#but my heart pounds so hard from just the trailer

[atimefordragons]

the musical mashup/remix in the trailer for the romantics sends an electric shock right through my whole nervous system! the nostalgia, the emotions, the pyaar! yashji was iconic af bro, who would we be without those films man. also, I need yash raj films to release a full version of that remix of tujhe dekha to ye jana sanam, I need that version for my soul! 

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

[eiightysixbaby]

LEAH may I humbly request Eddie and best friend!Reader play wrestling and Reader pins him to the ground and boom ✨making out✨?

xoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

my requests are ALWAYS open for you, bug.

“I just don’t know where Carver gets off being such a dick to everyone,” Eddie scoffs. “I’d love to teach him a lesson, kick his stupid teeth in.”

You giggle. It’s not really a laughing matter, but you giggle.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance as he unlocks the door to the trailer. “What’s so funny, sweetheart?”

He toes off his sneakers in the entryway, awaiting your answer as you take your time untying your own, trying to avoid the answer.

“Listen, you know you’re my best friend, right? Okay?” you start, peaking Eddie’s curiosity even more. “I’m not saying you couldn’t kick Carver’s ass, but…. I don’t know! I just don’t view you as particularly ‘tough’,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as you walk over to the couch.

Eddie just looks at you, eyebrows hidden under his bangs as he lifts them.

“Don’t get offended! You just… you’re always so gentle around me,” you quickly add, attempting to soften the blow to his ego.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I think you’ve made it verryyyy clear that I can’t throw a punch,” Eddie replies, holding his hands up. “I get it, really,” he sighs dramatically, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t start,” you laugh, pointing a finger at him.

“I suppose you could take me then? You could kick my ass?” he goes on, gesturing towards himself with one hand.

“I could absolutely take you in a fight. You wouldn’t dare throw a punch at me,” you say matter-of-factly, and of course you’re correct.

“Okay, sure. You could take me,” he says, too compliant to be believable. He slowly steps towards the couch, drawing out his movements. You eye him suspiciously as he sits down on the opposite end of the furniture. “But could you fight back against… the tickle monster?”

And in one swift movement, before you can even comprehend, he’s right beside you, hands reaching for your sides as his fingers hit your most ticklish spot.

“No! Eddie!!” you squeal, laughing against your own will, body coiling into itself as he relentlessly attacks you.

You feel like you can’t catch your breath, laughter roaring through you as tears spring to your eyes. He’s stronger than you, keeping you curled beneath him, fingers digging into your sides. He laughs along with you, and the sound infiltrates your ears, making your heart strum a tune. If your stomach wasn’t hurting from laughter, you wouldn’t want him to stop. Wouldn’t want him to get any farther away.

There’s a brief moment where he eases up, if you’d blinked you’d have missed it, but luckily you didn’t. You see your opportunity, shoving him off of you with your hands, making a break for it as you pounce off of the sofa.

He’s quicker, though, recovering from your shove and lunging after you, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

“You dare think you can outsmart me!?” he roars, putting on his best monster voice.

You kick and flail, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt as you pound on his back to let you go. If you think too long about the way he’s holding onto you you’re sure to melt. He walks you into his bedroom, throwing you down on his fluffy mattress before completely pinning you there, triumphant.

“You’re not trying very hard, sweet girl,” he teases, smirking at the way you struggle to free your wrists from his grip.

“Shut up,” you mumble, scrunching up your face when Eddie’s hair tickles your nose.

You wrestle out of his grasp finally, thrashing around in an attempt to move him from where he hovers above you. You manage to topple him over, newfound strength taking over as you pin him down, pressing his shoulders against the mattress. You sling a leg over his lap, straddling him and keeping him in place.

He’s wide-eyed at your sudden burst of ferocity, mouth parted just slightly as he catches his breath.

“See? Told you I could kick your ass,” you say, smug and confident.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you — those big eyes staring through to your soul. Your breath catches in your throat, then, becoming all too aware of the position that you’re in. It feels like you sit there staring at each other for eons, listening to the clock tick from his bedside table.

Then, he moves his hands. Slowly, tentatively, letting them rest on your hips. Holding you where you are, not wanting you to move.

“Eddie—” you start, your voice failing you, coming out incredibly breathy.

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, getting the words out quickly, as if they were begging to be let loose.

“Yeah,” you nod.

He’s pulling your face down, then, and you follow his guidance. Your lips collide against his, his tongue immediately parting them for entrance. There’s no room to be timid, not with the way he kisses you like it’s his dying wish. Your heart pounds in your chest, because you’re kissing your best friend. Does he know how badly you’ve wanted this? Has he felt the same this entire time?

Clearly he has, with the way he whimpers into you when your tongue starts to explore his mouth. His hands don’t let go of your cheeks, big palms encompassing your soft skin, thumbs rubbing softly against your cheekbones. And suddenly you feel like you can’t be close enough to him, like your chest being pressed to his and your tongues in each others’ throats simply isn’t enough and you need to crawl inside of his skin and reside there.

You pull away all too soon, just slightly, reluctantly. He still holds your face, wanting to pull you right back to him, his eyes searching yours. So impossibly beautiful.

“You keep kissing me like that, and I won’t tell a soul that I totally just kicked your ass,” you tease, making him snort, his kiss-bitten lips mere millimeters from your own.

Another firm kiss to your mouth, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip until a breathy moan releases from you. “Okay, deal.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Shattering sapphires tear under love

Aemond x prostitute!reader

warning : +18, smut (handjob), mommy kink, body worship, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional, cuddling, crying, family issues and mommy issues, kissing, no use of Y/n, Aemonds just needs a little love

Summary : The death of his nephew, whether intentional or unintentional. A fact that had consequences and left the prince at a low point he hoped he would never reach…to be the disillusionment of his family. A prince of the realm crying broken dark in the dark finding escape with his other gem…

Info : OH MY GOD Aemond in the trailer and now seeing him a dream came true (even though I thought it was Rhaenyra at first strangely enough) this picture is just incredible ahhh. I knew I had to write it now have a lot of fun with it I had it again very much ;)

the aemond gif (very pretty by the way) is from @barbieaemond thanks for that and check out the blog

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~

Rain and wind he could still feel nature on him. The lightning and thunder that struck around him tried to tear away and devour every living thing in the sky.

The winds tried to whirl him around, but the rugged wings of the ancient dragoness Vhagar were more powerful and had nature under them.

A creature of magic and ancient Valyria blood did not submit to the winds, it flew through them, obeying the commands of its fourth and final dragon rider.

Now it obeyed orders it was not commanded to obey as its mouth full of old sharp fangs closed around Arrax. The dragon's roar was barely audible, but the last look he gave his nephew was the one that burned into his eye like dragon fire, breaking his sphair.

He looked into those dark eyes and saw nothing but fear in the knowledge of death. I killed him. The blood and the torn body parts of the little dragon seemed to close around Lucerys and the prince and his dragon rushed to the water. It was as if Vhagar and the sky could control themselves again.

The anger subsided and he stared at his trembling hand, covered by a leather glove, which he had reflexively stretched out. Pathetic. It had happened, it had been done, and the sound of Vhagar's wings carrying him home seemed to be the only thing left of the world.

His pounding heart, his trembling hands and the burning pain of his scarred skin where his eye had once been seemed to be only the beginning of this nightmare. But the worst part of arriving back in the city, in King's Landing, in the castle that was his home from the towers to the courtyard and the throne room, was meeting his mother's eyes.

The initial touch of fear that something had happened to him during the storm, ,,Aemond, thank the gods you're all right," had drawn him into her arms for a moment, but this changed to an uncertain and nervous one when she saw how upset her son actually was.

When she saw that he didn't seem calm and almost cool like his violet eye showed emotions of fear and sadness that he didn't have until now at least. ,,Do you realize what you've done?" the loud voice of his grandfather and hand Otto Hightower echoed in the room intended for the small council.

He had never seen his grandfather so full of anger and hatred, at least not towards him. I was always better than him. A glance at his older brother only confirmed that he found it amusing that their sister's bastard was finally dead. The violet of the two brothers met and yet he could see that Aegon gave him a silent sign.

He would be on his side no matter what…a small certainty in time. ,,Aemond! By the crown, do you know what this means?" even his mother shouted now, his wonderful, strong mother, his queen dowager.

The woman who had held him when he was wronged, the blood running from his ruined eyes no more than scarred flesh now. The woman who had fought for him, his brother and Heleana, against a woman, his older half-sister, who had gotten everything.

She had had a hard time and he had let her down a reality that hurt as much as her grip on his arms. Pressing her bloody fingernails into the dark fabric of his sleeves, he could have sworn they left small marks. ,,It means war, mother," he replied calmly, regretting that it came across as cold, but inside he cried out for forgiveness.

The pain behind his eyes was like dragon fire itself, his fingers clenched into fists again and again to stifle the trembling. He almost backed away when his mother and grandfather made a move towards him, thinking they were going to hit him. Just as useless as Aegon.

But with the rise of Aegon and the opening of the door as Criston stepped in, both Hightowers paused to give their son and grandson a look that burned itself into Ameond's eye just as Lucerys had.

The same dark accusing eyes, he was to blame, he had disappointed…he was only the second son after all. ,,To war then', Aegon had interrupted the entrance, giving his younger brother a curt nod to disappear for a while, surrendering to the voices of his family, with wine the new king would be able to bear anything.

Leaving the room hastily before anyone could grab him, the prince of the realm disappeared into the dark corridors to escape to his chambers.

It was as if his heartbeat was mingling with his overly rapid breathing, the trembling of his fingers would not stop and whether it was the third cup of wine or the food that tasted of nothing, not even the old Valyrian books could calm him down. He almost shouted at the servants to leave him alone and even Heleana he was too afraid to let her see him like this.

She herself doesn't deserve you. But he knew from the sound of her shallow words that she already knew what had happened to him. ,Two dresses, silk shattering eye shattering castle under dragons…mother will understand dear brother" he had heard her voice as she had probably turned almost dance-like through the corridors in her hands her insects flying and crawling around and also that his ,,Thank you Heleana" which came across like a stifled whisper was heard by her.

His face hidden in his hands, leaning slightly hunched over on the armchair in front of the fireplace, seemed to break in his emotional thoughts. ,,Get a hold of yourself," he hissed angrily that he had become such a thing because of a boy…he had murdered and disappointed…he didn't deserve it…didn't deserve the love of his family…his mother.

It seemed to get worse with every moment, his usually too big room suddenly too small and suffocating. The light of the moon shining through the window let him know that there was King's Landing, a city that was always open to him. His gem was still there.

Not a decision but rather a feeling of attraction without overcoming it, he made a decision within himself. Turning away from the armchair that raised the fire that made his spahir sparkle and reaching for his cloak, he walked out of his chamber at the hour of the wolf.

He had evaded the guards with his brother since he was a child. The steps still the same feeling of uncertainty and curiosity as then. The time his brother had grabbed her and pulled him behind him towards the city, towards the Street of Silk.

The Street of Silk lay on the hill of Rhaenys, a street notorious for lust and whimsy. But it was the place, it was her place where he knew she was the only one who was always good-natured towards him.

Deep down inside, whenever he heard the faint jingle of his coin purse, he knew that at the end of the day it was just a service he was getting with money.

But maybe this was exactly what he needed, a service, a woman, a woman who would embrace him and not see him as what his family, his mother despised him for today. Coins are the life of a whore.

He pulled his hooded cloak low over his face, covering his face as best he could as he knocked on the door and heard the activity behind it. Or at least he knew what it looked like in there again, a den of lust that had been no stranger to him since he was thirteen.

After another brief moment in the darkness, the door opened and he saw the familiar dark curly hair of the older woman. The mother of the brothel. ,,At this late hour, my…customer," she said and he saw her eyes peering easily under his cloak. It was her, she was his first, he was her most endless.

He would not forget her and even though he had hated his brother, he had simply left him in the brothel while Aegon had disappeared into the building with several whores of both sexes.

So Aemond had been taken by her most of the experience and to this day he lied to himself. He could have had a younger one but even inside, hell she knew he had longed for nothing more than a mother's approval.

A fact that lay unsaid between them all these years until he found his new gem. It no longer remained unsaid. ,,Is she there?" he murmured as she grasped his hand again as she always did and almost patted it.

She led him through her large house past the customers, the young men and women she was one of the oldest but every brothel had to offer a complete age range. The silk on the bodies that were naked underneath gave a look of lust but his eyes were mostly on the floor or on his companion.

,,You know she's always there for you, my prince. I thought something a little more robust was needed," she remarked and he felt her rubbing his hand as they both knew exactly what it was. ,,Robust soon…but no, something more caring," he replied and stopped when they arrived in front of the door decorated with silver.

The silver he had paid for was evidence of his many visits and he was not surprised that the silver showed the shape of dragons and fire. His gemstone marked by the prince's coins.

He heard the older woman's laughter make her curls bounce as she broke away from him and paused, ,,Anything you wish for my dear she, me or anyone else my house is always open to you…she will take away your guilt" she said and winked he instantly tensed and had to suppress a sigh. Her eyes were guilty and cleverly she had to realize what her customers wanted.

But she could and had always read him just as well. Pulling the golden dragon coin out of the small pouch and throwing it in her direction and catching it, he only heard her laugh and saw the knowledge in her eyes before he had too much to do and went into the room.

His cloak still lay over him as he walked into the largest room of the house, the double bed with a sett curtain, the finest furniture and ornaments with murals, even relatively expensive jewelry could be found here.

It was the prince's second room and everyone knew it. He heard her humming a song as she always did when she looked in front of her mirror and combed her hair, cared for herself and enjoyed a cup of wine.

,,Who is it?" she asked into the room and waited for his answer but his throat seemed dry, suddenly those suppressed emotions came back. He felt the pain in his eye, his fingers were trembling and he couldn't control himself, it was terrible.

As he approached her, the cloak still on him, he saw that she had seen him in her mirror and put a knowing, gentle smile on her lips. ,,A cloaked man…who could that possibly be? What pretty thing is hiding underneath?" she asked knowingly and rose to her feet, making her sapphire necklace sparkle in the candlelight and her dark, almost green silk dress flap.

All gifts he had given her to transform her into something that was not him by blood but that didn't matter here, here in his own realm…not today, not yesterday and never.

She came closer to him and gently undid the clasp of the cloak, taking off the hood and tying the dark garment. He saw the hint of a smirk as she always did when she wanted to make a joke.

But just as her hand was about to rest on his cheek, she paused and saw in his violet eye what his mother had seen. ,,My Saphier, what's wrong? What's worrying you that it hurts, my prince?" she asked and took his hand with her other hand, seeming even more surprised to feel the slight trembling.

She slowly took off his gloves and finally her warmth met his coolness and for a moment she just continued to watch him. Skillful eyes always saw what a client needed but her prince, the perfect second son, what had shaken him so?

Slowly his hand take the warmth on his cold he always seemed cold. Slowly moving him towards the couch, the two-seater next to the bed was actually his favorite place. He listened to her there when she read him books and he combed her hair against his and told him about Vhagar and the dragons.

