#i want things to be done to me but not really just in my head only
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starryjake · 2 days ago
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revenge | s.j
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in which you get your revenge on jake after the time he overstimulated you with a vibrator.
pairing: jake x fem!reader
includes: sub jake, use of sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, drooling and crying kinda, cumming multiple times, kinda bondage (lmk if i missed anything).
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jake was so pretty. absolutely exhausted jake who just wanted to cuddle with you and go to sleep was too, too pretty.
you just had to have your fun with him.
besides, he should’ve seen it coming. he’d done the same thing to you last week.
you were tired from a long day of work and classes and jake thought it was the perfect time to absolutely torture you with a vibrator. he made you cum so many times, you’d lost count, but you were so oversensitive that it hurt.
that night, you couldn’t wait to get your revenge.
and then it was time: when jake was so sleepy and dazed, bound to go along with what you say until he would realize what was happening.
“baby,” he said softly as you started nipping his jawline, clearly trying to get his attention. “i’m too sleepy.”
“i know,” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his neck, “but i wanna have some fun.”
jake looked down at you, his sweet, sweet girl. he never wanted to deny you of the things you wanted, even when he was as tired as he was.
“i just don’t know if i can do anything, sweetheart,” he said. “you can hump me or ride my thigh if you want. just don’t be mad if i fall asleep.”
“no, jake,” you whined, trailing your hand down his bare torso. “you need to have some fun with me too.”
you grabbed his cheek and attached your lips to his before he could even realize you were doing it. he instantly melted into the kiss, sighing against your lips and bringing his hands up to your hair.
“so needy,” he mumbled against your mouth.
he couldn’t see it since his eyes were closed, but you rolled your eyes. you were needy, sure. needy to see him get what was coming for him.
testing, you dragged your hand down to cup his bulge, feeling if he was hard yet. you weren’t surprised to find that he was. it never took him very long, even when he insisted he was too tired.
you stroked your hand up and down his clothed erection for a minute, getting him worked up enough that he would actually want to cum and take back what he said about being too tired.
you knew he was at that point when you pulled away from him entirely and he pouted at you, his facial expression asking why you stopped.
saying nothing, you reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the fully charged bullet vibrator he’d used on you last week. jake’s face remained expressionless, not catching on to what was going on. he really was tired.
you set it on the bed and went back over to jake, pulling his pants down to his knees. he’d forgone underwear since he was just going to sleep, his cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. he was fully hard, his tip a light pink color and drooling a bit of pre cum.
for a moment there, distracted by the sight of his dick, you forgot all about your plan for the vibrator. you wrapped your hand around his shaft and started slowly jerking him off, watching his face contort with pleasure.
it was only when you felt him twitch in your grip that you remembered your mission.
you let go of him, much to his displeasure, picking the vibrator back up. he watched you turn it on, the humming sound of it suddenly filling your shared bedroom.
“what are you doing?” he whined, lolling his head to the side. “just make me cum and let me go to sleep.”
you scoffed. he was such a brat, it only made you want to use it on him even more.
“i will make you cum,” you assured. “just close your eyes.”
“i’ll fall asleep if i close ‘em,” he said.
“you won’t,” you assured him.
he sighed and closed his eyes, immediately becoming more relaxed. his shoulders slumped and his facial features softened.
you didn’t waste any time and brought the little pink vibrator right to the tip of his leaking cock.
jake jolted in shock, his eyes flying open.
“what the hell?” he almost yelled. “what are you doing?”
“having fun,” you answered.
he reached out to grab your wrist but you stopped him with a menacing glare.
“try to stop me and i’ll tie your hands up,” you warned.
“y/n, please,” jake huffed, staring down at you running the vibrator around his tip. “you’re not using your vibrator on me.”
“you did it to me first,” you reminded him. “you used it on me until i was shaking and begging you to stop. and i’ve been thinking about getting back at you everyday since.”
“i’m sorry!” jake cried out, tossing his head back in either frustration or pleasure, or both.
he couldn’t deny that it felt good. for such a small vibrator, the pressure was there. he could feel it intensely pulsating against his tip, pushing out more and more beads of clear precum. you’d only just begun and he was already so messy.
“i’m sure,” you mumbled, gathering some of the precum with your other hand.
jake bit his lip, feeling a warmth spread in his stomach and he knew he was already close. it hadn’t been very long but his sensations were heightened from his exhaustion.
“i’m close,” he told you.
you didn’t stop or slow down. in fact, you ran the vibrator down from his tip to his shaft and back up, his balls tightening from the unfamiliar sensation. his back arched in a way that was so pretty, your eyes widening from how affected he was by the vibrator.
“go ahead,” you said. “go ahead and cum for me.”
with that, his jaw fell slack and he groaned loudly as ropes of cum spurted out from his tip, which was a slightly darker pink than it’d been when you started.
“mmm, fuck,” he moaned, head tossed back and hips thrusting up slightly to ride out his high. “oh, yeah.”
a sheen of sweat covered his chest and his rosy cheeks. his chest rose and fell rapidly with little gasps of air. he came for longer than you imagined he would considering you’d only just started, but you assumed it was because he’d never had a vibrator used on him before.
you turned the vibrator off for a moment, taking in the state of jake before you. a puddle of his cloudy cum coated his stomach and his eyes were shut. his chest rose and fell less rapidly, telling you that he was finally calming down.
“jake?” you said after a minute.
he hummed, his eyes still closed. it was clear he was right on the brink of falling asleep.
to keep him from doing so, you turned the vibrator back on and held it against the underside of his cock below his tip, his most sensitive spot.
he jolted, eyes flying open like they had before.
“oh, fuck,” he moaned, grabbing your wrist to try and stop you again. “please. i can’t.”
“you can,” you assured him, holding the vibrator and his cock all in your one hand.
“please,” he cried. “it’s too much. i’m too sensitive, y/n.”
“you’re okay,” you responded, thinking about how sensitive you were when he did the same thing to you.
“oh my god,” he nearly sobbed. “‘m cumming.”
it was so, so quick. only a minute in and he was already shooting out more ropes of cum, landing on top of the puddle that was already there, creating an even bigger mess of himself.
he whimpered, entirely shoving your hand off of him to give himself a break.
“what’d i say?” you asked, demeanor darkening.
“you’re not tying me up,” he declared, like he was in charge.
“wanna bet?”
jake’s big brown eyes widened, watching as you reached into the drawer again to pull out the silk rope. you certainly weren’t afraid to use it on him, especially if he was going to be pushing your hands off.
“don’t,” he begged. “please.”
“then stop trying to push me off,” you said sternly.
“but it’s too much,” he whined.
he was already keeping a close eye on your hand gripping the vibrator, weary for when were going to bring it back to his cock again. it almost made you want to laugh.
“you can do it,” you said. “you can be good for me, yeah?”
he bit his lower lip, hanging his head.
you brought the vibrator back to his cock, turning it onto the next highest setting from before. his poor cock jake gasped, instinctively grabbing onto your wrist again despite what you’d just told him.
“jake,” you sighed, growing frustrated.
“i’m sorry!” he said, immediately retreating his hand.
you set the vibrator aside and grabbed the silk rope. you grabbed his hands and pushed them together, tying the rope around them tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.
jake had a little pout on his face like a child who’d just gotten scolded after getting in trouble. it filled your body with warmth, how cute he was.
“i just wanna make you feel good,” you reasoned, pressing the vibrator onto his slit.
he hissed, pushing his hips up. his abs clenched, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face from the intensity of the vibrator and from already cumming twice.
“i know, baby,” he said while exhaling shakily. “it’s just…a lot.”
“but i know you can do it,” you cooed, dragging the vibrator down a vein on his dick.
he clenched his jaw, the mixture of pain and pleasure so overwhelming that it was clouding his mind, slowly turning him dumb.
“i can’t,” he mumbled pathetically. “it feels so fucking good though.”
“i know, honey,” you cooed softly.
you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him prettier. his eyes were glazed over, his cheeks and ears a bright pink, and completely covered in his own cum. you wanted to ruin him, make a mess out of your tired boyfriend.
he tried to squeeze the bedsheets, but he was so weak. he couldn’t express his pleasure other than desperate moans.
he didn’t even warn you the next time he came. it just started coming out out his red, used tip, drooling out slowly in comparison to the sharp ropes that were spurting out before.
you were were pretty sure you saw a tear a slip down his face and were certain that he was drooling. he moaned shamelessly, so out of it that he felt like he was dreaming. he’d never felt so fucked out in his life.
you kept the vibrator pressed against him while he came and didn’t remove it this time to let him calm down.
“oh my god,” he slurred. “baby, pl—oh fuck. i’m cumming again.”
less than 30 seconds than cumming before and he was already cumming again, which you didn’t even know was possible.
his load was smaller, but his reaction was bigger. he threw his head back, exposing his pretty neck. his entire body tensed and the prettiest, most desperate moans and whimpers came tumbling out past his lips, swollen from biting and drooling.
“fuck, i can’t stop,” he moaned.
you watched him, feeling the wetness pool in your panties from how beautiful of a sight it was.
the veins in his body throbbed, his muscles clenched, and he just a beautiful mess. his cock was drenched in his own cum, the vibrator slipping against him.
you caressed his leg, removing the vibrator from his spent cock. he let out a groan of relief from you finally pulling it away, of giving him a moment to breathe.
his eyes were closed, his entire body limp. you lifted his hands in order to untie the silk rope, setting his hands free.
you sat up on your knees, caressing his face until he opened his eyes again, looking up at you.
