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meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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vennilavee · 3 years

Text

love lockdown (7)

pairing: levi x reader summary: an anniversary spent together, and an old memory. warnings: wine, cursing, suggestive content, feelings of insecurity, smut (levi gets pegged)- 18+!!! word count: 4.3k a/n: based off of several asks you guys sent me hehe (the ones about the sweater curse, and tbah couple being the winery couple) tbah masterlist

Levi has been knitting for a long time, for years now, since a little before his mother had gotten sick. His mother had been the one to teach him- she had tried to even as a young boy, but he hadn’t really paid attention to it until he was older. He remembers how happy she had been when he had woven his first wool scarf. It’s been several years since his mother passed away, but he still keeps his knack for knitting alive and well.

Besides, it’s a way for him to feel close to his mother.

Levi has his favorite techniques tucked away in his brain and his favorite types of fabrics tucked away in a royal blue box in the corner of his linen closet. His trusty knitting needles also sit in the same box. It’s been a while since he had taken them out.

But he has decided that he’s going to knit you a thick blanket. Who better than to knit a blanket for anyway?

Once you and Levi begin to rack up anniversaries, Levi feels the need to do something different. Neither of you had celebrated monthly anniversaries because you felt no reason to (other than a nice candlelit dinner for your six month anniversary), but this specific moment in time feels different. Mainly because he’s come to the calming realization that you are it for him. And really, it’s a realization that has been brewing warmly for the last few months.

He’ll make it out of sunflower yellow yarn. The color that reminds him of you.

The idea is planted in his head about two months before and he sleeps on it. Before deciding that he wants to do it. It’ll take some time to finish, and he thinks he can have it done in a month or so.

Levi’s favorite way to knit is with a glass of whiskey and with the television turned on for background noise. With every stitch, he finds himself thinking of you- will you like it? He hopes you will- it’s not much, but it’s him.

But he has nothing to worry about, because he knows you’ll appreciate it. It’s part of why he keeps you around, after all.

“Dude, you’re knitting her a blanket? Have you never heard of the sweater curse?” Mike asks incredulously, “I would think you, as a well seasoned member in the knitting community, would know what the sweater curse is…”

“The what,” Levi says flatly.

“The sweater curse,” Mike repeats with a raise of an eyebrow.

“You repeating it doesn’t tell me what it means. Spit it out.”

“It’s when someone who knits makes a sweater, or anything really, for their significant other. And then the couple inevitably breaks up, because one of them realizes that they put in way more effort than the other,” Mike says. He says it so knowingly, as if it’s fact.

Levi scoffs with a slow roll of his eyes. But still, something uneasy settles in his chest. He tries to quell it before it sprouts and blossoms, and he does a mostly good job of it.

But Mike’s words stay with him for the rest of the day. Even when you had called him to say goodnight from your apartment, it had lingered in the back of his mind.

You could tell something was off- after all, you like to think you could read him like a book. Despite him giving you his full attention, you could tell he was distracted-

“Levi? Is everything okay?” You ask softly, “You seem... preoccupied.”

“Yes,” He says instantly.

With that, you don’t push him. But still you frown a little at him, wondering what could be bothering him. You decide to change the subject. It’s taken a while, but these days, if something was bothering him then he would tell you.

After letting it fester for a bit and after he tried to work through his feelings on his own.

“Hey, can I come over this weekend? I have something for you… And also your bed is comfier than mine.”

“Just say you wanna sleep on my bed. No need for false pretenses.”

“Well, it is a well known fact that your bed is superior to mine…”

You don’t push him and Levi is grateful for that. Maybe he’ll voice his concerns when you come over.

The blanket that Levi is preparing for you still needs about a week of work, but they are coming along nicely if he says so himself. The material is soft- he’s particular about what he works with and for you, he’s even more picky.

With each weave and stitch, he grows a tiny bit unsure about the stupid sweater curse. He curses Mike for putting such a stupid idea in his head. But what if it holds some truth to it? After all, he can vividly remember the instances of breakdowns in communication in the beginning- how many times he was so quick to jump to conclusions rather than talk things out with you.

He’s come a long way since then, but what if the stupid curse holds some truth to it?

His slight spiral takes a backseat when his phone vibrates, a text from you letting him know that you’ve just parked your car and you’ll be inside in a few minutes.

Levi makes his way to the lobby to greet you. Almost every time he does this, you protest, telling him that you can just meet him in his apartment. But every time, he greets you in the lobby whenever you visit him.

It’s small, but it makes your heart sing happily for your chivalrous man.

Levi takes your bags and touches your elbow lightly as you both wait for the elevator to ding. In the privacy of the elevator, you kiss him hello quickly.

“How was the drive?” Levi asks, rubbing your wrist.

“Felt longer than usual,” You admit, stifling a yawn. Levi hums in acknowledgement and keeps a hovering touch over your elbow as you both walk side by side to his apartment. You allow yourself the luxury of resting your head against his shoulder as he unlocks the front door.

“I would’ve come to pick you up if you were tired,” Levi scolds gently.

You shrug, “I don’t mind the drive, baby.”

Pet names slip easily from your lips when you’re in each other’s privacy and comfort.

“Go change and wash up,” Levi murmurs, patting your ass fondly, “I have dinner ready. I’ll pour you a glass of wine, shiraz good?”

You hum wordlessly and squeeze his arm with a grin. As you fumble through your small duffel bag that you specifically use for whenever you stay over Levi’s place, nerves begin to fizz up in your veins.

You sincerely hope Levi enjoys the small gift you had for him. Pulling on one of Levi’s looser shirts, your favorite purple hoodie and cozy leggings, you pull the gift tucked away in the side of the duffle bag and hide it behind your back.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, molding yourself to his side in the kitchen where he is setting plates for you both, “I have something for you, baby.”

“And what’s that?” Levi asks, bringing you in front of him and pressing your back against the kitchen countertop.

“Sit with me on the couch,” You murmur, tugging his hand in yours gently. Levi sees a small package in your hands as you not discreetly try to hide it from him.

You seem a little nervous, picking at the hem of your hoodie before finally raising your eyes to meet his.

You hope he likes it.

“It’s not much,” You mumble, “But…”

Levi unwraps the blue wrapping paper dotted with little cartoon stars on it with a raised eyebrow. His lips are pursed together in a thin line, wondering what it could possibly be and how he didn’t know you were planning to gift him something.

He thinks about the nearly completed blanket hidden in his bottom dresser drawer.

“It’s getting cold, and I know you don’t like how cold your neck gets in the winter,” You say, watching with wide eyes as he pulls out a rich navy sweater from the wrapping paper. It’s warm to the touch, the material thick and of good quality.

It doesn’t feel store bought.

“Did you- did you make this?” Levi says, almost incredulously, “You made this for me? Since when do you knit?”

“I don’t,” You say sheepishly, “You like knitting and I wanted to make something that you like. Or try to make something at least. If it’s shorter on one arm than the other, mind your business.”

Levi rolls his eyes and pats your head fondly. It had taken you months and hours to figure out what you were doing, with the help of videos and the elderly lady that you bought your fruits from on Saturdays.

He can’t believe you had done this right under his nose. But should he be so surprised, considering he is doing the same?

He wants to tell you about the blanket sitting at the bottom of his drawer, but he refrains. The sweater is a rich, blue that brings out his eyes (at least, according to you).

Levi instantly takes his shirt off to pull the sweater over his torso as you watch with hearts in your eyes.

“I know it’s not much… Do you-mmph-”

Your sentence is cut off by the abrupt press of his lips on yours. Levi leans over, laying his weight on top of you and kisses you soundly- his tongue slipping in your mouth with the tilt of his head. The material of the sweater tickles your chin and your cheeks. You’re surrounded by him- his kiss, his touch, his distinct love.

Levi knew he was worrying for no reason. The sweater curse might exist for other couples, but not for you both.

“Thank you,” He mumbles into your neck, his cheeks heating up, “It’s really warm.”

You only beam at him, adoration clear in the edges of your smile. Levi looks handsome, infinitely more handsome than usual since he’s wearing something that you made for him.

Your love looks good on him.

The memory of the sweater curse is amusing now, when Levi looks back on it. Now, five years later, he’s with you at a winery in celebration of your anniversary. You’re spending the night at a nearby hotel- you had picked the winery and Levi had picked the hotel.

If Levi was a painter, he thinks this would be the perfect picture to paint. You, in a sea of green vines and a clear sky beaming down on you. You, with your glowing skin and mischievous eyes. You, with love sitting in every crevice of your smile that you give him.

Maybe someday he’ll paint it. You, his sunshine personified.

“Mmm, Levi darling. Don’t you think this red wine contains a note of blueberry? Perhaps some...how do you say...raspberry?” You giggle behind your wine glass, the liquid swirling around carelessly.

“It’s a pomegranate wine sweetheart,” Levi says in amusement. You always do this at wine tastings, pretend like you’re an actual sommelier when in reality you and Levi mostly believe that all wine tastes the same.

“Close enough. It’s in the same family,” You huff.

“Oh is it? Blueberries taste like pomegranates now? What kind of berries have you been eating?”

“It’s called wine. You should try it sometime.”