It was almost a sweet moment they shared, but with his stillness and tenseness, she tried to whisk him towards the bed. A soft smile on her lips, moving her hair around and already making a lurid sound, she stopped when Aemond didn't follow her. ,,I didn't want to disappoint you," he said suddenly, his violet eye looking at the floor for the first time.

Seeing how she immediately changed again she listened, trying to figure out what had happened. ,,You can never let me down," she murmured, taking her hands off him and walking to the bed alone instead, leaving it up to him if he wanted to keep talking, if his violet eyes were detached from the green in her dress, the image of his mother screaming at him.

Meanwhile, the muffled thud of pillows and furs could be heard in front of the lit fireplace in which the dark wood was burning. She sat down on the furs, her legs apart and her fingers gently, almost carefully, stroking the green fabric from her shoulders. I'll take you again and again. Her body dancing through the flames cast shadows that were slowly taken over by Aemond.

She showed him her upper body, the bare skin the sapphire necklace seemed to be the only thing still covering her, the look in her eyes invitingly caring...motherly.

Waiting for him on the fell, her arms outstretched to him, his name spilling from her lips, ,,Ameond...my darling...come here" she brought to him knowing that he wanted and needed the flattery, the praise. Knew that she could give him what he needed, even if she didn't yet know what had happened, she would find out.

Slowly, almost appathetically, he reached for the top layer of his clothing, opening the heavy leather and the expensive dark fabrics to let the cloak fall to the floor. ,,Your darling," he murmured and she saw the flash of his gemstone as he came closer to her, slowly kneeling down in front of her still expecting a blow.

But instead her hands went to his light-colored hair, twisting a few strands back and forth before she combed her fingers through it. ,,You smell of fire and smoke... have you been flying on Vhagar again?" she asked, her eyes closed, trying to feel his reaction a little, knowing that she would only trigger more nervousness in his gaze.

A question, an everyday life, an everyday life with a protector, caring, motherly, full of empathy. He felt himself slowly stop trembling, probably imagining that everything would be all right again while she was asking him. ,,Yes, we were on our way to Storm's End," he revealed after a moment of silence, hearing him exhale almost shakily, and she knew that Storm's End was the seat of House Baratheon, even a whore had a knowledge that was due in no small part to her.

A long flight of revenge and duty. Leaning forward slightly, she let one hand wander over his shoulder to his chest while her other hand continued to play with his hair.

She skillfully and slowly began to undo the buttons and the shuttles, making small noises that were drowned out by the crackling of the fire. ,,Tell me Storm's End is far away my dear, was there a reason?" she asked quietly and slowly slipped the top off his body, pulling it down his beautiful almost porcelain-like body over the small and larger scars from fighting and the cold.

But as soon as the clothes came off, she felt him tremble again as if he had the shivers. ,,Shhh not yet I'm here mother is here dear" she whispered to him giving him a gentle kiss on his sleep still playing with his hair as she began to kiss his neck and back.

Sensed that it had probably happened on Storm's End, that the smell of fire and smoke couldn't just be Vhagar, that the rain had left a few drops on him. What had happened in the air that night?

She paused again for a moment as Aemond moved slightly, she saw him lift his hips slightly to remove the leather trousers, tossing the piece carelessly into the room and yet not turning to her.

The prince slowly lay down by her again, but she didn't ask him to do anything else. She watched him, seeing his features only slightly shadowed by fire, knowing that his violet eye was coated with softness while the gemstone still flashed. ,,Stay with me, never leave me," he demanded, his hand reaching behind him to grasp hers and she sensed he was still reaching for something she wasn't aware of. She didn't have the same coldness as her, she didn't have the same life traits as her...she wasn't what had given birth to him.

She was not the woman who could beat him with a single word, a single lift of her voice...but she was a woman who came closer, a substitute for the prince who longed for love.

,,I'll never leave you Aemond, I'll stay with you right here and you'll stay in my lap with me where nothing happens...what happens doesn't matter, you understand?" she asked, exerting a barely perceptible pressure on his body, making him lie down slowly, stretching out her legs so that he could position his head correctly in her lap.

She could finally see his face when he wanted to, but he could also turn away from her at any moment. But he decided to look at her, she saw him looking at her with something like loss in his eye as she continued to play with his hair. She saw how needy he was, how needy he was in her lap.

He needed it after his journey after his flight after his anger had made him do something.

She heard him inhale almost shakily as his body shifted slightly into a fetal position and she stroked his hair again. ,,I-I...killed Lucerys," he admitted, silent tears flowing down his cheeks and he closed his eye, taking in her eagerness for a second before she relaxed again and leaned forward to embrace him in his prone position.

His hands holding onto him over the scars and old wounds, her own fingers stroked over his body, twitching to tell her when to stop or continue. The prince was someone she found joy in wanting to take care of, it was a love for him. Your jewel is mine.

And he continued to close his eyes, trying to erase the memories of his nephew, the boy who disfigured him and he got no revenge. ,,It was an accident...nothing more it will all be over my lovely...let it go" she whispered to him letting his hands continue to wander over his body stroking over scars hearing his sigh and slowly moving towards his center letting his mind wander for a moment before she began a few gentle strokes.

He felt a sigh mingling with a sob as his fingers clutched at her legs and neck and he pressed against her, trying to forget the horrible scene and all the pain inside him. Letting the mix of hatred and anger mix with excitement and lust.

He bit his lip, not wanting to let out a soft sound that would make him feel like it was his own fault if he heard himself ,,Shhh it's okay, let it go" she reminded him, her other hand wandering gently over his face, intertwining with his hands, feeling him tremble slightly as her hand on his cock lightly passed over the tip for the drops of pleasure to gather and the lustful noises in the room intensified alongside the distant music.

,,Mhh I-I uhg didn't want it," he murmured, moving his hips lightly with her gentle, quiet pace as she felt him cry, moving him lightly back and forth like a mother moving a baby back and forth in her arms, talking to him while she continued to make physical love to him.

,,I know you didn't want it...I'm not angry or disappointed Ameond" she assured him, placing gentle kisses on his head as he continued to press against her, more lustful sounds escaping his lips and tears wetting his cheeks.

She picked up the pace and lifted her hand from his lap, taking her time to let him know she was there, ,,The sight of Lu-Luce he," Aemond murmured again as he glanced at a velvety red pillow and moved into her lap, his legs resting slightly above hers and his head tucked into the crook of her neck, her hand continuing to stimulate him as she kept reassuring him that everything would be alright while he moved his hips harder and harder, his fingers digging into the fabric of the blankets and pillows.

,,I know, but I'm here, you're the prince, nothing will happen," she kept talking to him as she watched him open his closed eyes, his pink cheeks flushed with lust and his lips curled up to look at her as he sighed into the kiss and she made a sound of pleasure herself as he turned slightly and let his lips trail over her torso.

He kept kissing her and his anger and hatred, his sadness and worry seemed to slowly disappear and louder and louder noises left his lips, which were easily suppressed by the sucking on her breast. The king and prince fascinated by one and the same jewel.

He didn't know that he had the same calm expression as the king when he was in her arms but it didn't matter, she cared for the one-eyed prince, her good boy who only needed his mother one way or another, ,,I'm sorry-I'm sorry mother," she heard him murmur and saw him look briefly at her, showing a kindness and understanding that drew him into another kiss and she felt him approach his climax.

She nodded assuring him that all was well and saw his face show the mix of shame, fear, lust and pure devotion it was pure beauty. Beauty for which she was and will always be with him because she knew he would come back he was a dog of the king with the mark of a dragon.

A young man fascinated by his uncle and holding deep feelings for his nephew who is better than him beyond death in a way Aemodn could never be.

But most of all he was dependent on her, he got no care from the Dowager Queen and every time he came back to her she loved him that she knew he would come back. ,,I always love you my dear Aemond...and now let go and rest and dream of memories and times past" she commanded him as she saw the anger in his confused mind penetrate him and he let out another whimper before his body stirred slightly and he clawed at her before he poured himself into her hand with a loud moan.

She still held him through his high point, stroking his head and giving him a sort of goodnight kiss as a lullaby came over her lips and she wiped her hand on the pillows before covering herself and him with a blanket.

She felt how it took a few moments before the pain relaxed completely and, at least for a few hours, a sleep that did not make him wake up with guilt and fear in the arms of a woman, a woman who could show him affection.

She would always be his jewel, and she was prepared to accept that if the sapphire broke, she would always be there to pick up the pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ladythornofrivia , @omgsuperstarg , @girlypieee , @fadingbatmuffindonkey , @mymoonempress

[divine-donna]

favorite person

for @shinyanchorface because i know you went feral over the pics and now we got a trailer. also this is definitely not historically accurate so please do not come for me. am i sure how things were done back then? absolutely not. this is just for fun.

character: marcus acacius

content warning: smut. consensual sex. by pressing read more, you consent to viewing sexual content.

word count: 1k words

"There you are. You're late."

"I apologize." You set down your bowl, towel, strigil, and the oil pitcher by the table. "I was...preoccupied." It was true. You would not dare lie to him. "It won't happen again."

"The Emperor?"

You don't look up from the table. Your hands twitch slightly and your heart pounds against your ribcage. You can feel the tile of the table. Smooth with small crevices, the surface being chipped away by its constant usage. Your finger runs over it, feeling the ragged edges. If you press your finger down hard enough, the crevice will leave you with an imprint on your skin.

"Perhaps." You answer.

There's a small sigh. "Well he doesn't matter. Just come over here."

You finally look up. The general still has his armor on. He's covered in dirt. You walk over, steps rather quiet. Your fingers rest on his shoulder as you walk around to be behind him. Then you begin to undo the straps holding his armor together, gently removing it from his body. He slouches a little bit and lets out a breath. A weight had been taken off of his chest, literally.

Marcus shivers with the grazing of your fingertips against his skin. He lets you strip him down until he's bare. You keep your eyes away. He found your aversion to him cordial.

You have someone else fill the private bath and remove the cork from the pitcher yourself. You pour some oil onto his shoulders and begin to rub it into his skin. There's a new bruise on his body, making him wince when you touch it. And beneath your fingers, you feel the raised skin of scars.

You pick up your bowl and strigil and begin to scrape his upper body. Your touch is gentle and he could feel the metal pressing hard against his skin. "Harder. I know you can do it." He says, his voice gruff.

You apply more pressure as you scrape the oil off his body and into the bowl. His skin leaves a pink tint from the places you've scraped. with his upper body done, you begin to lather his legs in oil, scraping the mixture into the bowl. You move upwards, keeping your eyes away from...well, between his legs. "You're my favorite." The general speaks.

You look up at him from between his legs. His tongue darts over his lips. "General?"

"I said...you're my favorite." His hand snakes to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to form all over. "I prefer it when they scrape hard."

"I know you prefer to be clean, general. You've had a long day." You continue scraping, trying to avoid what lied just between his legs.

You finished scraping and cleaning him thoroughly, setting the strigil and bowl aside. "Join me."

"General?"

"Join me. In the bath." He walks over to the tub and steps in. Marcus slowly sinks into the steaming water, letting out a groan. His muscles relax and he feels at ease. Marcus rests his arms against the edge of the bath, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm not...I'm not clean." You shake your head.

"So? Just join me (Y/N)."

You can't deny that the steam coming out of the water was looking rather tempting. And then the general. Legs spread, a gorgeous face profile, and a strong nose, his muscles popping. You shed your clothes and step into the bath with him, sinking into the water. You could feel your muscles creak and your bones pop as you stretch a little bit.

Marcus watches you rub the water over your skin. "Come closer. I don't bite."

You look at him before inching closer to him. A small gasp leaves you when he grabs your waist and pulls you atop of him. "I like seeing your body."

"General..."

"Just call me Marcus." His hands stroke your sides. "We're close enough. You've seen all of me. And now...I see all of you~" He leans forward, lips pressing against yours. And his facial hair tickles your skin. You push back against him, moving with his rhythm and parting your lips to let his slide past them. He explores your mouth with his tongue, caressing the roof and tasting you.

"Come on. Spread." He groans. You straddle him, aligning your throbbing hole with his already hard cock. You can feel his tip pressing against you. "Go slow. There's no rush."

You feel yourself stretch out as you begin to sink yourself onto him. Gasps escaping. Marcus can't help but moan, feeling your walls cling to him. They felt so heavenly. You felt heavenly. He wanted to be inside you. He begins to thrust upwards into you, hands trailing down to your hips. His fingers dig into your soft skin. Supple and soft and tight too. You begin to ride him, rolling your hips. "Marcus! Oh Marcus!" Your own fingers dig into his shoulders.

Marcus leans forward, lips peppering kisses along your neck and nibbling at your skin. He sucks hard, leaving hickeys and his tongue traces circles on your bruises. You move your hips faster, feeling him thrust upwards. It was ecstatic, the way his cock was stretching you and sliding in and out. Your hands slowly trail to his back, fingers nails digging into his cleaned skin. The water ripples all around you, splashing out of the tub.

"(Y/N)! You feel so good!" He buries his face in your neck, his body tightening up as your stomach's growing knot comes undone. Your toes curl, Marcus grips you tighter. You want to scream with absolute pleasure.

You feel extra warm, his cum filling you up. And you cum all over him. The ripples in the tub calm, your breathing heavy and face flushed. The general looks up at you, drunk on pleasure, drunk on your scent, drunk on feeling you. "You're my favorite." Marcus mutters.

"You're my favorite too." You run your hand through his hair, feeling how soft it was.

"Let me clean you up~"

[jolapeno]

imagine taking yourself to the cinema. it's busy, the new release dragging everyone out of their homes, but you've booked a single seat in a random aisle, grabbed your popcorn, oversized drink (because, self-care) and manage to take your seat just as the lights go down.

you spot the faint outline of your seat buddy when the adverts and trailers begin. the way his smile rises up at a pun, how he has curls spewing out of his hat and fingers keep massaging the end of the armrest.

it's also hard to ignore how nice he smells—to the point, that it’s quite distracting, intoxicating, burying itself in your nose as you just admire, silently.

doing so well until a jump scare makes you grab the arm of the seat. heart pounding, popcorn spewed across your lap, not realising for an embarrassing amount of time that you accidentally grabbed his arm—until you felt eyes on you. strangers eyes. nice ones lit up by a brighter scene, finding them all wide and dark as the movie continues flickering random, bright white across his face.

you whisper an apology, removing your fingers and palm from him before he moves closer, “S’okay, you alright?” and you smile, nodding—because somehow, his voice cuts over loud bangs and shouting; his voice all nice, calming, so much so it makes your stomach flutter.

the rest of the movie is a blur. it becoming difficult to pretend you aren’t thinking about the way he sounds, over and over again. doing so when the credits begin rolling, and your body goes into auto-pilot, rising from your seat and leaving, just thinking over and over and over—

and then you halt, stop. pause.

turning on the spot in the crowded bustle of people exiting—eyes scanning, searching, elongating your neck to help as your heart does a steady hammer against your rib cage.

then, you lock eyes with him.

see that same mess of unruly curls, the other side of him hidden by angles, and watch his smile eclipse the rest of his face as he slowly walks towards you with a nervous twitch of his hands.

the moment crystalising, becoming clear. everything else becomes mute, quiet and nothing as he moves through the last people between you both.

