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vifilms · 3 months ago

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≛ THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

♪ ˚. THE BRAT CHALLENGE ♱ ⋆.˚

feat. drummer!abby x fem!reader x footballplayer!ellie

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: switch!abby (kinda), jealousy, cheating, abby’s pierced nipples, reader desc. feminine, fingering, munch activities, toxicity ensuing, voyerisum, strap sex.

THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE, ellie williams, sporting 88’ on the back of her jersey, the world renowned football player from the united states. the overly competitive blood runs through her veins, passed down from her father, just as well as an overpowering ego the size of texas. she has the girl of her dreams, the most important game of her life in sight, but what happens when one drummer threatens to wreck it all?

wc. 10k

It’s easy to feel safe and comfortable with her, slipping into a simple life. Traveling the world with your favorite soccer player, the auburn-haired five-foot-five of pure talent, as soon as her custom cleats step foot on the field.

When the crowd echoes chants of her name, the rumbling of the rowdy fans, aggressive shouts cursing the other team. With crushed beer cans, sunflower seeds are spat on the ground, and they are begging for a goal. The 88’ jersey was littered across the stands. Every fan in the arena went to see her, yet you aren’t here.

It was one of the biggest games of her career, and you would not be seen anywhere, especially after the past week. She doesn’t blame you; Ellie could only blame herself but needs her good luck charm. The events replaying in her mind, haunting her while she tries to get one wink of sleep, but the look of horror in your eyes, the shoulder check you left her with, green eyes pleading to reason with her, but you refused.

Let me know when you want to grow the fuck up and tell me what’s wrong with you.

The words running in her mind, haunting her as she sleeps at night, wondering if today is the day the stone will be unturned or if she’ll actually tell you everything bothering her. But she doesn’t. Never had she seen you like it; rage carries higher than the waves of a tsunami, and all of it, every drop of water, seems to be crashing over her.

Every drop of it suffocates her until there is no oxygen left to breathe.

When she gets home, she scours the apartment for a trace of you, yet half of your belongings are absent. Ellie starts to wonder if she’s pushed you too far this time. Always, she’s betted on you sticking around through thick and thin but maybe you finally had enough.

Has she pushed you too far? Are you too far out of reach? She has no choice but to let you drown with the devil itself, succumbing to your own needs for once, not hers.

The side of the closet holding your belongings was in disarray. Ellie could see that your favorite belongings were absent. All the sweaters, hoodies, hell, even the flannels you would steal from her were meticulously folded and placed in the corner.

Ellie thought you would give her the benefit of the doubt. She thought you would let her explain why she had taken the job offer without consoling you. Now, considering what she seems to be losing, there’s nothing she wishes for more than to take it all back.

Any success is so trivial if she has no one to celebrate it with, not without you.

From the very start, you’ve been right there by her side. From the very beginning, it wasn’t as picture-perfect as she imagined. The fairytale began with what she thought would be a never-ending love story.

Something so pure, it could never turn rotten.

—

Growing up on the outskirts of New York had its perks. The small town was busy, yet the countryside tucked an hour away gave you a sense of solitude. Entirely predictable suburbs, the cul-de-sac tucked in the back of the neighborhood reeks of disturbed suburbia.

Everyone knew everyone, and you knew Ellie.

You were ten the day the two of you became friends, and you’ll never forget it. Clumsily, you had just fallen off your bike, knees skidding by the concrete as the skin had been peeled, the wound viciously open.

“Did you fall—” the girl shakes her head at herself, curses flying into the wind. “Of course you did. God, so stupid.”

She continues talking to herself as you weep slightly in a pathetic manner. Affectionately, the mysterious girl who also happens to be riding her bike past the park in your neighborhood pats you gently on the shoulder.

“I'll be right back. Stay there. I'll be back. Promise.”

She disappears on her blue and red bike, red hair flying in any direction the wind takes, but returns just like she said — a girl of her word.

“Here, let me fix you.” She grabs the first-aid kid from the bucket on her bike. Ellie kneels on the ground. You notice her bright blue Converse with red laces, which match her bicycle perfectly.

“Yeah, okay—” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as the nice girl tends to your knee. “Thanks.”

She grabs the needed tools, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Well, I used to fix my dad all the time. He's a soccer player and gets hurt a lot.

You stay silent as she rambles on.

“One day, going to be just like him, but better. My old man got too old before he decided to be good. I'm going to be the best player ever.”

“I bet you will be.” your eyes find hers, the sun making them shine like an emerald diamond, just like the one your mom wears on her ring finger.

“My coach says I'm good already but tells me not to get my hopes up.”

You realize Ellie has already cleaned your wound; her small hand applies pressure with the gauze as he wraps it away. She's so concentrated but simultaneously rambles away about her dad, the last soccer game she played in, and jokes to get your mind off the pain.

“How does it feel?” Ellie asks, the corner of her lip upturns, a soft smile gracing her freckled, full cheeks.

“Better,” you thank her, smiling shyly. She observes you as you hop back on your bike, ensuring you aren't in pain. Curiously, her mind drifts to how cute you are, and she wonders why her stomach is in complete knots.

She confuses it for sickness.

“You’re welcome.” Ellie stretches the nape of her neck, and her short hair sticks to her skin from the heat. “I'm Ellie, by the way.”

“I know.” You offer your name as Ellie blushes, her cheeks tinted pink. The love you feel is etched right into her heart, and she feels it from the first moment your name is said.

In a cliche, obvious way, the rest was history.

The two of you were best friends until college, bringing out the best in you—platonic love blossoming into something sweet, a one-in-a-million love you can only hope to find in someone else.

The tricky thing? It works. The two of you fit better than you could have ever dreamed of. The incredible bliss of youth leaves your faith blinded, corrupted by the true love you have for Ellie. Oblivious to flaws, all you see is her. Assuring you follow her around like a lost puppy; anything she wants, she gets. The skeletons in the closet are no match for the two of you, each being dragged out one by one.

But not by either of you.

—

One Week earlier…

“Would you stop so we can talk about this?” Ellie nearly shouts at you, granting her another eye roll, she’s lost count on how many you’ve thrown at her since the two of you left the club. The longing looks, her wandering olive eyes on someone else all night, gawking at the muscles, making you feel envious of someone you couldn’t have.

Your girlfriend’s attention.

But this is all your fault, right?

“Talk about what? How you, Ellie, made a decision to make a life altering decision without me? Yeah, okay, let’s fucking talk.” You have a bite in your voice, one Ellie has rarely heard, the sweetness diluted with her consistent need to keep you in the dark. “Fucking talk, please. I’d love to hear the bullshit excuse you’re gonna give me.”

“Why are you making this a big deal? It’s my career, not yours.” You bite your tongue as the words leave your mouth. Instantly, you feel burned by the person who thought loved you more than anything. Even in the heat of the moment, you figured she would give you the benefit of the doubt, even when you’ve been blind sided by her teammates. All because she was too much of a coward to tell what she’s already done. “Right. Foolish of me to think we’re a team.”

Spitefully, you throw your belongings in your tote, ignoring when she tries to grab your wrist, dodging her quickly. She tries again but stops when you tell her to. The only boundary she leaves untouched it seems.

“We are a team.” Ellie tries to convince you, but you don’t budge. Not an inch of you believes the shit she’s spewing at you.

“Oh! Well, that’s a surprise to me. If we’re such a team, why don’t you tell me why you won’t have sex with me….for eight months?” You raise your eyebrows at her, giving her an opportunity to speak but she stays silent like she always does. “If we’re such a team, why did you accept a job offer on another continent without even giving me the respect to tell me about it before you accepted the offer?”

Ellie stays silent, finding the hardwood beneath her feet more interesting.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You change into something more comfortable, slamming the bathroom door shut as you do, gathering other toiletries, different necessities you would need for the next few weeks.

You find her sitting on the edge of the bed in tears, as much as you want to hug her and give her the comfort she probably needs, there’s no good will in your heart. As much as you love her, only the boiling anger can be found. Blistering frustration, the one someone has when their girlfriend won’t touch them, kiss them, or even warrant them the truth.

“I love you, okay? I just need to figure some things out.” Ellie pouts, eyebrows furrowed as she says enough to get you to look at her. She sees the tears threatening to spill over, but you won’t let them fall in front of her. Never have you liked crying in front of others. Just as if she was anyone else, you would wait until you were in private to lick your wounds. “I just need some time, I just don’t know what’s happening to me.”

But all sincerity is lost, all you see in front of you is lies and deceit. Someone backed in the corner with no way to manipulate their way out.

“Well…figure your shit out, Els. Right now? It doesn’t seem like you do.” You grab your bags, slipping your shoes on, “I’ve had enough for now. Let me know when you grow the fuck up and let me know what’s wrong with you.”

—

Still, your blood boiled from last week’s exchange, the venomous words crawling up your throat like bile, as if this wasn’t what she wanted, what she started. All of this had been her idea.

Time and time again, dismissive words found their way into your heart, making a home before you had enough time to catch them. Sure, committed and faithful, she says. Then, she does this, makes your decisions without consulting you, and scolds you for getting upset about it. You craved space, so you did what any rational person would.

Swiftly packed your bags and flew to the other side of the country.

The fresh feeling is still swarming through your head, and the lingering words are aimed at your heart with more impact than you could stand. When they were told, Ellie regretted them the second they left her heart-shaped lips. Yet she stands there as she analyzes your tense frame, avoiding her at all costs.

You leave her with a soft murmur: staying at a friend’s. What you neglect to mention is that your friend lives on the other side of the country, tucked away in the safety of New York. Luckily, the nightlife is an easy distraction and does its job.

Intentionally, the first few nights are spent drowning yourself in liquor, letting yourself be grinded on by other drunk girls until they buy you shots, walking up back in your hotel room alone — then the cycle repeats.

The tranquility of a life forgotten, the gift of Don Julio, so like anyone else, you chase it. The drinks are free, the girls flirting with you are prettier than you’d ever seen but maybe that’s just the loneliness eating you up from the inside out. Yet, you find yourself itching to venture beneath, allow yourself to drown in someone else. Was there black lace? Possibly white or navy green boxers underneath? But you couldn’t, and you won’t. The guilt would eat you alive.

You told yourself it was just a fight, but was it? It’s when the second thought seeped in, invading the pessimistic part of your brain and feeding into malicious tendencies. Maybe you do want this? Something new?

Someone who wasn’t Ellie.

The thought alone sends shivers down your spine; an agonizing dread fills you. Never had you ever been provoked to leave, but the longer the silence welcomes you with open arms, the more the affliction lingers.

No text. No calls. No voicemails. Nothing.

Part of you ached for resolution. Even if it meant a means to an end, you could somehow soothe the aching in your chest. On the seventh day, she reached out.

A lazy effort of a text — couldn’t even be bothered to call.

elsbaby: can we talk, baby? please.

Perhaps if it had been the day after, two, three, even four — you would have the compassion to empathize. When she comes crying a week later after she spewed the most severe insults you’ve ever heard come out of her mouth? Any need to reconnect has dissipated at the drop of a hat.

this is what you wanted.

It shouldn’t make you spiral, but it does. You end up at a show; a rock band takes center stage at The Wolfhouse, and upcoming musicians try to make a name for themselves. Sitting at the bar, letting the vibrations of the base and the thumping of the snare drum infiltrate

Solemnly tapping the beat of your healed boot to the beat of the drum, you take in the singer on the stage. Black raven-haired beauty with a prominent nose and beautiful lips. She made the stage her own as she worked every angle known to man.

A firm belief is settled in your heart and everyone in there. She was born to be up there. You were too entranced, enjoying the music too much along with the cocktail in your hand, and you didn’t even notice the blonde making her way up to you.

As soon as you felt someone next to you, the first thought in your mind was how hellbent you were to be left alone. Even if it physically put you in distress, fuck, you couldn’t even remember the last time Ellie and you went on a date. The last time she touched you, kissed you, fucked you within an inch of your life.

It’s a pathetic, good for nothing excuse.

The line of morality blurs whenever your eyes latch onto eyes so gray the blue almost fades into them. Gorgeous freckles scattered across her smooth cheeks like twinkling stars in the galaxy.

Slowly, she takes your figure in, examining you up and down before smirking. She says nothing to you as she orders a neat whiskey. She hands her silver credit card to the bartender, “and whatever she wants for the rest of the night.”

You think for a moment she’ll talk to you, but she winks before settling into a booth with four others who look oddly familiar. The rest of the night, you’re met with tranquility and the steady and skilled bump of the bass guitar. It reminded me of when you were young, ambitions were the only thing on your mind, and you were lost in the never-ending need to be someone. It’s when you still believe something is worth living for, more than beating your drum to someone else’s tune.

You sipped on three Mexican martinis throughout the night and got lost when you walked up to the bar. The beefy, muscular blonde was there to greet you. This time, you got a clear look at her. Her rugged and toned frame shows off her commitment to the gym.

Yet, her deep blue pools are more charming than you would like to admit. A delicate edge to her jawline pulls you in as you admire the septum ring decorating her freckled nose, the bump in her nose making you smile softly.

You’ve always loved a girl with an intense nose for many reasons.

Mouth-watering, luscious, bliss - are all the words coming into mind when you’re looking at her. She’s wearing as little clothing as you would expect someone who leans masculine to wear, but fuck does she know it works for her. Black leather vest worn in, eating you up from the inside out, the musky scent filled with mahogany and a dash of vanilla.

The mysterious blonde's lack of undershirt adorns her body and steals the show. Immediately, she commands attention in every conceivable way. As mesmerizing as the raven-haired beauty appears, you would pay a lot to see her front and center on that stage. The shape of her small breasts is the real show in your mind, and the broad and toned torso gives you much to gawk at.

Nearly, you salivate at the defined four-pack she’s sporting. A pretty enticing deep v disappears delectably into her black leather pants as if she’s a modern-day adonis but with divine feminine written all over her. Without one doubt in the world, she knows she’s the hottest piece of ass in this bar, and for some unknown reason, she’s made you her target for the night. Wined and dined you all night without saying more than a sentence to you, and it seems she’s here to collect.

In the forefront of your mind, you believe it’s to serve some self-serving action to get off from what’s between your thighs, the sweet treat every girl has chased in this long week, but your long-term commitment tying you down like handcuffs to the post of your bed Ellie has kept you in.

Petrifying you to your bones, you aren’t sure what to make of the thrill building up; you can’t deny the longer you look at her, the more your thighs rub together in sync with the other.

“So—” With her tall stature, decisively, she steps forward, lips pressing against your ear with her hot breath seeping under your skin, “Are you wet because you know who I am or because you can’t stop looking at my tits?”

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows quirked up, and you wondered why it was a factor. Was she someone you were supposed to know? Now that she said something, there was something familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “Why would I have any idea who you are?”

Though your pussy has a heartbeat and seems to have a mind of its own. You forget about everything else when the woman gives you a toothy grin, which is too perfect.

“That’s cute, but see, everyone knows who I am—” Abby takes matters into her own hands and begins to nibble on the side of your neck, harshly biting and sucking lightly, taking in the taste of your skin as if she’s trying to find the perfect vein to puncture with her pointy canines. If it were the case, you’d let her suck the life out of you if you got to keep her to yourself for the night. “Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll know by the end of the night.”

She’s passionately driven when her skilled lips and velvet tongue continue to make a mark on you as if you are hers to own, hers to please as she sees fit. You don’t even know her name, but the raging storm of lust isolates you within her honey trap. All of it feels too finite, everlasting, even if it’s just solid concrete to stand on for the night.

Then, you remember Ellie. The longing text sent to you, not even a call. The love of your life, or so you’d always hoped, couldn’t be bothered to call you this entire week. The fallout of an inconceivable aftermath only now did she try to reach out.

“Tell me why you’re soaking wet, baby girl.”

You try to push her back, but she doesn’t even move; her frame is too strong. Now, your warm, firm hand places itself on her defined abdomen, pressing against the clearly defined muscles.

You can’t deny how flushed you’ve become.

This time you are drooling; her thumb wipes away the liquid before she sucks it back into her mouth. Her grin is even more wicked, knowing she has you right where she wants to be.

It’s when you notice the mirrored scorpions, one on either side, her muscular biceps littered with tattoos, and the front of her neck — practically having fuck me written all over her.

You should leave.

You fucking should.

She has an appetite for something else, pulling you by the waistband of your pants, her finger securely wrapped around the belt buckle. Pelvis to pelvis, grinding against you swiftly to see how much you move, and the smile she’s wearing is satisfying enough.

She’s always liked them needy, messy, and so damn right horny they’re putty in her extensive and capable hands.

“I’m waiting.” Her hunger is evident in her tone. She is ready to relish her sudden craving, at least to you.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you confess, hoping it will steer her away from you, but it’s a pathetic attempt.

“Abby. What else is your concern, babygirl?” Her knee sneaks between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt.

“I—” Almost with a soft thrust of her knee, Abby pushes against your cunt, damping her leather with a fucking desirable slick she’s dying to taste. Although it’s clear you like the chase, she gives it.

Had you had sex in the past eight months, you might have pushed away the overly cocky specimen, but it has been that long. Only making the patch in your panties grow as she teases your pussy.