That earns you a subtle swat of your ass and you giggle happily.

“It’s gorgeous out,” You sigh.

“Yes, it’s almost as gorgeous as you,” Levi says flatly and you nearly throw a slab of cheese at his chest, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Tell me you think I’m pretty.”

“You already know I do.”

“Tell me anyway. It’s my birthday, remember?”

“Your birthday just passed.”

“Okay, and? It’s still my birthday season.”

“You know you’re gorgeous. You know I think you’re gorgeous,” Levi rolls his eyes and then smirks, “But you’re prettiest when your mouth is stuffed full of-“

“I’ll blow you right here in these vines, don’t test me.”

“Stop making empty promises that were both too classy for and finish your damn wine.”

You beam at him and clink your glass noisily. It nearly slips from your grip but you catch it in time.

“We have about an hour until the wine tour. Think we can finish this bottle by then?” Levi murmurs, tugging on your hand for you to settle in his lap.

The vines you’re seated in are far, far away from the main entrance of the winery. Away from prying eyes. Which is why you both allow for a little touching, a little kissing and a lot of flirting.

“Who do you take us for?” You mumble and turn your head to kiss him lightly, “We’re wine connoisseurs. Sommeliers, if you will-“

You laugh wildly when Levi playfully nips your neck and steals a sip of your fruity wine. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His long, lithe fingers brush against your bare thigh. It’s funny, even after all these years, he still manages to touch you in a way that feels like magic.

You both finish your glasses of wine and eagerly fill them both up to finish off the bottle.

Your lips are stained a pretty red, matching Levi’s own lips. You touch his lips with your fingers and he doesn’t even swat your grabby hands away.

“There’s some cheese at the corner of your mouth,” You say flatly, “I’ll just get it off-“

You kiss him and he expects it, already used to your antics. He doesn’t let you get very far, only allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth and only allowing himself a plentiful grab of your ass.

“Wow, Levi, keep your hands to yourself. We’re in public,” You laugh to yourself, shooting him a pretend glare.

Levi only sighs and pops a cracker and cheese into his mouth, his hands never leaving the curve of your ass. Your giggles are higher pitched than usual, your limbs and your lips a little looser.

Tipsiness colors your dark eyes when Levi pulls your sunglasses off. “You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart,” Levi jeers, “You're drunk off your ass.”

“No! I’ve only had like… two glasses!” You protest, grabbing your sunglasses back from him.

Levi looks at you in disbelief but says nothing. He indulges you in taking selfies with him and deciding to change your lockscreen to a new photo of both of you.

He can’t resist kissing your cheek after another half a glass of wine. “Mmm, you’re pretty,” Levi murmurs into your neck, his face warm, “You wore this dress for me?”

It’s one of his favorite dresses and his favorite color on you, and yes, maybe you did wear it because you’re very well acquainted with this information.

“No,” You roll your eyes and ignore the pinch to your waist as he tightens his arm around you, “I wore it for the wine tour guide. She’s really pretty, I might ask for her number-”

You swat his shoulder when he has the audacity to bite your neck in response. “I’d call you a vampire but you’re looking more golden than usual, my love,” You poke him, “That’s what happens when you get more than two minutes of sun per day-”

“You’ve got a mouth on you today, huh?”

“Gonna fuck the attitude outta me or what?”

“Tempting, but I’ve got wines to taste.”

Once the wine tour starts and you both get progressively more and more tipsy, blaming it on both of your affinities for wine, you make grabby hands for Levi’s cheese and crackers. He glares at you, close to pushing your hand away, but you stick your tongue out at him and swipe them anyway.

“God, fuck, you know what would taste good with this wine,” You whisper (but really it’s more of a low groan).

“What?”

“Fuckin’ Thai food,” You moan, cracker crumbs sticking to the side of your mouth, “Fuck, babe, I could go for some pad see ew…”

You huff, a dreamy sort of look in your eyes at the thought of it.

“You’re interrupting the wine guide,” Levi scolds, swatting your thigh. Though his eyes are starting to unfocus as the heat of your thigh feels so nice in his palm. He thinks he’ll leave his hand there for a bit.

“This tastes like I just dunked my head into a crisp apple and sucked the juice out of it,” You murmur, giving him a mild cider.

“Like in a good way?” Levi whispers.

“Duh.”

The wine tour consists of a few other couples and groups, but you and Levi keep to yourselves at a corner table as you give each wine you taste a rating. They all begin to blend in with each other after each taste, and pretty soon, you’re heavily leaning against Levi. The scent of his warm, spicy cologne curls around you and envelopes you in a hazy daydream filled with shades of grey.

“What?” Levi whispers when he sees you staring (a little dopily, he might add).

“Nothin’,” You grin, “Wanna nap at the hotel after this?”

“Can’t believe we’re getting drunk just to nap together,” Levi scoffs but he squeezes your hand.

“We have reservations later,” You remind him, “We both need to rally before dinner, honey.”

“Are you ready, baby?” You purr, stroking Levi’s hair back and leaning over to kiss his forehead. A pretty peachy pink blush colors his cheeks and creeps down to his neck. You tug his bottom lip out from the grip of his teeth.

A thin sheen of sweat coats his skin. You grin salaciously with hungry eyes and lick a stripe up his neck. His breath hitches, tilting his neck to the side a bit and you kiss his neck even over his pretty necklace with a green pendant hanging on the gold chain.

It’s pretty because it’s your necklace.

The softness of your lips over his skin- his chiseled chest, his lower abs- is a nice compliment to your fingers gently skimming his sides. You sit back, looking down at him from above. You lick your lips to moisten your suddenly dry mouth.

You’ve seen Levi like this, pliant and glistening for you too many times to count. But still, the sight of him flusters you and sends an instant rush of wetness flooding your pussy.

You adjust the straps of the black harness around your hips, tugging at the pretty purple silicone cock that hangs heavy between your legs. Levi tracks your movement with blown out eyes and a hand wrapped around his own thick, dripping cock.

“Did you like my fingers, baby,” You murmur, letting your hands travel up the expanse of his chest. His muscles tense with your touch, goosebumps arising instantly.

Levi hums, reaching for your hands and rubbing your knuckles.

“Mmm, words, my love,” You mumble, pressing a thumb to his plump bottom lip. His hot breath warms your finger when he opens his mouth to reply with a soft ‘yes, sweetheart’, his voice heady and low. Broken and slow with desire for you.

You pull away from his lips, ignoring the way arousal swirls in your belly and your clit throbs with how needy he looks already. You reach forward and stroke his cock languidly and gather his wetness over your thumb and press your thumb to his bottom lip again.

“Open, baby,” You say, your own voice sounding a little raspy, “Open up.”

Levi parts his lips and allows your thumb into his mouth and he swirls his tongue over it, tasting himself on his lips. You groan at the sight with hooded eyes, wishing for some friction over your clit.

You look like a vision hovering over him- your legs tanned and glowing, eyes zeroed in on him, looking at him like you want to absolutely ruin him. You are a goddess, and he’ll follow you wherever you might take him.

Especially when you slide into him slowly, deliciously, as he savors the slight burn as it dissipates into pleasure. Your grip is tight over his hips, warmth and electricity spreading from your fingertips to his belly.

You’ll ruin him, ruin the silky navy sheets below him, steal his soul from his cock. All of the above. Anything you give him, he’ll take. He’ll take it with open lips and open legs.

It doesn’t take much for you to find a rhythm with your palms flat on the sheets on either side of Levi. Arousal licks your insides at every gaze of his heated cheeks and his murky, grey eyes. He’s openly vocal with you, panting and mewling into the sheets, alternating between fisting them and holding your hips with a searing grip.

“God, baby, look at you,” You whine, leaving open mouthed kisses to his chest while still rocking your hips into him, “Is this okay, baby? I love you-”

Levi groans and nods, wrapping his legs around your waist for a deeper grind of your cock. He palms your tits, squeezing in his large hands and moans into the space between you both.

“Are you wet,” Levi asks in a strangled voice.

“Fuck yeah,” You grin, thrusting your hips in a slow grind into him. His cock is throbbing, standing tall and pretty for you. You stroke him slowly, matching your thrusts with your strokes.

It takes coordination, but you’re used to it.

“Wanna sit on my face?” Levi murmurs, squeezing your thighs with his heavy hands. He’s close, so close, and you both know it- his thighs begin to quake slightly. And he has the familiar look in his face when he’s about to cum, his eyes go dark, lips parted and his eyebrows are furrowed into a tight line.

“Mmm, maybe later,” You reply instantly, wanting to see him come undone by your hands and by your cock. By you, by the steadfast beat of love that surrounds you both and envelopes you on this silky sweet cotton candy cloud.

Or maybe it’s just the sheets.

“Is my baby close?” You purr, dark eyes swirling, “My baby’s gonna cum?”

“Fuck,” Levi groans, throwing his head back onto the bed when you thrust into him particularly harshly. The column of his pretty throat is exposed to you and you lean forward, his cock still in one hand. Sucking a mark on his clavicle, you nip his earlobe and his breath hitches as you make your way down his chest.

“Your cock is so big in my hands,” You marvel softly, looking down, “You’re so big, baby…So good to me. My big, strong, sexy man.”