“you okay?” you asked, your thumb brushing his cheek.
“mhm,” he mumbled, even more tired than he was before. “that was fucking…insane.”
“was it too much?” you wondered, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to start cleaning him up.
“yeah,” he said, “in the best way possible.”
you chuckled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.
“go to sleep, okay?” you said.
“but can we cuddle?” he asked sweetly.
“yes, we can cuddle,” you responded.
“and can i be little spoon?” he asked.
“yes, jake.”
-
screaming. shoutout to the anon who requested this, i loved the idea so much! sub jake just….don’t get me started actually!
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em-ontv · 2 days ago
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Need some space — d.w.
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader
Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could
Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!
Word count: 912
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Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.
Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.
"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"
"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."
You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.
"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."
"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."
Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.
When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.
"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.
"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.
"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.
You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.
You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.
"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.
"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.
Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."
"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."
"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.
And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.
"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.
Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.
"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"
"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."
He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.
It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.
Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.
"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.
He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.
"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.
"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.
Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."
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juno-stuffs · 2 days ago
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thanks for the tag! i love rocks. not crystals, actually, yeah, crystals too, but just rocks in general. i went to arizona (which btw, i stayed in a house that was probably haunted during that visit) once and visited a rock show and it was the best thing i've ever done. i also recently got a bunch of rock beads and i plan to make many, many necklaces/maybe bracelets with them. + i don't have a favorite rock bc they're all amazing and i could stare at them for hours. i dunno if this is related but statues fascinate me too. or just sculpting in general. i really like legos too btw. just anything buildable i also love vehicles. like, any. my ranking from favorite to least (i still like them though) is: boat (i really like tug boats and caravels. little fishing boats too), jet (bonus points if it's a nice color), bus (my favorite's the london buses), car (especially older ones + race cars), truck (i love the ups one. i dunno why, i have little version of it), plane, motorcycle (again, older ones are so cool), bike, skateboard (again bonus points for neat colors), helicopter, scooter. the only ones i hate are hot air balloons and cyber trucks. also, i really want to get trail makers (i almost forgot about that game) but i'm poor :[ my digital art set up is pathetic but fuck it we ball. also i don't have a sona yet but i might have one soon? also this is my favorite emoticon: ,':] but i have no opportunities to use it :[ i don't really have a favorite animal but i love pangolins. they're amazing. and horses, they're so fucked up looking and funny. also, one of the most brutal things i've seen is custom horse model creations on yt. like they saw off parts of the horse model and reposition them and such. i really like reptiles and dinosaurs (and dragons!). my favorite dinosaur is the stegorous but it used to be stegosaurus because they're so dumb (like me!) (i still like them though, but i like anything with scales so)
my favorite greek god before i got into epic was artemis or apollo but more so artemis. i don't really have a favorite now. my favorite epic character is circe mostly because of gigi's design of her + i'm a girlkisser. before juno my name was ari and i am so glad i changed it. speaking of california, that's were i am, and i'm running off to canada or italy the first chance i get i love swimming but i can't swim :( i can never sneeze once, i have to sneeze at least twice in a row. i don't usually store my original content info anywhere, i just keep it in my head ig.
that's a lot and enough for now :]
@pastellpeachz no pressure btw! (you're the only other moot i have i think :,])
it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore
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delilahsturniolo · 2 days ago
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casual — m.s
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in which . . . you get your virginity taken from your best friend matt, after he finds out you’ve never had sex.
warnings . . . smut, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex and more.
written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)
“i know what you tell your friends.”
“it’s casual, if it’s casual now.”
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you were currently over at matt’s house, it was just the two of you chilling together in matt’s room. you were both bored out of your mind, so you decided to play a classic game of never have i ever
“okay…my turn.” you exclaimed, sitting up. “never have i ever cheated on a test!” you asked, grinning. matt lightly chuckled, slowly putting a finger down. you still had all 10 fingers, you hadn’t done any of the things matt had asked.
“come on y/n, these are lame questions.” matt rolled his eyes, you only shrugged your shoulders.
“what? i don’t know what else to ask.”
“let’s spice it up a little at least?” matt questioned you, tilting his head to get a better look at you. you narrowed your eyes at him.
“spice it up how?” you asked, a little intrigued but nervous at the thought.
“we can start by letting me ask the questions.” matt smiled teasingly, you huffed and agreed.
“okay…go ahead.” you said, putting your hands up again. matt was determined to get you to put at least one finger down, there was no way you were this innocent.
“never have i ever…kissed someone?” matt asked, putting one of his fingers down. you stayed completely still, your finger not going down like matt had expected.
he furrowed his eyebrows. “you’ve never kissed anyone?” he asked you, a puzzled expression on his face. you shook your head. “no…” you mumbled.
“you’re lying.” matt teased.
“am not!” you replied back.
“alright…never have i ever had sex?” matt knew what your answer was going to be, he just wanted to confirm. matt put his finger down, but you didn’t move yet again.
“i didn’t know you were a virgin.” matt expressed, looking up at your face, that was completely flustered.
“i know…it’s embarrassing isn’t it?” your voice got softer, matt immediately shook his head.
“no no no, not at all.” matt reassured you, your body language was tense and hesitant. you didn’t really want matt to know you were a virgin, you just never found the right person, having sex was a huge fear of yours.
“i’m just…i’m just afraid.” you whispered, your voice weak. matt’s expression softened at your words.
“that’s completely normal, it’s okay to be afraid.” matt spoke back to you, a hint of care and concern laced in his voice, he had such a soft spot for you. however, he was stone cold to everyone else. everyone else but you.
you nodded, looking down at your lap. you stayed quiet, not knowing what else to say. that was, until matt spoke up.
“i could…maybe help you get over that fear?” matt requested, his voice barely above a whisper. your eyes widened.
“what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he was saying.
“we don’t have to if you don’t want-“ matt started speaking, but you quickly interrupted him.
“no no no! i want to.” you abruptly replied, fiddling with your gold necklace as you and matt locked eyes for a moment.
“are you sure?” matt asked you, confirming that you were okay with this and that he wasn’t pressuring you.
you trusted matt more than anyone in the world, so you nodded your head. matt scooted closer to you on the bed, gently grabbing your waist.
“i need to hear you say it then.” matt told you, his voice deep and seductive. you felt so attracted to him, even though you both were best friends. it didn’t feel weird though, not at all.
“yes please.” as soon as those words came out of your mouth, matt smiled, feeling reassured that you trusted him. his hands gripped your waist once more, gently laying you down on the bed.
matt hovered over you, his hand cupping your cheek as he gently pressed a light kiss to your face before placing his other hand on the hem of your shirt.
“can i?” matt asked you once again, you nodded. he slowly pulled your shirt off, trying to be as gentle as possible.
he unbuttoned your jeans and unclasped your bra, leaving you just in your underwear. you allowed him to do all of this, just because it was matt. you wouldn’t let anyone else do this with you.
matt smirked at the wet patch present on your white laced underwear. he leaned in to you, pressing kisses and sucking on your neck, leaving marks as he trailed kisses down your body.
you moaned lightly from feeling matt’s touch, your moan was music to matt’s ears.
as matt’s hand trailed down to your panties, he looked at you, silently asking for permission. after you said yes, he slipped your underwear off and threw it to the side.
“y/n? can i ask you something?” matt’s gentle voice beamed throughout the room. “hm?” you mumbled, looking up at him. you were completely naked beneath him, his blue eyes locked with yours.
“have you ever touched yourself?” he asked you. you shook your head. “no…is that bad?” you whispered, looking at him with worry in your eyes.
“not at all love, that’s okay!” matt reassured.
you started feeling slightly overwhelmed. this was really happening, you were about to lose your virginity. it was all hitting you at once. matt noticed the worry in your eyes, he immediately took his hands off of you.
“hey hey hey, what’s going on? what’s wrong?” matt asked you, worry present in his voice. you bit your lip, your hands shaking.
“matt—i’m scared.” your voice wavered as you looked up at him. matt’s gaze softened even more, he gently rubbed the side of your arm.
“y/n…it’s gonna be okay. i’m gonna take care of you, i won’t hurt you, i’ll be as gentle as i can. if you’re ever uncomfy with something i’m doing tell me, okay?” matt quietly explained to you, you nodded your head, feeling better immediately.
“i can talk you through it if you want?” matt requested, you agreed, knowing it would make you feel better if he was talking to you.
“please.” you murmured, matt nodded in understanding. he gently parted your legs, his hands caressing your inner thighs.
your breath hitched as his thumb circled over your clit, it was a weird sensation, but it felt so good. you moaned softly, his thumb gently collecting your slick.
“i’m gonna stretch you out mkay? let me know if you need me to stop.” matt assured, his eyes not leaving yours once. his finger plunged into your pussy, his pace slow and steady as he pumped his finger in and out of you.
“o—oh my g—gosh..” you moaned out, your back arching against the bed as matt quickened his pace slightly, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.
you felt the burn of the stretch, but it quickly disappeared and turned into pleasure as your moans filled the room.
