#I haven't played a sport since middle school | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

live-laugh-lenney · 1 month ago

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need some angst so bad — maybe where reader lives with george, arthurtv, chris — arthur major fancies her, but has noticed chris or george has been taking a liking to her, flirting, etc. maybe him getting jealous and confessing his love??? and if you wanted to spice it up a little, throw some angry sex in there

a new arthurtv fic that is yours to devour! there is lots going on in my current drafts and over on my google docs and a lot going of 'work in progress's that has been started - including 'locked in' which i know a lot of you have been asking about - and i'm hoping most of it will be with you guys soon! thank you for being so patient with me - life has thrown a few curve balls at me and i haven't been online as much as i hoped to be recently so it means a lot that you guys are sending in stuff to keep this stuff going, ha. <33 word count; 6.8k ** TRIGGER WARNINGS; SMUT, FOUL LANGUAGE, ANGST **

"He's been such a grump tonight."

YN looked over her shoulder and in the direction of where Arthur was sat sporting an unhappy look on his face; his lips pouted and in a sunken manner that she hadn’t seen a smile on all day, slouched down on the sofa and barely interested in the party happening around him nor the music that was clinging to the atmosphere of the room, with his eyes glued to his phone screen and his thumb tapping away as he scrolled his socials to distract and distance himself from the rest of the room. Keeping away from the chaos of the house party, where the majority of their friends had gathered to celebrate YN’s decision in moving in, was going on.

"He’s been weird with me all day," YN admitted and Chris couldn’t help but give her a strange look, eyebrows furrowed on his forehead, "I don't know what I’ve done wrong, or whether I’ve said anything to upset him, but he's barely spoken a word to me all night. I could have sworn he was so excited for this to happen."

"That is weird."

"I honestly don't know what I’ve done so I don’t know how to make it up to him or how to apologise to get him to come over and enjoy himself," YN frowned, turning in her chair and tearing her attention away from Arthur and looking back to Chris, clasping tighter to the red solo cup that held her drink in her hand, taking a sip from the straw that was peeking over the rim, the top completely sodden and chewed upon yet she couldn't be bothered to get up and grab a brand new one from the cupboard, "we're all having fun over here. Playing games, having a good time, singing and dancing, drinking all the booze. And there he is, grumpy and antisocial, sitting by himself and barely involving himself with anyone."

Chris leaned over the small gap between their stools and squeezed YN’s knee reassuringly, acting as a silent 'don't worry about it for now’, before retracting his hand after a brief moment so he could finish off the dribble of his vodka and soda left behind in his cup. Standing to his feet, he held his hand out and pulled YN from the stool she was sitting upon, with his intentions being to get her another drink because it seemed like she needed it. He could read Arthur like a book, having known him since they were school kids, and he didn’t want YN to get upset over the man having a moment of uncertainty in his own mind… a moment where Chris could tell Arthur was suffocating in a room full of those he was closest to.

"Let’s get a refill and join in with George’s game of 'ring of fire'. Take your mind off of him being grumpy. Everyone else is here for you tonight, yeah? Let’s enjoy that."

"I’m not sure I want to. Look at the state of that pint glass," YN frowned and looked at the glass in the middle of the dining table, filled with a concoction of god-knows-what. No doubt a mix of lagers and ciders as well as the spirits that everyone seemed to be on, "if I drink whatever they’ve mixed there, then I will definitely spew everywhere and christen the toilet in a way that won’t be pretty."

Chris couldn’t help but roll his eyes - there was no way she would turn down a drinking game and it made him feel internally frustrated knowing she was doubting her enjoyment because of Arthur feeling sorry for himself. It wasn’t like her to not get involved, to turn down an offer of shots, to stay away from the excitement of the party happening around her. He stood beside her at the kitchen counter, where there were bottles of half-filled Smirnoff and Gordons as well as Southern Comfort and Sourz littered around, and he topped up his drink with a lot more than a double vodka, simply eyeballing the amount of alcohol he wanted in his drink and YN couldn’t help but laugh at how his glass was practically more than half mixer and half booze. Following suit, without a care in the world on how much Southern Comfort she tipped into her used cup because she felt she’d gotten to that point of the night where the taste of alcohol had disappeared, pouring lemonade on top and watching as the bubbles almost fountained down the side.

And yet she couldn’t help herself, once she grasped her drink in her hand, from looking over her shoulder to see if Arthur wanted another beer opened. A peace offering, if you will, to clear the air between them and start fresh. She hadn’t seen him get up all night, nursing the same bottle of Peroni for over an hour and a half, and she was certain it was probably warm and very flat and not so pleasant to enjoy. Except her eyes landed on an empty sofa cushion, where he once sat, with his unfinished Peroni bottle forgotten about on the coffee table.

"Where did he go?"

Chris shrugged, "forget about him for the moment. Can we, at least, go and have a dance or something then? if you won't play a drinking game, at least have a boogie? This is so unlike you, YN. You’re usually the life of the party."

"I might go and see if I can find Arthur first," she stated and she turned back to look at him, a pang of guilt bouncing around in her chest when she saw Chris’ face drop with sadness, "I’m only going to see what's wrong with him. Maybe I can coax a smile off of him, get him to come out and have some fun. It doesn’t feel the same without him here. He needs to be here."

She turned away from the counter and stepped in the direction of the fridge, which was once filled with beer and chilled ciders as opposed to its usual job of chilling their day-to-day food, and pulled out a fresh, cold bottle of beer in her free hand, uncapping it with a bottle opener before worming her way through her friends, insisting she'd be back in a moment when they asked her to join in with them. With Sabina trying her hardest to pull her in the direction of the excitement, and George looking at her with a pleading look because he needed help in the game he suggested they play, and she could feel Chris following her until he took the empty seat beside Arthur Hill and tried his best to fit in to the game that must have been near completion.

Her feet took her towards the small hallway that led to the bedrooms of the flat, stepping foot in front of the door that was opposite to hers and tapping her knuckle against the wood softly, tentatively calling out his name at a volume he should have been able to hear her.

"Arthur?"

She used her elbow to push on the handle so the door would open and, to no surprise, she found him sitting on the edge of his bed. His phone had been chucked in a frustrated throw, by the looks of how and where it had landed on the mattress beside him, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands with his fingers digging deep into his eyes as the silence of his room was broken by her voice.

"Arthur, are you okay? You’ve been-"

"I’m fine."

It wasn't said maliciously but it had been said with a tone that felt harsh, snapping at her suddenly and it took her aback, the look on his face stern and unhappy and it dawned on her that she must have done something to upset him for him to speak in such a way. And she wanted to find out what so she could live with him (as well as George, Chris and Arthur Hill) with no animosity in the air to bring the mood down.

She stepped further inside his bedroom with a plan on breaking the barrier he had built to keep her away because she wanted to work things out, right then and there, kicking the door shut with her heel and hearing it click closed at the door frame.

"Something is wrong with you, Arthur. You’re bringing the enjoyment of the night down."

"Then go back out there and leave me alone. I didn’t ask for you to come and find me, YN."

His words hung heavy in the air and YN took a deep inhale of breath, trying not to let his mood and his words derail her on her plan to get him to come out and enjoy the celebrations happening on the other side of his bedroom door. Because she wanted him to come back out to enjoy everything with everyone, she wanted him to partake in celebrating this new venture for her and for the friends she was moving in with, she wanted Arthur back to his usual self. The anger in his words, the tone that wasn’t his usual tone, struck her inside and she could feel her heart beating heavy and fast behind her ribs, yet she held her ground.

"I don't want to go back out there whilst you’re so upset," she insisted, holding out the beer for him to take, "I brought you a Peroni in, a fresh one, because George is necking them like there's no tomorrow and they’ll-"

"I don't want it."

"At least-"

"YN, I said no," he grumbled lowly and looked at her properly, brown eyes dark and his jaw was tense, her eyes widening ever so slightly at his attitude, "go back out there with Chris. I’m sure he's wondering where you are."

YN scoffed heavily and shook her head in disbelief, setting the opened beer bottle down on the desk before placing her own cup next to it, stepping towards him and he stood up from the bed to move away from her. Shaking her head at how his assumptions - his silly and stupid guesses - had brought out a side that no one had ever seen come from Arthur.

"Is that why you're angry with me?"

"What?"

"You’re angry with me because I’ve spent more time with Chris tonight than you? Because I'm having a good time with him at my own moving-in party?" She questioned him and his eyes sporadically darted around his bedroom so he didn't have to look in her direction, chewing on the inside of his cheek because she could see right through him and he didn’t want her to know that… because, of course, she was right. "I’m right, aren't I? You’re jealous?"

"I’m not," he hissed, "I just don't feel like I’m in the partying mood."

"Rubbish, Arthur. That is total bollocks," YN cried out, "you were raving on and on and on about this party the other day. You went out and brought all the booze for us. The food. You were the most excited out of all of us to welcome me into this flat."

"Yeah, well… I guess things change, YN."

"Not as drastically as you’ve just changed over your stupid assumptions," she fired back at him in a tone that almost matched his, yet she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him so harshly, placing her hands on her hips and popping a hip, "Arthur, come on. what's the matter?"

The silence of the bedroom was thick with tension. Suffocating. Thick enough to be cut with a butcher's knife. And she could feel it as she stood and waited for an answer to roll off of his tongue. An answer that would come out sounding like an excuse as to why he wanted to hide away from everyone, with a frown pinching the features together on his face to accompany how he felt, instead of enjoying the party with all his friends as they celebrated this new venture they were about to embark on.

His heart was pumping behind his ribs, his hands turning into fists on either side of his body, and it took everything within him not to grab her face and project his feelings through the form of physicality rather than verbally, a desire to cover ravenous kisses along the expanse of her neck, showing her just what the problem was.

Because she was the problem.

He hated the way she had taken Chris up on his offer on going out for dinner before they joined in with the party later on that evening and he hated the way she was so excited to go out with him and how it was all she went on about for most of that day. He hated the way he had to help her choose an outfit to wear because she couldn't decide what looked better on her and he hated how she'd been around his friend all evening as opposed to hanging around with him. He hated how she made no effort to keep him included, how he wasn’t a priority during the night, how she seemed to be much happier talking to Chris than she had ever been with him.

Which, if you asked YN, she would retort because of how ridiculous he sounded.

She didn’t think of it as a date and Chris had made it clear that it was just “lunch with a friend” to welcome her into the flat and explain how it was going to be the craziest path she’d gone down, and nothing but that.

"Fine, you want to know?"

She nodded with no hesitation.

"You."

"Me?"

She pressed a hand to her chest and he could see the hurt in her eyes as she looked at him, her lips parted and her cheeks bright pink once she managed to look at him, her eyes beginning to water at each of the corners yet she refused to let any of her tears fall down her cheeks because he didn’t deserve them. In that moment, he was acting like an ass and she hated the man that was standing before her, glum and in a mood that had ruined what had been a good day.

He didn’t deserve the attention was giving him… yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn on her heels and walk out the door.

"Yes," he said, "you. You've been the problem the whole night. In fact, all day. You've been a problem all day."

"What did I do?"

Her voice was shaky and she didn’t think she could trust herself to say anything in fear she let her true feelings come clear for him. Keeping her words short, to the point and brief, because she could feel the lump in her throat beginning to burn, making it hard to swallow and making her head ache. The tears built up more and more as it became tougher to hold them back and he could see them glistening underneath the bedroom lighting. He could see the upset he was causing yet he couldn’t stop himself from carrying on.

"Is Chris the reason you moved in with us? Because you just want to be near him all the time? You crave the male attention so much that you took us up on our offer so you could be closer to him?" Arthur questioned her intensely and she gasps, breath catching in her throat and she gulps back what she wanted to say, "I get the feeling, after today, that you love the attention he's given you."

"Arthur-"

"No, it’s my turn to speak since you wanted to know what the problem was," he held up his arm and lifted his finger to his lips for her to keep quiet, "all night, you've been hanging off of him. Standing with him, barely leaving his side, letting him get you drinks. You have other guests here and you choose to stand with him all night."

"He's my friend-"

"That’s total bollocks," he mocked her and she frowned heavily at him, "friends don't go out for romantic dinners. Friends don't touch each other's knees. Friends don't go to a party and pretend to be the only ones in the room."

"I-"

"You’re oblivious to everything, YN.”

He paused, and he really wanted to stop himself from talking because he couldn’t bear to look in her teary eyes for any longer and shout at her as he tried to navigate through his thoughts and his feelings and the emotions that came with it. And it dawned on him, in that moment, that he’d definitely taken it too far…

“YN, you’re oblivious to me."

He swallowed thickly and, in that moment, he took in the look on her face that he really wished he hadn't seen. The way her eyes glistened under the gentle light of his room, the way she picked at her fingers as she tried to busy her mind, the way she stared at the ground once she saw him looking at her and not in the direction of his face.

"YN-"

"No, Arthur, please carry on," she whispered, "tell me how much of a slag I am for the male attention. Specifically from a man I have no interest in."

"I never called you a slag, for god sake," he said, rolling his head back and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning heavily in annoyance, "YN-"

"I wasn't trying to be a problem for you, Arthur. I didn’t think anything of it. Me and Chris, it was nothing. We never went on a date and nothing happened tonight. Whatever you think happened, it didn’t," she looked up from the carpet and took a look at his features, his eyes softer than they were before and he looked almost apologetic, "I don't like him like that."

"You really could have fooled me," Arthur grumbled and she rolled her eyes at him, "seriously."