“I don’t normally—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I’m frankie.”

your lips rolling together before you hand him your name.

and that’s how you met frankie morales at the movies.

[an: this was literally my dream and i wanted to bless you all with it for frankie friday]

[athousandbyeol]

oh, wow. i don't know what to say...

this episode feels like a fever dream to me. i can't really wrap my head around it. but everything about it is just beautiful. and painful. but so wonderful.

honestly, i had a hard time breathing during the first 10 to 20 minutes of the episode. just because, maybe i'm not used to seeing jiang tian and sheng wang being this 'cold' with/towards each other. from the previous episodes, even though they're standing or talking or looking at each other at a distance, it's always brimming with warmth. but the opening scenes of this episode feel cold and distant and awkward.

and because of that... i cried. hahaha. weird, right?

i didn't cry yesterday even though (in my opinion) episode five was even more heart-wrenching. but this one... i cried multiple times :( probably because I don't like seeing fights commencing (even in real life). this silent treatment and cold shoulder thing; i don't like it. it breaks my heart.

and then sheng wang no longer wants the model student title, letting go of something he doesn't have control over. and jiang tian doesn't want it too—because they're in this together. they trust each other. they only have each other.

and then the clouds are slowly clearing once teacher zhao talked about living without plans or schedules. that epiphany on both sheng wang and jiang tian's face was so moving. and jiang tian just took sheng wang's hand as they ran to their next class. //that was so beautiful. that was one of my favourite scenes in the trailer :(//

and it's just beautiful. when jiang tian asked, "when are you going to reopen?" and feed sheng wang that hawthorn candy... like this is a sign of them making truths.

and when jiang tian said, "don't be half-hearted with me," and sheng wang's instant reply, "from now on, I'll tell you only the truth," oh, God. oh, Lord. my heart was pounding.

something about sheng wang's smile. something about jiang tian's facial features softening. it breaks my heart. but in a good way. the string of fate connecting them right now feels so fragile but so beautiful and honest and pure. i hope it'll be that way for as long as the universe allows them to be happy—before another gush of wind interrupts—before more plans are written on pieces of tear-stained paper.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Catch the Sunrise

As Crosshair struggles to integrate into life on Pabu after being rescued from Mount Tantiss, you try to reconnect with him and draw him out of his shell.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic).

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: angst and whump, care and comfort, Cross is not okay, things do get better, ends hopeful.

A/N: this one is a little different than my other stuff, but its been rattling around in my head ever since I saw the teaser trailer at Celebration for S3. Cross looked so depressed, and goodness I just wanted to scoop up the sad toothpick and give him a cuddle. So, this is what this is – we’re giving him a great big cuddle.

In the stillness of the early morning, as the island slumbered in hushed tones, you stirred in your bed, your eyelids fluttering open to the fading darkness that enveloped your room. The dimming moonlight cast a glow, offering mere glimpses of the familiar shapes around you.

A sudden creak echoed through the silence, and your drowsy mind snapped to attention. Heart skipping a beat as you strained to discern the source of the sound, your breath hitched when a second noise reached your ears: the soft, unmistakable click of the door opposite yours closing.

Sitting up, the covers slipped off you. With cautious movements, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. Every step towards the door seemed to amplify the rhythm of your pounding heart, and you reached for the robe hanging on the back of it, tying it hastily around your body.

You didn’t hesitate to open your door, though you took it slow to avoid the squeak you still hadn’t greased.

The hallway was dimly lit by the faint glow of the night light used to help Omega navigate to the bathroom in the dark, and it threw elongated shadows along the walls. You tiptoed forward, steps deliberate and silent, and peered around the corner.

There, about to head down the stairs, was Crosshair.

It had been six weeks since you’d stormed Mount Tantiss to get him and Omega back, finding Tech in a bacta tank, too.

They’d integrated back into life on Pabu with ease – Omega had started attending the island’s school, while Tech had made it his mission to fix anything he could get his hands on.

But Crosshair… he’d withdrawn. Barely leaving his room, he seemed like a ghost of his former self, lost in his thoughts. The scars from his time with the Empire weren’t just physical but mental, too, and they weighed heavily on him. You’d tried to help him as much as you could, but that stubborn streak of his was hard to break. It was clear that the road to recovery was going to be a long and difficult one, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

You watched him from the shadows, torn between wanting to respect his space and the need to reach out to him. He seemed so distant, so different from the man you’d known during the war – the man who’d at first been frustrated by the presence of a mere civilian in the squad but had then grown protective of you, who’d inked an Aurebesh ‘99’ onto your wrist so you’d finally match him and his brothers, and who’d taught you how to use his rifle when no one else was allowed to touch it.

As Crosshair descended the stairs, you knew this might be your chance to talk to him, to draw him out of his shell. You stepped out from the shadows and called his name softly. He froze, his hand halfway down the handrail, and slowly turned to face you.

It was hard to miss the tiredness that painted his face; those hawkish eyes you’d gazed into thousands of times were now red-rimmed and glassy. Neither of you uttered a word, the silence lingering for a second before he sighed, turning and heading down the rest of the stairs.

You took off after him, tiptoeing to not wake his siblings. Bare feet met the tiled floor of the living room, and you found him at the window, gazing out into the distance. He’d never been a conversationalist, that much was a fact, but he’d barely uttered a word in six weeks, instead opting to respond with small sounds and grunts to convey varying levels of annoyance.

For a moment, you take him in. He was still too slender for your liking – he’d lost the few pounds he’d once had while he’d been in captivity on Tantiss – and he was in desperate need of a shave, grey stubble covering his jawline. His hair was starting to grow back, silver flecks covering his scalp, though you knew it would never hide his scar from Bracca.

Moving forward, you stopped at his side, eyes shifting to look out the window, too. The palm trees swayed a little in the light breeze, the fading moonlight casting an eerie glow. “It’s pretty here, don’t you think?” You ask lowly, not expecting an answer but wanting to at least engage in some sort of conversation with him, to not ignore him.

You knew his siblings were struggling, unsure how best to help him. Tech had naturally gravitated to his twin – the two of them sharing a bond you’d never understand – but he couldn’t get more than one word out of him. Omega still talked Crosshair’s ear off as he sat and silently listened, but he never replied. Wrecker shoved Lula into his face and knocked his shoulder playfully, but there was no grunt of frustration, or angry toothpick flicked in his direction anymore. Echo had left Pabu to help Rex with the fledging rebellion so that left Hunter…

The relationship between the oldest and youngest of the Batch was strained at best. Hunter was trying to build bridges, extending olive branches wherever he could, trying to make up for everything that had happened in the last year, but Crosshair was so lost in his thoughts and troubles that he missed most of them. You’d spent an equal number of nights sitting silently by Crosshair’s side to offer comfort and reassuring Hunter that every attempt he made was good and that his brother would eventually reach out in return when he was ready.

The silence stretches, but from your peripheral, you catch his eyes shifting to you for a moment before he looks back out of the window. “I was thinking of going to the pier to catch the sunrise.” You state. “It should start in an hour. If you’d be up for it, you can join me.” You extend the offer. If you could get him outside, that would be a positive step, but you wouldn’t pressure him. Right now, he reminded you of a feral lothcat needing reassurance, stability, and comfort.

There’s a moment of pause before he gives a slight nod, and it takes everything in you not to smile and jump for joy. His eyes rake back over to you, looking you up and down, taking in the robe you’d hastily pulled on to follow him. “I should change first.” You chuckle quietly. “Give me two minutes.”

It’s instinctual for you to reach out and give his forearm a gentle squeeze, something you’d done often during the war.

As you take the stairs two at a time back to your room to change, you miss how his eyes follow you and then drop to his arm, glued to the spot you’d touched. 

When you return downstairs, he’s pulled on a light jacket and some shoes. You do the same, dragging on your shoes from the cluttered rack near the front door.

Together, you step out of the house that had been a gift from the residents of Pabu – a thank you for saving them from the tsunami and helping them rebuild the island. Instinct kicks in again as you reach for his wrist, fingers wrapping around to help draw him out past the front gate and toward the pier. You’d always reached for him and his brothers, grabbing wrists and hands, touching shoulders or waists as you passed. It had been subconscious, a way to remind yourself that they were safe and you were doing your job as their handler right.

Crosshair doesn’t pull away from your touch. Instead, he focuses on how you hold on to him, how you lead him so effortlessly through the winding streets. It felt odd, a little uncomfortable even, to experience such a soft touch after countless weeks in Hemlock’s clutches and the months before that alone in the Empire’s ranks.

The two of you walk slowly, the gentle noise of your footsteps breaking the quiet of the predawn hours. The island was serene, bathed in the faint glow of the stars and the imminent promise of the rising sun.

Arriving at the wooden pier extending into the calm waters, you both found a spot to settle. Positioning yourself on the edge, legs dangling over the side, Crosshair stood slightly back, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The first hints of daylight began to break the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, the waters below mirroring the beautiful canvas above.

You stole glances at Crosshair, observing his subtle reactions to the scenery. His usually steely demeanour seemed to soften as he stared at the horizon. The faintest hint of a wistful expression flickered across his face, something you hadn’t seen in a while.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a sunrise.” He spoke, the words breaking the silence between you. His voice was raw, hoarse from not being used for an extended period.

“Sunrises have a way of grounding us.” You respond softly, your gaze fixed on the emerging dawn. “It’s a reminder that every day brings a new beginning.”

He remained silent, but a small nod indicated his acknowledgement of your words. The minutes slipped by as the sky transformed into hues of pastel.

Eventually, you turned to him, searching for something to bridge the gap between you. “Cross, they all missed you - Omega, Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter. I missed you, too.”

A fleeting shadow crosses his features, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’m not the same.” He murmurs, barely audible, over the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier.

“No one expects you to be.” You assure him, reaching out tentatively, your hand resting on his forearm again. His muscles tense slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay not to be okay.”

His eyes met yours, the turmoil inside of him evident. “I’m not used to this...feeling.” He admits in a whisper.

“And that’s okay.” You repeat, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone, and you can face this feeling. We’re all here for you in whatever way you need us.”

The sunrise marked a new chapter—a silent understanding between you. You stay by his side, allowing the morning light to wash away the remnants of the night’s darkness, your hand still resting on his arm, anchoring him in the moment. You talk about inconsequential things, about the sea, the island, anything that didn’t carry the weight of the past. Occasionally, he would respond.

As the sun finally emerges in all its glory, painting the world in golden light, a glimmer of something different appears in Crosshair’s eyes. For a moment, it’s like a sliver of the old Crosshair has peeked through the layers of trauma and pain.

You don’t expect everything to change in this one moment. Healing was a process, a gradual journey through the shadows towards the light. But this, this felt like a step forward. A spark of hope.

The day was beginning, and as the island woke, you hoped that this small, shared moment would be the start of something more. A reminder that there was still beauty to be found, bonds to be rebuilt, and healing to be embraced. And that better days lay on the horizon.

[queenshelby]

The Price for Fame (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy x Innocent!Reader

Warning: Manipulation, Infidelity, Smut, Dub-Con, Age-Gap, Cillian is being a bully in this one. It's pure filth.

Three days later, on set, with tension running high, you found yourself back in Cillian's trailer again for another meeting. 

You had screwed up a few scenes, unable to concentrate on your performance due to the mental anguish from the arrangement you had in place with Cillian despite the fact thar you were engaged to a good catholic man.

"I am sorry, I am just having troubles focusing," you told him as soon as you sat foot in his trailer, looking at Cillian with a mixture of shame and frustration in your eyes. You knew that he was upset and that you were in for a lecture after the director had complained about your performance once again. 

"Close the door behind you," was all he said before leaning back in his chair a

You did as you were told and took a seat opposite him, your hands splayed nervously on your lap. 

"It's not like me to mess up my lines like this, honestly, it's just ... I don't know," you began, trying to explain your uncharacteristic lack of focus.

"Like I said, we need to address this urgently. I can't afford to not deliver on this movie, and you really need to pull yourself together Y/N,"  Cillian lectured, his eyes burning holes into you as if trying to force his indignation into your soul.

While part of you wanted to argue, to defend yourself, another part of you just shyly nodded, shrinking beneath his disapproving gaze.

"Yes, I'm really sorry, I just... I don't know. I can't seem to shake this lately," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Listen, Y/N, I have half a mind to re-cast your role. I can't have you so unfocused and distracted when we're shooting such crucial scenes."

You looked at him, eyes wide with shock. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You had dedicated so much time and energy to this role. You had even slept with him twice and now he was threatening to take it all away from you? The thought of losing your part in this film brought you to the brink of tears.

"Please, Cillian," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. "I swear I'll do better. I just need some time to get myself back together."

Cillian leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours. "You have one week," he said, his tone stern. "One week to prove that you can focus and deliver a decent performance, or I'm replacing you."

You nodded frantically, feeling a mix of relief and desperation wash over you. You would do anything to keep your role in this film, even if it meant fighting through your personal struggles.

"Thank you Cillian ," you whispered, your shoulders slumping in exhaustion before you got up from your seat, causing him to shake his head.

"Don't leave just yet Y/N," he spoke gruffly, his tone dripping with need. You looked at him questioningly, your mind still spinning with the impending deadline.

"Come here and show me how thankful you are for this chance," Cillian demanded while suggestively unbuckling his belt.

"Please, Cillian. My fiancé is coming to visit me tonight. I can't do this," you pleaded with him, your desperation turning to panic.

Cillian chuckled before standing up from his seat and stalking towards you.

You backed away, your heart pounding in your chest as Cillian approached. But there was nowhere for you to go in the small trailer. He quickly closed the gap between you, pinning you against the wall.

"Do you want to keep your role in this movie?" he hissed in your ear, his warm breath causing you to shudder.

"Yes, yes, I do!" you stammered just before Cillian unzipped his jeans and freed his lengthy cock.

"Then prove it," he said, prompting you and, with your hands still shaking, you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard shaft. 

Cillian's hands roamed your body, gently but forcefully, leaving no doubt that this was a sexually charged encounter. His large hands gripped your waist as he directed your own hand, guiding you to stroke his cock rhythmically.

You could feel his cock growing harder and thicker with every pump of your delicate hand.

"Good girl. Now get down on your knees," Cillian ordered you and you complied, hesitantly kneeling before him. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind was racing with a mix of fear and guilt.

Feeling nauseous, you took a deep breath and stared at Cillian's cock which was already fully erect, dripping with pre-cum.

"Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue," Cillian demanded, his voice commanding and unyielding.

Reluctantly, you obeyed and stuck out your tongue, completely humiliated and submissive. Cillian smeared his pre-cum on your tongue with his finger, making you shudder with disgust.

"Hmm , good girl," he said, before he pushed his cock into your mouth, filling your mouth and throat, causing you to gag instantly. You tried to pull away, but Cillian gripped your hair tightly, preventing any escape.

