#he just doesn’t want to upset hazel

[belllllove]

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s eyes are brown.

At least, that’s what Steve would’ve said before staring into his eyes for…ten seconds? Thirty seconds? Five minutes? … he’s lost track of time.

But the time is certainly not wasted.

Steve’s not sure how he’s never noticed that brown eyes aren’t just brown. It’s a silly thought, and he knows that he should probably know this considering he also has brown eyes, but maybe he’s been too focused on his hair. And maybe he’s been a little too focused on Eddie’s lips…

He fights to glance down at them as Eddie stares back at him, his pupils blown wide, but every now and then when he leans a little to the side, the sunlight from the windows hits his eyes just right and his pupils contract, showing off all the color in his eyes. And Steve loves when this happens.

The brown turns into an almost amber color, deep brown highlighted by hints of warm red and orange. And at the bottom of his eyes, there’s small patches of gold standing out against the deep brown ring that circles the whole iris.

Steve thinks he could get lost in it all and stare for hours.

He leans in a little closer, trying to see more of that gold, and nearly groaning when Eddie shifts away from the light again, eyes becoming such a deep brown that Steve can easily see his reflection.

But he doesn’t want to see himself, he wants to see how that dark chocolate turns into that gold and red in the sunlight.

Then, something Steve didn’t fathom happens.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“Steve won!” Dustin shouts, as the other kids carry on loudly, and Steve is harshly startled back into reality.

A staring contest. That’s what this was supposed to be. A staring contest, not a Steve gets lost in his friend’s eyes for so long that he forgets to blink contest. Christ.

He glances sheepishly at Eddie and takes in all his features, the furrowed brow and the slight frown to his lips as Eddie tugs at a stand of hair.

As the kids file out of the room, moving onto whatever activity is going to keep them entertained next, Steve asks, “Are you that upset about losing?”

Eddie shakes his head and leans forward, staring into Steve’s eyes again. Steve fights not to look too deeply, afraid he’ll get lost in the depths forever if he gives himself the chance.

“I saw something I hadn’t seen before,” Eddie comments, looking back and forth between his two eyes.

“I did too,” Steve admits, allowing himself to stare a bit. He reaches out and pulls Eddie closer to him, getting both his eyes directly in the sunlight. “I see a whiskey my dad used to always keep on his desk, with hints of gold that reminds me of the jewelry my dad got for my mom, back when they still loved each other.”

His heart pounds at the memories, back to a time when things almost seemed normal. When he thought he would always be happy.

Steve shakes his head and glances away, unsure of how the colors he saw before could bring up the deep memories he spewed to Eddie. He changes the subject and asks, “What did you see in mine?”

He expects maybe an analysis of green and brown, or hazel as many girls tell him after staring at him for long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He wonders why Eddie doesn’t make him feel that way.

A finger lifts Steve’s chin, turning his gaze back to Eddie whose stare sends chills down his spines. “I saw longing,” Eddie states and continues, “Was it for those things? Those memories?”

Steve finds himself shaking his head as his eyes glance down to Eddie’s lips which twitch as he swallows. “Was it longing?” Eddie asks, nervousness seeping into his tone.

Steve glances back at his eyes and nods. It’s not like he’s unaware of his deeper feelings for Eddie, but he didn’t expect to fall so hard in just a few moments as he stared into his eyes. And he definitely didn’t expect to have those emotions read so clearly in his own eyes.

Eddie’s hand slowly moves to cup Steve’s face as he says, “Steve, read my own eyes for a moment. Please see the-”

“Can you guys give us a ride to the arcade?!” Dustin yells from the other room.

Steve sees Eddie’s eyes flash with annoyance which is much different from the loving expression from before.

Loving.

Steve takes a deep breath and steps back as he hears multiple footsteps hurriedly making their way back to the kitchen.

“Did you hear us?” Mike asks, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “Get to the car.”

He lingers back with Eddie as he watches all the kids run to his car, and when Steve gets to the door with Eddie behind him, he yells, “Give me a minute, I need to grab my wallet!”

He closes the door quickly and rushes into Eddie’s space, cupping his face, and asking, “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, hope and deep longing shining in his eyes.

“Good,” Steve says, leaning forward and meeting Eddie in the middle as they hurriedly kiss, pouring in all the longing they’ve both experienced for months now but were too oblivious to see before.

(Robin laughs for minutes on end when she hears that a staring contest is what got them together when they’ve been having multiple for months without the label. Steve just rolls his eyes, but as soon as Eddie asks, “Want to have another staring contest?” He can’t resist.)

[azsazz]

Glitz, Glam & Grand Prix

Formula One!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Set at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you, as Ferrari's team Media Trainer, struggle with keeping both drivers in line.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,887

Notes: Back again with another F1 AU 💙 so obsessed with this trope tbh

Belongs to the Off Grid collection.

_________________________________________

“I am not wearing this,” Azriel says flatly, staring at the garment in his hand in horror. He’s holding the hanger hook between a pinched thumb and forefinger, like the newly designed sequined bomber jacket might jump off the holder and strangle him.

He might prefer that.

“Yes, you are,” you answer, distractedly. Your phone buzzes in your hand, another email coming through. Something about a calendar change with the scheduled interviews for the two drivers you’re in charge of for media training. “You’re going to put that jacket on, just like all of the other drivers are doing, and you’re going to march your ass over to the social media team and do what they ask without complaint.”

You cut your—secret—boyfriend a harsh look that matches your no-nonsense tone. He holds your look for all of four seconds before giving in, returning to his glower to the garment in his hand instead. It’s smart of him, choosing not to start with you while you’re in Media Training mode, not secret girlfriend mode where you shoot him teasing grins and cheeky glances behind everyone’s backs.

“Give it here, old man,” Dorian Havilliard says, swiping the coat from him. You cringe, offering Azriel an apologetic smile that looks more like a grimace when his hazel gaze swings wildly to meet yours. As if you can do something about the driver tasing him. Azriel looks like he’s about two seconds from trying to lay Dorian—Ferrari’s newest recruit—out flat.

“I’m not even that old,” Azriel mutters, giving up before the arguing can even begin. The drivers haven’t started off on a good foot, Azriel upset about the realization that he’s getting older in this sport, and the looming fear that the rookie is going to replace him for his Driver 1 spot. For Dorian, he’s too naive yet to understand that he can learn a thing or two from the veteran driver. “Can I fake a stomach bug to get out of this one, ba—(Y/N)?” Azriel stutters, quickly catching his mistake.

Your eyes widen, but thankfully, Dorian doesn’t seem to notice, too enraptured with the design on the back of the bomber. Three dice line the back in white sequins, and instead of regular pips, the black of the dice spells out the acronym F1LVGP: Formula 1 Las Vegas Grand Prix.

It is pretty ugly, but you cannot wait to see your boyfriend in it.

Both drivers are set to shoot media in the very jackets that fans received with their purchase of tickets months ago. It’s going to be as gimmicky and cheesy as Azriel thinks it’s going to be, which is why you refrained from mentioning this specific part of the media tour to him this weekend.

“The fans are going to want to see you both in that jacket,” you explain, biting your lip at Dorian, who has zipped it up to his collarbones. It does look horrid, and there’s a part of you that wishes you could warn the social team about Azriel’s reluctant attitude. Hopefully, they don’t give him any props that might make him look even sillier. “It’s good for the team and the race. Plus, interaction gets us all paid, boys.”

Your phone pings with another important message, a call-in meeting with the Ferrari Public Relations team managers to develop key messages that align with the brand values, sponsor commitments, and team ethos.

With the two stubborn-minded drivers on your team, that part might prove to be difficult.

After that it’s crisis meetings with said drivers, training both Dorian and Azriel on how to efficiently deflect the potential damaging and sensitive questions about what happened in Brazil two weeks ago. Azriel is used to it, and as much as he hates the interview portion of his job, is trained well in answering these types of questions with tact and confidence.

Dorian, on the other hand, is still young and new to the team. The interviewers will no doubt single him out, sniffing out his fresh blood because he’s more likely to make a mistake. You already know that he’s a touch hot-headed when it comes to the obvious rift between the two Ferrari drivers, and if the interviewers pose a question that gives him room to get a word in about Azriel, you have no doubt that he’ll take it, even without realizing exactly how it could impact the team image.

You’re going to make sure that that doesn’t happen.

The rest of the weekend is planned out down to the minute. You’re not even sure you have a single free second to spend with Azriel.

Las Vegas is always exhausting.

“Hey, boss? When do we have some down time this weekend?” Dorian asks, as if he’s somehow reading your mind. You’re dreading this, having to tell a freshly turned twenty-one-year-old in Las Vegas for the first time that he’s not going to be able to go buck-wild. He’ll have to save that for a bye-week or a break. You’re here for business and racing this weekend, not strip-shows and high-hollers tables.

And while he may have an appearance at Omnia night club post-race on Sunday, you’ve tasked yourself with keeping an eye on the rookie, this weekend more so than during the rest of the races this season.

“Unlikely, Havilliard,” you answer, finally looking up from the calendar on your phone. He should really know by now how this all works—it’s race 22 for Mother’s sake—that everything is all work and no play until after the race, but as it’s Dorian’s first year in the big leagues, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It’s been years since you worked with a rookie. You’ve been on Ferrari’s team for a while now, working with Azriel and veteran driver Rowan Whitethorn who accepted an offer from McLaren at the end of last season. It had been bliss, the both of them the most unproblematic drivers on the grid, letting their racing do the talking for them.

But it had been more difficult to get them to talk than you thought. The pair hadn’t been as personable to the world because of their stoic behavior, but when you were hired on, you whipped them into tip-top shape, both drivers the perfect media trained racers within all of Formula 1.

“We’re here for work. You’ll have some time after practice and the race, but Saturday night you’re not to be spotted in any clubs or casinos too late,” you explain, shoving your phone into your back pocket to give him your full attention when you say this. You watch your words settle within Dorian, his shoulders falling more and more as you continue. “You’re not to go overboard. That means no drinking, no gambling, no—”

“Fun?”

You sigh at his disheartened look. Maybe it would be alright if he spent some time with some of the veteran drivers, maneuvering Las Vegas along with them. He’ll find that he can still find fun in moderation. Too bad you know Azriel will cut that idea off at the neck.

“I know it sounds boring, Dorian,” you try easily, giving the young driver a sympathetic look. “It’s your first time in Las Vegas and that’s very exciting, but you really need to think hard about what you’re doing here because there are temptations, but there are so many cameras and eyes on you. If you can handle how things might be construed, you don’t have my blessing, but I can’t force you to sit in your hotel all weekend.”

Something sparks in those deep blue eyes at your hidden message. You’ve warned him and you’re not flat-out telling him that you’ll look the other way, that you’ll clean up a mess for him if he makes it, but he should get to live a little, at least.

You know that he’s unlikely to listen to you anyway, friends with a lot of the other young drivers who are just as excited to be in Las Vegas as Dorian is; Ruhn Danaan, Ithan Holstrom, and Tharion Ketos to name a few, with veteran driver Cassian Bailey taking them all under their wing.

That tiny detail means that you’re going to have your work cut out for you this season.

“You got it, boss,” Dorian salutes, shooting you the most innocent look he can muster.

Behind him, Azriel rolls his eyes, and you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter, “Kiss ass,” under his breath, which both you and Dorian effectively ignore.

You’re proud, he’s already learning.

“Alright, Dorian. You’re up first for bomber jacket media, I have something to talk about with Azriel, but we’ll be down soon. You know where you’re going?” You ask, even though his security detail is awaiting him in the hall outside of the suite.

“Of course,” Dorian nods, passing you with his phone already out in his hand. You give him all of three seconds before he begins posting Instagram stories about the hotel. “Thank you for everything, (Y/N).”

