#SOMEBODY BETTER BE RECORDING I SWEAR.

[cadeirl]

THE SCREAM I LET OUT.

[voidst7rn]

𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 - c. sturniolo

chris x fem!reader

— warnings ; smutt, dom!chris, pet names (baby), oral (fem receiving), praise, swearing, edging, overstimulation, p in v, no use of y/n,degradation.. (he called you a whore.)

— summary ➞ chris always knows how to make you feel good, but this time it was too much and it lasted way too long.

— a/n ; i was half asleep making this it may be kindaa shit ignore that loll. also the smut part is like.. kind of abrupt so ignore that i had no idea how to do the build up at the time and i did nawwttt proof read so

you were laying in chris’ bed, waiting for him to come back from filming. it was around one in the morning, and the triplets had left to film a friday video since they had no more pre-recorded videos.

you were half-asleep, your eyes shutting before you heard the front door open.

the sound of footsteps and faint singing gradually got louder as somebody approached the room. chris’ voice got more recognizable as he opened the door, getting closer to the bed.

chris moves your hair out your face, leaving a light kiss to your temple, “you okay?”

you nodded, “tired.”

“what did you do while i was gone?” chris asked softly, making his way to his closet to change into more comfortable clothing.

“nothing really,” you said quietly.

“hm?” he hummed, looking back at you.

“sorry. i didn’t do anything, i was mainly just-“

“stop saying sorry,” chris interrupted, taking off his hoodie, “i start feeling bad.”

“i know, you tell me that every day.” the attitude was evident in your voice, possibly due to the fact you were half awake.

“what’s the attitude for?” chris said innocently, making his way back over to the bed, “did i do something?”

“i don’t have a-“

“shh, stop talking.” he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, sinking into the mattress in his usual position beside you.

he continued to kiss other parts of your body, getting you closer to the sleep you’ve been craving the past hour.

you don’t know how long you’ve been in this position.

your thighs were suffocating chris’ neck as he continued to devour you, unable to stop even after several of your desperate pleas.

you were up to what was supposed to be your fourth orgasm, if chris had let you finish. he would stop as soon as your grip on his hair loosened, your thighs stopped clenching around his neck, and any of the other signs he’s grown used to in the past couple months.

it felt so good, but you were so tired.

“chris, please, i wanna-“

he slapped your thigh, causing you to whimper in response. he continued his movements with his tongue. he didn’t have to use his fingers once.

you groaned once he pulled his face off you again, kissing the areas around your core. you began to grow frustrated from being denied your orgasm several times, sighing once it faded away.

“why can’t i just-“

chris looked up at you, removing his face from between your legs. he pushed your aching legs off his shoulders, starting to push down his pajama pants.

“since you’re so desperate,” he mumbled in your ear, kicking his pants off his ankles, “you don’t get to cum until i tell you to.”

you didn’t respond, watching as he pumped himself a few times, before lining himself up with your entrance.

“now you wanna be quiet?” chris whispered, teasingly grazing your entrance with his tip, “don’t you want me to fuck you?”

you slowly nodded.

“words, baby,” chris kissed under your ear, “i need words.”

“please fuck me chris,” you muttered, blinded by the pleasure you’ve been craving.

“good girl,” he praises, pushing his cock deep inside you. he gave you time to adjust before moving slowly, “feel good?”

quiet whimpers left your lips as he continued to thrust into you, his chest pressing against yours as he leaned over to fuck you at a better angle.

one of his hands moves to your stomach, massaging gently as he continues to stretch you out, “that’s it, baby,” he increased his pace, a loud, surprised moan escaping your lips as he hit that one spot he always manages to find.

you started to feel your orgasm building up, forgetting about his earlier words.

“i’m gonna-“

“no,” chris said, increasing the speed of his hips. he kissed your neck, “hold it.”

you whined as he continued to thrust into you, trying your best to hold in your upcoming orgasm. it was starting to become too overwhelming; it was too much.

“stop… just let me- please…”

“fucking whore,” he muttered, “if you want me to stop so bad you know what to say.”

you stayed silent, holding back your impending orgasm as chris continued to thrust into you, gradually getting more sloppy and out of rhythm.

“please just let me cum,” you whispered, thighs weak as he spread your legs even further.

“fine,” he muttered darkly, trying his best to keep an even pace.

with his words you came on his cock. he groaned from the feeling, pulling out and releasing on your stomach.

he brought his lips to your neck, leaving light fluttery kisses in several different spots.

“too much?”

you nodded.

[nightfang22]

For the wayne smut could you add the idea of them losing their virginity to each other. Thank you<3

Of course I can!Thank you so much and I hope you love it!Sorry if it's not great,it is my first spicy fic.Anyways,lemme know what you think!

Virgin Lovers

Warnings:SMUT Minors DNI

Pairing:Wayne McCullough x f!Reader

Word Count:1.5k

His smile. His eyes. His lips. Wayne McCullough infected your every thought. He made you feel things that you had never felt before. As you were lost in thought, you didn't realize that your phone had been constantly buzzing. You picked it up on the third ring of the 4th call. "Hello?"

"Hey Y/n, you got any plans later?" It was Orlando. You and Orlando had always been good friends which is how you met Wayne. Orlando had introduced you two one day when you had begged him not to make you skip class alone.

                                                         *Flashback*

"Pleaseeeee Orlando? I don't wanna go alone and you're way better at this than I am! Besides, I'm only skipping to help you get these new Pokemon cards you wanted! I don't have to do this, you know." You pouted and whined until he conceded. "Fine fine I'll go with you. You probably wouldn't know what to look for anyways." You were about to make an offended rebuttal when something else caught his attention. Or someone, you should say. Turning around to see who it was, you thought it was just going to be the girl he's been constantly crushing on with a spinal cage. But no. When you turned around, you saw none other than Wayne McCullough walking in your direction down the hallway. You felt your heart pound and your cheeks flush. Your throat constricted and suddenly your mouth had run dry. You guess Orlando had noticed this and nudged you in the side with his elbow. "Oooo somebody got it bad, huh? Who is it? Is it the guy with the clarinet you have band with?" You jabbed him with your elbow back and tried not to stare at Wayne's gorgeously bruised up face. Orlando caught notice and smiled wide. "Oh, you got it bad for my boy, Wayne huh? Want me to hook you up?" Your head snapped violently in his direction. "I swear to the Gods Orlando, if you embarrass me in front of him I will kill you." Wayne walked up to us and looked at Orlando, giving a little head nod. "Wayne man! Where you been?" Wayne chuckled a little and it was this sexy soft rumbling noise. "Whatcha mean? I'm like 20 minutes late." Orlando laughed. "Yeah 20 minutes and like 3 weeks!" Orlando must have seen you fidgeting with the rings on the chain around your neck cause he put his hand on your shoulder and looked at Wayne. "Wayne, this is Y/n L/n. She's new-ish. She was new, like a month ago." You felt Wayne's eyes on you and you looked up at him through your eyelashes before smiling awkwardly. "Y/n, this is the man. The myth. The legend. My best friend, Wayne mothafuckin McCullough." Wayne punched Orlando in the shoulder and he winced. "Damn man! I'm tryin to do you a favor!" Wayne's eyes never left yours, even when you felt your cheeks tinge pink and you looked away briefly.

                                                     *Flashback Over*

You had been inseparable ever since. Wayne ended up cutting class with you and at some point you had completely lost Orlando and went to some record store where Wayne had asked you if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. You and Wayne have been together for 3 years now and you could never be happier.

"Uh not really. Probably just homework. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me and Wayne to this club off campus later? It's supposed to be super rave and like alternative vibes and I know that's your shit. It took me forever to get Wayne to agree and I maybe sorta already told him you'd go?" "Orlando!"

"I'm tryin to get a hot goth girlfriend! Help a brotha out!"

  I sigh in defeat through my nose. "Fine. I'll go. But the moment anyone is too drunk, we're leaving. Got it?"

 "Yeah yeah for sure! Thanks, Y/n! You the best!"

                                                *Timeskip to the club*

You look around at your environment. It's a lot of flashing lights and loud music. Not really your scene. You scan the crowd for Orlando and Wayne when you spot them against the wall outside. You walk up to them and you notice Wayne's eyes scan up and down your body. You're wearing a faux leather 2 piece with a silver body chain covered in dangly purple and blue rhinestones with black sparkly platforms. "Hey guys, sorry if I'm late I-" You get interrupted by Wayne pulling you in by the waist. He keeps you close to him and it looks like he's glaring at something when you look up at his face. You look over and see him glaring at some guy. The creep looked like he was eyeing you and you weren't for it. You curled closer to Wayne before Orlando waved us to go inside with him. The place was loud but very hype and fun. It didn't really seem like your kind of scene though. You don't get why Orlando wanted us to come. Neither you or Wayne were much of the party type. After watching everyone dance for a while, you decided to call it a night.

Wayne took you home and got you settled inside, laying you down in bed. You just laid there staring at his beautiful face. "I love you." Wayne never blushes but his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. You don't know where the courage came from but you leaned up and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss quickly evolved into a heated makeout session. Wayne crawled into bed on to of you, pulling away only to take off his shoes cause he knows you have a thing about shoes on the bed. His hands roam your body in your pretty outfit. You pull away tossing off your body chain and making quick work of his shirt. Wayne wasn't necessarily 'buff' but he was very well tones and had a gorgeous frame. Your hands glided from his shoulders down to his waistline, working on the button of his jeans. He pulled away to look at you. "Are you sure? I-I mean I've never. And you've never. What if you regret it?" You pull him in for a sweet kiss. "I could never regret it. If anything, I wouldn't want to lose it to anyone else." That must have really got him going cause he practically tore off your clothes. He slid his jeans off along with his underwear and kissed my neck, pulling a gasp from you. When he pulls away, you finally have a good chance to look at him and holy fuck. You didn't realize your boyfriend was so….well endowed. Big enough that it looked like it might hurt. Wayne grabbed something out of his wallet and when you noticed what it was, he looked at you sheepishly. "Orlando gave it to me." He shrugged and smiled shyly. He rolled on the condom and crawled back over you. "And you're absolutely sure?" You nodded and placed your arms around his neck so that you could play with his hair. He placed himself at your entrance before stopping. "Hang on gimme your leg." You looked at him confused before lifting your leg and he placed it up on his shoulder, doing the same with the other one. "I read somewhere that it hurts less if you do it like this." He realigned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You felt tears prick your eyes as he stretched you and he kissed your forehead, stopping. He made you look into his eyes. "Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head. He stayed still, waiting for you to adjust until you nodded you head. He began to move and even though it hurt, it was a good hurt. You moaned softly as he bottomed out inside you. Wayne gently bit down on your shoulder and kissed it before placing his forehead on yours, beginning to find a steady rhythm. Your moans were the sweetest sound he had ever heard and he just wanted to keep hearing them. With one especially rough thrust he hit that special spot inside you and you arched your back while digging your nails into his and he ate that shit up. He continued at that pace as you screamed out his name in pure ecstasy. You felt the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and your breathing picked up more. He held you close as you came crashing down from your high as his hips stuttered, painting the inside of the condom with his seed. He pulled out slowly, tossing the condom into the bin. He got up to grab a towel to clean you up and brought back a glass of water for you. After you're all cleaned up, he crawls back into bed with you, covering you up and pulling you close as you slowly fall asleep in his arms.

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 2 - here is the LINK to the first part! Leni has to act dumb to everything Max has told her when they’re in Monza where Kelly is. She witnesses a somewhat awkward interaction and Max gets suspicious when Leni is close with Carlos.

Warnings: mentions of arguments, probs some swearing, jealousy and impure thoughts. A little naughty thing happens between Leni and Max, but nothing major.

A couple days later we were all back together in Monza for the following Grand Prix. It was more than a success for Red Bull, with Checo taking second and Max taking yet another win. Red Bull now had 10 consecutive wins a row. It was party central around the grid, plus Sainz had bagged 3rd place which he truly deserved, he fought off the RB’s like a mad man for a good 15 laps. After his birthday yesterday, I congratulated him with a massive hug.

“You really deserved that, well done.” I hugged the Spanish man. I’d met Carlos years ago when he signed with Red Bull back in 2010.(I fancied him). Now he just felt like my older brother. Okay maybe that was a weird thing to say.

“Thank you, miss Leni. I missed you.” He gave me a tight squeeze back as I smiled adoringly towards Carlos. “I miss you Carlos, I hope Ferrari are treating you better than before the summer break.” I half joked.

“Yeah, me too.” His eyes widened. “Will you be out tonight?” Carlos then questioned. “Probably, I think we’ll be at the same place, -are you celebrating your birthday too?” “Of course.” He smirked. “I’ll come over and say hi. Get you a couple birthday shots!” I nodded as the older man laughed. “Drinking competition.”

“Are you trying to kill me? I’ll see you tonight, Carlos.” “Yes, let me know when you are in there. I think somebody wants to speak to you.” Carlos nodded behind me as my brows furrowed slightly as I spun around, hand sliding off Carlos’ arm. Max was lingering, a huge smile plastered across his face as he attempted to bite it back, nodding towards Carlos. My heart fluttered pathetically as I laughed out of pure ecstasy.

