#9 and three quarters (run away)

[goldennika]

It feels like everybody’s happy but me

It hurts more when I smile than when I cry

Though I try to hold it back everyday, though I try to hang in there

But it’s not working so well, I need your hand now...

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

The urge to wear Soobin's clothes and be swallowed by them and be a human burrito is real.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 11

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

Steve waits until everyone’s gone home to open the letter. Chrissy had ribbed him over not sharing but, no matter how supportive she is, she just doesn’t get it—she can’t. No matter what she’s shared, her and Jeff are clearly dating. And even if they hadn’t been, Jeff likes girls. The worst thing that would’ve happened is him turning her down.

With Eddie? The worst thing that could happen is total annihilation.

And Steve’s never been good at holding himself back. He cares fast, and he cares hard, and he can never quite stop, no matter what changes, or how much distance he puts between himself and the other person. Look at Nancy, and Tommy, and Carol, and his parents, and every single relationship he’s had where he’s all in, and the other person never meets him. He doesn’t even need halfway, hell, he’d take a quarter.

But even that’s never how it works out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steve Harrington is too much, always.

So, if his fingers shake as he opens the letter, who can blame him?

But, inside is everything he could have ever asked for—Because you’re it, baby. He caresses the words, fingers trembling, heart shuddering in his chest to a beat that sounds a lot like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

He knows it’s stupid. This letter isn’t for Steve, not really. It’s Chrissy’s face Eddie pictured when he wrote it, Chrissy’s lips he imagined kissing, Chrissy’s hand he imagined holding. But, it’s hard to remember, when there’s such longing on the page in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to say, thoughts running too fast to pick them out and write them down. He tries, pen stuttering over the page in half-formed sentences, until he’s left with:

  Eddie —

  You don’t want to know what I

  Someone has loved you. I love

  I’ll take anything you

  Fuck

Hee crumples the letter up into a ball, and tosses it across the room toward the trash bin. He shoots, he misses, he lays down with all the lights still on.

Steve stares down at Eddie’s letter, helpless in the face of the bubbling hope, unwilling to squash it. He folds the letter back up and puts it under his pillow, hoping for dreams, just like Eddie had said.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s tired the next morning, zoning out during class, and shuffling through the halls like a zombie. Chrissy keeps sending him worried looks, and even Robin asks if he’s okay in Mrs. Click’s class, which she was right, they do share.

Steve tells her he’s just tired, and she drops it, but there’s a sad, knowing smile on her face.

It happens at lunch. Eddie jumps up on his lunch table, boots thudding loudly against its metal surface, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. Everyone looks away, familiar with his tabletop rants by now, but Steve can’t look away.

Eddie’s magnetic when he’s like this, a black hole swirling everything up in its path. Steve doesn’t want to miss a thing, barely blinks as Eddie begins the familiar walk across the Hellfire table.

“Forced conformity, folks—it’s what’s killing the kids!” he cries, clapping fast to punctuate the sentence. Across Steve’s own table, Tommy boos, gaining momentum when the people around him laugh and join in. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Hagan, you’re the worst of all.”

He’s grinning, but it’s not the dimpled one. He’s just baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. “You’re all so focused on shooting balls in laundry baskets, like that’s all there is, but guess what? You’re going to be a washed-up has-been before you’re even out of this school.”

He takes a few steps forward, eyes straying from Tommy farther up the table, making it clear he’s talking to all of them. “You don’t realize that daddy’s money’s gonna dry up, and you’ll be left with a wife and three kids you don’t even like, reliving the old glory days like they were even worth remembering.”

“Come say that to my face, Munson!” Tommy cries, standing up from the table as the rest of them egg him on.

Eddie makes a little rock and roll symbol and smirks, like that’s exactly what he wanted Tommy to say. “And you know what? That’s all you’ll deserve for the shit you’ve pulled. A sad lonely life with your sad flaccid dick.”

And suddenly, he’s looking right at Steve, gaze piercing straight through Steve and into his soft, squishy underbelly. There’s blood in the water, and by Eddie’s laugh, he can taste it. “You’ve earned it,” he says, not even blinking, his eyes so intense Steve can’t breath with it. “After all, once a jock, always a jock.”

Chrissy links their fingers and squeezes his hand beneath the table. Steve blinks, spell broken as he squeezes her back in thanks. He looks down at his remaining chicken nuggets, appetite gone.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, barely audible with all the continued heckling.

Steve glances up just in time to watch Eddie jump down from the table and plop his ass down like none of it happened at all. He’s laughing as Jeff and Gareth pat his back, but he looks deflated, like the whole spectacle took everything out of him.

“I will be,” Steve replies, pushing his lunch tray away.

If nothing else, he has something to write now.

*** 

Eddie can’t get the look on Harrington’s face out of his mind. He’d been at the top of his game, riling the jocks up enough that Hagan had jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. But, then he’d looked at Harrington, and it’d all gone wrong.

The guy was drooping into himself, mouth down-turned, eyes like a kicked puppy. Eddie stuttered, got caught up in him, something unnameable stuck in his throat. Eddies doesn’t even know what he’d said after that, couldn’t hear himself think much less speak, until Harrington finally looked down at the tabletop and their eye contact broke. 

Now he’s stumbling over his words, trying not to even look Harrington’s way as he finishes off his speech. It lacks the usual oomph, but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants the whole thing to end.

Eddie stumbles down into his chair, shuddering through his smile as Gareth and Doug elbow him in the side, ribbing him good-naturedly. He chokes out a laugh, and doesn’t look at the jock’s table for the rest of lunch.

The next time he sees Harrington, there’s another complication to contend with in the form of Robin Buckley, best known for her proficiency on the trumpet and quirky outfits. And now? She’s best known for attaching herself like a barnacle to Harrington’s side.

Except, if she was a barnacle, Harrington might at least try to shake her off. But, no. He just smiles at her, and whispers with her, as she inserts herself between Chrissy and Harrington like she belongs there.

Chrissy, for her part, seems to like the girl as well.

Eddie doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend what the hell’s happening, and it makes something squirmy and viscous sink into his stomach every time Buckley inserts herself between the pair, every time they smile at her.

But, they still stop to talk to him in between classes, so Eddie tries to drop it.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Eddie cries, phone clutched to his ear, not even letting Gareth get a word out before he’s continuing the conversation Jeff had rudely interrupted by showing up to lunch. “What the hell is Harrington’s deal?”

“Dude, you’re like, obsessed,” Gareth replies, clearly talking around a mouthful of whatever after-school snack he’d chosen this time.

“Is he trying to date every girl in school at the same time?” he whines, yanking on his hair hard enough that his scalp tingles.

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, and that same squirmy feeling makes Eddie wriggle his whole body, like there’s a chill in the air.

Is the heater on the fritz again?

“Of who?” Eddie screeches before quieting down, peeking into the living room to make sure Uncle Wayne hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t, but Eddie still keeps his voice lowered as he continues hissing into the receiver. “Of Harrington? Don’t be absurd.”

Gareth laughs, “I don’t know, man, but this whole thing is just getting weird.”

“I know, right? What are they up to?” Eddie asks, ignoring Gareth’s muttered “not what I meant,” like he hadn’t said anything at all.

He never figures it out because Buckley never comes around—not to band practice, or Hellfire, or any of the other times Chrissy and Eddie (and Harrington) are in the same place. Eddie should be relieved. He’s not.

Everything is spiraling out of his control.

But, the letters keep coming, and Eddie keeps devouring them

  Eddie —

  I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

  You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head.

  I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same.

  I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

They all make something flutter within him like his lungs are growing wings and flapping themselves out of his body entirely. Even as it leaves him breathless and aching, he wants more of it, longs for it.

It’s just—she sounds so sad, lately, like she’s losing hope in this at all.

All Eddie wants to do is reassure her. So, he keeps writing back, pulling his heart off his sleeve and flinging it down on the page for Chrissy to read, hoping he’ll somehow see those same feelings reflected in her eyes.

He never does.

So, he pokes; he wheedles; he pines for a girl on a page that never quite stands before him. And he pours it all onto the page.

  Secret Admirer,

  I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect.

  I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

  P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s not enough—something is breaking open in him that words on the page can’t quite mend.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Eddie says once Harrington and Chrissy have left the latest Hellfire session, still inexplicably coming despite never playing.

Jeff chokes on his sip of soda, coughing harshly enough that some of it comes out of his mouth and splatters onto the table.

“Gross, dude,” Doug says, but still pats his back like he’s burping a baby.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks, tone disbelieving.

Eddie makes crazy eyes at him, trying to psychically beam all his thoughts into Gareth’s head like, yes I’m serious, and, you know about the notes, why are you looking at me like that, and, what the hell else am I supposed to do to crack this mystery wide open?

“That is such a bad idea,” Jeff cuts in once he’s got his coughing under wraps.

Eddie whips towards him, scowling at his best friend as he replies, “you’re just jealous.”

Jeff sighs, heaves himself out of his chair, says a quick, “whatever, dude,” and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

“Aren’t you his ride?” Doug asks.

Eddie flaps his hand in dismissal and replies, “forget about him,” despite his gut sinking down into his boots at Jeff’s words.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” Gareth asks, the only one of his friends to seem even remotely excited.

Eddie keeps flapping his hand and replies, “never you mind.”

That even gets Gareth to scoff, knowing Eddie well enough to know that means he’s got nothing.

But there’s a thought niggling away at his brain: why not finish this thing the same way it had begun?

On his way out the door, he drops his latest letter to Chrissy into the trash bin and doesn’t look back. He’s got a new letter to write.

*** 

“You know this is juvenile, right?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy pulls the world atlas off the shelf with a roll of her eyes.

Her and Steve had fought about him picking up the letters alone, and Chrissy had won the way she always does when it comes to matters of his safety. He’s sulking in the parking lot now, waiting for her to retrieve it for him.

But, there’s no letter behind the cover. She flips through the whole book, then shakes it, pages flapping wildly, to see if anything falls out. Nothing does. No note, at least not yet.

Steve will be disappointed.

“They’re boys, of course it’s juvenile,” Chrissy says, turning away from the shelf to make pointed eye contact.

If boys are stupid, Jeff is the stupidest of them all. She thinks she can see a tinge of red to his dark cheeks that makes her smile. Chrissy turns away to pick up her book bag where she’d left it on the closet table.

“There’s no letter?” Jeff asks, sounding surprised.

Chrissy sighs, responding, “not yet. I’ll have to check back tomorrow.”

Steve will be crushed. He’s been weird about the letters since he’d begun writing the first drafts alone. Even with the minor polishing Chrissy puts on them after, they’re Steve’s words and feelings, no matter what Eddie thinks. And it shows in the way he takes them home and pours over them for days before slinking back to her with the original letter and his response, cheeks rosy as she fixes his spelling errors.

“Eddie’s planning on asking you out, you know,” Jeff says.

There’s a clatter behind one of the shelves, but Chrissy barely notices. “He said that?” she asks, turning sharply toward him, hand still clutching her book bag. 

Jeff nods, lips pursed. God, what are they going to do? This whole thing has spiraled so far out of either of their control. Chrissy had known when she offered that there was a chance Eddie would catch on—that he’d see her leaving a note, or catch her picking one up.

Better her than Steve, she’d thought then. No matter the awkward situation she’s found herself in, she still thinks that, even more so now. Better her than Steve. Steve, who’s proven himself kinder than she ever imagined, who would be run out of town, her ex-boyfriend at the head of the mob.

Chrissy can hear someone shuffling out of sight, feet shuffling on carpet far too close for comfort, so she steps closer to Jeff and lowers her voice. 

“Do you know when?” Chrissy asks, anxiety leaching into her. She needs to talk to Steve. Flirting with Eddie is one thing, but going on a date with him? Going out with him? That’s a whole other monster.

And then, of course, there’s Jeff.

“No, he hasn’t told me anything,” he replies, something small and hurt in his voice.

Chrissy’s never had a best friend, but Steve’s given her a little taste of it, and she’d be hurt if he didn’t tell her something like this.

“He’s probably embarrassed,” Chrissy says, aching to reach out and touch, but they’re in public, and Jason could be lurking behind any corner; the last thing she wants is to put a target on another person she cares about’s back. “You’re still his best friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, but when she bumps their shoulders together gently, his lips quirk up.

He smiles over at her, bumping their shoulders together himself as he asks, “drive me home?” as if it isn’t a foregone conclusion. “And stay for dinner?”

That gives her pause. She can feel her cheeks flushing. Despite taking the next step in their relationship, Jeff’s never invited her in, not where his parents and brother are. They haven’t even really discussed what they are, not with this whole secret admirer thing hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

But she wants to. She wants to hold his hand in the halls, go to his house for study dates and dinner, kiss him somewhere where they don’t have to be furtive.

It’s all stolen moments with Jeff, kisses and conversations made in haste when all she wants to do is linger. So, she says, “yes, please,” and bounces out into the parking lot.