"He’s fresh out of a relationship, Arthur. I don't think he's looking for anything," YN said, "I wouldn't do that to Shannon anyway. It’s girl-code not to go for a friend's ex-boyfriend. It’s not right and I’m not going to ruin a friendship for a man who has been my friend for years."

He perched himself back down on the edge of the bed, just inches from where he had sat before, and let his back fall against the mattress with a heavy groan releasing from deep within his gut. Almost sounding embarrassed for jumping the gun, for assuming, for not being a grown man and, instead, acting like a schoolboy who had just had his heart broken by his first crush. And as much as she wanted to sit beside him, to calm the atmosphere down and to give him an understanding explanation that was a lot more chilled out now they’d taken a moment to breathe, YN couldn't help but stand and watch him as he covered his face with his hands. She felt nervous just standing in the middle of his bedroom, unsure of whether she should leave him to wallow in self-pity or stay and work things through with him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"If you weren't so anti-social tonight and kept yourself away from the party, you would have realised that me and Chris were talking about you," YN broke the silence, taking slow steps towards to where he was sprawled out on his bed and sitting herself down beside him, her thigh connecting with his, "I was talking about you, Arthur. Because I care about you, you’re probably my best friend out of the four of you living here, and me and you… we were so excited to finally be living under the same roof. I wanted you out there, I wanted you next to me and in the conversation so I could talk to you."

He refused to look at her, burying his head further into the palms of his hands because the more she spoke, the worse he felt. She wrapped both her hands around his wrists to pry them both from his face, revealing the guilty look that pinched his features together once he’d realised he’d overreacted over something that he’d created in his mind. His eyes stayed trained upon his ceiling, as much as he wanted to look at her and take in her appearance, because he knew he’d cave once he made eye contact with her. She let go of his wrists and he clasped his hands together and rested them on his chest.

"Why?"

"Because it felt weird that you weren't involving yourself like you normally do. I wanted you to come and enjoy the party with us," YN admitted, "with me."

"You could have invited me over," he grumbled and, eventually, he shifted his vision and looked at her, his eyes no longer looking dark and were filled with a little more emotion, soft and sweet and like his usual self, "I’m sorry. I guess I got a little jealous."

"A little?"

"Okay," he puffed out a breath and laughed softly and she smiled, watching as he sat himself up and twisted his body around so he could look at her face-on rather than with a craned neck to the side, "a lot. I got jealous and let it come between us."

"I don't like Chris like that. He's my friend. Now my roommate. I don’t want him. But, you," she took both of his hands in her own and squeezed them tightly with her fingers, letting her thumb brush over the skin just below his knuckles, "you're just something special, Arthur Frederick. You have me intrigued."

The way his full name rolled off of her tongue erupted something inside of him that felt volcanic hot and he longed to hear it again.

"How so?"

"I want to explore you," she brought her bottom lip between her teeth and she chewed on the soft and pink flesh and he could have sworn his cock twitched in his trousers at the momentary look she gave him as she gave her lip a nibble, "all of you, Arthur. I want you. I don't want anyone out there. I don’t want Chris. I want you. I’ve always wanted you."

"Then have me," he whispered, low and raspy and the way his breath fanned across her face made her feel weak at the knees and she knew she would have fallen to the floor if she was standing so she was thankful for the soft material beneath her that kept her a little more stable in the situation, "I'm all yours, YN."

And that’s all it took.

The party outside the door faded away and the space between them became minimal and, as their breaths mixed together, he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks perfectly in his palms, bringing her closer in hopes to close off the gap between their bodies and not just their lips, hastily and quickly in a kiss that the two of them had longed to endure for a while. His lips tasted like beer whilst hers tasted like lemonade and a hint of whiskey from the Southern Comfort liquor she’d been sipping on all night, his favourite taste on someone who’d become his favourite person, and it only enticed him to deepen their kiss. Her arms hung around his neck, fingers clasping around the hairs at the nape of his neck, to encourage the encounter happening between them to become more lust-filled, more deeper.

“Are you sure about this?”

She felt her back hit the mattress as they shuffled into a more comfortable position on the bed, her head sinking into the pillow that cradled from her neck and up, and it wasn’t long before the view of the ceiling was intercepted by his face and her breath hitched in her throat. His hair fell over his forehead, eyes drunk on the sight of the girl he’d been longing for beneath him, forearms placed either side of her head and he used his upper body strength to prop himself up above her.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, her resolve staying calm and steady and unwavering as the moment presented itself perfectly, “so sure.”

She brought his head down to her level using the grip she had clasped into his hair and their lips joined together in yet another devouring kiss, his tongue on a mission for entry into her mouth, which made her stomach tingle and her fingers tighten around his hair. His tongue collided with hers, muscle fighting muscle, and she could see why he was so proud in telling the world that it was his strong muscle in his body. The atmosphere had changed from a suffocating and tense feeling where neither of them could bear to look at the other to a slightly more unbearable and suffocating sexual tension that felt like a scratch both of them needed to itch. His lips worked their way down her jawline, peppering wet and open-mouthed kisses across her skin, before his face disappeared into the crook of her neck. Slowly lowering his body upon hers, one knee keeping her legs from closing fully and one keeping him stable and holding some of his weight so he wasn’t squashing her. Nibbling at her flesh, sucking and leaving marks behind that he wanted everyone to see once they walked out of his bedroom, and deep down, he wanted Chris to see. In hopes that he’d get the hint that she was his and no one else’s. That she wanted him and had eyes for no one else. That their date, that she said wasn’t a date but was definitely a date in Chris’ eyes, meant nothing but lunch with a friend. That he was one of the reasons why she was now living across the hallway and not across the city.

The feeling of his stubble scratching at the skin of her neck brought goosebumps up on the surface of her arms, the way his weight situated upon her and the way his hands roamed her body sent a shiver down her spine, and the way she felt his breath fan across the skin of her exposed collarbone made her sink deeper into the mattress beneath her. Certain that she had melted into a puddle, much like a snowman melting on a warm winter’s afternoon. The noise of the party just outside his bedroom door went completely forgotten about. The muffled bass of the music pounding the walls, yet neither of them cared for the people out in the living room because they were too sucked in with being with each other.

It wasn’t long before she found her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, shoving the material off of his shoulders to reveal the sleeper build he kept from the internet, his body sitting up for a moment so he could shrug it off and throw it aimlessly in the room, going completely forgotten about for the moment, and landing in a place in his room that he didn’t really obsess over because he was desperate to get back to the taste of her. His hands repaying the favour as he slid his hands underneath the hem of her t-shirt and he used his wrists to slide it over her head, revealing the plump swells of her breasts decorated with a lavender laced bra that cupped them perfectly.

“I’d like to think you wore this for me.”

“How do you know I didn’t?” She whispered in response, unknowing of the ache in his belly that had started to form, “how do you know I didn’t anticipate this?”

She felt exposed as she lay beneath him, her chest on full show, as he looked like a hungry schoolboy drinking in her appearance in a fantasy he dreamt about too frequently. The only piece of clothing still attached to her body being the ripped jeans that gave less to the imagination; hanging loose around her hips with a slight rip at one knee and a gaping hole on her opposite thigh that ran down to her other knee.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted, leaning back as his fingers worked on undoing the button of his trousers and it enticed her to do the same, toying with the button of her jeans so she could give him the opportunity to pull them free from her legs, “I’d have made a move sooner if I wasn’t so stupid in my feelings.”

“You weren’t stupid, you idiot,” she rolled her eyes at his dramatics and watched as he pushed away from her body and back onto his knees, awkwardly shuffling out of his trousers and kicking them off the edge of the bed, letting them fall in a heap at his bedside and revealing the hardening bulge that stretched his boxers to accommodate his throbbing and pulsing cock. She felt herself tingle between her legs at just how he was feeling in the moment and she was glad he was eager for this to happen as much as she was, “we don’t need to dwell on that now, right? Don’t ruin the moment, Arthur. Not now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, digging his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and giving them a tug to reveal the matching, lavender-laced pair of knickers that matched her bra, “christ.”

“Come on, silly boy, what are you waiting for?”

She lifted her legs and watched as he pulled the denim from over her ankles, tossing them behind his head and she watched as the material nearly wiped his desk clean, knocking over his pen pot that spilled over his desktop. Something he could worry about once the morning came along. He didn’t seem to care, though, as he pressed his face into the flesh of her stomach and let his mouth drag across her skin. Skin that was so soft and so smooth against his stubble-dusted cheeks and, with a deep inhale, she smelt like the coconut shower gel that lingered in the steam of the bathroom after she was finished with her shower. Her fingers combed his hair as his curled into the elastic of her knickers, pulling them free from his skin having left tiny indentations upon her hips, as she couldn’t have anticipated the moment more.

“Fuck the foreplay, Arthur.”

“But-”

“I need you.”

It came out as a beg and she didn’t care how pathetic or needy she sounded to him. She was desperate to feel him slide between her dampened walls, that were calling out for him, screaming to feel satisfied by his touch. As much as she wanted to be devoured by his mouth, she just needed to feel something better. Arthur's eyes darkened with desire at her words and he paused for just a moment, searching her face to make sure she was certain. And, when she gave him an eager nod of encouragement and gave him the answer he was hoping for, he wasted no more time.

“Another time then,” he grumbled with a rasp in his throat, “trust me, I’ll have you on my tongue next time.”

That made her feel giddy.

Next time.

Oh, there was definitely going to be a next time.

There was no way she wanted this to be a one time, drunken night spent with him after a silly argument where they had finally confessed a tiny inkling of their feelings towards each other. She was obsessed with his touch, his stare, the way he focused his attention on her in a room and she was under a spell when he had her right where he wanted her. A spell cast upon her, and only her, when he spoke so eloquently and intriguingly.

The room was spinning and she felt even drunker; maybe the many Southern Comfort’s she’d necked prior to this moment, in the kitchen mixed with dribbles of lemonade, didn’t help but he definitely had a way with words that made her knees- no, her entire body, go weak.

��We’ll have to see how well you do here,” she grinned cheekily and he shook his head in amusement, “don’t make me wait any longer, Arthur. I need you.”

And he obeyed.

She watched him intently as he dug his hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and pulled them down to the tops of his thighs, wrapping his fingers around the girth of his length and giving himself a couple of pumps with his wrist before he situated himself above her. He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly pushed inside her, wanting to watch every emotion that tore through her body, eliciting a soft gasp from between her lips as she welcomed him into her warmth. The feeling of him stretching her, filling her completely, had her insides burning with ecstasy. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his size, waiting for her to give him the go ahead to continue.

"You okay?" he whispered, his face inches from hers, “tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

YN nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer, gulping back the moan that was bubbling to escape, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep her volume at a level that kept their escapade a secret.

"Perfect," she breathed out slowly, “it feels perfect.”

Arthur started to move, setting a steady rhythm as he rocked his hips against hers, and YN clung to his shoulders tightly. Her nails digging into his skin as pleasure coursed through her body, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indents in his skin, decorating his shoulders with a mark of the satisfaction she was feeling. Their lips meeting, again, in a passionate kiss that muffled their moans as the party continued just outside the door.

"Fuck," Arthur groaned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers as he bottomed out and let the pleasure take over his entirety, "you feel amazing."

YN wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as she adjusted to his size. After a moment, she rolled her hips experimentally, urging him to move and he took the hint and began to thrust, starting with slow, deep strokes that had YN arching her back in pleasure.

"More," she panted, digging her nails into his shoulders, "faster, Arthur."

He obliged, picking up the pace and angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside her with each thrust. The room filled with an array of sounds; the sloppiness of his thrusts as he pleased her with his throbbing length, the heaviness of his breathing that escaped from his parted lips as he gave her exactly what she wanted with an amount of effort that he hoped was enough to show her how much he longed for what was happening, the sultry moans and appraisals that flowed off her tongue each time he managed to press at her internal buttons that had her squirming beneath him and gripping his skin tighter. The pounding of the bass music happening just outside the door getting even more muffled by how they weren’t holding back on keeping non-verbal.

He could feel the knot in his stomach unravelling every time she tightened her walls around him and, in his own clouded mind, he was hoping she was getting as close to a climax as he was. His thumb rubbing circles beneath her clitoral hood and her hands came up to hold either side of his face, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Please,” he whispered softly down to her, “do it with me, yeah?”

She nods in response and gulps back the thick lump in her throat, his thumb working harder on rubbing continuous circles on the small ball of nerves between her folds, her legs quivering around his hips and he could feel the way the hold on his face was loosening around his cheeks. Moan after moan after moan escaping her gaping mouth and her hands come down to cover her eyes, feeling the white hot and piercing knot in her stomach screaming out to loosen up, her toes curling as she allowed herself to lose control and release all the built up tension in her body that came with the pleasure he was applying to tiny bundle of nerves. His orgasm soon followed suit, painting her stomach with his release, his groans becoming slightly more guttural and raspy and she combed her fingers through his hair as he dribbled the last few drops onto her skin.

He fell on the bed beside her, adjusting his boxers so he maintained a slight amount of modesty, gulping back the dryness in his throat that made him crave that Peroni she had entered his bedroom with. Her heavy breathing made her chest rise and fall, his own chest falling rapidly rhythmically, and their elongated heavy exhales were the only thing that kept the room from complete silence - that and the music coming from the speakers in the living room… and oh boy, were they glad of that because it saved an awkward conversation once they left the room to join the rest of their friends.