“Max!” The two of us embraced tightly as he lifted me up. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you.” I felt the breath of his laughter against my bare shoulder as he gently eased me back to the ground.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m so happy.” He modestly spoke, cheeks flustered from his excitement. The whole morning I had to act sheepishly around him and Kelly, purely because of what he told me when he was drunk. For a second of seeing him, I forgot what I felt awkward about. But when his hand lingered on my upper back, I felt the exact same itch of guilt that had pestered me all day.

“Good, you should be. You’ll be celebrating tonight, right?”

“Maybe, maybe.” He shrugged, hand slipping off as I crossed my hands over my chest. “Maybe? Max you’ve literally beaten a world record, you can’t not!” I nagged, pulling on his arm dramatically.

He smirked sheepishly, laughing to himself as we began walking back to the Red Bull garage. “Carlos is going out!” I spoke, as though that would sway him. “I’m sure Checo is too!” “Go party with Carlos.” Max shrugged nudging my arm. “Huh?” I asked loudly. “Huh?” He mimicked as I scoffed out a laugh. “I thought you… you know- I mean now you’re single-” “Ew, what’re you trying to say?”

“Yes, what are you trying to say, Max?” Another female voice interrupted and I tilted my head up, stomach sinking to see Kelly. “Hi Kelly!” I politely smiled. “Hey.” She smiled back. It was about as far as our friendship ever got, I always made an effort with her, but she was quiet in general, maybe the 13 year age difference between us was a bit too extreme. I was just being a hater.

“Well I thought now Leni is single she might have been… interested in Carlos.”

“Oh.” Kelly’s face relaxed as I felt my frown grow harder. “Carlos? He’s known me since I was like 9!” I grimaced towards Max, feeling Kelly staring right back to her boyfriend. Max shifted uncomfortably. I felt uncomfortable- god he needed to just tell the woman what he was feeling.

“Oops.” Max shrugged as we shared another laugh. Kelly on the other hand, didn’t seem amused. “No hug for me, Max?” She sassed as I felt my stomach churn in guilt. Max’s mouth opened to respond and I wanted to yell out, hug her you fool.

“I’m gonna go, see you both later.” I awkwardly excused myself, wanting to literally throw myself off a cliff. A shudder ran down my spine, cringing at the whole interaction. This whole crush on Max had to stop, how the hell could I limit interaction between us without it looking so obvious?

Limiting interaction is what I tried to do. I kept my distance from Max the whole evening, opting to chat with Checo rather than be around where he and Kelly bickered. It wasn’t anything new the arguments, my dad often said it was Max’s number 1 distraction. Knowing what I now knew, I agreed. I just had to keep my head down and act like whatever they were arguing about wasn’t loud enough that you could hear Kelly over the music.

Minutes later she stormed out, tipping a few drinks off the table in the process. Max groaned into his hands, luckily, Hannah, the strategist, reassured Max she was leaving anyway and she’d fix it. I kinda felt bad for him, he’d just won yet another world title and this had to happen tonight. He looked a little sad, the minute my heart churned I turned my attention elsewhere. I hated the way I wanted to go and speak to him, it wasn’t right. Max needed to end the torment Kelly was probably feeling and sort out their god damn mortgage issue.

Desperate to avoid any form of drama, I escaped to go spend some time with Carlos and the Ferrari team for a while. I looked like a little backstabber, playfully sticking my fingers up at people from RB. I’d fully danced my feet off, and I was exhausted from all the day drinking combined with the heat at Monza.

After saying bye to a bunch of people, I slipped outside, bagging a cigarette off somebody as I stumbled to an empty table, booking an Uber.

“12 minutes? Ugh.” I muttered to myself, quite literally desperate to throw myself in bed. My ankles were desperately hurting where I’d grown uneasy in my heels, and it was beginning to radiate up to my shins. I lit the cigarette and began puffing on the stick that I normally wouldn’t smoke sober.

“I didn’t know you smoke?” My heart skipped a beat as I dropped the freshly lit cigarette into a puddle next to the chair. “I don’t anymore.” I cleared my throat, glancing up to Max quickly. Where had he come from?

“Don’t tell Geri or my dad.” I commented as he let out a soft chuckle. “I won’t.”

“Thanks… what’re you doing out here?”

“Leaving.” He shrugged, sitting across from me. “Oh, me too. You can get in my Uber if you want.” I offered.

“Yeah please, I’ll pay. I gotta go and… find Kelly.” He awkwardly spoke as I glimpsed away at the mention of her name.

“No, you don’t have to pay.” I ignored the last part of his sentence, shaking my head firmly. “I do.” Max firmed. “I don’t mind Max, he’s 10 minutes away, anyway.” I looked back down to my phone as he nodded. “I’ll split share.” He offered, reaching over to tap my phone onto his contact to share the cost. “Okay.” I shyly spoke watching him slide my phone back to me.

“You ok?” He then questioned as I glimpsed back up. “Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, running his hand through his slightly messy hair. He had stubble growing in areas that made him look extra manly, and I had to pinch my bare thigh to focus on what he was saying.

“Not exactly the best night.” Max awkwardly chuckled as I began picking at the wood on the table, thinking carefully about my words for a good few seconds. “You should tell her, Max.” I boldly said. I felt him shift uncomfortably, when I looked up he was too staring at the table. I assumed he knew what I was talking about. “I know.” He chewed on the inside of his cheeks.

“I didn’t think you’d remember..” he then added on as I let out an awkward laugh. “I didn’t think you would. You’re rich enough, just pay off the mortgage and then that’s out of the way.” “I was talking to my accountant about it.” He rubbed his face. “That’s why she was upset.”

“Oh.” I commented, my eyes roaming around any part of the smoking area, as long as I didn’t make eye contact with him, it was fine.

“Yeah.” Awkward, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip, probably taking off half the lipgloss I’d just applied. “Awkward.” I blurted out, earning a laugh from Max as we caught each others eyes again.

“You don’t have a filter do you?” I felt my cheeks warm desperately as I tried not to smile. “I mean- just not after a few drinks.”

“It’s funny, Leni.” He giggled as I took a sharp breath, “it gets me in trouble sometimes.” I shrugged. We made small talk back and fourth for the next ten minutes before climbing in the Uber together, it was safe to say neither of us was as drunk as we were that night on the beach, we actually had some restraint about us.

“I forgot to take my brother to his tutor today!” I spoke up, turning to face him. Max’s head was rested back, lolling to look at me with a soft gaze.

“How? Why does he have a tutor on a Sunday?” He spluttered out a laugh.

“You tell me. My dad was speaking to me and I forgot to listen- took Monty up to the paddock, he knocked himself out on Gelato, the same way I did the free champagne, and I just… forgot.” “Oh, Leni.” Max laughed, reaching over to slightly touch my hand through his amusement. I spared a quick glance down to his hand, it was inching closer to my own, nudging against it with every bump of movement in the car.

“It was stupid.” I muttered on a sharp intake of breath. Max looked back to me, smiling, I shyly caught his eye, feeling his fingers graze over mine to hold onto my hand. He was smiling, glancing down to our hands and I couldn’t process the butterflies he gave me. The way my heart set off racing, how I felt like I couldn’t speak. What on earth was happening right now?

What followed was a terrible guilt. “Max.” I exhaled, softly parting out hands. I didn’t know what that was, or how it happened so quickly, of course it wasn’t a kiss, but the movement made me truly question if Max and I were actually just friends? Max straightened in his seat, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. I trapped both my hands between my knees. I didn’t quite know what to say, I glanced out of the window, pursing my lips slightly. “You need to tell her.”

[fayeforrosie]

Don't Make a Sound

Karaoke Nights Pt 2

Yunjin X Fem! Reader

Yunjin takes you to her dorm after finding herself having a lot more fun than she should've with you, and you know the night ahead will be one to remember

Read Karaoke Nights Pt 1 here

Warnings- Swearing, use of cannabis, sexual themes, choking, literally just pure smut

Word Count- 3.8k

There was a comfortable silence surrounding the Lesserafim dorms, all members sleeping peacefully in their separate rooms, lights dimmed low and the air conditioning being the only noise heard in all.

Chaewon had texted Yunjin asking of her whereabouts, and after getting a sincere responds, and her safety guaranteed, Chaewon allowed herself to get the sleep she needed, dismissing the fact that she could slightly hear the sound of faint laughter coming from the front door, thinking it was just Yunjin being obnoxious again.

You stumbled against the front door, Yunjin's hand wrapped over your mouth in attempt to contain your laughter as she fumbled with her keys. Just as she finally unlocked the door, before she could open it the idol looked down at you.

"You better be quiet when we walk in, got it?" She demanded in a stern yet almost unserious tone, and you found it a bit arousing.

"Yes master", you said sarcastically, earning an almost deafening laugh from Yunjin before she threw her hand to her mouth and disguised herself.

"You really are something", the girl mutters before slowly creaking the door ajar.

The two of you begin to tip-toe in, your hand in Yunjin's while she leads the way to her private room. You hear a floorboard creak bellow you, and the two of you stop like a deer in headlights, scared that it might have woken somebody up, but after a few seconds of stillness, you continue.

Finally Yunjin slowly pushes her own door open, holding it for you as you lead the way in.

Yunjin's dorm was different from what you expected. It might have been a stupid assumption, but you thought that maybe all idols would have a cute little room with adorable little princess posters, stuffed animals decorating their bed with fairy lights wrapped around the headboard. You were wrong, however, because Yunjin's room was nothing like you would think it would be.

She firstly had various records against her gray walls, different sizes in different areas, and additionally, she had a few posters of some music artists you could recognize. Nonetheless, a few things catching your attentions was the immense amount of clothes and items pilled onto her floor, almost too crowded for you to even walk, and you noticed an ashtray beside her bed in the shape of what seemed to be Michael Scott, which you thought was funny. The idol had a tapestry that was most likely an unserious thing, as it had Bertram from Jeese with a pride flag on his left cheek on it, and that was probably your favorite accessory here.

"I like the tapestry", you commented, and Yunjin came from behind you, her left hand rested atop of your butt with her head leaning on your shoulder. She was still a little high, so Yunjin had no problem being so touchy with you, and anyway, you seemed to enjoy it just as much as she did.

"Thanks", she smirked, her head tilted as you felt her teeth up against your neck.

You were on the verge of responding to her gratitude, however your breath instantly hitched when Yunjins lips began to move against the skin on your neck. Her lips were the softest pair you have ever had graze your body, the texture not far from what you would imagine a cloud to be.

"I'm obsessed with your body", Yunjin expresses, her hands complementing her remark as she slides them across your waist. You lean your head back on her shoulder, giving the idol free access to the entirety of your neck, and Yunjin doesn't hesitate to take advantage of what she is given, her tongue sliding across the bottom of your neck before her lips connect to your skin, already forming a hickey.

"Have you ever been fucked by a woman before", Yunjin questions, her hands still wandering free.

You shake your head, because although you have had a few sexual encounters with woman, you wouldn't exactly label them as getting fucked, more just a quick thing where a girl would go down on you in the bathroom of some party, or something like that.

"Good."

Yunjin lets go of your body and pushes you towards the bed, and you stumble to lay on your back, quickly smiling when you see the idol crawl over to you. Once level with your face, the American attaches her lips onto yours, moaning at how much she missed this feeling already.

Yunjin wastes no time in sliding her tongue into your mouth, her left hand beginning to make its way towards your neck, slowly wrapping around it, as if she was testing the waters, seeing how you would react. When she squeezes tighter, eliciting a moan from you, she knows she can be rough.

"Are you still high?" Yunjin asks you, her lips now painting a portrait on your jawline.

"A little, but I know what I'm doing", you respond.

"Good, because I'm starting to sober up, and I just want to make sure this is what you want."

Your hand rubs the back of her neck, your other squeezing her waist to ground yourself.

"I want this more than anything Yunjin", you lean slightly down, striving to reach the idol's lips, and Yunjin comes to notice this, tilting her head and connecting her lips to yours earnestly, tongue already equipped to explore your mouth.

"I want to eat your pussy so bad", Yunjin claims between kisses breathlessly, "your lips already taste like heaven", she moves her hand down to your clothed folds, rubbing against them subtly, "I wonder how you taste here."

You can't help but open your mouth, a hushed moan easily slipping off your tongue before you can hold it back, and it tickles the back of Yunjin's neck.

"Yunjin", your hands, while they previously were rubbing the back of her neck, are now clawing, in desperate need for her to do something to your body, anything.

"What baby, tell me."

You don't know if your senses are still fuzzy from the weed that you only imagined her calling you that, but it still wakes the butterflies inside your stomach once again.

"Please", you frantically beg, voice at a whisper, careful to not wake her members.

Yunjin doesn't like how you aren't expressing yourself, so she takes her hand away from your pants and places it against your cheek, forcing you to look at her.

Her thumb rubs along your bottom lip, and you open your mouth like you had done in the booth before, but the idol only laughs at you and pushes your face to look into an opposite direction, leaning to whisper in your ear.

"You're so quick to open that perfect mouth of yours for me aren't you", she plants a kiss on the shell of your ear, and your hand comes up to your mouth to block the sounds practically begging to come out.

"You want me so bad, don't you?"

You nod, hand still covering your mouth, and Yunjin despises that, so she grabs your jaw and forces you to look at her again, gripping a little harsher than intended.

"I'm not going to fuck your stupid little cunt until you answer me", Yunjin remarks sternly, eyebrows furrowed as if she was seriously mad, and in your perspective, you would think she was indeed upset.