"No, no, no. You're going to make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep sucking it like a good little girl," Cillian moaned as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. The feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat and the taste of his pre-cum was nauseating and arousing at the same time while Cillian's grip on your hair kept you from pulling away.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and trickled down your neck as you tried to take slow, shallow breaths. You could feel yourself starting to gag on his cock, but Cillian's hold on your hair tightened, and he kept pushing further down your throat.

"That's it. Keep sucking. That's it. Swallow it all, baby," he whispered lewdly as he grabbed your head, pulling you down onto his cock more roughly.

You gagged again, your throat constricting around his thick shaft. Cillian, sensing your discomfort, slowed down, pumping in and out of your mouth more leisurely, giving you time to adjust.

As he continued, his movements became faster, his guts churning in anticipation of orgasm. 

" Fuck, you're getting better at this," he grunted, his tone strained with pleasure. You could feel his balls tighten, signalling that he was close to releasing.

"You are going to swallow every drop of my cum, aren't you Y/N?" Cillian asked, clearly enjoying the dominance he was exerting on you and the thought of swallowing his seed made you feel sick.  But you knew it was the price you had to pay if you wanted to keep your job so you nodded, meekly and obediently.

"Good girl," Cillian cooed as he began to thrust his hips more frantically, pumping in and out of your mouth. Before long, he let out a deep groan, his cock pulsing as he erupted inside of your mouth.

You could taste his bitter semen on your tongue, feeling it slide down your throat. You tried to swallow it as quickly as possible, not wanting to linger on the taste and texture.

Cillian finally pulled out of your mouth, a sated grin on his face. He tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped them up before sitting back down in his chair. "That was good," he said simply, leaving you kneeling on his floor with tears streaming down your face. "You can get up now," he added, not even bothering to apologize for what he had just done.

You slowly got to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The taste  of Cillian's semen was still lingering on your tongue, making you feel even more disgusted with yourself.

"I need to go," you murmured quietly, your voice hoarse from the recent forced oral.

Cillian just nodded, a smug grin on his face. "Sure thing, but I want to see you again tonight, just before you see your fiancé," he said, not even bothering to look at you as you made your way to the door.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of shame and anger as you stepped out of his trailer, the door slamming shut behind you.

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[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 8 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: 🫠

Warnings: Dom Steddie and plus size sub reader and all that that implies! (I regret nothing!). Smut for sure. Degrading (whore, brat, slut I believe), slapping, choking, handcuffs 🫠, DP, overstimulation as a punishment. Jealous Steddie especially Steve, Steve and Billy fight (mentions of the aftermath), angsty feels with a dash of fluff near the end!

Word count: 5668

After that night at Steve’s house, the next few months felt like they flew by; for you anyway. When you weren’t with the guys or Masie, you were busy with school and basketball. By the time December rolled around, you were ecstatic for the upcoming winter break. 

Since you had been helping them with their schoolwork, Steve had finally taken you up on your offer to sit with you and your friend at lunch. Masie hated it at first but after noticing the turnaround he had made from last year she started to actually enjoy his presence. 

“It makes no fucking sense.”, Steve whined as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s science. None of it makes sense.”, she giggles. 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you too much with that. I mean I have my notes but physics isn’t my forte. Eddie may know something.”

“Munson is into science fiction. Not the same thing.”

“Eh, it feels like it is.”, Masie shrugs as she looks over her own work. 

A gentle sigh left your chest as you felt Steve’s legs lean against yours under the table. It was so hard for you to keep your hands off them at school and it seemed to be just as equally hard for them. One day during your free period, Steve pulled you into a nearby closet outside of the gym and fucked you against the wall as you tried not to scream, giving yourselves away. 

After a heated D&D session during a Hellfire club meeting, Eddie bent you over the table and pounded into you until you were quiet literally begging him to stop because you had cum too many times.

Of course, after the rough, the calm followed. One weekend, they took you to see the new Wes Craven movie, A Nightmare on Elm Street, that freaked Steve out but Eddie thought was amazing. Eddie took you to your first concert just outside of town and you had a blast listening to Dio live. Your favorite part though was being able to fall asleep next to him at his trailer afterwards. He looked so peaceful when he slept and all the anxieties he seemed to carry just disappeared.

Steve took you to a play at the theater and even bought you a beautiful dress that you loved. When the production started, he seemed bored until you held his hand and leaned against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head as you smiled.

The sound of the bell shook you back into the moment as the three of you headed to your next class. This particular class you and Steve had together but you also shared it with Billy who continued to make the boy’s life hell. Today was different, however. Instead of coming in and flirting with you like he usual did, Billy angrily sauntered in and threw his body into the chair next to you. 

Anger was just radiating off him which is something you had seen in with Eddie and Steve. It wasn’t just a normal type of anger but one mixed with pain.

“Can I help you?”, he snapped. You hadn’t realized you were staring at him. 

“Are…are you alright?”

“Like you fucking care.”

“Hey!”, Steve growled. “Don’t talk to her that way.”

Billy glared at the boy as class begun. About halfway through you felt a light tap on your shoulder as a note slid across your desk. 

I’m sorry if I scared you, pretty girl. Just had a rough morning.

You turn your head to see him gently smiling at you, his blue eyes shimmering as they meet yours. 

You don’t scare me. You just aren’t displaying your usual arrogance is all.”

Billy chuckles as he leans back in his seat, writing something down before handing the paper back to you.

God, baby, do I love your attitude. 

ARE you alright?

My dad and I had a disagreement…about respect.

Your heart breaks slightly as you glance at him again. Just like Eddie and Steve, he seemed to have a shitty dad but unlike them it didn’t seem like he wanted to try and become a better man. If anything, you imagined his father probably carried the same demeanor Billy did.

You handed the note back to him without writing anything in return and he huffed a bit before passing it back to you. 

I can probably teach you a thing or two about respect, baby girl. If you’d let me. I assure you a bitch like Steve Harrington can only teach beautiful women like yourself that there are better men out there who can satisfy and take care of you. 

As the bell rung you crumpled the note and threw it at his chest as you rose to your feet. When your eyes met Steve’s firey ones you knew you were in trouble. 

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

“Tina is having a party tonight. Are we going or…?”

“That is the vaguest invite I’ve ever gotten to a party.”, you giggle as you place the book in your hands back onto the shelf. “Who’s Tina?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. Fucking Tina!”, Masie smiles. “It’s supposed to be a big thing. Eddie will be there.”, she teases as you roll your eyes. 

You follow behind her as she continues to walk forward, heading towards the next aisle of books in the library when suddenly a ringed hand darted out from a dark room and pulled you in, closing the door. 

“Jesus! You scared me.” You breathed a sigh of relief as your eyes landed on Eddie and Steve. 

“Good. You should be scared. What were you and Billy Hargrove talking about?”, the metalhead asked. 

Your eyes lulled towards the other boy full of annoyance. “First off, tattle tell. Second, nothing. He yelled at me before class and just wanted to apologize.”

“That guy isn’t the type to apologize, Y/N.”

“Harrington, you didn’t tell me he yelled at her.”

“Hey, I got on him, alright? And even if he was ‘just apologizing’ like she claims then why were they going back and forth until the bell rang? He definitely said more than that.”

Your eyes met Eddie’s as understanding flashed through them. 

“Ah. I see. Seems they were talking about you, Stevie.”

“What about me?” The boy stepped back so his friend could take over as he loomed over you. “Answer the question. What the fuck did that asshole say?”

“Please…let it go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Oh. Okay, I get it. You think he’s better than me, hm?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Steve hand gripped your throat as he walked you back towards the wall. “Then what are you saying?”

“Why does it matter, Daddy? He’s not important.”

“It matters, little girl, because I say it does. Now…this is the last chance I’m giving you before we raise the blinds and spank you in front of all these people outside.”

You sighed as your head hung, telling him everything Billy had said. While you were talking, Steve’s palm had slide down your arm and steadily began tightening his grip as he got angrier. 

Eddie noticed the panicked look in your eyes as he stepped forward. “Ok, Harrington. She did good and answered you. Loosen your hold or let her go, man.” 

The boy blinked back into the moment, releasing you before opening the door to the study room and disappearing. 

“I just didn’t want to hurt him.”

“I know, sweetheart.”, Eddie pulled you into his arms. “I know. He’ll cool down by tonight. What did you want to do tonight, by the way? I was thinking we could rent a movie or something.”

“I can’t come over tonight. Masie invited me to go to a party with her.”

The boy pulled back from your embrace and sat on the table in front of you as he crossed his arms. “You didn’t say anything about a party before.”

“She just told me about it. I don’t know the host but it could be fun. You guys should come.”

“So, you’re going to a party at someone’s house you don’t know filled with people who have bullied you and hurt you at the last party you went to?”

Your eyes scanned his annoyed demeanor. “What the problem, Eddie?” His eyebrows raised as your jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Thank you. The problem is I don’t think you should go. You have all the popular assholes and I’m sure this other douchebag will be there.”

“Then come with me and show him who I belong to.”

Eddie sighs as he shakes his head. “No.”

A growl emits from your throat and his head snaps up to look at you. “Did Steve tell you that Billy calls me names like ‘pretty girl’ and ‘baby girl’ to? Hell, he shouts it in the fucking hallway. Why are you both still afraid to be seen with me at school?”

“First of all, you watch you tone when you’re speaking to me. Second, we are not afraid to be seen with you.”

“Oh please! Yeah, Steve sits with us at lunch but people think it’s because we’re dorks who help him with his homework. You guys didn’t even sit with me in our classes. Billy did.”

“I see. Then why don’t you go fuck him then!”

“Don’t test me, Eddie. I am NOT that shy girl anymore.” You both glare at each other. “You may be in charge of me or whatever but I deserve to be shown off.”

When he doesn’t respond, you huff out of the study room on a mission. 

“Y/N, where have you been? I’ve been looking—”

You pass by Masie out of the library and into the parking lot where you find Billy smoking a cigarette by his car. 

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Do you want to go to a party with me tonight?!”

“Whoa. Um…yeah, sure. Sounds like fun.”

When you turn back around, you find Eddie, Steve, and Masie staring at you like you’ve gone insane. As you head back and grab your friend’s arm, you address them. “I deserve to be seen. I’m tired of everything being unclear!”

You were playing with fire but to you it was worth it.

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

“Wow. You look breath taking.” 

You smiled as Billy held his car door open for you. Tonight, you decided to go all out wearing a beautiful short sleeve dress that cut off just above your knee. The top was black and the skirt was a bright purple with a belt cutting the colors in half in the middle. Instead of wearing Eddie’s jacket, you decided on a black jacket of your own that still showed off your curves. Thankfully, your parents were out of town this weekend so they wouldn’t make you wear something else. 

The entire drive to Tina’s, Billy kept glancing over at your body.

“How, um, how are things with your dad? Did he still get on your case when you got home?”

He chuckled until he realized you were genuinely asking. “Oh, uh, no. They weren’t home and my stepsister is out with friends so no one to get on my case.”, he winks. 

“I get that. Is your mom a bit of hard ass as well?”

“No. Susan is alright.” You noticed his tone change so you decided to leave it there. “What about you?”

“My parents can be strict but nothing too dramatic.”

“Hm. How do they feel about you and King Steve?”

“There’s nothing between me and Steve.”

“Uh huh. Sure, honey. I’m not an idiot and I’m not blind. He obviously has a thing for you and vise versa. What I don’t get is why neither of you makes a move. Is it because of that long haired dude everyone calls a freak? I’ve seen you talk to him to. Keeping your options open?”

You exhale at his line of questioning, mostly because it’s loaded with condescension towards Steve and Eddie.

“I assume that’s why you invited me to this party. Hey, I’m not upset. I’ve told you before I’m more than happy to show you how a real man treats a queen like you, gorgeous.”

As soon as he pulls up to the house, you recognize Eddie’s van immediately. You look around for him and Steve, oddly feeling lonely that they weren’t beside you. Billy leads you into the kitchen and hands you a cup filled with bitter liquid. He laughs as you cough and rubs your back. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t handle your alcohol, baby girl!”, he shouts over the music. Some of the other kids swarm around him including Tommy. 

“Wow, Y/N. Getting around I see.”

Billy glares at him as he pulls the boy by the collar. “Hey! You show the lady some respect, asshole.”

Tommy holds up his hands in defense as he and some of the other boys head outside with Billy in tow. You refill your cup and slosh it back before following after them. As they set him up in front of keg, a strong cologne smell you’ve come to enjoy fills the air. 

“Having a good time?” Steve stands beside you as he watches the display before him. 

“I would hope so especially since I told her not to come.” Eddie snapped the lighter closed after lighting the cigarette in his mouth. 

“Yeah and then you told me I should just fuck him so…”, you shrug.

“Hm. Well you’ll have to tell us if he lives up to that promise of ‘being a better man that can satisfy you’.” 

You feel the tears sting your eyes as they speak. 

“Eddie told me what you said about wanting to be seen. I guess taking you on dates in town and spending time with you outside of school isn’t enough. We should smack a name tag on you or something that says ‘Eddie and Steve’s girl.’” When he finally turns to look at you, his eyes fully drink you in. “Still can’t just fucking be, can we?”

“Harrington!”, Billy saunters over with beer dribbling down his abs. “You had your chance. Pretty girl said she wanted to spend tonight with me. Go play with someone else.”

Eddie’s fists clench at his sides as he stops himself from punching the man in front him for putting his hands on you. You were theirs. Billy was touching something that belonged to them and what was worse was you didn’t move away or recoil at his touch but instead walked back inside the house with him.

After that moment, the tension in the air hangs between the three of you that no one else seems to notice. While you sit on the couch with your date, your eyes dart around, watching Steve dance with another girl while another flirtatiously runs her hand along Eddie’s chest as he leans in close to talk to her over the music. 

Angrily, you rise from your seat and head towards the kitchen to get more fuel for what you were about to do. 

“Hey! Hey, hey. You don’t need any more.” Billy reaches over trying to take the now empty up cup from your hand. 

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

His gorgeous blue eyes narrow down at as he smirks, bumping you with his chest as he gradually walks you back towards the counter. 

“Do you want me to?”

Your lips attach to his as you cling to his neck. He tasted better then you thought he would but the overpowering hint of nicotine was almost too much. Eddie tasted like cigarettes but he was a delicious mix of other things that drove you crazy. Steve’s lips always lingered with you even after you stopped kissing him. The best way to describe his taste was just that it was Steve. You could kiss them both until your own lips went numb. With Billy, you couldn’t remove his mouth from yours fast enough. 

They trailed down your neck as his strong palms gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the countertop. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he grinded against your center. When you opened your eyes they met Eddie’s as he leaned against the fridge watching with his arms folded. He glanced out into the living room before turning to face you again, rising 3 fingers in the air. A shaky breath left you as he began counting down and as soon as he hit zero, Steve came into view. 

He asked the metalhead what he was doing before turning to you. Your pussy fluttered as you watched the fire quickly build in his eyes. 

“Billy…”, you whispered as Steve confidently strides towards you both.

“Yeah, baby?”

The man grabs his shoulder, yanking him around before punching him in the face. As he flies towards the opposite counter, Steve roughly grips your waist and places you on your feet, shoving you towards Eddie and out of the way. 