“My pleasure,” you answer, waiting until the door shuts behind him before spinning towards your boyfriend and pinning him with a stern look. “You need to stop being so negative, Az. Dorian is on your team and he’s here to stay, at least for the next two seasons until your contract ends. If you want Ferrari to keep you, the both of you will have to start getting along sooner rather than later, and Dorian is a sweetheart.”

“Not you too,” Azriel groans. “Come on, babe, no one can be that charming.”

You hum, stepping into your boyfriend’s warm body. If this is all the time you’re allowed this weekend, you’re going to take advantage of it. Azriel’s hands find your hips easily, a firm, comforting weight against your skin. “I seem to remember someone else that was quite charming when we met,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss that makes your heart race faster than the speed of his car.

“I was pretty charming, wasn’t I?” Azriel grins, waggling his eyebrows, and you love looking at him like this, happy, when his eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile, the slight dimple in his cheek deepening. He’s so handsome. “Want to go down to the Little White Chapel later and make this official?” Azriel teases and your heart fucking soars, even if he is only poking fun.

Someday the man in your arms won’t be a secret anymore. You’ll be able to flaunt him all over the world, build a life with him, love him not just in the shadows.

“Without a ring?” You joke right back, pinching his side. “I don’t think so, Az.”

“Baby, I’ll get you the biggest ring I can find,” Azriel’s words are husky, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he dips his chin. “I’ll give you the whole damn world, (Y/N). I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, and begin rethinking your refusal to marry him on the strip in Las Vegas without a ring. You’ll take him now, hell, you’ll even marry him in the sequined bomber jacket, you don’t care.

You just want to be his, not in secret anymore.

_________________________________________

Tagging people from the last F1 fic. If you don't want to be tagged just lmk 🥰

@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass @moosemahboi @devilsfoodcake22 @blackthorngirl @brieflyclassymortal @starsdoulikedem @cami26cami @justasillylittlegoofyguy @milswrites @navyblue-eternity @kennedy-brooke @mimsie95 @shadowsingersmate24 @piceous21 @skyjasper @soulessjourney @despoinasstuff @weasleyreidstyles @marrass @favfantasyreads @fairywriter-oracle @georgiastars13 @blueblondi @namelesssav @tothestarsandwhateverend @brekkershadowsinger

[chosai]

ROUGH DAY AT WORK ? LET ME HELP YOU ! — ZAYNE (黎深)

warning: this drabble contains smut (18+ content). minors do not interact!

© chosai — do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

your husband, zayne, isn't the most vocal when it comes to his emotions – if you don't, thoroughly, read him between the lines, it definitely would be a struggle for anyone since this man would not budge, keeping his mouth shut. undoubtedly, you worry for him; he works long hours – nearly sixty hours per week, nights and days, yet he refuses to catch a break. one thing's for certain, he's quite the stubborn workaholic.

you're busy cooking dinner; your nimble hands working on the meat and vegetables while you hum your favourite tune. you glance at the time on the microwave behind you, and you immediately quicken the pace on your chopping. in twenty minutes or so, you expect the front door to open; revealing your beloved husband outside the door – the next course of action being you spoiling him with food. after all, upon returning from a long shift at work, it's important to eat a filling meal.

"he's going to love this," you hum to yourself, sautéing the meat and vegetables together in the pan in contentment. the rice is finished cooking, and the main dish is nearly ready. your stomach is grumbling like crazy at the delicious scent. for the first time in a long time, you feel proud at yourself for cooking such an appetizing dish. you take a small lick from the spoon, and you close your eyes shut and squealed. best bet for the next couple of weeks, you'll be cooking this for dinner.

the door opens suddenly, and steps in your husband clad in his usual dress shirt paired with his trousers. you take a peek from the kitchen, and you excitement took over you.

“welcome home, honey!” you greet zayne warmly, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. once you pull away, you manage to fully inspect your husband’s face; there’s fatigue evident in his hazel eyes and from the way his lips are pressed in a straight line, he doesn’t look too pleased. you rest your hand against his broad chest, leaning closer to him.

“what’s the matter my love? you look tired and upset.” you question him, caressing your hand against his cheek. “i also finished making dinner, we can talk more while we eat dinner if you want!”

before you’re able to pull away, his strong hands stop you; gripping at your waist as he pulls you closer. his thumb rubbing light circles against the thin fabric of your shirt; his face nuzzling into the comfort of your neck.

“i want to stay close to you like this,” he breathes, his voice slightly muffled. you rest your head against his chest.

“work’s been rougher than usual,” he then adds, and he breathes in your scent. “ah, but just touching you makes me feel better.”

“you’re so cute, zayne.” you coo, before leaning in closer to his face. you press a soft peck against his lips, giggling softly. however, you’re caught off guard when he leans in for a second kiss — this time, though, is plenty more heated; while his one hand rested on your hips, his other hand rests on the back of your head to pull you closer. soft, muffled moans fall past your lips, your legs trembling as your arousal steadily grows. a thin string of saliva connects both your lips as you pull away; soft pants leaves your lips as you stare at each other in arduous desperation.

“z-zayne,” you mutter his name bashfully, completely dazed from his overhasty movements. it isn’t as if you minded, though. through your heavy lidded gaze, you can also make out the delectable sight of your husband sharing the same need as you; his mouth slightly agape, his ears slightly flushed a bright incarnadine, and his bedroom eyes — dinner will have to wait. in this moment, you yearn to spoil him by other means.

through heavy and heated kisses, you both find yourselves on the comfort of the sofa; your hips straddling his lap as your lips immediately finds his neck, trailing a line of kisses down the soft skin. his large hands finds its way to your ass, giving the plush a tight squeeze as he grinds you against his aching erection. you moan against his neck, feeling your body twitch beneath his grasp.

aroused is truly an understatement.

“h-honey,” you say in between shaky breaths, “i wanna spoil you today.”

zayne’s hands then travel up your shirt, removing the soft fabric with ease; the cool air immediately hits your skin, and you shiver slightly. your husband licks his lips, savouring the sight of your pretty breasts before him.

without passing another second, your husband latches his mouth onto your soft mound. “you already are, my love.” says your husband, his voice muffled as he twirls his tongue against the hardened bud.

your body shrivels underneath his touch, yearning to get closer to him. soft moans of his name falls from your lips as your hands travel down to his trousers, unbuckling his exorbitant belt and quickly unzipping his trousers which then reveals his grey boxers with a moist spot at the tip.

fuck, you can feel your mouth watering at the sight. just how long has it been since you last had a taste of his dick? with gentle fingers threading through your husband’s raven locks, you pull him away from your breasts — and you squeeze your legs even tightly; he looks so drunk in your touch, his gaze clouded in desire. before zayne can process anything further, he immediately finds you perched in between his legs; your hands going straight in for the hem of his trousers and boxers, attempting to pull them down in one go as if you’re famished.

his erect girth springs out of his boxers and nearly smacks your face. you smile, tracing a finger along his twitching length. enamored, you lick a strip along his cock — not breaking eye contact with your now flustered husband.

“you had a rough day at work, no?” with languid strokes, you ask the question with feigned innocence, leaning your head against his herculean thighs. “let me help you~”

that being said, you take him all the way in your mouth; relishing the way zayne’s breath hitched out a moan as you ignore the tiny tears that threaten to roll down your flushed cheeks. his hand that rests atop your hand trembles, his fingers softly digging into your scalp as he thrusts his hips higher — urging you to take him deeper. you bite back a gag as you try your damnedest to breathe through your nose.

“hah, fuck.” your husband hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back as a hoarse groan falls from his lip, and you moan softly in response albeit his girthy cock is still inches down your throat. “you’re taking me so good, m’love.”

you hum in response through your blurred gaze, your cheeks coated in tears as you continue to please him; one hand resting at his hips, while the other trails south, the tip of your fingers circling around your swollen clit. you can’t help it. given how alluring your husband can be, it is nearly impossible to not pounce on him. your subtle self-pleasure doesn’t go unnoticed by zayne, however.

his hands find stability in your scalp once again, and he holds on to it tight before he begins to thrust into your mouth frantically. the sleek noises of your mouth making love to his dick resonates athwart the living room, paired with some occasional choking from the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat — but zayne loves every single noise that leaves your mouth, even more the lewd expressions plastered across your face as you’re eager to please him.

“fuck, y/n. your mouth feels so fucking good around me. you’re such a good girl for spoiling me — hah. you’re going to make me cum soon.” a string of breathy praises leaves his lips, the pace of his hips thrusting relentlessly begins to stagger the closer he gets to his release.

you pull back slightly and suck on his tip, circling your tongue around the little hole. you stare at your husband, your eyes blown back in lust. from zayne’s point of view, you’re practically staring at him with hearts formed in your eyes. his eye twitches and a hoarse groan slips past his lips, his hands gripping onto your scalp firmly yet softly as he spurts his seed into your mouth.

as you draw back from his cock, you open your mouth — revealing the large amounts of his cum resting on your tongue before swallowing it all. zayne caresses your face gently with his long fingers, giving you praises for taking him so well with your mouth.

“did… did that help?” you ask him cutely, your shoulders rising and dropping as you attempt to catch your breath.

“yes,” zayne says, his hands slowly snaking around your hips. “however…”

a sharp gasp rips from your throat as your husband effortlessly positioned you onto the couch, your ass now facing his hardened cock. you stare back at the erect girth in shock — a minute hasn’t even passed and he’s already..? all thoughts that linger in your head dissipates the moment you feel his long and thick fingers tracing along the lines of your drenched folds; such minimal movements of his index finger elicits the lewdest noises coming from your heat. he savours the sight of you; your flushed face looking back at him as your ass is high up in the air for him to see the arousal drooling from your cunt.

“my wife is so so beautiful,” zayne comments sweetly before sticking two fingers inside, your slick walls immediately welcoming his digits in a tight embrace. you arch your back, raising your ass higher as you beg for more friction. you can never grow tired of the feeling of being filled. he pulls his fingers out and licks your love juices.

“i hope you don’t mind, but i’m still not done with you spoiling me.” says zayne, pressing a kiss on the back of your head as he aligns the tip of his cock to your sopping entrance. “you can still take me. right, honey?”

you nod your head frantically, trying to push your hips back to meet his. “mmm, fuck. please, baby. i wan’ you to fuck me so bad—”

a loud moan rips from your throat when his cock slides easily inside your folds, the tip already kissing your cervix. you arch your back and curl your toes, and your face is stuffed into the soft cushions of the couch — completely submitting into being used as a cock sleeve for your husband, who in turn, is fucking into your hole like a madman. he stuffs his face into the nape of your neck, his breaths heavy as he ruts his hips into yours.

“ah! mmm — shit, you’re fucking me so good.” you mewl a praise, though your voice is muffled from the pillow you stuffed your face in as he only fucks you with a newfound vigour; his nails digging into your hips, his groans vibrating against your skin merely adds more fuel to the fire — your release slowly reaching its peak.

the more he fucks into you, the more your body trembles beneath his touch. with each thrust he made, a moan rips from your throat as he makes it his sole mission to get you to come hard. especially in a position such as this, each thrust of his hips lands a hit on your sweet spot; your walls squeezing tightly onto his girth as he did.

he grabs both your hands and holds them behind your back with his one hand, raising your body higher from the cushions.

“don’t hide your moans from me,” he demands, thrusting his hips into yours deeply. you cry out in response, your body twitching against his as you’re nearing your orgasm.

“i-i’m coming,” you announce, your voice tottering as the pressure in your abdomen erupts and your body trembles. zayne lets out a low moan, closing his eyes tightly to relish the sensations of your walls clamping tightly around him, attempting to milk him dry of his cum.

heavy breaths filled the warm air surrounding your living room; small beads of sweat rolling down your bodies as you both try to catch your breaths.