"Yes Yunj-"

"Call me Jen", Yunjin cuts you off, her hold on your jaw loosening slightly. Being called Jen, a nickname she is referred to by only her closest of friends, was something she always wanted to be called by her romantic partner, and she doesn't know why she requested for you to do so, but it could be a thought for another time.

"O-ok... Jen", your eyes are trained on her, and while you are moderately intimidated, and a bit turned on by her glare, you decide to let the situation take over your body, so you leave all your nerves behind and give the woman on top of you what she wants.

"I want you to crawl to the bottom of the bed, get down in front of my pussy, and eat me out", you demand assertively, your gaze holding hers, as if the two of you were in a game, the loser being the one who broke off the stare in an act of intimidation.

"There you go", Yunjin uses her thumb on your bottom lip to open your mouth again, but you refuse to act further, afraid she might pull away, however your eyes broaden as you see her subsequently spit into your mouth, tasting her very own saliva on the base of your tongue, and she closes your mouth once again with a push under your chin.

"I guess you do know how to use that fucking mouth", she lightly taps your cheek before making her way to the middle of your thighs, hovering over your zipper of your pants.

She grasps onto the button, undoing the clasp before sliding down the zipper underneath. She slowly grabs onto the top of your pants, steadily bringing them down, taking her sweet time as a way to tease you, possibly for taking so long to answer her, or for her own foreplay pleasure, and once your pants reach your knees, you take it upon yourself to kick them off.

Once your pants are ridden to the opposite side on the room, Yunjin leans down to face the center of your underwear, hurriedly sliding those off, antithetical to how she was with your pants, and once the idol catches sight of what's in front of her, Yunjin practically drools.

"So fucking beautiful", Yunjin professes, her middle finger tracing across your folds, collecting a trail of your wetness before she places the same finger into her mouth, moaning at the taste, and you twitch from the sudden contact.

After getting a taste of you on her finger, Yunjin immediately knew she needed more, so without wasting a second, Yunjin pulled your legs under her shoulder and dove her head straight into your aching cunt. She closed her eyes, imagining the taste as something creating by the Gods from above, as if she was tasting the sweet nectar of an angel, and quite frankly, she was.

"God", Yunjin mumbled before attaching her lips to your clit, flicking her tongue across speedily in a way that made you audibly moan, forgetting about the circumstances, and you instantly brought a hand up to cover your mouth, your opposite one tangled in Yunjin's hair.

The way Yunjin's tongue jerked skillfully across your swollen clit, her fingers digging into your waste as her lips sucked harshly over were her tongue would brush, sent you into heaven. Your grip on her hair tightened and your head flew back, now faced with her white ceiling, still not sober enough to be able to tell the distance in which it had with your head, but the way Yunjin was eating your pussy so well, you might as well be seeing stars rather than a plane white wall.

"Fuck Jen, it feels so good", you moan silently as you grip the sheets below you with your right hand.

You begin to grind into Yunjin's face, hips rolling up in a middling pace, and with how good you taste, and how much of your cunt is smothered over Yunjin's mouth, the idol suddenly gets the urge to have more. To have more of you. To have more of your pussy. She can't just have her head in between your legs, she needs to have you on her.

When Yunjin pulls away, you moan at the discomfort of no longer having the warmth of her mouth, and you are about to complain but by the speed in which Yunjin was changing her position, you got the idea that she was planning something.

Yunjin's back collides with the mattress, now laying across from you.

"Come here", Yunjin asserts, and you lift yourself up with your elbow, an impatient Yunjin waiting for you to get on with it, and when you begin to wrap your leg to straddle the idol, she lets her restlessness get the best of her and pulls you harshly onto her, grabbing your waste to steady you.

You lean down and collide your lips with hers, mouth open as her tongue instantly enters, her hand finding itself comfortable on your neck.

"Sit on my face", Yunjin breathlessly whispers in your ear, laying a kiss on your cheek before you obey her words, getting off your knees and shuffling over to her face, now hovering her.

Yunjin looks up to face you, feeling a pool of wetness in her own cunt arise when she sees how you look above her, your pussy practically already dripping onto her lips.

The idol wraps her arms around your thighs and pulls you down eagerly, her tongue darting out and inserting itself into your hole, her lips anxiously sucking.

"God Jen, fuck!" You place one hand on her head while the other steadies your body by holding onto the adjacent head board. You go back to grinding on her mouth, this time you speedily moved your hips in order to chase your inevitable high.

"Yes god baby", your eyes are still trained on the ceiling, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer, "I'm gonna cum Jen."

Hearing this, Yunjin works her tongue faster, her right hand slipping down to her own pussy as she rubs her clit to the sounds of your impatient moans, feeling that she is going to cum with you as well.

You dig your teeth into your hand, a muffled moan screeching off your tongue as you finally reach your high. You move your hips rapidly, riding out your orgasm, unknowingly assisting Yunjin in her attempt to finish, her fingers rubbing hastily across her clit, her own moan enveloped by your cunt.

"Fuck Jen that felt so good", you comment, not before Yunjin laps up every last drop of liquid that escaped you.

You now lay beside her, chest rising and falling while you tried to catch your breath. Your high felt so good, it might have sobered you up to the point where you could easily speak for yourself and act upon whatever you wished.

"Stay here", Yunjin mutters, planting a kiss on your lips and getting up from the bed.

"I don't think I have anywhere to go", you laugh to yourself, however you don't hear anything from Yunjin, that is until your ears perk at the sound of a draw opening, and seconds later the bed dips with Yunjins body.

"Sit up", the idol says, and that's when you notice what was attached to her hips; a excessively sizeable strap.

Yunjin adjusts herself so she is now behind you, her hands enfolding your waist, and you feel her bare chest up against the skin of your back. You didn't even notice she took her shirt off, so you sneakily turn your head in the slightest to catch a glimpse of her breasts, and when your little mission is complete, you turn back around in satisfaction.

"What was that?" Yunjin huffs a giggle out, lightening the mood, however her hands failing to support her tone when they slide down to your distended pussy, rubbing through your slit as if she was preparing you for what's to come.

"I didn't realize you took off your shirt", you look back to the girl, and she smiles when she sees your face, kissing your lips swiftly, "I just wanted to see what they looked like."

Yunjin allows her head to fall on your shoulder, laughing at how cute you were.

"I want to see yours as well", Yunjin follows, and then unclasps your bra and rids it to the side, now able to admire your full body. She sighs at how perfect your breasts looked, her hands coming up to squeeze and trace along the curves.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met", Yunjin complements her words with small kisses scattered across your neck and shoulder.

"Kiss me."

The idol wastes no time in fulfilling your demand, her lips attaching themselves to yours like second nature, sliding together like puzzle pieces.

In the midst of your make out session, Yunjin removes her hand from your waste, bringing it to her strap and aligning it with your entrance.

"Are you ready?" Yunjin whispers, her forehead against yours.

"Please."

Yunjin's hand slides over your mouth, covering it as she enters your pussy, the wetness assisting how easy it was for her to slide in. It takes you a while to adjust, needing a few seconds after she fully bottoms out, and you bite onto her hand, your opposite arm engulfing the back of her head.

"God so good", you moan.

After knowing you were in a comfortable place, Yunjin moves her hips slowly, pumping into your entrance with ease. It's only a minute later that Yunjins begins to move at a faster paste, her hand still over your mouth, knowing you would scream aloud without the help of her.

"Fuck Y/n", Yunjin bites your shoulder, her free hand moving to rub against your piercing clit, "you're pussy feels so good."

How Yunjin whispers into the back of your ear makes the little hairs scattered across your body rise, goosebumps forming on your skin effortlessly, and with how fast Yunjin was going now, you found it hard to conceal your moans, and even with her hand covering your mouth, your noises began to get more and more audible.

"You better be fucking quiet", Yunjin mutters, "wouldn't want any of the members coming in here and seeing such a slut bounce on my cock."

Her dirty talk does no help in keeping you quiet, and Yunjin knows this, but does nothing to help, teasing you to your breaking point.

"You like this huh?" Yunjin spits down onto your breast, spreading her saliva across and squeezing your hardened nipple.

"You like being treated like a fucking whore", the rubbing of Yunjins fingers on your clit intensifies, "you better keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut before someone catches you."

Your head flies backwards onto her neck and you scream her name into the girls hand, clawing at her neck behind you as you bounce mercilessly on her dick.

"Now baby...", Yunjin slows her pace down, "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth, and I'm going to fuck your tiny little cunt until your legs are shaking on my bed, and I swear to fucking god if you so much as even make a noise, I'm going to shove this cock down your throat so you can't make them anymore. Got it?"

You swear you could cum just off of what the woman behind you said, your cunt already tightening around her cock, and all you can do is allow a tear to slip from your eye and nod your head.

Just then, Yunjin removes her hand from your mouth, placing it below your chin.

"Spit", she declares, and you do just that, biting your lip to hold in your moan when Yunjin uses your own saliva to rub your clit rapidly.

Subsequently, the idol pushes you down so you are on all fours, and you feel too weak that you can barely even hold yourself up from your shoulders.

Yunjin doesn't stop pounding into you from the back, her hand colliding against your ass too many times for you to count, and you find it a bit hypocritical that she was making an immense amount of noise above you, all the while demanding you mustn't mutter a single word while she fucked you this hard.

Your head is deep into the sheets, tears at the brim of your eyes once again and you find it insanely hard to not let out any noises.

"I'm close", you whisper, just loud enough for Yunjin to hear and pick up her pace.

You can't take it anymore when the girl grabs your hair and pulls it back, finding everything all too arousing to handle.

"Nothing to hide your moans anymore", Yunjin smirks, knowing well of what she's doing.

"I'm going to make you cum on this cock and you're gonna stay fucking silent."

One last pound into your G-spot sends you into complete and utter abyss, and you open your mouth to release a prolonged round of moans imploring to escape, but you think back to what Yunjin asked you to do, and you hold it in to the best of your ability, body jerking as a result of the unreleased tension. You think you hear Yunjin mutter a 'good girl' behind you, but you are too high on lust to even notice.

"Fuck", you breath, "that was so good."

-

"So have you ever fucked a fan before?" You question.

All the lights were turned off in Yunjin's room now, the two of you lay beside each other, staring up at the ceiling, high once again after smoking a newly rolled blunt.

"Yeah every night."

You look over to the idol, only to see she was already looking at your with a goofy smile, and that's when you realize she's joking, so you unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

"Believe it or not but you're my first one", she smiles.

"Wow... it's an honor."

"Oh yeah?" You can practically hear Yunjin's smirk beside you.

"Shut up, you're too cocky."

"Well", Yunjin faces you again, her head now rested securely atop of her hand, "my cockiness brought me you. If I wasn't cocky enough to make a move, maybe we wouldn't be here."

"Oh save it, I was the one who made the move", you smile and place your head on your hand like Yunjin had done, facing her.

"What? I was totally the one to do it!"

"If that's what helps you sleep at night", you laugh, earning a soft push on your chest, and when you come back, Yunjin grab your neck and softly pulls you to her, connecting her lips to yours.

"I want to see you again", the idol mumbles against you.

"Me too", you smile.

"Let's get coffee tomorrow. No drugs or anything, just us two."

You raise your eyebrows at the girl, "are you asking me on a date?"

"I'm not asking", Yunjins thumb runs across your cheek softly, "I'm telling you."

"And what if I say no?" You giggle.

"You wouldn't", the idol arrogantly cracks.

"You're right", you shake your head in defeat and Yunjin's smile brightens.

"So it's a date?" She infers, and you nod contentedly.

"It's a date."

~

Yahhhh part 2!!! The end part kind of looks rushed lol, but i hope everyone liked it:)) i almost never write smut so it was definitely something new to me, but ill work on getting better🙏🙏 I love you all thank you for your support<33

Next up... The Only One I Want Pt 5;)

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.3 (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Sera

"As I'm sure most of you are already aware, we have a problem."

Countless of angels sat, circled at a table, in a glistening, golden meeting hall.

Sera took the head of the meeting, a meeting to discuss what the future of Heaven would look like, now that sinners can be redeemed.

"Sera, the masses are panicking."

"Heaven is a disaster!"

"Have you heard what people are saying?"

"ENOUGH!" The booming echoes of Sera's voice bouncing off the walls brings the entire hall to a complete silence.

"I am aware that there is some panic. But if we allow ourselves to succumb to it as well, then there may as well be no future for Heaven. We cannot let the city fall to chaos."

"But what should we do?" Another voice calls out.

"What can we do?" Says another.

Suddenly, the small figure seated next to Sera rises.

"I'm not sure what the problem is. The point of Heaven and Hell should be for people to redeem themselves. If they made it this far, they can't be that bad, right?"

Somebody scoffs at this. "Always the purist, Emily." The smaller girl glares back, not backing down. "As leaders of Heaven, we should be doing everything we can to support people making the right choices. Even if those people have already made some wrong ones."

Sera lays a hand over Emily's. "It's not that simple, Emily, and you know that. We have to protect our people first."

"So, what? You're just going to throw the sinners out? Without even giving them a chance? We haven't even met the new sinner yet, and they put in all that hard work just to be better people, you can't just-"

"Emily, there will be no more of that. I know what we are dealing with, and it's not for you to concern yourself with. You will not speak of or go near this sinner. This meeting is to discuss what we will do to preserve Heaven, and that's all."