Steve isn’t there, and neither is his car.

“Maybe he went home?” Jeff asks, but he looks just as unsure as she feels.

“We’ll call him when we get to your house,” she asserts. She’s relieved when all he does is nod and follow her to her car. 

She’s got a best friend to find.

*** 

Robin knows something’s gone wrong as soon as she sees that dangerous gleam in Carver’s eyes. She knows whatever it is, it’s about to go catastrophically wrong when she follows his line of sight to where Eddie stands chatting away with one of his friends.

Still, she stands frozen, watching in breathless horror as Eddie waves goodbye to his friend, that familiar happy grin on his face as he slides into the driver’s seat of his van. Heavy music blares from the rolled-down window as his van sputters to noisy life.

When she turns back to get her eyes on Carver, he’s gone. She spots him only as Eddie peels out of the parking lot, Carver’s douchey car hot on his heels.

Robin turns and runs back into the school. She’d spotted another douchey car still loitering in the parking lot; Steve’s in here somewhere.

She checks the library first, knows from previous confessions that it’s where he and Chrissy work on most of the secret admirer notes. It’s deserted aside from a scattering of freshmen in one corner, and Nancy Wheeler arguing with the librarian about a text the library doesn’t seem to have.

She finds herself in the gym next, unsure if any sports are currently in season, but nice guy or not, Steve’s got jock sensibilities. He likes the gym. There’s a singular kid shooting baskets, but based on the rack of balls off to the side, there might have been more.

She goes to the boy’s locker room without thinking, pushing the swinging door open with sweaty palms and shaking arms.

Inside, she finds boys, all blessedly dressed.

“Ohhh!” they call juvenilely as she stands there, shocked as four pairs of eyes lock on her.

“Girl in the locker room!” someone calls; she’s pretty sure that’s Tommy Hagan’s smug voice, but she barely notices, too caught up in trying to find her boy in the mess of bodies.

“Steve,” Robin strangles out.

Her skin feels tacky with panic sweat, and in the past five minutes of searching, she’s run her fingers through her own hair enough times to leave it sticking on end. She’s sure she looks more like a troll doll than an enticing member of the opposite sex.

“He already left,” a guy she doesn’t recognize responds, eying her up and down. “But I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

As if his meaning wasn’t already clear, he bites his lip and swipes his lip like he’s wiping up drool as all the other boys start “ooooh”ing in unison again. Is that something they’re taught in elementary, or something?

She doesn’t wait for them to continue, just turns and runs out of the locker room, panic nipping at her heels.

She runs back out to the parking lot, out of places to check and desperate to not miss Steve leaving.

That’s where she finds him, leaning casually against his car like Eddie’s life isn’t at stake.

She runs so fast, limbs uncoordinated and breaths coming rapid, that she doesn’t stop in time and hit’s Steve straight in the chest. 

She bounces off, almost falling to the pavement until he grabs her shoulders and steadies her. Steve’s hands feel big on her shoulders, the pressure of his palms pushing her soul back into her body as she takes big, deep gulps.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asks, already looking at her like she’s a wet puppy he’s ready to scoop into his arms and dry off with the shirt on his own back.

There’s too many witnesses, and too many damning words to be said, so all she whispers is, “you need to go, Steve.”

He wrinkles his nose, but something of the gravity of her words must sink in because he leans in without hesitation and meets her pitch as he asks, “where?”

Robin steps even closer, damn-near standing on Steve’s toes as she begins her stilted explanation.

“Jason Carver followed Eddie’s van in his car,” Robin starts, words blurring into each other in her haste to get them out. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but—“

She doesn’t get to finish; Steve bolts to the driver's side door and flings himself into his car without sparing her a second thought.  She can’t blame him.

Robin only hopes he makes it in time.

PART 12

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare Part. 9

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aemond arrives too late to the Red Keep to prevent the events of Blood and Cheese. His wife, who witnessed the brutal killing is left traumatised and Aemond must set aside his feelings of guilt to comfort her.

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Writer's note: I'm incapable of being concise so I've split this into 2 parts. This part picks up right after Blood and Cheese and the next part will follow the aftermath and how seeing such a traumatic event impacts on Aemond's wife. Thank you to everyone whose sent such lovely messages about the most recent part. Genuinely makes me so happy :)

Warnings: mentions of blood but nothing graphic. Depictions of PTSD. Pretty angsty but mostly hurt/comfort.

Aemond felt the blood pounding in his ears as he pushed himself to run faster to the upper levels of the keep, shoving past guards and servants alike and taking the steps three at a time. Each step he took filled him with increasing trepidation at what he would find once he reached his mother's quarters. Panicked shouts met his ears as he turned the next corridor, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he recognised the voice of Y/N, laced with hysteria among the din. He picked up his pace as he heard her shout his name, as if she already knew he was coming. He practically growled at the King's guard occupying the hall.

"Step aside." The guards immediately scattered, allowing Aemond to push past them into his mother's chambers. He had no doubt that his rage and desperation was plain to see on his face. All this seemed to fall away in the instant he saw his wife holding her knees to her chest on the floor as she frantically pushed two maesters and his mother away from her. Nothing mattered now except her, not vengeance, not the painful mixture of grief and guilt that wracked his own body.

He crossed the room in several large strides, angered by the way the maesters crowded around his wife when she was so clearly in a state of shock and pushing them forcibly away.

"What is the meaning of this? Get away from her. Can you not see she is distressed?" At his demanding tone the maesters dispersed, clearly unwilling to face the wrath of the Prince.

Alicent's looked up at the sound of his voice, a look of relief washing over her expression he couldn't understand as she rose from her crouched position by Y/N and hurried towards him.

"Thank the Seven Aemond. She'll allow no one near her and she needs the attentions of a healer." Aemond's eye never left Y/N as his mother spoke, she had not even seemed to notice him enter, her eyes seemingly glazed over as if staring at something he could not see. "Aemond she keeps asking for you."

Aemond did look at his mother then. He would have thought that he would be the last person Y/N would want near her right now....this was his fault. Nevertheless, he had heard Y/N call out for him, he was sure her desperate cry would haunt him forever. He passed by his mother, lowering himself into a crouch next to his wife before reaching out to brush her shoulder. Her glassy expression was immediately replaced by full blown terror as she flinched away from him and shrieked. Aemond quickly retracted his hand, but rushed to offer her assurances. "It me Y/N, it's Aemond. I'm here now. You're safe, I won't let anyone touch you." Y/N looked briefly confused. Though as he held his arms out towards her recognition dawned on her face. Only a moment later she had flung herself into his waiting arms, clutching at him as though for dear life as she sobbed into his shoulder. Aemond held her to him tightly, stroking her hair and whispering soothingly to her. "Sh, my love. No one will touch you again. I'm here now." Aemond felt his mother hovering next to him as Y/N seemed less likely to lash out in his arms.

She whispered into his ear, words that made his blood turn to ice. "She tried to fend off the attackers, grabbed the blade of a dagger with her bare hands to protect Helaena. Aemond, she needs to allow the maester to look at her."

Y/N had heard his mother despite her attempt at being discreet, immediately wriggling closer towards Aemond until she was half in his lap and digging her nails into his shoulders. "No" She gasped out. That decided it for Aemond.

"She said no mother. I won't have them touch her if it distresses her so. I will see to her care myself." With that he rose to stand, lifting his wife up with him as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso. "My sister?" Alicent closed her eyes, though tears still ran down his mother's cheek in rivulets. "Aegon is with her now. Physically she is unharmed." Aemond nodded and with one hand wrapped under Y/N's legs to support her, and the other cradling her head to his chest protectively, he strode from the room in the direction of his quarters. Y/N's sniffles, as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her sobs, wrenched at his heart strings as they passed along the halls of the Red Keep.

He stroked her hair soothingly and tilted his head down to whisper softly.

"I know, little one. I'm taking you somewhere safe now."

All Y/N could see was red. Dark and sticky blood dripping from a dagger that glinted in the soft glow of candle light, inimical to the horrific sight before her. A gut wrenching scream pierced the quiet of the night, the rest of the inhabitants of the Red Keep still abed. She winced at the shrill sound, full of pain and anguish, before realising belatedly that it was her screaming.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur after the King's guard burst in, managing to capture one of the assailants whilst the other disappeared into the night. She was vaguely aware of someone gripping her by her arm, pulling her along hall after hall until they deposited her in another room entirely. She did not care to look around her to determine where she was or who had unceremoniously dragged her there. As soon as her arm was released her knees buckled and she fell in a heap on the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking herself, her teeth chattering and limbs trembling in her state of shock.

She felt numb and it was difficult to understand what was being said to her as all the voices around her merged together as one. When she felt hands reaching for her, tugging at her own arm, it was the hands of the assailants she felt, looking down at her own hands she felt even more alarmed to see them covered in red splodges and she could not tell if it was her own blood that drenched her skin or that of the child she had come to love, brutally murdered before her. She screamed, forcefully pushing the hands from her though they kept grabbing for her. Almost without thinking Y/N found herself shouting for Aemond. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she had a vague recollection that she shouldn't be calling for him, but she couldn't seem to remember why, so muddled and panicked was she.

"Get off me. I want Aemond. Where is he?"

She looked up briefly to see Queen Alicent's large doe eyes staring at her sadly, but the faces of several men had her heart picking up in fright as she thrashed against their hold. What did they want from her? Try as she might she couldn't make out their words through her fear.

The only thought she could hold onto for long was that if Aemond were here they wouldn't dare to touch her against her will. He would help her, protect her as he always had. And his name came from her lips unbidden again.

Only a few moments later a cacophony of sounds outside the room made her wince. First pounding footsteps followed by a voice that boomed and echoed across the hall outside, then the clanging of metal signalling the movement of the guards. Y/N was breathing heavily, exhausted from her efforts to prise the insistent hands from her person, and she felt herself becoming limp. The colours in the room, of the golden flames before her and the deep russet rug beneath her converging until once again all she saw was red. Red so dark it must be blood and she could not determine whether it was real or not. She remained frozen in her horror until she felt a light touch against her shoulder, gentler than the others had been but nonetheless terrifying. Jerking backwards with a shriek, she was relieved when the owner of the hand only retracted it, speaking softly to her in words she couldn't pick out at first.

"It's Aemond."

Y/N looked up quickly at the sound of his name, her senses coming back to her as she recognised both her husband's baritone and elegant features. He'd come for her just as she knew he would, as if she had summoned him with her appellation of his name.

As soon as Aemond opened his arms to her she was falling into them, clutching at him fiercely, somehow knowing through the fog still misted over her mind that he would keep her safe. That nothing would happen to her when she was in his arms.

Tears sprung from her eyes as Aemond began to stroke her hair, assuring her that no one would touch her if she didn't want them to, that he wouldn't let them. She'd started to relax the tension in her body only for it to spring up once again as in a startled animal as she heard Alicent whispering of maesters.

She dug her nails into Aemond's shoulders, clinging to him so they would have to claw her from him if they wanted her. She barely recognised her own panicked cry "No" and worried they simply couldn't understand her. That she had lost her mind and was simply speaking gibberish, and that was why they kept ignoring her pleas for them not to touch her. Perhaps Aemond wouldn't listen to her either.

She needn't have worried. Aemond's voice was a steady anchor as he resolutely ordered the maesters away from her again, suddenly rising to stand and lifting her up with him. She quickly wrapped her arms and legs around him, not caring who saw or if they judged her for her behaviour, only pressing her face into Aemond's perpetually warm shoulder and trying to stifle her cries. She felt sick from crying, her stomach aching and she just wished for the tears to stop flowing so she could make sense of what was happening.

"I know little one, I'm taking you somewhere safe now."

Hearing his pet name for her spoken so tenderly she only cried harder, warmth and a brief sensation of security washing over her despite how scared and confused she felt.

By the time Aemond reached their chambers, Y/N's sobs had dwindled and she'd fallen silent. If it were not for the tension he could feel in her frame and her tight grip on his shoulders he'd almost think she had fallen asleep. In some ways her silence was more disturbing to him, for he could not tell what horrors plagued her mind that left her unable to voice them.

Kicking open the door and closing it behind them, trying not to jostle Y/N too much, he crossed the room and tried to place Y/N down into his armchair so he might collect some supplies he would need to treat her hands. She only clung to him tighter and he had to gently but firmly tug her arms from around his neck. "Just for a moment, my love. I won't leave you."

She let him place her down at his assurance but he could feel the heat of her stare on his back as her eyes followed his every movement as he fumbled around various drawers for what he needed. Placing the bandages, a bowl of water, and ointment he used for any cuts and scrapes he gained from training on a table, he lifted Y/N back into his arms before settling her on his lap,  wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"I am sorry to ask it of you. But will you allow me to treat your hand, my love? It may sting a little but it is necessary."

Y/N looked inquisitively down at her own hands as if surprised to see the gash that ran across her palm, turning her head away quickly with a sharp intake of breath.