Abby’s frame blocks anyone from seeing what she’s doing to you, your skirt riding up so much she can see the rounded cheeks slipping out, the black fabric slightly exposed under the bar's dim light. The more she presses, the faster your hips move against her.

Without a care in the world, you slid so far back, and you’re on her thigh, strong arms wrapped around you, whispering filthy nothings in your ear as you get yourself off on the stranger’s muscular body. If the bartender notices, she doesn’t mind. Pretends like you’re not even there. You’re not sure which is more embarrassing.

“Fuck, move those hips. Just like that, yeah.”

The high, the one you’ve wanted from your girlfriend who doesn’t even want to touch you, is so close. There’s a burn in your throat infused by sheer guilt that someone else will bring you to head. Some stranger you don’t know, one handsome stranger, yet when she pushes your panties to the side and thumbs your clit it’s so challenging to care about anyone but yourself.

You moan her name as she touches you, a skilled touch as she lightly pinches and soothes the sensitive bud. She completely enraptured you with the light touch she had to offer. Terrifyingly so, it shouldn’t affect you the way it does.

The look in her eyes would have sent you reeling. Her musky scent is already doing enough for you. You find yourself tangled in the webs of honeydew, suckling until you’ve had enough of the sweet sensation.

You’re just not sure how long it’ll be until you do.

“God, acting like you haven’t been fucked, baby. Such a dirty slut letting me do….well, whatever I want.”

Abby uses her free, dominant hand to guide your hips at a pace she sees fit. A thrill shoots down her spine as your incessant need grows like a flower at the dawn of spring—a tiny seed that is useless unless it bears root flourishing from where it’s planted.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Abby questions. A glimmer of assurance fills her ocean eyes. She was playfully biting your exposed shoulder blade.

“I can get you off right here, or you can come home with me.” the incredible sensation of her pierced muscling punching your skin with a chill, the stainless-steel ball adds a new sensation you weren’t expecting. She suckles and bites, marking you the more bruises as if she’s decorative for her enjoyment. “Or both. I think someone is close. I bet you’re ready to spill on my thigh. Wanna give me every last drop like the whore you are.”

“Your home?” you manage to spit out, trying to ignore the filth she spits, but it only brings you closer to your much-needed euphoric bliss. Abby’s efforts double over as if she’s fucked you before, bouncing her leg as as you ride her thigh, knowing exactly what you need to cum all over her.

Typically, the thread of your orgasm wouldn’t have been so easy to pull, but it seems she’s the one who placed it there in the first place. Months of not being touched left you in the hands of this Greek god who could make you feel whatever you wished for.

She’s cocky, confident, and the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen. Yet, the answer is still hard to find.

“Yeah, angel, my place.” You nod, unable to make a verbal confirmation.

“Gotta hear you say it.” Just then, the feeling that was bubbling spills over and all over her hand as she cups your cunt, thumb continuing to rub at your puffy clit.

“Yes, Yes, Yes.” you curse, chants of ecstasy fumble from your loose lips. Carelessly, you’re focused on the intense heartbeat between your legs, your body convulsing against her.

“What's that? M’not sure if I can wear you over your weeping cunt.” Repeatedly, Abby slaps your cunt as punishment.

“I-I want to, fuck, shit. Oh god, yes. I want to go home with you.” Your body slumps against her as she holds up your weight, and your high fades. Still, you feel blissful against her touch. Any other worry plaguing your mind dissipates, and all you think is her and strong muscles keeping you upright.

“Good girl,” she whispers before paying off the tab and putting the lace material pack in place. You feel the white liquid stick to you, filthy, resting against you—the once taintless fabric coated with the pleasures of your sin. Dizzy, unsteady, breathless — it’s everything you feel.

She thrives on knowing you need her. Even if it’s for tonight, the purpose will be served. Regardless of what she needs, this will be even more of a thrill, and the only thing she uses is her hand—not even her dominant one.

Abby moves your skirt down so your ass is covered again. “C’mon, pretty girl. let’s see how much of a slut you are." She leads you outside while she makes quick work of her phone, and suddenly, there’s a sleek black car, a Cadillac, you assume, with a driver in tow. The windows are tinted enough for you to wonder if it’s even legal. Silver rims, with a diamond emblem in the center shining so bright under the moonlight that it nearly takes your attention from the woman who has you in her grip.

“Last chance? I can have her drive you home.” She smirks, knowing you won’t take the out that’s being so generously given. Perfect, beautiful, she thinks, eyes still dilated from you getting off on her thing and the continuous swipe of the pad of her thumb.

It’s there. The smidge of penance you feel you’re obligated to ask for. Regardless of how amazing it feels, there’s something about the ending. This will be the end of all fuck ups; maybe, there’s still hope for the two of you if you go home. Call Ellie in the morning before the need to suppress the shame.

But don’t you deserve this one thing for yourself?

Everything under the sun has been for the auburn-haired beauty who has held your heart from the moment she patched up your bleeding knee. The moment a total stranger managed to win your heart, an adolescent love that knew nothing of the lesson of heartbreak or the years you chased after Ellie while she was chasing others.

How she let her feelings hover over the friendship of years with no consequence, especially after her long-term high school girlfriend, the one whose heart she broke into a tiny million pieces. Tragically, there still stood an existing fear for you. She was just a kid, but would she move on as quickly now as she did back then? It was as if they meant nothing to her, moving from the next one as if the time spent together had been insignificant, meaningless, just an ease to pass the misery of time.

You feared you would be the same.

Falling under the same umbrella, but you hope you are different. There were talks of marriage and settling into the countryside once she could retire. A shared dream, you thought. Perhaps it was a foolish sin to keep close to your heart.

Then there was Abby, a heavenly distraction from all the dread waiting for you. Everything you must pick back up eventually if you want to stay tucked into the nightlife of New York is just your dreams hanging up on the shelf, totting away with the relationship. An expiration date was labeled on the two of you, and an impending doom you could only fall through.

Everything was always for her.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

“What’s it going to be, princess?” She pulled you towards as she spun you around with ease, back pulled to her chest, her lips kissing your ear. All you could focus on was how strong she felt. Her strong hold bending you to her will wouldn’t be a challenge. If she wanted to, she could do whatever she liked. You are sure no isn’t a word she’s used to hearing.

But it went further than just how she looks.

It’s in the way she doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have you hooked on her. It entices you, thinking about how long she’d been staring at you all night. The curve of your ass in your tight, little skirt — was she staring at it? Did she think about all the ways she could fuck your perfect little hole if you would let her do everything she’d been thinking of? The way your hardened nipples poked through your mesh top. If she said anything, you could blame it on the draft, not just her sheer presence making them protrude through the fabric.

She did no work whatsoever to make you cum, letting you use her to get yourself off. There was an ease to it. One you hadn’t experienced before.

Here she is, using it against you again.

“Am I coming in the car with you, or will you rub your clit, alone, wishing you’d let me fuck you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming?” Her hands sneak under the lace, pinching your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your hips buck up, aching to be touched by her again.

“Just give in, baby. I know you want to.” Her dominant hand abandons your nipple, leaving the other to tease it. While she escapes underneath your skirt once again, “So wet for me already, huh?” Harshly, she grips your cunt, a finger sliding up your slit, but she’s intentional about not letting it slip in.

“I-I shouldn’t, shit, oh my g—” You try to think of an excuse, one good enough to convince yourself you should not go through with this. “I really shouldn’t.”

“And?” Abby’s canines dig into the side of your neck as she teasingly bites the flesh, soothing it with a velvet tongue, making more marks on the side she hadn’t touched tonight. “Are you taken?”

“That’s a complicated question.” Abby grins at your response with a sinister smirk.

“Well, if she’s not making you happy, let me do it for her.” Abby tilts your jaw, forcing you to gaze at her.

“Let me guess, no one has touched this perfect pussy in a long time. So, fucking neglected, huh?”

“I didn’t say I had a—”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Your pussy dripping with shame at her words.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You admit. Abby continues to torture you with the split of your slit, the two of you starting to draw attention, but you think it just excites her even more. “I haven’t felt—”

The moment you say the words, Abby spins you around. You whine at her touch leaving your pussy, but she makes up for it slightly when her hands palm your ass. “Tell me. Look me in my eyes, baby, and tell me what you need. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your hands weave themselves into her golden locks. You are intertwined with the waves that disguise themselves as shimmering waterfalls. But you look down as you try to think of some excuse to leave and make yourself leave with dignity.

Big mistake.

The happy trail, the blonde hair travels inside her pants, leaving you in awe underneath the moonlight. Abby’s leather vest pushed off slightly, her tits still covered with black pasties.

“Why don’t you take them off? Wanna see my pretty tits, baby?” You nod with too much eagerness. Abby chuckles.

She watches with a smirk as you take them off. The silver, shining barbell has you moan at the sight of them—the sight of her. Smudged black eyeliner makes her appear even more irresistible, hooded eyes gazing at you; a gentle hand finds your throat, applying pressure with her thumb, constraining your breathing slightly.

“Fuck, they are perfect.” You confess, your eyes gleaming at her pink nipples exposed before meeting with her eyes once again.

“Yeah, they are, but they would look even better with your pretty lips around them.”

She will not give up.

“This is such a bad idea.” Abby knows your mind is made up, and you’ll come home with her. Even if the guilt swarms like a bee to a honey hive, it’s all the same to her. “But, God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Your hands roam her toned, tattooed torso, the scorpions so delicious you want to outline every detail with your tongue. The thought of being strong has worn off—only the woman before you is on your mind.

“Well, to me, it seems you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Fingertips grazing her tits, her nipple hardening underneath you touch. “I’ll let you do whatever you want after I’m done with you. Well, if you still have the energy.”

A grumbling of frustration leaves your lips — you aren’t sure if it’s a desperate plea, a sigh of relief, or something else entirely.

“Like what?” You can’t stop touching her breasts, continuing to tease her pink nipple, but you meet her eyes. Abby’s positive you’ve never seen a smirk so wide.

“What do you like?” Abby pushes your hair back, fuck me eyes looking up at her. The ones that hadn’t left from the moment you laid eyes on her. She leans down just a little so her lips are pressed against your ear, “Do you wanna fuck my ass? Want me to sit on your gorgeous face while you eat me out? Fuck me in front of the mirror and watch my face when I cum?”

Grabbing your hair, she yanks it. Exposing the expanse of your neck. She’s grown so fond of marking. The slick between her thighs continued to blossom as you let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Like a whimpering bitch in heat, you took everything she had to offer.

Fuck it.

You cradle her face with her palms, smashing her lips to yours. It’s all tongue and teeth. Rough palms squeezing your ass, making you grind into her again. Your force casually lets her stumble into the car but you don’t let up. Whimpering and moaning into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, as if this moment will slip right through your fingers.

Her breath smells of fresh mint, her tongue casually dominates yours, staking claim to what she already believes to be hers. It’s then you realize your forever doomed because you feel the fluttering in your stomach as she growls in your mouth, animalistic — your pelvis grinding against her much more defined one.

You pull apart for one moment, unable to take one more moment away from her.

If you don’t get it, her tongue, her cunt, those pretty fingers decorated in silver jewelry, hell, you would settle for her pierced nipples rubbing against your clit.

“Abby?” She stops, opening her eyes to see you. You’re even more fucked out than she is. “Yes, baby?” She hums into your mouth, the sweet sensation vibrating your entire body.

“Let’s stop giving everyone a show and give me one.” Abby nods, the first sign of her eagerness as she opens the door for you, unable to keep her hands off you.

“We better go before you soak my car then, hm?” She slaps your ass as she leads you in.

—

As she has you in tow, hand in yours leading you towards the elevator in her building, the most luxurious one you’ve seen, one so high you’re sure it’s the highest in the skyline of New York City.

It isn’t surprising she has her own driver, or she lives in the penthouse of the building, even the plaques decorating the wall — a shrine to her evident success. Everything just…makes sense. Yet there’s a pit in your stomach, crawling and feasting. It's swarming within you, a nagging incessant fly buzzing around warning you to run. You don’t have much time to think about how horrible of an idea this is.

Alone with someone who could easily overpower you, at the mercy of a complete stranger yet when she puts her arms around your waist, all of it seems to melt away. She’s given you no reason not to trust her. You’re just thinking too much.

That’s all it is.

The little voice chants in your head, trying to make excuses for yourself as to not go through with this but they dissipate when her calloused palms find home on your waist. Soothing over your delicate skin, enticing you into her impenetrable web. Everything about her intoxicates you. Making every thought vacant your head, even more so when she starts playing with the hem of your skirt.

“Let me get you a drink.” She kisses your temple before going behind the makeshift bar in the dining room. An assortment of every liquor component known behind her. Part of you thinks she’s doing it for show, the way her biceps flex as she shakes the drink in the silver canister, pointingly making the drink you’d been ordering all night long.

So, she had been watching you all night. You knew if she wasn’t as hot as she is, you’d be creeped out. But it’s hard to be creeped out when she’s still shirtless, the black leather vest doing very little to cover her. Any time she moves you see her pink pierced nipples, nearly making you salivate.

With the Mexican martini in her grip, with her own in the other, you’re stuck. You didn’t think she’d actually want to have a conversation with you. Leading you out to the balcony, almost the entire view of the city before your very eyes, practically causing you to freeze in your footsteps.

“Wow.” Unable to conceal it, you voice your immediate awe. Abby chuckles, the first sign of sincerity you’ve seen all night. Everything else only seemed as a woman trying to get a needed fuck but right now but she hasn’t even tried to even so much as kiss you. Taking small sips of her whiskey, hip touching yours as the moonlight reflects from the water to her blue eyes, nearly as vivid as the moon itself.

“Yeah, it’s quite a view, think it’s the only thing keeping me coming back here. I’m on the road so much, it’s nice to have some stability.” Abby smiles softly, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can catch it. ”A pretty penny for me to keep it but it’s worth it.”

“Is this your move then?” You know the martini is doing the talking for you, if not you’d be a mumbling mess unable to form one sentence that even sounds remotely coherent. Abby quirks one of her blonde eyebrows upwards but keeps her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what you do with everyone?”

Abby takes a step closer to you, giving you all her attention. She plays with the chain on your neck, pulling it lightly to bring you closer to her. Carefully eyeing you up and down, smirking as she does, “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie like I do with everyone else?”

It’s more than you expected her to offer. A careless lie would have suited her more. If there is one thing you know for sure, Abby could get anyone she wants and she wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t want you to be here.

“Are you capable of the truth? M’not sure you are.” For once, Abby is a bit silent. Carefully, she contemplates on what to say next. She isn’t sure what she should say. Usually she’s the one laying the honey traps for the swarming bees but right now? Abby feels like the control is slipping from her grip.

She can’t have that.

“Which one is going to make that guilt easier on your conscience?” Abby smirks as the shame fills your eyes. “It’s a girlfriend, isn’t it? It always is.” Anyone else would take two steps back, maybe even see themselves out but you want to prove a point.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The immediate rejection of your very real girlfriend fills you with even more shame than you know what to do with. Abby chuckles at the omission, the way your voice shrieks out the statement with a sense of urgency. A desperate action to cover the truth. “Sure you don’t.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Your voice raises as you lean into Abby, her firm hands on your waist as you both face each other. Abby nods, tongue poking through her cheek, pulling at your necklace once again. Admiring the curve in the E, the gold chain shining. It’s a pretty necklace, probably one your girlfriend gave you but Abby makes no comment of it.

“Yeah, okay, and I hate pussy.” Abby giggles. You think it’s so cute, it shouldn’t even be funny, but it is. Just like earlier in the night, you’re so close to her, nothing as slim as a sheet of paper could fit in between the two of you. Without even thinking about it, you rest your hand on her abdomen again, her strength tangible as you feel her up once again. Truly, you’re unable to stop touching her. Every part of you wants this to happen, even if it comes back to bite you in the ass, the curiosity and your fluttering cunt can’t really think of anything else.

“You can still walk out that door. Just say the word and my driver will take you home.” Abby whispers into the busy street beneath you, it’s so faint from the distance but the two of you can hear it. “Or you can let me slide your pretty little skirt up and let me make a slut of you, babygirl.”

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s your throbbing clit, maybe it’s the lack of contact in months, most of all maybe it’s the fact Ellie took so long to reach out, but you give in. Throwing your arms around her neck, pulling her lips to yours, regardless of the possible consequence looming after you, threatening to tear apart the picture perfect life you thought you’re living.

All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Abby’s tongue staking claim, dominating in ways you didn’t know were possible before she’s pushing your front against the balcony, placing your hand on the railing. With ease, she maneuvers your body in just the way she wants. “Gotta tell me yes pretty girl, that’s the only way this is going to start.”

Facing the view, the buzzing city filled with nightlife and wonder, endless possibilities on your fingertips but you’re thinking about her hands. How much you want them inside you, fucking you full, or the strap in her pants you’d be rubbing against earlier. The thoughts of her slipping her cock inside you, claiming you in a way no one has in awhile. Making you feel wanted, needed, even if it was a fleeting feeling just for the night. You deserve it. Just one, stupid, decision — you were owed at least one.