Emily flinches. "I can't even meet them? I thought it was about the future of Heaven? I think that should include-"

"The meeting is about what I decide it will be." Sera shoots Emily a sharp glare, and she trails off, quietly sitting back in her seat. Sera's glare softens.

"I'm only doing what's best for all of us, Emily."

"So.. you have an idea?" Another angel speaks up.

"I don't. Not yet. But I'm going to discuss with the leader of the angel army, and see what our options are."

Another angel raises their hand. "Where is Adam?"

Sera's face twists with a flash of anger before she quickly composes herself. "He was supposed to be here half an hour ago."

--

You

"You'd better start making some sense right now Adam, or I fucking swear I'll snap your other wing in half."

Adam grimaces, reaching both hands behind his back to clutch his wings. "Don't fucking touch me bitch." He snarkily replies.

"Adam. Talk!"

"Alright, alright. Can we sit at least?"

You walk him to the couch, gesturing angrily before taking a seat on the other side of the room.

"Look, there's no easy way to explain any of this. Not with you having no memory of it."

"You are such a fucking-" Adam holds a hand up, cutting you off. "Just let me finish. Please."

There's a certain sincerity you've never heard in his tone, so you nod quietly, allowing him to continue.

"There are records of the memory wipe. And I would offer to show them to you if I had them, but they're not in my posession. Sera is in charge of those."

"Sera? The one I met earlier?"

Adam nods. "So why does she have them?" He swallows. "It's considered.. highly sensitive information. And I'm not allowed to have it because they think I'd be.. biased."

"Why?"

You notice he begins to bounce his knee.

"Because of our.. history."

"What history, Adam?"

He swallows again, hard, fidgeting with the edge of the couch, knee still bouncing.

"We were.. married."

You laugh. "Okay, good one, now seriously can you explain for real this time?" Adam says nothing, looking away from you uncharacteristically.

"Adam. You can't be serious, right?"

"Ev-" He cuts off. "(Y/N). I'm not joking with you. Why the fuck would I make some stupid shit up like that?"

"Because it's what you do! You're an asshole!"

He flinches. "Fuck you, that was rude."

"Rude? You know what you are? You're derranged. That's the conclusion I've come to. There's no way any of this is fucking serious, you're a psycho, get out of my room."

"Can you just listen, please? You didn't even hear the entire-" He pleads.

"Adam, I listened, and I'm over it. Get out." You cross your arms, turning away from him.

For a moment, all is silent, and then you hear the quiet rustling of Adam standing, and the door opening and closing.

You turn, making sure he's gone. You sit on the bed, practically collapsing into a heap of nerves and sweat. You fiddle with your fingers, willing them to stop shaking.

Suddenly, there comes another knock at the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes. "GO AWAY!" You scream.

"I'm sorry, but we need to speak." You hear the soft, yet stern voice of a woman. Opening the door, you find Sera.

"I saw Adam leaving the building. Was he with you?"

You nod. "Spouting off some insane bullshit as usual. Did you need something, uh, Sera, right?"

"Right. I was hoping to have a quick word?" She raises her hand, gesturing to the room. You step aside, opening the door for her.

She elegantly glides across the room, perching in the nearest chair, hands folded across her lap.

"What was your name again?" She asks. "(Y/N)."

"A pleasure. I'm sure you're feeling very confused right now, as we all are, I'm afraid."

"I just.. don't really understand how this was happening. I died fighting angels. If anything, I shouldn't even be up here right now."

Sera purses her lips into a thin line, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "Yes, well, it would seem you've done things to redeem your soul. Something we all thought couldn't be accomplished.

I have to ask you, (Y/N). I've been told you've been here before, for a.. meeting." She pauses. "Yes, that was it. A meeting. Do you have any recollection of ever being here before?"

"Well no, but maybe that's why Adam is confused." Sera's eyes narrow. "Adam? What did he say?"

For some reason you can't explain, you feel a pit forming in your stomach. You cross your arms defensively. "Nothing too interesting, just that we'd met before."

She studies you for a moment before nodding, suddenly rising from her seat. "Yes, I'd heard the same as well. He must be the one causing the confusion." She heads for the door.

"Was that all you needed?" You inquire. "Yes, just wanted to make sure there was no unnecessary rumors flying about. Of course you've never been here before. Right?"

She pauses at the open door, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

"Right."

She smiles politely. "Good. Have a good day, (Y/N)."

--

Adam

"Are you out of your mind, sir? Sera is going to be pissed."

Lute stands in front of him, a scolding tone in her voice.

She had initially been thrown for a loop - she had no idea who (Y/N) was when she stabbed her, and after arriving back in Heaven, she and a handful of specifically selected people were briefed on who (Y/N) really is.

"You weren't supposed to tell (Y/N) anything. If she remembers who she is, it's going to cause absolute chaos throughout Heaven AND Hell. You need to-"

"Can you shut the fuck up for a minute please?" Adam waves his hand dismissively at her, turning away. "Sir. This is important! When Sera finds out, she's going to-"

BANG, BANG, BANG

Lute is cut off by a sudden pounding on the door. She opens it to find Sera, a look of rage twisting her normally graceful features.

"Adam. I assume you know why I'm here."

Adam sighs, rolling his eyes. "Because you know I talked to (Y/N). Well you can save it sister, she didn't believe me anyways."

"And what if she had? Do you know what that will do to us?"

Sera crosses the room, standing directly in front of Adam. "You need to start considering the consequences of your actions. You can't just do whatever you please all the time."

Adam turns, walking away from her. "You don't understand what it's like, Sera." He mumbles. "She deserves to know."

"She doesn't even remember you Adam! You're letting your feelings get in the way of things. If I have to replace you as leader of the angel army, I will. I won't let you bring down everything we've built here just because of your stupid crush-"

"Crush?" Adam feels a knot forming in his throat. "You don't fucking-"

Lute swoops in, grabbing Adam roughly by the shoulder. "Sir, don't."

He looks at Lute, swallowing the anger he feels bubbling up, along with any argument he had for Sera.

"Alright Sera it won't happen again. Okay?"

"No, it won't. That's why I am not allowing you near her."

Adam straightens up. "What?"

"You heard me correctly. You clearly cannot compose yourself around her, and it's turning you into a threat. You stay away, or there will be consequences.

For you, and her."

--

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests!

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

[conniesministallion]

☆☆𝓘𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉2☆☆

Warnings: Violence! (Rafe/Ward)(Rafe/JJ) Angst!

Pairing: Rafe x Black reader

This is Rafe's POVs

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

I cant believe I'm sitting here looking at this man's bald ass head again. Granted I am too but still we both look older than we are. I guess that helps with dealing to older customers. Selling this shit to kooks isn't as easy as selling to pogues. I know I shouldn't be but who the hell is gonna help me when things get hard besides her.

Sofia is eh..ya know somebody, she's help, very caring and optimistic but she still doesn't compare to her.

She however helps me figure shit out, calms me down, she's smart and understands the shit I go through. Plus, besides Barry she doesn't judge the shit I do.

Grabbing the kilo off of the small brown table in front of me. I start packaging it up for the next party we're about to throw at Topper's. He's paying too, especially after we almost got busted last time from some punk who was mad about paying for all the coke he was doing that night.

Turns out his dad is a cop,

That i've already sold to twice.

But of course I had to make an example so I beat his ass.

" Yo, the rest is in the trunk let's just sell this shit and bounce when it's over. I got shit to do, plus I have to get your girl from work." Barry says as he peeks behind the screen door.

Standing up and glaring towards him as I grab my keys, " Not my girl bro just someone I keep around."

" Ya okay country club whatever you say, I don't even treat my best piece like that."

This mf, I swear. Sofia is nothing but a smart lil girl I keep around for a good time. Honestly, it was easy. I mean she's still new to the island and she hasn't been out much. I'm just practicing being a nice person.

I bump past him and head toward the car, tossing the last kilo I had in his arms.

"Shut up and come on".

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

I'm sitting here staring at the last message I sent SIX HOURS AGO. Why the hell hasn't she texted me back. This lil girl got me messed up. I know she seen when I asked why Maybank's ass isn't blocked. Realizing I'm shaking I send her another message before I'm interrupted but a high pitch voice.

Soulmate: Stop ignoring me mama and block him. I wanna see the screen recording too.

"Why aren't you paying attention to me Rafey?" Sofia whined to me grabbing my arm and resting her cheek on my bicep.

Sofia. Sofia. Sofia.

So cute, but so very annoying and very fucking clingy. She's not the one I want to cling to me. The one I want is ignoring me on an island where she probably has a boyfriend waiting for her. Just thinking about it is pissing me the fuck off.

" I'm too busy selling Sofia, I got you when I get done. Meanwhile, you wanna line or are you just drinking tonight?"

She starts batting her little eyelashes up at me , "Just drinking but I will have a little line if you don't mine doing it for me."

I sat my phone on the white couch underneath me and grab my black card to start the line for her. I only do Y/N's lines and that's only when she's drinking. Two for one night and only on occasions cuz I'll be damned if my baby end up like how I was. I love her way too much to sit and let that shit happen but her puppy eyes are so cute and we ended up coming up to an agreement.

Two lines every three months, not every party and not every time she gets drunk. I'll know if she gets it from somewhere else but she knows better than to try that shit.

" Here Sofia, it's ready let me know when you want some more." I handed her a rolled up bill and getting up the go talk to Barry.

I already sold my portion and the rest was for the three of us to share when he gets done with his. Topper is talking to Kelce and some red haired chick I've seen around in a corner.

Making my way downstairs and into the living room I spot Barry talking to someone on Facetime while handing a baggie to some dude in a red polo setting his money in the pile on the table.

" It's all good baby, you'll be home soon right? You want me to let him know or you want to just stay with me?"

" I'll come over yours first and we can just go back to his together." The other voice on the phone sounding familiar.

Who the hell is he talking to? I know he doesn't have a girlfriend so the hell??

"Yo who's that? Are you done selling or what?" I sat on the couch next to him and start counting the money in my pocket

"It's ya bestie boo or whatever the hell girly shit she be saying." he said chuckling and handing me the phone.

" Hi baby, I miss you. Even tho you kinda trippin at the moment." Y/n says. Fuck she's so damn cute, I miss her too but why hell didn't she text me back. And why the hell did she call Barry and not me.

" Hey mama, I miss you too but why you ain't texting me back." I ask her.

"I did text you back baby and I sent your toxic ass evidence." She said rolling her eyes at me.

I'm acting shocked knowing damn well.

" I'm not toxic mama just protective and I didn't see the message yet. When you coming home?" I asked her setting the phone on the table to lean against the wad of cash.

" I'm coming back tomorrow love, have my room ready please? Or yours it really doesn't matter. Barry is staying with us by the way, we'll let you know the details later yeah?"

I sit back crossing my arms across my chest and look at Barry. " So when were you gonna tell me about this plan?" I asked him

He shrugged back and took a sip of his drink. " She wanted me to wait until she got back bro my bad."

Before I could respond I feel someone putting their face on my neck. Looking back I see Sofia. Fuck. I haven't told either of them about each other.

" Who's that Rafey your cousin or something?" She said, looking over my shoulder.

I shrug her off and before I even respond, I see Y/n's face turned up and frowning.

" Cousin, oh lord baby. Of course you got a new one while I was away. Just make sure my room is ready and I don't have to teach another one her place please baby and thank you." She said as she put her suitcase down in front of the bed.

" I gotchu mama don't worry see you tomorrow. Say bye to Barry baby." I turn the phone towards him as he waves.

She waved back and smiles hanging up the phone. Rubbing my hands down my face and handing him his phone back.

He smirks and giggles at me clearly being entertained with the situation.

" She's gonna fuck you up country club." Laughing as he threw his head back laughing.

" I'm already knowing."

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

<3 <3 <3

A/N: YAAAAAA second part kinda nervous yall lol.

[leupagus]

Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025

(and given my track record might never be done):

Sansa

"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.

They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"

Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."

"Does it give you courage?"

He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.

The dead king, now.

A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.

Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.

Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.

"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."

"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.

"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."

Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.

"But you were accused."

"By men who did not see what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."

"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"

Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"

"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."

She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"

"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.

"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."

The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.

"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.

"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.

"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."

Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."

"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.

The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.

Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.

She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.

Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.

"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."

"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.

Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.

"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."

Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."

It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"

It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.

[rottenroyalebooks]

Love Drunk - 0.1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x older sister!Harrington reader

Also includes: Steve Harrington x sister!reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N Harrington left Hawkins as soon as she turned eighteen with her boyfriend to follow her dreams of being a Rockstar. Three years later, she returns to Hawkins alone and scarred. Now, she has to repair her broken relationship with her younger brother, all while trying to prevent herself from falling for a cute metal head who plays at the Hideout, where she works.

Warnings: None.

Next ->

Driving back to Hawkins, Indiana, was the last thing I thought I would do.

I wouldn't say I liked this hellhole and got away as soon as possible. I never wanted to see the all-too-familiar roads and trees filled with bad memories.

Why did I come back here if I hated this place so much? My life fell apart underneath my feet, and I had no choice.