“What do we do now?”

“I think,” he paused for a moment…

… and YN thought it was to add some effect to the words he wanted to say yet in his own mind, that was still clouded and fuzzy from the post-orgasm feeling, he wasn’t entirely sure what their next move was. He was still trying to find the words to explain how he had longed for the moment where he got to kiss her, how he wanted to hold her, how he had thought about the kind of intimacy they brought to the bedroom.

“I think we get you cleaned up first and then we go from there,” he laughed and she suddenly felt a little dirty. Not that it was a dirty act or anything but it was made more apparent to her that what had happened had actually happened and it wasn’t a dream or a daydream, “yeah?”

She hid her face in the crook of his neck and nodded gently, a slight wash of embarrassment wavering over her as she tried to ignore how she was covered in the ending of his arousal, and felt his lips press against her hairline.

“But I think we figure out the next move together,” he suggested, craning his neck so he could look down at her, her forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and her eyes were glossed over, yet they held a form of passion that had his tummy tingling and had him unable to look away, “there’s no denying what just happened. We might as well see what happens next.”

“But what does it mean for us?” She wondered curiously, a hint of hope in her words that his next sentence was going to be something she wanted to hear, “what do we figure out together?”

“I think we give it a shot,” he said, “I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever. And I’m game to try us out if you are.”

There’s a silence that falls around the room, broken ever so slightly by a brief cheer of appraisal at the change of song happening out in the living room area, and he doesn’t need to hear her verbal answer to his question. The gentle squeeze she gave him, from the arm draped over his hip, was all he needed to know she was game for whatever life threw at them next.

“I’m glad you didn’t stay mad at me,” she whispered softly, looking up at him as he looked down at her, sweat covering his skin and his fringe sticking to his forehead, “you’re the last person I want to upset, Arthur. Ever.”

“You didn’t upset me,” he responded, a lopsided smile on his lips that was full of tiredness but complete euphoria, “it was me that upset me. My own fault for being jealous and blinded by my own assumptions, I guess. I never actually bothered to know the truth and I should have just grown up and told you how I felt from the beginning.”

“I might have to make you jealous a bit more often,” she giggled softly, placing her hand flat against his stomach, “I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had. With anyone.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he snorted out a laugh and stretched an arm out around her shoulders and pulled her closer into his side, “do you think we can enjoy this moment a bit longer or should we go and show our faces out there?”

“Soon,” she closes her eyes in content and lets out a heavy, happy and satisfied sigh, “let's just enjoy this moment for a little bit longer. Let them wonder.”

if you got this far then thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this one as much as i enjoyed writing it... it's definitely one i'm proud of! my inbox is always open, too, so feel free to send in some ideas and flood my messages with stuff you guys wanna talk about! x

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sweetbans29 · 7 months ago

Text

Mia Bella - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin meet at the dog park :)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Here's a cute one for you - I honestly just love the thought of meeting outside of basketball and then having mutual support of one another. Ugh - I digress.

6 weeks. 6 weeks was all your summer at home consisted of before having to head back to school to start pre-season training. You play volleyball for UCLA which had you back in SoCal starting in the middle of July. Your love for playing outweighed your disgust for such a short summer but 6 weeks felt like nothing.

Your favorite part of being home was getting to spend all the time in the world with your baby, Mia. Mia is a six-year-old, beautiful aussie who has been your best friend ever since she was a puppy. She is your favorite reason to come home for the summer. She provided the rest you needed from training while keeping you out in the sun. And this summer you were extra excited.

The city had just put in a new dog park right down the street from your house that had triple the space than any of the parks within a 10-mile radius from you. The only plan you had was to take her there daily. You knew she wasn’t going to complain about that - it was a long-standing summer tradition for the two of you.

You got home on a Friday night and first thing Saturday morning was taking Mia to the park. You grab you both water, her ball, and a blanket and put it in a bag with some snacks (some for you and some for her). You grab Mia’s leash and next thing you know you are off to the park.

It’s a beautiful day. Mia makes a b-line to the park as your dad had been taking her since it opened. You get to the park right around 9 and find a nice place to set up your blanket. You set everything down and take Mia off her leash, she immediately gets the zoomies and you run around with her. You grab her ball and begin to play fetch.

If there is anything Mia loves more in this world than you, it is playing fetch. She would play all day if someone was willing to throw the ball to her. As you are throwing the ball with her you see another pup come and join Mia. A beautiful golden joins in with Mia - never stealing the ball but just happy to have someone to run around with. Mia drops her ball and the two dogs begin introducing themselves. The golden comes your way to get some pets and seems so excited to find another friend, even if you aren't four-legged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see another 2-legged friend come jogging your way. You get up from the squat you were in to give the pups some love and give a little wave to the girl coming up.

"I am so sorry," she begins but you immediately wave her off.

"Please don't apologize, your pup is a sweetheart," you say as you continue to love on her pup. "What is their name?"

"Bella," the girl says. "My sweet Bella."

"It's so nice to meet you, Bella!" You say as you give her ear scratches. Your dog then goes up and looks for pets from the Bella's owner. "That is Mia," you say signaling to your baby.

Once a moment passes, you realize you haven't introduced yourself and extend your hand to do so. She shakes your hand with a smile and tells you her name is Caitlin.

"Well it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Caitlin," you say with a smile. “I’ve caught a few of your games last season - your game is strong.” It’s her turn to smile after you give the compliment.

You invite her to sit while your pups run around. The two of you begin to get to know one another. You learn that she’s played basketball her whole life and that she had to play on the boys' team while she was in elementary. Following that - she was chosen to play for Team USA when she was in high school. As she was talking about playing, it was really neat to hear how much she loves the sport but is still able to separate her game from who she knows she is. Sitting there listening to her, it feels like she has opened a door to her soul- her genuine self. Your heart was instantly hooked.

As she kept talking, it felt like everything in the world melted away - she could talk you into circles and you would follow her anywhere. She talked about how she wanted to go to UConn but they never reached out to her. The coach never came to any of her games and the school never contacted her family. She ended up going to Iowa which meant she was close to home and her family could come and watch her play whenever. She talked about how that affected her in a way she wouldn’t have expected at the time but was for the better. You don’t know what it was but it felt like she was telling you things she hasn’t told anyone.

After she finishes talking about basketball, she starts to talk about how she was born and raised here. She talks about her two brothers and how competitive she was and still is. She talks about how there wasn’t much time for anything outside of basketball. Not that she regretted missing out on things like prom and dating.

When it was your turn, you talked about how you had a very similar background but instead of basketball, it was volleyball. You grew up playing from a young age and are now playing D1 volleyball at UCLA which is a little further from home than you hoped. You talked about how your family travels to come see you as often as they can but it never feels like enough. You talk about how you don't really know what you want to do after playing in college - you have thought about coaching but haven't figured it out yet.

Continuing, you talk about your family and how you are an only child but always wanted siblings growing up. You talk about how nice it was to go to college away but how much you missed the Midwest and look forward to coming back after you graduate. You relate to her in how time outside of sports had you missing things that felt like a right of passage but never really minded it. You were lucky to always have friends on the teams that you played on - they kept you going.

Before the two of you know, it is already mid-afternoon. Both of your pups are napping next to one another like they have known each other their whole lives.

"How long are you home for?" Caitlin asks.

"I have about 6 weeks before having to head back for training. It's not much but it is better than nothing," you say, giving a half smile to your new friend.

"Dang, that feels like nothing," she says with a little laugh. "Do you have any plans?" She asks, hoping that this is just the start of a new friendship rather than a one-and-done thing. She had shared more with you in the last few hours than she had with most people in the first month.

"The only set plan I have is to bring Mia here as much as possible," you say with a smile. "If you aren't super busy, you should join! You and Bella of course," you follow up.

"It's a date," she says giving you a smile. Your cheeks start to heat up, smiling back.

The next few weeks were some of the best you have ever had while being home for the summer. Caitlin and you had spent every day at the park, bringing your dogs of course. Some days you would both bring a book and read, others you would end up talking the whole time. It was really nice to have someone to spend time with while you were home.

Getting to know each other at the park is what brought you to her house today. As you get out of your car, you see her come around the house and wave. You give her a wave back as you grab your things. You don't know how it happened but one day at the park you brought up how her shooting from the logo and how you couldn't shoot a basketball to save your life. She promised she would teach you before the summer was over.

So here you are, about to make a fool of yourself in front of one of the best women college players and there was nothing you could do. You walk over to her and give her a little hug.

"Are you ready to learn how to shoot?" Caitlin says with excitement. Her excitement is contagious.

"As ready as I will ever be!" You say with a chuckle, Caitlin's cute when she is excited.

The two of you stretch and she goes on about how she knows you will be a natural...or so she hoped.

You always love to prove people wrong, usually, it is those who are telling you that you can't do something. This time around, you wish you could prove her right because it was quite embarrassing.

"Well that was terrible," she says with a laugh. Both of you are lying on the ground in her home gym as you have just spent the last two hours trying to do anything that resembled basketball.

"I feel like that doesn't do justice to what I am capable of athletically. If you really want to see what I can do, you would come to one of my games," you say with a laugh.

"I would love to see you play," she says, turning her head to look at you. "Maybe someday we can make that happen."

Looking back at her you reply, "I would love that Cait."

"Then I'll come watch you play," you say with a smile. She smiles in response and scoots a little closer.

"Can I tell you something?" She asks. You nod, turning to face her. The ground wasn't the most comfortable thing, but you wanted to provide her your full attention.

"I am really glad our dogs met that day in the park," she begins, not really making eye contact with you. "I wasn't super excited about coming home for the summer but meeting and getting to know you has changed that. I am really glad we met. talking to you and laughing with you has brought me joy and I want to continue talking even when you go back to California. I don't want to not talk to you...or see you because well, I like you. I like you a lot. And I don't really know what to do with how much I like you because this is all new to me and..." You grab her hand and give it a squeeze. She finally looks up at you.

Her hand comes up to your face, her fingers brushing against your cheek. Her eyes look at your lips as she begins to lean in.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she says just above a whisper, as her face inches closer to yours. You shake your head no as you close your eyes, waiting to feel her lips.

The kiss is simple. It is slow, just getting to know what the other feels like. Once she breaks away, you place your forehead against hers.

"I like you too," you say with a smile.

AN: Finally a shorter one, we are working on it. I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #22 #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb

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volturiprincess · 9 months ago

Text

Little Brother

Paul Lahote x fem reader

Summary: reader has a little brother who is a shifter Warnings: some angst, I think there were some curse words A/N: So this was a request, sorry it took a while to get this out but school comes first ☺️. if anyone has a request, don't hesitate to ask me, I am open in doing them. There will be a second A/N in the end. Word count: 2k+

Researching for colleges is such a pain in the ass, why am I doing this again? Oh yea I want to be a Doctor, more specifically a Physician. I have been in my room for over 3 hours already looking at different pamphlets of schools that have caught my eye. I have a little brother to take care of so I have been looking at schools near La Push but there are not a lot of schools that have the program I am interested in. And little old me decided to also graduate from High School one year early so that I could have a gap year to save up money and to visit different universities. I've been dragging my little brother with me to these college visits for the reason we are close and I don't like going alone on these visits.

We are only 3 years apart but I still treat him like a small child, even if he is already slightly taller than me. I heard a sudden knock at my door and called out for them to come in. I sat up from the floor and saw my little brother walk in

“Hey Oli, what's up?”

“I just came to check on you, I haven't seen you in like days already and you missed dinner”

“Shoot, sorry, I didn't even know so much time has gone by, I been trying to narrow down my choices in colleges down to 5 but it has been a struggle but I did eat a sandwich earlier”

He nods

“Why don't you take a break and we can go walk at La Push?”

My eyes widen at the mention of the beach

“Sounds like a plan bro, meet me outside in 10 minutes”

He rolled his eyes playfully but walked outside nevertheless. I stood off the ground and got somewhat ready, I just needed a sweater and shoes. I left my room and went outside where Oliver was waiting, we then started to walk to the beach, it was literally over the the treeline of where we live so it didn't take long. I have been coming to this beach since I was born, and when Oliver was born I made sure he came as frequently as I did or sometimes I would sneak at night just to come see the moon over the ocean.

As we arrived at the beach I saw a group of boys and knew right away who they were, Sam Uley's pack. I went to school with them. I even had a class with some of the members but they always seem to annoy me with their loudness so I personally decided to stay away.

As we were walking Oliver asked me

“Do you know those guys?”

“Yes I do, why do you ask?”

“Just asking, you always look at them like they killed your dog or something”

I laughed

“Well there are just rowdy boys, and that annoys me you know?”

We kept on walking until someone shouted out “HEADS UP '', I grabbed Oliver instantly and pulled him down and saw a football flying over us. I stood up and walked over to the ball and looked at where it came from and I stiffen up when I saw it came from the pack, I grabbed the ball and threw it back to them immediately. I could hear one of the guys shout back “THANK YOU” which I just responded with a hand signal and walked off with Oliver.