“thank you, my love. you always treat your husband so well.” zayne says sweetly, peppering kisses all over your face and you giggle softly. though, you’re a little muddled when he starts to get up from the couch; his hand reaching out towards the piles of clothes scattered across the floor. “let’s go shower before we eat dinner.”

you reach out for his hand, and he looks back at you with a questioning look. excitement flickers in your eyes, the thrill overtaking your veins suddenly controls your consciousness. you lay back down on the couch, giving your husband the most seductive look you can muster and spread your lips. his gaze follows your hands, and he gulps softly; his eyes locked onto your swollen and dripping cunt.

“you didn’t cum again,” you say, your voice soft yet there is mischief laced in it. “i don’t mind if we go another round.”

sora's note: 😳

[shadowdaddies]

I have another request! Your writing is just amazing.

Would love an Az x reader where she knows they are mates but doesn’t tell him because she can’t have kids and she thinks he will reject it if he finds out. So she starts pulling away or gets upset or something and then the bond snaps for him and he is confused as to why she doesn’t want it.

She finally tells him and thinks he will reject her because of it but it goes from angst to fluff and he’s all cute and says she is all he wants and he doesn’t care. Happy ending

thank you so much lovely! I love your requests, I think they're perfect for Az

All I've Ever Needed

Azriel x Reader

Leaned over the balcony, you swirled the champagne in your glass as the stars began to shoot across the sky, bathing Velaris in ethereal light. The quiet scuff of boots sounded next to you, a smile gracing your lips as you thought about the only person who would wear boots to Starfall.

Glancing up, you were met with hazel eyes, golden in this light as they focused on you. “You’re missing the show,” you nodded to the skyline in front of you.

“Am I?” Azriel murmured, so quiet you hardly heard him. Still, his gaze turned towards the sky, a comfortable silence wrapping around the pair of you like a warm blanket on this cold early Spring evening.

Azriel turned back towards you, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak when a rogue spirit soared towards him, glowing pale green light splattering throughout his onyx hair. Your laugh echoed loudly through the open night air, bringing a rare, broad smile to Azriel’s lips. His face lit up brighter than the stars that glowed like a halo around him, and the snap in your chest as the universe pulled you towards him was undeniable.

Breathless, you clutched your chest as emotions swirled within you. Mate, my mate, your heart chanted, as Azriel’s hand began to reach for yours. A high-pitched giggle sounded from below, interrupting the moment as little Nyx ran towards you.

“Uncle Azzy!” the toddler squealed in delight, laughter ringing through the air as Azriel lifted his nephew into his broad arms. “You have stars in your hair,” the small boy noted, chubby fingers reaching to tug on Azriel’s wavy tresses. 

Azriel shook his head, Nyx laughing as stardust sprinkled all around the both of them. “There, now you have stars too,” Az murmured, setting Nyx back down for the child to run into Feyre’s arms. 

“Happy Starfall,” she greeted you with a kiss to your cheek before turning to Azriel, a soft laugh leaving the High Lady as Nyx eagerly reached back for Azriel once more. “You are so good with him,” Feyre noted to Az, grinning at the shadowsinger’s blush from her compliment. “I can’t wait to see you with children of your own one day.”

The perfect bubble of this evening burst. Heart dropping, the skies of Velaris now a shattered snow globe as you registered Feyre’s words. Neither she or Azriel knew what you’d learned long ago from Madja, that you would never be able to bear children. 

And now, as you watched Azriel’s blush deepen, your mate smiling while he played with his nephew, you realized how cruel the Cauldron must be for your mate to be someone you could never satisfy. Setting down your flute of champagne, you excused yourself as you abandoned not only the party, but any chance you’d hoped for with Azriel.

Months passed as you ignored the shadowsinger, ignored the way your heart called to him, how much you missed his kindness and friendship. Being the understanding person that he was, Azriel didn’t push you, didn’t try to force you when he noticed you distancing yourself. It somehow hurt more, knowing that the person who understood you most was still there, giving you the space you needed despite how much you wanted to run into his arms. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, tell him how much you loved him, trap him by telling that you were his mate when you could never give him the children he evidently wanted.

Walking down the streets of the Rainbow, Mor pressured you about Azriel’s birthday. “I know you two aren’t as close, and I won’t push about it, but you are going to his birthday tonight aren’t you?” 

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you deliberated the question you’d been asking yourself for the past several weeks. “Of course I’ll go, Mor. We are still friends,” you promised, knowing that as much as you might dread this evening, missing Azriel’s birthday would cause too many issues among your family.

Mor left you alone, headed to meet Feyre at the art studio. You walked down the street, looking in the windows of art galleries and clothiers when something pulled you towards a small jewelry shop. You heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed the silver ring in the window, a small cobalt blue gem in the center. 

You opened the door without thinking, your feet guiding you to where the jewelry sat in its display. The shopkeeper approached you, her kind green eyes twinkling as she looked between you and the ring.

“That is a beautiful piece. I’ve seen several males pass by admiring it. And we can do same-day engraving,” she spoke, her velvet voice thinly veiling her eagerness to make the sale. 

As the idea came to you, you flashed her a smile. “I’ll take it.”

Hands shaking with nerves, you shyly maneuvered through the doorway to the River House, gift in hand as you made your way to the living room where your family was gathered. Mor approached you first, blonde hair flying as she ran towards you to wrap you in a hug. Handing you a drink, she looped her arm in yours, guiding you to the center of the room where you set the gift on the table.

Hazel eyes bored into you, Azriel staring unabashedly as he approached. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, a lump in his throat as he looked over the gauzy lavender dress you donned. “You look beautiful.”

Blushing under his attention, you willed your heart to stop pounding against your chest as you spoke. “Of course. Happy birthday, Azriel,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning to greet the others.

Near the end of the evening, everyone was enjoying the beautiful cake Elain had prepared when Mor giddily clapped her hands. “Presents, now!” she demanded, shoving her own gift into Azriel’s hands. Azriel unwrapped the present, pink paper torn apart to reveal a pair of green, fuzzy earmuffs. “They’re to match the scarf I got you last Solstice!” Mor exclaimed, clearly proud of herself for such a thoughtful gift.

Azriel gave her a polite smile and a thank you, moving to unwrap the next gifts. From Cassian and Nesta, a new pair of boots, since apparently once of the Valkyries had thrown up on his other pair during training last week. From Feyre and Rhys, he was given a painting - a memory of the annual snowball fight from the last year, with Nyx included. 

“Who is this from?” Azriel asked, holding up the small box with blue paper and black ribbon. You shyly raised your hand, a nervous smile on your face as Azriel’s eyes softened. “Thank you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. 

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” you retorted with a giggle. Azriel’s eyes sparkled at your laughter, his hands deftly untying the ribbon as he carefully opened the box. He simply stared at it for a moment, silver lining his eyes as he held the box in his hands.

“I know you like to wear rings, and if you look at the side, I had it engraved for you,” you explained. Azriel carefully took the ring from the box, turning it over to see the outline of Ramiel, with Carynth shining above, and Azriel, Rhysand’s, and Cassian’s initials below.

Sliding the ring on his finger, Azriel looked to you, a look of shock crossing his features as he stumbled back, knocking his chair backwards in the process. You forgot to breathe for a moment, the only thought your brain able to process that Azriel now knew that you were mates. Standing up quickly, you uttered a goodbye as you ran out the front door in escape.

You made it halfway across the lawn when shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel towering over you as he appeared, anger swirling in his eyes. “You knew.” 

You didn’t say anything, just held your chin high as you willed the tears not to fall. Azriel didn’t let up though, taking another step towards you. “How long have you known that we are mates?”

Eyes shuttering, you took a deep breath. “Since Starfall,” you eked out in a broken whisper. 

Azriel’s face contorted in hurt and anger, his own voice shaky as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me? All of this time avoiding me, why wouldn’t you tell me that you didn’t want me?”

Something between a shocked laugh and a choking sound forced its way from your throat as you gaped at him. “Don’t want you? Azriel, all I want is you! It’s been agony trying to stay away, to keep the bond from snapping and trapping you with me. You deserve better, Az. You deserve more than I can give to you.”

Trying to step around him to walk away, Azriel swiftly slid into your path, the ring on his finger cool against your cheek as he guided your gaze to his. “How could you ever think that you wouldn’t deserve me? If anything, I don’t deserve you. You are kind, beautiful, thoughtful... You’re more than I could have dreamed of.”

You allowed yourself to lean into his touch for only a moment before you softly pulled his hand away from your face. You drew his hand up, clutching it in your own, savoring the warmth of his touch. “Azriel, I can’t have children. Madja told me years ago, it’s just not possible for me. And seeing you on Starfall with Nyx, you were so happy. And I cannot give you that. I cannot give you everything you want, can’t give you a family.”

Azriel’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling you into him, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Holding your chin between his fingers, he tilted your gaze to him. “You are my family. You are everything I could ever want, and more.” His lips brushed yours, the feeling of his smile against your own sending a burst of joy through you as you leaned up to kiss your mate.

[livwritesstuff]

i hit 100 followers while i was asleep (absolutely bananas imo but i’m so thrilled y’all are enjoying my steddie dads verse bc i’ve literally never had so much fun writing before) so here's a sneak peek of a wip featuring the Harrington fam

Eddie does not understand sports. 

He may be approaching fifty years old and way past his old ways of rejecting every notion that doesn’t perfectly align with his own interests, but even after all these years, the wires in his brain simply cannot wrap themselves around sports no matter how hard he tries.

And he does try because, naturally, he has three daughters, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel, all of whom play sports.

To be clear – his kids can do literally anything they want, bar none.

He’s still in goddamn awe with the whole arrangement that is the life he lives every day – kids and a house and a job he loves and all that with Steve Harrington of all people. There’s no way Eddie would start fucking all that up by projecting his own weird quirks onto his children. He refuses to be the kind of parent that prevents their kids from doing anything just because they don't get it. If the girls want to play sports, they’re gonna play sports. Nothing wrong with that.

Still, sports are one of those things he takes the back seat and lets Steve hold the reins for, especially now that thirteen-year-old Moe is pretty deep into the whole basketball thing. 

Steve understands the politics of the game, both on the court — like knowing which refs are gonna be biased towards which team and noting Moe’s play-time each game — and off. He schmoozes the coach, he’s friends with all the parents, all the things Moe, at thirteen, doesn’t even notice and Eddie, while aware of it, doesn’t understand. He still can barely follow the games themselves (and he goes to as many as he can, though he and Steve are outnumbered by one and with the prospect of the girls carting themselves around still a distant fantasy their schedule is insane so he can’t make them all). He does his best to follow his husband’s lead but Steve doesn’t always react to things the way Eddie thinks he will. He doesn’t bat an eye when a kid gets smacked in the face with a ball, nor at the impossibly loud thud when someone hits the deck (look — he gets the floor is hollow, but it is loud). He’s completely unbothered by the fit Moe throws every game whenever she’s inevitably benched for having an attitude with her opponents or her teammates or the coach or the ref or just about anybody who tries to get in her way.

As is what happened at Moe’s game yesterday.

Eddie hadn’t seen it — well, he’d seen it, but seeing something and understanding what he’s actually looking at are two totally different things. From what he gathers, Moe had missed an easy shot and gotten pissed off in her own little way about it, so she’d launched herself at whoever on the opposing team had gotten their hands on the ball after it ricocheted off the backboard. Unfortunately for Moe, the team they were playing had a reputation for being a little too aggressive for a middle school league, so when she’d hit the ground, she hit it hard. Moe had been pulled off the court by her coach (carded, maybe? Eddie still isn’t sure how that works in basketball) and scowled on the bench for the rest of the game.

Steve had tried to reason with her on the drive home (an interesting choice, in Eddie’s opinion).