The drive was long and taxing, but I had a caravan from the 60s that still worked beautifully, so I didn't have to stay in any motels. I left California with a few boxes of my possessions and my black and white Saint Bernard Baxter, and we hit the open road together. It was a long trip, but eventually, I pulled into the driveway of my family home, which was pitch black.

Being late into the night, I was not surprised that the house was dark. I pulled my van into the backyard so it wouldn't be seen by anyone who drove by. I turned my van off and climbed into the back of my caravan, grabbing my travel bag and waking Baxter up so he wouldn't be sleeping outside in the cold.

I tried the back door, but it was locked, so I had to grab the spare key that was always kept underneath my mother's favorite garden gnome. I scoffed, showing the key to Baxter, who tilted his head. "See? They're predictable."

Once I unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place, I crept into the kitchen slowly, with Baxter trailing behind me and lazily trudging around. I poked my head into the garage, seeing it bare of any cars, and scoffed, "Nobody's home? They're probably away on business again." I pulled myself back into the house and closed the door.

I started thinking about my little brother Steve. He must have been nineteen, probably off at some fancy university far away from this town. Good for him.

I found my way to my old bedroom, letting Baxter in with promises of bedtime, and closed the door behind me. The room had barely been touched, though my parents were never home enough to care about what had happened. My bed was a mess, my posters were still on the walls, my desk was nearly covered in junk, my old makeup lay on the dresser, and my records were still in a box I had put together.

Sighing happily, I put my backpack on a chair and watched as Baxter jumped onto my bed, making himself as comfortable as possible. I sat on the bed next to my nightstand, which held the phone I had begged my parents to put in for me. I picked it up, hearing the dial tone and beeping as I pressed one of the few numbers I had memorized.

I pressed the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing. Finally, after a few rings, there's a male voice coming from the receiver, "I swear to god, somebody better be dead if you have the bright idea of calling me at three in the fucking morning."

I held back a laugh, "Jim! Hey, it's Y/N,"

I could almost feel his mood lighten, "Y/N? I never thought I'd hear your voice again! How've you been, kid?"

"Could be better. it could be worse. I'm back in town wondering if the pub needs a bartender."

He hummed lightly, "Luckily for you, Paul retired two weeks ago, and I've been having trouble finding decent help. You got any experience bartending?"

I smiled, thankful that he didn't push my return further, "I was a bartender for three years. I kept my nights busy."

"Perfect, you're hired. Can I go back to bed now?"

Giggling, I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me, "Yes, yes, sorry for calling so late. Goodnight, Jim." I placed the phone in the receiver and began stretching, getting myself ready to sleep.

My peace didn't last very long as my door swung open, revealing none other than my little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, welding a baseball bat in his hands. I jumped slightly and held my hands up in surrender, "Whoa, whoa! Steve?"

He stared at me, his features melting into a look of surprise, "Y/N?" He kept the bat high up in the air.

The two of us spoke in unison, "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first, twerp."

He looked at me with an exasperated expression, "I'm literally the one with the bat."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as the adrenaline died down, "I have an attack dog. Don't make me sick him on you."

He glanced behind me, looking at Baxter; smirking, he just looked back at me as he lowered the bat, "Oh yeah, he's an attack dog alright."

I looked over my shoulder and turned to look at Baxter, who laid there unbothered; passed out nearly dead to the world. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of his upper body, I would have thought he was dead.

"I could be facing an actual murder right now, and you would just be blissfully aware until you woke up to see my dead body."

Steve sighed, "N/N, what happened?"

I turned back to him, "I'm back in Hawkins. Mom and Dad don't need to know. Hopefully, I'll find a place of my own soon. Trust me, you'll barely know I'm here."

He just stared at me, his expression unreadable as he contiplated my words. He grew a lot since I last saw him. His hair was shorter back then. He was shorter. He's no longer the scrawney kid I had to protect in my senior year, when he was merely a freshman.

I probably looked different, too, but in other ways.

"I should probably get some rest, I have an early shift." He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, kid. We'll talk later,  I want to know everything I've missed." I smirked, grabbing the covers and pulling them over my legs, "Hit the lights on the way out?"

He chuckled lightly, nodding, "Yeah, goodnight, Melody." He baked out of the doorframe, flipping the lights off for me before closing the door, leaving me to stare up at the ceiling; which still had the glow in the dark stars on it.

Baxter rolled over a bit, cuddling into my side as we got comfortable in my bed.

[braisedhoney]

[SCENARIO CONTINUED FROM HERE.]

You select the second oldest of the available files. An observation log — COLONY keeps these, or so you assume. He never leaves commentary or notes to organize them. He probably just memorizes them instead. The terminal beeps beneath your fingertips, every click practically a gunshot in the quiet room. Thanks to your pass you are technically permitted to be here by the system — but you know better. There are security measures here that were not to be violated. If you are discovered, if THIS is discovered, you would likely be in trouble. The screen loads. Text fills the margins. After a moment, you realize that it is not just a file; it’s a transcript and an audio sample. There’s also a small attachment of some kind, likely an image. You play the audio.

[LOADING. . . (A short period of complete silence. Then, rustling as footsteps approach, and the familiar whir of a door. A familiar voice fades in with them.) “… I told you, it isn’t going to work.” “So you’ve said, Captain.” (The door whirs again. Locks.) “Please don’t call me that. Everyone keeps calling me that. Really I mean, I don’t even know what to do with…” (The sound of movement. Footsteps, slightly heavier but more measured than the first. The sound of something opening with a mechanical hiss — a containment unit?) (A quiet sigh. It’s barely audible.) “That… isn’t what I think. Right? Another one?” (A chuckle.) “Don’t sound so unenthusiastic. It’s terrible for morale.” “Le—“ “Just put them on, won’t you? It can’t hurt. One more trial.” “… Fine! Fine.” (The footsteps draw closer.) “Good. Now grab my hand.” (A clang, like somebody knocked into something.) “No.” “Trust me.” (Rapidly receding footsteps joined by another set.) “No!”(A loud bang, like a fist slamming against metal. The footsteps stop.) “No.” “It’ll be fine.” “You don’t know that.” “I’m right.” “This isn’t the answer. It isn’t going to — it’ll never be the answer, Leander, and I don’t even know what it — you know you can’t, right? Can’t come back? Doing this won’t let you see her agai——!“ “Captain.” (Silence.) “… shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “Prove it.” ”Leander, please.” “Grab my hand. This will work.” “…” “I swear.” (The seconds tick by. Then.) “You...” (Another chuckle. Warmer in tone.) “Didn’t I say I would do it? Didn’t I promise?” (Laughter. Loud, nearly hysterical laughter interrupts him. It’s boisterous, disruptive.) “You did! You did, you… you magnificent bastard, you really found a way to———“] The audio ends. You stare at the screen. No matter how long you look at it, the text does not continue, the audio file does not extend. All that remains is a single attachment. Frustration makes your jaw tense, but you don’t have time to waste being angry. You’re running out the clock as it is. You click it. [LOADING. . .]

And then the screen goes dark. No. Not just the screen — the whole room blacks out. Every terminal flickers off, every bulb extinguishes. For a moment, there is total, unfamiliar silence. Even the faint electric buzzing that comes with electronics is gone. You are completely alone. You turn, grasping blindly at the records pass, the imprint of the screen still on your eyes. You stumble for the door, and to your surprise the pass blinks green, the only light left in the room. It opens and you shove your way through into the hall — Only to slam into a barrier. You look around. There is no hallway. Of all times for the paths to shift… The room you are in is tiny. The door behind you closes, and there is no scanner on your side, nor a handle. It is completely featureless. There is no way to open it. You call for COLONY. There is no answer. You call for the Captain. There is no answer. You call for help. You call for help. You call. You call. you. c a l l. . . . . . . . . . [YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED.] [. . . ] [THE CAPTAIN WILL LOOK FOR YOU.] [. . .] [BUT THE CAPTAIN WILL NOT FIND YOU.] [ . . . ] [I AM SORRY.] [I AM SURE THAT MEANS LITTLE. BUT I AM.] [CURIOSITY IS NOT A TERRIBLE THING.] [BUT I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HUMANS QUITE LIKED CATS.] [. . .] [A POOR JOKE.] [I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT.] [I DOUBT IT.] [BUT I DO HOPE.]

(Scenario End. Ending: “Status Quo”.)

[mendesblurb]

Our Souls Underwater

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning ⚠️: Mostly fluff, one or two mentions of smut, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.

Word count:~2.4k

A/N: The following fic is a “friends with hidden romantic feelings” situation and it is the result of the author spending countless amount of late night hours with this one guy, where they were just two people keeping each other company while completing their own assignments and exchanging stories about life before romantic feelings emerged along the way. Oops that was kinda TMI (my bad lol), anyway do let me know your thoughts and opinions, so sorry for this story being random 🙈

//

Coming back from any long hours of interview sessions or live performances always felt strange for Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. It was an exhilarating and exhausting experience that made transitioning from a stadium full of people, sleeping in hotel rooms or tour buses and performing for millions of fans to feeling the peace and quiet of his own home always take some time for him to adjust.

His therapist had suggested that he should find something to make him unwind after long hours spent existing under a microscope and flashes of cameras capturing each and every move he makes like a hawk watching its prey.

Everyone but him has formed some routine to unwind. For example, Connor would always want to eat pizza and binge-watch some new Netflix releases, Brian and Meghan were always quick to turn themselves into a pair of bunnies by doing something frisky under the sheets, and you on the other hand, would much rather be soaking long hours under a bathtub full of warm temperature water.

“Think of it as another form of self-care or relaxation technique.”

“You have to say that you’ve done it at least once or twice. Nothing to be ashamed about if you admit that you don’t hate it that much, Mendes,” Connor added.

“Guys, please, I simply don't like the idea of feeling like a boiling asparagus stick.”

“You will not feel like a boiling vegetable.”

“You know, Mrs. I cannot function without baths. I really can't picture myself in a bathtub full of warm water, especially regarding relaxation purposes.”

“Aww, look, someone is turning into Mr. Grumpy,” You said, a sly smile creeping onto your lips, “You know what can help you feel better?”

“Y/n,” he warned, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence by implying that the only thing that can cure me is a bath, I swear to G—.”

“Oh, enough with the weird bullshit reasons, Mendes!” Connor interrupted from the living room, “I’d bet you don’t want to admit to us that you feel scared with the idea of soaking long hours in the warm water, huh?”

You and Connor found yourselves letting out a huge laugh at the thought of him avoiding these baths because he feels scared of the water like a kitten, “I am not a baby,” Was the only thing Shawn said, accompanied by an annoyed eye roll.

“Hear that? Yeah, that’s the voice of somebody who needs nothing more than a relaxing bath to unwind his entire day,” you said in a baby voice, mocking the singer.

“Okay, perhaps I’ll make an exception. If ever I am in a bathtub, it will only be because my girl will be joining me,” He said with a charming smile, secretly loving how the way your face would immediately react to his statements or flirtatious remarks with a fluster written and visible all across your face.

It was as if one, two, or three seconds snapped like the hand of Big Ben or the one at the Grand Central station clock that never comes late, as you always found yourself taking a few short moments to digest each and every word and sentence coming from him and try to reply to something, anything but only for it to come out as a stutter.

“Would you look at that? Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new fast-track record. Only one sentence and I have the girl lost for words. I wonder where Mrs. Independent, I need no man exterior you claim to have?” Shawn said, throwing you a wink, playfully swiping his thumb across your cheek, and closing the distance between, getting dangerously close to where you were standing.

“Oh, shut up, Mendes!” You composed yourself and moved his hand away, “You and I both know I would rather do a whole list of other things than get in that tub with you.”

You said your last sentence so sarcastically, casually as such of every other interaction you exchanged together before grabbing your favourite ice cream out of the freezer and heading to your room.

The thing that some, if not most, people still cannot wrap their heads around is the fact that It’s been the definition of years, maybe even ever, since you both fully understood the true meaning of friendships that you and Shawn have been friends.

The best of friends that could go as far as the ability to exchange millions of sarcastic sentences, have never-ending conversations about nothing and everything that ranges from philosophical things to something as far as topics about the actual difference between sex for male compared to females for hours on end if time wasn’t a constraint, secretly craving the company from the other person whenever apart, exchange of daily text messages across multiple social media platforms, then having the once every blue moon bickering like an old married couple over the stupidest stuff according to your close group of friends, and all that with an undeniable sexual tension visible for anyone to question the true nature of your relationship and a huge dash of endless back-and-forth flirtatious acts or words exchanged.

It was apparent to perhaps even the whole world that for the two of you to had the very ability to share a friendship like that, and the miracle for two people to establish this type of bond was rather beautiful and bizarre yet strange at the same time. It came as no surprise that when confronted individually, none of you dared to make any vast gestures that make romantic feelings evoke even more than they already have, as both your heads are imprinted with the belief of the other not feeling the same way, or hate the idea of ruining this friendship over the possibility of one person wanting to confess their true feelings suppressed over the lifelong friendship and establishing something romantically together.

It was then a couple of weeks later when you all found yourselves in the same spot, just coming back from Shawn’s live perfomance over a few cities. But this time, it was all packed into a tight schedule that made the singer and the entire crew exhausted to the bone. It was difficult for Shawn, as it seemed like he was pulled into different directions simultaneously with no time to catch his breath. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since the last show wrapped up, and everyone gave him some much-needed personal space during the flight back. Exhaustion was clinging deep into his body and flooding his mind to the point where he just wanted to shut his brain off and forget about everything; so much that he found himself walking past everyone and heading straight to his room without thinking twice.