“You know I'm surprised you didn't do sports in high or middle school, that was one heck of a throw, the distance you threw was easily a whole football field”

I rolled my eyes but wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair

“Oh yea? Easily a football field? You need to go touch the grass more often then, but I do got to agree it was a beautiful throw, an old friend of mine and I would practice throwing either a football or baseball in the backyard”

“I remember that, I preferred to sit at the porch and read a book while you two played”

“Such a bookworm, you know thats suppose to be me right, the amount of books I have read so far in the 17 years I have existed would blow your mind”

Chuckling he answered

“I'll take your word on that”

—-------------------------------------------------------

Recently Oliver has been a bit distant with me, I thought at first it was just him being busy with school and his new job he told me he got recently but I hardly see him at the house anymore. I have approached him multiple times but his response is always “I'm just busy living my life”. He always says it in this tone that is just bland and he doesn't sound like himself. I know I've been busy with applying to colleges and stuff but he's been like this for a couple of months now. It also appears he's been getting into shape, not only has he gotten taller out of the blue but he has muscles now and on top of that he cut his beautiful thick locks. It makes me think that maybe there is a girl he likes and he wants to impress her or maybe there is something else. I wish he would come up to me but for now I am giving him his space and hoping he will come up to me when he is ready.

I decided to go take a walk at La Push beach to just clear my mind from the stress of life for a bit. It has been a while since I've been here and I kind wish Oliver was here with me. As I am walking on the sand, I see a group of boys all shirtless and with jorts on close by. I knew right away it was Sam Uley's pack but then I saw a familiar figure amongst them. My eyes widen and before I even think twice I shout out his name

“Oliver!”

I saw him turn his head to me slowly and his face reflects my current face. I felt slightly betrayed and went up to the group of boys and confronted my little brother.

“The hell are you doing with these guys Oliver, I told you to stay away from them”

Sam was the one who spoke up

“Miss why don't you relax and leave Oliver alone”

I snap my gaze to him

“Excuse me? You don't get to tell me what to do when it comes to my little brother, that is between me and him. Sir”

Oliver spoke up still with that same monotone voice

“Y/n just go home please, I will talk with you later”

I stared at him and then I saw something else I didn't notice earlier, a tattoo, the same tattoo that all of the other guys in this pack had. At that moment I had to bite my tongue so I didn't blow up on him in front of the guys so instead I nodded stiffly and walked away. So many thoughts started to flow through my mind; “why is he hanging out with older guys, more specifically why is he with those guys?” “Is that why he changed, so he could fit in with them or was he forced?” “What happened to that sweet boy who was scared of the lighting and would come to my room for comfort?”

I sat in the living room waiting for Oliver's arrival. I really wanted to blow up on him right there in front of the guys but why embarrass him like that, even if it was very tempting. I just realized I was addressed as “Miss”, I literally had a class with Sam and he sat right next to me and we were even partners once for a stupid math project. But what went totally over my head was a certain guy was watching intensely, he was looking at me like I was the only person alive. Before I could decipher this guy's name Oliver came into my view of sight.

I looked at him with narrowed eyes,

“So? Care to explain to me what I witnessed at the beach earlier? Or are you going to brush me off again like you have these past few months?

I saw for a moment he was hesitant but what he said next was expect

“You wouldn’t understand, they are helping me with stuff”

“Helping you with stuff? Like how to flirt with girls or how to be an idiot?”

“As I said you would not understand? How could you, you are only focusing on yourself and your future, I seen the pamphlets you been looking at, and they are all colleges far away from here”

I tried my best to be face to face with him but he is at this point he is a whole foot taller than me now

“For your information little brother, I have been looking at schools near here, why do you think it's been so hard for me to find the one, and for your information you think I am so self absorbed that I don't think about you? Why do you think you don't live with mom and dad? it's because they never paid attention to you or even cared to raise you, it was all ME who raised you. I am trying to work towards a good career so that I could give you a better childhood that mom and dad failed to give you.”

I didn't even know a tear spilled from my eye but I quickly wiped it away and stood my ground, but for some reason he huffed and stormed out of the house without giving me a second glance or anything. I stared at the door for a while until I decided to just drop this for now. Teenagers really are something else, I really wish I did have someone to confide in when I face these problems with him but there is nobody. I decided to just make dinner and call it a night already, if he does not want to talk with me then so be it.

—-----------------------

I was getting ready to go visit another college alone once again when I heard a knock at my front door. I went to it and did not expect to see Paul Lahote there. Secretly I thought he was pretty cute, even if he flirted with all the girls at school but I just admired him from a distance and in silence.

He was the one to speak first

“Can I have a quick word with you?”

“Yea sure, what's up?”

“It's about you brother”

My mood dropped at that moment

“What about him?”

“Are you familiar with the Quileute legends?”

I nodded with suspicion

“Yes i'm aware of them, but they are just stories”

I saw that look of hesitation once again, it was the same face Oliver did when I confronted him at home after the beach incident.

“Well, to some people it is but they are real you see, and your brother happens to be a shifter along with me and the other guys”

My hand went straight to the dorm frame to steady myself and Paul instantly went to a concerned stance.

“Hey you good?”

“You-your telling me, that my little brother who is 14, is a shifter, that the stories I grew up listening to are true and he didn't even tell me?”

He gave me a sheepish look

“Well the thing is, he couldn't tell you, it's a secret that is between the pack, it's to protect each other and not to reveal others our existence, can you imagine if others found out about us, the panic everyone would go through?”

I nodded since he did made a valid point.

“Yes well you have a point, but why are you telling me then, why not Oliver or Sam for instance?”

He scratched the back of his neck and he avoided eye contact with me. It's strange to see him like this, all flustered and nervous when I knew him as some cocky and flirty guy from High School.

“Well you see I um….. imprinted on you….”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“Imprinted on me? What the hell is that? And why me to be exact?”

“Well you see it's an involuntary mechanism that us shifters go through when we find out soulmates, we have no choice in who we get to imprint on, it just you know.......happens”

At the mention of soulmates my eyes widened in shock, the guy who I secretly liked but annoyed me at the same time is supposedly my soulmate. I always thought soulmates was an interesting topic hence my obsession with Greek Mythology and the topic that Zeus splitted people's souls in half and it was mortal's mission to find their other half. I looked back into his eyes

“Soulmates? That's insane”

He chuckled and teased in return

“Oh and not shifting to a big wolf is not insane, your brother definitely knew you would react like this”

“Well I have heard the legends for years, so it's not like `oh what the hell your mental” kind of situation, at least I knew some part of this, but soulmates? You got to admit that's something you don't hear everyday”

Rolling his eyes playfully he gave a me a smile that stopped my heart for a minute

“Fair but you're not too creeped out by this or have questions or whatsoever?”

I chuckled at his rambling but asked him

“Well now that you say that I think about 1 million questions came up, please don't tell me Oliver has found an imprint yet?”

“No he hasn't yet, he's still figuring this whole shifting and stuff”

I nodded along

“Good, Good, I don't think I would accept it right away thinking he found love so young, but I also wanted to thank you”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“For what?”

“You and the other guys probably were a great help to him with all of this, even if I was completely clueless to all of this, he was for sure scared and confused with all of this, wasn't he?”

He nodded

“Yea he was lucky me and Sam were close by, we heard a yell of pain and then a growl and well we knew what it was, we went up to him and calmed him down and then we explained everything to him”

When he said yell of pain, that hit me, as much as I might not tell Oliver directly that I love him, I do, I just show it a different way by being there and being his best friend. I looked up at Paul and hugged him tightly. I felt him stiffen from shock but eventually he wrapped his arms around me. He was so warm, even with the layers of clothing he had on, his heat was radiating through it to me. I felt him caressing the back of my head while I just had my cheek against his chest.

We pulled apart shortly after and I looking down mumbled

“I'm sorry for calling you and your pack a cult and annoying behind your back”

I heard him chuckling loudly and I looked up at him with a surprised look

“No need to apologize sweetheart, we know we are annoying and I could never be mad at you”

I rolled my eyes playfully but let out a breath of relief

“Is Oliver with the other guys?”

He nods

“I can take you to him, the cat is out of the bag already or this case the wolf is out of the bag”

I punched his arm playfully

“Your such a nerd”

He did a fake pout but smiled while offering his arm for me to take. He guided me to his car and we drove off to who knows where. We eventually arrived at a cabin in the woods and I saw a bunch of shirtless guys running outside of the house towards us. I spotted Oliver and ran into his arms and pulled him into a deep hug. He returned the gesture immediately and I felt some small tears spill

“I know everything, I'm sorry for blowing up on you”

He pulled away slightly to look at with slightly teary eyes

“It wasn't your fault y/n, it's mine, I just wished I could've told you about this but you know why I didn't, right?”

I nodded and wiped away his tears

“I'm just glad you didn’t have to deal with all of this alone” I turned to all of the guys “Thanks to all of you” they all nodded in a reassurance and some of them went back inside the house

“So Paul also told you about him imprinting on you?”

I nodded

“And he told me you have not found an imprint yet which is a relief, I don't think I would be ready to see you with someone yet, your just a little boy”

I ruffle his hair and he just chuckled slightly

“Im 14, almost 15, and I'm taller than you also”

I huffed at his response

“Well i'm older and more mature than you”

Paul came up to us,

“She's got you there dude”

I looked at Paul who winked at me and Oliver just groaned in disgust

“Can you not be like that in front of me”

“Hey! since I know about all of this, you will see more of me and Paul together”

He scoffed but then smiled

“Whatever, at least you won't be alone that often now”

Paul wrapped an arm around me and looked down on me

“She will never be alone”

My heart skipped a beat at his response

A/N: My third one-shot DONE. Anyways I will get to that extended version of that Felix drabble/random idea/ im not sure what to call it, hopefully I will get it down in the next couple of days. Plus I will work on another moodboard since its been a while.

#paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote imprint #twilight saga #wolf pack #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine

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iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ WHEN YOU ASK

tw. yandere, dubcon, threats, coercion, some degradation, dom/sub themes, humiliation, noncon voyeurism, former bullying mention, threesome-ish, crying, knife, choking wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by another amazing person ♡ thank you so much for the commission!! i hope you like this one and it lives up to your expectation and i !! ahHH i just always get nervous writing charas i haven't before but I had a blast! mwUah i hopeee you enjoy!!! kiSsES once again thankies to rhi for being best beta hehe

akashi seijuro x fem!reader

See, if someone asked, Mibuchi could say that he’s friends with you.

It wouldn’t be an outright lie -you’ve been in the same classes since middle school, he’s seen how you act around your friends and wave everyone goodbye with a smile- but maybe it isn’t exactly the truth either. Safer to say, Mibuchi knows of you. Would even call you an acquaintance of sorts, and he’s pretty sure you guys were sort of friendly when you were twelve and he sat next you in class for a good couple months — he might even have walked you home at some point.

You could have been friends, if he’d been a little less busy with basketball practice in middle and high school, a little less busy with the team. Because really, he’d have had every opportunity to. You were in the cheer squad for a couple years, and he’s pretty sure you were one of the girls who helped collect funds for the Rakuzan bus rides from and to tournaments- and you always seemed pleasant, kind. If he hadn’t been so focused on his sport career, he might’ve even had a bit of a crush on you.

Not that he plans on making up for it now, but it’s not hard to see or admit that you’re pretty stunning, you were back then— and you definitely are today. Perfectly manicured nails and beautifully glossy hair that makes you look full and warm and modelesque all at once. You shine. It’s hard not to notice someone like you whenever he sees you at their matches. He knows he’s not the only one. College jocks are hardly the picture of self restraint, and if you think signed athletes are any different, you’d be wrong. But all of that doesn’t really matter, because you don’t sit in the stands for him.

The redhead that he has spent the past few years playing alongside is lucky to call you more than friends. He respects Akashi. There’s almost no way around it when you play on a team alongside the guy, that pure, unfiltered resolve he has, and the steely brute force it sometimes takes the form of. Akashi wouldn’t exactly have it any other way too, and though that might get annoying if he were anyone else, Mibuchi isn’t arrogant enough to acknowledge that the guy plays best when he knows people he respects have his back. That type of world-class talent doesn’t come around a lot.

The redhead that has you sitting looking pretty in the stands is the same boy that’d shove you to the concrete in grade 2. The one he saw yank your pigtails and put glue in your backpack, isn’t he? The one who started the talk that you’d kissed a teacher under the bleachers, and stood by when Hayama stuck his hand up your skirt? Yeah, it’s probably because you aren’t friends that he doesn’t understand. All he knows is that kids grow up, and he respects the Captain.

So it’s because he respects Akashi that he finds himself in this situation, isn’t it?

You’re tiny. Well, everyone is sort of ‘tiny’ compared to most professional basketballers… but leaning against the concrete pillar with your perfect outfit and your arms wrapped around yourself, not a hair out of place - it is more vibes than actual appearance that makes you seem small. Compact, tiny, quiet, if he didn’t know any better, he’d liken you to a skittish little animal. You’re waiting, eyes scanning everyone briefly as they stream out. It’s sort of lonely looking, though. His head reminds him it isn't really his problem, but hey, it feels weird to pretend to not see you too.

And he supposes you are kinda friendly, right? As his long legs carry him through the sliding doors of the training center, he plops a sucker between his lips, glances over his shoulder and - makes the executive choice to walk up to you. If only to entertain you a little while Akashi takes his time running through the coaches’ comments, like he usually does. You blank when you notice him walk up, before doing a quick double take at the doors, and he takes the sort of deer-in-headlights look as a question on your end. “Akashi’s probably going to be a little bit longer, if I had to guess.”