“Darling,” he’d said, “I totally understand being upset about missing a layup, but I don’t know how to get it through your head that intentionally fouling someone isn’t the way to go about resolving that emotion. I love you and I support you, but I’m getting tired of watching you play for three minutes and then sit on the bench for the rest of the game.”

“Talk to the coach then,” Moe had grumbled.

“About what?” Steve exclaimed, “Moe — you do it on purpose!”

The conversation had ended not long later because Moe decided to give them both the silent treatment (a clear sign that she knew she was in the wrong even if she didn’t want to admit it) and Eddie thought that was the end of it (for that game, at least). Then, Moe threw them a curveball by spending most of that evening in the bathroom throwing up, at which point she admitted that her head had caught more of that fall during her basketball game than she’d originally let on.

Steve doesn’t mess around with head injuries (for obvious reasons), so the next morning he calls Moe out of school and brings her to their pediatrician to get checked out.

A couple hours after Robbie and Hazel boarded the school bus bound for their elementary school, Steve and Moe return home.

“So what's the verdict?” Ed asks as they enter the kitchen.

“She's concussed,” Steve announces.

“Like father, like daughter.”

“No sports, no bright lights, no reading, no school, no phone,” Steve says pointedly, and Moe only scowls harder. She’d been using the incident as a leveraging tactic in her crusade to get a phone. Not being able to play sports was a no-brainer; they’d all seen that one coming, so even as recently as this morning, she’d been claiming that she’ll “die of boredom without a phone,” while she recovers.

Even as recently as this morning, she’d been largely unsuccessful.

“Thirteen-year-old children do not need phones,” Steve had told her, “If someone wants to talk to you, they can call the house, and if it's urgent enough that it needs to be right now, you can get walkie talkies.”

“No one uses walkie talkies.”

“Your dad and I used walkie talkies all the time.”

“Uh, pretty sure it was just the one time, Steve,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah! And it worked out great!”

CONTINUE ON AO3

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 7!!

July 7th <3

Neutral - @jegulus-microfic - words: 731

First part Previous part

Leg bouncing up and down, Regulus sat on the side of the bench as he waited for James to finish talking to a red haired girl.

She was pretty, really pretty, and James looked really happy. Both smiling, both talking, they looked like a couple. They could be a couple, maybe they are.

She was laughing, brushing a hand through her hair and touching his shoulder. Touching him, that’s not fair. He doesn’t have an excuse for why it’s not fair, it just isn’t.

Get off, Regulus wants to hiss like a jealous snake.

Regulus knew that the fiery haired and freckly cheeked girl went by Lily Evans, courtesy of Pandora. The only reason he was feeling sour about the two talking was because of Pandora being upset, nothing more.

Definitely nothing more, his eyes weren’t locked on James’ lips as he spoke, totally.

His lips moved animatedly, he would press them together and stretch them out into grins. He would bite down on the bottom one, turning the flesh a darker shade of pink before he let it go and blinked with her dark fluttery eyelashes.

Fuck.

-

Regulus examined the way James’ tight black t-shirt clung to his skin, slightly cropping to show a slither of dark skin on his waist as he filled up two water bottles for them at the water fountain, giving the kids a minute to chat before they started up.

“Here you go.” James grunted out as he slid a plastic bottle in front of Regulus.

“Thank you.” He nodded, smiling.

He took notice to the way James’ eyes held a certain light in them, of admiration and curiosity, he wanted to seek deeper into those hazel irises and know exactly why he’s looking at him like that.

“Are you ready to start in a minute?”

“Yeah-“ Regulus paused for a thought. “What are we doing today?”

“Climbing.” James snorted as he tucked his lips away into a smirk, Regulus groaning.

“Please don’t tell me I’ll have to climb one of those things.” Regulus pointed to a towering wooden frame peeking out from the tops of the trees. “Because I swear I would rather jump off it.” He deadpanned.

James let out a laugh, a sweet, kindred, angelic laugh that made Regulus’ heart feel like it was growing two sizes too big for his chest and rising up into his throat.

“That won’t be necessary, I like you a lot better alive and in one piece.” Still smiling, James jumped up and pulled on his elbow, Regulus’ skin warming at the touch. “Come on, I’ll do all the climbing.” He watched as Regulus stood up. “Keep your pretty face safe.”

And then he jogged off, just left. The man left with that. That’s so- Regulus let out a frustrated groan, which was more directed at the bright pink splashes on his hot cheeks.

“That stupid man.” Regulus grumbled and followed after him.

-

Regulus did try very hard to keep a neutral face as James attempted to abseil down a wall, but he failed miserably, so much so he had to cover his mouth to stifle the smile and laughs threatening to come out.

The big strong James Potter, who would normally say this was easy, was walking down ever so slowly, squeaking and yelling every few seconds.

“Go on!” A teen yelled.

“Yeah, go on you idiot.” Regulus shouted down. He was stood atop the tower, where he was required to be so he could comfort the kids, he make so ended up comforting James.

James looked up at him, his wide eyes and his shaky smile. Regulus couldn’t help but smugly smile back, the man looks like he was on the verge of tears, yet he offered Regulus a smile.

Two pairs of eyes met, full of want and wonder, twisted with the unknown and sharp silence.

That’s when Regulus decided, a bit of light teasing couldn’t hurt. He gave a wink, short and quick but enough.

Slipping with a yell, Regulus watched as James slowly went sliding to the floor, only just balancing himself back onto the wall. “That was mean!” He hollered up.

Regulus let his facade break, bursting out into laughter as he bit his lip to stop it. The corners of his mouth high and his eyes brighter than ever before, even brighter than his star some may say.

Next part

[soodoonimin]

I just want a fic where in Wade’s timeline Morph and 10005-Logan were dating until he disappeared one day. And while Worst Wolverine and Wade are out on a date or in public together very obviously being a couple, Morph sees them and thinks 10005-Logan is betraying them so they confront Wolvie about it and Wade is VERY CONFUSED bc this Wolverine has only been there for a short amount of time (and he definitely hasn’t been talking to any xmen) so how the hell did he get a side piece already??? And Worst Wolverine is also confused bc he didn’t have a Morph in his timeline so who the hell is this????

And poor Morph doesn’t realize this isn’t their Logan until they look in his eyes and see that they’re hazel and not blue. So they just leave bc they’re embarrassed and still kind of heart broken because their Logan is gone and they thought they saw him (and would have pretended he wasn’t cheating if this was their Logan bc they missed him so much).

Worst Wolverine and Wade are at odds on what to do about this. Bc Wade wants to go talk to Morph to figure out what the fuck just happened but Worst Wolverine just wants to forget about it. (He grumbles something about love triangles never working out for anyone and it’s best to just leave well enough alone.)

Wade totally didn’t hear him so he goes to the x-mansion and tries to explain everything to Morph and they listen for the most part but really they just don’t care bc their Logan is gone and they’re scared they’ll never see him again.

So Wade offers for him and Worst Wolverine to go looking for their Logan and they accept but actually they’re coming too.

This would all culminate with them being unable to find 10005-Logan and Morph being very upset about it and Wolvie actually sorta realizing how 10005-Logan might have fallen in love with Morph but he still loves Wade so he does what he does best and shoves it down. But thankfully Wade is a little bit more emotionally intelligent and sits them all down to talk this out.

Morph is hesitant at first bc they don’t want to feel like they’re replacing their Logan and Worst Wolverine says something like “We can take it slow…whatever you want.” And that reminds them so much of their Logan that they decided that maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Idk if yall can tell but I watch X-men 97 and idk if anyone else feels this way but I NEED Logan to be in a loving poly relationship with Wade and Morph.

[thunderstomm]

Sharing one of the many hypothetical directions I think season 2 of A New Wish could go in, in regards to rekindling Dev and Hazel’s friendship!!

There is a lot of potential in Hazel’s friends knowing about fairies, but I also think that this could very easily become overwhelming, especially for someone like Hazel, who tends to overthink and internalise a lot of things. Perhaps Antony, Winn and Jasmine start to ask Hazel to make wishes for them. It starts small, a little thing here and there, and it’s a non-issue. They’re her friends, she cares about them and wants to help them in every way she can ! It’s common sense! But slowly, this becomes very overwhelming to her. It’s almost exhausting, having all of her friends knowing about magic, and knowing at any moment, they could swarm you for wishes. Hazel knows they’re well meaning, they don’t have any malicious intent whatsoever, and she wants them to be happy, but it’s come to a point where she is barely making any wishes for herself anymore. Cosmo and Wanda (and maybe Peri?) are more than happy to grant the influx of wishes, but they are aware of the toll it’s taking on Hazel. They even encourage her to say something, but she insists to keep going- her school and home life are now a part of her magic life, and it seems wrong to let them know about magic, and not reap some of the benefit. But she’s also tired. She wants a bit of escape, one part of her life where magic doesn’t matter, and she can have a normal thing. And this is the push to befriend Dev again. Their friendship has been up in the air since the finale, but with his memories of magic gone, maybe he’ll be more receptive to being friends again.

So Hazel and Dev become friends again, and it’s oddly comforting to her.

It’s almost an inverse of what their connection was in s1. Dev was once the only person who she could share the secrets of magic with, and now he’s the person she goes to in order to escape it. She’s happy to have their friendship back again. There is undeniable guilt regarding hiding his past actions from him, but then again, part of that is why she’s here. If Dev didn’t have his memories of fairies, she wouldn’t have chosen to seek him out.

Hazel’s friends and brother finding out is a natural progression. They’d probably be upset, and Hazel is in another hard place, having to explain a very complicated situation and her general feelings. Her friends are upset, she wants to spend time with the kid who took over fairy world, instead of them? Does she regret making her wish? Meanwhile Hazel has been bottling up her feelings, instead of actually sitting down and setting boundaries with them. (They would eventually make up, I’m sure the show would not make this choice just to tear even more people away from Hazel ): )

You could even have a sub-plot in this friendship rekindling, involving Dev ! Perhaps his father is still working on Project H, and needing more information on Hazel, he asks that Dev pretend to be Hazel’s friend, in order to figure out why she isn’t buying anything, and he comes to the conclusion he doesn’t want to betray Hazel like that, when they spend more time together. Perhaps Dev DOES still have his memories, or he gets them back? There’s the sunglasses theory, but it’s also important to note that you can regain your memories of fairy world if you are reminded of what exactly it is you’ve forgotten. Perhaps Dev catches another glance at the Project H board, still covered in scribbles, and it all comes back to him, so becoming friends with Hazel again is a way for him to both rebuild their bond and trust, but also to protect her from whatever it is his father has planned. In any of these scenarios, it somewhat balances the playing field for Hazel and Dev, with them both hiding secrets from the other, but having them go unsaid out of fear that the friendship will be ruined again. The reveal of both parties’ secrets has the potential to be amazing, and they could draw a contrast with Operation: Birthday Takeback by having them make up, and their bond is made stronger by it. They can fix this issue together!

Reminder that this is all speculation and hypotheticals ! (:

[coalswriting]

you missed my heart - natalie scatorccio

summary – natalie almost kills the love of her life in a moment of fear (approx. 2.4k words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

it was a lazy november day when natalie scatorccio confessed her love to you.

you sat in the cafeteria with her during lunch and she was visibly shaken up; an argument with her father, probably. she looked so tired, and you wished you could help her.

“you should go to the guidance counsellor about your parents, nat”, you had offered her, trying to exude as much hope as you could. but, natalie shook her head. she looked at you with her big sad hazel eyes. the eyebags that hid under them were heavy and practically screamed want - a want for happiness, a want for a restful sleep.

“it’s not that easy, (y/n)”, is all she said, voice barely a meek whisper.  

“you need to try, nat. i’m sure they can do something,” she shook her head as you talked, but you kept suggesting, “get you away from them, call the police, anything.”