Billy laughs sarcastically as he stands to face him, taking a swing of his own as the boy tucks out of the way and hits him again. The other man grabs a nearby cup throwing the liquid in Steve’s face before punching him in the stomach. 

“No!” You lurch forward but Eddie grips your arm, pulling you back as he steps forward to take over. Coming from behind he grips the man’s arms, tugging him off of his friend. 

“Now, William, if you can’t fight fair then we won’t either.”

Steve stands to his full height and grabs Billy’s collar. “No more nicknames. No more hitting on her. No more even looking in her direction. She belongs to people already and you’re not one of them. Do I make myself clear?” The boy glares at him as his jaw tightens causing Steve to punch him again. “I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Good boy.” He pats his cheek as Eddie tosses him to the ground. Steve bypasses you as the metalhead grabs your arm and follows him out the front door towards his van. 

“You’re hurting me, Sir.” Your tone is feeble as you try and tug yourself out of his grasp. 

“Oh, did you hear that, Harrington? Calling me by my title like she knows how to follow instructions.”

They open the backdoors of the van and all but lift you inside before slamming the doors shut. As Eddie starts to drive down the road you sit behind his seat as you cling to your knees. You glance at Steve who’s still fuming as he glares out the windshield. You can’t help the tears that fall as you notice a cut that’s bleeding above his cheekbone near his eye where Billy had hit him. His attire still completely trenched in red punch. 

Steve’s eyes flick down towards you before he focuses his attention back to the window. “Save those tears, Y/N. We’re about to give you a real reason to fucking cry.”

“Daddy…I’m…I’m sorry.”

“No, little girl, but you will be.”

###########

As soon as you got three got back to Steve’s house, he pulled you out of the van and pushed you through the house till you reached his bedroom. 

“I think you should take over until I’ve calmed down a bit.”

“You. Sit.” Eddie gestures towards the bed and you immediately do as your told. “Do you want me to take care of his welt on your face?”

“No, dude. Not yet. Let her continue to see what her stupid fucking actions did.”, he spits as he takes a seat in his desk chair.

They expected to see you pout but when you squared your shoulders, it surprised them. “You were flirting with other girls to. I saw it!”

“Oh? You saw us kissing on other girls? Grinding our dicks between their legs?” You hung your head at Eddie’s words. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you fucking whore. Now shut the fuck up while I talk to Harrington here.”

“You also invited him and rode with him to Tina’s house. Who knows what else you did with him before you got there!”

“Nothing, Daddy! I swear!”

The metalhead digs through some of the other man’s things and finds what he is looking for. He marches up to you, tearing the duct tape from the role and placing it over your mouth. 

“Shut. Up.” He turns to Steve. “What were you thinking? Spanking?”

“I don’t know…she might enjoy that too much.”

“I know something she won’t enjoy.” A wicked smirk spreads across his face as he disappears heading outside towards his van. 

Steve’s eyes penetrate yours as you both wait. “So did he prove himself? Show you what a real man can do for a girl like you?” He chuckled when you shook your head. “That’s a shame. Makes all this drama seem like a waste. You fucking hurt me tonight. Way more than this.” He points to the cut on his face. 

“I—we--- missed you so fucking much while you were in New York this summer. We talked about you all the time. ‘Oh, when Y/N gets back maybe we can take her here.’ Or ‘Yeah, I think Y/N would enjoy this.’ Then you come back and we take fucking care of you yet it’s not enough?!” He sighs as Eddie enters the room again. “I’m sorry we apparently haven’t been clear enough about how much we fucking like you. Or maybe we made a mistake in trying this you because WE aren’t enough.”

You felt like absolute garbage. Steve was right. Since you had come home, they had done so much for you, showing you time and again how much they cared for you. Yeah, they didn’t parade you around school but they did spend time with you there; Steve sitting with you and befriending Masie while Eddie had even invited you to watch him and his friends play D & D in their Hellfire club. Literally the alternative would be to smack a name tag on you showing that they owned you. How had you never noticed before?

Eddie sat by your side as he removed the tape and tossed it on the floor. “Have you ever heard of the stop light system?” You shook your head as the tears cascaded down your face. “Green is good, Yellow is slow down, and usually Red is stop but in our case it’s Vanilla. So for example, right now, I’m seeing you cry like that and it’s scaring me a bit so I’m going to ask you what color you feel you are at right now.”

You wipe your face, turning to face him. “Green, Sir. I just… I feel so selfish.”

Eddie nods as he reaches for your wrists and clicks a set of handcuffs around one of them. “Too tight?”

“No, Sir. Thank you.”

He lifts your dress over your head before guiding you back against the pillows and chaining you to Steve’s headboard. His fingers gently remove your shoes tossing your clothes to the floor. 

His palms run down your skin as he watches your face. 

“Why do you feel selfish, little girl?”

“Because…Daddy is right. You both…have—”

While you were speaking, Eddie had slid his hand between your legs and had began pressing slow circle into your clit.

“Go on.”

“You both h-h-have been good to me—mmm—since I got hom-m-me.” He had gradually picked up his pace making you moan. “Why?”

“Why have we been good to you?”

You shook your head. “Why are you—mmm—making me f-feel good?”

“Good question, Munson.”, Steve squinted towards his friend.

“Watch the master work, Harrington.”, he winks. “Speaking off, can you grab the thing in my backpack. You’ll know it when you see it.” He chuckles as your body trembles and you cum. “I got the idea when I fucked her on our D &D table and that night we were trying not to bore her. I did some research and apparently, it’s very effective.”

“Eddie…please…”, you beg. You know where he’s headed with this. Rolling his eyes, he smacks you lightly across the face. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Still fucking apologizing instead of just listening the first time and following the fucking rules.” Eddie thanks Steve as he hands him a white wand. “I had to go two hours outside of Hawkins to buy this thing. This town is so closed minded, I swear. Now this, little girl, is wand. Makes sense, I mean it looks like one.” He displays it in front of you as the other boy plugs it into the socket by the wall. 

The metalhead pushes a button and it vibrates to life. “Now like most wands, this thing is magic.” He abruptly presses to your clit and you cry out at the feeling, your eyes promptly rolling back. “Supposedly, Stevie, this little vibrator is guaranteed to make someone cum hard every…single…time.” Between each word he pushes the device aggressively against you. 

They giggle as you pull against your restraints, your feet kicking nothing as you cum faster and harder than you ever had before. Three orgasms later and you body feels completely worn out. 

“Sir…please…it’s too much.”

“Aw poor baby. Is this too intense for your little pussy to take?” Eddie laughs as you nod. “Steve, why don’t you give her something else to focus on.”

The boy grins as he removes his shirt and takes off his pants with his boxers before crawling on the bed above your head.

“Can your hands still tap the headboard?”

“Yes, Daddy.” The metal clanks as you adjust your wrists slightly and prominently smack it with your palm. 

“Good girl. If you need to stop or get our attention just tap twice.” As soon as you confirm, he straddles his knees just above your shoulders, tapping your lips with his cock. “Open your mouth.” You do as he commands, bobbing your head as he groans. 

Eddie collects some of the slick between your folds, making you moan around Steve as he pushes two of his fingers deep inside of you. 

“God damn. You’re so fucking tight right now, sweetheart. Fuck. I can’t wait to stretch you open.” 

Steve grips your hair in his fingers. “Flatten your tongue. That’s it. Just like that.” His eyes squeeze shut as he pants out moans, thrusting in small motions as you gag around him. 

“Tonight, Y/N, we’re going to show you what Billy thought he was man enough to do.” The metalhead presses the wand on your bundle of nerves as he pumps his fingers into you. “We are the real men that can take care of and handle a woman like you. After tonight there will never be a fucking doubt in your mind.”

Steve felt your moans vibrate around him as you began to climax again, holding your head still as your throat practically closed around him. You coughed as he released you, shimmying his body till he was straddling your hips. He wiped your face with his arm as he scanned you for any signs of discomfort. “C-color?” The boy wasn’t used to asking yet, making a mental note to ask Eddie more questions about things like this later. 

“Green, Daddy.” Your gravel filled voice was just making him harder; if it’s possible. 

A now naked Eddie pushed Steve’s shoulder, signaling for him to get on the other side of you. He turns you on to your side facing him, lifting your leg over his waist. His lips passionately kiss yours as his hand holds the back of your neck. You whimper, feeling his cock breach your sex.

Your pussy clenches around him as you watch his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he slowly thrusts his hips, feeling you grip him tightly. 

Eddie tries to keep his eyes open as you lean your forehead on his when Steve runs his dick along your ass. The metalhead brings your mouth to this again, holding you to him as he feels you wince, the other man entering your body. “You’re ok. You’re ok, baby.”, he whispers as you tug against your restraints. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl. Taking us both. I told you; no one will ever make you feel this good.” He gradually began picking up his pace as Steve began to do the same.

“He told me—fuck—about us falling asleep inside you. Maybe next time—mmm—you fucking behave we can…we can do that. God damn, Y/N.”

Steve hadn’t said a word but his grunts were music to your ears. His arms had wrapped around to your front, massaging your breasts as he occasionally kissed and sucked on your shoulder. 

The pain had long subsided and all that was left was the overwhelming pleasure of having them inside of you, hitting all the right places as they stretched you open. 

As you came, you screamed, feeling like your body was going to explode into a million pieces. Eddie followed, unable to hold back any longer as he hugged your head to his chest and released inside of you. Steve’s fingers dug into your hips as he held you, climaxing with a strangled grunt as his forehead pressed to your back. 

You three laid still for awhile until you couldn’t take the soreness in your arms any longer. “Eddie…”, you whimpered. The sound of his name caused his head to shoot up at attention. “My wrists hurt.”

“Shit. Baby, ok, let me…” He held your waist as he pulled out of you, reaching above you to click you free. “Y/N, you said they weren’t tight.” You followed his eyes to where you had deep red indents on your skin.

“They weren’t. Maybe I pulled on ‘em to hard.”, you pout. Your breath stutters as Steve carefully pulls out of you as well and slides off the bed. 

“Ed, go ahead and get a bath going. I’ll be right back.”

“Can you walk, sweetheart?”

“Yeah…just not very fast.”

He grins as he takes your hand and helps you off the mattress, guiding you towards the bathroom. “Well shit. Either Harrington is testing out new body washes or he got these for you.” A nice delicate smell fills the room as Eddie pours some of the liquid into the water. 

“I didn’t know what kind you liked so I just got what I thought smelled good.”, Steve came in with some bandages and an ice pack in his hands. “If you hate it just tell me—”

“No! I love it. What is it?”

His eyes light up a bit at your smile. “Um, it’s supposed to smell like the beach.”

“I’ve never been to the beach.”

“We’ll have to rectify that, immediately. Climb in, princess.” He reaches for your hand but you fold your arms tightly around your body. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I want to ask you both to sit with me but…I don’t think I deserve it.”

Eddie’s fingers lift your chin as he flashes you a comforting smile. “Nice to know meek Y/N IS still in there somewhere. Ask us, baby. Like you need it.”

“I do need it. Will you please sit with me?”

He reaches for your hand again as he climbs into the tub and you follow. Steve does the same, shifting the items in his hands as he places them on the side. You flinch as Eddie cleans you, leaning against his chest as you burrow into his neck making him chuckle.

“I may just settle for scarfs or ribbons or something because this?” He holds up your arms to display your wrists. “I don’t like this.”

“I didn’t even realize…”

Steve places the ice pack on them and you hiss at the cold. A comfortable silence falls between you three as Eddie traces his finger along your back and down your arms. 

“I’m sorry… for everything. You’re right. I mean even if we didn’t have this.”, you gesture between you. “You do a lot for me and I have so much fun with you guys outside of the bedroom. I don’t know, I guess I just hate that guys like Billy feel like they can hit on me freely and vice versa.”

You reached for the antiseptic Steve had brought and leaned forward to clean the cut on his face, feeling his eyes scanning over you as he heavily sighs. “I’m sorry if we made you feel like you don’t deserve to be seen. We just thought since this is so unorthodox, you’d want to keep it a secret but Y/N, I don’t hide that I like spending time with you or that you’re my friend. I was telling someone the other day about that creepy fucking movie we saw.”

“Oh my god, Harrington. Calm down. It wasn’t even that bad.”

“Munson, the dude pulled a guy THROUGH his bed and tossed back his blood. What the fuck?!”

You giggled as you placed the tiny Band-Aid over his cut. “Evil Dead is much worse.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Hm, debatable.”

“I told the Hellfire guys about the concert we went to.”, Eddie grinned as you leaned back against his chest. “Next month, Poison is coming to town and they said we should all go. I, um, I don’t actually have a lot of people to tell or talk to but, um, Wayne wants to meet you one of these days.”

Your own grin grows as the remaining tension leaves the air. 

“Can I ask you something before we pretend that you never went on a date with Billy Hargrove?” Steve smiles as you laugh and nod. “I have to know…is his kissing like God’s gift to mankind?”

“Dear Lord, no. That was one of, if not, the worst kiss I’ve ever experienced and I’m not just saying that! It was like…kissing an aggressive ashtray.”

They both cackle as you wrap Eddie’s arms around you and place your legs in Steve’s lap. 

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @local-stoner-bitch

“Well, thank goodness he’s pretty then.”

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

@katethetank @danandphilequalsmemes @luna-munson83

@sidthedollface2 @mandyjo8719 @bexreastoomuch

@chelebelletx @shayeddie @emmalee-01 @anaibis

@wroteclassicaly @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.27

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.

She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.

The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.

She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.

Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.

The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.

It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.

Clint-

Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-

She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.

Clint-

Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 

I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  

Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.

She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.

It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.

“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 

Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.

“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.

The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.

There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.

“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 

 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 

The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.

Pt.28

A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime

[gloomysoup]

when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating)

hello hello i bring you some actual writing for once how exciting !! this is based off this post by @acowardinmordor once i saw it my brain just wouldn't stop until i fleshed it out into something relatively coherent so here it is !! if this does well i'll probably put it up on ao3 later

ao3 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: drugs, illusions to drug abuse and overdose, minor character death, illusions to major character death (probably temporary), panic attack, medical crisis

When Eddie was eight years old, he found his mother on the bathroom floor, a half-empty bottle of pills in her hand. She wouldn't wake up. Eddie hadn't known what to do, so he wandered across the way to his favorite neighbor’s house. Mrs. Westbrooke was an older widow who'd lived in the same house for decades. Once Eddie had told her his mom wasn't waking up, she called for an ambulance. The paramedics came and took his mom to the hospital. Eddie stayed with Mrs. Westbrooke until Wayne came to pick him up.

That was the first time he spent more than a night or two at Wayne’s. It was about a week and a half before he was taken back home. The same thing happened a year and a half later. His mom passed out on the kitchen floor that time, and it was a baggie of colorful pills instead. Something she'd gotten from a friend of his dad. Something his dad had gotten her hooked on several months prior, when the doctor stopped writing her prescriptions. He was with Wayne for three days before his dad came to get him. Two weeks later, he was on Wayne’s doorstep with a single bag of everything he owned, his dad behind bars. He'd been with Wayne ever since.