“mm..feel good?” matt mumbled, his voice wavering. you were so attractive in this state, he could do this for hours.
“s—so good..” you whimpered as he added another finger. matt pulled out his fingers from your core, sucking them in his mouth with a loud pop.
he quickly took off his pants and boxers, his dick springing out. your eyes widened, how in the world was that going to fit?
“matt, how exactly are you going to fit!?” you spoke frantically, sitting up slightly. he chuckled lightly as he applied lube to his length and spread some against your folds.
“it’ll fit lovey, don’t worry okay?” he gently pushed you back down, taking your hand in his as he softly kissed your temple.
“if you don’t like it make sure you tell me, yeah?” matt spoke, squeezing your hand in reassurance and comfort.
“first, i want you to take a nice deep breath f’me okay sweetheart?” matt instructed, exaggerating his breaths so you could copy. you took a deep breath like he asked, matt nodded in satisfaction.
“ready?” he asked you when you finally relaxed, looking down at your face as you smiled and nodded.
you both locked eyes as he slowly slid in, eliciting a mix between a gasp and moan as he did so. it hurt a lot, but you were slowly adjusting to the new feeling.
“you okay?” matt checked in on you, watching your face contort. “want me to pull out?”
“no no…just feels weird.” you express. matt nodded, gently pushing a hair out of your face as he did so. “i know, it’ll feel like that for a bit.” matt chuckled.
“can i move?” he asked, you nodded. you gasped as matt pushed further into you, it felt like you were in a whole different world, the pain quickly went away and turned into pleasure.
“matt..feels good.” you moan out, matt smiles, slowly beginning to thrust into you at a moderate pace, not going too fast. he squeezed your hand, making sure you were okay in between.
“shit baby—takin’ me so well, such a good girl..” matt praised, continuing his slow and steady thrusts as you felt a knot in your stomach form.
your whimpers and moans beamed throughout the dimly lit room, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head almost.
matt leaned into you, grabbing your face gently with his hand. “is it okay if i kiss you?” matt asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.
“more than okay.” you smiled, your first kiss had to be with matt, he was the only person you’d want it to be with.
matt nodded, his thrusts as gentle as ever as he cupped your cheeks. both of your eyes fluttered closed and matt leaned into you, his soft and moisturized lips connecting with yours.
he groaned into the kiss, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. you let matt guide you, but you eventually got the hang of it. you felt matt’s stubble against your cheeks as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip.
without warning, you could feel the knot in your burst, so did matt. you came with one last moan of matt’s name, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.
matt pulled out of you, wiping the sweat on your forehead away. he kissed your temple and buried his face into the crook of your neck.
“did so good for me pretty, took me so well…s’proud of you.” matt whispered with love and care in his voice.
“thank you matt.” you whispered back, your hand tangling into his hair. matt shook his head.
“don’t thank me, love.” he replied, picking his head up and looking at you, he attacked your face and neck with kisses, making you squeal in excitement.
“i’m no longer a virgin.” you smiled stupidly at him, matt laughed at how cute you looked right now.
“come on, let’s clean you up.” matt spoke, still laughing a little as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.
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dreamsteddie · 2 days ago
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AITA Steddie Au Part Three
Part Two
Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!
Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓
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Eddie takes Steve on that second date.
And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.
Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.
Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.
Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.
------
"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.
"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.
He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.
"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.
"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.
Gareth doesn't say anything.
The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.
He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.
So why this? Why now?
"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.
Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.
Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."
With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.
"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.
Eddie kept walking.
-------
That was over four weeks ago.
He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.
In other news.
Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.
"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.
"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.
"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.
But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.
Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.
"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.
"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."
Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.
"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.
Silence.
Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.
Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"
And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.
"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.
"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.
"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.
It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.
Eddie squeezes his hand back.
"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.
"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.
Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.
Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.
"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.
"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.
"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.
Gotcha.
Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.
Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.
Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.
Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.
Tag List
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sunnylucy31 · 23 hours ago
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TheShatteredQueen posted in /r/AmITheAsshole:
AITA for doing whatever I can to save my people from genocide?
So obviously that title needs a bit of clarification. I (21f) am leader of a very small and tight knit minority group that's being persecuted by a very rich and very powerful man (3200m) and his family. For anonymity's sake we'll call him "Thunderbeard." He wants us all exterminated and our souls sent straight to eternal punishment, just because he has beef with our parents, my father (10000m) in particular. My father is also his father, but that doesn't really matter to him so we'll leave that aside.
We don't want anything to do with our parents; they made us solely to use as expendable soldiers, and we want more out of life. I literally diced one of them (7400m) and threw the pieces into super hell so we could avoid that. Unfortunately we only got a couple days of peace before Thunderbeard learned about us and had a bunch of his "employees" start hunting us. This was about five years ago.
I've lost good people. I can't imagine how they must be suffering right now, for no good reason. We'll all join them if we don't do something. I have a long term plan, but to enact it I need to buy us time.
Here's where things get complicated. Thunderbeard and his co-tyrants have kids similar to us, and a lot of them. Some are much younger than us, a few are much older, but they definitely outnumber us by a sizeable margin. Whenever Thunderbeard and Co need a job done, they typically send a few of the kids out to do it, more depending on how big the job is. The only reason they haven't been sent against us yet is because Thunderbeard thinks there's not enough of us to warrant it. My worry is that once he realizes he's wrong, he'll "rally the troops," as it were, and we'll be overwhelmed.
So I looked for ways to mitigate that, and happened on one that's a bit morally contentious. See, their kids are split into two groups (the criteria for which is a bit hard to follow and not really relevant atm) that have fought each other in the past. My thought was, if they fight again, maybe they'll weaken each other enough that we stand a chance against them. We've been laying the groundwork for that for a few years now, and earlier this week we kicked things firmly into motion. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, it could be the saving grace we've been praying for.
Now clearly that's not a good thing to do, I'm fully aware of that. It's already putting strain on my personal relationships. I just learned that I have a half-sister (19f) who I'd love to get to know, but she thinks I'm a "warmonger" and won't hear me out at all. It's all I can do some nights to fall asleep while the guilt eats away me.
But what else should we do? My people are counting on me to save them. We're damned even if we do nothing, so isn't the moral thing to fight however we can, even if it's sneaky and underhanded?
AITA?
StrengthAndEndurance: NTA. It's your job to think about what's best for the people under you, not anyone else. Keep your head high, don't let the guilt get to you.
FerrumMemoria: NTA. The oppressed have never gained anything by playing fair with their oppressors. In any liberation movement, bloodshed is inevitable. The ruler who does not recognize this is not fit to rule. Carry on as you have, and worry not about the judgement of history until you've survived to write it.
StargazerButch7: NTA. I understand feeling guilty, but there's no easy way out of this mess. We all appreciate the hard choices you have to make for our sakes. Keep the faith!
WaterloggedRedhead: NTA! Thunderbeard is the real asshole! Keep up the good work, we're all behind you!
Write an r/AmITheAsshole post told from your OC’s perspective. (Bonus: include replies from your other OCs.)
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ninikrumbs · 23 hours ago
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taste me too
Satoru Gojo x reader. fluff. domestic satoru. teeny weeny bit of angst
Ever since you started dating Satoru, you have never felt that tinge of loneliness you use to feel. Not that you minded being alone. It was peaceful.
You used to go watch a movie in the cinema alone. Eat at that new restaurant with a table for one. Have cozy nights in with homemade face masks and belting out to your favorite singer of the week, self care and whatnot. In your opinion, why miss out on the things you want to do just because you’re on your own?
But now, you look to the side and there’s another hand in your popcorn basket, just as giddy for the Barbie movie. You look down at your plate and you see your steak already sliced for your convenience under the romantically lit restaurant. The man in front of you with bright blue eyes, gazing at you so endearingly with a goofy grin on his face as he listened to you babble about your day. And lastly, it wasn’t just you belting out on your hairbrush with a matcha green face mask on his face and a headband pulling back his snowy white hair.
Maybe you didn’t mind being alone, but with Satoru sitting on top of the toilet seat as he gazes up at you almost reverent like - silently waiting for his turn to try out the new lip balm you bought for the cold winter months-always wanting to be included, your eyes burn.
“Toru, stop staring.”
He pouts, “I’m just waiting for you to be done.”
You roll your eyes affectionately before you continue swiping the new balm on your dry lips, it smells like strawberry. Satisfied, you smack your lips together with a grin. Lips now soft and moisturized. “Wow! its really nice and doesn’t feel sticky.”
You turn to Satoru to hand him the lipbalm. To your surprise, he was already standing up, looking at you expectantly. “My turn, my turn!”
You laugh at his excitement, shaking your head fondly. “Here.”
You missed the mischievous glint in his eyes as his hand reaches up to supposedly grab the lipbalm from your hand. He then seemingly misses and cups your face instead. You were slightly taken aback, confused at what he was doing. “Toru what-”
You were cut you short when he leans down and plants his lips on your newly glossed ones. Your mind somewhat convinced yourself that he was ruining your lipstick so you push him back a bit. “Toru-”
But to no avail, as he pulls you by waist, flushed to his chest. He angles his head and kisses you again, deeper this time. It makes you feel warm and hazy. The smacking of lips echoes throughout the bathroom, the balm only making it more distinct. You grab onto the collar of his sweater to ground yourself. The kiss is slow and passionate and as he licks your bottom lip, his tongue tangling with yours, you forgot why you were protesting in the first place.