"The blood, Aemond. I can't look at it. I don't know if it's mine or the child's."

Aemond felt his heart falter. He could only imagine what his sweet and gentle wife had borne witness too, pain tearing through him for her, for his sister and for his nephew who he'd loved. He tried to focus on the fact that Y/N needed him and that this was the most she had managed to speak to him, and the most she had sounded like herself.

"You do not need to look, love."

Nodding minutely with a grimace, Y/N pressed her face into his chest, going limp in his arms as she allowed him to take her smaller hands in his own so he could assess the damage. The gash was large and had bled a lot already, but he let out a sigh of relief to see that it was not deep and had already stopped bleeding, though it looked alarming. He took a cloth and wet it with water before starting to clean the blood from Y/N's hands, routinely pressing soft kisses to the top of her head and whispered apologies as she squirmed slightly under his ministrations. He tried to be as gentle as possible, wishing more than anything not to hurt her, but knowing he had to clean the wound before any infection could take hold.

Her voice sounded so soft and quiet and vacant to his ears, like that of a ghost.

"You'll get blood on your hands." Aemond already felt there was blood on his hands borne from his actions but did not voice that fear to Y/N. He only replied "It does not matter" before taking the ointment next and methodically rubbed it over the gash, finally wrapping it with the bandages. Once he was satisfied, he brought her hand to his lips to press a tender kiss upon it.

"You did so well, my love. There is no more blood, you can look know."

Y/N withdrew from his chest to look down upon her hands, and Aemond noted that where before her eyes had seemed misted over and unseeing, likely due to shock, they were now focused and he thought she had started to come back to herself.

"I'm sorry." Her soft whisper shook him from his observations. He couldn't understand what Y/N would have to be sorry for.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Y/N shook her head frantically.

"I couldn't stop it. I tried...but they killed the babe anyway."

"Y/N No..."

She interrupted him, her words spilling from her mouth fast and filled with despair.

"I grabbed the knife from the tall one, clawed at him, I'm sure I left scratches on his face, but he just threw me aside like it made no difference at all. And now the little boy is dead. A son for a son they said."

Aemond fought to keep his own breathing steady, to maintain a facade of composure he didn't feel but knew Y/N needed to believe to stay calm herself. He felt anger pulsing within him in the knowledge that someone had hurt his wife and he'd not been there to defend her. Her words resounded in his mind. 'A son for a son.' He knew then what he'd feared from the moment the guard had told him of the attack. This was his fault. Not just because he'd foolishly and selfishly left his wife unprotected. But because he'd let his temper rule him on the day he'd flown to Storm's End, the day he'd killed Lucerys Velaryon. This act of violence was sown by his hands, the vengeance of The Blacks. His eyes flitted to his own hands, half expecting them to be drenched in blood. Luke's blood. Jahaerys' blood.

"Y/N look at me."

Her beautiful eyes bore into his own at his firm command and he kissed her forehead, wrapping both his arms around her now they were no longer preoccupied with bandaging her wound.

"Ñuha nedenka rina. You acted admirably. I will not have you blame yourself. This is my fault. Mine and mine alone."

Y/N ignored his attempts to reclaim the blame, seeming unable to stay on one line of thought for very long. He thought this must be her mind's way of coping.

"What does that mean?"

He assumed she meant the Valyrian. She'd told him once that she found the sound of it soothing and had hoped it would do so now.

"It means 'my brave girl.'"

Y/N slowly lowered herself to rest her head against his chest again her delicate fingers tracing the intricate designs of his brocade.

"You came when I called." Aemond was once again surprised by he turn of their conversation, his eye widening as he gazed down at her.

"Of course, I always will."

"Even though I shouted at you, and told you I wanted separate chambers, and said horrible things to you."

Aemond was surprised by Y/N's directness as she seemed to have fully come back to the present, remembering their disagreement. He quickly interrupted her ramblings.

"Always. Besides, you had every right to be angry with me. This is all my fault" Aemond dropped his gaze, unable to look Y/N in the eyes through his guilt.

"I don't blame you."

He met her gaze oncemore. Unable to believe that he'd heard her correctly.

"What?"

"I said that I don't blame you."

"But I caused all of this with my actions, and then left you unprotected..."

Y/N interrupted him then, pressing her hands to his face.

"You would never have done this. Not if it had been the other way around. I am right about that, aren't I?"

Y/N's expression was full of desperation and silent pleading.

Aemond pressed his hands against hers, holding them in place.

"You are right. It is an act of depravity I had never thought Rhaenyra capable of. It is something I could never do."

Y/N sagged against him, dropping her hands from his face to rest them against his chest as she let her head fall onto his shoulder.

"I know it."

His heart clenched as he felt wet droplets against his neck, and Y/N's body shake with the renewal of her tears. His own voice cracked with emotion. He wished he could take all of the pain and misery she felt from her.

"What can I do?"

"Just hold me." And so he did. Wrapping his arms around her, Aemond held her until her breathing evened out and she fell into a restless sleep. She woke regularly throughout the night, always with him there to reassure her of where she was, that he was there, and that he would not allow anyone to harm her.

Something about being in Aemond's chambers again calmed the frantic beating of Y/N's heart as she focused on it's familiarity, along with the steady rhythm of Aemond's own heart as she laid against his chest. Realising that the red covering her hands was in fact real and not a figment of her imagination almost sent her over the edge again, and it was only Aemond's reassurance that she didn't need to look as he tenderly attended to her wound himself that she was able to get a grip on herself. As he cleaned and bandaged the gash on her hand, the fog that had befuddled her senses and left her feeling confused as to what was happening around her began to diminish. She remembered how she'd injured her hand in the first place, trying to forcibly wrench the assailant's knife away from Helaena, though it did no good at all and the memories that suddenly came flooding like a dam bursting in her mind had her burying herself further into Aemond's tunic in an attempt to smother them.

Aemond. Now she remembered why she had a strange sense that she shouldn't be calling for him to rescue her. She remembered how they'd fought over Luke, how she'd asked him to stay away from her, pushed him away time and time again, and just stopped short of calling him a monster.

And yet he'd still come running when she'd called. Y/N realised she couldn't feel angry with Aemond for Luke's death any longer. It had been an accident and in truth she knew she would have forgiven Aemond eventually for she loved him, more than she thought it possible to love someone. She also could not pretend she had not observed a certain lust for vengeance within him, one that she felt she could now at last understand. She had loved Jahaerys almost as if he were her own child, and for the first time in her life she wished to inflict pain, on whoever had ordered the atrocity.  She wanted justice for Helaena, though she knew there was no vengeance that could erase the trauma they would both now share, of losing a beloved child. Y/N didn't know how to deal with the pressing grief she now felt since her mind had cleared enough for her to regain her grip on reality and she almost wished she had gone mad, just so she wouldn't have to feel as if her heart had been replaced by a gaping wound that continued to bleed out.

"What can I do?" Y/n hated to hear how pained Aemond's voice was, like that of a wounded animal.

"Just hold me"

Feeling Aemond's arms around her somehow made the pain lessen and Y/N had the sense that in a way he was holding her together.

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[a-b-riddle]

Sins of the Father

cw: shifter romance. A/B/O dynamics. Angst. Grovel. Hurt/comfort. Sick children. Loss of parents. Last name mentioned for reader (sorry but they have to call her something). I’ll add more if I think of any. I’m back in my wattpad era. cringe. Reader is early to mid twenties. Related to story sorry :(

pairings: poly141 x OFC

Summary: For seven years you have lived as an outcast in your own pack. Shunned, you had to make due to ensure not only your own survival but your younger sister’s as well. Now, after years of failing to shift and being labeled as broken, the connection that the gods had chosen for you clicks into place. Much to uour dismay, it’s not only person who sentenced you to exile, but his three betas as well.

There were two rules above all else in your world:

1) Don’t disobey the Alpha.

2) Don’t sneak off packlands.

Since there was a direct order from Alpha Price to stay in the territory, you were breaking both. But the alphahole was twisting your arm at this point. It was either obey him and let Rosie die or say fuck it and she might be able to fight the infection.

Rosie 13 months old when your mother went missing. Four months later, your father had challenged Price. His wounds had been fatal and the consequence for his betrayal had fallen upon you and Rosie. She was still a baby and you were still a child yourself. But you guess the daughters were meant to pay for the sins of their father.

And Rosie had paid nearly all of her life for what your father had done. No medical aid given. Your monthly rations were whatever was leftover. Year after year the rations had dwindled down to the point where it wasn’t enough to sustain you both through a quarter of the way through the winter.

You had learned long ago that being a part of a pack didn’t make you part of the pack. Which was why you had to rely on trading with the humans in order to get medicine and non-perishable goods.

Tonight was the night before the run. No one except border patrol would be out and no one keeps tabs on what happens to the Blackburn girls. No one would be looking out for the pack’s pariah at this time of night.

You couldn’t breathe easy until your cottage came into view. You were thankful that you were so far away from the rest of the pack and remained at the edge of the border. The five mile trek had been taken down to a little over two.

Rosie was still tucked in bed just as she had been the last two days. The cold cloth on her forehead no doubt warm now. She stirred awake as the door creaked shut behind you. “Sissy?” Her voice rasped, sounding more like old hag than a 9-year-old girl.

“Hey Rosie Posey,” You greeted softly as you pulled the pill bottle from your backpack. “Miss Oliver says hi. Hopes to see you soon.”

Miss Oliver was a doctor that you had met years ago. Anytime Rosie got too sick for you to handle, you sought her out. She had always been willing to help. Even given the difference in species.

Rosie took the medicine without fuss and settled back into bed after offering a quiet, “thank you.”

You put away the supplies you had gotten. After changing out of your sweaty clothes, you had washed off with a basin of water and a rag in the corner of the room. The fire had now dwindled down to glowing embers.

You laid down next to her and almost by instinct, her body moved closer to yours. No doubt seeking any warmth she could.

It was hard. Having maternal feelings for a child who was meant to be your sibling. Having to become a mother before you really got the chance to be a sister.

You were just grateful she was still here.

It was moments like this when the hate you had for Price and the pack left your body body. When Rosie’s breathing becomes clear and her skin doesn’t burn beneath your touch. Where for just a moment you don’t live a crumbling shack. You feel safe and the worries of tomorrow escape you.

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Epilogue, Acknowledgments and Requests)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fell into the clutches of his nemesis, before stumbling into the arms of the Radio Demon himself. A whole lot of fucking later, you became the catalyst for something resembling a reconciliation, and now you're back in the TV Demon's private quarters with both Vox and Alastor, hung over and sore. 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, Vox X reader, Alastor X reader, Vox X Alastor, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Now completed! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The thing about Hell was that your internal body clock woke you after only a couple hours of sleep, just enough of the alcohol out of your system that your head throbbed and the rich bittersweet taste of last night’s whiskey had been transmuted with the alchemy of the morning after, the interior of your mouth now tasting of rancid orange peel and dirt. You lay splayed across the couch, Alastor’s tailcoat covering your nakedness, its red unmarred by the blood it had soaked up, your head in Alastor’s lap, your hooves in Vox’s lap.

Consciousness brought with it the awareness of the various injuries you had acquired, the fullness of your bladder, and the generalized muscular ache that was probably from all the wall-climbing you’d done. You were also filthy, your whole body faintly sticky like a budding rhododendron. You moved to get up, but found Alastor’s arm around you.

“-very dear to me,” mumbled Alastor, the radio filter almost entirely missing from his hoarse, sleepy voice, and his claws wrapped around your shoulder, hard.

“Darling. I have to piss,” you croaked, stroking Alastor’s fingers, and he gave a noise of irritation, his red eyes opening a fraction, but his grip loosened and you pulled yourself free.

Brushing away Alastor’s shadow’s hand as it snagged at your hoof, you staggered naked across Vox’s small living space, to where you remembered the bathroom to be, and took a piss that felt like it lasted at least a minute and a half, your head throbbing all the while. The things that Vox had brought for you during your short stay were still there; the little blue toothbrush, the showercap with room for your ears, the robe.

You brushed your teeth, drank several cups of water from the tap, and ate a Tylenol before grabbing the bottle of deer shampoo from the cabinet and stepping into the shower.

Vox’s shower was large, enough to comfortably fit three or more people, the flooring some kind of expensive looking stone tiling that was probably fiendishly difficult to get blood out of, and the showerheads set at chest height. You hesitated at the shower controls- which button turned the water on, again?

“You, uh- you want some help with that?” Vox stood at the entryway to the shower, wearing only pants and looking pretty much exactly like you felt.

“Sure,” you sighed, not really surprised when Vox stripped off the rest of the way and stepped into the space with you.

A gesture from him was all it took for the water to start running, no uncomfortably hot or cold initial flow but something close to body temperature. You stepped into the stream, sighing as it hit you, the water swirling a brownish color around your feet as it began to wash away the blood that had caked onto your skin.