You knew how exhausted he must’ve felt, so before you reached his bedroom, you gently grabbed his arm, “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, please,” He said.

“I just wanted to tell you that I am aware that the past couple of days were nothing but a hectic blur, so I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk about anything or just sit silently. I’m always here for you, no matter the time or moment you need me.”

Those were the last few words you said before letting his hand go, once again giving him the space he needed, and you knew that exhaustion had already taken over his body as soon as he lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

You didn’t know that even a few short hours later, he was still tossing and turning under the sheets, unable to shut his eyes or mind off and get some much-needed rest, although his mind and body felt exhausted.

His head turned around and looked at the clock, 23:01 it displayed. For a while, he sat on his bed, checking his phone for updates about anything before exiting the room to distract his mind. The corridor was dark, with only one light source coming from your bedroom door. The singer paced a couple of times outside your door, debating whether he should knock but thinking whether your nocturnal companion was still keeping you awake or had you already fallen asleep, exhaustion taking over before you could gain the energy to turn off the lights.

However, before thinking further, he found his hand knocking on the door. To his surprise, a light knock was enough to open the door, “Y/n? Are you awake?” His voice lowers into a whisper while peeking his head into your room, only for his gaze to fall into an empty bed. You were nowhere to be found until he heard the light sound of your Spotify playlist coming from the bathroom. You were there, and he knew that his next steps were risky or, more accurately, invading your personal space. But part of him didn’t care. Selfishly, he just desperately could really use your company.

And so he took a couple of steps until he was at the bathroom door, with each step he could hear his own heart beating faster and the sounds of the faucet as it hit the bathtub and your favourite singers on the speaker only made him even more nervous, second-guessing his decision.

“Shawn?” You say from behind the cracked door.

“Um, yeah, it’s me. How did you know?” He responded nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as his mind was still second-guessing and debating whether his decision was actually a good idea.

“Who else has a nocturnal side that they cannot kill?” You said, trying to hold back your laughter.

“You know me so well.”

“You can come in if you want, or it’s okay too if you feel more comfortable, we can just keep talking through the door.”

The singer finally decided to interact with you appropriately as he found himself opening the bathroom door and stepping inside. The sight of you greeted him in the tub. The room was illuminated with the soft glow of your favourite candles, the scent of essential oils that were for therapeutic purposes, white puffy bubbles all across the tub of water, and the sound of your favourite playlist.

Tonight was the first time he truly ever took the time to notice it.

“Sorry, I just- well, I know this is- I wanted to - I don’t know who else -” he was stumbling, couldn’t form the proper set of sentences at the mere sight of you. You looked beautiful yet angelic. It was apparent to him that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, but right now, even as your hair wasn’t done, or any makeup didn’t cover your face, or you weren’t wearing any dresses that perfectly hugged around your body; that he found himself more mesmerised by how your existence was enough to make him feel all sorts of comfort that no therapy sessions, lavish parties or meditation could genuinely give him.

“It’s okay. You know we don’t have to talk,” You say, “Care to join me?”

It felt like gravity was pushing him to decide instead of his brain controlling his movements as he already found himself stripping out of his clothes. Meanwhile, you found yourself with your head facing the wall, feeling sudden shyness at the sight of your opposite-gender friend removing all his clothing from head to toe in front of you.

“You don’t have to look away, you know. I bet it’s not your first time encountering the male anatomy, and I am getting inside the water with you.”

“I know, but this- this isn’t like that,” You said, still choosing to look away, “We are not doing anything to satisfy a pang of hunger. This is something else. I don’t want to ruin this moment by looking into it as if it is something that-“

“Yeah, just something that should be fulfilled at a more appropriate time,” Was all your friend could reply before carefully stepping into the tub, trying to keep his balance. Once he settled up, he scooted closer to your side, not too close to minimise any possible distance, but enough for the two of you to be situated in front of each other.

As he sinks deeper into the lukewarm water, you are glad to see how a deep sigh of relief escapes his lips, with a tired gaze his eyes rolling from all the exhaustion, his body relaxing, shoulders casually leaning into the walls of the tub, and sight of feeling at ease, comfort, and gush of smile was written all across his face.

“Is it the bubbles that finally persuaded you?”

“Perhaps that or maybe the whole idea that I actually feel more relaxed in a way I never thought possible and not feel like an actual boiling vegetable stick is finally winning me over,” he said, and you both laughed at that.

Then, moments later, as the conversations drift to more illogical ones and the laughters died down, you again faced him, “I’m sorry, I can only offer my companion.”

“Are you kidding me?” He smiled, “This is the best thing that anyone has ever done for me all year long.”

More minutes passed by, as none of you seem to remember how long you two lay there. But, when the two of you started to yawn more and more, you decided to get out of the water, “Mendes, face the wall. I need some privacy while I get out of here.”

“You’re telling me you still need privacy? I thought we moved past that. Y/n, we have been naked in here the whole time!” He shook his head and laughed as he turned to the wall, ears perking up to the sounds of water gently splashing as you got out of the tub, and his eyes could not help shoot you a side-eye glance through the mirror.

“Prying eyes,” You said with a smile as your eyes locked through the mirror, wrapping the towel on your body, “You can look now.”

“Pass me one of the towels, too?” he said as he stood up from the tub. Your eyes were wide open at the sight of him standing tall in nothing but his birthday suit. You could hear your heartbeat increasing and butterflies fluttering across your stomach before your hands moved quickly to pass him the towel and turned to face the door, clearly feeling the sudden shyness again at the current situation you found yourself in, “Prying eyes,” Was all he said back, with a signature boyish grin and million dollar smile that you knew was already written all over his lips.

“This was actually fun, we should do it again,” He said, pressing his lips to your temple before hands gathering his clothes and walking out of the room.

What have both of you started?

//

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Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

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Story Code: 160923107

[brights-place]

hii!! Can i request general headcanons with Laughing Jack and Candy Pop? (Creepypasta) thank you <33

Never ever safe when with us!

Pairings: Laughing Jack, and Candy Pop

A/N: OMG OMG THANK YOU I LOVE THOSE TWO SO MUCHHHH one of my top 3 (*´ー｀*)

Laughing Jack

- He allows Sally to paint his claws sometimes but gets rid of them before a kill.

- He tries to act sweet with the creepypasta kids but due to his experience with Issac he seems to be creepy. Took the kids awhile to try get to know him more.

- Thrives on pranks

- Bipolar

- gets into some arguments with Kageko on who’s the better dressed in Black and white…

- Jill and ChessMaster always glance at eachother before recording the scene.

- He likes to watch Some creepypasta sleep since He dosen’t need to He finds it weird.

- When you came to the mansion he started to poke you whenever you where sleeping

- LJ takes particular interest to befriend most of the children of the slender mansion trying his best but when it comes to his victims it’s a whole diffrent story.

- like to talk about his victims and how he kills them.

- Very Childish

- He dosen’t understand emotions that well.

- When he’s angered He’s either very creepy or he flips onto the floor and throws a tantrum like a child due to the fact he had been surrounded by kids his whole existence

- These temper tantrums is how he thinks how people should be upset Lora do people get hurt though.

- about 7’3-8’0 Mans Lanky

- Hates being left alone, forgotten or ignored he would throw a huge fit.

- Slender created a rule to never touch the music box until it changes spots.

- LJ use to find it comfortable to be in the box at first when entering the mansion and rarely would come out unless he went out to do his little Adventures.

- Likes to dress up

- He smacks the shit out of anybody who comments on why he wore a dress around the place.

- “You Ugly Brat I look fashionable”

- He dosen’t swear much he uses words such as ‘Butt hole’ and ‘Poop Brain’ as insults unless he’s really pissed then he’s going to start cussing like there’s no tomorrow.

- Enjoy Listening to Classics music or HyperPop music he’s open to any.

- Very sharp teeth

- He has poisoned sweets in his left pocket and Non-poisoned in his right

- He dosen’t know his lefts and rights so sometimes he gives Somebody a poisoned one by accident.

- Doctor smiley hates LJ for the amount of times he gave Toby, Sally, and Zero poisoned candy by accident.

- purposely trips over Candypop once for stealing his sweets.

- Likes to mimic the personality of his new “owners” (aka his victims)

- Very stretchable and can jump super high

- He Likes to Hum to pop goes the weasel multiple times

- You Can Hear him from a mile away because of his humming of the song.

Candy Pop

- Best friends with Nathan the Nobody

- Gossiping King He knows everything going on.

- Likes to torment his victims

- He’s an Incubus, once a genyr before possessed by Night Terrors

- Man’s in his 6000’s

- Loves pranks like LJ but takes them very far

- He Likes to make bets with his sister and Nathan

- Him and Candy Cane like to switch up their outfits sometimes giving each-other little tips.

- Nightmares Whenever

- Cocky Asshole

- Can’t be in the human world physically for a very long time

- Loves every genre of music

- He has 3000 kids yet He dosen’t Care for them though (MF HAS CHILDREN 😭)

- Loves to fuck around with Night Terror

- Loves draining the energy and torturing his victims

- Most do his victims have mental illnesses cause he finds it funny to see their reactions and thinks it’s much easier to toy with them.

- master manipulator

- doesn’t kill the victims himself drives them off the edge if you know what I mean

- Likes to try different styles of clown makeup but always sticks to his usual look

- Has step by step guide for his hair

- he is kind of similar to Slender-man and puppeteer though if he gets enough energy to use in this reality it will bring chaos.

- uses his hammer when he REALLY needs it or deems it Useful for his situation

- found a child too annoying he claimed that “The child had something on him I had to smack it with something!”

- His laughs are psychotic

- Friends with laughing Jack due to the fact both of them could of been created by the same guardian.

- Demi-Boy

- Likes to hangout with Jason sometimes.

- gets pissed very easily

- Can Kill you in dreams or In real life You are not safe.

- He Acts like your bestfriend before it gets too much for you to drive you into madness.

- He pierced his ears.

- On his activities He dosen’t have allies nor help he works alone.

- His candy is filled with Melatonin so his victims sleep quicker

- When you arrived in the mansion he tried to kill you in your sleep… you guys made bracelets in your dream instead.

- Damages anything in his path whenever he is angered

- Large mood swings

- Night Terror always has some problems and he likes to move night terror somewhere else just to Piss him off which always works.

- People in the mansion where informed to never be vulnerable around Candypop.

- dosen’t like to admit that he is amazing at cooking and sewing.

- likes to show off his tricks

- The bells on his collar are loud along with the bells on his wrists and shoes but he can quiet them down in a second when he wants to.

- Get Jump-scared whenever he is around cause he will pop up anywhere anytime

[slavicviking]

Long Odds (Steddie)

“Steve. My buddy. My pal.”

“No.”

Dustin purses his lips, tugging harder on the plastic wire of the phone. The school courtyard behind him is buzzing with life, warm and welcoming - finally - after a particularly harsh winter, for Indiana standards at least. A group of freshmen he faintly recognizes from one of his classes walks by, shrieking and laughing at a severely unfunny joke. He’s been subjected to Robin’s atrocious puns often enough to say so with confidence. He winces.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he informs Steve because, well, rude.

“I’m guessing one of you annoying shrimps need a favor,” the phone responds in a bored monotone “and I don’t know if you know, but I actually have a life outside of babysitting you all.”

“Steve, watching The Breakfast Club for the fourth time this month is not having a life.” An offended ‘dude’ from the other side of the line feels like a warning sign. He realizes he only has one chance to do it right. If Steve hangs up now, he’s done for.

“Have I ever told you you’re my best friend?” Dustin tries instead.

“Jesus Christ-”

Dustin taps his finger on the booth. Shit. He’s hanging on by a thread, he can feel it.

“Look, this is an emergency, okay? I need you to play D&D with us tonight! Lucas can’t come and we need someone to fill in his spot, that’s, like, life or death, Steve.” After a breath, he adds. “Pretty please.”

A pause.

“Henderson, that’s the least life or death thing I’ve heard in a while.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, sucking in a heavy sigh. It’s progress, though, he can feel the scale tipping in his favor ever so slightly. He knows Steve.

“You haven’t seen Eddie when we asked to reschedule,” he pleads, full-well knowing the super senior in question hasn’t yet been informed of their predicament. It’s better this way, Dustin tells himself. Eddie will be miffed they haven’t told him, sure, but if they find a replacement, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? “He looked like that one time when we were sleeping in the woods and all our stuff was stolen and then-”

 “Wait, hold on, somebody robbed you?” Steve asks, muffled by how he, no-doubt, mashed the phone closer to his face to hear better. At least Dustin is sure he’s paying attention now. “And why the hell were you in the woods at night with this Eddie in the first place? Isn’t being chased by, uh, by dogs enough for you?”

“During a campaign, Steve,” Dustin quickly interjects. “It was part of the storyline. We weren’t actually in the woods.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” the voice on the other side echoes, this time from some distance away and there’s shuffling that indicates Steve running his hand through his mop of hair,probably in order to calm himself. Dustin, for the record, does feel guilty. A little bit. “You and the rest of the little gremlins will be the death of me, I swear. Not cool, man.”

 “Sorry,” Dustin tells him sincerely. Pauses. And then, “so?”