To your dismay, the both of you needed oxygen. You pull away first, his lips chasing yours before you hid your face in his chest, breathing heavily. “Let me breath a sec,”
He wraps his arms around your body and you feel his heart thumping fast through his chest making you smile. He chuckles, the sound flitting through you. “You’re right, it is nice- amazing even.”
You lift you head to glare at him but it has no real force behind it. “You’re shameless, you know that? Here I thought you wanted to try it!”
And he has the gal to grin, “I did try it!” He licks his lips and hums in delight, yet you doubt there were any traces of the lipbalm left. “Tastes so good too.”
Despite everything, you feel your face burn. “Youre officially kicked out of self care night!”
“What? Nooo! Baby, I was just teasing-”
Yes, you might not have any shred of peace ever again, but you don’t mind. Not one bit.
^^ comments are much appreciated <3
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imtherain · 2 days ago
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Smeared Lipstick
Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.
This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol
Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!
Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.
Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)
[More Logan]
[Main Master List]
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“Hit me,” 
The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.
“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.
“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.
“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.
You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.
“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty.  Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.
“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.
“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.
“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.
“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away. 
Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.
But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.
“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,” 
“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.
“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.
“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk. 
You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.
“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.
“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.
“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions. 
“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.
You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.
“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.
“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.
“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,” 
“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,” 
“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.
“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.
“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.
He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.
“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.
“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.
“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy. 
Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.
You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.
Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.
With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.
You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.
When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.
Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.
You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.
Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.
Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.
But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air. 
Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.
“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.
“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,” 
“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.
“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.
“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,” 
“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.
You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.
The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.
And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.
You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.
The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.
Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.
Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.
You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.
Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.
“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,” 
“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.
“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.
“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.
“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.
Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.
“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.
“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.
You liked it when he was gentle.
When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss. 
But he knew better than that. 
You both did.
You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.
“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.
“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,” 
“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.
“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.
“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.
You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.
“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.
“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,” 
“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,” 
You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.
“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.
“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.
You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.
“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”
You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.
“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.
“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.
It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.
“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,” 
You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.
“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,” 
“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.
“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,” 
“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.
“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,” 
“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious? 
“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 
“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.
And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.
[More Logan]
[Main Master List]
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luvergirl-866 · 2 days ago
Text
something like love
part - 6
pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd
word count - 4.7k
c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)
a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!
The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.
The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)
The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.
The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.
Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.
Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.
“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”
“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”
Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.
But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.
Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.
“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”
“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“
“It’s stupid.”
“It’ll be fun!”
“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.
“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”
“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”
“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”
Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.
This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.
She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.
“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”
That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.
“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”
“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”
“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”
Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”
“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”
“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”
“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”
“I’ll force them, I swear.”
“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”
“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.
But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”
Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”
“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”
“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“
“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”
Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.
Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”
“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”
Things may just be looking up.
———————————————
Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.
“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.
“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”
“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”
“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.
“You did not just say that.”
Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”
If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”
“I’m being so for real.”
“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”
Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.
When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”
Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.
“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.
The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.
And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?
“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.
Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”
Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”
“I have,” Paige says defensively.
“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”
Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.
Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”
“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.
“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.
“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”
“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.
“Whoa, chill!”
“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”
Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”
“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”
For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”
Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”
“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”
“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”
Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.
Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.
When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”
“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.
“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”
“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.
Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”
“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.
Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”
“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”
“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”
“It’ll be boring.”
“Paige.”
Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”
Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”
A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”
“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”
“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”
“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”
“I’m not about to—“
“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.
“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.
“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”
Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.
“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.
“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”
So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.
Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.
After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”
“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.
“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.
Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”
Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.
Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.
A full-on gasp this time.
A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”
The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.
Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“
She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.
It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.
It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.
Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.
“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”
“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.
“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.
“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”
“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.
The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.
Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.
———————————————
“Sunscreen time!”
“No, what?”
“We just put some on!”
“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”
Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”
“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.
“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.
“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.
Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.
He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.
“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.
Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”
“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.
Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.
“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.
“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.
“I got a little melanin in me.”
Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.
Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”
Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.
Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.
The way Paige did do it again.
And there lies the burning question: why?
Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.
Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?
Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)
She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?
The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?
“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.
Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”
“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.
Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.
Azzi can’t really take it any longer.
“Why’d you kiss me?”
Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.
The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.
When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”
As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.
“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”
“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.
“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”
Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”
Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”
“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.
Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”
Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”
“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.
“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.
At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”
A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”
Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.
Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.
And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.
Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.
And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.
@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa
lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!
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no-144444 · 10 hours ago
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prince charming- l.norris
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summary: lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?
pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader
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Another show finished, another day done. All you had to do was meet some children and show them around the stage. It was a thing the company had decided to do after every single show, and you were one of the only ballerinas who enjoyed it. Everyone else ran out of there as fast as they could, but you stayed around, in full costume, showing them everything. 
“Y/n! Y/n! Look!” Mila, the little girl that had been assigned to you pulled on your hand and you followed her over. “It’s your Prince Charming!” She pointed at your co-star, Richard, who was playing Prince Charming while you played Cinderella. He was lovely and one of your best friends, but Mila’s face fell when she saw him kiss another girl, aka his actual girlfriend Mia. “He’s kissing someone else!” she gasped, looking at you hurt. 
You smiled. “We’re only together in the show, remember? My name isn’t Cinderella, is it?” You chuckled and she nodded, laughing. “So, that’s Richard, and he’s Mia’s real-life Prince Charming, not mine.”
She nodded understandingly. “Do you have a Prince Charming?”
You internally cringed, why did kids always want to know about your love-life? “No,” you smiled. 
Her face lit up. “OH! Perfect! Uncle Lala!” she called for her uncle to come over as your face fell. “Uncle Lala will you be Y/n’s Prince Charming so she can be my Auntie and we can have fun forever?!” 
Mila’s excited face and the ridiculousness of her statement, reminding him she truly didn’t know how the world worked, made him giggle. And with Lando, when he starts, he doesn’t stop. It took a whole minute for him to stop laughing, while you sat there awkwardly. You knew who he was, you knew why he was laughing, but it was still rude. Just say no, dude. 
“Mila, it doesn’t work like that,” he explained. “She’s way too pretty for me,” he whispered, sitting down beside her, and in front of you. 
Your eyes widened and you looked down, confused at the entire situation. 
“I know she is,” Mila answered (subtle dig at her uncle, but alright). “But you could ask her to dance or something. Princesses like dancing.”
Lando shook his head. “I’m an awful dancer.”
“Why do you just try talking to her!” Mila scoffed, then ran off to go look at some of the set of the show. 
You looked up and met his eyes and you both started laughing. “I’m so sorry about her, she gets like this sometimes,” he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. 
“It’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you waved him off, an easy smile on your face. 
“You get hit on through people’s nieces a lot?” he questioned. 
You chuckled. “It’s more common than you think, people love the ballerina shtick.”
He laughed. “How old are you?”
“I’m 23,” you answered. “And I’m Y/n.”
“I’m Lando,” he held his hand out to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”
“NIce to meet you too,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on the year you’ve had.”
“You watch F1?”
You nodded. “My mom has been into it since she was a kid, she gave that to me, so… yeah.”
“Who’s your favourite driver?” he smirked and you chuckled. 
“Nico Hulkenberg,” you smirked. 
He chuckled. “Understandable,” he smiled, nodding. “Mila is probably off somewhere trying to destroy your set, I should probably go grab her.”
You both got up and smiled at each other. “It was nice to meet you.”
“It was nice to meet you too, Prince Charming,” you joked, he giggled. 
And that was that. 
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
For the next few days, Lando could not get you out of his head. You were funny, kind, beautiful, good with Mila, everything he wanted in a person, yet he’d let you slip away. You weren’t even on social media, but he followed the company’s instagram and some of your friends to see pictures of you. He decided, once the season ended, he’d go back and find you. Maybe he really could become your Prince Charming. 
He joined the rest of the crowd in their standing ovation as you bowed, smiling brightly. He waited around and followed a few more people backstage to finally see you again. 
“Lando?” you questioned as you looked at him from behind. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you again,” he shrugged. “Happy holidays.”
You smiled. “So it is true,” your eyes shone with a hint of mischief. “You did follow the company account.”
He screwed his face up in a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d been caught. “You don’t have a public account, thought it would be weird to follow you on your private one.”
You chuckled. “I would’ve let you follow me,” you told him. “You are my Prince Charming, right?”
He beamed. “Right,” he nodded. “Dinner?”
“Let me get out of costume,” you agreed. You started to walk off and he didn’t follow, unsure what to do. You turned back and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”
He was very happy he had brought Mila to the ballet.
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
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sweetpupii · 2 days ago
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a heavy, exhausted sigh could be heard from the front door as it closed and something loudly—a backpack perhaps—dropped to the ground. ( hopefully nothing broke. )
the shuffling footsteps going from the living room to your room a clear indicator that it was just jayce and not a very loud burglar breaking into your apartment.
“hi, how was—oh?” your smile quickly turned into a surprised look as he interrupted your greeting by taking your phone out of your hands, spreading your legs to lay his full body weight on top of you, letting out another deep exhale from his chapped lips. don't even waste your time trying to convince him to take a lip balm to leave the house; he always forgets.