“Oh. I see.” You let out a nervous little laugh, and wring your hands together, and he takes a brief second to look at you. Sure, he hasn’t exactly been very chatty when you’ve strolled in during practices with forgotten bento boxes, or when you sit at the very front row during matches with your perfectly presented exterior and a nervous glitter in your eyes, or even when it seems you’ve been dragged along to the teams events— but from what he knows of you… in the past, you’re not the shy little bunny standing before him now. It almost makes him a little self-conscious. Is it him that’s making you hesitate, or are you just… different now? People do change, after all. Still, it doesn’t seem… like change.

“I’m… Mibuchi, I was in the same class as you a lot growing up.” He finds himself explaining, in case you forgot. He wouldn’t exactly blame you if you did. If you managed to forgive and forget for Akashi, you could’ve forgotten most other things.

But you pause, and then your face softens into a slow smile. “I remember you, Reo-kun. We were desk mates in Ms. Tanaka’s class. You were always nice to me.” Right, with your high ponytail and cute bangs and your flowery frilly shirts. Thinking about it harder, he definitely did have somewhat of a crush on you back then. “It’s nice to get to talk to you again, it’s been so long.”

“You still like basketball, huh?” he asks, and you laugh and look at the floor, before nodding.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to meet his again. “Yes, I guess so. Don’t have much of a choice.” It lingers when your voice goes a little more quiet. Right. Because, your boyfriend’s a pro-athlete. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the games! It’s really nice to get swept up in the excitement of it from time to time.” You sound light, breezy … but almost mournful too. It’s somewhere in your eyes, your long lashes unable to hide the deepness of it. “Honestly, I can’t wait for the season to start again.” Another beat passes, before you seem to snap out of it, and refocus on him. “You’re still playing too.”

Whatever tension crept up in his shoulders doesn’t loosen when he grins. “Almost fifteen years now, can’t let that streak go to waste.” He sucks on the lollipop for a long moment, before tilting his head. “Besides, pretty sure Akashi wouldn’t let me.”

It cracks your carefully crafted expression. For a split second -surprising both himself and you, it seems, because then your smile is picture perfect again. The same perfect smile you give everyone when they say ‘hi’ and Akashi laces his hand with yours. Or when you blow back a kiss across the field. And see, he isn’t too concerned with people’s reactions, usually. But it’s so sudden that it feels … weird. Everything suddenly feels weird. You never wear Akashi’s jerseys, even when he stuffs them into your hand before matches. Not that you have to… it’s just, you used to be cheer captain. It seems like something you’d want to do.

That sits weirdly.

“You’re definitely right about that,” you agree, but the light of it doesn’t reach your eyes. Before he can think about it, the electronic doors slide open behind him— and as if you’re burned, you take a few steps away and into a new line of sight. “‘Juro, you’re back!”

“Why aren’t you waiting in the car, stupid?” is the first thing that comes out, reaching for you like you’re a lost child, as his mismatched eyes find Mibuchi. His face is perfectly blank of emotion as it always seems to be. “You guys were talking?”

Instantly, your eyes shoot up to his, and you seem to cling a little harder. “No! N-no, just… Mibuchi was waiting with me. We’re done.” You fiddle with the chain of your necklace when your boyfriend stays quiet and stares you down, searching for … a lie? An explanation? Whatever it is makes Mibuchi feel like he shouldn’t be watching. But he can’t pull away from the scene. His teammate eventually leans down to kiss you long and deep, and your shoulders drop a tad bit. Not enough to look relaxed.

“Hm.” If Akashi notices, he doesn’t mention it, and instead brushes his lips along your temple. “We should get home then. You look a little tired.” You don’t agree, but your feet start moving robotically upon the prompt, and the noiret takes that as the only clue he’s gonna get that the conversation is over.

“See you two next… practice,” he starts to say as you two walk off, but quiets down as you turn over your shoulder to look at him. There’s something off about your eyes. At least, he swears— there is. It makes him feel like he’s crazy. Because your pretty smile is right there, and you’re wrapping your perfectly manicured fingers around Akashi’s bicep.

The look doesn’t fade when Akashi simply nods, and ushers you along with a hand that lands in the dip of your spine. “Sure.”

The next time he sees you isn’t at practice. It takes him aback a little, putting the weights he was curling down to straighten up for a better view. You’re looking around like a lost puppy, and the reflection on the large glass panes boxing him off hides most of you from view, but sure enough- it’s you. Just you, once more, rubbing your hands along your arms as you wait in line for something.

It isn’t his business. It really isn’t, but- you didn’t show up to any of their matches or practices the last two weeks. Is it so strange that he’s sort of glad to see you alive and well? Not that he’d ever think badly of Akashi, but you’d been in such a bad mood when you left, and it just… didn’t seem right. He takes his water bottle to toss it onto his bag, before jogging on over out of the gates and around the corner right when you slip out of view. A few people walk around him, and he catches a brief look of your face as you hesitantly slip a card into the ATM.

Your hands are shaking. They’re shaking, and your lip is screwed between your teeth and… if it wasn’t you, he’d think you were doing something nefarious. “Hey,” he softly breathes as he walks up, and your jumpy squeak only makes him more uncomfortable.

Your eyes are so wide when you turn around. “Mibuchi! —Oh, Reo… it’s you.” The device behind you beeps. “Sorry, I,” your pretty face paints on a smile as you take out the money and slide it neatly into your purse, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to me.” There’s a moment of silence as he scans you up and down, and that horrible feeling drops back into his gut. He can’t help it, it’s laced in the air between you two, it’s on his tongue, it’s in your eyes when you blink up at him. “Reo? Are you- okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he nods, wiping his hands on his gym shorts. Is— should he say something? Is there something to say? It’s not like he can just … ask if you’re being treated badly. Hell- he’s been friends with Akashi since high school- he trusts the guy! There’s absolutely no reason he should be thinking like this. “You look beautiful,” he ends up blurting out, unable to think of anything else to say. “Me and the guys missed you at practice.”

“O-oh,” you giggle, and shake your head. “I was just a bit… busy at home, that’s all. I hoped Seijuro would’ve told you guys not to expect me.” Either you’re a really good actor, or some of your nerves slide off of you when you look up at him, and this time, he believes the smile. “But I guess I don’t have to tell you what he’s like, he isn’t really the talking type.” There’s a certain fondness in your eyes when you shrug. “You know, Seijuro bought me a ring five weeks into dating, when we were in high school. Said he knew what he wanted, and that he’d make me the happiest wife on the planet if I agreed.” You giggle. “At sixteen years old, he was already that way. I thought it was really romantic back then, his smittenness.”

This he remembers. Akashi talked about it in the locker room once, knowing you’d be cheering in the stands, he’s pretty sure he even showed off the ring despite the ridicule. Did you still wear Akashi’s jerseys back then? He can’t for the life of him figure out why he cares to remember so bad. Your tongue swipes out to brush your lips. “We’re a long ways out from high school now, huh?” Mibuchi’s hand twitches by his side as he watches the smile die out, but what the hell can he say. He wasn’t there for either of you, not really. If something did happen, would he even know?

His eyes sink down your face ever so briefly to your throat when you look off. There’s a mark purple and red where a necklace would have sat, bruised all around, and though faded- he stops smiling.

“What’s that?!”

You jerk away with an uncomfortable glance, and a shake of your head. Fuck, he wants you to say something. He wants you to tell him some stupid story about a rash or a tumble, to tell him to fuck off and leave you be, because it isn’t his business- but you don’t. Maybe he does consider you a friend. “Hey, if- you ever need anything,” need help, he wants to say, but the word doesn’t make it out of his mouth. “You just have to ask, you know?” He doesn’t exactly expect you to drop everything and beg for aid in the middle of Kyoto, but the pristine calm that washes over you is almost eerie.

Your eyes find his. “Well— I- I want to visit my mom.” The tremble in your voice is soft, but it’s there, squeezing your fingers a little tighter. “Can you drop me off at the nearest train station? Seijuro’s off on a little business trip today, and he’s got his car. I don’t really… want to wait until he’s back.” A nagging little voice in the back of his head tells him not to get involved.

But the voice isn’t loud enough. “Of course, yeah.”

Akashi’s passes are bad today. He’s been on edge seemingly all practice, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as he talks to the manager- and Mibuchi doesn’t feel entirely comfortable just walking up to him. They don’t have the friendship they did in high school, and though he still appreciates the guy, there’s a space there that wasn’t there before. As if on cue, the redhead’s eyes flick up and meet his, differently colored eyes scanning him up and down, and Mibuchi looks away. He doesn’t want to seem too interested in your business, he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t want him to be either— but he can’t exactly pretend not to be curious anymore. It’s basically leaking out of him onto the polished floor.

Did you get home okay after? Did you and Akashi talk? Did you fight?

The first hour results in a record of missed 3 pointers and shitty teamwork, so clearly the tension isn’t just in his head. Even their stern watcher of a coach eventually grits his teeth. “All of you, I want you to regroup before the end of the night, or I’ll have you dribbling until your arms fall off.” Everyone straightens out and gives a quick ‘yes, coach’. His eyes then slide to the Captain, and he crosses his arms. “Akashi, take a rest, you’re all over the place today.”

“You almost elbowed me in the face earlier, dude,” the shooting guard softly mumbles upon the prompt, and it’s barely a second before Akashi’s nose to nose with the man, his fist wound in the sweaty jersey by his throat. Everyone freezes up, and even the long-time coach is caught off guard by the sudden flare of anger. But Akashi doesn’t falter, and hisses out his words.

“Stay out of my fucking way then. This is my court, and you’re on my team. You serve me.”

The gruff older man stands up to separate the two with a short bark of the Captain’s name, as those devilish mismatched eyes flick up. “Akashi! Bench, now. You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll remain there.” It’s like there’s a black cloud over the entire gym that makes them hold their breath, until every so slowly, the fist unfurls and drops. The redhead doesn’t say another word, but his brows are just as furrowed as he steps back, and looks around. Those fiery eyes pass over Mibuchi just briefly, and he swears they stare a little longer than they should. “Now line up, you shitty little brats!”

“Yes, coach!”

Shoes squeak on the floor as they line up, and Mibuchi lingers on the interaction a bit longer. The shorter man catches the ball tossed at him, and slowly straightens up as he clicks his tongue. “Yes, coach.” He can’t shake the glare or the thinly laced impatience in his voice.

It displays almost three on the blinking alarm clock when the rattling at his door wakes him. There’s an impatient knock, and then another few ones about twenty seconds later that have him throwing the covers off. The house is as he left it for the night when he drags himself towards the entrance and waits for a moment longer, before a tiny sniffle catches him entirely off guard. It’s a woman. His tired mind still instantly comes upon you, and he unlocks the door when a hand again meets the wood.

The apartment light doesn’t fail him. It is you, though there’s a darkness under your eyes -smudged mascara- and your hands are bound before you, as you’re basically held up by your neck and you’re pushed into the doorway. Mibuchi stumbles as his hands land on your arms to stop your fall, and for a brief moment, everything seems okay.

Until the door is closed behind the three of you and the person who pushed glares with an anger that he can feel burn his skin. Akashi. The normally quiet, demanding Captain doesn’t have much of his usual restraint when he picks you back up by your arm and holds you out as if you’re a stolen toy— and he sneers as the hiss of his voice cuts. “You think I’m fucking stupid? I saw you looking at her all of last season’s practices. But she doesn’t actually want you, does she? She tried her very fucking best to run off, to no avail.” He briefly glares down at you when you whimper, and shake your head against the gag in your mouth. “Don’t pout, slut, you deserve to be punished. Don’t you think?”

You’re crying. Hard, a desperate, trashing cry that’s making his hairs stand upright. And he doesn’t think you could ever look ugly, but you’re definitely crying like you want the ground to swallow you up whole, and like the action of struggling this hard is causing you pain. “No, I don’t wanna.”

The entire scene doesn’t make any sense. Why are you — why is Akashi here? It fries his brain the longer he thinks, and his hands slowly slide off of your arms to take a tiny step back. “Captain…,” Mibuchi starts, reaching out to hold your hand. Akashi should let go of you. You’re hurt.

The movement has Akashi’s irises back on his teammate with fire, eyes wide and accusatory. “Move.” He takes you by your collar and drags you like you’re a kitten, before shouldering Mibuchi out of his own doorway to deposit you on the cold floor. It knocks him out of his daze enough to at least process the situation. This can’t be his former friend pulling something like this— but it’s playing out right before him. What the fuck? “I had to spend the entirety of yesterday driving up to Tokyo because of the stupid shit my flighty little wife pulled,” Akashi’s voice is tighter now, calmer, but not any less vicious as he watches you.

“Maybe if you get on your knees and beg my forgiveness, I won’t let everyone know what a fucking whore you are.” Through the gag, your muffled, pitched voice sounds out in the openness of his apartment. You look so pitiful, and Akashi’s not letting up as he grips your face to pull it only about an inch away from his own. “Apologize. You are mine. Doesn’t matter how far you run, you’re always going to be mine.” A thumb brushes along your cheeks to get rid of the silvery tracks. “I love you. You know I do.”

“You should let go of her,” his own voice comes before he has time to think it over. This situation is absurd, and he isn’t willing to just stand by to watch you get treated this way— at least, that’s until the other man turns to him and the brief moment of kindness is replaced by a darkness that flashes over his face.

The redhead’s hand disappears into his pocket, glaring at him from his elevated position in the baren light of the room. “Shut your fucking mouth, Mibuchi.” There’s not a sliver of familiarity left when he clicks his tongue, and like he’s the one who’s disgusted, narrows his eyes. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” The tense silence is only made more pressing by the way you give him those fearful eyes, shaking your head ‘no’ as the man before him steps a bit closer. “I am not here to ask your opinion… I’m here to punish her.” As he points in your direction, his hand comes out of his pocket with a knife, glittering brilliantly even in the dark, and is then aimed towards him. Your pinched crying starts up again when he pulls your head up by your hair, and Akashi raises an eyebrow.