“Temperature?” Vox asked, stepping closer.

“Warmer,” you said, an involuntary noise in your throat as Vox made it so. It stung the lacerations on your back, the small wounds on your hips and thighs, the scrapes that Alastor’s teeth had made on your neck.

“You like that?” Vox asked.

“Warmer,” you repeated, and the temperature rose to something crueler, enough that steam rose as it hit your skin, a truly scouring sort of heat. You felt your soreness recede, a little of the tension in your shoulders relaxing. “There,” you said, content to stand under the water for a few moments before uncapping the shampoo you had brought in with you.

“Let me?” Vox asked, and there was a little of the Vox who had sat in the armchair in your bedroom in his voice, pleading. You handed him the bottle, and he unhooked a second showerhead from the wall and turned it on, wetting your hair with a trickle of warm water before he lathered shampoo between his palms. It was strange; anyone else save Alastor and you might’ve had second thoughts, but Vox had had you last night, quivering and vulnerable in his hands, so you had no qualms turning your back to him.

Vox’s hands in your hair were a gift. You stood under the stream of near-scalding water as he drew close, his fingers running from the back of your neck and up, fingers parting your hair, massaging the lather into your skull. You groaned low as he worked the base of each ear, his body pressing closer to your back. He was hard, his cock brushing up against your tail and the small of your back, but there was no threat to it, no intent beyond simple closeness.

“That good, eh?” he asked, as you gave another appreciative grunt, and you braced yourself against the wall to avoid melting completely under the touch.

“You’re making me forget about my headache,” you said, which was rewarded by Vox pressing his fingers more firmly against your skull, more head massage than shampoo application. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“It is five fuckin’ thirty am,” said Vox, his voice thick and hoarse, and he leaned into you, his chest pressing warm against your narrow back, his erection squashing temptingly against the meat of your ass. “I’m all yours, baby deer.”

It would be so easy to let him fuck you like this- even as hungover as he clearly was, he was strong enough to lift you against the wall of the shower and fuck you against it until you were whimpering and quivering, your orgasm smoothing the edges of this rough and difficult morning. It would feel good.

But no. No fucking. Only Vox’s soapy hands in your hair, rubbing your back-tilted ears until you wanted to purr, his thumbs experimental around the base of your antlers. He told you to close your eyes before he raised the spare showerhead to rinse you off, the water dark, even the soap bubbles brownish as the blood was sluiced away. Vox repeated the process twice more before the water ran clear, finger combing your hair to check for errant viscera.

“I don’t need you to wash my back for me, you know,” you said, as Vox put the shampoo aside and reached for the bodywash.

“Course you don’t,” he said, eyes narrowed, and for a second his grin reminded you of Alastor’s. “But you fuckin’ like it, don’t you? You like my hands-” he said, rubbing soap into your flank, then tracing a line down, over your thigh. “My mouth.”

You opened one eye. “I hope you’re not proposing to lick me clean.”

The glazed expression on Vox’s face, along with the way his antennae flopped, told you that yes, yes he would very much like that, his gaze drifting to between your thighs, the faint trickle of Alastor’s cum mixed with his as it leaked out of you and mixed with the water from the shower.

Vox swallowed. “Please,” he groaned. “Fuck, please, baby deer. Just a little. Don’t make me fuckin’ beg.”

“I’m not making you do anything, Vox,” you said, a sidelong look at him. The steam from the shower was fogging his screen, droplets of the splashback running down the front of his wide face like sweat, and his eyes were wide. “You’re begging of your own accord.”

You put your palm on Vox’s grey-skinned shoulder and pushed him down. He sank to his knees, obedient, the water on your back slowing to a trickle, still under his control. His eyes weren’t hearts but they might as well have been with the expression he made as he reached out to touch your thighs, pulling his face close to your legs, his long blue tongue extending.

Vox’s tongue against wet skin was a new sensation; a crackling pressure that conducted over a wider area than his tongue touched as he lapped blissfully at the rivulets of diluted cum that ran out of you. You shivered, and breathed in as you watched him eat, running a hand over the top of his screen, your claws gentle on the fragile antennae that sprouted from it.

Vox whimpered as you held the tip of his antennae between thumb and fingertip, and it occurred to you, belatedly, that maybe these were analogous to antlers for him. You stopped touching them, returning to stroking his frame. His hand found yours, your fingers twining, and you knew that if you asked him he would fuck you with his tongue, lap every last drop of Alastor’s seed from your aching cunt and drink it down like a man starved.

“Please-” he whined, looking up at you between strokes of his tongue.

“You know,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Alastor has very sharp hearing, and he was mostly awake when I got up. He can definitely hear us right now.” You paused to take a breath as you felt Vox freeze, his tongue still on your thigh. “He definitely heard you begging me to let you lick his cum from my legs.”

Vox’s eyes fluttered closed, a low groan in his throat. “Fuck.”

“Tell me,” you said, pushing him a little as his tongue swept up your leg, perilously close to your sex. “Tell me what you’re begging for now.”

Vox’s voice came as a stream of consciousness as you squeezed the top of his screen, hard enough that colors distorted around the pads of your fingers, his breath in gasps as he tasted you between each word, a prayer to you, a prayer to Alastor. “Fuck, yes, please, I fucking want it, oh god, fucking god, let me, let me, please please, let me taste him. I wanna taste him in your pussy, oh god.” He swallowed, whimpering, cock finding friction against your leg, and he trembled. “God-” Vox’s eyes sprang open as he came, his body jerking as he shot his load over your hooves. “Fuck-” he breathed, softly, his screen tilting against your thigh.

You were gentle with him as you pulled him to his feet, letting him lean against you as he came down from his high. You rubbed his back, his shoulders, and the edges of his screen, eliciting soft groans from him, and he nudged his face into your shoulder before you grabbed the soap and started to lather it into his chest.

As if realizing where he was, Vox started the water running at full pressure again. When you had finished him he washed your back for you without complaint, merely a pleading look in his eyes as he scrubbed you down, the runoff going from dark brown to pink as the ablution opened a few of your newer injuries, his hands gentle enough on you to make you sigh and forget your hangover for another few seconds.

When you emerged from the bathroom, toweled dry and dressed in the monogrammed robe Vox had kept for you, you felt almost alive.

“You were in there a while,” Alastor commented from the couch as you emerged, one eye opening, his voice rough and crackling like old vinyl.

“You didn’t want to join us?” you asked, squeezing a little more moisture from your hair.

Alastor shrugged, his lips a tiny smirk. “You seemed to have everything under control,” he said, a statement not lost on Vox, who did not meet his eyes.

Vox’s arm was protective round your waist, or perhaps simply clingy, as the three of you proceeded out of his quarters and into the living area he shared with the other members of his coterie. You sat at the breakfast bar as Vox operated what was perhaps the most complicated coffee machine you had ever seen. Alastor took a seat at the breakfast bar too, his tailcoat on, overdressed compared to you in a robe and Vox in his lounge pants and t-shirt. Alastor’s shadow looked more hung over than he was, sulking in a pool by his feet and clutching its head. Vox seemed to have some level of sympathy for his condition, because he turned to Alastor first.

“So, Al, you want anything? This baby makes a mean fuckin’ macchiato, I’ll tell you that much. We’ve got three types of coffee, too, a Columbian-”

“Coffee,” said Alastor, a grinding edge of almost mechanical stress to his voice. “Make me a coffee.”

Vox sighed. “Americano it is,” he said, setting the machine running with a cheerful beep as he manipulated his way through the menus.

Alastor was sniffing his americano and the expensive looking machine was grinding something in its innards when the door on the lower level opened and a small group of people came in, clearly still mid revelry, brightly colored plastic drink containers in hand. You recognized one of them as the man who had dumped you on Vox’s bedroom floor on your first night in Hell, dressed to the nines in patent leather thigh high boots and a naked effect body-stocking with red sequins that barely covered the essentials. Valentino.

“Ah.” Vox froze with one hand on the coffee machine. “Fuck.”

“Vox?” Valentino’s tone was disbelieving, and he sashayed up the stairs to the breakfast bar to stare at the three of you, lowering his pink glasses dramatically. “What the fuck is this?”

“Val.” Vox hopped the breakfast bar with surprising alacrity, placing himself bodily between you and Valentino, his hands up in a placating gesture. It was unnecessary, all things considered, but sexy. “I can explain.”

Alastor, meanwhile, lowered his ears and hid his face behind his fuck Alastor mug, clearly uncomfortable at being witnessed in Vox’s residence at such an early hour.

“So this is where you’ve been?” Valentino gesticulated. “You don’t take my calls, you say you don’t wanna party with me, all so you can stay home and jerk off onto your pile of Alastor lookalikes?” He turned to Alastor, the real Alastor, his eyes squinting behind his pink glasses. “Where did you even get this one? He looks like shit!”

“Gotta agree with you there,” you deadpanned. “Not a word of English either.”

“Bonjou,” said Alastor, gamely, his voice gruff with the full impact of his night of drinking, his radio filter completely absent.

“You see?” Valentino waved. “You want more Alastors, chulo, you come to me. None of this amateur hour carajo.” He shook his head. “Me and these professionals are going to my room.”

“Val, wait-” Vox called, but Valentino was already on his way out. He stopped, perhaps realizing the futility of it, and rubbed the front of his face with his hand. “Fuck.”

“Is that-” you watched Valentino walk out, shooing the squad of sex workers through the door ahead of him so that he could slam it. “-is that gonna be okay?”

“Fuck knows.” Vox’s shoulders sank, and he walked back to the coffee machine. “It’s hard to tell what he wants sometimes. I mean, first he gives me you, then he’s pissy I’m spending time with you. Does he want me to chase after him? I don’t fucking know anymore.” The machine finished making your drink, and Vox picked it up, vanishing in electricity and arcing to appear behind you. “I know what you want, though,” he purred, his face close enough to your back that the hairs on your neck stood on end, and pushed your coffee in front of you.

You turned your head to grin at him, eyes half-lidded. “A full and unredacted list of the members of my fanclub still extant in Hell?”

“Fuck.” Vox’s expression soured, and he leaned back. “You're all business, aren't you? You know, I preferred it when you were pretending to be stupid.”

“And I preferred it when you had your tongue up my ass,” you said, enjoying the instant of startlement and arousal that flashed across his screen, Alastor smirking into his cup of coffee behind him. “I guess we’re just not our best selves this morning.”

“I liked that too, but I can't just hand you those names, baby deer,” said Vox, leaning on the breakfast bar beside you. “That's not how business works around here. It's about trust.”

“He’s lying,” Alastor interjected, mildly. “He could give you whatever it is you’re talking about, he just doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, butt out, Al,” groused Vox. “I’m not lying. There’s a cost.”

“One which you could well afford to waive,” said Alastor, smiling. “Given our situation.”

“Yeah, and what situation is that?” Vox shot.

He was unprepared as Alastor stood, closing the distance between them and seizing Vox by the front of his shirt, bringing their faces close, not quite touching, but close enough to kiss, or bite. Vox made a noise in his throat, and Alastor grinned, violence in his teeth.

“If you want this to continue,” said Alastor, his voice low menace. “You’re going to have to give our delightful young friend here everything they want. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what it costs you. Everything.”

“Fuck,” Vox croaked, his eyes wide.

“Well?” said Alastor. “Do we have a deal?”

“This isn’t fair, Al.”

Alastor’s grin was steady. “These things rarely are. Yes or no, old pal?”

“Shit, I’m such a fucking idiot.” Vox closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Alastor set Vox down gently, a sly wink to you as he did so, then stalked his way over to you, taking a small sip from your coffee cup before winding an arm around your waist and burying his face in your hair.

Vox looked at the both of you with something approaching dismay. “He likes you way too much, baby deer,” he said, shaking his head. “Way, way too much.”

Alastor just laughed, his nose pressing against your neck.

The following list is all of the people without whom this work would not exist in its present form; who cheered for me, who reassured me, who pointed out where my phrasing was awkward, and all in all encouraged me to go the whole hog and not just the tip. Thank you for putting up with me and my incessant self-aggrandizing wank and telling me, each in your own way, that the dog exploded.

Bapple Fraugwinska Macabre Barbie Miggy Katethulu Rein Miz blue Molly Anne

The others in the discord server for whom I do not have an ao3 or tumblr account

Special thanks to Shunypie/Shunyhuny who drew fanart (holy shit I am still absolutely fucking floored by this, it's so beautiful)

My final acknowledgment goes to everyone else who read this and thought it was hot, love you guys. Your comments feed me, your likes sustain me.

Though my planned procession of porn is past its climax, I am still open to penning vignettes about the lookalike and set in the lookalike’s timeline. If you have an idea or request, please post a comment here, or if you fancy remaining anonymous, you can use my inbox at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/impale-me-radio-daddy

Regretfully, I do not take commissions (I can’t think of an amount of money that would be worth the expression of confusion and fear from my accountant) so all requests will be undertaken at my own discretion.