“I'm so tired…” he mumbled against the fabric of your top, instinctively snuggling into your abdomen while seeking warmth and contact. eyes growing even heavier than before. “I missed you.”
a soft smile finding its way to your lips once more at the quiet confession, gently tracing his tense shoulders with an index finger. “missed you too; you got home pretty late.”
he lazily nodded with a hum, hands slowly sliding up and down at your sides to distract himself from the stress. today has been absolutely awful. he just wanted to come home and cuddle while you talk about whatever.
a break.
“I still haven't found a material that does the same thing as cobalt for my project and is also cheap; nickel overheats, silicon expands, and I can't even afford graphene… it's driving me crazy.” a slight groan can be heard in his voice, clearly exhausted from trying and failing multiple times. 
“you won't be able to think about other solutions if you're working your ass off.”
“...yeah, I know that already, but I just—everyone’s already done with their own projects or already knows how to do it, but I'm still trying to figure it out.” jayce’s lips twitch into a frown, squeezing his eyes shut before burying his face on your chest. the gentle beat of your heart soothing his overwhelmed brain.
“from now on, no talking about work here unless it's really necessary. can't have you getting gray hairs in your early thirties.” he could only scoff at that comment.
“it's not like it would look bad…right?”
“nope but still, I would prefer seeing those because of the time that passes and not from stress.” the gentle kiss on his forehead automatically makes him lean forward into you, silently asking for more.
it felt good to think about being with you long enough you start seeing his gray hair appear.
“thanks…” jayce whispered while moving his head to also be able to return the affection with tiny kisses, his stubble lightly scratching your skin, gently trailing up to your lips with a steady and soft kiss that pulled you closer and easily melted away any lingering frustration in his body.
god, it felt good to be home.
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stxrslut · 3 days ago
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PRACTISE MAKES PERFECT ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
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pairing; bestfriend!sarah x innocent!reader
summary;  it’s no secret to you that sarah has a lot of experience with sex, boys and girls alike. you do not, so when you find out that you are possibly going to need to suck a dick, she takes the liberty of giving you your first ever bit of practise
content;  strap, oral (technically? idk), strap 
authors note; i kind of hate this actually, feels pretty rushed. requested by anon but i put my own twist on it.
“I got it!” she calls out from the front door when she returns from her little errand. you’re not actually sure what she ran out so urgently to get. you’d just got done telling her a rather personal thing actually, you were a little appalled when she abandoned you so quickly.
she comes into the room carrying a small paper bag which, to your astonishment, is branded with the emblem of the local sex shop. she throws it down on the bed before going to her dresser to retrieve something while she speaks ever so casually.
“jj maybank saw me buying that,” she chuckles, “so embarrassing.” she’s digging through her bottom drawer, throwing clothes left and right as she tries to find a specific unnamed item. 
“saw you buying what?” you ask perplexedly, brows furrowed. “you kinda ran out on me.” you don’t mean to put a passive aggressive tone in your voice but it is there.
“something to help you.” she looks back, “and I’m sorry about leaving so quickly, just that the shop was gonna close.” 
you tilt your head. help you? surely not to help with the dilemma you presented to her before she ran off, that would be absurd. “to help me with what?” 
she laughs at you like it’s obvious, “with your problem of course.” she shakes her head, “told me that you wanna suck this guy's dick, and that’s definitely something you don’t wanna go into with no experience.” 
you raise an eyebrow “well then how did you do it?” 
she waves you off, “that’s different— anyway, I thought since I helped you out before with the touching yourself thing, this wouldn’t be so different.” she shrugs and turns around after finally pulling out a bright pink dildo. 
“you’re gonna— I’m gonna suck on that?” you don’t even know what to say. “wait…” she hums and nods, waiting for the question, “if you already had that here.. what did you need to buy from the sex shop?” 
once again, she acts like it’s obvious, “the strap of course. can’t exactly learn the ins and outs of oral sex if the dick isn’t attached to a body.” she scoffs. bear in mind, you had never once asked her to show you the ins and outs.
“so youre gonna put the strap on.. and I'm going to suck it?” you question.
“yes, exactly.”
                                         *
this is so weird, you think as you kneel down in between sarah’s open legs where she's perched on the bed, bright pink toy sticking up like a sore thumb. or dick, if you want to be more literal. your lips are parted as you do your best to prepare yourself. “So I just…”
“suck, yeah,” she nods, smiling down at you, expression joyous, she seems to really enjoy teaching you things. “just start with the tip of it, you'll throw up if you go too fast.” she tells you. you frown.
“that can happen?” you ask, slightly astonished as you stop leaning forward to look up and listen to what she has to say. she nods and chuckles once again.
“oh yeah, that can happen.” she smiles, “but it won’t happen to you, because i’m gonna teach you how to do it right.” she strokes the hair on the back of your head affectionately and you take it as your sign to start.
at first you only take enough in your mouth to cover the front of your tongue, it doesn't even touch your gag reflex. It seems pretty easy. you follow sarah's directions to swirl your tongue and where to swirl it. as it continues, you find yourself subconsciously taking more of it.
the fake veins imprinted on the sparkly toy create texture to stimulate your tongue, you do your best to imagine it a little more coarse, like skin, maybe imagine the skin moving a little, sarah had told you that happens with dicks. 
suddenly, it jerks upwards slightly and you pull back in little shock to see sarah holding the base, controlling its movement. “what did you do that for!?” you exclaim.
she giggles, “yeah, they do that sometimes.” she strokes your hair again, “just twitch outta nowhere, you gotta be ready for it babe, i'm just doing whatever a good best friend would.” you have to fight making a snarky remark, sure that this is not what normal best friends do.
you go back down with a little more confidence, you manage to get about half of the toy in your mouth which sarah tells you is amazing for your first time. sure you gag a couple of times but you persevere and by the end you could probably consider yourself a seasoned pro.
you stop when sarah begins to imitate what she says is a boy having an orgasm, “ugh.. oh yeah,” she grunts in an over exaggerated deep voice, “so good babe, im like literally cumming right now.” 
you giggle, “i'm sure they don't sound that stupid.” but sarah shakes her head, looking down at you with matter of factly raised eyebrows.
“oh baby, you have so much to learn.” she scruffs your hair affectionately. “but for now,” she gestures down to the little wet spot that she can see in your panties due to your skirt riding up, “why don't I show you a different way to help with that.”
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buckevantommy · 3 days ago
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Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.
The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.
But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.
After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.
"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.
And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.
"Um. I-I, uh."
"Are you okay?"
A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."
"Are you hurt?"
The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.
"Guess that depends."
"On what?"
"What kinda hurt you mean."
There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"
Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.
"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."
Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.
So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.
"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."
Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."
"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."
It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."
"Evan.."
Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."
Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."
Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.
Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."
He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."
Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.
"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."
Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..
"I'll meet you at mine."
Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.
*
It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.
He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.
Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.
He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.
Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.
And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.
Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.
He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.
Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.
"About that engine.."
Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.
"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."
Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."
buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.
and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.
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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 days ago
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They talked about this before it started, that if it got to be much for anything, they would talk about it. Steve would understand. He always did, especially since he was afraid himself. Eddie's panic attacks were happening more frequently, and what happened over spring break was still fresh in everyone's minds. It was difficult for Eddie to breathe, and Steve knew it was coming, and Eddie did too. They could feel it when they touched, kissed, and fucked. They were already mourning a relationship that was never supposed to be serious in the first place. The next morning, Eddie told him that his band wanted to go on the road.
"I figured," Steve said, picking at his blanket.
"You're not mad?" Eddie asked.
"Of course not," Steve said. "This town is killing you, Eddie, I couldn't ask you to stay."
"You could ask," Eddie shrugged.
"You wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't want you to resent me for staying," Steve said.
"You could come with me," Eddie said.
"You know that I can't leave the kids until they graduate," Steve said.
"And I can?" Eddie asked.
"Yes," Steve said. "You want to go. Do you want to go?"
"I do," Eddie said, swallowing thickly.
"I don't want to hold you back," Steve replied.
"You could never," Eddie said and paused. "I suppose you really can't have it all. You're right, I suppose I can't stay. I know I should have said. . .but I guess you could already tell. This town is killing me and not even you - which is crazy because you're Steve fucking Harrington. You're the most beautiful man alive. Inside and out."
Steve pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring everything he had into it. He could taste salty tears on his tongue. He couldn't tell who was crying more. Steve pulled back with a gasp.
"Eddie, I - " Steve closed his mouth and said nothing.
The next day, they said another goodbye, this time in front of everyone. It wasn't nearly as intimate. No one knew they were fucking. They had still been figuring things out about themselves, and Eddie hadn't been quite ready to label himself or tell anyone. Steve couldn't even tell Robin. The day after Eddie left, Steve took off to another bar outside of Hawkins. He couldn't go to the Hideout, too many memories, and he couldn't explain to people why he was drowning his sorrows. Steve was having a lot more difficult time than he had thought he would, and he respected Eddie's choice but it was killing him that he was gone, that there was an empty spot in his bed. He couldn't even tell Robin why he was so heartbroken. The best thing about this bar was that it was attached to a motel, so he was planning on getting drunk and finding his way to the room he rented. Of course, that's where he met Tiffany, who was just as heartbroken as he was. . .