“You think you’re the first with notions of heroism? This brat runs like it’s a hobby. You’re not special.” His eyes burn. “If I hear you talk to me again, I’ll hurt her,” he breathes, deathly serious as he turns to you, “and if you don’t obey, I’ll hurt him, okay? I know you don’t want that, baby doll.” When you wildly shake your head again, he kneels down by your side, and Mibuchi can’t do anything but watch as the spit-filled gag is pulled down your chin and Akashi cups your cheek to kiss you ever so softly. “I know, I know, it’s okay. You were being friendly, hm? You’d never use our friend here for your own protection. But you still let me find you, and now you get punished, you know that.”

“Seijuro, I’m sorry, please,” your voice barely sounds like you. It’s hoarser, desperate, and cracking with tears as wetness and snot runs on your face— “please let’s just go home. We don’t have to make up here, I won’t- I won’t run again, I promise.” Akashi stills for a second too long to pretend to be indifferent. But he still hardens up, and simply turns over his shoulder to look at the noiret with a cold look.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

“N- ‘Juro- no,” you start struggling again through your tears, and he wants to help you. “Please anything but this, I beg you! Seijuro!” Your poor wrists look rubbed raw because of the fabric, and be it the dejected look in your eyes or the sound of your cries ringing through his house -it sparks another surge of adrenaline in him. But the Captain doesn’t repeat himself, and the words ring through his skull. I’ll hurt her. “I’ll be your good girl-” you start, before dissolving into a mess of cries when the redhead wraps an arm around your belly and pulls you up onto your feet against him. You go soft and quiet when your face is against his chest, and Akashi presses the sharp blade of the knife into your neck.

“Well?”

“It’s to the left.” Mibuchi has no other choice, does he? He has no way of knowing if the man before him would actually hurt you— he doesn’t even know the person standing before him now. As he trails his eyes over the two of you in both worry and stress, the glitter of the ring on your finger doesn’t miss him. You really did get married, didn’t you? Was it always like this? He can’t imagine you’d have stayed as long as you have if it was… but then again, he clearly doesn’t know anything about Akashi. He doesn’t know anything about you either, from the looks of things.

“Come along,” Akashi says, leading the way to the abandoned bedroom with too steady a step. If he wasn’t so worried about getting you hurt -or worse- he could probably make a run for his phone charging on the kitchen counter. But by the time police got here, it’d be too late. So instead he just slowly, carefully follows behind as you’re deposited on the messed up sheets of his own bed, and stands in the doorway with baited breath. As Akashi slowly starts to undo each button of your silky pyjamas, a horrible feeling settles in his stomach, and he clears his voice. There’s no way it can be what he thinks it is. The stretch of skin revealed to him is littered with fresh hickeys, and Mibuchi looks away.

Not quick enough, clearly, because you pull up a sniffled breath and let out a little whine when Akashi hums. “Always make me embarrass you like this.” The soft lilt to his tone is almost gentle, if he wasn’t threatening you with a knife a minute earlier. “Crying like a baby until you get what you want, hm?” The ruffling of clothes is enough to have heat come up onto Mibuchi’s face, resolutely boring his eyes into the doorframe instead of you. Akashi can’t be serious. He clears his voice, and the Captain sighs. “So how long have you been in love with my wife?”

“Huh?” He looks up to see the way you’re holding the undone shirt to your chest and barely keeping your modesty, and Akashi giving him a blank look. “I- I’m not-”

“Sure you are. Just look at her.” He apraises you from his spot beside the bed, and runs his long fingers along your jaw and shoulder with a little breath. “She’s absolutely perfect. Aren’t you, baby? My beautiful little doll.” The kiss he lays onto your lips is genuinely soft, and loving, and a cold spike comes to Mibuchi’s spine at the sight of you melting into the touch despite everything. “Always perfect for me…” Akashi whispers, and then straightens up. “That’s exactly why I can’t let you go.”

He turns over his shoulder briefly to look at Mibuchi, and then sighs. “You should take a seat. I’m going to remind my little whore wife exactly who she belongs to- you sit and be quiet, understand?”

He can’t bring himself to answer verbally, but at the pleading look in your eyes -the one currently eating him up as much as it is sending hot flares down his body- he slowly takes the farthest corner of the bed and sits. Your eyes don’t manage to make it to his as Akashi unclasps your arms from around you and peels the last of your soft top off. His eyes flick down instinctively, he can’t help it, and makes his mouth a little more dry. You’re - beautiful, embarrassment coloring your cheeks and ears and chest with obvious humiliation that only makes the redhead hum. “You’re so pretty.” His rough palm comes under your face to grab it and force it to turn. “Look at Mibuchi, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“N-no,” you whimper, but bite your lip hard, and your chest rises and falls rapidly.

“You don’t like being watched?”

“You know I don’t,” your voice comes out soft, but there’s an edge there that only makes Akashi’s mouth twitch, as he forces you to uncross your legs. He starts work there too, peeling off your shorts down beautiful smooth thighs. The noiret tries to stop himself from watching so intently, he truly does, because it’s clear you hate every second that he stares. But — fuck, your little whimpers are making his heart race. He’s just a guy, and the stress, and flood of adrenaline is betraying him now. Once your shorts and panties are off, Akashi just watches for a moment, and you take a deep breath. “You can’t bully me into liking it, Seijuro.”

He barely reacts. Brushes his rough thumbs along your tits and over your nipples, and pushes you back on the bed. “Shhh. We’re having a moment, baby. I didn’t want to do this, you know?” Akashi speaks like he’s cherishing you with his lips hovering yours, nudging your one thigh apart to make room for his hand as he runs two fingers along your slit. “But you make me. You’re just a stupid, dumb girl acting out because you want to be reminded of who you belong to, hm?” You shiver, and he spits onto his hand to start grinding his rough palm against your pussy as you close your eyes.

“No. No, I don-”

“No? You did this with Aomine,” he sighs, working two of his thick fingers inside you and you wiggle and hide your face into your shoulder, “and you did this with Kise too. But you’re still here. You just like getting your pussy fucked hard when you make me mad. Say it.”

“Ah- Seijuro, I-” His fingers curl in you, and your back lifts off the bed as your mouth opens into a silent moan. “Ah, ah— I like getting my pussy- fucked h-hard,” your voice is barely a whimper, but it’s quiet in the room save for everyone’s labored breathing as the slick sound of your pussy gets messier and louder. As you’re curling your hips onto his hand and resisting the urge to really fuck yourself onto his fingers, he pulls his shirt over his head and reveals the hard on covered by flimsy basketball shorts— and you let out a squeak. “Seijuro, ‘juro, I feel- mh-” You can’t even string a proper sentence together as he grunts, and traps your poor clit against the fleshy part of his palm.

“You should apologize for using Mibuchi,” Akashi softly says, a faint little grin on his lips that shows the glee in his eyes even more. “Go on.”

“But I— I didn’t use- ah, ahh-fuck.” Your wetness is glistening every time Akashi pulls his hand back and forces long fingers back in you- and you stuff the fabric of the gag back between your lips just to bite it hard as your tits are squeezed and he pinches your clit until your thighs shake. Then you cry, and open teary eyes to the man still frozen at the end of the bed. He doesn’t want you to look. To notice the shame pooling in his gut. “‘M sorry for using you.” Your snively look is too much.

Akashi hikes one of your thighs to your chest as he pulls his cock out and only shakes his head a little in disbelief, before lining up and pushing the drooling, red head in one hard pump inside. You whine out, and he licks his teeth as he grabs your throat and squeezes. “Needy fucking bitch. If you want to get your cunt fucked harder, you- should-” Each thrust slaps hard against your skin and hikes you further up, tits bouncing as your hands grab his forearms. “learn- to ask. Now Mibuchi will have to fuck his fist thinking of you, hm? Your- ugh- fault.”

His cock grinds deep inside your belly, hitting that spot good enough that you can’t open your eyes. Your ring glitters like your slicked pussy does, and the silvery tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you shake your head and sob, biting down on your puffy lips hard and clinging on. You look sorry. But with each thrust and squelch of your pussy taking Akashi as deep as you can, that look gets a little more faded. Maybe you're good at forgiving and forgetting.

You certainly look it.

#akashi x reader #knb x reader #knb x you #knb smut #kuroko no basquet #akashi smut #akashi seijuro #tw.dubcon #tw.yandere #tw.threesome #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.akashi

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henry-fox-biggest-stan · 1 year ago

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If you are a movie fan and haven't read the book yet, here are some irrelevant details from the book

Henry owns a cardigan

Arthur and Catherine meet on a Henry V play (which they named Henry after), which Catherine went to see and saw Arthur playing. She "shook off her security to disappear into London and dance all night".

Pez listens to kpop, and he got Alex into it

Nora watches drag race and got Henry into it

Henry is an Elton John fan (actually relevant in the book)

Alex is a Hall & Oates fan

Alex wears glasses (actually relevant in the book)

Henry is described by Alex as having lots of moles

Bea is the rockstar girlfriend, at the end of the book she plays on a concert and everything. She plays the guitar and is always wearing a leather jacket. She also has a fat cat called Mr Wobbles. And the queen wanted her to learn violin “since it was more proper” instead of guitar. “Bea was allowed to learn both, but she went to uni for classical violin.”

During the turkey phonecall, Henry is wearing a peely face mask

Amy is trans and has a pansexual wife

(Actually relevant) Catherine was not off in another country the whole story, just battling intense grief for her husband's death, so she wasn't present in her children's life, so they felt as if they lost both parents.

There's no king, she's actually a queen, her name is Mary and she should die (she's so so much worse on the book than the king is on the movie)

David is a service dog

(Actually relevant in the book) June bought a teen magazine at 15 and 13 year old Alex would sneak into her room to stare at the magazine (and the picture of a blonde 14 year old British prince on it).

Bea is the middle kid, Henry is the youngest

Henry is canonically on therapy and on antidepressants (since the start of the book)

I don't remember if they mentioned it on the movie but Arthur was James Bond and died of pancreatic cancer.

Alex’s favorite Olympic sport is rhythmic gymnastics

Bea had an addiction problem when Henry was about 17 (as a way to cope after their father's death) and only got herself into rehab after Henry went to her and started crying about dad was dead and he was gay and scared so she couldn't kill herself. That's how he came out to her

Alex doesn't wanna be president at the end of the book, he starts law school

Henry favourite star wars is Jedi, Alex's is Empire

June is allergic to peanuts

Alex runs and runs to cope and clear his head

He did not know he was bi until after Henry kissed him. Yes, he had a friend with benefits relationship with his high school friend Liam, but he genuinely thought it was perfectly platonic and straight

Also he doesn't keep on touch with Liam after high school (their friendship just slowly fades away, with living so far and Alex being suddenly famous) but they reconnect at the end

Alex and Henry move in together on a brownstone on Brooklyn, eventually they marry (after Henry abdicates) on the lake house, they move to a farmhouse on Austin, they spend their honeymoon unpacking

Pez is lactose intolerant

Bluebonnet is June’s code name, Barracuda is Alex’s

Henry is a big Austen fan, and makes references to her books through the story

Amy knits

Zahra has a sister who recently had a baby

June forced Alex into dresses as a kid

Henry’s favorite food is a cheap falafel stand ten minutes from the palace

Henry really likes sailing

Shaan has a motorbike

Alex is allergic to dust

Henry keeps a copy of Le Monde, the newspaper from the day they were in Paris, on his room

Alex and Nora dated when Alex was 17 and Nora 18 but realized they were definitely better off as friends. When they are bored, they like to create rumors about their relationship

Alex makes tons of lists to organize

Alex wears chinos, and claims kakhis are for white people

Nora is very good at math

Alex grew up catholic

At the end of their e-mails, Alex and Henry quoted historical lgbt love letters

Nora’s one-bedroom is “full of books and plants she tends to with complex spreadsheets of watering schedules.”

Nora is bisexual and on the aro spectrum (not canon on the book than she’s aro, but Casey did mention it somewhere)

Arthur gifted Henry a telescope for his seventh birthday

The karaoke scene happens not while on Texas but in some club full of queer people. The whole group is there, Pez got them matching kimonos. Alex’s says Hoe Dameron, Henry’s says Prince Buttercup. Aside from Henry singing Don’t Stop Me Now, Bea sings Call Me by Blondie, and Pez sings So Emotional by Whitney Houston in a “shockingly flawless falsetto”.

The lakehouse confessions happens while at night

The Kensington fight (after the lakehouse confession) is much more dramatic, they don’t go to the v&a that night, but the next night. That morning Henry got up early, and brought Alex coffee when he woke up. They made up.

Also Alex takes his coffee with cinnamon

Alex, Nora and Henry are gen z, while June is a millennial

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sannasruins · 1 month ago

Text

you had a choice

mark grayson x reader

type: angst, unrequited feelings, honestly idk

warnings: reader is the one with unrequited feelings, gn!reader but term "other girl" is used

a/n: i made the reader a bit more complicated in this fic, i honestly don't think they are wholly right in their approach, but are acting human and in a way i think many including myself might act. also i tried to keep to the cannon time line of season one but i haven't watched it in a few months and am basing it off the wiki so if there are any mistakes, don't at me

word count: 2.1k

You had known Mark since the two of you were young children, with your mother being a famous superhero, she and omni-man often socialized. You would attend his birthday parties, go on play dates with him, and as the two of you got older, his house would become a refuge for you when yours was empty. The two of you would play Mario Kart and Wii Sports in his living room, ordering pizza and talking about the newest Seance Dog comic that was out.