“i can’t because if i leave, my dad will kill me, and if he doesn’t kill me, he’ll kill my mom.”

her voice was firm, and you could hear annoyance welling up through her throat.

 “then what can i do for you?”

“nothing,” she sighed, simply yet firmly. “i just can’t deal with this right now, i can’t deal with you right now.”

her eyebrows were pressed together, an annoyed knot between them. you felt offended, almost, but you also felt irritated towards your friend for being upset at you.

“i want to protect you”, you murmured after some time, and it seemed like something flicked in natalie.

“you can’t protect me, i can’t even protect me!”, she growled in annoyance, “ugh, just fuck off!”

and, then natalie scatorccio stormed off.  

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you didn’t see her for the remainder of the school day. with every passing period, the knot in your stomach grew tighter and bigger and you were shaking by the time you came to soccer practice. you didn’t see her anywhere in the changing room, maybe she was already on the field warming up?

tying the laces of your cleats too tight, you wearily stood up off the bench and walked towards the exit of the locker room. your limbs felt heavy as they swung haphazardly by your side. lottie gave you a concerned look; one that told you she cared for you without expressing it. you smiled weakly at her, undertones of anxiety prominent on your face.

as the team lined up for their pre-practice announcements, jackie began to walk past everybody, taking count of who was around. then, she stopped in front of you, arms held behind her back in confidence. “(l/n), where’s scatorccio?”

you looked into her eyes with your own weary orbs and for a moment, her hardened exterior softened. “i… don’t know.”

the field went silent for a moment as thoughts whirred in jackie’s head, and before she could speak, somebody else did.

“she’s probably sucking a dick or doing drugs in a ditch!”, a haughty voice taunted a few spaces away from you. your head turned in slow motion as you met the eyes of the brawny girl. then, your vision went red.

“the fuck did you say?!”, you growled, storming over to her and grabbing a fistful of her jersey. she looked ready to recoil, but jackie put a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

“steady, (y/n)! and you,” she pointed at the girl, “have some respect for your teammates!”

your eyes panned around the team noticing everybody’s hesitant silence and the girl smirked at you, watching you from her power high.

“fuck”, you seethed under your voice, “this. fuck all of you. get over yourselves.”

and then you stormed away from the field, increasing the distance between you and your teammates. only coach ben and misty called after you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the trek to natalie’s house was definitely a long one. it had been about an hour now, and you felt yourself shiver in your black hoodie. you were ill prepared for this walk, but then again, you didn’t expect to find yourself going to your best friend’s house at half past six in the evening when you woke up this morning. you felt worry well up in your heart as the sun slowly hid under the distant horizon and the temperatures dropped further. yet still, you continued to strut briskly.

once you arrived in the trailer park, you beelined towards your friend’s dwelling. you felt like a stranger in this section of town, prying eyes watching you through windows and cracks in the door. an elderly woman sat in a chair, failing to light her cigarette, cursing.

you eventually arrived at the door of the beaten-up trailer, hesitating for a moment. if natalie was in here, she probably didn’t want to see you – or more like, she probably didn’t want to see you here, in the most dangerous area in her life. but still, you puffed your chest up, and with a newfound confidence fuelled by concern, you knocked. once, twice, three times.

and then, the door was ripped open. a gruff, tired man stared at you. he reeked of alcohol and his face contorted into a vile mix of annoyance and hatred. “who the fuck are you? what do you want?”, he asked demandingly, almost spitting on you.

“i’m looking for natalie, is she here?”, you worriedly asked, suddenly losing all the confidence you had previously manifested.

he sighed and groaned, “that little whore is gone. she’s not fucking welcome here anymore. leave before i shoot your brains out, now!”

and then, he slammed the door in your face. the wind from the recoil blew your hair back a little, and you felt your legs grow wobbly from fear. you turned on your foot and walked around the corner to not be seen by him again. ‘where would natalie be,’ your brain wandered as you pondered hard about the whereabouts of your friend.

suddenly, you remembered the junkyard. it wasn’t far from here and you remember smoking there with natalie, van and travis. you began to walk there, but only a few steps into your journey, it began lashing rain. you grumbled, pulling your hood over your head, tucking your hair into it so it wouldn’t get wet. for your own good, you hoped she was there, because you really didn’t want to deal with a cold.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie scatorccio leaned against a rusted car, swinging the pistol she stole from her father the night prior. she was so irritated, and decided to hang around the quietest place she knew of in order to recollect herself.

you wouldn’t understand her, ever. she couldn’t get help. her father would kill her if she tried, and her mother definitely wouldn’t save her. she had previous countless injuries to prove as such, and she grimaced from remembering the fear and pain she would feel for days after, threading lightly around her parents as she slipped out to go to school every morning. she remembered the threats her father gave and the worried looks her mother concealed.

the one time her mother had tried to protect natalie from her beast of a father, she had ended up beaten severely. natalie had to beg him to stop, and for a moment, she genuinely thought her mother was dead; all she ever did now is stare blankly at the tv, sleep, and drink. it’s like she was a puppet, just bending to her husband’s will.

natalie’s heart clenched, thinking about how she had lost her mother, and now she was losing you. she looked up towards the sky, feeling droplets against her face. she couldn’t tell if she was crying but she felt a ripping feeling in her chest and a pain well up in the back of her throat. she couldn’t stop thinking about the shock that etched itself onto your face when she had yelled at you earlier. you didn’t need somebody as damaged as her, you didn’t need that trouble in your life. her father would probably kill her before she could even tell you she loved you; either that, or she’d end up as fucked up as he was.  

suddenly, natalie jumped from shock as she heard a rattling noise behind her. some rubbish fell off a pile and she heard the shuffle of a body. turning swiftly, she saw a hunched over black figure approaching her, and before natalie could process her shock, she aimed the gun at them.

but then, on reflex (and maybe a reaction to trauma), natalie pressed her finger on the trigger. following the gunshot sound that rung throughout the junkyard, natalie could only hear silence, and then a pained gasp. hold on – it sounded feminine.

she rushed to the collapsing figure as they fell on their side lifelessly, like a sack of potatoes. ripping the hood off their face, she felt her blood run cold when she saw none other than you. (y/n) (l/n). you gripped your shoulder with your hand, coughing hard, as crimson began to seep through your fingers.

“shit! (y/n)! what the fuck?”, natalie gasped as she cried, holding you, “what the fuck? what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-“

you coughed again, snapping your friend out of her panicked spiral. natalie’s stomach filled with bile as she helped you strip the hoodie off, leaving you in your soccer jersey. you screamed in pain at the action, biting down on a sleeve. your shoulder was bloodied all the way to your chest, and natalie couldn’t identify where she had shot you.

“i-“, she wept, “i don’t know what to do. i didn’t mean to shoot you.”

your vision began to blur as natalie whimpered, and you reached a shaky hand out to touch her face.

“call misty.”

natalie’s warm tears dripped down your fingers, and the feeling revitalised you a little. her body was bent in a way that resembled a hurt animal as she bit down on her lip, body trembling. she squeezed your hand with more strength than you yourself could even muster up in that moment.  

“call misty,” you repeated again, and something in natalie clicked as she awakened from her bleary mental turmoil.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

first, you heard voices, and then you opened your eyes. you were in misty’s living room, nestled up under blankets on her sofa. natalie and misty exchanged a few brief words before natalie turned to look at you. she looked exhausted and you could see smoky streaks of eyeliner on her cheeks. she noticed that you had woken up wiped her eyes, and then rushed to your side. she held your palm to her cheek, and you felt wetness.

you hissed in pain as you moved a hand up to rest it on the back of her head before talking sweetly yet tiredly, “hey gorgeous.”

you noticed misty smile in the corner of your eye before she left the room to give you two some space.

“i didn’t mean to, (y/n). you’re the last person i’d wanna hurt,” natalie whispered, voice trembling.  

“i know nat, it’s okay.”

natalie hiccupped and cried, “it’s not okay though. i still hurt you, i nearly killed you. i love you. i’d never wanna hurt you like that, and i did.”

though natalie glossed over the confession, you heard every word of it; it sunk into you, and you felt your body grow heavier as heat rose to your cheeks.

“you love me?”, you repeated her words, sheepishly.

“i…”, she breathed for a moment, “i’ve loved you since the day i met you.”

“i love you too”, is all you said, looking into her eyes. they looked innocent in that moment, and you knew you could get lost in them for hours. natalie was full of complexities, and you wanted to unravel her troubles and see her smile.  

“but, (y/n), i’m just too much trouble. my family is fucked up, and i’m fucked up too. i’d only hurt you”, she gasped out, not wanting to damage you further.

“i’m willing to deal with that, nat,” is all that you said, “we can get through it together.”

natalie looked surprised for a second as your words set in. her mouth was open in a small o shape, until you, with all the strength you could muster, pulled her into you.

she kissed you gently, not wanting to make your injury worse, and you were almost stiff due to the pain you felt, but you pushed through it, and pulled her even closer.

her lips tasted like salt and cigarettes, but you didn’t mind, because you loved her so much. you felt your heart swell in adoration as you pulled away, wiping her tears with a thumb.

for a moment, you studied each other’s eyes, until you heard a gasp behind you. misty covered her face. “(y/n), i know i owed you a favour, but that doesn’t mean i want to be a third wheel in my own house!”

the three of you burst into laughter and natalie helped you up. misty continued, “i stitched it up and tried to clean the cut as well as possible, but don’t do any rigorous activity for a few weeks. this means no soccer practice, got it?”, she pointed a finger against your chest, and you nodded. “also, pat dry after a shower, and constantly take painkillers, because it’s not going to heal easily.”  

after thanking the yellowjackets’ equipment manager, natalie helped walk you home. she sat on your bed as you inspected the wound in your bedroom mirror. “looks gnarly, d’ya reckon i’ll have a sexy scar?”

natalie chuckled, awkwardly, hiding her face in shame a little.

“it’s fine, babe, i’m really not upset at you, i promise.” you said, suddenly holding her face in your hand, forcing her to look into your eyes.

she only smiled back at you, wearily. you both fell silent for a moment before she cleared her throat. “well, i guess i should… find somewhere to stay. goodnight, (y/n).”

but, then you grabbed her hand in yours. “hold on a sec. you can stay with me.”

natalie looked at you with wide eyes.

“you have nowhere to go, and besides, i’ll need someone to help me with my injury. i’m sure my parents won’t mind”, you smiled with a wink, voice like honey.  

natalie pulled you in for a chaste kiss, pressing a hand on your lower back.

she literally missed your heart that day, but she shot right through it the moment you both fell in love.

[lemonwisp]

Okay folks here is my honest review of season 4 of the umbrella academy (not that it matters but this is from a person who’s obsession runs so deep I started a meme page for this show, I started making edits because of this show, I found out how to label my sexuality because of this show, after season 1 I bought all the comics and then I also bought the you look like death comics when they came out, I have nearly every funko pop (rip hazel and cha cha when I get you and when I get young Ben my collection will be complete) I love this show more than words can describe)

I was expecting it to be bad, in the way that season 3 was bad, and it wasn’t bad in that way, however there was still some awful cgi (tua really shows me that shows can have wonderful and awful cgi at the same time)

I enjoyed the first episode and became hopeful when Klaus got the dog tags but then he doesn’t even put them on despite keeping them. I loved Klaus’s friendship with Claire, I liked Luther acting like a golden retriever. Blah blah blah. I liked Diego and the piñata and the fact they called their firstborn Grace was really sweet

However the continuity errors in this season really bothered me. At the end of season 3 Klaus still has the dog tags and temple tattoo, in the promotional picture Klaus has the temple tattoo, yet in the show it wasn’t there.

The plot hole of Sloane not being there (I know realistically when Allison told Reggie the timeline she wanted she was being selfish but still)

Also the thing about Lila and hating bracelets totally goes back on the fact that Diego got her one in season 2 and she wore it all the time.