"Steve, Steeeeve," Robin sang.
"Ugh, Robin, go away, my head is killing me," Steve said.
"Yeah, that's probably because you drank half the motel bar," Robin said.
"How are you here?" He asked, burying his head deeper into the pillow.
"You gave the girl you slept with my phone number, and you told her to let me know if you accidentally died," Robin said.
"I'm not dead," Steve groaned.
"No, but you look it," Robin scoffed. "You're going to need to check out soon."
"Where's - " Steve asked, looking up. "Tiffany?"
"Yeah. She left," Robin said.
"That's probably good for her," Steve said. "Ooh. I'm going to puke. Yeah, no, wait - yeah, I'm going puke."
He slipped out of the bed, butt naked, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.
"Jesus, what the hell? I thought you were done with one night stands?" Robin asked.
"I just - yeah, I mean, I was but then - FUCK!" Steve yelled and then he burst into tears.
Robin frowned and grabbed a sheet of the bed, tossing it over him. She cleaned his mouth, sat on the floor, and pulled his head into her lap.
"Steve?" Robin asked. "I know you and Eddie have gotten close, but I didn't think you'd be this upset that he left. Jesus, how are you going to handle me going off to college? Shit, I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I? Was that a little insensitive? Steve?"
"I'm in love with him," Steve sobbed, and then everything came pouring out. "I'm sorry and shit, I think I need to apologize to Eddie because I shouldn't have told you."
"Hey, hey, slow down. I think he'd understand," Robin said softly. "There's a lot to process here. I'm sorry, babe, I should have known."
"It's not your fault," Steve said. "I'm just so stupid."
"It's not your fault either," Robin said. "It was just a sticky situation for the both of you. And if you ever call my best friend stupid again, I'm going to beat you up. Only I'm allowed to call you a dingus, okay?"
"Okay," Steve said and laughed.
"Come on, let's get you home. . .dingus," Robin said.
Steve smiled. She always said dingus like she was saying I love you. God, she was his best friend.
"Dingus," Steve said, and Robin laughed.
"You're so drunk," she giggled. "Come on, Popeye."
It was a difficult time for Steve over the next few months, even more difficult than when he got over Nancy Wheeler. Maybe because he had allowed himself to be more vulnerable than he ever had with Nancy, and maybe in doing so, he had fallen harder for Eddie. With Robin's help, he was able to move forward. It helped that he had sold and moved out of his parents' place. They didn't think he could sell the place, but he proved them wrong. And with the money, he was able to tuck a lot of it away and move into a comfortable two bedroom apartment, an apartment that he was allowed to decorate however he wanted. After nearly a year, he was in a good place when things decided to turn upside down again for Steve. We'll, roughly 9 months later, to be a little more precise. . .
"Oh my god! I can't believe you forgot to buy me my favorite chips! After I came all this way to visit you!" Robin yelled.
"If you would move stuff around, you'll find them!" Steve exclaimed as he set up the movie.
"Oh, there they are! I knew you still loved me," Robin said.
Steve rolled his eyes as Robin came into the living room, her arms laden with snacks. She unceremoniously dumped them on the table.
"I'm glad you were able to pull yourself away from Vickie long enough to visit me before heading back to Chicago," Steve said.
"I can prioritize between the romantic love of my life and the platonic love of my life," Robin said.
Steve and Robin snuggled into each other, their matching pajamas firmly in place, as they settled in for the evening. Just as they were about to start the movie, Steve got the phone call. Robin watched as Steve could only give one words answers before finally putting the phone back down, his face pale.
"Steve?" Robin asked.
"We're going to have to cut the evening short," Steve said.
"What? But we've been planning this evening for weeks - "
"Robin, I'm a dad."
They drove to Indianapolis, where Tiffany had given birth, and now they were standing in the nursery, staring at the swaddled baby right in front of them. Tiffany had already left the hospital by the time they arrived.
"She's so tiny," Steve said breathlessly.
"And pink," Robin said. "She doesn't have a name yet. Do you have any ideas?"
"I - I don't know," Steve said.
"Do you want to keep her?" Robin asked.
"Yeah, I know it's crazy, but I want her," Steve said as he took her hand in his, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "More than anything."
"You think of a name while I take your credit card and go get some supplies for your little chicken nugget," Robin said, squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a great dad."
Robin pressed a kiss to his hair, cooed at the baby, and then quickly left them alone. Steve watched his daughter wiggle in her blanket and listened to the noises she made, her little tongue darting out every so often. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. It must be so confusing to come into this world, not knowing who you are, where you are, and taken from the only place you've ever known. Steve placed a hand on her chest.
"It's okay, I'm here," Steve whispered, and he smiled when she calmed down a bit.
"You can pick her up, you know," the nurse said.
Steve almost jumped. He forgot he wasn't alone in the room. A friendly faced hispanic nurse was there, chuckling at him.
"I know, I just don't want to - she's so small," Steve said.
"Every good parent is afraid of dropping them," the nurse said. "Come sit over here."
Steve sat down in the rocking chair and watched as she picked up his daughter. He glanced at her name tag. Sofia. She placed the baby carefully into his waiting arms. He gasped in delight, the feeling of holding her overwhelming him in a very good way. Was he crying?
"Thanks, Nurse Sofia," Steve said.
"She looks good in your arms," Sofia said.
"She feels good. Feels right," he muttered. "She's so wonderful. Hey, there. I'm your dad. I know, it's crazy. Don't feel intimated by my hair. You're bald now, kiddo, but it'll grow. . .and even if it doesn't, I'll still love you. . .oh, I'm suddenly terrified. I am going to mess her up."
"Hush, you're going to be fine," Sofia said.
Steve watched as the baby's head started to move around, as though she was looking for something and she started to whimper.
"I think she's hungry," Steve said.
"See? Your instincts are already kicking in," Sofia said.
Steve smiled. Sofia reminded him of both Claudia and Sue. Oh, speaking of them. . .they're going to freak when they find out Steve made them grandmothers. Sophia left to go the formula and came back with it pretty quickly. She showed him how to hold it so the baby wouldn't choke.
"Thank you," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. . .oh, she's really going to town. Yeah, she was hungry."
"She goes after it like my four boys did," Sofia said.
"You have four boys?" Steve asked.
"Oh, yeah, they're a handful, but I love them. Supposedly, girls are easier, but I think that's bullshit," Sofia scoffed.
"Oh, girls are just as much of a handful. I babysit a group of teenagers," Steve said.
"Then you have some practice under your belt," Sofia said. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I'd name her Elizabeth. Never happened, but I'm happy with my boys, more than enough for me."
"Elizabeth," Steve whispered.
"Does that name mean something to you?" She asked. "It sounds like it."
It was Eddie's mother's name. He remembered him talking about her all the time, how she died when he was six, and how he got his love of his music from her. Eddie always wished he could have had more time with her.
"Elizabeth," Steve whispered to his daughter, and he smiled.
"Elizabeth Robin?"
"Of course, I named her after you," Steve scoffed.
"Oh my sweet little baby bird," Robin cooed. "I can't believe I have to go back to school soon. . .as her godmother, shouldn't I get like godmaternity leave?"
"Yeah, I don't think they do that," Steve said.
"Well, they should," Robin said.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Steve said.
"If you love your child, you would," Robin said. "By the way, Tiffany left you a letter at the front desk. They gave it to me."
Together, they got Elizabeth into the car seat and then into the car with Robin in the driver's seat, bringing her home. . .
Dear Steve,
I hope that night meant a lot to you as it did to me. I wanted to face you and tell you so many times, but I'm kind of a coward. I think we were both very heartbroken that night, and I hope you found the same comfort in me that I did in you. It gave the courage that I needed to face who I truly am.
I feel like something greater than ourselves brought us together that night. I was just a mere vessel. . .I know you wanted to be with someone else. You called out their name, and you said it like a declaration of love. I wasn't meant to be a mother, not yet. This isn't my baby. I hope that everything works out and that you feel it as much as I do. I was glad to help you and be a part of this journey. Don't wait too long to be honest with yourself.
Sincerely, Tiffany
"A mere vessel? What the hell does that mean?" Steve asked.
"Fuck if I know."
A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LATER. . .
Eddie scowled, his ear pressed to the phone, as Dustin went on about Steve’s new special girl in his life. How many times did Eddie have to say that he didn't want to hear about it? He swore that Dustin's ears were only there for decoration.
"Yeah, yeah, that's great that this Liddie person likes Robin more than you, but I need to tell you something, and you can't say anything to Steve," Eddie said. "You can't say anything to anyone."
"Ooh, a secret, lay it on me, and by the way, her name is - " Dustin started to say.
"Okay, whatever. I don't care. I'm surprising Steve and coming home for his birthday," Eddie said.
"Oh, shit! He'll love that. He's missed you like crazy. We all have," Dustin said. "If you get in late, make sure it's before 7 because that's when he puts her to bed."
"He gives her a bedtime?" Eddie asked.
"Of course, he does! It would be completely irresponsible to let her go to bed whenever she wanted to. She needs a schedule, Eddie," Dustin said.
"That sounds a little controlling, but okay," Eddie said.
"Well, what time would you give her?" He asked.
"I wouldn't give her a bedtime at all!" Eddie shrieked.