And apparently, that’s what he needs to finally cum, a long, drawn out groan of your name slipping out of his mouth as he shakes in your hold. Ribbons of cum paint your hand and his lower abs, some of it even spraying on your harness.

“You’re messy,” You tease and Levi only hums in acknowledgement, “Are you okay? I’ll go get you water and clean you up, sweetheart.”

Levi doesn’t move, only shifting on his side tiredly. You make your way to the fancy, marbled bathroom to unclasp the harness and clean yourself up. Your pussy still throbs, achingly so, but that’s the last thing on your mind.

He calls your name gruffly, voice a little hoarse. You return to him with a glass of water and wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing the back of his neck gently. Your fingers thread over his sore muscles, his abdomen and his thighs and you rub his scalp soothingly with a deft touch.

“Are you okay?” You murmur, hugging him close to your chest.

“Yes,” Levi says instantly, “More than okay.” He turns in your arms and pushes his head into your bare chest, inhaling deeply and innocently grabs your ass. Just to hold you close- his touch is mostly unassuming. He likes being close to you, touching you, just breathing with you after times like this when you steal his soul with your cock.

You glance down at him and smile, pushing his dark hair away from his forehead and press a kiss to his sweaty skin. Levi nuzzles his cheek further into your chest, a content hum rumbling in his chest. His thigh brushes against your aching core and you force yourself to stifle a groan. But he catches it, because he always does.

Your attentive man.

“You didn’t cum,” Levi states, letting his hand drift downwards to palm your sensitive pussy.

“We have later for that,” You mumble, swatting his hand away but he doesn’t listen. He presses himself closer to you, sinking his lips into your neck and rubbing your clit lazily.

His long, lithe fingers slide into your wetness easily and you huff into his ear. “We have now for that,” Levi murmurs, nipping your jaw as presses his finger into your dripping core, “Slow with me, baby.”

It doesn’t take much for you to cum, just a few strokes of his fingers in you and a few slow circles of his thumb on your clit. It hits you slowly, crawling up your toes before curling in your belly in a warm stroke of flames. It’s unhurried as it blooms in your belly, allowing you to savor every second of it.

“Sit on my face later,” Levi says, pulling you closer into his side. You throw a leg up around his hip and hum in agreement. You press a kiss to his clavicle, the slow of his heartbeat in tandem with the gentleness of your fingertips rolling through his hair.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” You mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Our anniversary was on Friday,” Levi says with a turn of his lips, earning himself a swat to his chest, “Happy anniversary, pretty girl.”

Levi kisses your forehead, his knuckles brushing your cheek before dipping down for another kiss.

“Cheers to many more,” You say, smiling into his kiss. He replies by deepening the kiss and pressing your back to the bed, allowing himself to drop on top of you.

Levi’s touch has always made you feel infinite, and this time is no different.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @kentobean @alrightberries @melancholicmonologue @regalillegal @castellandiangelo

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #aot x reader #snk x reader

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yyparkq · 4 years

Text

cuffed

Since you decided to end your arrangement with Jackson six months ago with respect to his newfound girlfriend, you exerted an awful lot of effort to stop yourself from coming back to him every time you’re feeling lonely. Depriving your own self of mindblowing orgasms takes too much of your energy and willpower but thankfully you manage to get by with toys to play with yourself…and occasional hookups from blind dates.

Never in your whole life has your current situation crossed your mind. Even as you usually roleplay and engage in kinks, you never imagined being stuck in a situation so frustrating and embarrassing—thanks for the drought brought to you by the demands of your career and the lack of trustworthy dudes around you to satisfy you.

In your apartment, you have a magnificent view of the setting sun painting the sky a mixed hue of orange and magenta at the veranda, one of your favorite places to spend time contemplating about things. Now is definitely not that time, though. Not when you’re stark naked on your bed with one of your wrists handcuffed in one of your bedposts after your fuck for the night—who turns out to be having a pregnant girlfriend—left you alone in a hurry to attend to some emergency situation just before going down on you.

The situation infuriates the hell out of you. You were too blindsided by your sexual needs earlier that you simply agree to the man’s requests, even if it meant being tied up while being fucked. As soon as you reached your apartment, articles of your clothing were discarded quickly and your wrist ended up being cuffed. The man you were with excused himself for a while when his phone didn’t stop ringing. You expected him to turn his phone off and resume touching your body but to your surprise, you saw him peeking at your door, fully dressed again and with a look of panic and terror in his eyes. Within a few feet away from you, he told you that he actually has a girlfriend and that she’s at the hospital right now about to give birth to their child. What a douche.

You were too shocked to respond immediately and just let him get his way only to remember that your hands are remotely tied as soon as you heard your front door shut.

It was one of those times when you wish you were in your normal logical self. You could have saved yourself the trouble if you noticed immediately that one of your wrists is bound. Looking around the room, you found the nearest piece of clothing you previously wore six feet away from you, too impossible for you to barely reach. The only thing that you could use at that point to cover yourself is the bed sheets where you were lain on.

You couldn’t stay like that forever. You need to act and think quickly before you could actually spend the night helpless in your own apartment.

Fortunately, you noticed that your smartwatch remained fastened around your other wrist—the free wrist—and you were able to call and ask someone for help. You’re too embarrassed to call just anyone so you managed to narrow your list to the two most trustworthy people in your life—your two best friends. The first resort is your girl best friend from college. She’s been one of the constant people in your life and you’re fairly confident the situation will not faze your friendship and she will not judge you at all. But she wasn’t picking up your calls and you’re slowly getting anxious so you opt to phone the other person on your list—Jackson Wang.

As if he’s been waiting for you to call at that moment, Jackson picks up his phone only after a ring. You sighed in relief as you heard his familiar voice on the other line, your stomach tied in knots as you spoke to him, asking him to come over to your apartment immediately, not disclosing the situation yet because you’re too ashamed.

Jackson must have sensed the urgency in your voice even though you tried to act cool since it took him only less than an hour to reach your house. He let himself in using your old passcode he knew very well by heart.

He was dumbfounded when he arrived and saw the situation you are in. For almost five minutes, he was laughing his ass off looking at you and not even bothering to free your wrist from the restraints.

Oh god, you miss him terribly. It’s almost half a year since you’ve been in the same room and in this close proximity with this man and you’d be lying if you say you don’t miss him one bit. After all, he has the ability to cloud your mind any time of the day; most especially at night when you’re lonely and craving someone’s touch.

“So,” he says and clears his throat before continuing. “You need my help?”

You roll your eyes, reminded of how annoying he could be when he’s not pleasing you on the bed. “Why do you think I called you here then? To mock the shit out of me? Get the fucking keys on the kitchen counter, Jackson. Please. For goodness sake!”

He cocks an eyebrow at your tone.

“No, I thought you’re horny and that motherfucker didn’t even get to touch you? You know I’d be glad to help you with your release,” he says, reaching out to caress your thighs on top of the sheets.

You know. To be honest, a part of you hoped you could spend the night with him. He’s irreplaceable. You never found a guy as good as Jackson does make you feel when it comes to bed. Though you never really told him, he’s set the standard too high for all the other guys and you’re evidently struggling because of it. Most guys you dated to fill in the void of him doesn’t come as close to him. They all prioritized their own releases and hardly even cared whether you reached yours or not. It’s frustrating.

You let your free hand clutch the material draped on your chest and feel your heart thump loudly as his hand inched closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re afraid he might feel the wetness still dripping out of your core. After hearing his voice on the other line after a long time, you were reminded of how good he could make you feel with his tongue and hands working wonders on your body and you can’t help but touch yourself once again, having a little fun of your own.

Jackson lifts the cover from your body and you almost shriek when the cold air nip against your flushed skin. Your legs attempt to close together in reflex but both his hands immediately stop it. He takes a good look at your core and smirks at the way your juices were smeared between your legs, visibly staining the light gray sheets beneath you.

“I thought he didn’t even touch you and yet you’re here dripping wet,” he squints at the realization. “Did you touch yourself?” he asks, thumbing between your folds to gather your wetness and bringing his own fingers to his lips.

You stare as Jackson licked your juices off his fingers clean. His eyes turning darker with lust as you moan at the sight of him. At this point, you can feel your core burning with desire more than ever and you couldn’t care less whether or not his pronounced girlfriend finds out about the two of you fucking behind her back. You want him back. He was yours to begin with, anyway.

“I asked you, baby.”

Your pussy clenched at the hoarseness of his voice and you groaned at the fact that nothing’s still inside you. “Fuck me, Jackson.”

“Were you thinking about that motherfucker while touching yourself? You know you can’t get what you want unless you answer my question.”

“God damn it. I was thinking of you. Shit—” you scream when he slaps your pussy quite harshly.

He’s definitely enjoying this. “Watch your words, baby. Now, tell me, what was I doing when you were touching yourself?” he asks before lightly patting your core to ease the pain.

“When—when you..when you ate my pussy during your girlfriend’s birthday party,” you stutter.

He smirks, recalling how he devoured your pussy inside the house while his girlfriend attended to her guests at the party. “Oh, yeah. That was fun.”