You were there to watch him grow, and change from the Mark that you had known to the Mark that he is today. There when he had his first crush in middle school, and when your chest weirdly hurt when he told you about her, you assumed you were just jealous at the idea of him spending time with someone more than you, and that it was nothing else.

But, you became more aware of him, flushing red when he leaned in close to you to see what you were holding or to murmur a comment to you under his breath. Blushing when he complimented you on a high score in a game or congratulated you for getting a good grade on a hard test. You would try to look nice around him, wearing pretty clothes and using the expensive perfume you got for your birthday. You would laugh at every joke he made, even if they weren’t especially funny, and you always smiled when you saw him.

He never noticed all your efforts though, poor oblivious Mark.

As the two of you entered high school, you started to notice the way some other girls would look at Mark, they looked at him almost in the same way that you did. But you told yourself that they didn’t know him like you did, they were not justified in their longing gazes.

You were there for Mark, his only peer he could talk to as he struggled with his lack of powers and feelings of letting down his father. Nobody else could support him in the way that you could, and did. You understood his struggle, being the child of a super hero yourself, you had expected that one day you would have powers manifest, but they hadn’t come yet if they were going to come at all.

And you were there to celebrate when he did get his powers, jumping with joy, holding his hands and telling him how proud of him you were, and how you knew he was going to be such a great hero.

When mark met Amber, you felt something form in your stomach, it was hard and it was cold, and every time you saw him looking at her, you were made aware of its freezing presence inside of you.

When you found out that Mark had managed to get a study date with Amber, the thing in your stomach seemed to double in size, filling you with bitter iciness that you didn’t fully understand. You tried to dissuade him from the date, telling him that he doesn’t need to be worrying about dating when he just got his powers, he should be training and starting his hero reputation.

“Thank you for your advice,” he told you, “But I don’t really think you could even understand what you’re talking about, its not like you have powers to speak from experience.”

His words bit at you, and he saw the hurt on your face, and he immediately felt regret for his harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed running a hand through his dark locks, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, I really like her, and you trying to dissuade me just isn’t cool with me.”

You nodded and apologized to him too, saying you’ll keep your opinion out of his choice of dates and dating.

You were there when he told you about the kiss he had shared with Amber in his bedroom, talking about how sweet and understanding she was, despite the fact that he had left her for over an hour on their date with no explanation to go save Mt. Rushmore.

You again felt the chill in your stomach spread, reaching up to wrap its way around your chest.

“That’s great Mark, I’m glad it went well.” You smiled and told him, but neither he nor really you noticed that your words weren’t truthful.

You watched as he grew closer to Amber, despite his erratic behavior with being a hero, and he would gush to you all the time about how it was going with her, and how much he liked her, and so on.

And as he went through the trials and tribulations of being both a boyfriend and a superhero, you found yourself, someone who used to spend hours upon hours with him, the person who was once closest to him, being pushed to the side, forgotten, and neglected.

He would cancel the plans the two of you had made to reschedule a date with Amber that he had missed or messed up.

When Amber dumped him after Mark didn’t show up to volunteer at the community center because he was out saving the world and got severely injured. You were the one at his bedside, holding his hand and tearfully looking at your best friend’s bruised and battered face.

You were called by Debbie and told that he had woken up, you rushed to his side, relief flooding over you as your eyes met his, and you smiled at him and sat down on his hospital bed.

The first thing he asked you however, brought back the freezing pit that you had forgotten since he had been so badly injured.

“How’s Amber?”

Your face morphed from smile to something between shock and disgust, before you quickly fixed it back into a now forced and small smile.

“She said she dumped you for ghosting.” You answered his inquiry, not trying to sugar coat your words at all.

“What?” he asked, and his face fell.

“Mark,” you told him, your voice softening for the boy who you care so deeply for, for your best friend who you love and only want the best for, “I think maybe you should let it be. You can’t keep doing this where you’re dating someone who doesn’t understand that you have a greater purpose, and more important commitments than just them. You can’t date someone who doesn’t know that you’re Invincible.”

He looked at you angrily, “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t comment on my relationship anymore.”

“…yeah.” You responded quietly and left his hospital room. Watching him go through this off and on, riding the seas of emotional turmoil over some high school relationship, hurt you. You didn’t want to see him struggle or be sad, he was still your best friend, at least in your eyes.

Once Mark was able to, he went to Amber and begged for forgiveness, which she for some reason granted to him. And to top it off, he then went on a weekend trip to a see a college with his once again newly reinstated girlfriend and Willaim, leaving you behind because you didn’t want to watch the two of them being together all weekend. You just told Mark that you didn’t want to fifth wheel when he invited you.

You were there when he came for you after that weekend, in incredible emotional distress, and told you about the fight he had with Amber, and that she had broken up with him again. Worst of all, he told you that he had revealed to her that he was Invincible to try to get her to understand him, in a last-ditch effort to win her back. And still after having that closely held secret told to her, and still having her turn him away.

You sat by him as he poured his heart out to you with watery eyes. But as you watched him, you felt the frigid cold in your stomach and chest spread even further, up into your throat, out into your arms, and down your legs.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He said to you weepily, “I thought she would understand if I told her, if I explained everything to her. I thought it would be alright.”

You didn’t respond and just looked at him, you didn’t know what you were feeling but it was a foreign feeling that you have never had before while looking at Mark. You felt tired, and almost apathetic.

“I don’t know Mark.”

He continued on, rambling about how he thought he could fix it, and now how he can’t think of anything to make things better.

He turned to you after you hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being your slow breathing and his occasional sniffle.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked

“I don’t know Mark,” you said once again.

And then you got up, and walked out of your bedroom, leaving a confused Mark Grayson behind you.

You knelt frozen in front of your tv as you and most of the world watched the fight between Omni-Man and Invincible destroyed Chicago. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched your best friend and his father, a man you had been close to since childhood, fought, causing death and destruction through out their super powered path. You felt horror, and selfishly, feared for Mark’s life more than anything.

You were there, when Mark awoke at the GDA hospital, sleeping on top of your folded arms that lay on his bed as you sat by his side.

You had been there for days, sitting sometimes with others who would come see him, but most of the time it was just you and Debbie, watching his swollen sleeping face, and wishing for him to wake up.

Mark looked at you, and around the room, and then back to you, with bags under your closed eyes, messy hair and most likely days old clothes.

It suddenly clicked for him, that you alone had always been there. Since a time before he could fully recall, you had been there. And here you were once again, by his side. He began to weep. Feelings of gratefulness and adoration flooded him.

You awoke slowly to the quiet sounds of Mark crying, but once you realized what the sound you were heard as, you jumped to your feet and looked at Mark. Worry morphing your face.

“Are you in pain?” you asked, quickly looking over him, as if you could find the source of his tears and presumed pain, and make them stop.

Mark reached out and grabbed your hand, and your eyes drew to his face. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not,” then he winced when you sat on the bed, shifting its weight and causing him to also shift, and added, “well maybe a little sore but that’s not what’s wrong.”

You watched him expectantly, still holding his hand, waiting for him to go on, wanting to know what was going on and how you could help fix it.

“I…” he started and stopped, clearing his throat that was rough from its lack of use and nerves, “I think I am in love with you.”

Your blood ran cold. The freeze made itself known once more, settling deep inside of you, in a place you could never take it out. It took over torso, and quickly seeped into your limbs, before finally it made its way to your head.

You pulled your hand away from his.

“What?” you asked, and though it just one word, the question came out harsh and sharp.

“I just realized now,” he explained to you, “that you’re the one that’s always been here. You’re the one who understands me. You’re the one who I need in my life, the only one able.”

You frowned at him, “So, I’m the most convenient? The one who is content with being push to the side, so you can prioritize other things? Who already knows who you are, what you are, so you don’t have to explain to the next girl you date?”

“No no no,” he shook his head, looking desperate to get his point across, “that’s not what I mean at all.”

“Forget it Mark,” you told him, standing up from his bed and taking a step back. “You were too busy loving another girl to notice that I was there, loving you.”

He looked at you, distress showed on his damaged face.

“I didn’t know,” he half whispered dejectedly.

“I’m pretty sure it was obvious Mark, if you ever once looked my way and actually truly saw me, and the way that I looked at you.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“It’s too late Mark. You had a choice, and you chose wrong.”

#mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson #invincible #invincible series #invincible x reader angst #mark grayson x reader angst #invincible fanfic

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

Text

LITTLE STAR

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genre: angsty (ok, a lot of angst) romance and tiny bit of fluff

ᯓᡣ𐭩 AU: Steve is born in the 21st century and isn't a superhero, basically the world is like ours

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Story type: one shot

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Word count: 4.1 K

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TW(s): talks of death, domestic abuse, deadbeat father, a lot of angst, I know nothing about football so incorrect football things.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Request: Hi! | have a request for a story for Steve Rogers x female character. The genre would be romance but it would be very angsty/sad but with a happy ending. (the request is longer but if I write it here it'll spoil the story)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Songs & Superheroes tales — The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

Seven years ago

“48…49…50! I’ll find you, Y/N!” Steve says as he turns around from the tree he was facing, his eyes scanning the small park, trying to find where you were hiding. You have always been good at this game, but he was always better.

“Found you!” Steve says as he sees you crunching down in the little house on the slide.

“How can you always find me?!” You sigh and sit down on the dirty wood of the Colorful House,that’s how you both called it even though with the years it had lost most of its color, leaving only some red and some blue here and there.

“I already checked your other favorite places, so the Colorful house was the only place left.” Steve explains proudly as he sits down next to you.

“Next time I’ll be the one counting and I’ll find you in less than five seconds!” You pout, but the smile comes back on your face when a certain thought crosses your mind, “Are you excited to start middle school, Stevie?”

The boy shrugs his shoulders, “it’s just school.”

“No it isn’t! It’s the big kids’ school!” You were excited, like really excited. You, who usually hate school, haven't stopped talking about middle school since the start of summer break. You have already bought all the supplies you needed and more.

“It will all be the same, study, more study and study even more!” Steve sighs, you give him a playful nudge with your elbow.

“You say that only because you’ll have less time to play football.” Football has always been Steve’s sport, he liked and he was damn good at it.

“Maybe.” Steve gave you a small smile.

Three years later

“Stevie? What’s this?” You ask, confused, as you look at the big truck in front of Steve’s house, two men are putting boxes in it.

Steve flinches when hearing his name, he didn’t want her to see this, “Y/N! I can…can explain…”

“Are you moving out? Without telling me?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you look up at your best friend, he has gotten taller over the years and his first muscles started to show thanks to his football training.

“No! I mean yes but-“ Steve sighs and takes a deep breath, “Remember my dream school?”

“Of course.” How could you forget? He always talks about it, it’s a private high school in San Francisco that’s literally connected – for lack of better terms – with a college there. Basically, after you finish high school you already have a seat ready for you in the college, which is one of the best in the country.

“Well, I got offered a sports scholarship to go there!” Steve sounds so happy about that, are you a bad friend because you aren't happy for him? Are you selfish? Probably yes, because the only thing that you can think about right now is how he’s going to leave you alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You can barely hear yourself now. Did he think that you would try and make him stay? Well…That’s what you want to do, but you don't want to be a shitty friend, you don't want Steve to abandon his dream for you. Because that’s the thing in your friendship: if you were to ask Steve to not go to San Francisco he would drop everything and stay with you.

“I wanted to tell you, really but…I didn’t know how to tell you without upsetting you.”

Translation: if you were upset you’d ask me to stay, I’d stay because I hate seeing you upset, but I don’t want to stay because this is my dream.

“I am upset, no point in lying, it’s just…I would’ve told you if I were in your place.” You sit down on the porch of Steve’s house.

“I know, I’m sorry…” Steve sits down next to you and, as always, you can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I already forgave you,” You smile softly as you shrug your shoulders, “so, when do you have to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Now it’s Steve’s voice that’s a mere whisper. The day after tomorrow? And when was he planning on telling me? When he was already on the plane? God knows how much you want to tell him all your thoughts, but you have only a few hours left to spend together and you don't want to spend them fighting on not talking to each other.

“Then why are we sitting here?” You ask, standing up and holding out your hand towards your best friend, “Let’s spend as much time as we can together!”

Steve smiles up at you and grabs your hand, pulling himself up, “I like your plan.”

During the next day you two did everything you could think of: you skated together, had a sleepover, you even made bracelets for each other – the one Steve made for you said ‘Little star’ because that’s how he liked to call you, while the bracelet you made for him said ‘Stevie’.

“But will you come back during the holidays?” You ask, Steve stands next to his father’s car, Steve’s mom will drive her son and husband to the airport: Steve’s dad will stay with him for a few weeks until he’s gotten used to San Francisco, then Steve will move in his dorm at the school and his dad will come back.

“I promise.” Steve smiles down at you and throws his arms around your waist while you hug his neck, “take care, little star.”

“You too, Stevie, I’ll miss you.” You kiss his cheek and blink back the tears, you don’t want to cry right now, one of your last memories with Steve won’t be a sad one.