"Eddie! You can't do that!" Dustin exclaimed.
"Look, just don't ruin the surprise, okay?" Eddie asked before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.
Yeah, he was definitely going to win Steve back because, honestly, this new relationship of his sounded a bit messy, and Steve deserved better than that. How much trouble could this girl be that she needed a bedtime? She has to be the one that's trouble. . .right? Steve Harrington couldn't have lost his way. There's no way he would have turned to the dark side after he left. Either way, Eddie needed to intervene.
"Okay, okay, you can do this," Eddie breathed.
He looked at the address written on the piece of paper and checked it again. He was in the right place. He didn't waste any time after visiting with Wayne. Steve’s apartment was his second place to visit. Eddie took another deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Coming!" Steve yelled, and then he heard muffled laughter from Steve. "Lizzie! Stop barking! You're not a dog! I'm going to have to talk to Robin about teaching you that."
Steve opened the door, and he nearly stumbled back at the sight of Eddie. Steve was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt of Eddie's. . .to Eddie's delight. His hair was longer, and he had quite a bit more scruff to him. Eddie was also pleased to see that he was wearing his glasses.
"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Eddie," Steve breathed.
They've talked on the phone and written each other letters but it was definitely better seeing each other in person.
"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," Eddie said. "Surprise!"
"My birthday isn't until next week," Steve said in amusement.
"So, I came early," Eddie said, and then he smirked. "It's not like I haven't done that before. . .but then, you know that."
"Eddie," Steve scolded, but he was smiling and blushing. "Come on in."
"Don't mind if I do," Eddie said, stepping over the threshold. "So, where's this girl of yours? . . . Liddie? I want to meet her."
"She's in the living room, and her name is Lizzie," Steve corrected, laughing. "Come on."
Eddie followed behind Steve, enjoying the view as he did so. When he walked into the living room, all he saw was a playpen with a little girl inside. Was Steve in the middle of babysitting?
"I don't see her," Eddie frowned.
"Lizzie's right there, Eddie," Steve laughed, pointing at the crib.
"Oh my god! Steve!" Eddie yelled, appalled.
"Uh?" Lizzie asked, looking up from chewing on her teddy bear.
"Yeah, I know, I have a daughter," Steve said. "Surprise! Although, I thought you knew."
"A daughter! Oh, oh, thank god!" Eddie said, clutching his chest.
"What were you thinking?" Steve asked in confusion.
"Uh, never mind what I was thinking," Eddie said, blushing. "So, a daughter, huh? How old?"
"A year and three months," Steve said proudly.
"Oh, wow," Eddie said with a grin.
"Yeah. Time flies, and it seems like only it was only yesterday that I was in the hospital with her. . .holding her for the first time," Steve said.
A year and three months. Eddie looked at the kid. She was cute with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Apart from that, she looked almost exactly like Steve. Eddie chuckled. It almost looked like they had a baby together. A year and three months. A year and three months?! Eddie did the math in his head. They had sex right before Eddie left, which meant that Lizzie would have had to have been concieved sometime around there. Lizzie. . .Elizabeth. . .oh, after his mom?
"Oh my god," Eddie whispered softly and grabbed his arms. "Steve. . .Steve, is she mine?"
"Eddie," Steve said slowly. "I want you to really think about what you just said."
"I am thinking about it! I'm thinking about you going through all that alone!" Eddie exclaimed. "You had to deliver her without me there to hold your hand!"
"Eddie, I didn't - "
"I'm such an idiot! I never should have left, I mean, I could have toughed it out a few more years!" Eddie shrieked.
"Eddie, I swear - "
"Oh, my god, and even though I wasn't there for you, you still named our daughter after my mother," Eddie rambled.
"If you would just stop for a minute and listen - "
"Steve!" Eddie said, grabbing his arms. "Was it the bat bites? Because I slept with a guy like a month ago, and it was only because he was wearing a polo like you! I also slept with a girl. . .she had hair like yours! Can girls also get me pregnant?! Do I have to take a pregnancy test?. . .Lizzie, sweetheart, I think you're going to be a big sister!"
"Arf! Arf!" Lizzie barked.
Eddie bent over, putting his head between his legs as his mind spun around in circles. He felt Steve grab him and drag him into the kitchen. Steve yanked off his vest and jacket, tossing them onto the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbed Eddie's head, and shoved it under the water. Eddie shrieked.
"Okay! Okay!"
Steve turned off the water and let him up. Eddie scowled as he rung out his hair.
"Are you done?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, thanks, I needed that," Eddie said.
"Lizzie is not your daughter," Steve said.
"She's not?" Eddie asked, with wide eyes.
"Okay, with you looking at me like that, I kinda regret saying that," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Eddie."
"No, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Eddie said. "I think I just regret doing that."
"Eddie, this town was suffocating you," Steve said. "You needed to leave."
"Did I, though?" Eddie asked. "Wayne managed to tough it out here."
"You need to stop beating yourself up for reacting to a bad situation that was out of your control," Steve said.
"I regretted the minute I left, but I was already out there on the road with the boys," Eddie said. "I loved it, but I think I might have left my heart behind here."
"You want to stay?" Steve asked.
"If you'll take me back," Eddie said.
"It's hard to say no when you're looking all sad and wet like that," Steve said.
"I want to stay anyway, even if you don't want to take me back," Eddie said.
"I have missed you every single minute of every single day," Steve said. "I haven't stopped loving you or hoping we'll find our way back to each other."
"I love you," Eddie whispered.
"I love you, too," Steve said.
Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He felt Steve smiling into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pressed Steve up against the counter, melting into him like butter. He broke the kiss, crossing to press thousands of tiny kisses all over Steve’s face. Steve giggled and pushed him back.
"Will Lizzie's mother have a problem with this?" Eddie asked.
"Oh, she's not in the picture. Hold on," Steve said.
He left and came back to Eddie, putting his hair into a towel. He handed Eddie a letter.
"What's this?" Eddie asked, sitting on a stool.
"The day after you left, I went to a hotel bar, drank it, and met a woman who was just as heartbroken as I was," Steve said. "We slept together and nine months later, Lizzie was born."
"A mere vessel," Eddie cackled after reading it. "I like her. She sounds like me."
"She also looks like you," Steve blushed.
"Okay, so we went the long way around, but we got here," Eddie laughed. "She is my daughter."
"What?" Steve asked.
"In every other way except biologically, Elizabeth is mine. I mean, you even named her after my mother," Eddie said.
"Yeah, I did do that," he blushed.
Eddie pulled Steve in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. He studied his face, drinking in every inch of skin, every mole. . .God, he loved this man.
"Steve Harrington, if you want me to, I want to be your baby daddy," Eddie sighed.
"I do," Steve smiled.
Eddie flashed his dimples and smacked Steve’s ass.
"Well, introduce me to our daughter, big boy," Eddie said.
Steve laughed and pulled him up off the stool. Holding his hand, he pulled him down the hall. Eddie stopped him before pulling the towel off his head and fixing his hair. He straightened his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.
"I want to look good," Eddie said, and then he gasped. "Steve, what if she doesn't like me?"
"Eddie, she barks like a dog. She's going to love you," Steve said.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, and Steve just shook his head.
Eddie followed Steve into the living room, where Lizzie had moved onto a cloth book. Her little tongue was out as her little finger traced the words as though she was trying to teach herself how to read. Eddie smiled. She glanced up and smiled at Eddie then at Steve.
"Dada?" Lizzie asked and held her hands up towards Steve.
Steve pulled her out of the playpen and put her on his hip. Holy fuck, Eddie thought, he looks totally hot.
"Lizzie, this is Eddie. He's going to be your other Dada," Steve said.
"Dada?" Lizzie asked, confused.
"You get two!" Steve exclaimed, pointing to himself and then to Eddie.
"Two Dadas!" Lizzie clapped.
"Wow, she caught on quick," Eddie said.
"Yeah, she's smart. I'm still not sure how much she understands," Steve said.
Lizzie leaned over Steve’s arms and reached towards Eddie. He grinned and took Lizzie into his arms.
"Hi," Eddie whispered.
"Hi," Lizzie said.
"Hi."
"Hi," Lizzie said, and then she giggled.
She reached over and started licking Eddie's cheek. Eddie cackled.
"Yeah, we definitely should talk to Robin about this. She can't go around licking people," Eddie giggled.
"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Lizzie shrieked as she bounced on his hip.
"Ooh! I wonder - ," Eddie gasped.
"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.
Eddie set Lizzie on the floor and sprawled out in front of her.
"Okay, can you raise your little fingers like this?" Eddie said as he raised his pointer fingers to his head to make horns.
Lizzie blinked at him. She reached over and grabbed Eddie's hair.
"Ah!" Lizzie screamed.
"No, baby, no!" Eddie said while Steve laughed.
Eddie eventually guided her gently and got her to make little horns while sticking out her tongue. It wasn't perfect, but she managed it with Eddie's help. Luckily, it took Eddie long enough for Steve to get a camera.
"Good job, daddy," Steve said.
He leaned down and kissed Eddie. Lizzie shrieked and pushed Steve off Eddie. She scrunched up her face at them before hugging Eddie.
"No, Daddy, don't do that," Eddie laughed. "That's gross. . .Thanks for saving me, baby."