The memory and the sight of you squirming beneath him was enough for Jackson to undress to take out his dick and stroke it a few times before running the tip along your folds to lubricate himself.

“You’re still on pill?” he asks and you nod. He hovers over you on the bed.

Jackson kisses you before finally sheathing himself inside of you. He pants and stops moving for a while, letting you adjust around his girth for a few seconds, before thrusting into you. “Fucking tight. I miss you,” he whispers to your ear and lightly bites on the sensitive area of your neck. His hands roam around your body before settling one to play on your clit and the other to massage your breast and pinch your nipple.

Jackson fucked you fast and hard, filling you up deliciously after six fucking months.

The room is filled with your heavy pants and mixed noises of skin slapping against skin and metal clacking of the handcuffs against the bedpost. Your bounded wrist starting to ache but you didn’t mind.

You bite your lip and grip Jackson’s hair harder as you feel yourself nearing your release. “I’m about to cum—fuck, Jackson—stop..oh my god.”

“Good girl,” Jackson praises you for cumming so hard and fast but did not waver with his thrusts.

You quiver and try to stop his hips from moving but he still continues to pound into you, lifting your left leg up and positioning himself from your behind this time. You’re twice as helpless with having only one hand free.

“I want you to cum again, baby girl,” he groans to your ear. His thrusts are getting sloppier signaling his release. He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you came right after him.

Jackson stays buried inside of you for a few more minutes as you two try to catch your breath. Eventually, he gets up and retrieves the keys to your handcuffs from the pocket of his pants.

You stare at him in disbelief. “You had the fucking keys all this time?”

“Yes, I saw it on the couch,” he smirks and unlocks the metal.

“Then why didn’t you remove this shit earlier you motherfucker,”

“You know how much I enjoy seeing you beg baby.”

Jackson grabs a towel from your drawer and cleans you up, not missing the chance to tease you once in a while. He inspects your previously bounded wrists and places light kisses around the marked area.

You were almost touched by the gesture until you remember his girlfriend and the shit you just did behind her back.

“Hey, what about…your girlfriend?” you try to play it cool. Honestly, you don’t even remember her name by now.

“Yeah, we broke up two months ago,” he says nonchalantly.

Two months ago? And he didn’t bother telling you?

#jackson smut #jackson wang smut #got7 smut #jackson fanfic #jackson scenario #got7 fanfic #wang jiaer #wang jiaer smut #wang jier smut #jackson fan fiction #mark tuan smut #jaebeom smut #yugyeom smut #youngjae smut #bambam smut #jinyoung smut

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maybankiara · 3 years

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

18: MR. WHITE CLAW

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: long one! sorry about it. i promise it won’t happen a lot. also, if i catch one of yous hating on holden you’re gonna catch these hands. <3

read on wattpad

previous part | series masterlist

Me | 6:42pm I swear it’s fate that you’re coming back today because you know what Me | 6:42pm MARIANNE IS MAKING GOULASH TOMORROW Me | 6:43pm surprisingly unrelated to you coming back but hey!!

Drew | 6:45pm no way! Drew | 6:45pm Does she make good goulash?

Me | 6:46pm I’d be able to tell if she ever made it before lmao Me | 6:46pm it’s her first time Me | 6:47pm but she’s a pretty good cook overall so!! I wouldn’t expect like a masterpiece or whatever but a decent meal??? Me | 6:47pm f yeah

Drew | 6:48pm I’m inviting myself over Drew | 6:50pm what time should I come by?

Me | 6:57pm if you think for one (1) second that this wasn’t an invitation Me | 6:57pm you are terribly wrong, mr. white claw man

Drew | 7:01pm ok but WHEN SHOULD I COME OVER

Me | 7:02pm oh right

Drew | 7:05pm ???

Me | 7:05pm Marianne says goulash will be around 6 but you can come over at like 4 or 5 so we can catch up!! Me | 7:06pm I still need to show you the album!! I developed some photos I took since we hung out

Drew | 7:07pm 4 sounds great, can’t wait!! Drew | 7:07pm I’ll make sure to bring some White Claw Drew | 7:07pm What does Marianne drink?

Me | 7:08pm Vodka Me | 7:08pm Tequilla Me | 7:09pm jk you don’t have to bring anything, we have enough alcohol in the fridge

Drew | 7:10pm Still bringing beer

Me | 7:10pm And good vibes

Drew | 7:10pm And good vibes, of course

Me | 7:10pm Gonna be good 😄

◇

The bell rings shortly past four o’clock, and Addie buzzes their guest in with a smile on her face. Marianne peeks from the kitchen, leaning over the corner, strands of her hair falling from underneath the headband-bun combo she’s sporting for the cooking.

‘Is it the celebrity judge?’

‘Sure is a judge,’ Addie says, unlocking the door. ‘Not so sure he’d like the celebrity title.’

The door opens and reveals a smiling Drew, in his usual attire – a simple grey tee with a Queen logo on it, black jeans, and a baseball cap. Greetings are exchanged, and then Drew’s taking his shoes off as Addie warns him that maybe Marianne might be a bit much today. There’s a casual whiff of cologne that Addie catches – it’s similar to Holden’s minty one, but simpler.

‘You ready to munch on some British-French-American-Hungarian goulash?’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Is anyone ever ready for that?’

‘Nope. But Marianne has just called you the celebrity judge of her nonexistent cooking show, so you’ve got no choice but to be ready.’

‘Fair,’ he says, just as Marianne shouts from the kitchen, ‘I’ll have my cooking show soon!’

The self-proclaimed chef pops out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula covered in a dark red, thick liquid. Her red-and-white apron is tied haphazardly around her waist; both the apron and the sweatpants have already become victims to her cooking, and the bun seems to be getting looser by the minute. Marianne flashes the two a massive grin, one finger pointed at Drew.

‘Drew!’

‘Marianne!’

Her grin widens so much Addie’s worried it’ll rip her cheeks. She wiggles her finger, then, in a come here motion. ‘I need your goulash expertise, stat.’

‘Give the man a moment to breathe,’ says Addie. Next to her, Drew chuckles.

‘Do you want to enjoy the goulash?’

‘Yes?’

‘Then let the ones who can make it good do it and stay out of it.’ Marianne crosses her arms over her chest, and a drop of liquid falls off the spatula. She doesn’t even notice. ‘Drew?’

‘Coming right up, boss.’

With a pat on the back from Addie, Drew departs into the kitchen. Marianne is already listing off all the things that she’s put in the goulash, how she’s done it so far, and how the internet has told her needs to be done from now on. Addie tunes most of it out – while she thinks Marianne is one of the best cooks she’s ever met, after living with her for over a year, some things you can’t help but get used to and eventually, get a little bit tired of. She’s happy there’s Drew, though, because he’s either very interested in Marianne’s process and amused by her telling of it, or very good at pretending to be so.

Addie grabs a rather small box with a pink bow on it out of the hallway drawer, right next to a grey envelope, then makes her way to the stack of French books lying underneath the TV. The newest copy of a first-edition of The Unbearable Lightness of Being in French is lying on top of a photo album, the same one that Addie told Drew stories from the last time he was over here. She tucks it under her arm and brings it to the kitchen, which has a prominent smell of Marianne’s cooking – a lot of spices, some of them even scattered around with powder spilling out at the edges, and wine that’s both a part of the dish and accompanying Marianne and whoever’s keeping her company. This time it’s Drew, so instead of wine, there’s a can of White Claw in his hands. Addie chuckles to herself.

Marianne, huddled over the steaming pot, motions for Addie to come closer without looking. ‘How does this smell?’

‘I don’t know how a goulash is supposed to smell.’

‘Like that,’ Drew answers. ‘Stop worrying so much.’

‘If it can be better, I’ll make it better,’ replies Marianne, then asks him to contribute with some spices and then stir it. ‘If it goes badly, you made it. If it’s great, I made it.’

Drew laughed. It was a big kind of laugh, the one that fills out the entire room. Taking a seat at their modest dining table, Addie realised it’s been a while since anyone other than the two of them laughed so freely in this place. (That just made her miserable; she needs to stop focusing so much on work and her studies if she wants to retain a semblance of a social life.) She puts the album down, and places the box right underneath it – just enough to be noticeable.

‘Addie, you didn’t tell me your roommate is basically the female equivalent to Gordon Ramsay.’ Drew’s leaning against one of the cupboards, sipping his drink with a smile. Marianne elbows him in the shoulder, frowning.

‘The kids one, maybe. I don’t swear, that’s Addie’s job. She’s the sailor.’

‘Bitch,’ says Addie under her breath, feeling warmth creeping up into her cheeks as she smiles. ‘Calling me out like that.’

Marianne doesn’t look at her, but Addie hears her quiet giggle. ‘That’s a quarter.’

Addie sighs, and Drew lets out a chuckle that sounds a lot like oh. He probably figured out what the jar filled up with quarters is, and Addie thinks he’s finding it a little too amusing, so she says, ‘Don’t laugh.’

Of course, it doesn’t work.

‘That’s kind of funny, you’ve got to admit.’

‘No.’