“Yes, s’what I want. You.” That’s all it takes before Abby pushes your skirt to your waist, sliding off your panties as she allows you to step out of them.

“Are you sure?” Abby questions you. She pushes off from you, you hear her zipper being brought down as you look back at her, her vest being chucked to the lawn chair by the pool.

Fuck.

If she’s even half as good as she’s claiming to be, you are so fucked.

“I’m sure.”

Abby wraps her hands around your waist again, hands dipping under your shirt as she squeezes your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with her fingers. You sigh instantly, loving the stimulation she’s providing. You feel the barrel of her tongue piercing as she lightly sucks behind the sweet spot behind your ear, as if Abby's the one to place it there in the first place.

“Good.” Abby teases your entrance with her cock, your body shuddering as it slides over your folds, using your slick as lubricant. Already, you’re grinding against her, just like before as she guides your hips in the pace she likes. “Do you like getting off on my cock, baby?”

“Mhm, yeah, I do.” It’s all but a whisper. Abby still hears you speak, slapping your ass playfully, blunt fingers digging into the skin. She can’t believe anyone not wanting to touch you, not wanting to make you feel good. You’re the hottest person she’s ever fucking seen. Your ass, your tits, the moans spilling from your mouth, it’s been in her filthiest dreams.

“What about now?” Abby lets her cock slip inside you, stretching out your walls as you take everything she has to offer. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled like this, your cunt greedily taking every inch has she slides in further and further. With a tight grip, you hold onto the railing as she thrust with her strong hips forward, your back arching so deep as she places her hand on your lower back, forcing the bend.

“Oh…” Abby grins at your desperate moans, “You really do know how to be a good girl and take it.” Her name falls from your lips like a stuttering prayer, as if she’s the god you’re praising at the altar. With each thrust, Abby back more of her strength into, packing a powerful punch to your cunt. Pulling at the strings, already making you see stars as you take from the angle.

“Fuck!” With no warning, Abby pulls at your hair, your body conforming to her will. She could do as she pleased and you would let her. You wonder if you even had a chance or if this is what was meant to be. Her speed grows rapidly, your stomach doing flips as she penetrates you, fucking you until you’re irrevocably spent.

“See? You’re just a whore. My whore. Got you cock drunk for me. Don’t I?” Abby thumbs with your clit, making you see stars. Lost in the effortlessness of her actions, calloused fingers playing you like her drums set. With ease, from memory she pulled out a performance, just like she did at every show, aiming to please her audience.

“Do you—” Abby draws circles on your puffy clit, your growl as you attempt to push through your words. “Shit, I’m—”

“Hm?” You hear it, the sound of your cunt being fucked blending into the busy street, her hands pulling you on her cock over and over. “Didn’t think I’d take it easy on you now, did you?”

“I just didn’t think you’d actually feel this good.” With one particular hard thrust, Abby has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body begins to shake at her ministrations.

“We’re just getting started but I wanna see that gorgeous face.” She pulls out of you as she sits on the nearest lawn chair, “Hop back on, babygirl, s’all yours to use.” You remove the rest of your clothes, the E chain the only thing adorning your body.

Messily, Abby spits on her large palm, mixing your slick coating her cock making sure she’d be nice and ready for you to slide right back on. You grip her soft, freckled shoulders as she helps guide you, her blue eyes darkening as she sees the bliss written all over your face. Sinking on her cock is a sight Abby wants to replay in her mind, the high pitched moan that releases from your body is food for her soul.

“Fuck yourself on me, babygirl. Mhm, show me how much you need it.” You lean her forehead against yours, look in her beautiful blues, feeling a strange sense of intimacy as she fucks hours brains out. Abby likes the fact you have no idea who she is but you’re riding her like no tomorrow.

When you start bouncing on her cock, Abby loses all coherent thought. Your not so subtle bounce of your tits, she loves them so much she cranes her neck to suck on your nipples, her tongue piercing adding a new sensation, unable to stop your pussy from gushing around her.

“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this? Mhm, I don’t think so. My sweet babygirl, so frustrated, and all you need is some good fucking cock, huh?”

“All I need is you.” Abby thrusts her hips into you, her heavily ring hand slips her pinky ring off, the shimmering gold is placed on your clit, your body jerking from someone so cold on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Since you can’t feel the little ball on my tongue right now, I suppose this will have to do.”

“Is that so, baby? Need me?” Abby glances over your shoulder before looking back at you, before she continuously meets the roll of your hips with her thrusts. “Dirty fucking slut, so horny for your cunt to be fucked properly. It’s why you came out tonight, why you got off on my thigh at the bar, why you couldn’t stop looking at me, s’why your hands have been over me all fucking night.”

“Abby, shit, keep talking like that.”

“Hm, you like when I call you my dirty slut? When I tell you how needy you are for me? Bet you would have let me bend you over the bar and fucked you right there.” You’re groaning, you scream her name so loudly, Abby can’t help but grin with a sinister smirk.

“Yes, would let you do anything.” Abby hums approvingly, the cool sensation of her diamond encrusted ring doing wonders to bring you over the edge, “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever—”

One particular hard thrust has Abby wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you up as your body nearly becomes deadweight, her head making home on your shoulder. It’s when she steps into the light, met with Abby’s darkness. The night she had perfectly curated to fully benefit her, the strategic planning of a rotten apple, split right down the middle when push came to shove.

—

Three Months Prior…

“You said you would tell her.” The frustration written all over Abby’s face, her voice only raising an octave higher. Abby has never been so disgusted with herself, stopping so low, thinking she would get chosen over the long term girlfriend.

Stupid.

“I know what I said. I’m telling you, I can’t.” Ellie pinches the bridge of her button nose, trying to concentrate as Abby makes no move to do anything else but continue to fuck Ellie’s cunt.

“Oh no?” Abby slips a third finger in her pussy as she shoves her face between her slender thighs. “You don’t wanna tell her why you won’t fuck her anymore? All the light night calls with your manager are flights to come to my penthouse and get your pussy fucked out?”

Her tongue dips into Ellie’s pussy, she flattens her pierced tongue, the cool golden ball adding stimulation to the weeping woman’s clit, her body jerking at the action. “She’s too fucking good for you.” The speed of the bigger girl’s fingers send Ellie into godspeed, flirting with another dimension as she allows Abby to play tricks on her pussy.

The reason she comes back, no one makes her cum like she does, not even you. Abby wants more but Ellie refuses to give it, not willing to leave you even if you know what she’s been doing, all the lies she’s told in order to fuck Abby, you’d never look her way again. “She can't do this though? It’s why you keep coming back, you need my fingers stuffed in your pussy.” Abby’s fingers are reaching so deep, kissing Ellie’s cervix as she grips onto her wrist, bucking her hips up into the rockstar’s fingers.

“Maybe I should give them to her instead. I’m sure she would be more grateful.” Abby spits sloppily on Ellie’s pussy, kitten licking her clit until she sucks it in her mouth, tongue rapidly flicking over her bundle of nerves. Abby tsks, “Selfish slut, cum on daddy’s tongue like you fucking mean it.”

Like the greedy whore she is, Ellie squirts into Abby’s mouth and the blonde doesn’t waste a single moment, she slurps obnoxiously on Ellie’s cunt. “Fucking whore.” Her tongue flattens as he licks from her puckered hole to her clit, every drop dispersing into mouth.

Ellie’s entire body shakes, barely registering when Ellie throws on a robe, leaving it open and she lights up a cigarette on the balcony of her bedroom. Ellie whines for Abby.

“This was the last time.” With a flip of a switch, Abby’s tone changes, her cunt with her blonde pubes making her pussy appear even more irresistible, all she wanted was to get on her knees for Abby, repay the favor but the stoic look on her face tells her she won’t be getting anywhere near her tonight.

She exhales a puff of smoke, her sun kissed skin reflecting off the moonlight, every defined line of muscle making her even more beautiful. “But why? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?”

“No but I’m not interested in being someone’s side piece. I’m the main fucking show.” Abby shrugs her shoulders matter of factly, “Show yourself out, Williams.”

—

The memory flashes before Abby’s eyes, she’s sure it’s crossing Ellie’s mind, her worst nightmare playing in front of her. Her girlfriend, screaming her mistress’s name, as she clings onto Abby like a second life line. The look of horror in her emerald eyes, she would know your body everywhere, it’s you.

“All mine, my pretty pussy baby, m’babygirl gonna cum soon? yeah? can you do that for me?” Every word spoken was salt in the wound, smearing in as Ellie stood frozen still. The text was deliberately sent tonight for her own demise. Using Ellie’s needy nature against her, but it seems someone else was quite needy, but fuck was she prettier.

Ellie is a fucking idiot, Abby thought.

Knowing how much she loved it, Abby brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the digit, then she teases your puckered hole and you’re begging to convulse. Letting yourself be held by Abby, but your hips don’t stop moving.

No.

You’re fucking yourself even harder on her.

“Mommy, please? Make me cum, fuck, need to cum all over your cock. Gonna dump her for you, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” With her finger only slightly slipping into your ass, you see pull on her golden waves, allowing yourself to slip into the hold of rotten intentions. Ellie has seen enough as she slams the door on her way out but you’re too fucked out to even clock it.

“Good girl. Let it go. Mommy’s got you. Mhm, give it all to me, baby.” When she’s don’t fucking you into another dimension, Abby lays back on the chair, feeling quite satisfied with her successful plot of revenge.

Even better, she has you.

You fall on top of her, still stuffed full, when she finds sucking on her nipples. Your tongue toying with the barbell, pushing and pulling as Abby takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night.” You giggle lightly, Abby drawing random patterns on your exposed back. She doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt as she lets you suck on her tits, marking her porcelain skin. You’re already more of a giver than Ellie, she smiles at the thought.

“Don’t have to apologize. Never going to say no to a beautiful girl sucking my tits.”

She’s entirely mesmerized by you, in ways she hasn’t been before. Truthfully, she almost came from seeing you cum. Never in her life has someone brought her so close without having her pussy in their mouth. “Do you want the driver to take you home or do you want to go for round two? I’d like to fuck you on my bed, feel your dripping cunt on mine, make you forget about that pathetic girlfriend of yours.”

You forget she’s still inside you because you sit up fully and you’re moaning, again.

“I’d like that but let me give you another ride, yeah?”

Unbeknownst to you, the rotten apple lays beneath you, the same E chain hidden beneath the countless chains adorning her neck but sometimes they can taste just as divine as the sweet one. Sour or sweet? That’s for you to decide.

Bloody, intentional, reckless — Abby Anderson has brought it all.

Showing Ellie just how sweet something rotten could really be if preserved for someone else.

reblogs and extra thots are appreciated! hope you enjoyed ♡

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @grey-jedi12 @r3starttt @bittersu1te @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworldd @aouiaa @mytwoseater @cherrybunny @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-a-gay @pa-co @rkivedpages @lucidfairies @vxqen @liizzygrant @ivka165-blog @yourfriendlyneighboorhoodeden @lluvme9 @wifeoftish @wildcatsgs @skzhoiic c @sheadoreshannah @angelynn-nicole @dizzy-dyke @crackhead237 @fairydxll @ellieusedtampon @bottom4butches @slxtcity

sorry if you aren’t tagged, my tumblr likes to be a butt. </3

#tumblr put my stuff in the tags challenge!#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams smut #ellabs smut #ellabs x reader

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igobets · 2 years ago

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https://partnerbcgame.com/dcc75bb58

teehee 🤭🤭

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cottoncalicoes · 1 month ago

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A little bit of you in everything I see

— Itoshi Sae x AFAB!Reader • Word Count: 1.4k —

Content warnings: gn!reader, established relationship, cunnilingus, probably ooc sae, reader has hair long enough to be pulled back, very brief mention of feet

There is a familiarity in coming home to you that sets Sae at ease. The knots loosen from his shoulders; the furrow in his brow dissipates. It’s as predictable as his alarms that blare in the early morning; the taste of his shake his nutritionist insists he drinks every day. The sun falls, the moon rises, and Itoshi Sae returns to you.

The second step from the top leading to your house creaks, it’s been there since you first looked at the place. It’s something Sae grumbled in distaste about when first walking up to your potential home.

I think it’s cute, you’d said, it adds character.

Various plants are scattered along your porch, dirt littered about from you repotting another one of your ‘babies’ as you lovingly call them; he makes note to tease you about it once he’s inside. Slender fingers trace lovingly at the line of chipped paint on the door. He remembers how it got there well, the day you moved in. He should have been annoyed when it happened; younger Sae would have. But you’d popped your head over the couch you'd insisted on moving together, face flushed with exertion, eyes bright with mischief.

We don’t need movers, Itoshi, you’d insisted, what good are your big strong soccer muscles for if they don’t get proper use?

Sae calls his greeting from the door and hears your familiar voice call back. You’re on the couch, he’s sure, much like you are most nights he returns from his late practices. He’ll slide his shoes off and shuffle his way to you. Press a kiss to your lips as you rest your head on the back of the couch. You’ll tease him about being late, but leftovers will be kept warm in the oven like they always are.

He rounds the corner to greet you; and a strong sense of arousal courses through his veins at the sight. It’s not unfamiliar, the sight of you in his clothes. Before you’d moved in together, he’d often complain about his missing items you’d stuff into your overnight bag when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Something’s different and yet everything’s the same. You smile softly at him, an old jersey drapes prettily along your dewy skin. Your hair is pulled back and a book rests in the crook of your legs. He’s not sure what it is; the scent of your shampoo wafting through his nose, the smile you give him when he steps closer, the stars, the moon, the rain that has his senses overflowing with nothing but you, you, you.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet, “I already ate, your leftovers are in the oven for you.”

Sae hums noncommittally, takes note of the surprise on your face when he breaks routine. He’s careful to mark your spot in the book, pulls your legs apart so he can nestle between them. The warmth of you is so strong it nearly overwhelms him; welcomes it instead by nestling his face into your soft stomach, nearly mewling when your fingers card through his hair.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, love silently.

He shrugs his shoulders in response. Not a terrible day, not a good day. Just— A Day. He doesn’t speak, but you know him well enough to read between the lines. What little he gives you yet so much you take. Pull the words from the quirk of brows and the way his lashes flutter.

“Missed you.” He mutters into the fabric of his jersey, he shuffles about before pulling it up so he can rest against your bare skin.

“Missed you more, handsome,” you keen, “any particular reason you’re extra cuddly today? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Sounds like complaining to me,” he teases.

You scoff at him, pinch at his side and you feel his grin grow from the way he’s pressed against you.

His cock twitches when you hum a familiar tune, and the domesticity of it all makes him queasy. Arousal flows so violently through his veins he nearly grinds himself into the couch.

Sae almost feels bad for ruining the soft moment between the two of you, but when his lips ghost over the hem of your panties and he feels the way your breath hitches, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh I see,” he’s certain a smirk is plastered on your face as you speak, “you missed me.”

Tease as you may, Sae knows you want him just as bad. He can tell from the way your hips twitch ever so slightly in an attempt to bring him closer. His tongue laves at your hip before his teeth sink softly into your side. You grab at his head despite the fabric that separates the two of you, attempting to grab at his hair between the layers.

“I’m gonna make you cum.”

It’s more a statement than a question; but with the way Sae knows you, reads your tells, he doesn’t need to ask. He can’t see you, but he feels the way your body shakes as you nod frantically, maneuvering yourself into a more comfortable position for the two of you.

He doesn’t bother pulling your underwear down yet, he knows you like it better this way. When his tongue runs across the slick fabric; the rough drag of cotton against your clit when he presses as close to your heat as he can.

You cry out his name at the first drag of his tongue, legs falling open easily so he can pull you closer. Your legs curl over his shoulders, heels digging into the muscles of his back while he has his way with you.

Sae groans into you when your taste finally seeps through the spit soaked fabric; grinds his hips into the couch when you finally pull the jersey up to watch the way he eats you.

He does this for what feels like hours; laps greedily at your clit, pushes his tongue against the fabric teasingly against your hole. A promise of what’s to come.

“Please,” you whine, “give it to me, baby.”

There’s no need for you to beg, Sae will give it to you. You’ll never truly need anything when he’s around; something he’s proved to you time and time again. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches when you pout down at him though. Pretty lips swollen from you gnawing at them while he pleasures you.

Normally he’d take the time to pull your panties down. He’d kiss at the sole of your foot before nipping at your ankle; throw your legs over his shoulders before he fucks you open with his tongue.

But he’s feeling a little desperate; hands pulling your underwear to the side before putting as much of his mouth onto you that he can. Your legs attempt to snap close around his head, but he welcomes the suffocating feeling. His tongue fucks as much of your cum from you as it can; head bobbing ever so slightly so his nose can catch against your swollen clit.

“Don’t stop, Sae,” you cry out.

As if he would.

Tender hands massage at your thighs, holding you open so he can spit onto the mess you’d created together. You always get so sloppy when he eats you like this; slick slipping down beneath the couch as your hole clenches in desperation to be stuffed full.

You’re close. Sae can tell from the way your hands frantically reach to ground yourself with something before settling in his hair. You yank harshly, but he welcomes the sting. Groans loudly into your heat as your hips buck to meet with the thrusts of his tongue.