"I ordered dinner. . .Are you gonna stay the night?" Steve asked.
"I'm going to stay forever," Eddie said as he hugged Lizzie to him.
After dinner, Eddie happily helped Steve give Lizzie a bath before throwing a colander over a flashlight in Lizzie's room to make stars. He laid down on the floor with Lizzie curled up between him and Steve, her eyes getting heavy.
". . .so I opened my eyes and wondered if I was floating. I realized a moment later that a beautiful man was carrying me out of hell. He was begging me to stay with him, and I did want to stay with him, but I didn't know why. He spent the next few weeks taking care of me, and I spent the same amount of time trying to fight the fact that I was falling for him, a man. It wasn't until the town had run me out that I realized I was in love with him. When I came back, I realized I never wanted to leave him again. . . That man, of course, was your daddy. So, the next time I go on the road, it's going to be with you and your daddy in an RV. Your daddy is going to be playing obnoxious music, so I apologize in advance."
"Hey, your music is not obnoxious," Steve said.
"I was talking about yours," Eddie grinned.
"Hey!" Steve exclaimed, slapping his chest.
"Shh! Steve, our daughter is asleep. . .what is that sound?!"
"Yeah, she snores," Steve said.
"My god, that's the loudest sound I have heard from someone so tiny."
"Hey, Eddie," Steve whispered.
"Yeah?"
"We're a family," Steve said and Eddie leaned over Lizzie's head to kiss him.
" . . . And they all lived happily ever after. . ."
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thus-spoke-lo · 18 hours ago
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pairing: silco x gn!reader. cw: angsty. reader implied to be close to Silco's age. wc: 1.2k
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Silco bends at the waist and leans down to meet your gaze as you sit perched on the edge of the couch cushion. He runs his fingertip along your orbital bone and down to trace the contours of your jawline, places a dry palm on the side of your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb. His eyes narrow as he examines every inch of you, as if he’s confirming again and again that it’s really, truly you.
“My word,” he says after a moment, a hint of something close to reverence in his voice, “you look nearly unchanged.”
Of course, it isn’t true. There are lines around your mouth whenever you smile, deep-set creases in your forehead where there was once smooth skin. Your bones creak, your joints ache, your muscles scream at you when you sleep the wrong way on the floor of your tiny, barren home. Your body isn’t as flexible as it once was, nor as reactive—it’s how you were caught in the first place, how you ended up in the hands of Silco’s men, dropped unceremoniously onto this sofa with no warning that it would be Silco you would be faced with.
“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to focus your gaze on his good eye. “You certainly know how to flatter.”
You want to tell him he is just as unchanged, but the uncertainty of his reaction turns your stomach; he looks at you just as he once did, with the same softness hidden in his features, but with a veneer of harshness over it. Despite this, he is, in ways, the same man you knew: the same striking aquiline nose and sharp jawline, the same blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk, the same glint in his eye when he was trying (often unsuccessfully, but still amusingly) to flirt.
“How did you ever find me?” you finally ask, placing your hand on his as he cradles your face. His skin is cool to the touch, and you can feel him react, just slightly, at the warmth of your palm.
Silco pauses for a moment. “Sheer luck, I suppose—one often finds lost objects when they’re looking for them the least.”
A grin creeps up the corners of your mouth. He’s still just as charming as he was then, when he wants to be. Of course he would deny ever searching for you, probably still would under duress if you still had it in you to threaten those in power, but such pursuits didn’t come as easy as the once did.
“You kept yourself well-hidden.” He says it almost chidingly—you’d made it difficult on him.
“I had to, you know that.”
Silco kneels before you, places his other hand on your face and holds your head still, forcing you to meet his burning gaze. “I could have protected you.”
“Not then, you couldn’t have.” Certainly not like he could now, as the Eye of Zaun. No, you couldn’t expect to rely on others then, not him, not Vander, not anyone else, only yourself. And if that meant living a life of solitude barely worth living, then so be it—at least you were alive.
“Of course I could have—I would have.” The accusation seems to rattle him, and his grip on your face becomes more vice-like, his hands beginning to shake. “I would have done whatever it took. I would hope you would have known me well enough to know that, hm?”
“Silco, you’re hurting me,” you finally eke out, a rasped whisper, and he immediately releases his hold on you.
Silco sits back on his heels as you rub your aching jaw, his mouth opening and closing as words seemed to catch in his throat. “Tell me—why did you really stay away?”
All the reasons begin to flood you, burning in your blood, all the things you’d turned over in your mind year after year. Because I was afraid. I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of you losing me. I had to leave before you abandoned me, before the world abandoned us both. But all that you manage is a soft, defeated, “I don’t know.”
You slide down to the floor with him, press your forehead to his. The room melts around you, the architecture and the furniture disintegrating until all that remains is you and Silco, and the remains of what was and the scaffolds of what could be.
A low creak brings the room back together again, shocks you back into consciousness. Sevika stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her broad chest, her gaze fixed on some point just above and beyond the two of you; she clears her throat and gestures towards the door.
“I-I’m afraid I have business to attend to.” Silco stands, straightens himself as he nods and waves a hand to dismiss Sevika, leaving the two of your alone again, for now. “Unavoidable, I suppose.”
“Of course.” You clear your throat and scramble back to the couch, sitting up ramrod straight, feeling suddenly and overwhelmingly raw. “It was lovely catching up, Silco. But I...I suppose I should be going as well.”
He cocks his head, glaring at you almost incredulously as he smooths his vest. “Go where?”
“Home, I suppose,” you shrug. Anywhere but here. Anywhere you won’t be captivated by memories, lured by the life you’d built in your head, pulled into the unknown by years of want finally able to be realized.
He inhales deeply and sits beside you on the sofa, his lean hip digging into yours, hand settling on your thigh. “What could possibly be there for you now that you need to leave so abruptly?”
Nothing. There is nothing for you there. Everything you wanted is here, right here, because he forced your hand and dragged you back in time with him against your will. You run your fingers over his forearm, dancing in the fabric peaks and valleys of his shirtsleeve and your heart pounds and your brain buzzes and everything in you aches for him.
“You act like time stood still when we last saw each other. Like we can just pick right back up where we left off.” Hot tears form at the corners of your lash line, and you do nothing to stop them from tumbling down your cheeks. “But time never stopped, I never stopped. I kept running. I had to.”
Silco grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns your head towards him. There’s the softness you missed, the same concerned expression and furrowed brow he’d wear whenever he’d catch you in a rare moment of melancholy. “What if you don’t have to run anymore?”
“Silco, time just keeps moving, even if I don’t want it to.” A sob hitches in your throat and comes out a deep and mournful wail, years of want and need, of anguish and grief, all escaping you at once.
He slides a hand to the back of your neck, squeezing it gently, and waits, waits for your cries to become hiccups to become soft sniffles. He leans in close, so close his breath warms your skin and his lips ghost yours and you want him to kiss you so badly, more than you ever have and ever will. “Then let it halt for a moment with me...won’t you?”
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tortillamastersblog · 1 day ago
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Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter
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Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader
Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing
Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.
Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .
Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist
_______________________________________________
Present
Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .
Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.
That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.
It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.
I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.
She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.
I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.
She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?
I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.
I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.
I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.
“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.
I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”
“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.
“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“
“You sure?” she asks and I nod.
“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.
“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”
I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.
About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.
Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.
Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”
There’s no answer.
“Vinson?”
Again, nothing.
My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.
“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.
I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.
“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.
He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.
I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.
“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”
Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.
With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.
I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.
I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.
“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.
The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.
We have to leave.
Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.
My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.
We have to leave, now!
Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.
He’s here. I know it.
I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.
Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.
That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.
The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.
Just get to the elevator.
The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.
Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.
I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.
I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.
It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.
That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.
Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.
There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.
That could be me, or worse, Tara.
Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.
My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.
I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.
I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.
With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.
Fuck.
Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.
Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.
There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.
Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.
We need help.
Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.
Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.
No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.
My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.
We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.
Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.
My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.
Please, no. Not now.
I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.
I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.
We’re trapped.
We’re alone.
I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.
That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.
I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.
I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.
Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.
I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.
This is it. He’s here.
I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.
Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.
“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”
“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.
I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.
“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.
“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.
I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.
“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.
Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.
He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.
“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.
Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.
We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.
“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.
“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”
Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.
Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.
Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.
I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.
My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.
“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”
Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.
It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.
“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“
“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.
Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“
“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”
Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.
I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”
Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.
He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.
No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.
“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.
He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.
“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”
Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.
My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.
“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.
“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”
I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”
“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.
The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.
Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.
Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.
“Stop, let me help.”
Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”
“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”
Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.
“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.
I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.
Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.
They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.
A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.
Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.
He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.
He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.
Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.
“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”
They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.
“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.
Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”
Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.
“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.
Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”
Richie frowns. “What?”
“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.
Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”
A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”
“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.
It’s too late.
The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.
Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.
She’s okay.
Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.
She’s going to be okay.
The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.
He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.
I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.
I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.
Wait. . . Sam?
“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.
I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”
“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”
“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.
It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.
“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”
I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.
“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.
“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.
They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?
I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.
Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.
Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.
My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.
I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.
“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.
She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.
“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.
I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.
“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.
“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.
“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”
I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.
My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.
This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.
I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.
She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.
So beautiful. . .
I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.
_______________________________________________
Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.
Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423
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