He raises his eyebrows at her, not even trying to hide the smile. Addie calls him to look at the albums, after she places a quarter in the jar, because she can feel Marianne is about to side with him and go on a tirade where she makes fun of Addie’s bad habit – not that she minds, really, but she’d much rather see what Drew thinks of the photographs and his birthday present.

It ends up taking him a long time to notice it, which starts driving Addie nuts, but she wants him to be the one to notice it, because… Well. She doesn’t really have a reason.

They go through the photographs and Marianne is hovering over Drew’s shoulder, nearly dripping the goulash a few times onto the album, until Addie tells her that her goulash is burning (it isn’t) and she finally leaves the spatula where it belongs, before coming back to look. She likes the photos, and so does Drew – Addie had most of them developed, both from Waystone and the park they were in. Most of them were of the places, but there were a few of Drew. They weren’t the best quality, but his face was relaxed in them, and he was smiling with a playful glint in his eyes, and Addie liked them more than the ones where he looked like he was posing. (She developed those, too, but still hasn’t quite figured out where to put them. She’ll probably give them to him.) Good memories were made that day, and friendships cemented, too.

When he finally notices the box, his eyebrows shoot up. ‘Is this the present?’

Addie just nods and waits. She’s thankful that Marianne is humming along to the music while she stirs the pot, because it means that there’s no awkward silence while he carefully unwraps the bow, as if it would break if he tugged on it too hard. He opens it, finally, and laughs – Addie feels like he’s been laughing a lot more recently.

He holds the present in his hand, shaking his head. ‘A phone case. Really?’

‘Yep.’ Addie grins so hard she bites a little on the inside of her lip; what if he doesn’t like it? She pushes the thought away. ‘Can’t have us swapping our phones again.’

‘True. Although, it did end up in a pretty good thing.’

‘I guess it did, yeah.’

There’s a moment where they’re just staring at the phone case, as if it is about to start talking. Addie kind of wishes it would, and once again feels thankful for Marianne’s music. She doesn’t want to start reminiscing, but that’s where her brain is going, and suddenly she finds herself thinking about that summer morning where she was hungover and half-asleep when she met him and it feels weird that it’s been nearly six months since that. It feels like it was yesterday, but it feels like Drew’s always been around.

‘Mr. White Claw,’ he reads off the back of the matt case, amused. Addie’s pretty proud of herself for that one.

‘Nothing describes you better than that, basic white bitch.’ She smiles at him, and kicks him under the table so he’d look at her. ‘Happy birthday, dude.’

‘Thanks.’ He raises his can and waits until she raises hers, then says, ‘To swapping phones.’

Addie clinks the can against his. ‘And making friends.’

‘And putting another quarter in the jar. Don’t think I didn’t hear that.’

‘Marianne.’

‘Nu-uh.’ Marianne snaps her fingers, pointing first at Addie as she speaks, then Drew. ‘You, quarter in the jar, and now that the ceremony’s over, I need you back at the cooking station. The goulash ain’t gonna cook itself, mec.’

As Marianne says, the other two do. Addie is honestly just grateful she doesn’t have to be the one helping out in the kitchen, because as much as she enjoys cooking, Marianne’ demands get on her nerves sometimes. That, and Drew is actually enjoying helping her out. Addie gets to sit back and relax, listen to her friends make food and bond over the dishes they can make—turns out Drew is incredible at making his mum’s casserole recipe, and promises to bring it over someday—and she feels like she’s come a long way from being holed up in her room, studying and working. Even if sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed.

In between helping Marianne, Drew puts the phone case in its rightful place. It’s a bit cheesy, but Addie likes the thought that there’ll be a reminder of their friendship with him at all times, if he likes it as much as she thinks he does. It’s a bit silly, too. Addie likes giving and receiving presents that are more silly than useful, which is probably not the savvy and mature way to approach life.

Time wears on, and Addie includes herself every now and then, mostly just chilling on her phone as the two work towards what they claim is going to be a masterpiece. She highly doubts it, and it’s amusing whenever she voices her opinion and they try to argue otherwise. She likes to see them getting along – she’d never admit it, but as much as she knows and loves Marianne, a part of her was still scared he’d get the celebrity treatment. Now, she watches as Marianne threatens to throw goulash if he doesn’t cut the pepper faster, and she can only laugh.

Her phone chimes and there’s a text message displayed over Holden and Addie’s faces – a picture taken barely a week ago. They look happy together, and seeing it brings a smile to her face. As Addie texts back, Marianne ushers Drew away from the pot, finally taking over. Drew joins her at the table with a can of White Claw and a can of Heineken.

She puts her phone down and takes the Heineken with thanks. ‘Cooking time over?’

Drew nods. ‘The chef fired me. I think.’

‘Yeah,’ Addie laughs, ‘the chef tends to do that.’

To prove a point, Marianne gives them the finger, and says a whole sentence in French out of which Addie can only understand ‘merde’, and that is mostly because she turns around for that word, glaring at the two. Drew nearly chokes on his drink, and Addie just shrugs, because it’s Marianne, and no one can really understand Marianne. A conversation starts about photography and how Drew did mean to bring the camera, but he left it with Chase and Madelyn when he was visiting, and he ends up telling them stories from all the sets he’s been on.

When the bell chimes again, he’s the first one to notice, as he’s sitting not even a foot from the entrance into the kitchen. ‘Someone ringing?’

‘Oh, god, I forgot— Thanks!’

Addie makes a beeline for the hallway, giving her friends a quick ‘one moment!’ in lieu of an explanation. She’s at the front door within seconds and opens it with a smile, greeting her boyfriend with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

Holden chuckles, and then he’s giving her a brief kiss on the lips before they part. ‘Hello there. You had a bit to drink?’

‘A little,’ Addie says, feeling the heat in her cheeks. ‘I’m glad you stopped by.’

‘Me too.’ His hand falls from her waist and he takes a step back, looking around. ‘You’ve got the papers?’

Addie reaches into the drawer and takes the grey folder out of it, but doesn’t give it to him just yet. ‘I know you’re in a hurry, but Marianne is making enough goulash for a whole village, and Drew’s here, and I want to introduce you.’

‘He’s here?’ he asks, just at the same time as Marianne shouts from the kitchen, ‘WHO IS IT?’

In her defense, she thought it would’ve been a nice surprise for Holden to stop by and stick around for a little bit once he got what he came here for, and maybe chat to her friends for a few minutes. The idea might’ve been fine, but hearing Holden’s little sigh at the realisation and a guaranteed confusion from the two in the kitchen, it might’ve not been a fine surprise. This paired with Holden only meeting Marianne of her friends so far...

‘C’mon,’ she tells him, hoping to reassure herself just as much, and takes hold of his hand. ‘They don’t bite.’

Back in the kitchen, Marianne and Drew are leaning on the cupboards, both of them silent and waiting. Addie walkins into the kitchen first, and she watches their eyes follow her hand – the one which drags Holden in behind her. Marianne shouts his name and nearly leaps to hug him, while Drew remains at his spot, gnacing between the two having a quick catch-up and Addie, who tries to tell him not to worry in the form of a smile.

His eyes keep dropping back to their hands, intertwined, and she can see barely-concealed confusion on his face.

‘This is Holden,’ she says, now that Marianne isn’t hogging him anymore. ‘My boyfriend. Holden, this is Drew.’

They shake hands and exchange the ‘nice to meet you’s without anyone feeling the need to prove themselves to be the Alpha male, so Addie counts it as a win. Not that she thought either of them would do that – she just hasn’t seen Drew interact with anyone who wasn’t her or Marianne, and Drew is, after Marianne, the first person from Addie’s life Holden has gotten to meet.

The more she thinks of it, the more she realises how risky it was.

‘You’re the actor Drew, right?’

For a moment, Addie just watches Drew – his hands are crossed on his chest and he looks a little menacing, now that she tries to see him from Holden’s perspective. Tall and pretty attractive, pretty relaxed in a place he’s barely been to, and with the reputation of a successful actor – and to top it all off, a resting bitch face.

Addie’s heart skips a beat.

Drew laughs and she feels relief wash over her, instead. ‘Is that how she presents me to people?’

‘Drew, it’s literally how we met,’ she says, rolling her eyes at him from across the room. ‘How else am I supposed to explain how I know you?’

‘Fair.’

There’s a moment where the sizzling of the goulash is all that can be heard, but Addie doesn’t think it’s one of those heavy silences, where every person seems like they’re holding their breath. She takes it as a good sign.

Holden pats his thigh, then, and he has an apologetic face when he says, ‘I’ve got to go. Work won’t wait forever.’ He flashes Drew a smile. ‘Nice meeting you, Drew.’

‘You too.’

Addie sighs. ‘You just got here.’

He opens his mouth to say something, but Marianne is quicker: ‘You try this goulash, look me in the eye, and say you don’t want more of it.’ There’s no and then you can go, because Addie has a feeling Marianne knows pretty well just how good the goulash is.

She commands the room as she approaches Holden with the tiniest bit of goulash steaming from the spatula over her hand. Her eyes are determined and there’s a crook in the corner of her lips – the sly kind of smile when she knows she’s already won. Holden doesn’t get a chance to protest, because the spatula is headed for him, and he’s got nothing to do but take it.