He wants to tell you it’s okay, to let go and cum on his tongue; but he dare not pull away. Not when you’re this close; when your cunt tastes so good and your hands tug at his hair and—

“Cumming!” You cry out, “You— you’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s intense like it always is with him; almost annoying how well he can unravel you so quickly, just to be the one to wind you back up again.

Slick gushes from your hole and Sae greedily laps at it, tongue plunging into you as you whine and cry that it’s too much.

He finally slows when the aftershocks of pleasure wash over you; reprieve granted as he kisses at the fat of your thighs.

He doesn’t move far from his position, merely rests his head against the kiss bitten flesh. Heavy breaths fall from your lips as you smile shyly down at him.

“Hi,” you murmur. So softly, so sweetly Sae feels his aching cock twitch again.

“Hi,” he replies, fingers tracing patterns into your sweat slicked skin.

A car passes by, your A/C hums to life, Sae’s leftovers sit in the oven forgotten; and he feels his heart grow.

a/n: this is my first time writing him plz be nice 😖 ty to my pookie @a-ikuoliver for reading over this for me ily bad. i haven’t written fic in a few months so im a bit rusty im sry

#cottoncalicoes #writing.bllk #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader

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alotofpockets · 1 year ago

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My jersey | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Reader

Prompt: "You're wearing my jersey."

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 1k

When Katie asked you to come back to Ireland with her to visit her family, you were very excited as it was a big step in your relationship. However, now that you had landed in Ireland, you were only feeling nervous. “They are going to love you.” Katie reassured you one more time before entering her childhood home. Your girlfriend had a big family but the following week it would be mostly her parents and her younger sister Lauryn at the house.

As Katie predicted, her parents loved you, and you got along great. They made Katie’s favorite meal for her coming home dinner, which according to Sharon was a tradition they created years ago. You thought it was a very sweet tradition and were happy to participate with the amazing food that was served. The first day of your stay was short, since you landed pretty late, so after dinner you played some games with her family before calling it a night.

The next morning you wake up before Katie, you get up and look around her childhood bedroom, something you didn’t get to last night. Her shelves are full of trophies and medals, and the wall above her dresser is filled with pictures of her with her family and friends. Your eyes land on one with her and Lauryn, both decked out in muddy soccer gear, paired with big smiles. “Good morning, baby.” Katie says from behind you. “Good morning, darling.” You quickly make your way back to the bed for some morning cuddles, placing soft kisses on her lips once you’re under the covers again.

Katie has a meeting with her national team coaches today, which she was currently getting ready for. “Are you sure you’ll be fine here? I would take you with me if I could, I promise.” Katie asks for the fifth time this morning. “Yes, darling, I will be fine. Now go, you’re going to be late.” You say while practically dragging her out of her bedroom.

Once Katie was out the door you realized that her sister was looking a bit sad, you sat down on the couch with her. “Hey, Lauryn, is everything alright?” You ask her. “It’s fine.” She quickly shoots back but you could read on her face that it wasn’t. “Okay, I won’t push but know that you can talk to me if you want to.” You were about to stand up to give the girl some space, when she started to confide in you. “Katie promised to help me practice but now she’s here but is in meetings, and you’re here. No offense of course, I’m very glad that Katie has found someone, and you’re really nice, I just meant that I know she will want to spend time with you.” You nod along to what she shares. “Well, two things. First of all, Katie has been talking about you the whole week. How far you’ve come with soccer already, how proud she is of you, and how excited she is to play with you.” You give Lauryn a moment to let the first part sink in before you continue. “Second of all, I know family is very important to Katie, and I would never stand in between that. I want you to know that my relationship with your sister does not change anything for your relationship with her. You need her, and she will be there, that will never change. Not that she would in the first place, but I would never let her break any promise that she made to you.” You managed to get a smile back on Lauryn’s face. “Thank you, y/n. I needed that.” You share a quick hug.

“Hey, I know I’m no Katie McCabe, captain of the Ireland national team, but I’ve got some experience being on the England national team and all.” You joke, “Would you like to go to the field and kick the ball around?” You both head to your rooms to change, meeting back downstairs.

When Katie gets back she only finds her mom there. “Hi mum, have you seen y/n?” Her mom smiles, knowing her daughter had found a good one, having overheard your earlier conversation with Lauryn. “Yeah, y/n and Lauryn went to the field a little over an hour ago.” Katie thanks her mother before heading to the field.

She realizes that neither one of you had noticed her yet, so she took that time to admire the scene in front of her. You were running drills with her sister. Showing Lauryn a technique and then helping her perfect it. The interaction with her sister wasn't the only thing she was admiring. She was also admiring you in the jersey you were wearing. An Ireland jersey with her name and number on the back.

She snaps a quick picture before she shoots the ball that had come rolling her way back your way, successfully hitting the back of the net. Both you and Lauryn turn around to see who took the shot, you smile when you see Katie. “Show off!” You yell her way.

You meet her half way, while Lauryn continues working on the technique you just showed her. “Hi darling. How was your meeting?” You say before placing a kiss to her cheek. “It was good, they wanted my opinion on some potential new recruits.” While Katie talks about the meeting, you notice she keeps looking at your outfit with a doped grin. “What's got you smiling like that, darling?” You ask pretending you don't know the reason.

"You're wearing my jersey." She states, still checking you out. “I like it.” She quickly pecks your lips, before running off to join her sister on the field. Seeing you wearing her national team jersey felt so special to her, especially since you play for a different country.

You spend the rest of the afternoon on the field with Katie and Lauryn, only heading back when it was time for dinner. The food was amazing, once again. All the nerves about meeting Katie's family had dissolved after meeting them, they made you feel right at home.

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#pockets celebration #katie mccabe #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #irewnt #engwnt #lauryn mccabe

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suniloli · 7 months ago

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JUST FOR KICKS

29 May 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: approximately 3 swear words, sexual innuendo, fluff

Setting: Prison (between s3-4)

Summary: Today’s weather was perfect for an impromptu prison soccer match. Prison goers — children, adults and spectators alike — become involved, including an enthusiastic you and uncharacteristically playful Daryl.

Author Note: Finally back from my 3000 year hiatus!!!! Here’s a little piece I wanted to get out before I lost it. This is more of an innocent one that I wanted to write (although it’s SUPER predictable ….) I hope the POV jumps are easily followable. Am working on another Daryl fic atm. Enjoy! - Sól

The gorgeous spring sun in the sky and the soft warm breeze were the perfect conditions to be outside and enjoying life. Well, what ‘life’ you could experience within the prison’s metal fences in the middle of an apocalypse anyways.

This sort of weather was your favourite. It reminded you of your sporting days before walkers came to be, especially the excitement you felt before your games where you’d soak up the sun and let it fuel your competitiveness. Like a videogame character harnessing the sun’s power to unleash their most powerful combat moves.

It boosted your spirit, and reminded you that even in this world, beauty could still be found. You just had to be open to it.

And open to it you were. When a couple of the teenagers came excitedly kicking around a soccer ball they’d found, you couldn’t help yourself. Many others felt the same way, which is probably how you all ended up in a massive soccer game across the courtyard, children mixed with adults, the majority of prison goers spectating on the sidelines.

You managed to get enough to have a 6 v 6, exactly three teens and three adults on each team. Your side included some of your closest friends, Glenn and Sasha. On the other side were Carl and Michonne, and some other Woodbury residents you’d seen around and shared a laugh or two with. Today felt the closest to the life you had before, which was one of sport-filled weekends. So, naturally, it brought out your zealous streak. You were going to win.

“Guys. We need to fucking smash em’.” you asserted.

“Y/N! There's kids here…” Glenn jokingly admonished.

“We’re 15 man…” one of the teenagers pointed out.

“Anyways…they’re gonna lose whether they like it or not. I’ll play up front. Glenn…you’re quick, so you’ll be with me…uh…” you drifted off, attempting to come up with a game plan. You were so focused that you hadn’t realised the run crew had arrived back and were driving towards the gates. Glenn and Sasha were watching you with amusement. The kids were waiting for your word. You were the professional after all.

“She’s super into this,” Sasha smirked.

“Hell yeah!” Glenn smiled. “She’s really good at soccer. We’ve had many conversations about it. Mad skills.”

Sasha patted his shoulder. “Guess we’re gonna have to step up our game then.”

After deliberating with the kids for a bit, you and your team were ready.

It was time.

The whistle — an actual whistle someone had found — was blown by Carol, and the game was on.

Oh, was the high shrill music to your ears.

Kick-off commenced, the other team passing it amongst themselves for the first couple of minutes. Of course, since there were no real referees, and since Michonne happened to be right there, you gave her a little shove as you passed, giving her a teasing wink.

“You bitch!” she laughed as she began running hard for the ball.

You dashed forward, intercepting a pass meant for her, and crossed it over to Glenn on the left wing.

Ever the quick pizza delivery boy, he sprinted up the sideline, onlookers getting excited. Making a few minor mistakes, he still managed to manoeuvre the ball around Carl, who you noted was surprisingly fast on his feet, and kicked it back to you sprinting up the centre field. You caught it with your left foot and continued on. Two defenders were gaining on you.

You juked the defender on the left, rolling the ball under your right foot. Chipping the ball over the remaining defender’s head, you booked it straight to the goal.

The goalkeeper’s face was full of determination. His hands were out in front of him, feet moving from side to side. In the second that you spent looking at him you could tell he was a bit unsure, but his confidence was unwavering. You admired it.

However, you used his inexperience to your advantage.

You faked to the right, watching his eyes follow your movement, then swiftly cut to the left. His stance faltered, giving you just the right amount of time to hit the ball with your left foot. You could vaguely hear kids yelling in the background, Glenn’s shrill laughter, and Sasha’s cheers filling the air.

As you kicked the ball, its trajectory started outside the line of the makeshift goalpost, and about halfway it began to curve inwards. You held your breath as you saw the ball curving towards the very top left corner, waiting with bated breath as the goalie took a gigantic leap towards it.

The ball sailed and sailed and sailed.

Until you witnessed it pass just inside the post, and the satisfying *thud* of the ball hitting the ground behind it caused your teammates to erupt in cheers.

Pumping your fists in excitement, you saw Glenn sprinting up to you with his arms outstretched.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“Oof!” you breathed, getting thrown to the ground in a giant bear hug. Before you knew it, all of the kids, including those of the opposition — a definite product of over-excitement — began stacking on top of the both of you, until all anyone could see was a massive pile of bodies in the middle of the courtyard.

Laughter and screams and fun filled the air. You didn’t even care about the goal anymore. The innocence and presence of the moment were enough to bring happy tears to your eyes.

Rick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he closed the gate behind the car. Looking towards the courtyard, he mumbled to himself in disbelief. “Are they playin’ soccer?”

As Daryl hopped out of the passenger side, he responded a bit incredulously. “Looks like it.”

Opening the boot to retrieve the supplies they brought back, Maggie started giggling, seeing her husband with the ball. “Look! Go Glenn!”

Glenn had the ball and was sprinting up the sideline. At that moment, the three of them observed his and your play.

“Damn girl…” Daryl breathed upon seeing your goal. Rick let out a low chuckle. Seeing his son playing was like being transported back to a time he thought he’d never get to experience again as a father.

When Glenn tackled you to the ground, Maggie let off a grunt of amused disapproval and began jogging towards the fun.

"She’s gonna’ suffocate!" Maggie shouted playfully, her voice full of warmth as she made her way onto the field. Slowly, everyone removed themselves from the stack, allowing you to get up and have a laugh. From where Daryl was, it looked as if you and Glenn were trying to coerce Maggie to join in rather animatedly. Cute.

As the game continued, Rick grabbed Daryl’s shoulder breaking him out of his little trance. “You comin’ or what?” he grinned.

Daryl looked to Rick, and after a couple of seconds gave him an upwards nod and made his way down to the sideline with him.

“Ya’ refereein’ or somethin’?” Daryl asked Carol with an amused smirk.

“Something like that…your girlfriend is kicking some major ass.”

“She ain’t…whatever,” Daryl grunted. Looking away and at the field, he saw Michonne pass it off to another player, resulting in a tying of the score and a multitude of cheers. Eyes drifting away from the scoring team and Carl’s silly victory dance, Daryl caught sight of you again.

What you were wearing closely resembled tiny soccer shorts which showed off your long, toned legs. You almost always wore cargo pants, so that was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He stared as the muscles in your quads and glutes expanded and retracted as you ran with an elegance he’d never seen before.

“You might wanna close your mouth before you start drooling big guy.”

A faint blush crept up his neck. Turning to shoot Carol a glare, he growled a low shuddup before being interrupted by the ball landing at his feet. A bit perplexed, he looked down at it, and up again to see a bunch of teens running at him and obnoxiously calling for it.

Daryl couldn’t help but smirk after being encouraged by Carol to pass the ball back. The enthusiasm of youth was so infectious, that even his reserved self couldn’t hide from it.

“Come on, Daryl!” you suddenly exclaimed, causing him to glance towards you. Hearing your voice made a rush of warmth spread through his chest.

As Daryl looked over towards you, you were caught off guard by the handsome smirk he donned, his eyes glistening with something that made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed slightly, but not from the sun or exertion.

“Gonna kick it or what?” You called out, a bit of a challenge in your tone. Daryl’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he booted the ball toward the centre of the field. Before either of you could say anything else, Carl beat you to it.

“Come play Daryl! We need another person!”

Carol nudged him in the side. “You should go…”

Daryl looked between Carol, Carl, and finally towards you. You bit your bottom lip and gave a single shrug of your shoulders. The vivaciousness you exuded was alluring. Looking towards the plumpness of your lips and back up, Daryl’s eyes locked with yours and stayed there. It was like you were inviting him to join. Carol hid a knowing smile as he continued to stare.

Daryl couldn’t leave you hanging, nor could he not indulge you (or so he told himself). Squinting his eyes slightly, he took a deep breath to steel his resolve. Your eyes were like magnets drawing him in. You were beautiful.

“Alrigh’...”

As Daryl started jogging onto the makeshift field, a couple of people started cheering and chanting his name. You giggled as he approached you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” you mimicked, hands on hips. You subtly lowered your eyes and gazed at him through your lashes. “Ready to get pounded?”

“W-what?” Daryl stuttered, suddenly pretending he was interested in the play being made across the courtyard.

“Are you ready to lose?” You laughed, pinching his side while watching his ears go red. He swatted your hand away.

“Ain't I playin’ wit’ ya?”

“Nuh-uh. Didn’t you hear Carl say they were short one?” You waited for a beat, before suddenly shoving Daryl backwards and running to chase the ball. “So better get into position, Dixie!”

Stumbling back a step or two from your playful shove, it was like a switch was flipped. Hearing his name being called and encouragement being thrown his way from the sidelines, Daryl was nearly completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to so much positive attention in this manner…especially your…blatant flirting? He almost didn’t know how to deal with it.

Almost.

Seeing you turn back to give him a wink made a certain desire erupt in his midsection. It ignited a type of fervour in him.

It’s on girl.

Daryl’s heart raced every time the two of you made eye contact. Not having really played a proper game of soccer before, it was difficult for him to try and manufacture some sort of on-field play with you. Although he’d touched the ball and passed it off to others a few times already, he was slightly trepidatious. The timing just wasn’t right for you to engage with him.

So, he just decided to ‘go with the flow’.

Daryl had to admit, this was some of the most enjoyment he’s had in a long time. Especially with other people. But mostly, he enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself.

You were everywhere, laughing, shouting instructions, encouraging your teammates. You were truly in your element. It was like watching a different person, a side of you he hadn’t seen before. And damn if it wasn’t attractive.

Before Daryl knew it, one of the kids passed the soccer ball back to him, and he glanced up to see you were headed straight for him. He started towards you, eyes narrowing in determination.

You saw your chance. Daryl finally had the ball and was within proper distance. You started sprinting towards him, admittedly a bit distracted by the glistening sweat on his arms accentuating every muscle fibre there. Focus Y/N.

As you two closed the gap between each other, Daryl stuck his other leg out and pushed you for good measure, tripping you.

Your momentum carried you forward, causing you to nearly fall head-first into the ground. At the last second you caught yourself, letting out a huff. A series of concerned ‘Oooos’ could be heard from onlookers. “What the hell Daryl!” you yelled at his retreating form.

Admittedly, the action pissed you off a bit. Two can play at that game, chiselled arms be damned.

You quickly pushed yourself from the ground and sprinted at full speed to catch up. You were there in no time. Getting ready to shove Daryl back from behind, you squared up your shoulder and collided with him. It was enough to mess up his footing, and the ball skidded off to the side.

There was an element of shock across Daryl’s face as he turned around to find you behind him, causing your annoyance to completely fizzle out and turn into something more akin to lust-fueled amusement. The two of you locked eyes, and Daryl’s expression turned roguish.

The next few seconds felt as if they were in slow motion. The ball sat stationary fifteen metres away, watching, waiting.

The air cracked with unspoken tension. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest in anticipation of what was to come. Everyone in the vicinity had vanished from your awareness. Now, it was just you, Daryl, and the ball — although really, you were both more focused on the presence of each other than the game now.