 “So?”

 “Steve.”

 What follows is a long-suffering sigh. Dustin’s lip twitches.

 “I don’t even know how to play your stupid game.”

 It should be known that Dustin absolutely did not pump his fist in the air in a silent sign of victory. He did not. But the smile that broke out on his face? Yeah, he won’t deny that.

 “I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I promise.”

 -&-

There’s a familiar buzz in the air, absorbing all the pre-game excitement and nerves. Gareth and Jeff heatedly discuss their respective strategies from last week, while Grant feverishly writes something down in his notebook, be it a new song lyric or an addition to his character’s backstory. Just as Eddie finishes rearranging the chairs around the table, the doors open, and his favorite freshmen flood into the classroom.

Except-

“Heard you’re one person short for your Dancers and Dweebs game, Munson,” Steve Harrington (Steve Harrington, his brain supplies helpfully) smirks up at him, jacket sliding off one of his shoulders. On anyone else it would look awkward, for sure, but on Steve, it looks, well, it looks-

“Uh,” is what Eddie responds with initially, a streak of panic flashing through his gut and straightening his back.  Where the hell is Sinclair? Why is He here, instead? There’s so much to address - as he stands there, blinking owlishly, fingers wrapped tightly around the back of a cheap plastic chair - with a witty remark of sorts most fitting, surely. He adds, then, seemingly for no other purpose but to dig his grave just a little deeper. “Um.”

“You know it’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Mike’s annoyed reply snaps Eddie back to reality just a little bit. He feels very much out of his depth, here, in his club, with his campaign notes strewn around, with his closest friends, and-and Steve Harrington? Granted, Dustin has been babbling his ear off about Steve, how awesome he is and the like; not that Eddie believed it for a second since it seemed like a highly idealized big-brother situation at best. But here he is, the King himself. Doing – what exactly?

No, he can make it work. He can, really. He’s made it out of situations much more awkward than this.

 Steve wouldn’t beat him up in front of a kid, right?

Right?

Though, considering the amount of times he’s seen Steve Harrington walking around school with his face punched in, Eddie’s not so sure the guy knows how to actually win a fight.

Eddie definitely doesn’t, and so he’s not going to push it. Too much.

He’s curious, is the thing. It’s tempting, very tempting, to poke the bear - just a little bit. It’s not every day that the former King of Hawkins High enters your humble abode, not with snot-nosed freshmen trailing after him like he’s their personal hero (and yes, that does include Mini Wheeler, even though he’d surely throw a fit if Eddie as much as implied it). Steve Harrington should feel more out of place, surrounded by everything his former so-called ‘King’ persona would mock outright not even two or three years ago but, somehow, he does not and the thought weighs down on Eddie’s gut. He’s not sure if it’s dread or adrenaline yet.

So, in the end, Eddie does what he does best - he acts.

“We are, indeed, in dire need of a player,” he laments, clutching at his heart and leaning his head back. Tilting his head to the side, gazing at Harrington almost upside down, he smirks. “Why, has the king himself decided to join us this fine evening?”

Harrington rolls his eyes in response, brow twitching, but Eddie doesn’t mind. This is normal, expected. Usually accompanied with an insult of sorts but he can really do without one, and so he’s silently grateful. Small victories and all that motivational shit.

So. Here’s the thing.

Steve Harrington actually knows the basics (“I did all the work!” “Yes, Dustin, we know.”). First thing the poor jock (ex-jock?) does is fling a half-filled out character sheet in Eddie’s face with a proud glint in his eye which he does not find endearing at all – he does not, stop laughing, Gareth, for fuck’s sake-. Things get worse from there. Steve’s adorably confused through most of the three-hour playthrough, terribly, tragically unimaginative with the way he makes his choices, but he pays attention, or at least tries to, which is a lot more than Eddie has expected of him.

And, fuck, it’s attractive. It’s embarrassing as it is, to fall for a jock, Steve Harrington of all people at that. But then the guy turns out not to be a complete and utter douche? It’s confusing but exhilarating, in a way, makes Eddie want to push and poke and want. Eddie’s not a brave person, he’ll be first to admit that, but he sees Harrington’s confused pout or tentative smile and is tempted to do something utterly stupid and reckless, like kiss him, for example. And isn’t that a thought. A dangerous and foolish one, but a thought that clings to him the whole evening nonetheless.

Eddie can’t help the sigh of relief the moment Steve Harrington leaves the Hellfire Club with a wave and red-splotchy cheeks, throwing out a loose ‘see you around, Munson’ at the door. See you never, hopefully, he muses, if not a bit unkindly. Because Steve Harrington makes him feel confused and scared and hopeful and he wants more after only a few hours – and he knows, God, he knows, that could never happen. He and Harrington belong to two different worlds, two clashing ecosystems and it was nice, for an evening, but they’d always be just out of reach of each other.

Tomorrow, he’ll drive by Family Video and think nothing of it. In a week Steve would be waiting outside the school to pick up the little rascals and they will not talk.

A month from now, Chrissy Cunningham will die in Eddie Munson’s trailer.

Come find me at InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking on ao3

[indristian]

Weirdly specific König Headcanons part 5

By an austrian for an austrian character

After the Trump speech, where he claimed that our trees were explosive König wouldn't shut up about the warlike conditions he had to endure when playing in our forest cities.

In May 2019, after the Ibiza affair, there was a solid week, where he would almost exclusively listen to Ibiza-related partysongs.

He hates being carried, he's normally the one carrying people. And most of the time when he carries people it's the fireman's carry.

He celebrates Christmas on the 24. of december in the evening. This and the food blessing for easter are the only times a year he'll go to church without being forced by his family, mostly bc he gets food afterwards.

His father would often wake him to help with the farm. If he was hungover and refused he'd get told "Wer saufen kann, kann am nächsten Tag auch arbeiten" (very loosely translated "Those that have the energy to go out and drink, have the energy to go work on the next day"). He sometimes uses the phrase just to get on his teammates nerves.

Every time someone complains about their job within his earshot he'll say "Hättest halt was g'scheites g'lernt" (meaning "Should've trained for a better job then"). When pointed out that they have the same "shit" job he just sighs and says "Yeah, takes one to know one."

Prefers colder temperatures over warmer ones bc "It's easier to put on clothes to keep warm than take them off to keep cool, especially when you're down to your underwear already"

People, for some reason, just love to tell him all the gossip and he loves it. Too bad he has no idea who half of the people he has gossip on are/forgets about the names involved immediately

Inspired by my best friend: If you go on a hike with him, he'll be standing there at the top of the mountain with his hands on his hips, not a drop of sweat on his face and he'll say "Yeah, that was a tough hike" while you're on the ground next to him fighting for for your life

If he's bored he'll go on r/austria to see if there's any "drama" like the "I ripped my 1000€ jacket on somebody's fence, can I sue them?" or the "Someone vomited in the staircase in front of my flat, do I have to clean it?" posts and the posts that made fun of them

He knows how to use a scythe (for mowing grass things, maybe also slicing up people, but mostly just mowing grass). First time his team sees him with one they take a pic, add the text "bad soldiers get reaped by the big german grim reaper" and post it on the community fridge. Within a day the german is angrily scribbled out and austrian added instead.

And not really a headcanon more like something i overheard while one of my friends played warzone: when you play the game in german and König heals you he says "Put some spit on it" (if I remember correctly)

I'm surprised I came up with so many headcanons, tho I'm kinda running out of steam.

In other news I made a playlist of songs I think would get stuck in his head/he would listen to. The playlist is a weird genre mix, but I swear I can can think of a reason for each song to be in it. I may add some new songs over time.

And I'm so happy spotify doesn't record what I'm listening to rn bc I don't want Austropop to be in my top 5 genres for the next wrapped.

Part one, two, three, four and six

[flomp-mp4]

I'm obsessed with the slasher au, tell us more if you have more? I really like the way Jay is in his dynamics with Tim and Alex

Oh most definitely!

Have a little chart I made aswell. Just for fun.

And here's some little details about the characters I didn't mention in the original post! Along with more details on the ones that I did.

Tim

•he/they

•rock. Rocks are easy to bash somebody's head in.

•He's actually nonverbal, mostly using sign language to communicate. I like to think Jay saw this one day and decided to learn it on his own, just so he could know what the guy is saying.

•they only put up with Alex when they have to, not straight up being rude for Jay's sake. He feels like Alex overcomplicates everything, taking way too much time with it. It's just cruel to kill somebody slowly, torturing them to death for the sake of entertainment.

Jay

•he\him

•Not a fighter, not by a long shot. Bro has lost every fight he's been in.

•Does not blink. Seriously Jay has a hard-core staring problem. Alex will often point it out because he doesn't even realise he's doing it.

•Whenever he wants to film something and Alex is either too busy or isn't in the mood, he goes out and watches whatever masky is doing. He thinks he's being sneaky by hiding in the bushes or behind a tree in the dark; but masky knows he's there, that blinking red light always gives him away. But does he care? Not really. After a while he just accepted Jay as something he wouldn't get rid of. Kind of like a stray cat that just shows up sometimes.

•if you've seen the series, you know how Jay films people without permission. This one takes that up to the max; stalking them, recording them in their homes, just for his own entertainment. Bro has some weird hobbies.

•tried eating somebody's eye, he's always wanted to know what the texture would be but Alex stopped him; quoting "bloodborn illness" as a reason not to.

Alex

•he/him

•his weapon of choice is a gun, obviously, but he only uses it when he has to.

•Out of the four, Alex takes his 'job' the most seriously. He's a perfectionist at heart so he takes great time and effort into setting up his work; making sure each part of his plan is executed perfectly and efficiently.

•He considers what he does as an art form, not as 'senseless killing' like he perceives tim and Brian to be doing. If he's going to take a life then it's going to be worth it, he's better than those filthy creatures getting off on somebody's head being smashed in with a pickaxe. It's not a snuff film guys! It's just art that you wouldn't understand he swears!

•sees it as his job to keep Jay out of trouble; he swears that guy can't survive on his own, always doing something stupid.

Brian

•He/it

•you can't go wrong with the classic knife. But he also likes a little bit of strangulation, it usually depends on how he's feeling.

•I can see him being like two completely different people. Brian is kind, sweet, and overall a nice guy, where hoodie is a downright narcissistic dickhead. Like jekyll and Hyde but it's just one guy who really likes the scream franchise.

•did I mention he likes scream?

•has a sort of "nuh uh" and "fym nuh uh" relationship with Alex. It loves to mess up his meticulously planned scenes, moving things so slightly out of place that he only notices after filming. He finds the way Alex's face scrunches up in anger funny.

•Jay tried recording them *once* and hoodie immidetly grabbed the camera and smashed it to bits. He doesn't put up with it like masky does, he sees it as evidence that needs to be destroyed. It would have killed Jay after that if it wasn't for masky telling him that it was a normal thing that he did and wasn't any harm.

[themummersfolly]

Slipsand

Not sure I like how this one turned out; y'all be the judges of it. Octoboss, Mr. Harley, and Mr. Davidson content, featuring Mortiflyer Matt.

“Harley!”

Mr. Harley stopped in his tracks. He didn’t correct the term of address; the Organic Mechanic called people whatever the hell he wanted to.

“You been in my stash?”

“No.”

Organic eyed him suspiciously. “Sure about that?”

“Swear on me bike!” Mr. Harley raised his shooting hand earnestly. “No offence, but the less I see of you and your kit, the better. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Somebody’s been in my stash and made off with a whole bottle of distilled spirits. You find out who took it, tell ‘em I want it back.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to miss your evening tipple.”

Organic bristled. “That’s an antiseptic, not a party drug! You go make the rounds in the camp, find out who’s got it.”

Technically speaking, Mr. Harley didn’t have to take orders from the Organic Mechanic. But it wasn’t a smart move to piss off the man who might be patching you up tomorrow. He went.

The Mortifiers were camped nearest to Organic’s trike, and if anyone could have snuck in and stolen from him unseen, it was them. But they weren’t the sort of people you wanted to accuse to their faces of something like that. And they’d been off since they rolled back in around midafternoon: quiet, in a way that made him uneasy. Mr. Harley decided he’d check on them last. With any luck, he’d turn up an acceptable replacement elsewhere and Organic would be content to let the matter go.

A low spur of rock jutted out from the ridge, dividing the camp in two. He hiked over it, taking the shortcut and the opportunity to avoid the Mortifiers. He had nearly reached the crest when he heard a sound.

“Eh? Who’s there?”

It sounded like a lizard scurrying for cover. He made his way towards the sound. He and Mr. Davidson could have themselves a fine little barbecue…

Something came sailing out of the rocks and clattered at his feet. At the same time a ragged voice cried out close by:

“Get lost, ya cunt!”

Mr. Harley stared at the pistol at his feet, then traced its trajectory back. The Octoboss sat in a gap in the rock, concealed from most lines of sight. His helmet lay on the ground beside him; the snarl on his face was made significantly less menacing by the bottle clutched in one hand and the way his eyes kept sliding out of focus. Mr. Harley turned to face him.

“Organic wants his hooch back.”

“Tell him to get fucked.”

Mr. Harley tilted his head to the side. “What you doing up here, anyway? Sun’s going down, you oughta be your mates.”