“I’ll miss you too.” And with that, Steve enters the car, before he could do something stupid like kissing you. Once in the car, though, he sees how sad you looked and he sighs, fuck it. He gets out of the car and hugs you again.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N, but I don’t want to leave with regrets.” Before you can ask him what he means he presses his lips on yours. It’s just a quick peck, an innocent kiss between thirteen years old, but you feel your heart explode. “I’ll become the best football player ever, I’ll make money and then we’ll go live together on a mountain, like you always wanted…Just, wait for me.”

You smile up at him and nod, “I’ll wait for you.”

Present day

Steve didn’t hold his promise. It was always his parents going to San Francisco for the holidays and never him coming back to Brooklyn. For three years you didn’t hear from each other, it may seem a short time for people that knew each other since birth but a lot can change in three years, even more than Steve ever thought was possible.

He gets out of the car, parking it in front of his childhood house: he was back in Brooklyn for his last year of high school.

“Y/N changed her house a lot.” He says towards his parents as he looks towards what used to be your childhood home, now a different color and without the front porch.

“Oh no, they don’t live there anymore.” His mom explains, “after Y/N’s mom died they moved into an apartment on the other side of the city.”

“What?” Steve feels like a cold water bucket has just been thrown over his head, “Y/N’s mom died?” She was young and healthy though.

“Yes, two years ago, she had a heart attack, Y/N asked us to not tell you.”

“Why?” His mom shrugs her shoulders, then puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“It hasn’t been easy for her, but from what I know she goes to the same school you’ll go from tomorrow, try and talk to her.” She squeezes his shoulder, “You’re her best friend after all, aren’t you?”

Am I? Steve thinks, I wasn’t by her side when her mom died, I haven’t seen in three years…Are we really more than strangers?

“Why are they all staring at me?” Steve asks Bucky, one of his childhood friends, as they walk in the hallways of Brooklyn’s high school.

“Because you’re the handsome new guy.” Bucky explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I’m not actually new, I’m sure I went to middle school with at least fifteen people in this hallway.”

“But you’re not the same Steve Rogers that left three years ago, you look like a fucking closet man.” Bucky chuckles, but it’s the truth, Steve had gotten taller and very muscular in only three years.

“I guess you’re right.” Steve can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, he reaches his locker, before he can open it though he notices a girl standing on the locker next to his. That girl is you, but he recognizes you only after you close your locker. You look the same as three years ago and another completely different person at the same time. Obviously you are older, and that shows on your features, and you are even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Y/N!” He says with a bright smile on his face, your eyes widen when you recognize him but quickly you look down and walk away, completely ignoring him.

“Don’t mind her, she hasn’t been the same since her mom died.” Bucky explains, “she doesn’t speak to anyone, is always late to school and never has money for lunch, I buy it for her sometimes but I’m not even sure if she actually eats it.”

“What happened to her?” Steve whispers as he looks at you entering your next class, which, coincidentally, is the one he has next too. He walks in the class and smiles when he sees that the seat next to you is free.

“Y/N, it’s me, Steve.” He says as he sits next to you. You could ignore him, look away, hell, even change seat, but hearing his voice so close after three years made your heart swell and clench at the same time. What is he doing here? You couldn’t help but ask yourself that, shouldn’t he be doing his last year in San Francisco? Did he change his mind?

“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard the whispers, everyone’s talking about you.” You shrug your shoulders, acting like the only thing you want to do isn’t throw yourself in his arms and feel some comfort for the first time in years.

“It’s the first time we see each other in three years and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Listen, I’m sorry for never coming back in Brooklyn during the last years but I’m here now can’t we just-”

“Class’s starting." You interrupt him and point at the teacher who just walked in the classroom. Steve scoffs but turns his attention to the teacher.

After a while he hands you a piece of paper with ‘you know I don’t give up easily’ written on it.

Soon you feel like you have another shadow, a shadow that’s taller and bigger than you. Steve follows you everywhere he can and he’s always trying to make you open up, trying to bring your friendship back.

“Are you going to follow me home too?” You snap at Steve when the last bell rings.

“Do you want me to? I haven't seen your new house yet.” He says, putting his backpack on one shoulder.

“And you never will.” You answer harshly, showing him the small and dirty apartment where you lived would be too embarrassing.

Steve shrugs your answer off, “You’re lucky I have practice today.” He’s on the school football team and they couldn’t be happier.

“Why did you come back from San Francisco?” You can’t help but ask, why would someone ever leave that place?

“Had a fight with a boy who was harassing a girl, turns out it was the principal’s son.” Steve shakes his head, “immediate expulsion.”

Why did his answer hurt? Were you hoping he’d say something like ‘I missed you’? How stupid of you, he didn’t even call in three years. You nod and turn away, walking towards your house. The same house that was barely a home, more like a prison. It wasn’t the outside of the building the problem, and not even the small apartment itself, the problem was the man who lived with you. Your father, at least, who he should be. To you, ever since your mother’s death, it felt like living with a stranger.

“Dad, I’m home.” You shout as you open the door to the apartment on the second floor. Silence. Silence is the only thing that you can hear, and you couldn’t be happier: silence means that he isn’t at home, which also means he’s probably out drinking and will come back in the evening highly drunk. But that will be a problem for future you, for now you lay on your bed, doing your homework. You even take a small nap.

Your small time in paradise ends as you’re cooking dinner and the door opens. Your dad walks inside, crawling his feet on the ground, with an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“Oh, you’re cooking, I see you’ve learned your lesson.” At his words your mind flies to the bruise on your stomach, but you quickly shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m cooking some soup.” You close your eyes, breaching yourself for the storm that is about to come.

“Soup? You know I hate soup!” He says as he starts getting angry, which definitely isn’t a good thing.

“I noticed that soup was the only thing we had when it was too late to go to the store.” You admit, already feeling the pain of the hit when he didn’t even hit you, yet.

“Useless as always!” He shouts and throws the empty glass bottle of beer at your legs. You damn yourself in your mind for deciding to wear shorts when you feel the glass against your bare legs, leaving cuts behind. You don’t dare to flinch or even make a little sound, though, knowing that it would only make him more mad.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper as you place two plates of soup on the table, “I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“You better, I’m not eating this shit.” Your father throws his plate with soup on the ground, breaking it in tiny little pieces. He’s worse than a toddler. You get up from your chair and start cleaning immediately, knowing that if you didn’t he would only get worse. You ignore the pain from the fresh cuts on your legs and pick the ceramic shatters from the ground, the soup on the ground wetting your slippers.

“I can’t cook anything else for you though…” You whisper, not even scared anymore, simply resigned and used to it.

You know that he could misunderstand every word you say.

You know he could hit you anytime.

You know you don’t have a choice but endure it till you’re done with high school.

You know you have to wait another nine months for that.

“You stupid bitch! Your mom would have never done this!” Your heart clenches at his words. How dare he talk about her, when he was the cause of her death?

“Don’t talk about her, you can’t.” You glare at him as you stand up, throwing the ceramic shatters you had just collected on the ground again.

“I can’t? And why can’t I?” He walks towards you, his big frame making you feel small and vulnerable, but not in a good way.

“You killed her!” You shout at him, tears starting to blur your vision, but you blink them back: you won’t cry in front of him. It’s basically telling him that you’re scared.

And you would never admit that.

“It wasn’t me who killed her, it was you! You killed your own mother!” You know that he’s trying to manipulate and gaslight you, but at the same time you have heard that sentence so much that you were starting to believe it.

Maybe if you were a better daughter she would still be alive.

Maybe if you were more independent she would still be with you.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe your mother is happier now. Wherever she is now she doesn’t have to look after an incompetent man who can’t even cook for himself, she doesn’t have to stay up until sunrise to make sure he doesn’t come to your room when drunk.

Maybe it’s for her best that she’s dead now.

“NO! You killed her because she was always so busy looking after you that she barely had time to look after herself, she never had the time to even do a check up!” You shout at him, tears rolling down your cheeks freely. “She died because you wouldn’t even pick up your own nose from the ground-” You let out a banshee-level scream as you feel the ceramic sink into your shoulder.

He stabbed you with a piece of ceramic from the plate.

Your father.

Your daddy, the same man who played princess tea party with you when you were four. The same man who checked under your bed for monsters every night for years.

You almost laugh when you realize you can’t remember any happy memories with your dad after your tenth birthday.

Two weeks later.

Luckily, the nurses believed you when you told them that you were taking a plate from a high shelf and it fell and broke on your shoulder. Steve, on the other hand…

“Tell me what happened.” Steve says as he sits next to you inside the Colorful House in the park.

“You follow me outside of school too, now?” You say annoyed.

“This was your favorite place to hide when we were kids, I see it didn’t change.” There’s a sad smile on his face, then he turns to you, “I don’t believe that a plate fell on you, tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth.” You roll your eyes, he sighs and his eyes fall on your wrist.

“You aren’t wearing your bracelet anymore.” He notices for the first time, you hide your wrist with your other hand.

“It broke.” My dad broke it. “You aren’t wearing it either.”

“I was worried it would break so I transformed it into a necklace.” He pulls down the collar of his shirt, revealing the letters that you used to make his bracelet, ‘Stevie’.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing you can say as you try to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Neither of you has spoken about what happened before he left, but it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Or literally anything but your dad.

“You kissed me before leaving and then you never came back, you never even called!” You say.

“What? I called almost every day!” You look at him confused at his words, “I knew you didn’t have a phone so I called the only number I remembered: your father’s.”

“That explains a lot of things…” You look down at your feet, Steve had called your father and he never told you anything? Why?

“He told me you didn’t want to talk to me or that you weren’t home, after a while I think he blocked my number, I didn’t have any other way to contact you and I simply thought you…didn’t want to hear from me…”

You look at him with a sad look, “He never told me about your calls.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knows what goes on in his sick mind.” Without even realizing your hand goes to the injury on your shoulder, and that’s when Steve understands.

“It was him, he gave you that scar.”

You nod, your eyes filling with tear, “Stabbed me with a piece of ceramic from a broken plate”

“Y/N that’s sick! Why didn’t you feel the truth at the hospital? Or to a teacher or…or…or to me…” His voice gets quieter towards the end of the sentence.

You shrug your shoulders, “I only have to endure it another few months, then I’ll leave and never come back.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve gently wraps an arm around your shoulders, careful on the scar, and pulls you towards his chest. You bury your face in his broad chest and finally let go, crying against him. When was the last time you felt free to cry? At your mother’s funeral probably.

“Since my mother’s death.” You look up at him, placing your chin on his chest, comforted by his hold and the look of his eyes you decide to tell him the whole truth. “She died of a heart attack, that’s true, but you know what caused the heart attack?” You take a deep breath, “Exhaustion, overworking, call it however you like but truth is she was like my father’s slave — your heart falls in pronouncing those words — he made her work so much that in the end her heart couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Steve places a hand on the back of your head and cradles your head against his chest, kissing your forehead.

“And now he’s doing the same to me, I have to do everything in the house and if I don’t…” You can’t even finish the sentence as your body shakes with sobs.

“I’ll get you out of there, I promise.” Steve continues repeating soothing words to your ear and kissing your hair, you slowly calm down and look up at him, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

“No need to thank me, I would do anything for you.”

“So…” A grin forms on your face as you push any thought regarding your father away, “What about that kiss?”

Steve laughs, “Well, my offer to go live on a mountain is still up if you want.”

“Like, best friends living together?”

“What if I want us to be more than best friends?” His eyes fall on your lips.

“Then I’d tell you that I want the same.” You press your lips on his, it’s a gentle and soft kiss. Just like Steve.

“I love you, damn I’ve loved you since we were kids.” You smile at his words.

“I love you too.”

Months later

There are only a few days left until graduation, until you can finally leave the hell that was supposed to be your home.

“Hello Mrs. Rogers.” You greet Steve’s mom as she opens the door. Since you and Steve started dating your presence has become almost constant at house Rogers, just like when you were a kid.

“Oh Y/N, Steve’s in his room.” She greets you with a hug. “I’m so happy that you are his girlfriend, I always knew you two would end up together.” You smile and before she can start planning your wedding you run to Steve’s room where he’s sitting on the bed.

“I know that look, you need to tell me something.” You give him a peck on the lips as a greeting.

“Yes and it’s big happy news.”

“Tell me everything big boy.” You know he hates that nickname, and that’s exactly why you keep calling him that.

“I got a call from the coach of an important Football team, I’ll spare you the details because I know you understand nothing of Football, but…” he takes your hands in his, “They want me in the team! I’m going pro on one of the best teams in the U.S.!” It’s true, you understand nothing of football but the excitement in his face and tone is hard to resist.

“This is fantastic! I’m so happy for you!” You throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“I want you to come with me.” He says as he cups your face in his hands. “Come live with me, there’s a great college near where I’ll have to stay, you can study there! It isn’t a mountain but it’ll keep you away from your dad.”

Only now you notice that you’re both crying, and for the first time in years yours are happy tears.

“I would love that.”

“Really?!” He kisses you again and again, laying you down on the bed between your laughs.

“I can’t wait to see you at my games, you’ll come see them right?”

“I won’t miss a single one.” You smile as he kisses your jaw. “I’ll be your lucky charm.” You chuckle.

“You’re better than my lucky charm, you’re my little star, the light of my life.”

You kiss him with a smile. He keeps calling you his star, but little does he know that he’s the sun of your life.

Your savior, the man who will take you away from you father.

The man you love.

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