The room holds a breath. Even Drew is looking at Holden in expectation, chin resting on the palm of his hand.

For a bit, Holden just coughs and complains about the hotness (Marianne argued he had to have been blind to not see that it was steaming). Once he’s finally back to normal breathing and side-eyeing Addie for giggling at him, he tells Marianne it’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted.

Addie could swear she could see pride and self-satisfaction through Marianne’s eyes.

‘Now that Holden is staying,’ says Addie, ‘can the rest of us have some, too?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ replies Marianne, with a newfound spring in her step, grace in the way she moves. Drew laughs at her, quietly, and Addie finds herself laughing with him.

Marianne brings out the goulash and Addie helps pour it into the bowls, handing each of them one. The chef ends up taking Addie’s chair, on Addie’s insistence, because what does she deserve after all these hours other than enjoying her efforts in peace? So Addie leans on the counter, ignoring Marianne’s protests that it’s dirty (‘These shorts need to go into the wash anyway’) and savours the food. It’s unbelievably good – Drew even comments at one point that it’s as good as the one his Hungarian neighbour made, if not better. Marianne glows after each compliment, so Addie doesn’t really stop giving them. Even as the conversation goes on, and Holden stays a little longer than planned, they keep sprinkling in nice comments about the goulash whenever they can.

Addie’s glad Holden and Drew are here for this, however unplanned it was.

Holden slaps his thigh again, in the very same manner with the very same look on his face and this time, Addie catches herself right before she laughs. ‘I’ve really got to go now,’ he says, getting to his feet. ‘Work calls.’

He walks up to Addie and she smiles at him, elbowing him gently in the ribs. ‘That’s okay, Mr. Workaholic. We understand.’

She thinks maybe she’s pushing it, but Holden smiles and reaches the other side of her waist, tickling just enough so that she groans for him to stop. ‘You’ve got it just as bad as I do,’ he tells her, and she can’t argue.

‘Wait, Holden.’ Marianne twirls her spoon in front of her space, brow furrowed, and a distant look on her face. ‘Can I ask you lot a personal question?’

‘Marianne—’

‘Don’t worry about it, Addie. I won’t bother them too much.’

Marianne does give her a reassuring smile, or what’s meant to be one, because Addie doesn’t feel particularly reassured. The girl, for all the love Addie holds for her, really has a thing for pushing the limits and boundaries without meaning to. Addie sinks into herself, arms crossed on her chest with Holden’s hand still resting on her waist, and hopes Marianne picks her approach carefully. Addie might know her well enough, but Drew and Holden don’t.

‘Sure,’ says Drew, leaning back in his chair. ‘What is it?’

Instead of responding, he looks at Holden until he agrees to it, too. She takes a deep breath, then, and gives them the shaky kind of confident smile as her fingers fix up her bun. ‘How important are romantic things in a relationship to guys?’

Addie resists dropping her head in her hands. She just sighs. Glares a little.

Lets it all unfold.

The hand on Addie’s waist moves a little, with no purpose. She can hear Holden breathe more deeply, as he always does when he’s trying to crack a problem. Drew, on the other hand, frowns; his eyes stare out of the window, the distance noticeable in them. Part of Addie wishes the question was never asked – part of it is as glad that it wasn’t bad as it is honest that maybe, Addie is curious about the answers, too.

‘Probably shouldn’t ask Holden that while Addie’s around,’ jokes Drew.

‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

Drew looks at her and shrugs, a smile peeking through. (Addie found it a little bit funny and he can see it.) He sighs a little and scratches the place above his eyebrow, glancing at Marianne. ‘What kind of romantic things are we talking about?’

‘I don’t know.’ Marianne waves her hand in a vague motion, then lets it go back to fiddling with the bun. ‘Um, dates, quality time together, gifts or flowers or whatever, that romantic sappy kind of shite.’

‘It depends, then,’ Holden says, voice deep and laced in thought, just as Drew speaks with confidence, ‘Very important.’

Drew chuckles and Holden smiles, too, but Marianne doesn’t look very reassured, so Drew leans forward in the chair, placing his elbows on the table with his hands crossed. ‘Look, it depends on the guy, yeah, but most guys like the romantic stuff. Going on dates, getting flowers and chocolates, candlelit dinners and just spending quality time together is a big deal. Not having that is just kind of… I don’t know.’

Marianne nods. She’s looking at Drew as if she were soaking his words like a sponge, and not one that likes them.

‘I don’t really agree,’ says Holden, after letting out a little ‘hmmm’ sound. ‘I mean, it really depends on the guy, but also the partner. Look at Addie and I – we spend most of our time together at work, or doing work, and it’s something we love doing so the time we spend together doing that is what we’d consider quality time, right? And you don’t— We don’t need all that romantic stuff. If you know someone likes you, there’s no need to constantly show it. If it works already.’

Addie just stares at the ground. All eyes are on her, now, even if not physically – she can just feel the attention on her. Does she agree? Yes, for the most part, and it’s not her Marianne is asking this time. They’ve already spoken about this. Marianne knows Addie enjoys the approach she and Holden have with the relationship.

When she finally looks up, she catches Drew’s eyes for a moment, and then they’re gone before she can read them. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I guess it depends on your relationship and your boyfriend, then.’

‘My friend’s.’ Marianne nods with a smile that looks like it’s about to slip off. ‘I’m asking for a friend.’

Drew leans back. ‘Sure, yeah. I hope your friend manages to sort it out.’

Marianne thanks him, then makes a joke about the goulash being finger-licking, and within moments everything’s as if there wasn’t just a serious conversation. A little later, Addie walks Holden out, receiving a gentle kiss on the lips before he leaves. Drew sticks around for a little while longer and when Marianne invites Drew to their group’s annual Fourth of July party (very exclusive), Addie feels like it’s another unpredictable-Marianne moment she should’ve foreseen.

For better or worse, though, Drew shakes his head with a little sigh. ‘Thanks for the invitation, but I’ve already booked a flight home.’

‘Oh.’ Marianne nods, not even trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Shame. We throw the best parties around Atlanta.’

Drew chuckles, tugging his jacket sleeves over his arms. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second. I’ll catch one of them, at some point.’

‘Yeah. You should.’

Addie is leaning against the wall, watching them talk about their plans for the Fourth of July, and realises she’s happy that Holden’s met Drew. She’s happy he’s integrating into her friend group, at least bit by bit. It kind of makes everything more real; more permanent. Later, she finds out from Marianne that Drew messaged her, thanking her for the goulash experience. When she’s lying in bed, thinking about all the work she needs to do tomorrow because she slacked off today, a thought pops up: Marianne’s birthday is going to be soon, and that is bound to be a wholesome party.

Addie falls asleep with a smile on her face.

◇

19: THANKFUL

tagging. (let me know if you want to be tagged!) @jjmaybanksbaby @ofpinkfizz @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories @rafecameron

#phone swap series #drew starkey #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey fic #outer banks #obx

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cherryobx · 4 years

Text

Cell mate for the night//JJ Maybank x reader

requested?: yes honey “jj meeting the reader in a cell as she's being interrogated and smart mouthing the police n introducing her to the pogues? only if you have time don't rush yourself🥺”

A/N: i LOVE the idea but i hate the way i wrote it, i still hope you enjoy it

summary: JJ meets you in the weirdest way possible

warnings: a few curse words i think, grammar mistakes and bad writing, incorrect stuff (i don’t know anything about what goes down while interrogating lmao and i 100% know they don’t put 2 people in the same cell but oh well it’s for the sake of the story)

WC: 1416

NOT MY GIF!!!

Yet again, JJ found himself in a cell at the local police department. He had been there quite a few times but not at a late time like this. It was almost 12 a.m when he was brought in.

He was there for a pretty stupid reason. He got into a fight at a party and the police were called. The other dude was let go. He was a kook. They never got into serious trouble. But JJ was kept there for the night. He was lucky they didn’t call his dad.

But what JJ didn’t know is that he’d meet the love of his life that night.

You were caught vandalizing a boat. But you, of course, called it art.

“I was just drawing pretty pictures! You’re gonna put a teenager into jail for drawing?” You scoffed in the backseat of the police car, rolling your eyes.

“No, I’m not taking you to jail. And you were not drawing, we both know it. It’s called vandalism.”

When you arrived at the station he got you out of the car and held a firm grip on your hand as he pulled you through the building, making his way towards the cell.

“Aw, man! I have to share my cell? What a shame,” you commented as he unlocked the only cell that was in that room and slightly pushed you in. The blonde boy, already in the cell, was watching your interaction with the cop.

“Come on, Steve! I didn’t do anything serious,” you complain, leaning against the cell bars, looking at the cop.

“Let me out. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll even be your friend if you let me out. We’re already on first-name basis.”

“No, we are not, Y/L/N.” The cop was looking through the drawers. He was probably looking for your file.

“So it all meant nothing to you? How we met on the dock? How we held hands for the first time?”

“Y/L/N, we didn’t hold hands. I was dragging you here. Please, let me do my job and tell me everything you did today. And be honest.” He took a seat behind his table and pulled out a pen to write everything down.