Until next time, dear readers.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi!!

Could you find Sterek fics where Derek is multilingual or know Polish language?

Hola Anon! Si, tengo mucho.

Five Times Derek Failed To Tell Stiles How He Feels (+1 Time Stiles Knew Anyway) by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 3,338 I Teen)

Stiles grins, impish and proud, and scrabbles at another piece of his notebook. Derek is determined to ignore it - he really is, but Stiles’ legs are longer than they might seem and his reach includes the front leg of Derek’s chair.

He sighs, put-upon, and unfolds the note,

Wanna go steady w/ me? Y[ ] or Y[ ]

you know you're on my mind by bibliosexual

(9/9 I 16,371 I Teen)

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

I'm a War of Head Versus Heart by NieR

(5/5 I 23,091 I Explicit)

Being FWB with Derek Hale is great. Awesome, even.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, Stiles thinks he might have fallen in love.

And, well, shit.

Two Minutes for Holding by captaintinymite (augopher)

(18/18 I 121,498 I Explicit)

There were three things college hockey players Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski knew for certain. 1) Their lives revolved around hockey, 2) They were madly in love, and 3) Derek was so far in the closet he might never find his way out.

They'd been together for two years now, and for two years they'd been a secret with only a few people knowing about them. Yet Derek's fear kept them from moving forward: fear of his family's rejection, fear of his sexuality tanking his father's career, fear of the rampant homophobia in professional sports. The ruse was growing thin.

Something had to give.

Or: The story of how one epic NCAA Championship run and college, served as the backdrop for some of life's great hardships.

AND

@barleymowetc suggested this fic.

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

(31/31 I 203,706 I Mature I Sterek)

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

[m1lflov3rrr]

Can’t Help Falling in Love (With You, Over and Over Again)

Pairing: Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: none, just heartwarming fluff <3

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: You were away for a year, and thought you’d surprise your wife at the night of the Rave’n…

A/N: Hello loves, so so sorry for being inactive!! I’ve been very busy with school, but I am writing one of your requests at the moment :))

You were nervous, to say the least. 

It had been exactly one year since you saw her. 

Let us rewind a bit, shall we? 

You had been together with your wife, the formidable Larissa Weems, for 8 years. And tonight was the night of your anniversary, when you got engaged. It was on this day, exactly 9 years ago that she had asked to marry you. The night of the Rave’n dance. You weren’t surprised that she had chosen this specific event for the proposal, you knew how close to Larissa’s heart the Rave’n was. You found it to be the most adorable thing ever. 

And tonight was the night of the Rave’n, once again. 

You had started your own business a few years ago, a law firm. And last year it had gained an unexpectable amount of success, so much so that you had to leave her and expand the business across the country in California. 

Obviously she couldn’t have come with you, she had a school to run. 

You were glad of how supportive and understanding Larissa was, and even though she tried to keep a strong façade and pretend like she’s okay with you leaving for such a long time, you could see right through her. You knew how much your absence affected her. It sure as hell did affect you. 

But every day, you both made time in your schedules for a video call. Twice a day, every morning, every night. Asking how your days had been, updating each other on the latest events. 

And you made that system work. Although the distance was gnawing at you both, you somehow managed to make it work. 

Your business had expanded three times bigger during your stay in California, and when you finally were informed by your assistant that everything was organized for your stay to be over, that you had enough employees and that the business was thriving, you immediately booked a flight back home. 

And it was perfect, actually. You wanted to surprise her, and the Rave’n was the perfect place to do it. (And also, you couldn’t help but love dramatic entrances, as well.) 

You were sitting on the taxi, on the phone with your dear friend and your wife’s co-worker, Marilyn. You wanted to make sure everything was perfect for tonight. 

You did keep in contact with her frequently as well, asking her updates on her life, (and also asking her how Larissa’s doing, since she was pretending to be all fine when talking to you). 

Marilyn had told you, how lately the usually most modest, organized and practical woman had been more snappy and stressed than usual. And she didn’t have any extra workloads or anything, so you knew it was because of you. Because lately, you had been so busy that you were only able to call her once a day. 

It didn’t seem like a big thing or anything, surely she wouldn’t be affected by such a small change? Wrong. 

Larissa was definitely affected by it. She always had to be in order, having things to go her way and sticking to her schedule, that such a small change did, in fact, take a huge toll on her. And you felt incredibly bad about it. 

Last year, you had left the day after the Rave’n. You wanted to stay for that night, to make your last night there unforgettable. And it was only so ironic and fitting that you were coming back the exact day, tonight. And Larissa knew nothing of it. That was the best part. You loved making surprises. 

And tonight would make the greatest surprise of all. 

-

”And you’re sure she has no idea?” You asked Marilyn as you were checking yourself out on the mirror. You were in her private quarters getting ready with the redhead. 

You had a gorgeous silk gown on you that was definitely accentuating every curve on your body, paired with matching high stilettos. 

(Or, imagine your own!)

When you saw the dress on one of your shopping trips, you knew it’d be perfect for tonight. The dress was expensive, but with your now-high salary, it really didn’t matter. It was graceful, but still left little to the imagination with an open back and its tight, but comfortable fit. 

”Trust me, Y/N, the woman’s clueless. She was literally venting on me yesterday about having to spend the Rave’n completely alone. You have no idea how hard it was for me to just not spill the plan right there and then.” The redhead responded as she was putting on her black, gem earrings. 

You smiled, feeling those nervous butterflies in your stomach about what was going to happen very soon now. 

”Good.” 

”Okay, the dance starts in 15, and I have to be there early to greet the students at the entrance. You know what to do, right?” She asked as she slid on her striking red boots. 

You nodded, smiling thankfully at her in the mirror as she picked up her purse and waved you goodbye before rushing out the door. 

This was going to be one hell of a night. 

-

And before you knew it, you were standing at the entrance, waiting for your call. 

You had planned everything out perfectly. The very same song that played on the night she proposed, would start playing any moment now, and then you’d enter the venue. 

And then, sooner than you thought, that beautiful piano melody began enchanting your whole being as the doors opened. 

Wise men say…

Larissa, who was standing in the middle of the venue, frowned as she heard the music - it sounded vaguely familiar. She soon recognized it and smiled at herself, maybe a bit sentimentally, being reminded of your absence. (Or so she thought.) 

She had really been struggling lately, missing you. You were her everything, her world, her whole being. She simply didn’t know how long she could survive without you anymore, she thought she’d burst with how much she just needed you in her arms at this moment. 

Only fools rush in…

You nervously walked inside, scanning the room with your eyes. Many people were already looking at you, in awe and in surprise. They didn’t know either that the principal’s wife would make it here tonight. 

The children had grown to love you over the years as you naturally hung out a lot at the Academy. 

Several gasps could be heard across the room, causing Larissa’s attention to divert to the doors. 

And she saw you. 

And her entire world froze. 

But I can’t help…

Was she dreaming? Did she have a fever? Was she really missing you that much that she had started seeing things? Imagining things? 

But her racing thoughts were interrupted as you gracefully walked over to her, cupping her cheeks with your hands. 

”Hello, my love.” 

And at hearing your voice, feeling your touch, she realized that it was all real. That you were real. 

You saw how her eyes began glistening with unshed tears, and an almost inaudible sound, barely above a whisper came out from her lips; 

”Darling…” 

Falling in love with you. 

And her hands practically flew to the back of your neck, pulling you close and connecting your lips after all this time. 

And it was so magical, and the whole room had their eyes on you. Everything was perfect. 

You smiled in content against her lips, glad to be home again. 

”I missed you so much, Rissa. You have no idea. May I have this dance?” You whispered, watching how a single tear was running down her cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb as you placed another loving kiss on her lips. 

And your wife seemed to still be so incredibly shocked, that all she could mutter out was a rushed; ”Always.” 

Oh, take my hand… 

She pulled you into the warmest hug you’d ever been in as you began swaying to the music, everyone else in the room gathered in a large circle around you two, admiring your moment and the unconditional love that was now felt by everyone in the dance. 

Take my whole life too…

Larissa buried her face in your neck, breathing in your familiar scent and sighing with relief, you were at last, back where you were supposed to be. In her arms. 

”Don’t you ever leave me for that long again.” She whispered to your ear, causing you to grin widely as you turned your gaze to meet hers. 

For I can’t help… 

”I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll never, ever leave you again. Cross my heart.” You whispered back, sealing it with a kiss. 

Falling in love with you. 

[goldennika]

RUN AWAY REMIX LET’S GOOOOO

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (9)

***

"And how," Silco says, looking unimpressed by the contraption in Vander's hands, "are you going to build anything with that?"

"I'm not. " Vander turns it over. The box is missing a crank and two of the curved speakers are dented. "But Banzo might be able to get it to work. Felicia was just saying that the mess hall could use some music."

"She suggested a fiddle or guitar. Not a glorified music box."

"Yeah, well, music's music," Vander replies, carefully placing it in the bag slung over his shoulder. He follows Silco down the dark riverbank, working their way towards the bridge and the fishing trawlers moored further up.

It's a compromise of sorts. Vander agreed to help Silco salvage and attempt to repair the abandoned shed, but only if Silco agreed to make time for them to eat every night.

("That's your condition?" Silco had asked as if Vander was some sort of idiot, as if he could have extorted far more for a few hours' labour each night. "You get mean when you're hungry," Vander replied and it startled a smile out of Silco, and an amused, "I'm always mean.")

It's slow going. Some nights, there's nothing usable washed ashore. Last night, they spent hours carrying a solid wooden chest back down to the mine, and then they had to pull it apart to fit in through Silco's secret entrance.

The abandoned shed has a roof, a frame and a door but three quarters of the walls are missing. They have a hammer and a crowbar, but it's time consuming to pull things apart without destroying the wood. And using old nails to attach it can be frustrating when they bend at any lopsided strike.

The one upside of their meagre supplies is that they usually run out of nails or wood, long before the dorm curfew. Sometimes, they sit in the half-finished building and talk. Sometimes they'll return to the mess hall for the last hour, Vander will have a drink or two while Felicia and Connol joke about what's kept them busy.

Tonight, Silco made a face when Vander suggested the mess hall, so they're sitting in the dirt with their backs against the one finished wall. It's a nonsense conversation, discussing the worst desserts in the mess hall, but Silco keeps dragging two fingers along Vander's thigh, back and forth. Silco keeps gesturing with his other hand, trying to capture the terrible texture of a sloppy rice pudding, and all Vander can think of is those fingertips sliding over his leg.

Vander's not even sure Silco realises he's doing it.

They kissed in the mine, but it was only that once. There have been other moments – standing by a moonlit river, light catching the soaring curve of Silco's cheekbones or looking at each other in victory when they finally drag another piece down here – but Silco always seems… wary. Like he's expecting Vander to pounce on him.

And then Silco will relax and forget himself, and lean into Vander or drape an arm around his shoulders or curve his fingers around Vander's neck. Or like tonight he'll lean back against Vander, head tilted up as they talk, and fingers trailing Vander's thigh. Vander can't tell if it's a challenge or a test.

When he places one large hand over Silco's, pinning Silco's palm against his leg, Silco tenses and sits up straight. He turns to watch Vander; his hand doesn't even try to pull away.

Vander leans in, mesmerised by Silco's blue eyes. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs but he doesn't expect Silco to laugh loudly at him. It breaks the mood. "What?"

"You're not the first miner to offer to buy me a meal for sex. You don't need to…" Silco shakes his head, waving one hand through the air. "I've just been waiting for you to collect."

For a second, the idea of Silco with other people fills Vander with scarlet-bright rage, but aSilco doesn't use his looks in the mines, he doesn't flirt and smile at the men around him. Silci walks through the mine glaring and scowling, daring anyone to be stupid enough to approach him. He might have had offers, sure, but Vander's sure he had no trouble refusing.

"Really?" Vander asks, leaning in to rest his cheek against Silco's. "You've just been waiting for me?"

Silco betrays himself with a small gasp and Vander presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to the edge of Silco's jaw. He follows the line of Silco's narrow jaw, pressing kisses to the dusty skin until he reaches Silco's mouth, and licks along those delicate lips.

Silco grabs a fistful of Vander's hair and drags him closer, licking past Vander's teeth. They keep kissing like that, deep and dirty, until Silco makes a frustrated sound and climbs over Vander's lap. That works even better. No more twisting his head down to kiss and when he wraps hands around Silco's hips and drags him closer, he can feel Silco growing harder with each kiss.

Vander's toying with the buttons on Silco's hips, starting to tug the fabric free when Silco pulls back and says, "Curfew."

"Huh?"

"Dorm curfew," Silco says, scrambling away from him. "We've got to go or they'll lock us out for the night."

They quickly stack tools out of sight and Silco leads them back through the tunnels, through the mine and across the courtyard to the dorms.

Vander finds his bunk in the dark, unbuckling his clothes by feel.

