting the cool wind lower the heat in his cheeks.

He did go to bed as promised. Eventually.

[eoieopda]

hello! i have a song for the game. Thank you for doing this!

I really like Anywhere by Rita Ora and Namjoon.

thank youu x

oh this was such a cute song! 10/10

listen here

ft. boyf!joon, a whole-ass adventure across Europe in the span of 30 days, reader getting zooted after consuming the tiniest bit of an edible.

just take me anywhere / take me anywhere / anywhere away with you

Until now, every bit of your month-long trip across the European continent had gone according to plan.

Well, plan was generous.

Apart from identifying locations in each of your favorite books; purchasing all necessary travel tickets; and making hotel reservations, there had been no real plan. It was simply you and the best boy, taking in whatever sights you could. Good wine, even better cheese, and perfect company.

You’d left Korea on the first of November, landing in London and staying for two days. The turn-around was almost as quick as the Eurostar, projecting you onward over the rails to Paris. Most of those four days were spent nudging Namjoon along through the Louvre, wondering if he’d ever willingly leave. Begrudgingly, after several hours, he did — no assistance from security was necessary.

The first of your horrifying, turbulent, rickety, budget flights — in a tin can with wings — had delivered you to Barcelona. The second carried you to Milan, with your death grip on Namjoon’s hand lasting for the duration of your time in the air. After train rides from Milan to Rome, then Rome to Venice, a bus had carried you off to Salzburg.

When you’d found yourself in those living, Sound of Music hills, you didn’t even have to ask. Namjoon — without question or comment — joined you in spinning like a fool until you both dropped dizzy in the grass. Maybe it was the altitude, but you could’ve sworn the “I love you” he‘d murmured in that moment hit a little harder than usual.

A train to Vienna, a bus to Budapest, then — gulp — another panicked flight; this time to Kraków. Two days there, then — with a whine and several glasses of its homophone, downed quickly at the airport bar — a fourth flight to Prague. Shortly after, you’d boarded a train to Berlin.

By your fifth low-cost, high-anxiety flight, Namjoon had discovered an antidote. If you were at least as high as the plane itself, the creaking of that tiny, shaky hunk of metal was significantly less upsetting. It was fitting, after all, landing in Amsterdam while still floating off one (1) quarter of an edible.

God, what a light-weight.

Your incessant giggling had been overpowered by Namjoon’s, though he was stone-cold sober — just thoroughly amused. There, the two of you realized you’d made a mistake: the phallogical museum you were fascinated by was in Iceland, not the Netherlands.

On the subsequent train ride to Bruges, you’d vowed to hit the world-renowned dick museum on your next trip. Your current trip was now at its end, leaving you to scurry off to Brussels for a commercial flight back to Incheon.

Unfortunately, inclement weather had grabbed Belgium in a chokehold.

With your backs pressed against the wall, you and Namjoon sat weary on the floor near your gate. Your respective legs were sprawled out in front of you. Head resting on your shoulder, Namjoon spent a large portion of your wait in the liminal space between the dream and waking worlds.

If there had been any local hotels available for the night, he might’ve actually gotten some proper rest — in a bed, but likely still using you as a pillow. Instead, you were stuck where you sat: huddled together in the same terminal you’d been in for many, many hours.

Languidly, you traced mindless patterns into the denim fabric holding onto his quads for dear life. You sighed through a frown as you glanced down at him, “I’m sorry we can’t seem to get home, love.”

Too tired to move, Namjoon merely mumbled from where he’d nestled into your side, “Home is anywhere with you.”

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @chazz-anova @josephslittledeputy @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @adelaidedrubman @voidika @onehornedbeast @thewanderer-000 @corvosattano @derelictheretic @ec-10 @carlosoliveiraa @minilev @nightbloodbix @purplehairsecretlair @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @josephseedisdaddy @neverthesameneveranother @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @henbased and @ladyoriza

As usual three songs for three stories/characters/themes below.

First song up is for Abigail Emmet, the mother of Mario, and just as much as a terrifying alien soul-and-meat-eating shapeshifter as he is. She's been around for a while, even hitching with the Van der Linde Gang as the third founding (adult) member, sticking with it until she and Molly got the hell out of there after witnessing the effect Hosea's death had on Dutch and Micah being a rat. Saddening that Abigail outlived Molly (given her alien origins), but she never once stopped thinking fondly about the O'Shea poet, even when raising Mario. This song absolutely details her longing for Molly, while also letting go for the sake of Mario.