His uncle had made a promise to him that first night, when Eddie finally realized this was it. He was with Wayne for good. There was no going back. He'd promised Eddie none of that would ever happen again. He didn't have to worry about Wayne disappearing in the flashing red and blue lights. He wouldn't find him half-dead on the floor of their trailer. He was safe. Eddie believed him. For years, Eddie believed Wayne was right. He'd never once let Eddie down before. He was always there. He took him in when he had nowhere else to go.

Too bad Wayne couldn't have predicted this.

New York City. June 1994. A sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Eddie on stage with his best friends. His boyfriend watching from the wings. How it was always supposed to go.

The air was fizzing with energy. The crowd was screaming so loud. Eddie’s heart was pounding, blood rushing with adrenaline. He kissed Steve hard in the green room, a promise between them of more to come. Steve wished him luck, and it was time to take the stage. They'd finally made it. All their hard work was paying off.

About halfway through the set, Steve disappeared. Eddie wasn't worried. He didn't know he should've been. When they came off stage, the crowd was still screaming, and the band was riding the high of a great show. It felt amazing. It was more than they ever dreamed, growing up the way they did in a town like Hawkins. Eddie was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Anyone seen Steve?” he asked, handing off his guitar and starting to pull off his mic pack.

“Not for a while,” one of the techs responded. “Said something about the bathroom, I think, but he never came back.”

Eddie frowned, a little confused. It wasn't like Steve not to be there when he came off stage.

“He's probably just waiting in the green room, Ed,” Gareth said, knocking his shoulder against Eddie’s as he passed. “I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.”

Eddie didn't hang around with the others. He headed straight for the green room, hoping Gareth was right. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The same feeling he got all those years ago, right before he opened the front door to find his mom on the kitchen floor. It ate away at his insides, churning deep and uncomfortably. His heart was racing, and it was no longer due to the high energy of the show. Panic was coursing through his veins.

His hand hesitated on the door to the green room. He felt eight years old again, knocking on Mrs. Westbrooke’s door when he couldn't wake his mom up to make dinner. His hands trembled as he grabbed the knob and twisted, easing it open. The room was empty. Eddie’s heart plummeted. Steve wasn't there. Steve was missing, and Eddie had this horrible feeling spreading through his entire body. He still wasn't sure why the feeling was there; he had never once had a reason to believe Steve was doing anything harder than weed. It was still there, though, and Eddie was panicking. He needed to find Steve. He had to make sure Steve was okay.

He headed for the bathroom next. The techs had said he went to the bathroom. Maybe something happened. Maybe he hit his head and couldn't remember where he was. The feeling said otherwise, but Eddie refused to believe it. He was overreacting. Steve was fine.

He was lying to himself.

The bathroom door was unlocked. He pushed it open, knocking. “Steve? Are you in here?” he called. He could barely hear through the rush of blood in his ears. He stepped inside, and he was sure his heart stopped beating altogether.

Just like that, he was ten years old. His mother was dead on the kitchen floor. Mrs. Westbrooke held him on her front porch as his mother was taken away in a blur of red and blue. He was ten years old, watching Wayne’s old pickup coming up the drive. Through the pounding in his ears, he could faintly hear the gravel crunching under the tires of the red truck. An odd comfort. A reminder of safety. What he wouldn't give to have that again right now.

“She wouldn't wake up, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said softly, his voice trembling as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

Wayne bent down, his old knees creaking, and pulled Eddie into a tight hug. “I'm sorry, Ed.” He squeezed tighter, letting Eddie bury his face in his worn flannel. “You're gonna come stay with me for a couple days, ‘til everythin' gets settled.”

“I don't got any clothes, Wayne.”

“Don't you worry ‘bout that right now. We’ll figure somethin’ out. I promise it’ll be alright.”

Steve was lying on the bathroom floor. Eddie couldn't breathe. There was a bag of colorful pills, so similar to the ones his mom had taken, sitting on the sink counter. Next to it was a line of white powder. Eddie’s vision blurred with tears as he dropped next to Steve, shaking his shoulder.

“Steve? Steve, baby, wake up. Please wake up.” Eddie was gasping for breath through his sobs as he tried to shake Steve awake. It wasn't working. He wasn't waking up.

“Mama? Mama, come on. You gotta get up.” Eddie crouched down next to her, shaking her shoulder. “Mama, please. You can't sleep on the floor.”

“Please, baby,” Eddie begged, pulling Steve into his arms on the bathroom floor. “Please. I can't lose you too, Steve. You gotta wake up. Please wake up.”

“Eddie? Are you okay?” The bathroom door opened. Jeff walked in, stopping dead in the doorway. It only took a few seconds for him to gain his bearings and jump into action. He crossed quickly, bending down next to them. “Shit. What happened?”

“I- he- he won't wake up, Jeff,” Eddie sobbed, still holding Steve tightly.

“Okay. Okay, let's not panic yet.”

The cracks in Jeff’s voice were not comforting. Eddie was already panicking. He'd been panicking since the feeling started to solidify, since he didn't find Steve in the green room. Eddie was well past not panicking. Eddie was teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

Jeff glanced around, took notice of the drugs on the counter, the way Steve’s chest wasn't rising or falling. He wasn't breathing at all. Jeff stood up quickly. “I'll go get help. I’ll be right back, Eddie. It's gonna be okay.”

Jeff ran from the bathroom. Eddie could barely hear the slap on his shoes on the linoleum in the hall over the sound of his own sobbing, the blood still rushing in his ears despite it feeling like his heart had stopped beating. He held Steve against his chest, burying his face in his hair. He silently begged the universe not to take Steve away from him. He wouldn't be able to handle losing anyone else. He needed Steve.

Eddie wasn't sure how much time passed before Jeff came back, paramedics in tow. All he knew was that Steve wasn't waking up. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he begged and cried, Steve wasn't waking up. His skin was pale and starting to grow cold. There's remnants of white powder on his nose. The paramedics try to move him from Eddie’s arms, but Eddie can't let go. He can't lose Steve.

“Eddie, you have to let go,” Jeff said gently, trying to tug Eddie’s arms off Steve.

Eddie shook his head. “I- I can't- can't, Jeff,” he forced out between sobs.

“The paramedics are gonna help him, Ed, but they can't do that unless you let go.”

“The paramedics are gonna try to help your mama, honey,” Mrs. Westbrooke promised eight-year-old Eddie as they watched from her porch. “Everything'll be alright, don't you worry.”

He missed Mrs. Westbrooke. He wished she were here to hold him, tell him he would be okay. He wanted to sit on her porch in the creaky rocking chairs, eating fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. He wanted safety and familiarity. It'd been a hard day for Eddie when the old woman died. He'd give anything to be back there with her, instead of here in this living nightmare.

Eddie reluctantly released Steve. The paramedics moved him to lie flat on the floor. Jeff’s arms wrapped around Eddie as he continued to sob. Eddie’s hands grasped at Jeff’s shirt. It was clean and dry. He must've changed after the show. Before he found them. The paramedics took Steve away, but Eddie couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. His whole body shook. He couldn't stop sobbing. Over and over, all he could think was that he felt like a little kid again, back when everything was falling apart. Steve was going to die, just like his mom did.

It was all Eddie’s fault.

[stardewsnail]

Hi, there! Nice to see a new SV blog! 😊 If your requests are still open, could I get a little something with the singles realising they’re attracted to the farmer after having a ✨spicy✨ dream about them? If that’s too many characters, then just Emily, Elliott and Penny is fine. Please and thank you! 🖤

LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

Shout out to you for being the first request on this blog!

I didn't get to all the singles but I got those three and a few others. I might come back to this later, it was fun to write. Hope you enjoy!!

MINORS DNI, CW: sexual activity

total word count: 1,705

Emily

The room was a haze of sweet smoke and candlelight. The farmer was waiting, draped in nothing but a silky robe Emily recognized as her own design. They reclined carelessly on one of the many cushions that made up the center of the room, crystals lining the edge to make a circle. She didn’t know if this was some sort of spell–ritual–whatever, but she knew the hunger wouldn’t be satisfied until she crossed the threshold. 

“Em,” the farmer grinned and her feet moved unbidden. It felt more than natural to sit, straddling their lap, hands dipping under the smooth fabric to run across broad, toned shoulders. The farmer’s hands were heavy on her hips, dipping to grip her ass and pull her closer. They kissed her exposed neck, nipping, sucking—she gasped, a moan escaping her as the farmer found the sensitive spot where her neck met her collar. 

“Do you want me?” the farmer asked, half lidded eyes meeting hers.

“Yes!” Her reply was breathless. 

“EMILY!” 

Emily jumped awake, nearly falling off the sofa she had been napping on. Haley was home, talking a mile a minute, likely not even noticing her sister had been asleep. Not that she required any input from Emily as she went on about how her pictures were going to turn out and the new lighting technique she had used. 

Her own thoughts were a mess–did she really want the farmer like that? The answer came too quick to the front of her mind, nearly as fast as she had answered in her dream. Yes.

—> Emily was never one to beat around the bush. After confiding in her crush to Haley the two quickly came up with a plan to get Emily and the farmer closer

Penny

She shuddered as the farmer nipped her inner thigh, kissing higher and higher. The calloused hands on her hips were firm, holding her in place as their warm breath tumbled over her cunt.

“You’re so pretty like this,” the farmer murmured, eyes flicking up to meet Penny’s. She tried to respond, but as soon as she opened her mouth the farmer pressed their tongue inside her, dragging it to flick over her clit. The only noise she could make was a breathy gasp that stuck in her throat, curling out her lips in a moan.

“Please,” Penny murmured, trying to grind her hips down—to do anything to increase the friction.

“What my Penny wants, my Penny gets,” they chuckled, voice husky with lust. They pressed themselves back between her thighs and she nearly screamed, pleasure coiling through every nerve, hardly aware of her hands tangling in the farmer’s hair, urging them on—

Her eyes snapped open as the trailer door was slammed shut. Her mother was back from her nightly pilgrimage. She feigned sleep, her heart pounding so hard she was worried her mother would hear it and somehow know…but the bathroom door shut next and she exhaled, pressing her palms over her eyes.

She was dreaming about the farmer—about them doing— She shoved the thoughts down as if that would be enough to curb the itch in her bones. She has been thinking about them so often, she wasn’t totally surprised to see them in her dreams but to have imagined that…

She’d decided it was just a friend-crush. The farmer was cool and smart and funny and sure, definitely not unattractive but Penny just wanted another friend, right?

She always told the children honesty was the best policy and here she was lying to herself even in the privacy of her own mind. She wanted to be much more than a friend. 

—> Penny can’t look the farmer in the eyes for days after, Maru notices it and does a little pushing before realizing Penny has a crush. Penny never says a word about the dream to anyone unless she is actually sleeping with the farmer. Then she might say something like “this is better than that dream I had” which inevitably leads to a round two

Elliot

Elliot closed his eyes as the farmer brought the brush through his hair once more. Their hands were gentle, carefully untangling his locks until they were satisfied. The brush was set aside, their fingers now rubbing into his scalp. 

“You spoil me,” he murmured, tilting his head back into their knees so he could see their glittering eyes. 

“And? Try and stop me.” Their smile was soft. Elliot took their hand in his own, pressing his lips upon their knuckles. 

“Never,” he swore, turning to kneel in front of them. His hands rested on their thick thighs, gripping bare, muscled flesh as he half rose to kiss them. He felt their smile against his lips and their hands once again found his hair, tangling through the strands and pulling just hard enough–he caught their lower lip between his teeth and the noise they made was better than any song. 

At once he was moving, climbing on top of them as they scrambled to make room–he needed them–needed to be inside of them, to be one with them–the locked their legs around his hips, hands already unbuttoning his shirt to stroke the lean muscle beneath. 

“Elliot,” they whined, hips jerking as they pressed against his hard cock, “Please…”

Thunder shook his little shack, and he woke with a start. He lay there for a moment, stunned and breathing hard, trying to organize his thoughts around what his imagination had conjured. 

Elliot scrambled in the top drawer of his nightstand, grabbing the notebook and flashlight he kept there for any midnight bursts of inspiration. He had a new muse—a new star in the sky, a constellation of beauty. It was only natural for a poet to be attracted to them.

→ despite his initial bravado about it, he can’t help but be nervous around the farmer from this point on. He mentions he’s been writing more poetry lately and when they ask to read it he scrambles to find an excuse as to why no, they absolutely cannot. Leah gives him shit for it. (Think Pride and Prejudice and the comment to Darcy about “fine, dark eyes”)

Sebastian

Sebastian arched against the restraints that held his arms above his head, trying to crane his neck off the mattress enough to see what the farmer was doing. 

“Seb,” they tsked, appearing into his field of vision, “I told you to hold still.” 

“Sorry-” his words turned to a gasp as they ran their nails from his collar bone to his ankle as they walked around the bed. 

“I brought some new toys.” They continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I think this one will be useful now.” They revealed a length of silk, letting it dangle over him just barely brushing the skin sending shivers across his body. 

“I don’t think you need to see. I want you to focus on what you’re feeling, okay, darling?” He nodded, not trusting his voice to be steady. They pulled themselves onto the bed, coming to straddle his hips, pressing his cock down flat against their lingerie. He whimpered, cheeks heating at the sound. They smirked, placing the cool blindfold over his face. 

Their kisses on his neck were lightning strikes, hot and almost painful. He was panting, squirming under their touch—

The clap of thunder woke him with a start. His heart raced as the dream came flooding back to him. 

Shit. 

Sure, the farmer was cute but—well shit. He thought the farmer was more than just cute. He couldn’t shake the image of them standing over him…he bit back a moan as his hand closed on his cock. That was a later problem. He had more pressing matters at hand. 

Shane

Shane hadn’t felt like this in years–the farmer had eyed him across the saloon and with a single look they had him following them out the door. And now here he was, his back pressed against their wall, feeling them smile into his neck as they peppered kisses down his throat. The farmer dropped to their knees, fumbling for a moment with the button of his shorts. 

“Fuck,” Shane hissed as they succeeded, his cock now exposed to the night air. They smirked up at him for the briefest moment before–

“Fuck–fuck that’s so good,” he whimpered, pressing a hand to his mouth as they swallowed him, bobbing down his full length–

The scream of a rooster had his eyes snapped open. Awake, sweaty, and beyond horny. This wasn’t good–he was the town drunk, the loser, the peaked-in-highschool gridball drop out…but he couldn’t shake the image of them looking up at him, mouth full…getting off to the thought of them was enough of an indulgence. 

→ Shane proceeds like normal, fully confident nothing will ever come from his desires

Abigail

Together they ran through the mines, swords in hand, working as a single well oiled machine slicing through slime after slime. The farmer’s arms were bare as they swung the pick ax once again, splitting a boulder in a single stroke. 

“Watch out!” Abigail yelled, lunging forward to destroy the mummy the farmer hadn’t noticed. 

“What would I ever do without you?” the farmer’s words were lilting, not teasing, but there was something in their eyes that set her face aflame. 