“I already told you in the car. Do I need to repeat myself? You have trouble with your memory or something?”

“Y/N/L,” he said in a warning tone.

“What?” you innocently asked.

“Talk.”

“I am talking right now. We’re having a conversation. What else do you want?”

He sighed, looking down at the papers in front of him. You could tell he was already done with your bullshit.

JJ was watching the interaction between you and the cop, smirking. He didn’t even know you but he already liked you. Not only for your good looks but the way you were talking to the cop. You didn’t care that you might get into more trouble than you already were. He admired your personality.

“Y/N, this is your last warning. Talk.”

“Take off the handcuffs and then we’ll see,” you tried to compromise with him. To your luck, it worked.

After getting free from the restraints on your wrists, the cell was locked again and the cop took his seat once again.

“Now, tell me everything.”

“Well, I was in a spectacularly good mood today. I was feeling artsy, you know. And the boats looked really boring,” you explained, emphasizing on the word ‘really’.

“Go on.”’

“And then I decided to make them a little less boring. That’s it. There’s nothing really. So, when will I get out?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“You’re gonna leave a kid in a cell with a random stranger for the night?”

He got up from his seat and put the papers back in the drawer where he took them from in the first place.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, chief. I’ve always wanted to sleep on a cell floor. You’re fulfilling my dreams right now.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a loud thud.

“Ouch, a random stranger?” JJ asked as if he was hurt by your words.

“I said what I said,” you said, sitting down and leaning your back against the bars of the cell so you could face him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m JJ. And I just have to say, you’re really good at pissing people off. You got him off of your back in 2 minutes. I have been here for the last 2 hours, talking to him.”

“Well, JJ, what did you do to end up here on this fine night?”

“I got into a fight,” he answered.

“Ooh, a bad boy. What a rebel,” you sarcastically said, making him laugh.

“Are you new here? Cause I haven’t seen you around.”

“Oh, I’ve lived here my whole life. Most of the time I’m just doing my own thing.”

JJ patted the spot next to him on the so-called bed, silently telling you to go sit next to him. Well, it kind of resembled a bed.

“You’re gonna get sick if you sit on that cold concrete floor.”

“So nice of you to care about my health, stranger,” you chuckled and got up from the floor and joined him on the bed.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and let out a tired sigh. JJ leaned his head against yours and you sat in silence for a while. It was a beautiful sight, honestly.

You had known JJ for only some minutes but you felt sort of connected to him. Like you had known him for years instead of minutes. And that feeling made you comfortable around him. So comfortable that you fell asleep on his shoulder.

You woke up at the sound of a door slam, followed by a “Good morning, lovebirds!”

In the middle of the night, when you were sleeping JJ leaned against the wall behind him and placed your head on his lap so you could sleep more comfortably.

“Good morning, Steve! So nice of you to finally come back. I missed you.”

“Y/L/N, stop. It’s too early for that.”

The cop came over to the cell, taking out his keys and finally freeing you.

“Maybank, you’re free to go.” JJ just nodded and sent you a smile as a goodbye.

“Y/L/N, we have some unfinished business. I need you to sign these documents. I’ve contacted your parents about the fine.”

“Fine? What the fuck? These it’s not spraypaint, you dumbass. It can be washed off easily.”

“I know. And you’re going to be washing it off tomorrow morning.”

“Then why do I need to pay the fine?”

“Because.”

You huffed in annoyance and took up a pen from the table and signed the papers placed in front of you.

“You may go now.”

“Thanks, bestie, see you soon.” You waved at him as you walked out of there.

“Hopefully not,” he mumbled but you still heard.

“Ouch. I heard that, you prick.”

When you exited the police station JJ was waiting for you. He was sat on the stairs, his back turned to you.

“Waiting for someone, Maybank?” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him. He got up from the stairs, following you.

“Yeah, just this girl I met at a police station cell.”

“She must be amazing,” you jokingly said, flinging your hair over your shoulder.

“She is indeed. And I was wondering if she’d like to meet my friends? I feel like they’d like her.”

“Why do you think so.”

“Cause she’s really cool. I like her.”

“You do now, huh?” you asked, turning around and facing him, smirking.

“I do.”

“Then she’d love to meet your friends. Take her to the right now. She’s busy tomorrow. She has to wash the paint off of a boat tomorrow,” you said, still talking about yourself in third person point of view.

And he did take you to meet his friends. They really liked you, as JJ had expected. You became best friends with them and started hanging out with them every day.

A few weeks went by and you fell for JJ. You had already started liking him the night you met but as time passed, you really fell for him, and you fell hard.

Love strikes you at the weirdest times and in the weirdest places. And you were okay with it. You wouldn’t change anything about the way you met JJ.

taglist: @teamnick @www-imbored-com @delightfullynlove @prejudic3 @afterglows7b-tch13 @tomhardybby @ad-infinitums @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @ilovejjmaybank @mdlyncline @allycat449-blog @abbiesthings @teenwaywardasgardian @copper-boom @canibeoneofthepogues @fttayla @ifilwtmfc @bedazzledbanks @jeyramarie @joshy-obx @pink-meringues

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK!!!! (it helps me get better at writing)

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Note

Hi! I really really loveee your daddy!doyoung scenario with the clingy s/o 🥺 can i request for another one like this but the scenario is when doyoung punishes her bc he’s jealous and then afterwards the s/o gets all pouty and sulking, and then doyoung apologises to his little girl? 😣 it could be a little angsty + fluff. Omg so sorryy if i am too demanding :(

My head isn’t working properly at the moment so I’m sorry if this is too eye damaging 🤠 the reader might seem a lil dumb (she is kind of?) but I mean that’s part of the whole ddlg dynamic.

“Hey, where’s y/n?”

“I think she’s somewhere with Johnny.” Taeyong replies absentmindedly, focused on the video game he was currently playing.

Doyoung clenched his jaw as he looked around for you. He was about to open the bedroom door when you came out with Johnny behind you.

“Oh, hey Doie.” You smiled at him per usual.

“What’s going on here?” He was visibly mad at you.

Johnny placed his hand on your shoulder, nothing more than a friendly gesture. But Doyoung didn’t see it that way. Someone was touching his property.

“I needed advice on something, and y/n offered to talk somewhere private.”

“So this was all your idea?” You knew you were in big trouble by the way he looked at you.

“It isn’t what it looks like, Doie.” You tried to explain, but he was already on his way back to the living room.

He didn’t talk to neither of you for the rest of the evening, avoiding you in every single way. It wasn’t until his friends left that he finally spoke.

“Come here, now.” He was sitting on the brown, leather couch, his legs wide open as he used his pointer finger to tap his thigh.

“Doyoung-”

“What did you call me?” You’d almost forgotten that you were back to being daddy’s little girl.

“Daddy, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.” You begged as he unbuckled his belt.

“Did I ask?” He wasn’t even making eye contact. “I want you here, now.”

You obeyed, letting your shaky body rest over his muscular thighs. He was quick to get rid of your jeans and underwear, your round ass now completely exposed to his eyes.

“Daddy, please.” You begged as his hand kneaded the soft skin.

“You will only speak when spoken to, are we clear?” You nodded, tears threatening to escape your eyes. “I will not put up with this little bratty attitude of yours, now count.”

His belt impacted against your skin.

“One.” He kept going, reddening the skin with each spank he delivered.

You cried your eyes out as the pain started to take over your body, gripping his thighs tightly.

“Daddy, stop, please.” You cried out, reaching for his hands. “It hurts.”

“You know what hurts even more?” He held both of your wrists tightly with his right hand, while the other one resumed his movements. “Watching my little girl slutting around with one of my friends.”

“We were just talking.” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the burning pain on your ass.

“I don’t believe you. You’re just a desperate cum slut, aren’t you? Opening your legs for anyone.” He finally stopped. “Go to your room. You are not to go out until I say so.”

“Daddy, I didn’t do anything.” You tried explaining again as you got back on your feet.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.” His face was expressionless, as if he hadn’t just beaten the hell out of your ass.

“I hate you.” You mumbled before picking up your clothes from the floor.

You went back to your room with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. The first thing you did was applying some lotion on your affected area, letting it dry before carefully putting your pyjamas on. It wasn’t long before your tired eyes closed.

Doyoung remained seated on the couch, watching whatever Tv show was on, but not paying much attention to it, his mind busy thinking about the possibility of you cheating.

A phone call interrupted his thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Doyoung.” Johnny’s voice greeted him.

“What do you want?”

“Dude, I know you’re mad about what happened earlier, but as y/n said, nothing happened between us.”

“Bullshit.”

“She was helping me choose a gift for my mom.” A pit formed at the bottom of his stomach. “Her birthday is on next Friday and I haven’t found anything to give her. I told y/n about it and she offered to help me. That’s it.”

“Shit, John. I’m sorry.” He needed to apologize to you as soon as possible. “I need to go, good luck with your mom.” He pressed the red button on the screen and hung up.

He ran up to your room, finding himself in from of a locked door.

“Y/n?” There was no response. You were probably sleeping, tired from crying your eyes out just a few hours ago.

He walked to the kitchen, opening the drawer where you kept your keys and quickly grabbing the one he needed.