THE FACT IT TOOK THEM SO LONG TO GET TO MAINE BUT WHEN PEOPLE JUST WALKED OFF THEY GOT BACK TO THEIR HOUSES AND STUFF SO FAST

The fact Ray leaving was mentioned only twice and we never got more information on that.

The fact that Klaus pulled the lovers card and Dave didn’t come back! The fact Klaus had time to try to summon Dave and just didn’t. Klaus writing STOP on their hand and then that just disappearing. Also Klaus’s PTSD just not being shown anymore.

I’m not even going to talk about the Lila and Five situation because I’m so unbelievably angry about it. I’m obviously angry about Dave not being mentioned at all.

Also I thought Klaus being a medium was clever but also then it just turned into them being used and idk I just want Klaus to be happy

Also Ben this season was funny, but I just miss brelly Ben so much.

And while they were in the subway station I was waiting for Brelly ben to show up because the scene in season 3 of Ben BEING ON A TRAIN! I was like oh that must be brelly ben, like that’s where he went after turning into swiss cheese and then they’d get him and have him face sparrow Ben or something.

And after all of the lead up to how Ben originally died and it just being that Reggie killed him. I feel like that wasn’t that big of a shock value because Reginald seems like the type to do that. I also feel like it was kind of boring. But I did appreciate the fact the young cast were in season 4

Also I’m not saying Jennifer should have died but they said only one of them needed to die and I know it’s selfish to want Ben to live and I felt bad for Jennifer it’s just I didn’t really grow attached to her

I understand why it ended the way it did but also am upset with the ending. I admit the marigolds at the end were cute, but even though I know it’s self indulgent to wish for this I just wanted them to be happy. Or even if the ending was just like a time loop and it restarted back to season 1 would have made me feel a bit more satisfied.

I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve grown up watching tua, I’ve spent five years of my life hyperfixating on this show, and it feels like the actors care about their characters and the writers do not.

However I’m so glad I got to be part of this journey with all the other TUA fans, I thank everyone who supported my meme page I have on Instagram, who makes fan art, fan fiction, and edits about the show and comics, everyone who cares about TUA, and I’m sorry that it ended the way that it did because frankly seeing the fans care more about the characters than the writers hurts. Knowing the injustices done to the characters hurts, but I’m glad I’m not alone when I say season four kinda fucking sucked.

EDIT: NOT TO EVEN MENTION IN SEASON 3 BEN KEPT DRAWING JENNIFER THEN THAT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN SEASON 4 and CLAIRE KNEW KLAUS WAS IMMORTAL LIKE WHEN DID SHE FIND THAT OUT

[spicy-pears]

ᏁᎧᎥᏒ (𝖭𝗈𝗂𝗋)

𝖶.𝖢: 1.7 𝖪

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝖲𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖯𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾/𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄?, 𝖠𝗀𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖡𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖡𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀/ 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝖲𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝚆𝙽: 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖y 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝚂𝚘, 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠!

𝖯.𝗌: 𝖪𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖱𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗍.

𝖱𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖱𝗈𝖼𝗄, 𝖳𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗌. 1976.

Anxious, your precious eyes stared into a boundless ill-lit abyss. All the while, your uneasy mind began to craft an ocean of white noise. Desperately trying to drown out every little sound, Every scoff or stammer from your drunk lover. And for a moment you felt the sweet embrace of the peace you sought.

Finally able to exhale, Joining the calm rhythm of the frigid water cascading on your back. But once your full lips parted to do so, your small frame jolted into a paralyzed state. As the crashing sound from hallow glass bottles rang through your ears.

His boisterous laughter grew agonizingly loud, as your only defense crumbled away. Leaving you to act out of second nature. Doe-eyed as you stared back at the wide motel room window, woefully watching his menacing shadow. You knew that intimidating brooding bodice all too well. The unhinged anger rising through him was palpable, even from afar.

Phantom whispers of passersby soon replaced your dread with embarrassment. Their words thick with pity, “Poor thing, I hope he doesn’t behave that way around her…”. Urging your lovely hazel eyes to avert the chaotic scene, your meager attempt at dissociation.

 Maybe you were bound to men of Johnny’s nature, or just bound to cross his path. Nevertheless, he was no better than your lover. Johnny’s days were spent draining innocent girls of everything they had. Playing with his “food” till his cruel smile grew dull, eventually slinking up from his morbid den. To crack open another stiff beer and do it all over again.

Regardless, he instantly took a liking to you. As you reminded him of the mother he once had. How your hazel eyes glistened like pools of honey, just like hers. You both also shared the same nature, lovingly patient to a fault. No matter what your drunken lover had done, your love was forever unconditional.

You were too much like her, you poor sweet thing. 

“Everything alright darlin?” Johnny’s smooth southern twang instantly caught your attention. Your friendly gaze held a sweet glint while staring back into his dark hazel-brown eyes. As he stood there at the pool's edge, his attentive tone effectively made you feel like the only girl in the world.

Yet, to his dismay, the friendly aura in your eyes never grew into anything more. “I’m fine thank you.” You instinctively stayed in the pool, not risking the chance of upsetting your volatile boyfriend over a handsome stranger.

Johnny would halt his alluring leer with a short chuckle, a varied sound that you couldn’t decipher. “You should head inside; we wouldn’t want the bad man to get ya.” His eyes met the sky while fishing his pockets for his lighter. Seemingly eager to light the cigarette, that he impatiently held in his other hand.

“Well…You’re the only man out here.” Although you were merely joking with the stranger, he didn’t miss your true apprehension. If it wasn’t for that obedient wide-eyed look he salivated for. Or the tempting way your lips curled, he would’ve already killed you. It would’ve been easy too; you were nothing but a kit to him.

“The devil darlin.” Johnny's gaze shifted downwards. Rewarding you with a hazy yet virtually feral look, causing your small frame to pause. As warmth began to build up at your core.

Shamefully, you would back away further into the pool and away from the edge. “Say it ain't so.” Your tone remained light-hearted, trying your very best to disguise the pull he had on you. But your underlining flirtatious tone, caused the corners of his lips to slyly curl.

His devilish grin was almost enough to make you melt. ”Well, I’m afraid he wouldn't want me. I pray far too much.” A curt smile was all you gave him, holding firm at your desire of not wanting any trouble.

 To him, it was cute that you thought you had a choice, to begin with. Prompting a dry chuckle would rumble from his broad chest, “Smart girl, you have a good night then.”.

Without a second glance, he left you to resume your pursuit of peace.

For now, at least.

“Shit, shit…” panic clung to your gentle voice, reminiscent of a helpless child. While you frantically searched for your room key. Praying that the flickering streetlamp was playing tricks on you, hoping that you wouldn’t be forced to knock on that dreaded door. Beckoning the sleeping beast awake.

To Johnny, you were nothing but another careless girl. Flaunting around in a swim top, that was barely enough to contain your plush chest. You didn’t even notice, let alone cared how lewdly your small body was precariously positioned.

Thoughtlessly on your hands and knees, with your hips jutting back. As you climbed on top of the long white lounge chair. Presenting the tempting outline of your cunt, as it shined through your thin swimming thong.

Regardless, you continued to fruitlessly comb through your belongings again, and again to no avail. But as your distress grew, you took little heed of the aged vile pungence of acidic copper. Nor the heavy footsteps, which only seemed to grow uncomfortably nearer.

 “You should’ve gone inside kit…”.

Instantly, the vile stench would overwhelm you. As Johnny’s bloodied hand firmly took hold of your pretty little face. Slowly applying more agonizing pressure, with his possessive grip. While his lips curled into a sadistic grin, slowly dragging his thumb across your lips. Coating them with a thin layer of fresh crimson.

“Not. A. Word.” His once charming tone suddenly became low and demonic, his words stern yet definite. You’d struggle against his agonizing grip, as paralyzing pain coursed through your jaw.

Those lovely hazel eyes he adored, now brimming with thick murky tears. Within his twisted mind, your lovely eyes were much prettier this way. Your once innocent gaze now conflicted with lust and pain.

Cruelly he’d leaned down to your ear, wearing a wolfish grin as pure as sin. “You so much as think of screamin' and I’ll split yer jaw.” Johnny possessively held your gaze, while freeing his eager leaky cock from his blood-stained jeans. Teasing you, as he warmed the fat middle of it between your wet slit. Rendering you cock-drunk, aching to feel the prominent veins of his cock running against your tight spongy walls.

Without warning, A pained cry would escape your lips. Following the intense wave of prickling pain rushing up your spine. Your hip was now decorated with red angry marks, as Johnny roughly tore away your thong. The way your small frame jolted in place and froze, drew out his heartless laughter.

 “Nawww, don’t cry now…I barely started.” His vague threat was delivered with a low cocky tone, nothing more. Before jerking his hips, brutally bottoming out inside you. With a deep feral pace, steadily knocking the air out of your lungs.

 You’d struggle against him, pathetically squirming in place as his cock overwhelmed you. The outline of his cock, lightly bulged out from inside your petite bodice. Molding your cunt around the shape of his cock. While stretching you beyond your limit, forcing hot tears to cascade down your flushed cheeks.

“Mmmm, that’s it…” Johnny shamelessly voiced his pleasure with a deep guttural grunt, before burying his face against the crook of your neck. His lips now ravenously claim your skin, his teeth grazing every inch of it. Until his pointed canines began to agonizingly dig into your skin, a slow torture as he savored the addictive taste of your feverish blood.

Even with his teeth hooked deep into your skin, his pace never faltered. All the while, your voice grew weak and frayed, after letting out an array of angelic cries. Reduced to making mindless whimpers and mewls. While your hot slick dripped down to his balls and coated his toned inner thighs.

His chest rumbled with an animalistic growl; his pace was now erratic.

His punishing thrust brought the round plush of your ass to lewdly clap, joining the symphony of your squelching pussy. Your jaw would slack, allowing your tongue to lol out dumbly. As his oppressive bite Suddenly lifted, allowing you to freely take in Johnny’s menacing appearance.

Fresh dark scarlet sloppily painted across his mouth. Glistening and moonlit, as he yanked your head back further by your soft locks. “Johnny…say it.” His aggressive bark was followed by a disciplining smack across your ass. Your soft exhales would shift into a sharp hiss, as the sudden pain caused you to weakly tremble beneath him.

The knot built at your core was ready to snap. As every brutal pump of his hips brought his tip to kiss your sensitive cervix, bruising it again and again. Yet, through your heart-rendering teary gaze. You rewarded him with a cold bratty glare and a combative tone, “Johnny”. Although your voice was weak and trembling, you dared to defy him.

Soon, you saw his psychotic wide toothy grin, shining against a bloodied backdrop. “Oh, don’t worry. I like it when there's some fight left!” Without hesitation, and in one quick motion, he broke your body. Wrapping his toned arms tight around your waist, now pounding into you with no restraint. Setting the knot at your core aflame, as your pulsing cunt clenched around him.

Eliciting a shuddering groan to echo from his lungs, as you released on your cock. Coating it in a fresh overflow of your well-fucked juices, “Fuck-..You little slut”. You felt his cock throb, while he breathed out short hazy puffs. His mind clouded as his muscles flexed and tightened, as your spiteful cunt milked him in return.

His once feral thrusts began to stagger, as his balls contracted. The veins in his hands hardened, his grip stronger. “Johnny- “, Johnny salivated at the softer cries of his name that spilled from your drooling lips. But the way your sweet voice screamed out his name, sent him over the edge. As he slammed into you once more, decorating your cunt with thick white ribbons.

Your body would fall limp, while wrapped right around his strong arms. Breathing at an exhausted rhythm matching his, His demonic gaze was now non-existent. As his lips suddenly meet yours, excusing his previous cruelty with a tender kiss.

“Comon’ go get yer stuff, we got a long ride home kit.”