“I don’t know,” Abigail replied cooly, sheathing her weapon and closing the space between them. She grabbed them by the hips, pulling them tight against her body and into a passionate kiss. The farmer’s back hit the wall and they moaned as Abigail palmed their chest, able to feel their hard nipples through the thin shirt they’d worn. She hooked them by the knee, pulling their leg over her hip and pressing closer–

A sped up remix of some old pop song blasted through the house, making her jump as she woke. Aerobics. Fucking aerobics. She groaned, flopping back down in bed trying to hold the image of the farmer beneath her as long as she could. This was going to make for a very awkward Flower Festival tomorrow…but maybe the farmer would ask her to dance?

→ Abigail ends up lowkey stalking the farmer trying to learn more about them and get their attention

[eddies-puppet]

My Girl

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: After a particularly bad fight with your dad, you run to your best friend for help and a place to stay.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, hints at abuse.

Notes: This is the angsty and fluffy bit, but I got carried away, so you can find the smutty part two here 😂🔥

—————————————————————

Your feet sank in the sopping wet grass, the heavy rain pounding loudly against the trailer. There were no lights on inside, no signs of life as you climbed the steps to the porch, knocking hard on the door. A dog barked loudly across the trailer park, but still there was no movement inside, so you knocked again.

“Alright! Jesus, I’m coming,” came a shout from inside as the light flicked on. “This better be good,” Eddie snapped as he pulled the door open, his face dropping as he saw you, clothes drenched, water droplets dripping from the ends of your hair. “Christ, Y/N, what the hell happened to your face?” You’d hoped that the throbbing in your head and the pain across your cheekbone would be the worst you’d need to deal with now you were away from the house, but your best friend’s reaction told you that this whole night was not going to be so easy to ignore, and that the bruises to your ego weren’t the only new ones that night.

“Can I come in?” You sniffled. He nodded, pushing the door further open so you could pass. Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you, locking it before turning to you. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go,” you said meekly, your voice breaking as a sob caught in your throat. Eddie reached out, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight against his bare chest, the soft scent of his apple shampoo invading your senses and calming you almost instantly. Eddie had been your best friend since middle school, and had always been your go-to when things got rough, waiting with open arms, a warm hug and a smile. You’d had a crush on him for as long as you could remember but you were under no illusions that you were NOT his type, having spent every lunch break recently watching him fawn over Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” Eddie reassured you, his large hands running soothingly down your back. “Shit, you’re soaked, let me get you some dry clothes,” he muttered, pulling out of your arms and disappearing to his bedroom, leaving you alone. You perched on the stool that sat next to the kitchen counter, wiping crumbs from the surface with your sleeve before shrugging your jacket off and laying it out across the counter. You looked around the room. Every time you came here, you seemed to notice something that you’d never noticed before, be it a new drivers cap hanging from the wall or a new stain on the couch. Neither Eddie or Wayne were exactly clean or house-proud, but they both had hearts of gold, which made up for the filth they often seemed to live in. “I’ve left some clothes on my bed for you” he told you softly as he reappeared behind you “Go change, I’ll get us a drink”. You nodded silently and made your way to his room, your wet shoes squelching with each step. Closing the door behind you, you kicked your shoes off and changed into the Metallica shirt and grey sweatpants that Eddie had left for you. Your legs were shaking, the adrenaline from the long run to the trailer park having worn off, and as you sat down on the edge of Eddie’s bed, your teeth had started chattering, the cold outside seeming to have worked deep into your bones. There was a soft knock on the door. “Are you decent?” Eddie called.

“Yeah, you’re safe Eds,” you assured him and the door slowly opened. “I made cocoa,” he smiled as he made his way towards you, handing you one cup before settling himself next to you on the bed, pulling his long legs up beneath him. “You wanna tell me what happened? Why you look like you picked a fight with the whole wrestling team?” You sighed, turning to look at him.

“Someone saw me skipping school yesterday and told my dad,” you muttered, tears springing to your eyes once again as Eddie sighed.

“Shit sweetheart, I’m sorry. I should never have convinced you to ditch with me,” he mumbled sadly.?

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” you reassured him, laying your hand gently on his knee, his skin warm beneath your touch. “It was my choice.” He sighed again, reaching out and wiping a tear from your cheek.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” He asked kindly.

“Would you mind?”

“Would I mind sleeping next to a beautiful woman?” He chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, actually that sounds like it would suck. No, of course I don’t mind dumbass, or I wouldn’t have offered,” he laughed. “So, something totally more important than all of your woes. Did you see Carver stack it in the middle of the cafeteria at lunch? Juice literally came out of my nose,” he said dramatically. “Turns out being part of the ‘cool crew’ doesn’t stop you being a clumsy asshole,” he added, laughing as he raised his cocoa to his lips, taking a large mouthful. You smiled, shaking your head at him.

How did he manage to cheer you up so quickly, almost instantly making you forget your problems? His exuberance, his beaming smile, felt like a rush of fresh air to your lungs after being so close to drowning in the sea of anxiety that seemed constantly ready to overwhelm you. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence (a rarity when Eddie is around) as you both drank your cocoa, the coldness you’d felt finally dissipating. “You finished with that love?” Eddie asked softly, his voice snapping you from your thoughts as he gestured to the mug in your hands. You nodded, handing it to him and he placed it beside his own on his bedside cabinet before he jumped up, flinging back the bed covers. “Come on, it’s way past my bedtime,” he chuckled as you shuffled up the bed, climbing beneath the covers. Eddie flicked the light switch and jumped quickly in to bed beside you. “You take the pillow, I’ll be ok. I’d use Wayne’s but I know for a FACT that he dribbles in his sleep,” he muttered, making you giggle quietly.

“Eds, it’s fine, we can share the pillow,” you smiled, rolling on to your side and moving your head backwards to make room for Eddie to lay beside you. He shuffled into the centre of the bed, stretching his arm out and pulling you against him, your head resting against his warm shoulder, your hand laying against his tight stomach. You melted into his arms, an instant feeling of calm washing over you. There was a tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that this should feel weird, sharing a bed with Eddie, the object of your desires for so long. But it didn’t. You guessed it was because he’s your best friend, but there was no mistaking the tiny butterflies fluttering in your chest.

“Just so you know,” Eddie started. “You can stay here anytime. I know how it feels to be constantly worrying what mood your dad will be in when you get home. I don’t want you having to go through that,” he told you quietly, his voice emotional. You smiled sadly, your eyes filling with fresh tears at the thought of everything Eddie had gone through when he was a child. Wayne had been his guardian angel and saved him from the dysfunctional home his parents had created, but those scars still marked him, no matter how hard he tried to hide them from the world.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “What would I do without you?”

“Well luckily for you, I’m going nowhere. You’re stuck with me.” You could hear the smile in his voice as you snuggled down into him, closing your eyes, praying that sleep would take you quickly. “Y/N?” Eddie said quietly, turning his head towards you as you lifted your head so you could see his face. For a few moments, he was silent, his eyes slowly wandering your face.

“What’s up?” He took a deep breath as he rolled on to his side, now facing you, his free hand moving to your face, his thumb glancing along your lower lip. You weren’t sure which one of you closed the gap, but before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, your lips barely touching, and you’d question whether it was really happening if it wasn’t for your heart pounding so hard in your chest, tethering you to reality. It was like your body had forgotten how to breath, the feeling of his soft lips against yours seemingly wiping every thought from your mind. You pushed softly against his chest, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Eddie, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly.

“You don’t want to?” He asked softly, his voice faltering for a moment.

“Of course I want to,” you breathed. “I just, I feel like maybe it means different things to us both.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie, you don’t want me,” you said sadly. His brows knit together, frowning at your words. “Come on, I’ve spent the last few weeks watching you drool all over Chrissy. I literally could not be less like her if I tried,” you said sadly.

“Really?” He laughed. “You think I want Chrissy Cunningham?! Y/N, she’s been buying from me, and she’s having a shitty time at home. I’m just trying to live up to my reputation as the friendly neighbourhood drug dealer and cheer the poor little rich girl up.” You could feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, his warm breath against your lips as his thumb softly stroked your cheek.

“So you, um, you like me?” You whispered hesitantly.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he smiled, his beautiful brown eyes twinkling in the dark, his face leaning into your touch as you tucked his hair behind his ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been watching you date losers all these years? Watching Steve fucking Harrington drool all over you? They’re not worthy of licking the bottom of your shoe princess.” Princess was a nickname he’d never given you before, but my god, it made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. You watched him as he took a deep breath, his doe eyes wandering your face. “Y/N, I swear to Ozzy, I feel like I might die if I don’t kiss you again,” he said dramatically, making you laugh.

“Well we definitely wouldn’t want that,” you smiled softly, your fingers tangling gently into his messy hair and pulling his face to yours. He kissed you deeply, his plump lips soft against your own, his tongue swiping across your lower lip, gently begging for entrance. As you met his tongue with your own, you could still taste the cigarette smoke on his breath, feel the light callouses on his fingertips from the years of guitar playing.

“My girl,” he whispered against your lips as he paused to catch his breath.

“Yours huh?” You giggled.

“Yep,” he nodded. “Always,” he promised, kissing you again, more intensely this time as his hands travelled down your body, grabbing one of your thighs and pulling it up, hooking it over his hip. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you were sure he’d be able to hear it if it weren’t for your laboured breathing. You couldn’t quite believe this was finally happening, expecting to wake from a dream at any second. Eddie’s hands were on your ass now, grabbing hard and pulling your body tight against him, rolling his hips against you, drawing a gasp from deep within you.

“Eds,” you moaned, chasing his lips as he broke your kiss. “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded. He smirked at you in the darkness.

“Oh sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on stopping,” he chuckled, his voice darker than before. “We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for.”

[gvfgal]

Chapter 14: Funeral of Innocence

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ story, minors DNI

A/n: I apologize for the wait! I’m in an extremely busy season in my life and I’m doing my best to work in writing into my schedule. We’re getting very close to the end, so if you just stick with me a little while longer, I promise I’ll make it worth your while! Thanks again for all your support. ❤️

Content Warnings: mentions of death & grief, graphic violence, depictions and descriptions of injury and death, heavy drinking, fluffy dad Jake (I fuckin love dad Jake).

Word Count: 4.3k

Two Months Later

Jake sat on the worn-out couch, staring at the black TV screen as the heavy rain pounded against the roof of the trailer. It was the anniversary of Jaxon’s death, a day that seemed to drag the storm clouds with it every year. Even here in Nevada, where rain was a rarity, the gloom found him, like it was drawn to the darkness that lived in his heart on this day.

His thoughts were far away, lost in the memories of that night. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his mind always wandered back to the moment that changed everything. The pain was still there, raw and jagged, like the wound had never truly healed.

His phone vibrated on the couch beside him, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Ace’s name flashed across it, and for a moment, Jake considered letting it go to voicemail. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, especially not today. But on the last ring, he answered.

“Hey, Ace,” Jake’s voice was rough, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

“Hey, kid,” Ace’s voice came through the receiver, a rare softness in his tone. Ace knew what day it was; all the Barbarians did. They had all lost Jaxon that night, but Jake had lost more than a brother in arms—he had lost the closest thing to a real brother he’d ever have. “How ya holding up?”

Jake shrugged, even though he knew Ace couldn’t see him. “I’m alright, I guess.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the silence heavy with unsaid words. Ace wasn’t the type to offer comfort in the traditional sense, but he was always there, a steady presence in Jake’s life. They didn’t need to say much; they both knew the pain, the loss.

“I’ve been thinking about him a lot today,” Ace finally said, his voice low. “Hard not to, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Me too. Every year, it’s like the wound gets ripped open again.”

Ace grunted, a sound that was part agreement, part frustration. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna fill that hole, kid. But you keep goin’, for him. That’s all we can do.”

Jake nodded, “yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

“No, it don’t,” Ace agreed, his voice tinged with a shared pain. After a brief pause, he added, “Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all miss him.”

Jake clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to scoff. Sure, the other Barbarians missed Jax—he was a presence that no one could forget, both within the club and beyond. But no one felt the loss like Jake did. None of them carried the burden of knowing that his own father set the chain of events in motion. The thought alone made his blood boil.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Ace.”

Just then, Jake heard the soft, familiar sound of your footsteps as you approached from the back room. When he looked up, he saw you glowing, your damp hair cascading over your shoulders, still fresh from the shower. The sight of you, six months along, with your belly now a prominent, rounded bump sitting high on your midsection, filled him with a warmth he couldn't find anywhere else. You and that baby were the only light in his otherwise shadowed world. Seeing you like this, Jake finally understood why Ace had given you the nickname Sunshine.

He couldn’t help but grin as you came over to him, standing by his side. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the bump over the oversized t-shirt that nearly swallowed you whole.

“Promise me you won’t sit around and mope all day,” Ace's voice crackled through the phone, pulling Jake’s attention back. “Some of the guys and I are headin’ to the Tavern later. You should come.”

As you ran your fingers through his hair, Jake leaned into your touch, feeling the tension slowly ease from his body. The warmth of your hand was soothing, but it couldn’t fully extinguish the torment raging inside him.

“I’ll think about it,” Jake replied, knowing full well he had no intention of going. The thought of being around the guys, pretending everything was fine, was the last thing he wanted.

After a few more words of goodbye, he hung up the phone and turned his full attention to you. You sat down beside him, your hand instinctively moving to your belly as Jake’s hand found its way there too, rubbing gentle circles over the growing life inside.

“You okay, baby?” you asked softly, your eyes full of concern. You knew what day it was. The past few weeks, Jake had been unusually on edge, and today, the tension had reached its peak. His sleep had been restless, and more often than not, you’d wake in the middle of the night to find him absent from bed, only to spot him through the kitchen window, standing on the porch with a haunted look in his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he lied, the words coming out far too easily.

You didn’t believe him, but you didn’t push. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Do you wanna get out of the house today? We could go into town, grab something to eat, even if it’s raining. I’ll even eat at that one terrible barbecue place you like,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jake chuckled, appreciating your effort. He squeezed your leg before returning his hand to your stomach. “Nah, baby. Really, I’m fine. I just wanna hang out here with my two girls and watch some terrible ’80s movies.”

You saw the strain in his eyes, the way he was forcing himself to push through the day. But you also recognized his effort to be present with you, to not let the darkness consume him completely. So, you agreed to the movie day, knowing that it was his way of coping. He could’ve easily shut you out, but instead, he chose to stay close.

Jake headed to the kitchen to pop some popcorn while you sifted through Riley’s collection of movies, eventually settling on The Toxic Avenger. It was cheesy and over-the-top, just the kind of distraction Jake needed.

The two of you curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket that was almost too small for both of you. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the movie, and for a little while, Jake managed to push the pain to the back of his mind. But it wasn’t long before you, in your pregnant state, drifted off to sleep. Jake wasn’t surprised; these days, you seemed to nap more than you stayed awake. He found it endearing how easily you’d fall asleep, your head resting on his shoulder, your soft snores filling the room.

He stayed still, not wanting to wake you, and watched the rest of the movie alone. When it ended and you were still fast asleep, Jake carefully slipped out from under you, making sure you were comfortable before turning off the TV and leaving you to rest.