"Lately, I've been waking up In a dreamy state, calling your name Stayed up too late just thinking of you Now I'm knocking on every door 'Cause I heard you moved from twenty-two Has it been that long? I guess time just flew

I've got voices in my head and there's a deafening silence I've got voices in my head and I can't lie

I've been holding on to pieces Swimming in the deep end Tryna find my way back to you 'cause I'm needing A little bit of love A little bit of love, I need a little love Just like the air I'm breathing These open wounds ain't healing Tryna find my way back to you 'cause I'm needing A little bit of love A little bit of love, a little bit of love A little bit of love

I tried to fly but I used my wings too soon Now everything got me thinking of you I tried a million times to cut you loose."

Next up, a song for Silva's Hope and maybe a bit of Old Dusk, the two main stories for Silva in Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. I think it just fits the religious themes found in the fics' and the game, but also twisting it to reveal the darker and lighter aspects that not only come off as seductive but reveal what's exactly underneath the surface of the Voice's Prophecy and the Collapse, and whether it's better to choose the safer path and obey the prophecy while risking loss of identity and restricted by extremely controlling expectations that are unrealistic or take the risk and step out of the status quo for the sake of having the freedom to choose and to defy a fate other's push onto themselves and their neighbors, all the while having to contend with the possibility of being lost in the unknown.

"Call me wild, drinkin' up the sunshine Be my man and show me what it feels like Denim sky, unbuttoned down the middle Spillin' out little by little

Tiger on the prowl East of Eden Comin' for you now

Keep me from the cages under the control Runnin' in the dark to find east of Eden Keep me from the cages under the control Runnin' in the dark to find east of Eden

To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) To find east of Eden (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

If I wanted to stay You don't mind, you're a true believer (True believer) Take it up with the badlands Creep on in like a concrete fever

If I wanted to stay You don't mind, you're a true believer (True believer) Take it up with the badlands Creep on in like a concrete fever."

And finally something for the antagonists. Ranging from the charming yet arrogant Edward Carmine to the callous and controlling Zachariah from The UnTitledverse. From the hypocritical monster that is Father Adam Omar to the fatalistic pessimism that fuels Paul Yellowjack's miserable self-loathing in Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. From the Court King who wants to conquer his worlds back, to the Director of the Midnight Rise, Sir Enigma Malvolio, who brings despair wherever his expeditions take him throughout Life, Despair & Monsters. From the well-meaning extremist Xiang Ba'al to the Mad God of Carnage himself, Discord in the originals works that will diverge from Wings And Horns. There are many more of interest, but the list is as tall as the rest of my original characters. But one commonality can be found with these characters... a question that evades an answer... will they ever be satisfied after reaching their goals? Or... will they go further until they've crashed and burned?

ALSO! TW: There is brief mention of suicidal idealization in one verse with probably more mature themes hidden in the lyrics. Just putting it out there to be weary listening and reading.

"I was pulling out my hair The day I got the deal Chemically calm Was I meant to feel happy That my life was just about to change?

One life pretending to be The cat who got the cream Oh, everybody said, "Marina is a dreamer" People like to tell you what you're gonna be It's not my problem if you don't see what I see And I do not give a damn if you don't believe

My problem, it's my problem that I never am happy It's my problem, it's my problem on how fast I will succeed

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life?

High achiever, don't you see? Baby, nothing comes for free They say I'm a control freak Driven by a greed to succeed Nobody can stop me

'Cause it's my problem if I wanna pack up and run away It's my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway It's my problem, it's my problem if I feel the need to hide And it's my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? Are you satisfied with an easy ride? Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

Sad inside, in this life Unsatisfied, praying Sad inside, in this life Unsatisfied, waiting

Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? Are you satisfied with an easy ride? Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied? Are you satisfied?) Are you satisfied? Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied?) Black, white (Are you satisfied, are you satisfied?) Are you satisfied? Black, white."

[gemwing1988]

A Little Help from a Friend

A remake of an old fic to thank @lovegabe1999 for doing a small fanart of her OC, Shan Lee protecting my persona from the Devil about a year ago. The last one was a bit rushed and I thought I’d redo it from scratch with a few changes since I decided that my original outfit design would be best suited for a future Kingdom Hearts AU in the distant future.

The Devil and Dijimmi belong to StudioMDHR, Shan Lee is created and owned by the lovely @lovegabe1999 and Katie Gemwing is the persona of yours truly.

It was a peaceful and beautiful day on the Inkwell Isles after months of peace and tranquillity.

For the young demi-goddess, Shan Lee, things couldn’t have been better.

Things have been peaceful since the Devil was defeated by the brave young brothers, Cuphead and Mugman and all of the former debtors who made a deal with him had been cleared of their debts.

Shan Lee’s included.