"Just friends, huh?" Benzo teases in the dark. Vander ignore him entirely.

***

[anon-e-miss]

At Waiting's End 8 - A Crowded Room

“Y’re worried,” Jazz sat next to Prowl on the berth. Smokescreen was already recharging, safe and snug in the cot that magnetized to Prowl’s side of the berth.

“Why would he have a friend in Iacon?” Prowl asked. “What sort of friend would he have?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz said. “Y’re ori... that comm o’ his. He was a spy, right?”

“That is correct,” Prowl replied.

“I suppose that explains why ya was so at ease wit Ops,” Jazz said.

“In part,” Prowl replied. “Mostly, I was at ease with you.”

“I wish ya’d told me what Chromedome’d done,” Jazz told him. “I understand why ya wouldn’t want to talk about it. The pain ‘n the shame.”

“I wanted to pretend it had not happened,” Prowl was honest with his lover. “If I pretended long enough, maybe I would just forget.”

“He ain’t gonna trouble ya again,” Jazz promised. “Even if I can’t get’em in Garrus 9 for what he’s done, I can get’m at least transferred far, far away. Somewhere cold ‘n miserable.”

“I just hope Originator has not gone to finish what he started,” Prowl sighed and he leaned on Jazz’s shoulder. “He has always been protective of me.”

“He loves ya,” Jazz told him.

“I think he poured all the love he had for the bitlet stolen as well as the love he had for me, into me,” Prowl said. “Educators, the procreators of students, his own commanders, they all learned to fear him when I was the subject of conversation.”

“I’m glad ya had ‘m,” Jazz replied. “I’m glad ya had’m to go home to.”

It was impossible not to worry. Camshaft was as expert at his craft as Jazz was but he had a fierce temper where Prowl was concerned. Prowl himself had never been victim of it, no, it had always been in his defence. Even if his originator did not leave a trace, given their altercation, Camshaft would certainly be a prime suspect if Chromedome came to harm. Ironhide had advised Camshaft keep away from the base for a time, as stories of his run in with Chromedome, Brainstorm and Perceptor. In just a few joors, he had become something of a boogeymech. Prowl was concerned for what this might mean for his originator, of course Camshaft be unbothered. He would probably be pleased by the development, just as Jazz was by his alternate identity as Meister. He enjoyed the way the Decepticons quaked. The difference here was these were Autobots and Prime actually wanted Prowl to return to service. How a having a boogeymech for his originator might effect this remained to be seen.

“You are here,” Prowl sighed with relief as he tiptoed from the berthroom, Smokescreen in his arms, hoping to allow Jazz to recharge a little longer.

“I did tell you I was just meeting a friend,” Camshaft replied from his perch on the sofa. He had a mug of energon in his servo, dark like Prowl’s blend. This was not his preferred brew.

“Have you recharged?” Prowl asked.

“No,” Camshaft said. “Give me my grandcreation and brew your poison and we can speak.”

Prowl did as he was told. Camshaft doted on Smokescreen. Though Prowl had been worried he would not be so keen to share Smokescreen with Punch, he seemed to take pleasure in seeing anyone fuss over his little grandcreation. It pleased him to watch Punch fuss over Prowl. It pleased him to watch Jazz. Perhaps it was because he was confident in his own love that he was not threatened by others. The crystals Prowl favoured were already out, his originator would have known that Prowl would be the first awake. He wanted this, Prowl realized, a quiet moment in the light-cycle with just the two of them. They had had many light-cycles like this down in the catacombs, even as they had lived in close quarters with hundreds of other mechanisms.

“Is something troubling you?” Prowl asked. He did not believe his originator was being nostalgic.

“Sit,” Camshaft said. “I did not trouble Chromedome. I find myself in a three way tie over who claims right to unmech him. My position is the worst given I have already had the opportunity to lay him flat. Jazz, theoretically has the strongest position but Punch argues he would be an obvious suspect.”

“He is not worth it, Originator,” Prowl sighed.

“He is, Bitlet,” Camshaft replied. “Because you are.”

“I hope you were not arranging with your friend to resolve the... debate,” Prowl said.

“No,” Camshaft replied. He looked into his mug of stale energon. Prowl was concerned. His originator was uncharacteristically ill at ease.

“Originator...” Prowl said.

“I told you your progenitor was a good mech,” Camshaft said.

“You loved him,” Prowl suggested and Camshaft nodded his helm.

“By alright we should have been enemies,” his originator told him. “He was embedded in my unit, to monitor our activities in Polyhex. It was a useless mission, his and ours. We knew he was not one of us. We were obviously not innocent travellers.”

“How did a Praxian end up working for Polyhex?” Prowl asked.

“He is not Praxian,” Camshaft explained. “He has the look of one. His originator was Polyhexian. His progenitor was gone before his originator knew he had kindled. He did not share the nature of their liaison and I did not ask. His handlers did not understand that doorwings are not just kibble. He could not speak with them, so obviously we knew he was not actually part of our unit. We, of course could not get especially close to any government infrastructure, because we could not very well blend in. We bonded over the pointlessness of it, I think.”

“Smokescreen...” Prowl looked down at his creation as he thought out loud. “He is more Polyhexian than Praxian.”

“He takes after you,” Camshaft said.

“Did you reconnect with one of the members of your old unit?” Prowl asked. “Is that what has you thinking of him?”

“No...” Camshaft sighed. “I ran into your progenitor on the Autobot base.”

“What?” Prowl exclaimed.

“I was not sure if I should tell you,” Camshaft replied. “And I did not tell him.”

“Why not?” Prowl asked, searching his originator’s face for answers.

“Because I would never introduce someone into your life that you did not invite,” Camshaft replied. “Progenitor or not.”

“Everythin’ a’ight?” Jazz asked, suddenly in the living room. Prowl dipped his doorwings.

“Sorry,” he said. “I woke you.”

“I was just dozin’ a lil,” Jazz said. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I cannot believe I have not crashed,” Prowl said. His originator looked chagrined. “My progenitor is in Iacon.”

“Yer progenitor?” Jazz asked. “How?”

“He is one of your ilk,” Camshaft explained. “An Autobot.”

“I hope that ain’t a bad thing,” Jazz said.

“No,” Camshaft replied. “I have not told him of Prowl. I did not wish to without speaking to him first.”

“You were not sure if you wanted to tell me,” Prowl guessed.

“No,” Camshaft confessed. “I did not know how you would feel. I did not...I do not know how he might feel.”

“I am glad you told me, Originator,” Prowl said. “He is still a good mech?”

“He is very much the same as he was when I knew him,” Camshaft replied. “Irreverent. Good humoured. You have his temper, Prowl. Which was a mercy to us both.”

“What is his designation?” Prowl asked. “I should like to meet him, if he is willing. If he is safe.”

“Downshift.”

“Well, that sorts out how Chromedome’s gettin’ taken care of,” Jazz declared.

“How do you mean?” Prowl asked.

“He is commander of the Autobot Security Forces,” Jazz explained.

“What’s this about the ASF?” Punch asked as he joined them. Camshaft leaned back into the coach. Resigned, maybe, Prowl wondered, to a far more boisterous group than they were ever together? Or to letting free his most guarded secrets? “There’d be Pit to pay if ya tried bribin’ the guards. From both sides. Besides, we’re both too good for that.”

“Downshift,” Jazz said. “Ya trained together.”

“Yeah, ‘n if ya’re thinkin’ o’ bribin’m, he'd be real, real offended,” Punch said. “He told me he’s got a special cell for us. Honestly, I was flattered at the thought.”

“He is Prowl’s progenitor,” Camshaft sighed.

“Oh...” Punch said. He paused for a moment. “Ya must be what he was moonin’ over all those decavorns ago.”

“Oh dear,” Camshaft sighed.

“I guess they told ya he was here?” Punch asked.

“No,” Camshaft said. “I ran into him. He was the friend I was meeting at Maccadam’s.”

“Well...” Punch said. “I suppose we outta have ‘m o’er for lunch!”

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 9 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Idk where this came from but it hella flowed from my angsty brain. Enjoy :) There is a phone conversation in this one. Steve's will be in red.

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir Eddie and all that implies (I regret nothing!), Smut, angst, with a dash of fluff, degrading and spanking, reader gets hurt and ends up going to the ER (not because of anything they did! They would never hurt her like that.) Injury is mentioned in detail (bleeding and stitches), I think that's all.

Word Count: 5792

“Hey Maze.”

Your best friend grins at Steve and Eddie as they sit beside her on the bleachers in the rival school gym. The girls Hawkins basketball team had made it to finals and unbeknown to you the boys had made it a priority to be there especially Eddie who postponed Corroded Coffins band practice to come watch you. 

It had taken some time but Masie eventually grew fond of both boys even coming out with you guys to the movies or dinner at the diner in town. After the game began, she couldn’t help but laugh when the metalhead would clap when everyone else did with a vacant expression in his eyes. 

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“No. I just know Y/N is playing and the ball goes in the hoop.”

“Eh. That’s enough.”, Steve grinned as he nudged his friend with his shoulder. 

Hawkins was ahead in score and after every quarter the opposing team seemed to get more and more aggressive. One of the girls seemed to always be on you the same way Billy had with Steve. 

“I’m going to murder this girl if she touches her again.”, Masie growled.

It happened so fast even you barely had time to register it. One minute you were running up the court, the next an elbow was colliding with your face, knocking you hard to the ground. When you didn’t get back up before a whistle even blew Eddie and Steve were on the court. 

The sound of sneakers skidded to your side. “Y/N?! Honey, I need you to look at me, ok?”, Steve lifted your head as Eddie slid his jacket behind it. Your coach knelt beside him as she spoke on the phone with emergency services. “Y/N! Come on, babe.”

“…Fuck me, that hurt…” You try to reach for your head but your limbs feel heavy. 

“No, hey, no. Don’t move, ok? How are you feeling?”

“Heavy…but that could be because I am.” They laugh as you flash them a tiny smile.

“Well, at least your making jokes.” Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s as he brushes your hair back to expose where you were bleeding. Your head turned slightly towards Masie who was kneeling by your side as your eyes began to tear up. 

“I’m scared.”

The guys hated this. They had never felt so helpless and it was killing them. 

EMS arrived and started treating you before pulling you onto the stretcher. 

“Sweetheart, we’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?!”, Eddie called after you as they began wheeling you away. 

################

You grinned as all three of them walked into your room while the nurse was putting a bandage over the stitches near your temple. 

“If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you.” Masie practically pushed the lady out of her way as she hugged you. 

“Oh, look at that. She’s definitely on some good drugs.”, Eddie grins. 

“Yeah, seven stitches and a lot of morphine later.”, the nurse giggled. “She’s going to be feeling it tomorrow though.” She collected her mess, exiting the room, and Masie followed her out saying she had to find a phone to call her parents letting them know she would be late coming home. 

Eddie came up to your side, gently gripping your cheeks as he kissed your forehead. It was honestly the softest thing you had ever experienced with him, making you want to collapse into his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“I…can’t really feel anything…but I think so.”, you smile. 

Steve’s hand slides into your own. “You did good out there tonight. So good in fact that bitch had to take you out completely.” He grinned as you lazily laughed. “Is this a pattern for you? Bleeding and getting into fights.”, he teased. 

“Oh yeah. On graduation, I’ll get my “fuck bitches up” girl scout badge.”, you slurred as the medicine really began kicking in. “Thank you both…for being here.”

Eddie ran his hand through your hair behind your head right as the hospital door flew open again. 

“Sweetheart! Are you okay?!” 

Eddie and Steve immediately pulled back as your mom came in and tugged you into her arms. 

“Yeah, mama. I’m fine—”

“What happened?!”

“Why are you two here?”, you dad asks sizing up the boys with his eyes. 

“We’re, um, her friends.”

“No. Masie is her friend. She’s never mentioned you especially you.”, he points at Eddie. 

“Dad, please… they are my friends.”

“Hm. We’ll talk about that when you are feeling better. You two can leave now.”

The metalhead’s fists clenched in defiance at the way your dad commanded him. Even worse, you were hurt and they didn’t want to leave you, making them feel helpless all over again. 

“Come on, Ed. Let’s…let’s head back. Y/N, call us later, okay?”

You nodded as you watched them hesitate, dragging their feet as they finally leave. 

“Shit. You guys are in for it now. Her parents are about to make this a lot harder for you.” Masie smiled at them with empathy before entering the room as they left.

###################

Masie wasn’t joking around with her statement. They tried to call you but they were always met with a busy signal. You missed the next few days of school and your friend said that your parents kept checking in on you at night so they couldn’t sneak in again. 

It had been three days since they had seen your face or heard your voice and their anger began to leak through in their every day. Steve got in trouble for snapping at one of his teachers and Eddie tried to clear his mind with a new D & D campaign but he couldn’t focus long enough to get anything together. 