Without wasting another second, you lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s sleeveless shirt. You heard him release a grunt of objection, but it was enough for you to pull him backwards and allow you to lead the chase.

You heard Daryl yell smart ass as his footfalls sounded behind. You were so incredibly giddy that you felt like a little girl being chased by her little boy crush in the playground.

You were about three metres from the ball before you felt his calloused hand grip your shoulder, half shoving you in another direction. Catching a glimpse of the rarely-ever captured excitement in Daryl’s face, you began giggling as you tried to retain your balance.

“Hey!” you puffed out.

“Better watch ya’self” Daryl panted, trying to battle for possession of the ball which now had both of you fighting for it.

“Better watch your —” you grunted, holding him back with your forearm “— self!”

Just as you were getting the upper hand, Daryl used his arms to grab you and hastily shove you to the side. His touch set you ablaze.

As he began running again, you managed to hook your ankle around his own, effectively tripping him over.

As Daryl stumbled, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, laughing harder when Daryl’s hand caught you behind your knee and he pulled you down with him. You felt an intense surge of electricity travel up your leg and remain at your lower navel.

Realising you were now trying to escape his grasp and army crawl towards the direction of the ball, Daryl swung himself from his side onto his stomach, scrambling to get a better hold of your slowly retreating legs.

Surprisingly, you managed to drag yourself another metre or so before Daryl got a proper grip on your thighs, his fingers heavily dimpling into the skin there. Laughter never dissipating, Daryl smiled to himself, having trapped you on the grass.

Twisting to lie on your back, you continued to squirm in Daryl’s solid grasp. You were able to sense every bend and every shape of every finger taking hold of your thighs. Daryl pushed himself up on his knees, now leaning over your squirming form.

“Ya shouldn’ta never told me ya’ were ticklish…” Daryl said quietly before he released your legs and started attacking your sides with his hands.

“NO!” you squealed, thrashing your body in an attempt to get away from Daryl’s large hands.

Daryl couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the way your eyes sparked with joy. Your tousled hair strewn all over the grass with the sun beating down on your tanned skin made you look otherworldly. Like an angel even his own imagination couldn’t conceptualise the beauty of, but was still here in front of him, seemingly reciprocating his affections.

You were laughing so much that you were gasping for air. Not wanting you to suffocate, Daryl slowly stopped his hands from moving and held them on your waist for a few seconds to allow you to get your bearings.

Staring into your eyes, he revelled at the softness beneath his fingertips. He focused on the small movements of your abdominal muscles beneath them, and watched your lips part as you pulled in heavy breath after heavy breath. His eyes were drawn to your lips once again as you wetted them with your tongue.

Moving your hands from above your head to softly grasp Daryl’s at your waist, you huffed a small laugh and gazed at him with wide eyes. You admired his boyish handsomeness.

“You. Are a prick.”

Daryl let escape a small snort of his own and shyly chewed his lip. “Only fer ya’ pretty girl…”

A small breeze picked up, slightly swaying the section of hair hanging from Daryl’s forehead. The way he was softly watching you made you want to pull him down to you and close the distance —

“Either play or get a room!”

“Yeah! Jesus Christ…”

The heat of the moment was ruined by a herd of teens resuming the play which you’d seemingly both forgotten all about.

Both realising the…compromising…position you both were in, the two of you abruptly pulled away from each other, both going equally red from embarrassment. The sounds of people hollering and some mildly inappropriate noises filled your ears, adding to the awkwardness.

“Oh my god…” you managed, sitting up and covering your face with your hands.

Daryl stood and offered you his hand which you sheepishly took. He waited until you looked at him before he gave you his half-smile, reserved only for you. You’d never admit it, but it always managed to make you melt.

“Ya’ actually ain’t that bad at soccer.”

You shook your head in jest. “Shut up.”

*I DO NOT give permission for my work to be used/adapted/copied in any way.*

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betensured · 1 year ago

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07-bilin · 6 months ago

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high-school love pt.1

₊˚ପ⊹ summary: a slowburn of sorts in which you and akaashi meet as manager and player, slowly becoming close as the only first-years on the team

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1,725

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: none!

his name

Attending Fukurodani, you expected your three years at the school would be calm, something predictable. This was automatically shattered within the first two weeks of high school. The friend you had made in your class had ultimately been able to convince you to join the girls soccer team, so there you were, outside in the blazing hot sun in the month of April in your P.E getup that didn't fit you in any of the right ways. As a goalie, your job was to defend the opposing team, not letting them score any points, supposedly that's what you were supposed to be doing but ultimately in the end all of the balls ended up flying right past you, the last one hitting you in the face causing the coach to give you a lecture ending the scrimmage at that.

After the lecture, you were shooed off the field to go clean yourself up. You found a sink by the gymnasium and turned it on feeling the cool water on your finger tips. collecting the water between your hands you splashed the puddle on to your face feeling refreshed.

I mean, soccer wasn't your thing, but you joined in support of your friend's endeavors. Overall, there was a small chance of you making the team and even if you did you would probably be benched. But before that could even happen, you would find an excuse to join the team which would lead you back into square one of finding a club to join before being randomly placed into one, though, to be honest, you could care less about the club you joined, you agreed to tryout with your friend as you had enough with her talking about all the hot guys that she'd be able to see if she joined.

As you finished tidying yourself up, ready to head back to the field and most likely to get hit in a bunch of other spots, you saw a volleyball that seemed to have rolled out of a gym. You headed over to grab it and followed the noise of balls being spiked to one gym in particular. You pushed the mosquito net aside before entering the noisy gym, ball in hand.

Your attention was immediately drawn to the boy with gelled up whitish gray hair as he seemed to be the nosiest one here. Your eyes trailed his figure as he approached the net in a fluid motion before jumping up and slamming down the volleyball that seemed to have gravitated towards his palm.

"HEY HEY HEY! AKAASHI WASN'T MY LINE SHOT AMAZING??!"

Your eyes began to dart around to find this certain face named 'Akaashi'. You see a glimpse of him before you feel a slight tap to your shoulder.

Spinning around, your met with a girl with a clipboard, you can tell she's older than you by the way she stands, almost like she's accumulated with the place and used to all the buzz around her in the closed quarters. "You must be here for the manager position,?" she says as she stares at you glancing at the ball that you hugged to your chest even tighter than before after being caught in the act of your seemingly good deed. Although you remembered seeing posters all around the bulletin boards in the first-year hall about a manager position you didn't know it'd be today of all days.. You grimaced as you began to zone out before feeling a weight on your shoulder and glance up at another girl who seems excited to see you.

"Ah,,? We finally got a first year, whats your name little one?" She asks as she gives you a smile. The girl from before is somewhat shocked from the sudden actions of the girl on your shoulder as she comments on her position, "Yukie! Don't scare her, plus, she hasn't even said if shes joining yet." The second-year girl looks at you with enlarged eyes somewhat with an apologetic face before asking, "So, are you?"

You glance between the two upperclassmen who seemed to be starring daggers into you before ultimately stating you would be. The girl who had a ponytail in currently was Suzumeda-san while the one that was glued to your side minutes earlier was Shirofuku-san--but she preferred to be called Yukie-san. As the practice continued, Suzumeda-san ran you through the basics of everything. Although you weren't well versed in the sport of volleyball, the two girls washed away your worries as you joining the club was the first step to learning more about the sport.

From the two chattering upperclassmen, you learned quite a lot of the team already, the one player they mentioned the most was Bokuto-san. He was the ace of the team who often worked up quite a storm of emotions. You soon learned that he it was often a struggle to pick him out of his alienated stage but lately that wasn't the case, due to a particular person. Sure Bokuto interested you but a person who could deal with his mood-swings? Was there actually a person like that on the team? Before you could pry for more information the two girls moved on from the topic before giving you more instructions on how to be a manager for the powerhouse school.

By the end of practice, night had fallen upon them. Coach Yamaiji wrapped up the practice by giving the players a pep talk and eventually ended up introducing you to the team. "Hello, I'm L/n, Y/n from class 1-2, thank you for having me," you stated as you introduced yourself to the crowd of boys. To your surprise, they greeted you warmly which helped cool your anxiety down just a tad bit.

After everyone collectively cleaned up the gymmnasium, you were given your very own Fukurodani tracksuit and volleyball shoes, identical to the players. With these items, the idea finally settled down into your mind, you were really doing this now, full commitment and everything. A small smile formed on your face as you ran your hand over the embroidered characters as you stepped out of the gym into the cool spring night.

As you quickly snuck to the girls locker room, you sighed in relief as it hadn't been locked just quite yet. You quickly changed out of your P.E clothing and into your uniform, throwing on a light cardigan from your backpack before slipping the remaining items into your backpack and fishing out your phone. Switching it on, you were bombarded by multiple messages from a particular someone..

**F/n** "Y/N!!!" -5:28pm

"HELLOOOOOO"

"coach knows you disappeared!!"

"come back y/n before you get lectured again"

"gtg, you better be back soon or else.."

"YAH, I MADE THE TEAM!!" -8:47pm

"text me back when you finally respond,,, AND YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR DISAPPEARING!!"

You stifled a small laughter as you reached the end of the messages from your friend. You felt bad for leaving her behind but from your perspective of her from the past two weeks you think she'll be fine and in no time she'll be best friends with the entire team.

As you approach the gates of the academy with your earbuds plugged into your ears with your eyes staring down at your phone thinking of a reply for F/l/n-san, you don't notice a certain boy in front of you and he seems to not have noticed you either as the two of you eventually collide into each other which ends up with you on the ground, an earbud falling out in the process.

You keep your composure calm as it was your fault and your gaze eventually lands on a boy that wears the Fukurodani uniform quite strictly. Typically the boys will unbutton the jacket but he keeps it buttoned up and it seemed like his tie was also ironed that morning. You shift your gaze up to his face, a sharp glint in his eyes, almost like he's calculating his every move constantly. Much to his clothing, his hair seems to be the most untidiness part of his, frayed in several directions but it fits the way his face is shaped, making him look rather handsome.

Eventually, you notice the hand he placed out for you to reach for god knows how long as you were admiring his beauty. You grab it and feel the callouses he has all over them, must be a sports player you muse.

"Thank you,, uh--," you begin as you get a better look at his features face to face, seeming to click within your mind that you've seen him before, or at least a glimpse of him.

"Akaashi, Akaashi Keiji." He responds calmly. "Are you okay?"

You give him a slight nod as you release your grasp from his hand before fidgeting with your own. "Sorry, that was completely my fault, my name is L/n, Y/n". You say as you give him a nervous laugh trying to not lock your eyes into his. He gives you a small smile before saying it was alright and that he hadn't been paying much attention either. The two of you stand there for a good couple of seconds before you let out another nervous chuckle.

"Well, I'm gonna go this way now Akaashi-kun, see you around school!" You say as you wave bye to him.

"Mhm, see you tomorrow L/n-san," he replied before slipping away from the school leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you neared your home, you pondered over what he meant by see you tomorrow.. Was he going to track you down and demand for you to pay repercussions. You shivered at the thought of it. Only when you were about to drift into slumber you realized.

Sitting up in bed, "SO THAT'S WHO HE WAS!!" Akaashi, the mystery man, setter, and only first-year on the starting line-up of Fukurodani was the one guy able to calm down Bokuto-san and you just clumsily bumped into him and had no idea what his name was when he probably already knew yours explaining why he smiled upon your reactions.

You flung yourself around in bed not being able to sleep but eventually succumbed into slumber as the next day awaited your presence.

next chapter --->

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ lin's work #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi #fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #fukurodani #series

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esperfruit · 6 months ago

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Bonus facts for the characters in my TTTE Human AU Part 1

Thomas Billington:

Recently got his moped license, travels around Sodor on his moped whenever he can

British + Indian

Autism + ADHD

Asexual + Biromantic

Edward's No. 1 hypeman

No sweets are save from him

Once got in an accident with a bike and was catapulted through a window onto a family’s breakfast table

Can't play instruments to save his life

Strong dislike for fish and gets seasick

Favorite shows are slapstick cartoons

Is surprised himself at how good he became at making friends with how bad he used to be in the past

Can get tunnel vision when too determined to get things done

Reads books about ancient civilizations, mythology and archeology to feel close to his missing parents

Stays in contact with Ashima

Edward Pettigrew:

His friend circle is so large, he always knows someone who can help out

British

Bisexual + Trans man

Classic music enthusiast

Serious perfectionist

People pleaser but has a lot of confidence and self-respect

Often forgets basic needs when focused too hard on work (Annie, Clarabel and Thomas often have to remind him to eat)

Used to look after Henry when he was sick but over time was pushed away by Henry, who didn't want Edward's “pity”

Is called “Uncle Edward” by Thomas

Has very high expectations of himself thanks to his reputation as the ol'reliable

Was a troublemaker in his youth to the shock of everyone

Can adapt to any situation

Henry Stanier:

If you want to know anything regarding gardening, he got you covered

Puerto Rican

ADD + autism + anxiety + insomnia

Pansexual + Bigender

Can be a massive hater when you get on his bad side

Actively participates in forest restorations

Struggles with expressing of wanting sympathy for his condition but not to be pitied for it

Lived in New Jersey for a while and adapted the accent

Even if he mellowed out, he can still throw out some of the most rude things you've ever heard

Holds a grudge against Scott

Was Sodor's undefeated armwrestling champion for a long time until his defeat against Hiro

His orphanage didn't want to pay for his hospital bills anymore and he was given to the Staniers without them knowing about his anemia first

Uses the herbs he grows in his garden for medicine

Aside from chronic anemia, he has a weak immune system in general

Goes hiking for escapism

Gets stressed whenever Spencer is around

Not many can tell whenever his smile is one of joy or warning

Gordon Gresley:

When he smiles his whole face changes

British

Gay

Autism + NPD + BPD

Gets very tense and nervous when confronted with sudden big change

Struggles at asking for help

It’s very difficult to get him to open up and especially to get him to talk about his feelings

Quick to judge others

Once led a strike with Henry and James, is embarrassed by it today

Gets very uncomfortable when his family is mentioned

Suffers from strong mood swings, it is hard to predict and adapt to him

Almost got ran over by Spencer’s car once (Spencer did it on purpose)

Never hides his schadenfreude

A glutton, gets flustered whenever it’s addressed

Has nightmares from the accident only he and Scott survived

His drawn out groans and “Oh, the indignity” line became famous

James Hughes:

Freaks out whenever some of his self-made outfits get dirty

British + Mexican

Gay

ADHD + NPD + anxiety

Has a whole photo album with nothing but selfies

Becomes non-verbal when he feels humiliated

Very observant, notices things others never would

All of his dishes look like they were made at a 5 stars restaurant

Is often seen posing over dramatically

Good painter

Breaks out into boastful laughter whenever he’s praised

Constantly provokes Gordon to get his attention

Has a melancholic side

Percival “Percy” Avonside:

Is the local newspaper kid on his bike

British + Seychellois + Malaysian

ADHD

AroAce and non-binary

Wants to become a professional soccer player, trains with Donald

Didn't know how to swim for a long time until he got swimming lessons after almost drowning when he fell into the water at the harbor and was saved by Henry

Has some developmental delays because of the homeschooling and struggles with big words

Is often seen bantering with the helicopter pilot Harold Sikorsky

Gets very grumpy when bored

Superhero movie fan

Accident prone, is currently on his fifth bike

Loves wearing the sweaters Henrietta made for him

Very good with animals

When he makes a promise, he does everything to keep it

Tobias “Toby” Holden:

Very strong attachment to Henrietta, is only seen without her at work

Black British

Straight ally

Neurotypical

Usually peaceful but will make you regret if you ever hurt Henrietta or Percy

Is easy to get to laugh at your jokes (except for Charlie, even Toby finds him unfunny)

Sweet tooth but not as extreme as Thomas

Henrietta can cheer him up instantly whenever he’s cross

Once stopped a burglar from robbing a museum and is now seen as a hero

Often invites Mavis for dinner with his family

Owns many antiques

Montague “Duck” Collett:

Amazing dancer, his favorite being waltz with Donald

British

Bisexual

Autism

A typical old-fashioned gentleman despite his young age

Has high standards and gives harsh but honest criticism

Does not swear at all, only when he's at his breaking point

Usually shrugs off duck jokes but will throw hands if you do that as one of his enemies (Diesel)

Habit of talking a lot when getting enthusiastic

He and Douglas are the only ones to know how to handle Donald perfectly

Very musical, can play the piano, violin, acoustic guitar and flute

Likes going to the coast, gets sentimental when watching the sunset there

Donald McIntosh:

Owns kilts he wears to festivities

Scottish

Gay

ADHD

Can not play the bagpipes

Fluent in Gaelic

He and Douglas used to live in Hamilton but moved to Glasgow after being adopted by the McIntosh Family

Loves playing Scottish folk music at high volume (to the annoyance of many)

Was the ace striker of his school’s soccer team

Likes giving nicknames (Dougie, Ducky, Ollie, Hen-Hen, Gordo, Jamie, Ed, Thommy, Perce, Emi, Becca etc.)