Today, she and her good friend, Dijimmi the Great, were out on a picnic over at a peaceful little glade in the woods, enjoying the weather and the scenery.

“This is the life.” Shan Lee sighed as she took a sip of her ice cold beverage.

“You can say that again.” Dijimmi happily agreed before taking a couple of contented puffs of his pipe.

They could have never asked for a better day to spend some time together. And since the Devil hadn’t shown his face up on the surface for the passing months, it would seem no one had to worry about him fearing his ugly, hairy face again anytime soon.

Or so they thought…

Just then, a piercing scream shattered the tranquil silence, disrupting the songs of nature.

Shan Lee gasped as she nearly dropped her cup. The scream was so sudden, it made Dijimmi accidentally inhale some smoke down his throat, causing him to cough on it.

“W-wh-what th-the heck w-was th-that?!” Dijimmi sputtered as he lightly pounded in his chest to clear the pipe smoke out.

“I-I don’t know.” Shan Lee answered, getting up from the red and white checkerboard print picnic blanket. “But what I do know is that it sounds like somebody’s in trouble! Hurry! We’d better go see if they need help!”

Once Djimmi recovered from his smoke fiasco, he and Shan Lee hurried towards the source of the scream which was deep in the woods. They soon entered the clearing to see that a person they had never met before is being chased down by none other but the Devil himself, who was in his serpent dragon form.

The person he was terrorizing was a young woman with fair skin, dark chocolate brown hair in a short bobcut and light blue eyes.

She wore a crystal denim jacket with breast pockets, white rolled-up cuffs on the sleeves, hoodie pockets and a midnight blue hidden Mickey Mouse patch on the right breast of the jacket. Underneath the jacket is a midnight blue tank top with a light blue collar and shoulders, medium blue denim jeans, a light purple belt and black knee-length boots.

On her right wrist is a bracelet made from light blue woven cords with three beads (two are pearl white and the one in the middle is a crocus purple) and a silver heart locket bracelet with what appears to be a tear shaped pearl in the centre. On the left wrist is a silver bracelet.

Around her neck is a silver locket designed and shaped like a book with a heart and what appears to be wings engravings as well as a teardrop-shaped diamond in the centre.

The young woman was frantically running away from the Devil, all the while struggling to pry off a golden cuff-like band that was wrapped around her left wrist.

“The Devil!” Dijimmi gasped.

“And that woman’s in trouble!” Shan Lee cried.

The woman tripped over a rock and struggled to get back onto her feet until the Devil ensnared her in his furry coils, wrapping her up to her ribs in his clutches.

“Not so fast, darling!” The Devil sneered. “You’re not going anywhere! You’re mine now!”

“NO! Let me go!” The woman screamed, struggling in the demon’s coils.

“Oh, I could never let you go, my love.” The Devil crooned. “I’love keep you nice and snuggled in my grip.”

Much to the disgust of their unknown witnesses, the Devil leans his head down and flicks his tongue at the woman’s neck and cheek with his twin tongues before he nuzzles her cheek with his own.

“Ugh! That creep!” Shan Lee growled. “That does it!”

Without a second thought, she leapt out of hiding and drop kicked the Devil over the head.

“Ow!” The Devil yelled as the kick made him lose his grip and dropped the woman to the ground. “What in the-?!”

“You leave that poor woman alone, you creep!” Shan Lee demanded.

“What?! You!” The Devil snarled. “You stay out of this, you puny demi-goddess! This doesn’t concern you!”

“It most certainly does if it concerns you terrorizing and harassing innocent people like that girl here!”

The Devil hissed like an angry serpent as he lunged for Shan Lee, who got out a bo staff and whacked him across the face with it, making him shriek in pain.

Dijimmi, with his magic, duplicated himself, wearing cheerleader outfits and waving pom-poms as they cheered, “Rick ‘em, rack ‘em, rock ‘em, rake! Wallop that creepy old snake!”

“You! Sssshut up!” The Devil hissed, shooting a threatening glare at the orange genie.

His duplicates merging into a single himself again, Dijimmi got out a tiny flag with the letter “D” that has little devil horns and a tail on it in his hand and dully waved it, sarcastically cheering for the Devil in a blunt and bored tone:

“Devil, Devil, he’s our man. If he can’t do it… GREAT!!!”

While Shan Lee and the Devil continued to duke it out, the woman was struggling to remove the cuff still around her wrist, catching Dijimmi’s concern.

“You okay there, miss?” He asked.

“The Devil clamped this stupid cuff in me!” The woman in blue grunted. “I can’t get this darn thing off!”

“Oh! I can help with that!” Dijimmi offered.

With a snap of his fingers, the cuff magically snapped open and fell off the girl’s wrist.