Moving quietly, Jake made his way to the kitchen and retrieved a half-full bottle of whiskey from the back of the cabinet. He grabbed his helmet, laced up his boots, and pocketed his keys before stepping out into the cool air. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a threatening gray, the gloom hanging over everything like a shroud.

Jake stashed the bottle in his bike’s trunk compartment, mounted his motorcycle, and revved the engine. The roar of the bike was a familiar comfort, a temporary escape from the heaviness that threatened to swallow him whole like the shirt you wore. Without looking back at the trailer, he pulled out of Cactus Creek, the wheels kicking up gravel as he sped off in the direction of the town cemetery.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the dusty road in a warm, golden glow. Two small boys, Jake and Jaxon, pedaled their worn bikes with all the energy their seven-year-old bodies could muster. Their voices filled the air with the imagined roar of motorcycle engines as they raced up and down the street, the sound of their laughter breaking the stillness of the quiet trailer park.

Their bikes were far from the shiny, top-of-the-line models the rich kids in Crystal Bay flaunted, but to Jake and Jaxon, they were the coolest choppers in the world. Each push of the pedal, each turn of the handlebars, was a taste of the freedom they dreamed of. One day, they knew, they’d be tearing down the open road on gleaming Harleys, just like the men they idolized. For now, though, these battered bikes were more than enough to fuel their wildest fantasies.

As they skidded to a stop near a patch of dirt, Jake noticed Jaxon’s usual grin had faded. The weight of his recent loss was evident in his hunched shoulders and the way he absently kicked at the gravel.

“Hey, Jax,” Jake called out, his voice softening as he pulled up beside his friend. “You okay?”

Jaxon shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Just thinking about my dad,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Jake hesitated, unsure of what to say. He’d heard the adults talking about Jaxon’s dad, about the horrific accident and how Jaxon’s mom was nowhere to be seen, leaving him alone. But Jake didn’t see Jaxon as alone—not really.

“You know,” Jake began, trying to sound confident, “as long as I’m around, you’ve got family. My dad says you’re gonna be staying with us for a little while.”

Jaxon looked up, a glimmer of hope in his teary eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jake nodded firmly. “We’ll be like real brothers. Always will be, no matter what.”

Jaxon’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, we’re brothers.”

Jake beamed, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. “And when we’re Barbarians like our dads, we’ll have a ton more brothers. We’ll ride together, just like them.”

The boys shared a moment of silent understanding, their eyes reflecting the innocent dreams of a future where they’d be inseparable, bound not just by friendship, but by the brotherhood of the club.

But as the sun dipped further below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dirt road, an eerie stillness settled in the air. The boys, lost in their fantasies of roaring engines and leather jackets, couldn’t sense the dark clouds that loomed over their future. They didn’t know how the very dreams they cherished would one day become a nightmare that neither of them would be able to escape.

Jake parked his bike just outside the cemetery’s chain-link fence, knowing the Barbarian emblem emblazoned on the side would deter anyone from daring to touch it. The cemetery was larger than one might expect for such a small town, serving as the final resting place for the dead from three neighboring communities. Most of the headstones were shrouded in weeds, the graves neglected, their living relatives long gone or uninterested in tending to the past. But one section stood out: the back right corner, reserved for the Barbarians. These were the only headstones that remained meticulously cared for, maintained in a silent rotation by probee members to ensure their fallen brothers had a fitting final resting place. A few stones loomed larger than the rest—those were reserved for the fallen leaders.

Jake meandered toward the newest and largest of them, his bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand. Rex’s full name was chiseled into the gaudy headstone, and a well-known photo of him in his Barbarian attire was prominently displayed in the center. Jake stood there for a moment, staring at the face of the man who had once loomed so large in his life, offering what little respect he had left for him.

But he didn’t linger. His real destination was further back, where Jaxon’s headstone lay. He’d deliberately avoided this spot on the day of Rex’s funeral, unable to face it then. But now, on the anniversary of Jaxon’s death, after a decade away, it felt like a duty—a painful, necessary duty, to pay his best friend a visit.

Jaxon’s headstone was modest in comparison to Rex’s, and Jake couldn’t help but find it absurd. Rex had drunk himself to death, while Jaxon’s death had been a true sacrifice for the Barbarians, a life given for the good of the club. Yet here was Jaxon, buried under a simple stone. Still, it was well cared for, the inscription clear and clean. The photo of Jaxon at seventeen—sandy curls, blue eyes, and that familiar wide grin—was heartbreakingly youthful.

Jake lowered himself to the ground beside the headstone, the weight of ten years of absence pressing down on him. He didn’t say a word, just sat there, the silence of the cemetery wrapping around him as he finally faced the grave of his best friend. The familiar ache of loss and guilt surged through him, the memories of their last days together rushing back, vivid and painful.

“It is a Barbarian’s sworn duty to always serve this family. You have a duty to live and die by the Code of the Barbarians,” Rex barked, his voice harsh and unyielding as Jake struggled to catch his breath. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat it onto the dirt at his feet, the metallic tang lingering as Rex’s words drilled into him. “It is your duty to lay down your life, if need be, for the good of this family. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jake choked out, his voice strained, the pain in his ribs nearly unbearable.

Rex’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising to a thunderous roar. “I said, do you understand, probee?!”

Jake forced himself to stand taller, summoning every last ounce of strength he had left. “Yes!” he shouted, his voice stronger this time, defiant even in his exhaustion.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Rex’s mouth. “Boys, I think he’s ready.”

Jake turned his head, catching sight of Jax standing beside him, equally battered and bruised. The two of them had endured the same grueling initiation, their bodies screaming in protest from the punishment they’d taken. But despite the pain, they both wore blood-soaked smiles. They had finally done it—after years of dreaming, they had become Barbarians.

The ceremony concluded with the presentation of their jackets, the final symbol of their acceptance into the brotherhood. As the celebration commenced, the aches and pains began to fade, numbed by the countless drinks that were thrust into their hands.

"We did it," Jaxon said, his voice rough with excitement as he playfully shoved Jake. "We finally did it, man. We’re Barbarians."

Jake grinned back, his heart swelling with pride. "That’s right. Real brothers now."

Jaxon shook his head, his sandy curls swaying with the movement. "No, man. We’ve always been real brothers. This just makes it a hell of a lot cooler," he added with a smirk.

They laughed, clinking their glasses together, spilling liquor onto the ground as they toasted to their achievement.

That night, they crashed at Ace’s house, still wrapped in their new jackets, the leather worn but loved. Even as the sun crept up, the sounds of the party filled the house, the energy refusing to die down.

Jaxon groaned as he sat up from the couch, clutching his side where the bruising had already begun to form. He lifted his shirt to examine the damage, wincing at the deep purples and blues blooming across his ribs. But despite the pain, there was a sense of pride that outweighed it all—because they had made it.

Jake shifted on the sofa across from him, groaning as the pain in his muscles made itself known. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking until his gaze locked with Jaxon’s. For a moment, they just stared at each other, taking in the sight of their battered and bruised faces. Then, as if on cue, they both broke into laughter.

"You look like shit," Jaxon joked, grabbing his head as his hangover set in.

"Right back at you," Jake shot back, wincing as he leaned too hard on his elbow.

They gathered themselves as best they could, then dragged their aching bodies toward the backyard where the party was still rolling.

When the rest of the Barbarians saw them, a cheer erupted, beer cans raised high despite the early hour.

"There they are," Rex boomed, pride evident as he clapped them on the shoulders. The boys pretended the movement didn’t hurt like hell.

"How are you two feeling?" Ace asked from a lawn chair, feet propped up, his own hangover evident.

"On top of the world," Jake replied with a smirk, just as a sharp pain shot through his head. "And a little bit like shit."

"Same here," Jaxon agreed, gesturing to his bruised body. "I was drinking to numb this, but I think I might’ve made it worse."

"Bullshit," Riley called from the Blackstone where he was whipping up breakfast. "All you gotta do is keep drinking, and you won’t feel a thing."

"Nothing cures a hangover like an ice-cold beer," Ace chimed in, tossing two beers to Rex from the cooler beside him.

The men cheered as the boys shotgunned the beers, then Riley appeared with a disposable camera while Steeljaw took over the grill.

"Alright boys, smile," Riley instructed as he focused the lens. "We’ve gotta capture this moment."

"We’re proud of you boys," Ace added, raising his can in their direction.

"Damn straight," Rex agreed.

Jaxon threw an arm over Jake’s shoulder, the two of them grinning at one another before turning to the camera. The flash went off, capturing the moment—two brothers bound by blood, brotherhood, and the all too iron-clad loyalty of the Barbarians.

Tears streamed down Jake’s face as the drizzle turned into a steady rain, each drop mingling with the wetness on his cheeks. That memory had once been a beacon of joy, a reminder of simpler, happier times. Now, it was tainted, a bitter reminder of loss.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, man,” Jake whispered, his voice thick with grief, as if Jaxon were sitting right beside him.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Rex. I should’ve been down there with you. Maybe if I was, you’d still be here. Or maybe…” His voice cracked as he lowered his head, fresh sobs wracking his body. “Maybe you’d be here instead of me. You should be here, Jax.”

Jake sat there, the rain soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t care. The bottle of whiskey lay forgotten beside him—somehow, even that wouldn’t dull the pain.

“Jake?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You stood there, a zipper jacket pulled tight over your growing belly, hood shielding your face as you squinted through the downpour, struggling up the slight incline to reach him.

“Cherry?” Jake’s voice wavered as you drew near, your figure becoming clearer through the haze. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was worried about you,” you replied, breathless as you finally reached him. “Thank God for modern technology and location sharing.”

Your attempt at a lighthearted joke fell flat; Jake’s face remained shadowed with sorrow. Without a word, you lowered yourself beside him, resting your head gently on his shoulder.

The two of you sat in silence, letting the rain pour over you, Jake secretly thankful for the way it disguised the tears that continued to spill from his eyes.

“I miss him,” he confessed, the pain in his voice almost palpable. “He’s supposed to be here.”

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your hand finding his, squeezing gently. Sometimes, there were no words that could offer comfort, only the simple acknowledgment of grief. “I know.”

Jake’s hand unconsciously moved to your round belly, his thoughts drifting to what life would’ve been like if Jaxon were still around, if he could be here to see Jake become a father. He knew, without a doubt, that Jaxon would’ve made the best uncle. They had spent countless hours talking about what it would be like to have little Barbarians of their own. The fact that Jaxon would never see that dream come true gnawed at Jake’s soul.

Just then, a gentle nudge pressed against Jake’s palm. The baby shifted, a tiny movement, but it made you both freeze.

“Did she just…?” Jake’s voice held a glimmer of joy, a sound you hadn’t heard from him in far too long.

You nodded, placing your hand over his, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, she did.”

For weeks, you had tried to get the baby to move for Jake, but she always seemed to be still whenever he was around. It was as if she was waiting for just the right moment.

Jake closed his eyes, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his heart, he took that small kick as a sign—a sign that your little girl already knew her uncle Jax. For all Jake knew, Jaxon was watching over her, waiting for the perfect moment to send her down to meet you both.

Jake gently pressed on your stomach, and the baby responded with another, stronger movement, more pronounced than before. You both laughed in amazement, marveling at the little life inside you.

You sat together in silence, captivated by the way your baby seemed more active than ever.

“She’s never moved this much for me,” you said, laughing softly as you watched Jake’s face light up with wonder.

“So she is a daddy’s girl after all,” he grinned, eyes never leaving your belly.

After a moment, Jake exhaled a deep, weary sigh. “I wanna go home,” he said, his voice heavy with longing.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek and kissed him softly. “Then let’s go home,” you whispered, your words filled with love and comfort.

Jake stared into Jaxon’s lifeless eyes, desperately willing him to blink away the blood pooling in them. But no miracle came. The cold reality hit him like a sledgehammer; Jaxon was gone. With a trembling, blood-soaked hand, Jake gently closed his friend’s eyelids, sealing the finality of it.

The gunfire had long since ceased, and the roar of engines retreating into the distance signaled the rival gang’s hasty departure. The battlefield was eerily quiet now, save for the anguished shouts of the Barbarians as they scrambled to regroup. But Jake felt detached, like he was watching everything unfold through a thick fog. He wanted to scream for help, but no sound came from his throat, he was paralyzed by the shock of it all.

His eyes swept across the chaotic scene, landing on Nicky, who emerged from behind a large boulder several yards away, the same boulder Jaxon had dashed from when the first shot rang out. The sight of Nicky, unscathed except for a graze on his arm, ignited a slow burn of rage in Jake’s chest.

Just then, Madcap jogged over, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene before him. “Oh shit,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. But Jake didn’t acknowledge him, his focus was fixed on Jaxon’s pale, still face.

One by one, more men gathered around, forming a silent circle. Ace was there, his expression stony, and eventually, Rex arrived. One of the men clasped a hand over his mouth, turning away to hide his reaction to the gruesome sight. They all stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. The weight of what had just happened settled heavily over them.

Rex, usually the first to bark out orders, seemed momentarily at a loss. His stern gaze faltered as he looked down at Jaxon’s body, and for a brief second, even he seemed human—vulnerable. But the hesitation was brief. He quickly hardened, barking out commands to the men. “Get him up. Now.”

The men moved slowly, as if reluctant to touch Jaxon, as if moving him would make this tragedy all too real. They began to pry Jake’s arms away, but he was frozen in disbelief, his mind refusing to register the reality of what was happening. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaxon’s face.

That was when Nicky joined the crowd, clutching his arm where he’d been grazed. Jake’s eyes finally snapped up, locking onto Nicky’s face with a deadly intensity.

“You false fired,” Jake spat, his voice low and filled with venom.

Nicky blinked, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jake’s expression twisted in fury. “You fired before the signal,” he growled, his voice gaining strength with each word. “You left me and Jax exposed. And you didn’t even cover him.”

Before anyone could react, Jake lunged at Nicky, his fist connecting with Nicky’s jaw in a vicious punch that sent him reeling. The men rushed in to pull Jake off, but not before he landed another blow. His anger was white-hot, boiling over, his grief fueling every strike. It took several of the Barbarians to finally drag him away, his breath coming in ragged gasps as they held him back.

All Jake could do was watch as they carried Jaxon’s lifeless body away, his heart shattering into pieces he didn’t know how to mend. The reality of what had happened finally started to sink in, leaving a hollow pit in his chest.

This wasn’t just the death of his best friend—it marked the burial of their innocence, the final toll of a life they could never return to. Jaxon’s funeral wasn’t merely a farewell to a fallen brother; it was the funeral of their boyhood dreams, the loss of the idealistic belief that their bond was unbreakable. In its place, a harsh reality settled in—one where loyalty and brotherhood had been betrayed, where the very code they lived by had demanded this terrible sacrifice. This was the true funeral, not just of Jaxon, but of everything they had once held sacred.

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @wetkleenex-gvf @hollyco @dannys-dream @slut4lando @josh-iamyour-mama @gretasfallingsky @takenbythemadness @scoreofinfantryvines

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.