Makes cute little hats for Dilly

Short-tempered and gets aggressive when someone is looking at Douglas the wrong way

Douglas McIntosh:

Owns kilts he wears to festivities

Scottish

Bisexual and non-binary

Autism + anxiety

Can play the bagpipes

Fluent in Gaelic

Hates superstitions and anything related to the supernatural

Learned how to cook for himself since he started to refuse to eat food from others except Donald and Oliver

Craves affection, only lets Donald and Oliver know

Proud of his heritage, both twins are but Douglas shows it more

Enjoys wearing feminine and masculine clothing equally

Oliver Armstrong:

Best partner to go on walks with. Evening walks on the beach with Douglas are his favorite

British + Egyptian

Pansexual

Autism + paranoia ( the latter caused by being hunted for years)

Loves learning about history and other cultures

Amazing cook, he and Douglas often exchange recipes

Makes a lot of puns

Ego gets inflated quickly

Gives amazing hugs, Douglas can confirm

He and Toad give the best camping advice

Emily Stirling:

Insecure in her femininity because of her headstrong personality and age

British + Vietnamese

Lesbian

Neurotypical

Sodor’s greatest mediator

When she has something to say, she will make sure you listen

Gordon and Scott’s father’s half sister, was sent to Scotland to get married off to the Stirlings after it came out she was an illegitimate child

Her marriage was arranged, she did care for her late husband a lot and knew he was a good man but she did not love him

Only talks about her former marriage with Daisy and her closest friends

Learns baking from Henrietta

Likes teasing young people

She and Daisy often dress flashy for fun

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte percy #ttte toby #ttte duck #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte oliver #ttte emily #ttte headcanon

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avonne-writes · 7 months ago

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A quick birthday drabble for @swifty-fox 🩷🎂 Happy birthday, dear!

Here's Chick Harding's POV, picking up from the end of my latest HS AU chapter. It’s Gale's 18th birthday 😊

When Georgia said she was going to go get the birthday cake they ordered for Gale, Neil thought she'd be back in half an hour. But it's been two hours and there's still no sign of her. As he predicted, the boys didn’t really need any distraction at first, but when he hears the sound of them coming down from upstairs, he knows that time's up. He’s gonna have to cover for Georgia or spoil the surprise. From his seat in the old armchair, he increases the volume of the soccer game he’s watching and pretends to be engrossed in it. He hopes that it catches their attention instead of the empty driveway.

As they approach, he hears them rib each other about one of those video games they play online with their friends, then Bucky throws himself down on one end of the sofa, Gale on the other. Bucky stretches his lanky limbs wide and yawns.

"Chelsea-Arsenal?" He says before he has even closed his mouth. "Ugh, that was one shitty game. Look at that corner. Did he wanna shoot a pigeon or something?"

Neil chuckles. He loves that Bucky has no filter whatsoever when he's comfortable, and it fills him with warmth that they are close enough now to share mundane moments like this. It feels like belonging. He feels blessed that he took his chance and asked Georgia out that hazy summer day one and a half years ago. Every day with her and her family has been a gift so far. Even the hard ones.

At the thought, he glances over at Gale, who's staring out the window instead of watching the game. His legs are curled up under him. On the opposite end, Bucky swings his own up on the cushions to sprawl sideways on the couch. He’s too long to fit, but instead of settling down with his knees pulled up, he starts kneading at Gale’s thigh with his feet. Gale ignores him. How, Neil can’t fathom, but the boy looks like he’s so used to that kind of behaviour that it doesn't even register to him.

"Where's Georgia?" He asks Neil after a moment.

There’s an edge to his voice that Neil can’t place, something anxious. Always so hard to read. Neil wishes he could just comfort him with a hug, a friendly clap on the back or a terrible soccer game rerun, but Gale continues to be unreceptive to him. It makes sense, he thinks, stomping down on the anger rising in his chest as he thinks of Gale's father. Gale doesn’t know, but he and Neil had an altercation after they moved Gale out. But Neil can be intimidating if he wants to be. He doubts that the alcoholic bastard is going to cause them trouble again.

"Getting some groceries." Neil lies smoothly.

Bucky groans. "What groceries? Fridge is chock full already, there's nowhere to put it."

"Damned if I know, boy." Neil spreads his hands, faking indifference. It works seamlessly on Bucky, but a hint of sadness appears on Gale’s blank face.

"I would've gone with her if I'd known."

No wonder that Georgia asked Neil to cover for her. She must have known that Gale would want to spend time with her today and to help out wherever he can.

Neil opens his mouth to say something but Bucky beats him to it. "I can take you to Walmart if you want."

Amusement tugs Gale's lips into a smile. "Walmart?"

"Anywhere you want." Bucky straightens his legs to plop them on Gale’s lap. He scratches his chest. "See? Chivalry isn’t dead."

Gale's smile widens, digging into the apples of his cheeks. He shoves Bucky's legs off.

To Neil's relief, the sound of tires rolling on the driveway and a purring engine interrupt the conversation. Finally! She's back, and Neil hasn't fucked up and ruined the surprise yet. He pushes himself up from his seat and stretches, cracking his spine. Bucky yawns again, then gets up to walk off towards the front door with resignation, expecting bag upon bag of food that he’ll have to haul in from the car. Neil is about to follow him when he hears Gale's tentative voice.

"Neil?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

He can count the number of times Gale addressed him directly on one hand. He turns to look at him curiously. Gale is taller than him, but he looks small as he smooths a hand over his long hair in discomfort.

"I was wondering..." Gale clears his throat, then stands up straight and looks Neil in the eye. "...if you knew any part-time jobs you could recommend. Maybe at a garage? Or something. I can learn anything."

Neil hums, impressed. "I'm sure we can find something." An idea occurs to him. "You’re good with spreadsheets, aren't you?"

When Gale nods, he grins. "I think I have just the thing for you."

That draws a smile to Gale's lips too.

The front door opens, and first Bucky, then Georgia walks in, twin grins on their faces, eyes squinting in their joy. Her auburn hair looks windswept, tumbling over her knitted green scarf, and her cheeks are flushed from the cold. Neil wants to sweep her into his arms and kiss her skin warm again, wants to hear her laugh against his chest.

But he’s not the one getting hugs and kisses today. It's not his day, and he doesn’t mind it one bit, because he gets to see Gale's expression shift from curiosity to surprise, then joy as he spots the box Georgia carries carefully to the kitchen. She sets it down on the table and opens the carton to reveal Gale's cake. It’s covered in fondant decorations shaped like his favourite things, and cursive letters wish him a happy birthday in the middle of it.

"Oh." He says when he sees it, then looks up at her.

Neil can’t see his expression but he sees hers crumple for a moment as she pulls him into a hug and kisses the side of his face. She closes her eyes as she holds him close.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Gale mumbles a thank you into her shoulder.

After a moment, Bucky steps closer too and wraps his long arms around them both. That makes them all laugh. For a second, Neil feels out of place, but they pull back from the embrace, and the next thing Georgia does is drawing Neil into one too. She smells like the sweetest flowers and fresh winter air, like Christmas and home. To Neil, she's all that and more.

She gives him a sheepish smile when she steps back. "How did you know I was going to get groceries too?"

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #chick harding #georgia egan #hs au #my writing #swifty-fox

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popponn · 1 year ago

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call you later; 2.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. so we still got uh... aryu chigirin and im considering reo. idk who else will come later but i had fun writing this!! character: itoshi rin, bachira meguru. [ part 1 : isagi, sae, nagi ]

itoshi rin

What did you do? This guy is the type to only left anything if it’s urgent, about nii-chan, or about football. Other than that high chances are they are actual death threats and you are not an exception.

Though, he can not deny that you are sort of his favorite in a way—won't admit that to your face too, though. That’s why he even bothers calling you and not just left a message or tell some poor soul to call you instead. While he probably feels a bit irked that you didn’t pick up, he will save the nagging when he finally met you face to face later. And even then, most of teammates will clarify that rather than nagging it’s more like his way of asking for your extra attention. It’s adorable, if you ignore the fact that the next movie night will definitely without a doubt would have to be a horror movie night just to cheer him up. Prayers and thoughts, if you dislike horror.

The message he will left is exactly like him, in a way. Rude, doesn’t have many words, but if you squints you could hear what sounds like a caring nosiness. While he isn’t the type to suddenly get clingy because of one unpicked-up call or thing about it too much, call him back soon as you can even if he didn’t say or rush you to do so. Would never say it to your face, but having you around him calms him down a lot and that includes your voice.

“Where are you right now?” Rin sounds like he was angry, as usual. “You better not be picking up problems left and right or I swear I will—”

A background noise that sounds like a chirpy teasing interrupted him, reminding him not to be so scary, which Rin replied with a snarling growl, “Shut up! And that wasn’t for you—I got a match so you better fucking watch it and fucking message me where you are while you are at it. I will get you home later so you better wait for me or else…..that’s all. Later. Next time don’t just go somewhere without telling me, stupid.”

bachira meguru

Do you know how long of a voice message can someone left on an unpicked up call? If you don’t you will find out soon.

He probably would not really question why you are not picking up, but mostly because whenever you got separated he will always call you in the most ungodly timing possible just for chatting. Somehow. So, at this point, it has become more of a norm for you to not pick up and just call him again later. He is not being nosy, it’s just more of how he expresses his love—sharing literally everything with you. This has led to several one-sided awkwardness from your part between you and some of his teammates, but hey Bachira Meguru’s Hottest Soccer Gossips is a very important segment in your daily life with him.

Which being said, yeah, get ready. He will talk into the phone as if you were there replying to him—and indeed he always manage to predict how you will react. Listening to his voicemail during work is a good replacement for podcasts and such as in case you are bored by them. Though, sometimes, when he is in a rush and have to keep the message shorter than usual, it’s really sweet! He rarely manage to remind you to call him back though, as it feels like norm for you to do so. Don’t forget it, so you don’t get a Bachira Meguru species asking to be carried around for the whole day on the next holiday. He has muscles and those things are not light.

“So, so, so!” Meguru began with his chirpy voice, not leaving any greeting as usual. “Today Isagi and Chigirin kind of clowned and I really, really want to tell you that story—but I gotta go fast, so I will tell you at home later, okay?” Meguru worded out each word in a rushed manner, akin to an excited buzzing bee waiting to run somewhere with skips in his steps and ball for him to dribble.

“Last night I dreamt about Zico so I will definitely win today! But I also dreamt you were there bundled up because you got a fever. Not like I’m complaining if I get to take care of you with my specials, but stay healthy, ‘kay, ‘kay?” Meguru said, jokingly yet dotting. Then, immediately, he continued, “Oh, well! That’s all—I will call again later or you could! So, see ‘ya, Lovely! Love you! Muuuach!”

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27spoons · 5 days ago

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CRUSH | ACT ONE: CIGARETTE DAYDREAMS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

summary:

A handful of chance encounters with the elusive Natalie Scatorccio lead to an unlikely outing with the aforementioned, which leads you to an unexpected and unconventional place, far removed from your usual quiet routines. In the quiet of their surroundings, the two find themselves opening up, sharing glimpses of their lives and discovering unexpected common ground. You're drawn into Natalie's world as the day unfolds, leaving you questioning your choices and craving more of the freedom and thrill she embodies.

wc: 5700

warnings: they smoke weed, reader is a bumbling idiot

a/n: the amount of research i did into the american school system is truly astounding. yall are so weird (lovingly). what the fuck is a homecoming and why are you guys so obsessed with it (/j) (mostly)

ao3

PREVIOUS - PRELUDE: CRUSH

NEXT - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK? (WIP)

The first time you really noticed Natalie Scatorccio, she was leaning against the bleachers behind the gym with a cigarette dangling from her lips, head tipped back like she didn't give a fuck if the sun blinded her. Even in the heat of late spring, still wearing that black, faded leather jacket. You wonder if she was born with it.

You didn't mean to stare. You never do.

But Natalie… well, Natalie always had a way of drawing your attention, like a moth to a flame. The rest of the world seemed to fade into static whenever she came into your line of view.

Looking back, you wonder why the hell she even came to school that day. Half the time, she was just a rumour passed from one hallway to another, a near-mythical figure that drifted in and out of classes on her own terms. Maybe her being on the soccer team played a role in her occasionally attending classes. As good of a player as she was, they couldn't have someone on the team who ditched all of their classes. Only some. And maybe she had a bit of, well, a lot of a record. You don't know how much of it is true, but you do know she's spent more than a few nights in juvie.

Anyway, she didn't notice you. She never did.

Why would she notice someone like you, anyway? With her sharp edges and reckless impetuousness? You barely spoke in class unless called on, minded your own, and were content fading into the background of any picture. Your life was routine and predictable—a series of perfectly lined notebooks and polite smiles.

But, with all that in mind, it never stopped your heart from catching in your throat every time her eyes flicked lazily across the quad, scanning the crowd like she was already bored of it. It never stopped the rush of heat to your cheeks when someone shouted her name, and she smirked, tossing her cigarette to the pavement and crushing it with her boot.

You told yourself to stop looking.

You didn't.

Instead, you let your gaze linger, wondering what it felt like to be the kind of person who could light up a cigarette in the middle of the day and make it look like art. Wondering what it felt like to be noticed by Natalie Scatorccio.

Wondering if you ever would.

You never planned to talk to her. Not really. It was always just passing thoughts of what it would be like to interact with her. Would she be exactly like all the rumours? A cold, uncaring burnout that doesn't give a fuck about anyone but herself? Or would she be kinder? Someone who cares about people and has a secret soft spot?

The thoughts that ran through your mind every time you looked at her. Some more explicit than others. Whoops.

Maybe even when you weren't looking at her. Like now, for example. So lost in your own world, leaning against the school's exterior wall during your free period, you don't even notice someone approaching you until their voice pushes you out of your thoughts.

"Got a light?" The raspy, feminine voice asked, sounding like the person it came from had already smoked half a pack today.

Your head flicks over to the voice and… Natalie Scatorccio. In the flesh. How long had you been imagining your first interaction? Since that spring sophomore year? What was that, over a year ago, now?

You blink, startled. "Uh, I, uh—I don’t smoke.”

The girl scoffs, "No shit. I didn't ask if you smoked. I asked if you had a light."

You must look like a deer in the headlights right now, mouth opening and closing uselessly like a fish out of water. "Uh." You sling your backpack off your back and unzip it. Truthfully, you already know you don't have a lighter in here. You're only looking because it's an excuse to keep her around a little longer.

"Sorry," you murmur after a minute spent rifling through your bag and Nat shifting restlessly beside you. "Don't have, uh, a lighter on me."

She appraises you for a moment, "Then what are you doing here, Princess?" She gestures vaguely to the surrounding area. "This your idea of a field trip? Comin' to the corner where the burnouts hang out?"

…is this the corner where her and her friends hang out? No, right? You've never seen them back here before. Mind you, it's not like you're watching her every move, but you feel like you've seen her around enough to know that this isn't her usual haunt.

"No, uh, I, uh, just wanted some air." The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them.

Natalie laughs, low and quiet, "Sure, sure." She tucks her cigarette behind her right ear and crosses her arms, looking over you again with that same look that you could never entirely read. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts. You won't get air like this where you're going."

"Where I'm going?"

She hums, shrugging and pushing off the brick wall the two of you were leaning against. "Wherever people like you go when they get bored of people like me."

You don't even get the time to consider that or form a response before she's walking off with that signature swagger.

So, you stand there, staring after her, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

You'll start carrying a lighter with you, you decide.

The next time you interact with Natalie Scatorccio is the week before homecoming, and it's in a setting that is far from glamorous.

You're in—well, just outside—the school's storage closet, begrudgingly helping a teacher gather decorations for the upcoming celebration. She'd roped you in during your lunch period with a sickeningly sweet smile and a nudge about "school spirit," and, of course, you've always had a hard time saying no. Now, you're stuck digging through boxes upon boxes of tangled string lights, crumpled paper banners, and decorations that are probably older than you are. The icing on the cake is the fact that the entire room smells like mothballs and mildew.

So, there you are, crouched down and trying to untangle a particularly stubborn knot that connects a pair of string lights when a vaguely familiar voice startles you.

"Didn't peg you for the "volunteer of the year" type."

You glance in the direction of the voice to see Natalie leaning against the closet doorframe, arms crossed and smirking down at you. She's got a blue Gatorade bottle in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of her leather jacket.

You blink, genuinely surprised to see her in this part of the school, voluntarily. "Uh… what're you doing here?" You stammer out, hands still buried in the mess of tangled lights.

Natalie cocks an eyebrow at you, "Came to see if this place had any tape. Coach is too cheap to buy any decent stuff for the team." She waves a roll of duct tape in her hand, as if to prove her point, then glances down at the many boxes you're sifting through. "You doing this for shits and giggles or some sort of punishment?"

"Uh… neither?" You shift in your position awkwardly, "Ms. Garza needed help, and I—"

She scoffs and interrupts you, "You're too nice." she crouches down beside you with an exaggerated groan, like the act of sitting is the hardest thing in the world. "Lemme guess. Something about school pride, how much she would appreciate it, and a pat on the back?"