“The Devil might be more powerful than me, but at least my magic’s strong enough to remove some small magic trinkets.” Dijimmi smirked proudly.

“Thanks.” The woman said. “Now I can be of some help!”

Just then, the woman transformed into a beautiful crystal blue dragon with a white underbelly, a white crest that resembles a mane, white spines in the small of her tail as well as a tuft of white fur at the tip and white claws. She has curved white horns atop of her head and dainty deer-like ears. She still has the same blue eyes and large feathery midnight blue wings to seem to sparkle like stars under the sunlight.

She a dark blueish-black necklace with the pendant being a round blue gemstone with two silver beads on each end as well as one at the bottom with purple scarf-like ribbons with light blue tips to resemble feathers. White-gold bracers with a blue teardrop-shaped gemstone at the top and tiny round blue ones at the bottom.

Roaring, the dragon flies towards the Devil, leaving Dijimmi dumbfounded with shock and confusion, mumbling, “That’s new…”

The Devil had Shan Lee cornered at a tree and was about to ensnare her when the dragon swiped his claws across his face, scratching his nose.

“OUCH!!!”

The dragon then opened her mouth and zapped the Devil with a stream of blue electricity.

ZAP ZAP ZAP!

With the Devil scorched from the zapping, Shan Lee took the opportunity to deliver the final blow, knocking the Devil out.

The Devil crumpled to the ground and returned to his normal form, beaten, battered and bruised with a couple of torn out fur and wearing a couple of bandages as he groaned.

“Thanks for the help.” The dragon smiled in gratitude. “The Devil just doesn’t know when to leave me alone.”

“Wait! You’re a dragon?!” Shan Lee exclaimed in surprise.

The dragon looked herself over before she shrugged, “Last I checked, yes. Technically, I’m half-dragon.”

“That’s so amazing!” Shan Lee beamed, overcoming her shock. “I just so happen to be a demi-goddess myself.”

“Really?” The dragon gasped. “That’s really amazing.”

“And no worries about helping you back there. It’s always good to help out someone in need. Most especially a new friend. I’m Shan Lee by the way. And this is my good friend, Dijimmi the Great.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dijimmi said, bowing in greeting.

“I’m very happy to meet you both.” The dragon smiled before she transformed back into a human.

“Y’know, we’ve never really met anyone like you before on the Isles.” Dijimmi stated. “That you can turn into a talking dragon, I mean. I know my pal, Grim Matchstick is a Dragin himself, but this is the first time I met a dragon with wings as unique as yours.”

“I can do lots of things.” The Dragin girl said. “By the way, I’m Katie. Katie Gemwing.”

“That’s such a beautiful name.” Shan Lee said. “But what was that all about with the Devil trying to kidnap you earlier?”

Katie shuddered. “Oh, that monster had up and decided to make me his wife and queen and use my magic for dimensional conquest. That’s a LONG story for another time.”

“Yeesh!” Dijimmi winced in disgust.

“Aw jeez! What is he? King Bowser?” Shan Lee grimanced.

“I’d might as well be the Princess Peach to his King Bowser if that’s the case.” Katie groaned.

Changing the subject, Shan Lee spoke, “Well, what matters is that you’re safe now. How about you join Jimmi and me for a picnic? You must be hungry from all of that.”

Katie blushed as she heard her own stomach grumble, gently placing her hand over it as if to stifle the growls.

“I guess I did missed out on lunch when I ended up here.” Katie replied sheepishly. “So yes, that would be so lovely, please.”

As Shan Lee and Dijimmi led Katie back to their picnic spot, Shan Lee realized this was the day she had made a new friend.

[littleshopofchaos]

The Night The World Started Turning

The Night The World Started Turning

Summary: Samantha Preston hasn’t had a great life, there have been troubles. But her world is rocked when a woman named Tara Clarke promises her a night she’ll never forget. 2nd Theme of the 100 Theme Challenge: Love.

Samantha

Tired of running. Tired of chasing dreams that will never be. I have tried love before and its ended with me in cells, or in the mental health hospital because they’ve put me there.

My world stopped turning a long time ago.

I’m tired of being the assassin everybody wants to kill. I just want to be loved and I’ll love in return. I’m tired of being used in a game, like chess. I’m tired of life.

I just want out.

Sometimes I wonder if I should truly disappear, or make it off planet somehow. Everybody talks about Angels and Demons, but I never seem to bump into them. I want to see those heavenly wings and the halo’s so sharp they could behead a man. God, what I’d pay to see that up close.

What I’d pay to have them take me away from here.