[fiapartridge]

Maybe before Beckett and Hazel started dating one of the other ducks players would flirt with her during the weekly questions for TikTok and Beckett is just so annoyed with it bc even though they aren’t “together” yet that’s HIS GIRL!!!! a little bit of drama if you know what I mean

does he know? -> beckett x hazel 💌🌸✨

"does he know that i want you so bad?" does he know, one direction

pairing: beckett sennecke x hazel summary: beckett is tired of the guys flirting with his girl... warning(s): cursing author's note: omg BYE I WAS LIKE when can i start the drama 👀 i already have ideas for a breakup LMFAOO wc: 1.4k

He shouldn’t feel like this—not after only knowing her for a couple weeks, not after only going on three dates with the girl—but watching his teammates flirt with her, day after day, knowing that he and Hazel are—at least in Beckett’s mind—a thing, made him feel…I don’t know, upset? Angry? Jealous? Sure he’s never really told the guys that he’s with Hazel, and honestly, he doesn’t even know if Hazel thinks that they’re together, but to Beckett, that was his girl—in the least territorial way ever.

“Beck!” Trevor shouted, skating over to the bench where Beckett was standing, dousing his face with cold water. 

“Hey, Trev,” Beckett responded, lowering the water bottle and facing the older boy.

“You okay?” he laughed, clapping his back. 

Beckett wondered what prompted Trevor to ask that. Did he put his pants on backwards again, or maybe he was wearing the wrong helmet, or, oh shit, was he supposed to be doing laps right now? Beckett looked around curiously, and then did another look confusedly, no one was doing laps. Okay, maybe he was okay then. But then why was Trevor talking to him? 

“Uh,” Beckett stammered. “I think I’m okay…” he trailed off, his mind racing with ideas on why he’s probably not okay. If I think I’m okay, but everyone else thinks I’m not okay, then that should mean that they cancel each other out and that I am okay? Or does that mean that I’m not okay? Fuck, now I’m confused.

Trevor laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking as Beckett stood in front of him awkwardly. “You’re disassociating as fuck right now.”

Before Beckett could ask Trevor how he learned that word—because let’s be real, despite Trevor attending college for a year, he didn’t know many words—Olen skated up to the two boys, grabbing a water bottle from the bench. 

“Zelly, riddle me this—”

“For fucks sake, did you just say ‘riddle me this,’ Zeegs?” Olen chuckled.

Trevor waved him off, continuing his ramble. “Riddle me this!” he said louder, trying to drown out Olen and Beckett’s laughter. “Becky here is falling for the media girl.”

Beckett scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “No, I’m not!”

“You totally are,” Trevor replied. “You were watching her set up her little tripod for the last five minutes.”

“No way, Beck,” Olen chuckled. 

“I don’t like her like that,” he argued. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with them. Everything they were saying was completely factual. He does like Hazel. Hazel has been one of the best people he’s met since coming here, but for some reason, he just couldn’t admit it to them. Maybe it was the way he felt like he had to be mature coming to the Ducks, I mean, he’s in the NHL now. He should act like it, but at the same time, he kind of just wanted to look cool around them. 

Was admitting that he liked Hazel deemed uncool, though? He wasn’t sure. 

“Oh,” Trevor nodded dramatically. “So you don’t mind that Cut’s over there flirting with your girl?”

Beckett whipped around, faster than he would like to admit, and came face to face with the exact scene Trevor had described. There Cutter was, making Hazel laugh. He had no right to make Hazel laugh like that. Was it even funny? Was she laughing out of pity because she’s just that nice? Was this her way of telling him to leave her alone, by indulging in his stupid jokes and unfunny references? What could he even be saying that was making her laugh that way?

Hazel’s shoulders shook uncontrollably, laughing so hard she might even pee her pants. Amanda, the other intern working social media with her, laughing equally as hard. 

“The Lakers are not what LAK in hockey stands for,” Cutter laughed as Amanda snorted loudly, prompting more chuckles from the three. 

“How was I supposed to know!” Hazel shouted, small shiny tears rimming her eyes. 

“I don’t know, you work in hockey?” Cutter replied. “But at least we know you’re not a Kings fan,” he smirked, knocking his shoulder against hers.

“Cool down, bro. You look like you’re gonna pop a vein,” Trevor laughed as Beckett watched the three of them.

“What could he possibly be saying that is that funny?” Beckett scoffed, squeezing more water into his mouth.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you go over there and tell him to back the fuck off your girl?” Trevor suggested. Trevor always made rash decisions, and every single time, they backfired. But this one didn’t sound too bad. But also, this is Beckett Sennecke we’re talking about. The boy trips over his own two feet and stumbles over simple phrases like The Cat in the Hat. He couldn’t give Cutter a piece of his mind even if he wanted to.

And he wanted to so badly, or at least walk over there and kiss the shit out of Hazel right in front of the guy. 

“She’s not my girl, Trev,” Beckett sighed.

“Yeah, but you want her to be. So, just do it,” he shrugged as if it was so easy. For Trevor, maybe. Trevor could get any girl he wanted by just sending a look there way. But again, this is Beckett Sennecke we’re talking about. He was the literal embodiment of a loser. “C’mon, we’re doing the stupid question thing again. Go over there and get your fuckin’ girl.”

Beckett rolled his eyes, but followed the older boy’s lead. He strode over to the tunnel where the interviews were taking place. He read the whiteboard that listed this week’s question. “If you had any superpower, what would it be?”

He listened to all of the boys’ responses before it was Cutter’s turn. He smirked at the camera, and then smirked at Hazel, like he knew that his answer would incite something in her. Beckett’s stomach churned, watching Cutter eye Hazel like he wanted her in not-so-innocent ways.

Cutter mulled the question over before giving his response. “Teleportation, definitely.”

“Why?” Hazel prompted.

Cutter smiled and it made Beckett’s body go scolding hot with envy. Beckett wasn’t even a jealous person, or maybe he’s never liked any girl enough to become jealous of a guy talking to them, but right now, he felt like he could burn a hole in a wall just from one look—maybe that could be his superpower, he thought.

“So I could take this pretty girl I know anywhere she wants.”

What the fuck? Beckett’s entire body lurched, not even sure if he heard the guy correctly. But by the way Cutter was smirking at his girl, Beckett could tell that he heard the guy loud and clear. 

“You just gonna let him say that, Beck?” Olen teased.

No the fuck he wasn’t.

Walking forward, Beckett met Hazel’s gaze and it was like his body fell back into a safe, normal temperature. She smiled at him and it felt different. It felt different from the way she smiled at Mason, and the way she smiled at Leo, and even the way she smiled at Cutter. It felt warm and giddy and real and genuine and—it felt like Hazel, like his Hazel. 

“Beckster.”

“Haze.”

It was like he was gravitating towards her. He wanted to talk to her and ask her a million questions. He wanted to ask for her thoughts on the third book in the Off Campus series; if she was tired from standing all day; if she was hungry, or if she wanted him to grab her a snack from his duffle bag, knowing that she hates the ones the nutritionist provides. “I appreciate the healthiness, like do your job, sis, but like…we really need some junk food around here, you know? Like at least some potato chips or something.”

“This will probably be the most important question you’ll hear all day,” she grinned, tilting her head up to look at Beckett.

“Oh, definitely,” he smiled back, and it was like a charge of electricity was tying them together, like something magnetic was keeping them close, unrippable without force. It felt right, like he had no reason to be jealous of Cutter or anyone else on the team because they didn’t connect with Hazel—-not the way Beckett did. They could make her laugh, smile, god forbid they make her cry, but it’ll always be Beckett that she comes back to, and it'll always be Hazel that he wants. 

“What superpower do you want, Beck?”

He gazed at her, a playful smirk spreading across his face, and said, "I’d make it rain potato chips.”

taglist! (@bunbunbl0gs @crazy4smitty )

[livwritesstuff]

Ok so I feel like Eddie would have Tumblr. He’d be an absolute menace, he just gives off that Vibe, y’know?

Would any of their daughters have Tumblr? Would they know about each others’ accounts? Would they follow each other/interact? Or do their interests differ enough they leave each other alone?

i seriously think you live inside my head or something bc i’ve literally thought about this so many times

So when I imagine Eddie as an author, I’m really picturing him as kind of like a Neil Gaiman-esque figure, both in terms of his genre/style of writing and the way he engages with the general public. The only difference to me is that where Gaiman has put a lot of focus on TV/movies, Eddie sticks a bit closer to novels.

Neil Gaiman very notably has a Tumblr account. He’s been on Tumblr for ages, and I feel like Eddie would be the same way. 

Eddie is definitely a total disaster on Tumblr in the 2010s. He says whatever he wants, engages in political discourse like nobody’s business, and probably spoiled his own writing on one occasion or another. His agent didn’t know what to think because on paper it’s bad news behavior, but Eddie’s primary audience actually seems to enjoy the transparency, so on the whole he leaves him alone.

The older Eddie gets, though, the more he mellows out, and by the 2020s he mostly just uses it as a running Q/A. Still, it’s definitely the platform he’s the most genuine and himself on (because he probably also has a Twitter and an Instagram, but only out of business obligation and he practically never uses them).

As for their daughters, if anybody has a Tumblr, it’s 100% Robbie. Robbie is definitely the pinnacle of a late-2010s Tumblr girl, for better and/or for worse. She knows about her dad’s account (and forever curious about how many followers he has even though Eddie refuses to tell her). She doesn’t follow him, but occasionally one of his posts still ends up on her feed and she is so upset about it every time.

Moe could have a Tumblr – maybe in her late middle school and high school years. I feel like she’d be the kid who taught herself fairly complex HTML coding purely for aesthetic theme purposes. She’s Steve through and through though so as she gets older, the novelty of social media in general wears off and she decides it really isn’t her thing.

I feel like Hazel’s interests wouldn’t lead her down the Tumblr path. She’s a YouTube/TikTok/Insta girlie true and true. Maybe Robbie tries to bully her into making one, but she doesn’t really get how it works so it just never happens.

(And Robbie definitely keeps her Tumblr on lockdown. That shit is hers and hers alone).

[azsazz]

hot take i think zuzu begs for a cat and even though azriel doesn’t like them he gets her one not knowing he’ll become the cats favorite person like every time he sits on the couch it will come and lay on him without fail

This has been sitting in my mind for a bit but I've just now had the time to write a little something.

"Did you forget we have children now or..." you trail off, staring down at your mate who's looking all too much like the tiny black cat settled on his chest, napping away.

Azriel peeks an eye open, glancing up at you where you stand before him with Malos on your hip. She's chewing on a cracker you've given her to keep her from crying. She'd missed her nap this afternoon and has been in a mood ever since.

"We have kids, you know," you continue, slightly sourly.

"I know," Azriel responds, and his voice is rough like he had been sleeping, and it sends tingles zipping up your spine. "I've got one of them right here."

Thankfully, he doesn't mean the kitten Zuzu had been begging him for for absolute ages. She seemed even more determined and willing to wait out her stern father, who really was a softie for his little girls and had been the one trying to convince you to allow him to get the tiny creature for your daughter.

Knox is tucked between Azriel's chest and the couch, napping away. You wish that was you right now, not wrangling the other five and trying to get them to play nice.

"Zuz has been asking about her cat," you tell him, grimacing as Malos shoves the half-eaten, wet cracker in your face.

"Elixir."

You sigh, "Zuzu has been asking about Elixir. She's upset that she doesn't like spending time with her. Says Elixir loves nothing more than you."

Azriel bites back a smile, running his hand gently across the black cat's fur. The tiny creature purrs in her sleep.

He didn't think he would like having a cat around at first, but after seeing how small it was and cradled it in his hands, it reminded him of all of the times he first held his children. He aches for the feeling of that again.