"...yeah…" you murmur, face flushing.

An indignant snort leaves her as she digs her hands into the string of lights you currently have yours in, "Called it." To your great surprise, she starts untangling the knotted lights with a deftness you weren't quite expecting.

Mind you, you weren't really expecting any of this.

"Oh, uh, you really don't have to—"

"Nah. 'm bored." She shrugs, not bothering to look up at you. "Wanted an excuse to ditch practice, anyways."

"Oh." You aren't quite sure how to respond to that, so you settle for just watching her work.

The silence stretches as she untangles the lights on your behalf, slightly uncomfortable and tense but not awkward, for some reason. Eventually, you find the courage to ask, "You're, uh, on the soccer team, right?"

Natalie pauses for a moment, then shrugs and gets back to work. "Yep," and for a moment, you think that's all she's gonna say until she adds: "Not exactly my dream job, but it mostly keeps me out of trouble." She smirks and finally glances at you, "Mostly."

"Well… that's good, I guess?" You offer, watching as she successfully untangles one of the strings from the giant mess.

She laughs—short, sharp, and genuine—and it honestly catches you off-guard for a moment. "Sure, Princess. Good. That's one word for it."

You let that silence slowly become awkward before you mumble out, "You're not what I expected." You don't even intend it to come out of your mouth, but it does before you can stop it.

Natalie freezes, her expression shifting to something unreadable. "And what exactly did you expect, huh?" Her tone, while mostly neutral, carries a slight bite to it.

That makes you hesitate.

Good job, dumbass.

"Oh, uh, it's just that… people say a lot of stuff about you. I dunno." Your face flushes again, and you feel like a bit of an ass for saying something, but surely she knows the rumours that circulate her.

"Yeah, well, people say a lot of shit about anything they don't understand." She nearly snaps, her jaw tensing before she finally looks at you, her gaze making you feel far more insignificant than you've ever felt before. "Guess it doesn't really matter what they say, huh? People like you don't bother to find out for themselves."

"People…" You swallow down that sudden lump in your throat, "People like me?"

"Yeah. You know," she gestures vaguely at you with her free hand as if that explains everything. "The good kids. The nerds. The ones that stick to the rules and do what they're told. Whatever."

You open your mouth to dispute that claim, that you really don't "stick to the rules" and "do what you're told," but even if you could without lying, she wouldn't believe you. "Yeah." You manage, unable to find anything else to say.

After that, the two of you finish untangling the lights in relative silence, and as bad as you feel about what you said (and assumed), you feel like there's some sort of understanding you've gained about the woman a majority of the school avoids, like the plague.

As Natalie stands to leave, duct tape in one hand and a satisfied grin on her face, she pauses and spares a glance back at you, "Hey," a beat, "Try saying no next time. Might make life more… interesting."

Then… she's gone. Leaving you alone with the faint smell of cigarette smoke and the realization you're probably blushing.

You start frequenting that spot in the back of the school during your spare period and hoping that maybe, maybe, she'll grace you with her presence again.

Lucky for you, she does—two weeks later.

It's early October in your senior year; homecoming has come and gone, and the air has started to develop a slight chill. You're sitting against that same wall with a sketchbook in hand and earbuds in, listening to whatever is playing off your phone. You really need to work on your situational awareness because you don't even notice Natalie approaching until her figure is looming over you. You quickly pull an earbud out as you look up at her. "Uh—" "What're you working on, Princess?" Despite the teasing lilt in her voice, she seems… genuinely curious. "Oh, uh, just…" You turn the sketchbook around and offer it to her, figuring it's easier to show than try to explain. "Yeah, I'm drawing a very specific type of bird, the barn swallow, which I saw when I went up to my grandfather's farm over the weekend." True, you could just say, "It's a barn swallow," but that's no fun.

Natalie cocks an eyebrow, surprised that you're just handing her your drawing when most people wouldn't let her touch their belongings with a ten-foot pole, but she doesn't comment on it. She nods as she looks down at the sketch, "'s a nice looking bird. You got talent, Princess." She hands the book back to you, "Your field trip take you out here again?"

You flush slightly at the compliment, murmuring out a quiet "Thanks" before you look back up at her, "Oh, uh, I just… it's quiet back here. Most people don't come around this part of the school, so I can draw in peace. It's nice." You offer her a soft smile, which she returns. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" The girl looks around the area, yawning. "Always nice to find spots where the rest of the school don't stick their noses." She glances back down at you, "Shouldn't you be in class? Don't seem like the type to skip." You shake your head, "I have a spare right now. And I'd rather be out there than in the library or something. At least out here, I can breathe." You chuckle quietly to yourself.

She huffs at the comment and pulls a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, "This is true." She places one between her lips, and you almost hope she asks you if you have a lighter again, just so you can show her that you do, but she doesn't, instead opting to pull out a rusted Zippo from one of her combat boots. She takes a few puffs from the smoke before flicking the lighter closed and returning it to her boot.

"Sorry. Would've asked if you wanted to bum one, but you said you didn't smoke last time." Last time. Meaning she remembers the interaction the two of you had weeks ago. That brief, fleeting interaction. It shouldn't make you feel as warm as it does. "What's your last class of the day?" And now she's asking you questions. About yourself. That's crazy. That's wild.

"Oh, uh, AP Chemistry with Mr. Carr."

Natalie snorts as she brings the Marlboro back to her lips, "Figures you'd be in AP Chem." You frown slightly at that, but she quickly adds: "Not that that's a bad thing or whatever. You just… seem like the overachieving type. No offense." She shrugs as she takes a long pull from the smoke.

"Yeah, well, parents want me getting into a good university, preferably with a scholarship, so that I won't have to go into crippling debt just to study." You give another (slightly tense) chuckle.

She grunts in response, "I get that." You were half expecting her to make another jab about getting into a good school or getting a scholarship, but find yourself pleasantly surprised when she doesn't. "Hey," She says, looking back down at you, "When's the last time you skipped a class?" Skipped a class? You don't think you've ever—well, that's a lie. You did a few times back in middle school when you thought it was cool. And it was—until you ended up missing a test. "Middle school, I think." You mumble, thinking about the question. "Probably eighth grade. Why?"

A devilish grin crosses her features, "Well, Princess, I think your nerdy ass is long overdue for a skip. Last block of the day, anyway. What've you got to lose?" You consider that. She's right. It is the last class of the day. And you know that Mr. Carr is just reviewing stuff for Monday's test.

You know you shouldn't. Really, you shouldn't. It's a bad idea. One headed for disaster. You don't know her, and she just keeps calling you "Princess," and for all that is holy, this will be a terrible idea.

"Uh, I don't know." You, once again, give her a tense chuckle. "The school will call my parents if I'm not in class." Natalie rolls her eyes and scoffs, ashing her cigarette. "Please. Just text them and tell them you've got a stomach ache or something and needed to go home early. I doubt they'll piss themselves over it. After all, it's like you said, you haven't skipped since middle school. Live a little." Live a little. She's right, again. How many times are you gonna let opportunities pass you by because you were too much of a pussy to do anything? For all that is holy, you might regret this.

"...if you end up sacrificing me to some blood God, I will be very upset." But you start packing your stuff up all the same. Natalie laughs—truly laughs. Warm and open. You decide you like that sound. "Not a blood God fan? Alright. I'll sacrifice you to the sex Gods, then." She grins as she takes another pull from the smoke, "C'mon. I know a place." She gestures with her head for you to follow. She doesn't even stop to make sure you're following her; she just assumes you are.

You scramble up off the ground and quickly move to fall into step with her as she leads you away from the school.

She moves fast, walking down the sidewalk and stepping over cracks and rocks as if she's taken this route countless times, and maybe she has. Not once does she spare a glance back at you to see if you're following, her eyes set on the path in front of her—as if nothing could break her single-minded focus of leading the two of you to… wherever you're going.

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like forever but is actually only a few minutes. Despite being slightly taller than the blonde, you find yourself taking slightly hurried steps in order to keep up with her. Natalie doesn't seem interested in telling you where she's leading you, and you don't dare ask—not yet, anyway. You clutch your bag tightly, feeling both exhilarated and slightly nauseous.

“Relax, Princess,” she says finally, her voice cutting through the quiet. She glances over at you with a smirk, flicking ash from her cigarette onto the pavement. “I’m not dragging you into anything illegal.” She grins and looks back ahead, "And I'm not actually sacrificing you to the Sex Gods—unless you're into that." She lets out a low chuckle, and you find yourself blushing again like a fool.

You're grateful she's looking away from you again, although you're almost positive she knows your face is bright red. "I, uh, I wasn't thinking that." You mumble out, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"Sure you weren't." She hums, "Don't worry. For the record, this place is cool. No cops, no teachers, no assholes tryin' t'stick their nose where it doesn't belong. Just us."

You should feel reassured, but her words only make your pulse quicken. Us. Like you’re part of her world now, even if just for a little while.

She leads you down a side street, and the area she turns down honestly looks like the type of place where someone would be murdered brutally, and their body would be discovered two months later when someone walking their dog accidentally stumbles across it. Sunlight filters through the overgrown trees on one side of the street, the tangled branches casting eerily beautiful shadows on the gravel road.

Natalie comes to a stop at the end of the road, pushing open a rusted gate that groans in protest at the movement. On the other side of the gate lies a small, run-down skatepark, the kind that's been long forgotten by time and maintenance crews. Graffiti covers every available surface, some of it less vulgar than others.

She flicks her cigarette butt to the pavement and crushes it under the toe of her boot, "Welcome to paradise," she says, throwing her arms out wide as if displaying the park to you like it was her prized possession.

"This is… your big, secret spot?" You cock an eyebrow and glance around, walking to the edge of the skate bowl and glancing down at the artwork that covers it.

Natalie laughs, leaning against the nearest ramp. “Hey, this baby is my pride and joy. Beats sitting in AP Chem, doesn’t it?”

You can’t argue with that.

You can try to, however. "'least I'd be learning something in AP Chem."

She laughs at that, "Oh, yeah?" Well, I can sure as hell teach you a few things, Princess." She pushes off from the ramp and saunters over to you, and you swear to God your face might actually look like a tomato. "I, uh, I—"

She laughs, "Relax, Princess." She drops down to sit on the edge of the bowl, taking her backpack off and pulling out a tin of Altoids.

"...Mints?" You ask, confused, your face slowly returning to its normal colour as you sit beside her, albeit with slight trepidation.

The girl snorts as she opens the tin, revealing a handful of carefully rolled joints. "No, Princess. I just got tired of carrying around plastic bags of joints that would end up crushed by the end of the day. This keeps them intact and fresh." She pulls one out and places the end of one between her lips, offering you the tin.

You look down at it like you're seeing a ghost. "Uh—"

She rolls her eyes, but the grin on her lips remains, "'s not gonna bite you. Just a joint." She closes the tin and lights the one between her lips, taking a few puffs to ensure it stays lit. "You really never smoked before, yeah? Complete virgin?" Oh, if only she knew how true that statement was. "Yeah, uh, virgin lungs. Only ever inhaled oxygen." You give a tense laugh, rubbing the back of your neck and looking away bashfully.

"Well," Natalie hums, holding the joint out for you, "First time for everything, yeah?"

You stare at the joint like it's possessed. "I don't, uh, really know how to." Nat shakes her head and laughs, "Dude, seriously, you need to relax a little. Just, like…" She sighs and rolls her eyes, waving her free hand around as she tries to explain how to take a hit. "Like… you're drinking from a straw, or whatever, but you're trynin' t'fill your lungs, not your stomach." You reach out to grab it, but she pulls it back for a moment before letting you have it, "And, whatever you do, do not fucking slobber all over my joint, or this—" she gestures between the two of you, "—will never happen again. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You murmur, suddenly far more nervous than you already had been, if that was even possible. You swallow nervously to clear the saliva from your mouth and place the end of the joint between your lips and do as she instructed, inhaling like you would if you were sucking something through a straw. You only manage to get about a second and a half into taking the pull before you're pulling the smoke from your mouth and coughing up a lung.

Natalie, of course, starts laughing her ass off. "Dude—" She tries to stop laughing, but the more you cough, the more she laughs. Admittedly, even though you're suffering, you do quite enjoy hearing her laugh. "Dude, seriously. Breathe." She grabs the joint back from you before you drop it.

"Yeah, well, easy for—" You cough a few more times, "—easy for you to say." You wave the lingering smoke away from your face, "You're not the one who just took your first hit."

She scoffs, a cocky grin plastered on her face. "Yeah, but I didn't cough my fucking lungs out the first time I took a hit." Natalie brings the joint to her lips and takes another pull before ashing it, "Try again." She offers the smoke to you again, "And this time, try not to cough like that, yeah?" Her tone is teasing, and her eyes sparkle with mischief.

Damn. You're already whipped, aren't you?

You let out another shaky exhale as you place the joint between your lips again and inhale, although not as aggressively this time. You manage to actually take a few second long pull, although you do cough a few times on the exhale. "Fuck."

You pass the joint back to her as you make a face, and Natalie just laughs again. "See, Princess? You can take a proper hit. I'll make a stoner of you yet." She grins to herself as she takes another long pull.

Silence, comfortable silence, passes between the two of you as you share the joint (and yes, you do still cough after every hit. But you swear you're getting better!) until it's depleted. Natalie sighs as she snuffs the roach of the joint out on the concrete, "I don't like silence. Talk." She says bluntly, drawing one of her legs up to her chest as the other remains draped over the edge of the bowl.

"Uh." You stammer, shaking your head. "Alright. Uh… do you skate? Or something? I'm assuming this isn't really a place you just… stumble upon." You vaguely gesture to the surrounding skatepark.

The bleach blonde shakes her head, "Nah. I don't skate. Kev does. 's become our hangout spot. No one comes 'round here unless they're tryin' t'smoke or skate. And the people that do come around to do that are usually chill." She glances at you, "So don't make me regret showing you this place, yeah? If I come back one day and see all the graffiti gone and the place cleaned up, I'm comin' for you, Princess."

Princess. That stupid fucking nickname. She hasn't even asked your name, but she's been more than fine sharing a joint with you and showing you her 'secret spot' that she seems to value so much.

Yet, as much as you dislike the nickname, you also like how it spills from her lips. Maybe it's just because it's her saying it.

"Promise I won't leak your "special spot" to the locals." You shoot her a smile, and she smiles back at you.

"Good." A beat, "How's it feel to hang out with someone like me, huh? Bet your goody-two-shoes ass would have never dreamt about smoking a joint in an abandoned skatepark with someone who has a rap sheet, huh?"

Well… maybe you have dreamt about it. But Natalie doesn't need to know that. "Didn't think it would ever happen, no." You nod, looking back over the spray-painted pavement. "I, uh, like the… fuzzy feeling from the weed, though."

"Fuzzy feeling." Natalie parrots, shaking her head, "You're high, Princess. That's what that fuzzy feeling is. You're high. Didn't even smoke that much. I forget how much of a lightweight newbloods are."

"Yeah, well, not all of us smoke our first joint at ten and do our first stint in juvie by twelve." You roll your eyes, and the teasing edge in your voice surprises even you. Maybe it's the weed talking—or perhaps it's Natalie, the way she makes you feel a little bolder than you would typically be.

To your surprise, Natalie seems to take the comment in stride. "I'll have you know I didn't do my first stint until I was fourteen, thank you." She grins, leaning back on her hands. "What's the most rebellious thing you've ever done, Princess? And, no, skipping class with me and smoking a joint doesn't count."

You have to think about that for a moment.

Like… a long moment. You really don't do anything that would be considered rebellious. "Uhhh… skipped a few times in middle school. Snuck out a handful of times after curfew to watch the meteor showers…" You're quickly realising how lame you sound. "I, uh, once I stole some vodka from my parent's liquor cabinet? But… nothing major, obviously."

Natalie lets out a low whistle, "Damn, you're a natural rebel, yeah? Sneaking out to watch meteor showers… stealing vodka from your parents once…" She shakes her head in mock disbelief. "You're adorable." A wistful sigh leaves her lips.

"Yeah…" You give a strained chuckle and rub the back of your neck, feeling far more bashful than you had been all afternoon. "What, uh, about you?" You ask, partially to deflect from the conversation about you and partially because you're actually curious. You've heard so much about her, so many stories and rumours… how many of them are actually true? "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

She shrugs, like she’s been asked this a hundred times before, and she probably has. "The usual. Got into some fights, boosted a car once—don’t recommend it, by the way—and maybe climbed a water tower drunk off my ass just to prove a point." She grins, clearly proud of herself. "Oh, and there was that time I broke into a swimming pool after hours. Almost got caught, but it was worth it."

That is… surprisingly far less than you thought it would be. Your kneejerk reaction is to ask, "Is that all?" but you know better. "What type of car?" You ask, which is a far safer question.

Natalie laughs, "That's what you're pulling from that?" She shakes her head, "Sure. Was a Mazda MX-5. Soft top. First gen. Did it on a dare. Belonged to some rich asshole that lived outside of Philly. Took way too fucking long to boost, and I was sweating balls the whole time. Never again."