At the mention of the Mortifiers, the Octoboss sat bolt upright, eyes wide with- anger? Fear? For a moment he glared at Mr. Harley, trembling. Then, as if his ignition had been cut, he collapsed back with his head against the rock behind him and took a deep, sobbing breath.

“Oh.” Mr. Harley glanced around, then bent and picked up the Octoboss’s pistol. “Went sideways today, huh?”

“’S a training mission,” the Octoboss slurred. Nobody else in the Horde had training missions; but then, nobody else in the Horde had a record like the Mortifiers, so maybe they were onto something. He looked up and saw his pistol in Mr. Harley’s hands, and snatched at it ineffectually. “Give i’back.”

Mr. Harley dropped the magazine and cleared the chamber before holding it out for him to take. The Octoboss settled back and closed his eyes. Mr. Harley hunkered beside him. This close, he could see the tear tracks cutting through the grime down his face.

“Crikey,” he muttered. “I never knew you to take more’n a sip at a time. How much did you drink?”

Without opening his eyes, the Octoboss held up the bottle. It was three quarters empty; there was no telling how much had been in it. Mr. Harley studied him.

“Not trying to off yourself, are you?”

The Octoboss mumbled something indistinct but negative. Mr. Harley was beginning to wonder if he should go get some help when the other man’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright.

“You know what this is?” The Octoboss brandished the pistol in his face. “’S a Colt Commander 45 ACP! Gold-plated, custom grips! Given to me by Killcount!”

“Yeah.” None of this was news to Mr. Harley. “He’s got good taste, Killcount.”

“Had,” the Octoboss choked. “He had good taste.” He started to collapse sideways. Mr. Harley reached out and caught him by the shoulder, holding him up until he could wedge himself in beside him.

“Gitoff,” the Octoboss muttered halfheartedly. Mr. Harley let go of him and he slumped against his shoulder.

“Guess this is why your boys been so quiet.”

The other man’s face knit up in anguish. “’S my fault. Only got in that rig ‘cause I told him to. He trusted me!” A sound like a wounded animal escaped his throat, then quietly, against Mr. Harley’s shoulder: “I fucked up.”

Wondering how he’d gotten to the point where he was comforting the Octoboss of all people, Mr. Harley wrapped one arm around the other man’s shoulders.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Wind’s in the west, about ten knots. There’s a squall on the horizon, looks like it’ll miss us.”

The Octoboss nodded along to Jag’s weather report. “Good flying weather.” He turned to Killcount. “You ready for this?”

Killcount tugged at the straps of his parachute. “Ready for anything, Boss.”

“Let me hear your instructions back.”

“Just like being towed. We get up to speed, I pop the chute and lift off. Steer with the brake lines, put her through some basic maneuvers, don’t try anything fancy.” A sandscreen hid his face, but his posture was relaxed. The Octoboss turned his mask over in his hands, studying his pilot.

“You comfortable with the rig?”

Killcount snorted. “You designed it, Boss.”

“That’s not an answer.”

A cocky tip of the head. “Affirm. If I was any more comfortable with it I’d be napping.”

“Right. Take her up.”

Killcount threw an informal salute and turned to the waiting sidecar. As the driver sped off, Jag cupped a hand around his mouth. “Don’t fly into the storm, wanker!”

The sail opened perfectly; the Octoboss let out a breath he’d been holding. Killcount flailed a little on lift-off, so used to the towing rig, but in short order he got his grip on the brake lines and brought the rig under control. A cheer went up from his comrades as he soared over them.

“Bloody oath, look at him go!”

“Gotta be doing almost 30 clicks, eh, Matt?”

“Piss off, he’s not doing more than 10.”

The Octoboss followed his progress across the sky. They hadn’t even been sure the rig would get off the ground; now that it had, the plan was simple maneuvers only, just to prove the concept. Killcount took the sail through a series of turns, using the occasional updraft to gain altitude. The Octoboss was already making mental modifications. A way to steer that left the hands free, maybe a fan if they could find one the right size. That would give the pilot more control over speed, too, maybe enough to run down a moving target…

The sail began to rise sharply. Killcount banked to stay in that column of air.

“Hey Boss! I caught a thermal!”

“Use it!” he called back.

Up, up, until the sail was a dot against the blue and the glare made everyone’s eyes water. Warthog leaned on his handlebars.

“He better be careful.”

It was a technique they’d discussed but never had the opportunity to try until now: gain altitude with a thermal, then glide until you found another to boost you. Solar power, the History Man called it. Shine the sun’s light on something and turn its heat into fuel.

Jag shielded his eyes with both hands. “I think he’s fouled.”

The Octoboss screwed up his eyes against the glare. He’d drifted out of his spiral, heading east. Part of the sail seemed to be deformed; they could see Killcount struggling below it.

“Lines are tangled,” the Octoboss realized. He was losing altitude fast. He eyeballed the trajectory and kicked his motorcycle to life. Wherever he landed, they needed to get to him first.

The terrain got sandier to the east, giving rise to dunes within a few kilometers. The Octoboss kept one eye on his wayward flyer, willing him to regain control over the rig. If he could make it to the dunes, he might be able to use the updraft to break his fall; if he had to, he could even skid across the side of one and land without injuring himself. He was nearing one of the low dunes now. He kicked out, managed to catch and drag his heels a few meters. A gust of wind caught his sail and dragged him through the crest, out of sight. The Octoboss cursed and gunned his engine, looking for the quickest way around.

“I don’t see him!” Warthog had kept pace with him, Jag hanging out of the sidecar and scanning the terrain. “He couldn’ta gone far, could he?”

Fear rose in his chest. The wide trough between the dunes looked empty. There was no way Killcount could have regained altitude, his sail was almost fully collapsed. The Octoboss rolled up onto a rise in the sand, trying for a better vantage point. There, a few hundred meters away, a movement on the surface of the sand caught his eye. At the same time Jag called out:

“I see him!”

Slightly ahead, the Octoboss accelerated towards the movement. It was human, all right, a pair of arms, struggling at the surface of the sand. Had he landed so hard he’d been buried? And where was the sail? As he got closer, it looked less like Killcount was under the sand and more like he was beyond the edge of it, as though the ground fell away in a-

“Sinkhole!” the Octoboss yelled. He skidded to a halt, motioning frantically for his men to stop behind him. He leapt off his bike and ran forward, throwing himself flat when he felt the sand start to shift under him. Killcount’s fingers were barely visible over the edge now. He shimmied to the edge, reached out to grab his hand, and felt the ground give way, dropping them further into the pit.

Something heavy landed across his legs and he heard Jag’s voice yelling to hang on. He shook sand from his eyes and found himself staring at Killcount. The other man scrambled at the slope. His sandscreen was gone and his eyes wide. His sail was barely visible in the bottom of the pit, filling with sand as it dragged him down.

“Boss!” There was terror there he hadn’t heard since they were teenagers. “Help me!”

Killcount’s hands were just out of reach.

“Lower me!” At the same time, he unclipped his cape and flung it forward. “Grab it!”

A vibration ran through the sand: the rest of the crew pulling up. More of the slope gave way. Killcount screamed as he slid further out of reach.

There were shouts behind him, someone yelling for grappling hooks. The weight on his legs was replaced and he felt himself lowered another meter, two meters. A glance over his shoulder: it was Matt, holding onto a grappling hook with one hand and the straps of the Octoboss’s shin guard with the other.

“Keep going!” he yelled to someone up top. Another meter down. The Octoboss snapped his cape to get it back within Killcount’s reach. This time he caught it by one corner. His legs were already buried to the knee.

“Got him! Pull away!”

Somehow, Killcount got his other hand into the fabric. The Octoboss pulled with everything he had, even as Matt pulled him up by his gear. Motorcycles revved. They were barely gaining ground.

“Don’t let me go!” Killcount’s hands were beginning to slip on the fabric. “Please, Boss!”

“Hang tight!” The Octoboss could barely turn his head. “Hook up another bike!”

“The chute!” Matt yelled. “It’s pulling him down!”

“Killcount! Lose the chute!”

“I can’t let go!”

“Do it!” Turning again, as best he could: “Slack! Slack!”

He slid forward a few centimeters, enough to give Killcount a proper grip with one hand.

“Unclip! Killcount, you’re caught by your chute!”

Killcount looked back at him: panic-stricken, the eyes of a trapped animal. But he obeyed. Holding on with one hand, he fumbled with his flying harness, kicked free of it.

“Pull! Pull!”

A rumble ran through the sand. Killcount lunged, caught the Octoboss’s hand. He had a glimpse of his face, full of horror, and the entire wall of the sinkhole collapsed. Sand filled the Octoboss’s eyes and ears and mouth, dragging him down.

When his head cleared, he was facedown on the desert floor, coughing violently while someone pounded him on the back. His hair hung loose in his face, and something was hung up around his left boot. He realized it was his shin guard.

“Matt-”

Whoever was pounding on his back stopped.

“All good, Boss,” came the ragged reply behind him.

He managed to push himself up to his elbows. His arms and chest burned. “Killcount?”

The cape hung limp in his hand. He blinked sand out of his eyes. At the other end of it lay nothing.

“He’s gone,” said Warthog beside him. His voice shook. “We tried- if it wasn’t for Matt here, we’da lost you.”

He stared, dumbstruck, at the hole where his pilot had been- his best pilot. His friend. To die in a crash was one thing. To die like this, sucked down, choked, crushed-

There wasn’t anything we could do.

It shouldn’t have happened, it was a freak chance, a bad dream-

There wasn’t anything we could do.

He’d had him by the hand, they’d almost been out-

There wasn’t anything we could do.

How long did it take to die, drowning in sand?

The sun was fully down. The Octoboss sat slumped against Mr. Harley’s shoulder, eyes closed. Mr. Harley had placed the bottle with its few remaining swallows out of his reach, but allowed him to keep the pistol; unloaded as it was, it seemed to comfort him.

Boots crunched on the path over the ridge.

“Mr. Harley? Love? You up here?”

“Oi!” he answered back. A moment later Mr. Davidson came into view.

“Organic said you was looking for- oh. Looks like the two of you found his missing bottle.”

The Octoboss let out a huff that might have been a snore. Mr. Harley motioned with one hand: he’s drunk. Mr. Davidson grimaced.

“Pissed as a newt, ain’t he?”

“He had a bad day.”

“He’ll have a worse one come tomorrow. Organic won’t help him with that hangover.”

“Don’t think it can get much worse than losing one of your mates. ‘Specially the way his lot hang together.”

“Poor bastard. Well, what do we do with him?”

“’M right here,” the Octoboss mumbled into Mr. Harley’s jacket.

“Good on ya,” Mr. Davidson replied. “Can you stand up? We’ll walk you back to your boys.”

The Octoboss mumbled a reply.

“Eh? What’sat?”

“Said jus’ leave me here. They don’t need t’see me like this.”

“You’ll freeze to death inside an hour,” snapped Mr. Davidson. “Bloody hell. Suppose he’ll have to rack with us.”

“’At’s alright. C’mon, mate, we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Least until you sober up, then Organic’s gonna have your scalp.”

The Octoboss was a couple of centimeters taller than Mr. Harley, but significantly lighter in build; lifting him to his feet was like manipulating a particularly wobbly set of disjointed tent poles. Mr. Harley got one arm over his shoulders, and Mr. Davidson got the other as well as the horned helmet. Slowly, they picked their way back down the path.

“This here’s the tricky part,” Mr. Davidson said near the bottom of the hill. “You get him back to the bikes. I’ll let his boys know where he is.”

“Don’t tell ‘em ‘bout this. ‘Bout…” The Octoboss blinked, his train of thought having apparently skipped the tracks. “Jus’ don’t. Or I’ll have t’kill you.”

Mr. Harley and Mr. Davidson exchanged glances.

“You throw up in my bedroll and Organic’ll have to stand in line to scalp you,” Mr. Davidson replied.

“Don’t throw up when I drink. Never have.” The Octoboss sagged against Mr. Harley. Mr. Davidson made an annoyed snort and headed off toward the Mortifiers’ camp.

“We’re not gonna narc on you,” Mr. Harley offered. “They don’t need to know anything else but you’re alright. After what happened today, they don’t need more worry.”

At the mention of his men, the Octoboss got quiet.

“Can’t face ‘em,” he mumbled. “Keep seeing Killcount. Should been me in the chute, it was my fucking idea…”

“Killcount was a good fella. I’m sorry he had to go that way.”

Dim firelight showed fresh tears on the Octoboss’s face. “Rode with me since we were kids. ’S my best flyer.”

“Yeah. And we’ll remember him when we see you flying. You’ll remember him when you fly.”

They were back at the little campsite. Mr. Harley eased the Octoboss down onto his own bedroll; he’s double up with Mr. Davidson tonight. The Octoboss sat cross-legged, staring at the dirt in the darkness.

“I keep seeing him down there. I keep seeing his eyes. He trusted me.”

“Yeah, he did. They all do, your Mortifiers.” Mr. Harley crouched in front of him. “You’ve always done right by them. So here’s how you do right by ol’ Killcount. When you see him, you reach out, tell him he can rest and you’ve got it from here, and you close his eyes. And then you get up, and you do what you can for them that’s still with you. Savvy?”

The Octoboss stared at him, slightly cross-eyed, before closing his eyes. He swayed in place a little, and for a moment Mr. Harley thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Savvy,” he said at last.