"I don't try and wrangle Elixir into frilly bows and sweaters Elain knits her," Azriel responds, ever so patiently.

"That's right, you just lie around and the cat comes to you," you shake your head. Clearly this conversation isn't going the way you want it to.

Jax crawls his way into the room, babbling nonsense since he's trying to learn how to speak. He grips the edge of the couch and heaves himself up to peek at the sleeping kitten lying on his father's chest.

"Happy," he grins, pointing to Elixir with a wet finger that had been in his mouth. Azriel smiles wide at his son and you melt a little at the way hazel eyes sparkle as he runs his fingers through Jax's hair.

"Good boy, Elixir is happy, isn't she?" It's said with a glance at you and you roll your eyes. With Knox and Jax in Azriel's care, it should be a bit easier to gather the rest of the children and keep them from bickering with each other as they play.

You plop Malos down on her father's lap and it jolts the kitten awake who mewls in fright. "Here, have another kid," you say, making it clear that you're not thrilled with how this conversation went. You make for the hall to play with your eldest, leaving Azriel to bask in the loving of the youngest and the new family pet, Elixir.

[dearanakin]

you gotta let me know

Summary: At a party, you overhear Steve revealing his feelings for you, but you're too drunk to remember what happened that night.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Munson!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/angst/mentions of alcohol

next chapter

Steve sat looking out the window for several minutes now. Eyes focused on the street before him. It had been not too long ago that Robin locked the both of you inside her apartment. 

Six months ago, you and Steve had an argument over how he felt about you. You called him bullshit. Slurring incoherent words while drunk at some stupid party.

After that, he steered clear of you. Not wanting anything to do with you. And because of that, the two of you split up time between the small group of friends. Going back and forth just to avoid seeing each other. 

He didn't want to see your face. He didn’t want to remember your drunken words. He didn’t want any of that. All because you didn't want to believe he actually liked you.

Despite his words about actually liking you for everything you were. You still took that one moment of sincerity and turned it into a joke. All because of a preference he used to have for girls. 

"Do you even remember what you said that night?" 

His words were cold and sharp. He didn’t dare look at you, worried what might happen if he did. He kept still at the window.

Fifteen seconds later, still no response. 

The sad thing is, you don’t remember. All that came to mind was one moment where you threw your drink at him. You were so unbelievably drunk. Not that he could even take care of you. You wouldn’t let him.

He scoffed, and took a deep breath. Wiping a hand over his tired face. The silence was torture. But not nearly as bad as the noisy reactions he kept throwing over his shoulder at you. They felt like bullets. 

“Wow. That doesn’t really surprise me at all.” 

Scratch that, those felt like bullets. 

He was right, of course. You couldn't really put the pieces together and remember everything that was said that night. Or any night after drinking. Your brother tried talking to him on your behalf. But he avoided every conversation about it. Wanting to forget that day ever happened.

Maybe you wanted it too. Especially after seeing the bitter pain it was bringing to your friend.

"Steve, I-" It was almost too difficult for you to speak about it. “I'm sure I didn't mean any of it. How can you think I was serious about that?”

He had both his hands holding his hips, while his gaze turned to be fixated on the floor. Away from you. His head dropped, almost defeated, as he chuckled.  

"I just think you know what you did, but you never bothered coming after me and really asking me what happened".

"Well, you were avoiding me after that!" You snapped. It wouldn't hurt to go after him, that's right. But at the same time, you thought he was joking and mocking you.

"For fuck's sake, Munson. Of course I was. You can't even remember a single word you said" Steve felt offended. He'd felt like that for a long time, ever since that day. "I don't care if you were drunk or not, what happened that day changed our friendship."

You don't really remember what happened, the only thing you remember was how you humiliated him by throwing your drink at him. You don't know why. And he's still too upset to talk about it.

You wished you could dig a giant hole and hide your body under it. After whatever Steve just said, you were just trying to understand WHY he would like you. It's not like you have never dated before, but most guys tend to not look your way because the girl next to you is hotter and skinnier.

You kept watching him, your vision was completely distorted in virtue of drinking your ass off. Every single cup being chugged. And for what? You wanted to kiss him. You wanted him. You really did, but you didn't want to ruin your friendship. 

His confused face and his hazel eyes kept a gaze at you, waiting for an answer.You froze at his admission. And the best you could even say was: "Are you fucking kidding me?". Every word slurred against him. If it could get any more confused than that, it was because you made it.

"Is this a fucking joke?" Your hands were shaking, your body was leaning against the kitchen island and Steve was holding your waist, afraid you'd stumble.

"Why would it be a joke, Y/N? It wasn't even supposed to happen like that. Can we just have this conversation another day? Especially when you're sober?" His eyes pleaded, but your stupid drunken brain refused to accept his offer.

"Why would you even like me, if I'm not as hot as the other girls you went out with? I'm not Nancy either!" You were screaming, and the few people passing by started looking at the both of you.

"I don't care if you're not like her. I don't fucking care you're not like them. I think you're fucking hot just the way you are, Munson. Is that so hard to understand?"

The point is, he wasn't in love with Nancy anymore. But he never liked it when Nancy was brought up in a conversation like that. And he hated that you were comparing yourself with someone else, because he liked you for you.

"I know. I'm such a terrible person. I'm really sorry, Steve" You were too ashamed to look at him now. 

Sitting by the couch, not too close to him, you felt a weight over your shoulders pulling you down to the ground.

Shame. Jesus, why did you overreact like that? Why were you so fucking insecure?

"You will have to apologize a lot more than just this time, Y/N. It just doesn't wipe it out. You threw a drink at me, Jesus. Your brother even helped me out that day. Eddie was feeling so fucking sorry for me, it was embarrassing."

Eddie didn't tell you much about the party, either. He didn't want you to feel bad for what happened, but you needed the answer to that. He's been telling you for the past six months that Steve didn't ever want to bring that up.

He didn't want to remember the way you treated him when he said he liked you. And here you are, sitting close to him, and he can only feel sorry for himself. At least from your point of view. But still, he feels sorry for you as well, for your behavior. For your lack of confidence.

"He never really wanted to tell me whatever happened. He did say I shouldn't have done that" The hot tears were rolling out of your face without mercy. You can cry as much as you want, you won't have his friendship ever again.

Not even if you kneeled on a shit ton of beans spread on the floor and stayed there for hours.

"Robin wanted this to end well, and I don't blame her. But for all I know, I wouldn't want to carry on with this conversation" He sat down on the armchair, still refusing to look at you.

You bent your knees, resting your chin on them, still crying quietly. He knows you liked him. He knows you held feelings for him. But he can't do anything about it, not right now. He doesn't feel comfortable around you yet.

"Is there even anything I could do to make it right? Is there a way to make it up for you?" You were almost begging. You watched him run over a hand on his perfect hair, sighing heavily. "It can't be like this forever."

"No, it can't" Steve was starting to get emotional. He wanted to tell you he liked you, but in the right place, at the right time. "But right now, I don't know what else you can do." 

You weren't supposed to overhear his conversation with Robin at the party, but he doesn't blame you for that.

He was fidgeting, thinking of his next words. "But I can't deal with this just yet. I know I was an asshole before, way before. I never really meant to be one, I just got carried away. And I won't admit to being called bullshit. We were always clear to each other, and you know that."

And then, a flash of memory of the conversation came back to your head.

You were still trying to look at him without feeling faint. If you kept staring at him for five more minutes, you might vomit at him. That wasn't even the worst case scenario. But what came next was.

You didn't even think twice when you threw your Cosmopolitan drink at him. It hit him on his chin, streaming down his shirt, making the fabric completely wet. A bunch of people passing through you both watched as it happened, some even made a few noises and you could hear some laughing.

Steve, on the other hand, was shocked. He wanted to ask what the fuck happened. He probably wanted to yell at you, but he wouldn't. Slowly, he looked at his shirt, and then looked back at you. You couldn't even stand on your feet because of the alcohol, but you knew what you did.

And yet, you didn't care. 

You'd throw many drinks at him. "Don't bullshit me, Steve. That's bullshit. You're bullshit!" You yelled. He took a step back, not expecting you to react like that. "I'm drunk, but I'm not fucking stupid! Don't play that game with me!'

What game it was, you didn't know.

"Y/N, please. Let's just go home and sober up. For the love of God, you got me wet with alcohol, what the hell?" He wanted to pull you by your arm and get you out of the party, but you refused to.

"Why are you such a liar? Is that a fucking joke?" You pushed him. You tried to make him tell you the truth. But the truth was already there, he liked you. And you took his words and stepped on them. You were the one making fun of him now.

That's all you could still remember, a one-minute conversation of a whole situation that still didn't come to your mind.

"God, this is such a fucking mess. I'm sorry, Steve. I'm sorry I acted so dumb and incredibly horrific" You blurted out, feeling a lump in your throat. You could only remember the smallest bit of it, calling him bullshit and throwing a drink at him.

As much as you wanted to remember everything that was said, your memory was fuzzy and blurry. The way Steve reacted to the conversation was understandable, but you considered you had the right to know what went so wrong.

Steve, on the other hand, was hurt. He had been wishing for months that he could forget that night and move on with his life, but the feeling he had for you was unbearably significant. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't get rid of it. And that hurt him.

Whatever happened left scars and a feeling that he should never have told Robin anything, at least not at that party.

One second you were sitting on the couch, the next second you're kneeling towards him, your hands trying to grab a hold of his wrists. It was hard to make contact with him after a while, he smelled like creamy sandalwood, and it drove you crazy.

It made you feel needy, empty inside and desperate for his forgiveness. You were a mess of tears and hiccups. Steve was never one to actually hide when he was feeling emotional, but right now, he was fragile.

"Just tell me what to do. Please, don't push me away like that. Harrington, you know I love you" It sounded like you were already paying for your sins.

He doesn't let you in, he doesn't let you see him this vulnerable. He doesn't want to remember the times he used to be a dick and had that thrown back at his face for nothing. He knows you're hurting, but you humiliated him.

"Please, let go of me. I don't want to deal with this right now anymore" Steve couldn't look at you. 

If he did, he might break down and let you in, forgive you. His tone was calm, slow, but painful. 

When he got up, he went straight to Robin's bedroom and locked himself in. Then, you sat there in the living room for another half an hour, until she got back home.

You called Eddie and asked him to pick you up. The entire ride back home, you didn't say anything. He wouldn't bring it up, either. Your face said it all. 

After getting back home, you went to your bed in the bedroom you shared with Eddie. Uncle Wayne wasn't home yet, which was probably for the best, because he would always want to give advice about life.

Not a single word was spoken about what happened between you and Steve, and your brother took your silence, respecting it. He was in the kitchen making dinner, while you were bawling your eyes out in the bedroom.

You only stopped crying when he stepped up and sat next to you, stroking your arm gently. He didn't know what to say, exactly. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better.

"Dinner is ready, sis. I think it's good that you eat something. You don't need to talk about it" Eddie squeezed your forearm gently.

It was always hard to say no to him. As much as he got this weird looking and hardcore attitude, he was always a really great brother. And a really great guy as well. Eddie was the most genuine person you know.

You made your way to the kitchen slowly, your eyes were still puffy and you felt your head pound. He made you both mac and cheese. And there were glasses of juice on the table. 

It's not like you're going to drink alcohol again after what happened, really. 

You kept looking at him, trying to find a way to speak up. Your curiosity about what happened that night was speaking loudly. It made you want an explanation of what Steve told him, or what he told Steve.

"That night- at the party... You- You and Steve" Your words were trembling out of your mouth. "He said you helped him after what I did".

You were expecting him to retract himself and not say a word. Instead, he took a deep breath before finally telling you about that day.

"This might hurt you, sis. I want you to understand why Steve has been avoiding you since then" Eddie started. You swallowed a huge lump in your throat. "But I don't think he should know I told you what happened."