"Damn." You murmur, "What did you do with the car once you got it started?" You ask, far too curious for your own good.

"Mm, that's a secret, Princess. Curiosity kills cats, or whatever the fuck the expression is." She smirks lazily, waving a hand dismissively. "Y'know, life is short as fuck. Shorter if you're someone like me." She takes a moment to light up a cigarette, "You ever think about that? Like… if all you do is follow the rules, what’s the point?"

You're not sure if it's the weed talking, but… her words hit heavier than you thought they would. "I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that," you admit, voice softer than intended. "I mean… I’ve always just done what I was supposed to, what everyone expected of me. Status quo, and all that." You shrug, but there's a lack of conviction behind it.

Natalie blows a few smoke rings before turning her gaze back to you, "Yeah? How's that working for you? Living the life of your dreams?"

You sigh and look away from her, then groan and lie down against the edge of the bowl, legs still dangling off of it. "I mean… I guess it's working out fine." You shake your head, not even convinced of your own words, "Sometimes, though? Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to… just…" You throw your hands up in frustration as you try and find the right words, "Just do whatever the hell I want. Like you, I guess."

She scoffs, but it isn't harsh like her previous ones have been; it's almost bordering on wistful. "Careful, Princess. That's the type of thinking that gets you into trouble." She puffs on her smoke several times, "The good type of trouble, don't get me wrong. The kind of trouble that makes life actually worth living.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just sit there, the quiet settling in again. But this time, it feels different—less like silence and more like… a mutual understanding.

The two of you sit out in quiet understanding for a little while until Natalie's cell vibrates. She fishes it out of her jacket pocket with a sigh and glances down at the cracked screen of her… you're pretty sure that's a Samsung S8, which is more than a few generations old at this point, but it's honestly not that surprising that she has an old, beat up phone.

"I gotta jet, Princess." She pushes herself into a standing position and swings her backpack over her shoulder, but before she leaves, she looks down at you, still sitting on the edge of the bowl. "But, for the record?" A grin twitches its way onto her face, "You're not half bad. Guess not every nerd is an uptight bitch, huh?" Then, she's off. Leaving you sitting on the edge of the skate bowl, reflecting on the past… however long you spent out here with her.

The silence left in her wake feels heavier than you'd expect—as if she took all the noise and chaos with her as she left. You sit there a while longer, brooding in the stillness. Your eyes drift to the snuffed-out roach of the joint the two of you shared, and you find a smile crossing your features as the words she left with replay in your mind.

"You're not half bad."

It's probably nothing to her, just another throwaway moment in the whirlwind that is her life, but to you? Well, to you, it feels like a seed of something has been sowed. Approval? A connection? Whatever it is, you let it linger.

Eventually, you rise, brushing off the nonexistent dust and dirt from your pants. The world feels different now—softer, maybe. Or maybe that’s just the buzz still coursing through your body. You know you should head home, but instead, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture of the empty skatepark, the graffiti-lined concrete glowing faintly in the golden light of the setting sun.

Maybe you’ll sketch it later. Perhaps you’ll save it as a reminder of this strange, unexpected, but welcome afternoon.

As you begin your walk home, you let your thoughts wander to Natalie—her casual confidence, her warm laugh, and how she made you feel that leaving your comfort zone, that safe little bubble you had built, was not only possible—but necessary.

You don't know if you'll see her again tomorrow, or the next day, or anytime soon, really.

But you sure as hell hope you do.

a/n: yall not gonna be getting anything even remotely romantic for a hot minute whoops (gotta build that tension yfm)

questions/comments/whatever? slide in my asks and ill maybe respond idk teehee

#natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #spoons (fics/blurbs)#butter knives (sfw)#from the cutlery drawer #crush

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kitorin · 1 year ago

Text

journal.

in which, itoshi rin's midnight writing exposes what he's kept concealed from you.

contents. itoshi rin x reader, 2.878 k words, fluff, angst (in the past), itoshi backstory spoilers (mixed with a few headcanons), 1st person rin pov for a bit (journal entry), regular highschool au

a/n. is this my best? no. but is it the best i have for today? yes. happy birthday to rin <3 after assignments are done i'll definitely rewrite this (i gave up on proofreading)

10 / 09 / 2023 : SUNDAY, 12:04 am - 3:21 am

Solitude has never been a foreigner.

In fact, he's quite a familiar individual, an old companion that never seems to leave.

Even before Nii chan left for Spain, solitude was still there for me. During class I wouldn't utter a word to anyone else unless necessary, and contrariwise for said classmates. People still spoke to me; just not to the extent that they'd know what my favourite foods were, or what I liked to watch in my free time, not even bothering with it. I've never been invited to hang out with anyone after school, or been to someone else's house (not that I particularly cared, I was just sure that I was the only one).

But I was okay with it. I didn't want, or need anyone else when Nii chan bought me ice blocks, giving me the bigger piece as we'd watch the sun's warm hues bleed into the sky; the saccharine iciness contrasting how warm is was to be swallowed by sunlight together. Dad took us fishing a lot, he's always been well acquainted with the sea, taking us to locations well populated by bream; my favourite. On our way home we'd harvest kelp (Nii chan likes it in rice, salted) and take photos together on our yacht, admiring how the sun greets the world farewell, sinking into the aquamarine. Mum makes amazing food, I'm constantly astonished at how she manages to memorise every preference, from my love for ochazuke to being able to pour the perfect amount of tea; the rice never becomes too soggy (even I can't pour the exact amount I like). Solitude was close to me, but my family were closer.

There's a lot I could say about them, they've done more than remember what I love and ensuring I was happy; I'm thankful they've delivered the right for me to be comforted, to have a shoulder to cry on, to be able to freely ramble on about whatever fascinated me.

I've always been happy, even if I'm alone outside of the walls I call home. Because whether I laughed my heart out or sobbed to the point I couldn't form a coherent sentence, I'd always come home running to my family. Nothing can beat dinner; where we all relish mum's food, ask each other about our days' and offer solace or advice when necessary.

I miss that. Terribly, to the point my heart aches.

I knew that Nii chan's departure to Europe (Spain, to be exact) would change a lot. I'd have to score without his guidance, walk home alone and buy my own popsicles. Dinner time would have one less soul to laugh with, and home would have one less to embrace.

I just never expected it to be painful change. I never predicted that his return would result in losing us entirely. I didn't think his homecoming would cause my immortal resentment towards the snow, or how my eyes prickle a bit at the mere thought of an ice block. I'd say it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, separation from him following it on the list of my worst experiences.

Solitude avoided me at home, but wasn't enough.

One time on the way home, I was overhearing the team's conversations (nothing particularly new really) and it was a discussion about the future. It was honestly surprising to find out only some of us intended to become soccer players; Nagi would rather stream or compete in professional gaming, Kurona wants to study marine biology in uni, and Yukimiya wants to give acting a go along with his modelling career. Even Isagi has a plan for if professional soccer isn't an option. He said he wanted to help others achieve their dreams if he fails to do so himself.

I remained silent as always, but had a lot more thoughts racing through my mind. Retreating to my room immediately that night, my first thought was to lie in bed, to neglect the clips I planned to analyse, to ignore muscle training for today and to slack off a bit. That's when I realized how sad the life I was living. I was sad because I was reminded of my reality.

I'm a mere myriad of distinguished achievements, though a hideous attempt of replicating genius Itoshi Sae. I'm a collection of formidable accomplishments, basking in the spotlight of glory and honour. The trophies and awards adorning my room prove it, standing tall with pride and flaunting my hard work.

That didn't mean anything. I had remained in a constant cycle of training, eating, and sleeping. My teammates were just as ambitious yet still worked hard on other things; Yukimiya enjoys modelling and Reo has a passion for economics, That must've been where I was lacking.

That's how I ended up writing again. It was an attempt to break out of this cyclical torture of constant training and sports.

I don't know how I remembered it, but I found my notebook from primary, all the stories messily scrawled yet legible. Scarlet adorned narratives birthed from child-like imagination, eulogising the prose, even though I almost flinched out of embarrassment.

Flipping through the pages, I had found the paragraph my teacher left me, insisting that I keep writing. Obviously, I never did. After getting into soccer I ignored everything school related, and would've found words on a page foolish anyways.

Many years later, I finally followed that advice.

The end result wasn't pretty. I paused a lot, struggled a lot, and almost gave up, a lot. It may have been hideous, but it was mine. A piece birthed from curiosity and memories from the past turned into another attempt. Another attempt morphed into extensive reading, I wanted to observe what was considered worthwhile or meaningless.

Writing rewove the early nights into late night reading, fully immersed in the author's thoughts translated into prose. Reading was the push to giving academics a go. Academics pulled me out of the endless cycle of soccer, there was more to life than training and diet regulation.

Books I can read. Words I can write. Exams I can study for and sports I can practice. Weights I can lift and competitions I can train for.

But to be loved, is so difficult.

It's not like an exam that you can study for and simply memorise the answers to. Or a match that has the security of a referee and reinforced rules. It's not something that can be guaranteed with a mentor.

People treat Isagi to his favourite whenever he has a bad day (he likes kintsuba). People advocate their favourite novels to Yukimiya and Chigiri, even going as far as memorising their preferences to curate their recommendations flawlessly. It must be nice, for someone to invest that sort of effort in you, even if it's simply remembering a hobby.

As my peers savoured the allure of love, estrangement and desolation constantly haunted me; a pest habituating the sleepless nights where I try to escape with a cup of coffee that's long gone cold.

It's lukewarm, praying for another's attention, care and love, to be hungry for one's time. I pathetically plead whoever manipulating my fate to provide me some sort of human connection. I shouldn't be so hopeful of others, yet I find myself dying of curiosity; what would it be like for someone to remember my birthday? Or tell me about the horror movie they adored?

I despise solitude's clinginess. But I hate how it makes me sob endlessly when no one watches.

I have myself. I have my thoughts which I've transcribed to oeuvre. I have the pile of books resting on my bedside table which sleep alongside with me. I have the trophies and awards I've won, I'll always appreciate my own talent and diligence, even if playing soccer brought me so much pain.

I think I'm somewhat pretty. I find my prominent eyelashes special to me, it's something unique to both me and Nii chan. My physique isn't too bad, either. I like the way my legs look, and my shoulders as I dry my hair.

I've always been proud of myself. I've always been enough and I always will be. Just not for others.

That's why I never expected my bond with solitude to be severed so easily. Especially because of y/n out of all people.

I still don't get how it happened. The oblivion to their presence became a peculiar first impression. An odd first meeting turned into abrupt yet regular greetings amidst hallways. Soon, I was sitting with them in every class, passing notes during tedious lessons and discussing our favourite media on the bus ride home.

Before I knew it, passionate rambles about books turned into watching movies together in my room. Whenever they greeted me their friendly wave was replaced with a tight hug, passing notes in class were accompanied with subtle kisses on the cheek.

Our relationship as friends was reimagined to lovers.

Something must've possessed me to blurt out the stupid crush I had on them, and I thank whatever drove me to do that. As awkward as I was it doesn't compare to the skip of my heartbeat when they accepted my feelings.

It's been almost a year since I met them, yet I still feel hot whenever they hold my hand, and flush red at every compliment they whisper. I still find myself stuttering sometimes whenever they're showing me a new outfit they've styled.

I love the way they smile, the creases of joy that adorn the outer corner of their eyes, and how they squint with glee and the sweet, melodious laughter that accompanies it; how breathless they sound whilst laughing. The expression they wear when deep in thought fascinates me, even if it's midway through an exam or them simply observing a video Bachira sent them. I adore their late night thoughts they text me at 3 am, the fatigue itching my eyes seem to evaporate when I notice their name on the notification. I treasure the notes we've scrawled on spare sheets of paper, they're still in between the pages of my books.

Even now, they're sleeping soundly in my bed, arms wrapped around the plush I bought them; I keep getting distracted by the sight of them so relaxed, chest rising up and down with each breath.

I would die for them. Because now I don't need to pretend to be invested on my phone to look less lonely. Now, I don't need to put my bag on the seat next to me to make it look like I sit alone by choice. I don't have to persuade the teacher to let me do group projects alone, or have to observe others with jealousy. Someone defends me from disparaging comments.

Because now, I'm not alone.

7:15 am

THE ENTRY COMES TO AN END, AND EMBARASSMENT DUSTS Rin's face a faint tint of pink. His eyes avoid contact with yours— as he waits for your input his latest piece.

"Well? What do you think?"

You're not sure where to start. You've always known about his strained relationship with his older brother, and how his friendship with his teammates wasn't the same in the beginning. But he never explained it in detail; you wouldn't've guessed that he had some sort of chionophobia, or even cried because he felt so secluded from others. The thought of him concealing his tears and pain from the rest of the world made your eyes prickle and sends your heart racing miserably.

"Doesn't matter—" He reaches for the notebook, closing it and tossing it onto his desk. "Forget it, you didn't see anything." He plops backwards again, head hitting the pillow and groaning as he covers his face with his forearm. "It was shit anyways, I'll rip it out and toss it later."

"It wasn't."

Rin stays silent.

You lie down, mimicking his current position and cup his cheeks with your hand. "You'll never be alone again—, I promise you that." Your voice falters ever so slightly, the thought of his pain makes you feel weak in the knees and sick to the stomach. "You're more than enough, you always have and always will be. You don't need anyone's validation to be beautiful, you never did."

Rin sighs, "I'm only like that because of you." Yet something seems to throb in his heart, the small but overpowering part of him that insists he requires another's approval to be important— someone finally proving that wrong.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is, our classmates still loathe me, so do people who barely see or speak to me." There was no lie in that; but it wasn't Rin's fault. "Yoichi and the others only spend time with me because of you."

"I was only the push for them to speak to you, you know they've always cared, they were just too nervous to speak to you. As competitive as he gets, Yoichi really admires you, to the point he gets so heated and ends up rambling about your skills." That's a secret that was supposed to remain in your private messages, but Yoichi doesn't need to know.

Satisfaction momentarily appears on Rin's face at the thought of his rival's great respect, though it doesn't last very long.

"He's my teammate so it's expected... everyone I speak to at school seems to have something against me, even our English teacher." The mistreatment at school is undeniable, it's not exactly bullying but there's no respect or human decency in how people behave towards him.

"Rin, love, you've done nothing wrong, hate isn't always rational. There will always be people who can't stand seeing others more successful, and that's not your fault."

"Really?" His eyes light up; despite having a sophisticated and cold demeanour all the time, he looks like a child again, hope dances in his wide eyes.

"Really." Your fingers take advantage of the opportunity and pinch his cheeks gently. "Don't listen to all those stupid rumours and assumptions, idiot. I'd fight anyone who tries to hurt you and win every time."

When your fingers let go he immediately kisses you, and it leaves you breathless; the way he pulls you in flexes his well toned biceps and his hand supports your head.

"Thank you." Rin whispers, pulling away a bit. "Thank you for appreciating me. Thank you for everything." It's a rare occurrence for him to sound so frail, same goes for the tremble of his bottom lip.

"Of course, I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." It's escorted by a peck on your nose, and a soft expression sculpted on his face.

Before Rin can throw a blanket over the two of you again, you interrupt.

"You shouldn't throw that entry away." You still haven't forgotten his initial intention with it. "I don't get why you think it's shit."

"It's rushed. And it's just me waffling on about my feelings and the past. There's no proofreading, and it's rushed. It's not even complete either."

"That's the whole point of writing, no? It's the expression of our words and thoughts." You reach towards his desk to pick up the notebook. "Not everything has to be written in one sitting, too."

Rin doesn't bother stopping you from looking through the notebook at this point. "It's still stupid. It's just that I had the urge and motivation to write in the dead of night."

"Well. I like it."

Rin's stoic expression crumbles, revealing the bashful side he keeps concealed from the world. "Then that's good enough for me." The red on his cheeks tell you that you've won the argument.

You turn back to the entry page, impressed with his barely legible yet pretty handwriting. "You should've slept instead."

"I don't get tired anyways." He's quickly betrayed by the yawn clawing out of his throat.

"Liar. Why would you stay up writing so late... your sleep is important you know?"

"Because you are love itself. I won't get a wink of sleep if it means I can think and write about you instead." Rin's pulls you in again, tossing his notebook elsewhere as he leans in. "I promise I'll finish that entry, no— I'll write a book about you one day."

"Writing this, writing that, sleep first dumbass." A smile tugs at your lips as you pull Rin back into the position you were cuddling in a few hours ago. Even though you were the one who slept a lot more, fatigue itched your eyes, and a yawn spilled out too.

In response, Rin tosses a blanket over the two of you, whispering good night as you begin to nod off a bit. He should rest too, he has training tomorrow and has to go to the gym as well.

The Itoshi Rin from before would've slept immediately. In fact, he wouldn't've stayed up in the first place, let alone date someone. But the Itoshi Rin now instead stares at you, admiring each and every feature of yours. You're his savior, the luminescent moon irradiating his world, guiding him away from the grasps of solitude and embracing him with love instead.

Tagging: @yuzurins (yumi you inspired this fic btw lol)

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #fluff #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi #rin #blue lock manga #blue lock rin itoshi #blue lock rin

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