I want a dog, a life where I have a family...but here I am, drowning my sorrows in some bar in the middle of Nottingham. The night is still young but I can hear screaming in my head. And I’m not quite sure who the screaming belongs to. Is it myself or my victims haunting my ass?

I’ve been here in Nottingham for about a week. I used to work for the god damn President of The USA. But here? I’m a nobody. And I like it that way. The only people who know who I am, are government figures that have better things to worry about than trying to live through another depressing day and trying to avoid death at any cost.

The bar is full of lively young women, looking for a good time. Chatting amongst themselves and showing off some jewellery they get for cheap or passing around shots like they’re the holy grail. Some men are serving others; the chatter almost as loud as the music and its drowning all other thoughts out.

I’m drinking a lemonade. Alcohol is just full of regrets and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow with anymore of them in my bed; tired of sleeping in a hazy mess and bloody sheets and not being too sure of whose blood is who. The lemonade is refreshing. Slow sips, to savour.

A song comes on in the bar – Tragedy by Steps. Gotta say, I love this song. It gives club vibes and its fun and -

The heat is rising in the club and its wrapping its arms around my shoulders; suffocating me. Trying to breathe, I drag my head to look to my left, towards the door.

“Are you alright, my love?” A gentle hand touches me and its amazing; like a burst of ice, a shield blasting back the heat like a knight protecting a damsel in distress.

I turn to my right and my heart stops. I check to see if I’m still breathing, but my eyes never leave this person’s face. They are beautiful.

Shivers run down my spine and I turn my entire body to face her. She is a siren and I am her victim.

In the blinding halo of the lights above, this woman is like an Angel...or rather, is she the Demon I've been holding out for?

Long curly black hair to her hips, with tints of a mossy dark green thanks to the light and matching ivy green lipstick. This woman is rocking this look. Her clothes are matching too; a black tank top with green shorts made of denim. And she’s got tattoos. She must look around my age, around thirty but her tattoos are incredible. Big dragons swirl up her thighs in bursts of all the colours of the rainbow and -

Oh god. I’m staring.

I hear her begin to laugh and her whole body shakes. She orders a rum and coke from the bar and pulls up a chair beside me. I’m getting colder. The whole room seems to be getting colder, but how can one woman be doing that?

“I’m Tara Clarke. Its nice to meet you, darling. You come here often?.” Her voice is bubbly.

She seems sober. For how much longer, I can not answer.

“Samantha. Samantha Preston.” I stumble over my own name, the screaming in my head slowly beginning to fade. Like magic. She’s doing something to me.

She is most definitely doing something to me.

The bartender slides the rum and coke her way and she offers me the coke, whilst she takes the rum. I down the lemonade, an urge to finish it washing over me.

“Thirsty?” She teases. “You look like you haven’t had anyone care about you in a long while.”

I put the lemonade glass on the table, looking at her again with a sense of curiosity.

“What are you?” I ask; something within me is telling me Tara is not human.

“I’m whatever you need me to be.” Tara smirks and sits down, one leg crossed over the other.

“What are you?” I ask again, more urgently.

“How about you fuck around and find out?”

We end up talking for a while, as if we’re old friends reuniting from time apart. It became easier somehow, to talk about my problems to someone who genuinely wanted to listen without shoving drugs down my throat.

It becomes easier when you’re just nicer. When you’re beautiful. When you’re genuine.

I had felt weird the entire night, like I had been called here for a reason. And now the world seems to be turning again; I can feel it beneath my feet,

We get up to dance, the earth spins, my own feet spinning as we dance to the songs that come on and we melt and move around the other girls at the bar.

“Tara.” Her name falls off my lips like a shock to my system and she draws me in closer, her hands around my waist.

“Yes, Samantha?” She whispers in my ear, nibbling as she pulls away.

“If God has sent you to me, then who am I to decline?” I gasp, everything and everyone disappearing.

All that is in my vision is her. Me and her and nobody else but the music to play with. I can’t remember what I’ve drank. Time has passed in a blink of an eye and yet, I don’t want this to end.

Is this what its like to fall in love? How do you know it won’t hurt when you fall? Will you be able to get back up again?

Whoever this woman is...I want her. I want to take a chance on her, for a brighter future.

“I can show you a night, a future that you’ve been dreaming of. If you’ll let me.” Tara holds out a hand to me

I nod, eagerly taking it. Only a fool rushes in, and a fool I will gladly be. For one ounce of happiness, one slice of cake that can provide the love that I want.

“Now. Since when have you ever believed in God?” Tara teases and laughs as my eyes widen.

She knows who I am because who wouldn’t….she knows me because she’s a demon.

And she was sent to save my soul.

We run away, into the night.