At 2am on a school night, the metalhead found himself glaring into the void, cigarette loosely hanging from his lips as he strummed his guitar when his phone ringing jostled him back to reality.

“Yeah, what.”, he answered angrily. 

“Eddie?”

“Baby? Hey, hey.” He moved his instrument to the side as he removed the cigarette and balanced it in a nearby ashtray. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m fine. Am I bothering you?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re never bothering me. Do you want me to get, Steve?” He quickly puts you on hold as he dials the man’s number.

“Yeah?”, he grumbles sleepily. 

Without saying a word, Eddie pulls him through. “He’s here, Y/N.”

“Daddy?”

Steve’s eyes shot open at the sound of your little voice. “Honey? Jesus fucking Christ, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry for disappearing. My parents were worried because I got hurt and then quizzed me about you both. My dad saw you both touching me in the hospital and he pitched a fit. He said I wasn’t allowed to talk to you guys. This is the first time in the last few days I haven’t had them looming over me.”

“We can worry about all that later. What matters to us is how your head is.”

“It still hurts but not as bad as that first morning. It was awful. I…I just wanted you two to hold me and tell me everything would be ok…”

“Hey, hey now, baby girl. Everything IS ok. When are you coming back to school?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I have an appointment with the doctor in the morning so I should be back by lunch.” Your sniffles filled their receivers. “Are you two alright? I heard Daddy got in trouble.”

“Yeah, Steve got feisty with one of his teachers.”, Eddie chuckled. 

“I don’t like feeling out of control…”, Steve exhaled heavily. 

 “We were just worried about you, princess. It’s our job to take care of you.” You’re end suddenly disconnected and with that you were gone again. “Ugh! Fuck this bullshit.”, Eddie growled as he picked up his cigarette again.

“Thanks for calling me, Munson. Fuck, I can’t wait for tomorrow. I need to see her face.”

#############

Steve leans against one of the poles outside while Eddie paces during their lunch period in the front parking lot as they wait for you. 

“Where the hell is she?”

Steve shrugs, checking his watch for the millionth time. 

“God damnit! I fucking hate this!”

“Eddie, relax, dude.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, Harrington. I know you feel the same way. I fucking hate this helpless feeling. This is WORSE than when she was in New York. At least then we knew she would call us to tell us she was ok. Now when she actually fucking needs us, there’s nothing we can do?!”

“Eddie?” Their heads whip around to the sound of your voice. “What’s wrong? Why are you both out here?”

For over three days, this is what the metalhead had been waiting for, you in front of him, but seeing you now had him frozen in place. You had a different type of bandage covering your wound than the last time they saw you at the hospital. Your eye just below it was a light shade of purple as it slowly began fading. 

The mixture of feelings coursing through your own body had you stuck as well. You noticed it before they turned around; the erratic energy surrounding them as they waited. You felt it to; the helplessness of not being able to even call them and hear them comfort you. While you rested you often thought about how they behaved at the gym to the hospital. Steve’s panicked tone as he held you commanding you to keep your eyes open. The fear in Eddie’s eyes and the gentle touches when he brushed your hair back as you spoke to them. 

You also couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious of the injury itself. It looked (and felt) a lot worse those first couple of days to the point where even blinking had you wincing. It was beginning to heal though and the doctor said soon they would be able to take out the stitches. You had so many other unorthodox questions you wanted to ask but didn’t know how. For example, with the current state of your injury, could you still be held down and fucked senseless by two handsome men? 

Seeing them now you kind of wish you had because not only did they seem like they had things they needed to release but you desperately wanted them to because you needed it to. You needed them to take out the frustration of the last few days on you because you needed to let it go as well. 

Eddie’s palm ran through your hair down to the side of your cheek. “I-I didn’t realize she hit you that hard. Are you—does it—”

“Not as bad, no. I didn’t either but they are taking the stitches out Friday and he said I can even start playing again by next week. Not much point now…the season is pretty much over.”, you chuckle. “Why are you guys out here? I was sitting with Masie waiting for you.”

“You said you’d be back by lunch so we were waiting for you to park. We… oh fuck this.” Steve’s hand shot to grab the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. His kisses couldn’t be described any other way besides hungry. When he pulled away, he placed his forehead on yours careful not to hurt you. “We don’t like feeling out of control…”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I tried, I swear, but—”

“No. You were bleeding in our arms. You were scared and there was nothing we could do about it in that moment. Then you were all alone… we couldn’t get to you…”

Eddie tugged lightly on your arm and you fell into his chest. “We felt helpless… It’s nothing you did. I just keep thinking about you in the hospital with those big, sad eyes and we left you.”

“No, hey, no.” You lean back looking up at him. “You didn’t leave me by choice. I know that.” Following Steve’s lead, you reach for his chin and tilt his lips to yours.

The sound of the bell forces you both apart. “I’m not sure if it’s my head or what but that sound is way more fucking grating.” You grin as they laugh, the beautiful noise shooting straight to your heart. 

###############

The rest of the week was a different kind of hell. Everyone kept staring at your face as you walked by, some even asking for the gory details. Masie being the ever-present best friend made sure to shoo them as far away as she could before looping her arm in yours and walking you to class. 

It was wonderful being able to see the guys again but your parents were still hovering over you not even allowing you to go to Masie’s house after school if you asked. Eddie and Steve started behaving a bit differently as well. Friday you finally got your stitches out and by that following Monday you were feeling a lot better. The cut was still visible of course but the bruising and swelling had subsided greatly. 

Even though you couldn’t go to their house, you at least expected them to utilize the time at school like they had previously but they didn’t. It was almost like they were afraid to touch you. 

“Mom, please. I need to get out of the house! I’m much better, let me hang out with Masie.”

Your parents glanced at each other from their place on the couch. “Just Masie?”

“Of course—”

“You know I don’t want you hanging out with that freaky Munson kid or the Harrington boy especially if they are associated.”

“I know, dad.” You tried to hold in your growl as he insulted them. 

“Fine. Are you going to spend the night?”

They nodded when you asked if you could and you excitedly ran to your car as you headed for Eddie’s trailer.

################

“Hello there.” A tall, older man opened the door for you gesturing for you to come in. “I assume you’re here for Eddie. He’s…” The metalhead came into view when he saw you from his room. “…right there. I’m Wayne, his uncle. Are you Y/N?”

“Hi, I am. It’s nice to finally meet you.”, you beam. 

“Likewise. I’ve heard some great things about you.” He grins down at you before turning to collect some things from the couch and tugging on his hat. “Alright, Ed. I’m off to work. Don’t burn anything down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”, Eddie waves after him nonchalantly. “I see the wardens set you free.”

“They did. I thought the three of us could spend some time together.” You coyly run your hand down his shirted chest as you smile. To your dismay, he lightly grabs your wrists and places it on your side. 

“That sounds like fun. Steve is on his way right now, actually. We were going to smoke and listen to some music.”

“Oh…um…ok. I’m not intruding or anything, am I?”

“No, sweetheart, no. Go sit on my bed and I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He paused then, glancing to the floor before flashing you a half-hearted smile. 

Did…Did I do something wrong? Why he is being like this? Maybe Steve will help.

After doing what he suggested, you looked out to his bedroom window to see the boy smoking on his front steps. A few moments go by before a BMW slowly pulls up to the trailer. His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees your car and they both have what seems like a heated conversation. Eddie tosses the cigarette in the dirt, dusting off his shorts before they come inside. 

“Hey, honey. Nice to see you out of your prison.”

You softly smile as you rise to hug him but something’s off. Steve usually wraps his arms tightly around you, pressing your head to this chest as you inhale him. This time his arms encircled you for all of five seconds before letting you go. 

“Are you both mad at me?”

“No, baby. Why would we be mad at you?”, Eddie asks as he sits on the floor and reaches for his black tin lunch box. 

“You’re just acting weird… less…like you were before.”

“I have no idea what that means.”, Steve chuckles. As he sits at the end of the bed, you notice his shoulders tense. Neither of them seemed relaxed at all. 

“Oh? You have no idea? Hm. That’s cool. Maybe Billy Hargrove may know.” You gaze shifts between them, gauging their reaction hoping to get any at all that wasn’t whatever they were displaying now. Eddie froze as Steve’s breathing became a bit more erratic but neither responded to you verbally. “Really? Nothing to say? Misters I-take-what-I-want and call-me-by-my-titles have absolutely nothing to say to me?!”

Eddie moved everything to the side as he listened to you speak. Steve still hadn’t really looked at you so you took it upon yourself, reaching for his chin and turning him to face you. His hand roughly reached for your wrist but instead of acting on your action…he let you go.

“Wow.”, you huffed. “Never thought I’d see the day when the freak and the king became bitches yet here we are. What was it, hm? Is it because I made you guys feel something other than lust? Or are you just afraid to live up to your names because I got hurt. I assure you both I just cracked my head open yet I have more fire than either of you this past week!”

You shook your head, rising to your feet and heading towards the front door. A hand abruptly grabbed your arm and spun you back towards the hallway. “Go.”, Eddie pointed towards his bedroom. “NOW!” He shouted into your face causing you to jump as you turned and quickly did as he asked. 

He brought a chair from the living room and placed it in the middle of his bedroom. “Sit.”

As you took your seat, he sat across from you beside Steve whose eyes were clouded over with rage. 

“I always love when you get angry like you just did. It really gives me insight into how you see us and this relationship.” Eddie’s tone was light but his tense body language betrayed him as he lit a cigarette. “We feel things for you other than lust every fucking day but the helplessness was new. This kind of helpless anyway. The kind that makes you want to do whatever you have to…to make sure the person you care about is ok.”

“But I guess that was all for nothing since we don’t care about you. We just want to fuck you. It’s just Daddy, Sir, and Baby, right?”, Steve glared at you. “It’s just titles, sex, and money… Even if that’s the case, we still wouldn’t have played with you because you were hurt.”, he snickers before he continues. “Can’t really play with a toy when it’s damaged.”

Your eyes start to water at his words but you fold your arms and regain your composure as you sit up straighter. You’re not going to show them your pain. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it? Being referred to like that.” Eddie takes a drag from his cigarette and blows smoke in your direction. “Imagine how it makes us feel when you constantly say things like that. That just because you belong to us all we’re capable of is having sexual feelings for you. That we don’t think about you every god damn day and wonder how you are.”

“If you’re alright…did she eat? Did she get enough sleep since stays up till 2am doing her homework? Are Tommy and Carol leaving her alone because she already has enough on her plate with things at home and school…”

“When is she going to spend the night again because my pillow doesn’t smell like her anymore? Why is the clock moving so fucking slow? I just want it to be lunch so I can hear her laugh across the lunchroom. Is it the end of the day so I can wrap my arms around her before we walk her to her car.”

You wiped the stray tear that escaped as they continued. 

“Those feelings were amplified by ten when we couldn’t reach you. I know she’s in pain but I can’t…hold her. I can’t tell her everything is okay. I can’t fucking kiss her and take care of her like we should.” Eddie squishes his cigarette and lights another. “I hope…I hope she doesn’t think that we’re fine without her.”

Steve glances at him as the boy looks down at the floor. “Because we weren’t… Y/N, when you didn’t get back up and you were struggling to even open your eyes… it scared the hell out of me; out of us.”

“Is that why you won’t touch me?”, you ask.

“Yes and no.”

“Guys…”

Eddie blows smoke in your direction again. “Yes because it scared us and no because… fuck it, Harrington. I don’t know how else to say it so I’m just going to. Sweetheart, we have a lot of fucking buildup of emotions from everything that happened and the feeling of not having control. We know that Miss I-like-to-be-used would allow us to release some of that energy but, baby, we…can’t promise we’d be gentle.”

“And with your injury we aren’t sure what you can handle… and we know that if we touch you we, we may never stop so…”

“Then don’t.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, their answer to your question turning you on. “Please… I need it just as bad as you do.”

They hear it to; the neediness in your tone pleading with them. Their cocks twitch in their pants as you squirm in your chair. 

“Maybe when you’ve fully healed, baby.”

“I’m fine, Daddy. I promise. The stitches are out and it doesn’t even hurt anymore. Please…”

“No.” Eddie didn’t say that with any kind of confidence so you knew you getting through.

Standing from your chair, you kicked off your jeans before taking a seat again making sure to leave your legs wide open. 

“But, Sir, I need you. I need you to make me cum.” Your fingers dip under the fabric of your underwear as you run them through your folds. 

“Seem like you’re doing just fine. I’m not sure what a couple of bitches like us could do, right Stevie?”

Steve was losing his resolve; he wasn’t as strong as Eddie. It had been a couple of weeks since he tasted you and all he wanted to do was bury his face between your legs. 

“I’m sorry for being rude to you. I just…it hurt me that you didn’t want to touch me.”

“Hey. It’s not that we didn’t want to—”

“I know, Sir. I know. You were looking out for me. Thank you for always being so good to me.” Your eyes met his as your fingers slide into your entrance. “Fuck… please. Your fingers are so much bigger than mine.”

His eyes narrowed in your direction. “Did you just interrupt me?”

A cocky grin spread across your face. “Yes, Sir, I did.”

Eddie snapped his fingers and motioned for you to stand in front of them. You did as you were told, shivering when his hands finally made contact with your skin as he lifted off your shirt and slid down your panties. 

“Kneel.”, he commands as he points towards the floor. 

They weren’t sure if you could tell but they were struggling so hard to keep their composure. Seeing you like this, on your knees in front of them as you looked up with those big, beautiful, needy eyes, was torture in it of itself. 

Steve’s palm reached out to touch your face as his thumb traced your lingering wound. Your check turned into his touch as you delicately kissed the pads of his fingers. 

“I’m ok, Daddy. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you…to either of you.”

Eddie’s foot suddenly slid between your legs. “Why don’t you finish what you were doing, princess? Make yourself cum.”

You hesitated slightly, wrapping your arms around his calf as your started to grind your hips, whining when you couldn’t seem to get enough friction. 

“Need something bigger, pretty girl? I like we spoiled her, Stevie.” He chuckles as his hands grip your biceps pulling you onto the bed on top of him. You bit your bottom lip to stifle the moan as he took off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “Up, up.” He called as he patted his tummy. 

Eddie quirked his eyebrow as if to say you can continue and a whimper left your chest as you slowly began grinding your pussy against him. He grinned as he placed his arms behind his head, watching you. 

“Harrington, you should really come up here. The view is quite nice.”

“I don’t mind what I’m seeing back here.” Steve’s palm lightly came down on your ass eliciting a soft moan. You could tell he was testing the waters so you offered some encouragement of your own. 

“Jesus, Daddy. I like that.”

This time Eddie spanked you a bit harder. “Say it correctly.”

“I—mmm—I like Daddy spanking me.”

“Yeah, you do. I can feel you fucking dripping.”

Balancing on his chest, you rub your hips harder against him, his happy trail tickling you in the best possible way. The sound of the boy’s moan underneath you gave you pause as your eyes fluttered open and met his.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I…I’m not hurting you…right?” It takes Eddie a moment and a cursory glance towards his friend to realize what you mean. His palms grip either side of your face as he brings you closer to his own. 

“Grind.”, he commands. You hesitate before continuing, gripping his wrist for leverage. “Look at me, Y/N. Stop worrying about your body. You should be more concerned about this…”, his thumb glides over your forehead before coming down to caress your stomach. “…than this. You trust us, right?”

“Yes, Sir. I trust you and Daddy.”

He smiles as you correctly answer his question. “Good girl, princess. We know not only how to take care of you but ourselves. If I couldn’t handle a beautiful girl like you rubbing her pretty little pussy on top of me, I would never have put you in that position. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand…fuck me.” Your body trembles above him as you cum, the hair on his stomach now coated with you. “Please…please, use me.”, you beg. “I know you both went through a lot these past few days. I did to. I missed you so much. Please…”

Eddie gestured for you to get off him, standing to remove his shorts and boxers. As you waited, a now naked Steve patted the mattress, signaling for you to lay down on your back next to him.

“Tap twice to get my attention, ok?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His fingers smoothed your hair back as he sat up on his knees and pressed the tip of his mushroom head to your lips. “Open.” Steve placed his cock between your mouth, guiding it in and out with an obnoxious pop before fully settling in. 

The bed shook underneath you as Eddie placed himself between your legs, holding your thighs open for a good view as he spit into your cunt. After lifting your leg over his shoulder, he sheathed himself inside of your core, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. 

He wasn’t ruthless but he definitely wasn’t gentle as he jackhammered his hips into yours. Steve held the back of your head as he pumped into your mouth, biting his lips as both men pushed themselves deeper into you. 

“That’s it, babe. Taking me and Steve like the good fucking slut you are. Fuck, I missed this fucking pussy.” His thumb came down to play with your clit and you mewled as you jerked your head away from Steve. 

“Fuck! Yes, Sir. Please…”

“Yeah? Is that the spot, sweetheart?” 

The other boy wrapped his hand around your throat, lightly squeezing as Eddie slammed into you. Steve’s lips came down to meet yours as you panted against them as you came. The metalhead aggressively placed his hands on your ass, holding you as tightly to him as he could get before roughly thrusting his seed inside of you.

The boys head hung as he tried to catch his breath, his hair blocking his face from your view. His arm slowly rose, wrapping around your thigh as his palm rested on your mound. A tiny gasp left your lips as his thumb casually began flicking your clit again. 

“So sensitive…”, he grinned. “I bet I can make you cum again by just doing this without moving my cock.”

“It’s not hurting you?”, Steve chuckled making Eddie’s grin stretch further along his gorgeous face. 

“A little.” He licks his lips as his eyes remain on himself inside of you and his thumb moving against you. “But, again, Harrington, the view is worth it. F-fuck. She’s just fucking pulling me in.”

Eddie grunts as his face scrunches together, slowly pulling halfway out before your pussy tightens around him and he slides back in. Your eyes roll and close as he moves faster against you bundle of nerves, your hand blindly reaching for Steve’s cheek so you can feel his lips. 

His tongue sloppily glides along yours as his fingers delicately brush your hair away from your face. You pulled away, moaning as the sound of slick filled the room. 

“There you go, honey. Let go and just cum. Don’t think about anything else except the way Eddie feels touching you. God, baby girl, I can’t wait to be inside of you. After you cum on my cock I’m going to cum in this pretty mouth. Do you want that?”

“Y-yes, Daddy. Please.”

“God damn it…”, Eddie mewled, your cunt squeezing him like a vice as you cum. 

Steve kisses your forehead before he and the metalhead switch places. After lifting you up and leaning his back against the headboard, he positions you on top of him so you were facing away with your legs bent at the knee on either side of him. Unsure of what you should be doing, he guided you with his hands, raising your hips and bringing you down gradually on to his dick. 

“That’s my good girl. Fuck. L-lean forward, baby, and balance on your hands.”

You followed his instructions, pushing on to your hands and using them for leverage as you bounced your hips against his own. Eddie sat on his knees in front of you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed your lips.

“How does he feel, sweetheart?”

“Mmm—so good.”

“Yeah? Funny. I thought you said you had some aggression you wanted to get out to. Doesn’t seem like you’re fucking him that way.”

You whimper as you roll your waist, Steve’s hand coming down to smack your ass.

“Come on, Y/N. I know you can do better than that.”, Eddie coos.

“Fuck, yes, honey.” The other man grunts from behind as your lower half hits his as hard and fast as you can go. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Eddie tangles his fingers into your hair as he presses your face to his shoulder while Steve begins thrusting upwards to meet your actions with aggressive motions of his own. 

Crying out, your body shutters as you tumble of the edge.

“Good…good girl, babe. Shit…come…come put those beautiful lips…on my cock.”, he panted. 

His friend released his hold on you as you slid off his lap and adjusted yourself so you could take him in your mouth. Steve held you still as he pumped into until you felt his spend hit the back of your throat. You quickly bobbed your head, utilizing your tongue to grab every last drop you could before swallowing him down. 

You collapsed on to your back trying to catch your breath until a hand slid behind your head lifting it up till your lips touched glass. 

“Drink this, sweetheart.” As soon as the water hit your tastebuds, your hand reached for the cup and chugged the rest of its contents. “Good, baby. Let’s go take a shower really quick, ok?”

You nod as you allow him to take your hand and lead you to his bathroom before preparing the shower. Standing silently in your bliss, you allow him to clean you. 

Eddie is startled slightly when your arms wrap around him and you nuzzle into his chest. He smiles as he holds you to him. 

“I’m glad you’re okay. It’s been a while since I was…panicked like that. When we couldn’t be there for you, I felt like I failed you.”

“No, Sir. Please, don’t think like that. I know my parents made it harder with how they reacted. Maybe after we graduate, we can look for a place together. That way you know I’m safe.”

“You’d want that?”

You lean back, meeting his eyes. “Of course. I’m yours. I’d love to be able to see you guys every day. I mean, we can talk about it. You and Steve don’t have to say yes or no right now.”

#############

Eddie’s phone blares angerly on his bed side table making Steve cringe into your shoulder and pull you tighter to his chest. The metalhead groaned as the hand you had resting on his back slid off as he rolled over to stop the God awful noise from continuing. 

“Yeah?!...Hey Wayne…Yeah, she’s still here and Harrington to.”

He presses the phone to his chest and without opening his eyes, addresses you both. “My uncle is on his way home and wants to know if we want anything from the diner for breakfast.”

“He doesn’t have to do that.”, you answer groggily. 

“Yeah, Wayne. My girlfriend says she would like eggs and bacon with some coffee and we’ll have the same. Thanks, man.”

Eddie places the device back down and rolls over on his side facing you. 

“You said girlfriend…”

“Jesus H Christ.”, the boy sighs before opening his eyes to meet your glowing ones. “Do you not want to be?”

“No…I mean yes…I mean…”

Steve chuckles behind you. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Am I your girlfriend to?”

“I kinda thought that obvious with the speech we gave you last night.” 

Excitedly, you plant a kiss on each of them as they groan playfully. “Now, boyfriends, I think we should at least put clothes on before Eddie’s uncle comes home and asks some really awkward questions.”

############

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[tomorrowxtogether]

[NOTICE] TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉 FINALE Release Announcement

We are excited to announce the release of TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉 FINALE.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉, a second world tour with MOA from around the globe!

This release captures the “FINALE” concert at Gocheok Sky Dome that marked the grand conclusion of the world tour, preserving all the touching moments shared between TOMORROW X TOGETHER and MOA.

It includes not only fantastic performances featuring the stories TOMORROW X TOGETHER has told so far, but also behind-the-scenes practice and rehearsal footage, D-DAY sketches, interviews with the members as they reflect on the end of the world tour, concert commentary reminiscing about the performance, and more. Additionally, you’ll find an array of behind-the-scenes content from the world tour, all packaged in a beautifully designed outer box with a fairytale motif. Various items, including a photo book, postcard set, and photo card set, add to the specialness.

This magical moment between TOMORROW X TOGETHER and MOA, TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉 FINALE is available for pre-order starting July 9, and will be officially released on August 12.

[PRE-ORDER DATE] - From 11AM, Tuesday, July 9, 2024 (KST) *WHILE SUPPLIES LAST*

[RELEASE DATE] - Weverse shop GLOBAL : July 26, 2024 (KST) - Weverse shop US : August 12, 2024 (PDT) - Weverse Shop JAPAN & UNIVERSAL MUSIC JAPAN : August 5, 2024 (KST) - QQ Music & Kugou Music : Scheduled to be released in August, 2024 (KST)

*Online Retailers : July 26, 2024 (KST) - Kakao Talk Gift - Aladin - YES24 - KTOWN4U - KYOBO BOOK CENTRE(HOTTRACKS) - Apple Music

- OUT BOX Size : 160x235x35mm * This outbox is designed to protect the product during distribution. We do not offer exchanges or refunds for stains or damage to the outbox that may be sustained during the distribution process.

[SPEC] 1. PHOTOBOOK Size : 145x220 mm｜148p

2. DIGITAL CODE SET DIGITAL CODE Size : 27x85mm｜About 304 mins PAPER CHARM Size : 49x76mm｜1ea

[144p], [270p], [360p], [480p SD], [720p HD], [1080p FHD] KOREAN, ENGLISH, JAPANESE, CHINESE

* This product is made of recycled plastic, so the marbling pattern is not identical on all items. Spots, parting lines, and other natural occurrences in the manufacturing process may be present and do not constitute defects

3. FOLDING POSTER Size : 74x105mm｜1ea

4. POSTCARD SET CLEAR FILE Size : 113x158mm POSTCARD Size : 105x148mm｜5ea

5. PHOTOCARD SET SLEEVE Size : 60x95mm PHOTO CARD Size : 54x86mm｜5ea

[CONTENTS] 1. TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉 FINALE Blue Hour Can't We Just Leave The Monster Alive? Drama + No Rules Cat & Dog 9 and Three Quarters (Run Away) We Lost The Summer Can't You See Me? 0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) feat. Seori LO$ER=LO♡ER Dear Sputnik Magic Opening Sequence Anti-Romantic Good Boy Gone Bad Tinnitus Devil by the Window Angel Or Devil Happily Ever After Happy Fools (feat. Coi Leray) Sugar Rush Ride Farewell, Neverland Chasing That Feeling Skipping Stones MOA Diary (Dubaddu Wari Wari) Sweet Dreams Our Summer Blue Spring

2. TOMORROW X TOGETHER WORLD TOUR 〈ACT : SWEET MIRAGE〉 FINALE : MAKING - OF FILM - VCR SHOOT SKETCH - PRACTICE & REHEARSAL SKETCH - CONCERT D-DAY SKETCH & INTERVIEW - CONCERT COMMENTARY