He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, scolding himself as he saw the little frown in your face.

“Baby?” He kneeled down in front of the mattress, directly facing your sleeping figure. “Wake up, baby.” You groaned.

“I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“Sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.” You pursed your lips and turned around. “You were mean.”

“At least let me take care of your wounds, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle.” His big hand rubbed your leg.

“I already did.” Doyoung sighed.

“What should I do for you to forgive me?” He swiftly positioned himself behind you, embracing your small frame tightly.

“Don’t hug me, my butt hurts.” You wiggled between his arms.

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry. Daddy made a mistake, can’t you forgive him?”

“No.”

“Not even if I get you those cute socks you wanted?” A small gasp left your mouth before you turned around to face him.

“The pink, fluffy ones?” Your hands cupped his cheeks as you squeaked excitedly.

He nodded, pecking your nose.

“We can get the yellow ones as well.”

“Consider yourself forgiven.” Your arms sneaked around his waist, burying your face in his chest.

“Such a sweet little girl.” He whispered as you drifted away once again.

#nct smut #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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amatchinwater · 3 years

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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lonestarbabe · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

[AO3]

T.K. wants to move in with Carlos, but he’s nervous it’s too soon and is afraid to ask. The 126 sets him straight.

Things with Carlos have been good, really good, which is why T.K. feels ready to take the next step in their relationship, but with everything with Alex, he’s afraid to bring it up. He knows that he gets too invested too quickly, and he doesn’t want to scare Carlos away and jeopardize their future just because he’s impatient to move in together.

He talks to Marjan about it first. Mostly because she makes a pointed comment about how Carlos has been dropping T.K. off a lot lately. “I think we should move in together,” T.K. tells her, “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“You practically live there anyway. You might as well save yourself the trouble of lugging your stuff back and forth.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that Carlos is ready for that.”

“Why wouldn’t he be? “

“It’s been less than a year.”

“Yeah, but in less than a year, you’ve been through more than most couples go through in a lifetime.”

“I don’t want to come on too strong.”

Marjan rolls her eyes, “Are you kidding me, dude?” She looks at T.K. like he’s the dumbest person on the planet.

“What’s that look for, Marj?”

“Carlos made you an elaborate romantic dinner before you were even dating.”

“Yeah, and you know how badly that went.”

“My point is that he’s not taking it slow. He invites your friends over just so we have a place to hang out.”

“You’re his friends too.”

“Yeah, now we are, but only because he dove right in and welcomed us into his home, even though he didn’t have to.”

“Because he’s a good person. He’d open his doors to anyone who needs a place.”

“You need a place, don’t you?” Marjan comments.

“I haven’t even met his parents yet.”

“Don’t overthink this. Carlos looks at you with heart eyes 24/7. And you should have seen him when you were shot. He was devastated. He sat with you for hours, so I don’t think he’d mind cohabitating.”

When he talks to Nancy about it, she seems her words echo Marjan’s. “Dude, don’t be an idiot.”

“Why is everyone calling me dude.” He shook his head. “You sound exactly like Marjan.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? Just ask him.”

“Would it be weird if I asked over text.”

“Are you afraid of your puppy-eyed boyfriend, Strand?” Tommy cuts in.

“No, I just don’t want to make things weird.”

Tommy speaks in her “mother” voice. “Then, don’t make things weird and talk to him.”

With all the words of advice, T.K. doesn’t feel any more decisive than he was to begin. The thought of bringing it up makes his throat dry and scratchy. He wouldn’t know how to pull the words into the air, even if he decided that it was right to say them. This decision isn’t one that he can take lightly. He doesn’t want to build a relationship on grand gestures and rush through things at the expense of their relationship. He wants things with Carlos to be different. “You never moved in with Alex,” Owen reminds him, and T.K. isn’t in the mood to take relationship advice from his dad because Owen’s recent track record with romance isn’t so good. (And yeah, maybe the mistakes of his parents are some of the things that make T.K. clam up when he thinks of navigating his relationship with Carlos).

T.K. doesn’t plan on bringing it up with anyone else, but Paul, Mateo, and Judd corner him unwittingly at the end of his shift. “You look conflicted,” Paul says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows. “You can’t possibly know that by looking at me.”

“Marjan told me that you’re nervous to move in with Carlos.”

“That’s not what it is. I’m nervous that Carlos will hate the idea.”

Mateo looks perplexed. “He already gave you a key to his apartment.”

“That’s for convenience. It doesn’t mean we’re ready to live together full time.”

“What would be so different?”

“Well nothing, but don’t you think we should wait until we’ve been in this relationship longer?”

“But what? When you know you know,” Judd says. “Time don’t matter when you’re in love. Just listen to your instincts.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I did that before and that went to hell.”

“You and Alex weren’t good for each other,” Paul says, “But it’s different with Carlos. You’re not asking him to marry you. You’re just asking to live together. Even if he’s not ready, it’s not going to be the end of your relationship.”

“He won’t say no,” Mateo reassures.

“Not if he’s smart,” Judd agrees.

By the end of the day, T.K. knows that the only person left to talk to is Carlos, and he’s still unsure if he’s going to do that. As he unlocks the door and slips into Carlos’ house, he feels his nerves twist in his stomach. Carlos is already there, starting dinner. “Hey,” T.K. says, and his voice is hoarse.

Carlos puts down the spoon, face changing at the tone of T.K.’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” T.K. says, and Carlos doesn’t look convinced. “Really, nothing at all. I just…” he trails off because he’s not ready to come out with the words.

“Just what?” Now Carlos sounds nervous, and this is not how T.K. envisioned this conversation happening.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”

“Is it serious?”

T.K. shrugs. It seems pretty serious, but maybe Carlos doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. They haven’t really talked about it before, and now, T.K.’s wondering if he should hint at moving in and talk about the potential before he talks about it in reality. “I don’t know?”

Carlos smiles fondly. “You don’t know?”

“It’s not bad, but it would be a change.”

“Don’t tell me you’re changing jobs again.”

“No, I think this one is it. It feels like me. We can talk about it after dinner. I don’t want to interrupt what you’ve got planned.”

“It’ll keep. You know me. I won’t be able to sit through dinner without knowing.”

“I love your curiosity. You’ll make a great detective someday.”

“You think?”

“I know,” T.K. says. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“Don’t try to divert my attention.”

“Babe, do you really think I’d do that?”

“You absolutely would.” Carlos gives a pleading look. “If it’s nothing bad, just let it out. The suspense is killing me.”

“I’m not sure how you’ll respond. I know you’ll be nice about it, but I don’t want to make things weird.”

“You’ve told me about your parent’s loud sex. If things were going to get weird, they would have by now.”

“That wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t live with that trauma alone.”

“I don’t blame you. That was wild. But things don’t have to be weird if we don’t make them weird.”

“I guess I should just ask.”

“Yeah, seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, so this is just something I’m wondering about. I don’t want you to feel pressure to say yes, and if you say no, I’m not going to blow up or be a headcase. I’ve made peace with either answer. So, um, yeah. Don’t let hurting my feelings impact your decision.” He can’t stop himself from talking, and all the words are flowing out of him before he can think about what he’s saying.

“Cariño, whatever it is, take a breath. It’s just me, and whatever it is, we’ll handle it as a team.”

“Yeah, about that, the teamwork. I like that we’re a team, and I think we can up our teamwork.”

“If you’re suggesting we join a bowling league or something, I’m game,” Carlos jokes.

“I don’t even know how to bowl, so no, that’s not the kind of teamwork I was thinking about. I was thinking more like living together.” T.K. immediately feels stupid for the suggestion, so he tries to backtrack. “It’s a dumb idea. I didn’t mean it like that. We don’t have to do it, like, now, but I just think it could be good. In the future or whatever.”

Carlos starts to laugh, and T.K. isn’t sure what to make of that response. Of all the scenarios he created in his head, that wasn’t one of them.

“What’s so funny?”

Carlos leans over to kiss T.K. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I just don’t want to ruin things.”

“I’ve been hinting about moving in together for weeks, T.K.”

“What? When?”

“I kept saying about how nice it would be if we could spend more nights together. I told you that you could have more than just a couple drawers. I gave your eight million vitamins a special place.”

“You could have just said something.”

“I was trying to get you used to the idea so you didn’t panic.”

“The only thing I panicked about was having to ask.”

“You had nothing to worry about.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

T.K. gives Carlos an impatient look, “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“I’m thinking about all your hoodies and the way you just throw your stuff around.”

“Small consolations for having someone to come home to.”

“Coming home. I like that sound of that.”

“You’re a jerk for dragging this out.”

“I’m a jerk you’ll be living with.

“And those no jerk I’d rather come home to.”

#text #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #My writing #Elise Writes #My Fics #1000 - 3000 words

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morbidanthem · 4 years

Text

-> Prompt HERE <- By: @otpprompts

(( A/N: Here is the other part, again, I’m trying to clear out my Google Docs. I will probably upload this to my AO3... maybe. IDK yet. ))

Continuity - Boku no Hero Academia

Character(s) - Mirio Togata, Fem!Reader, Shouta Aizawa Parring - Fem!Reader/Mirio Togata Genre - Fluffy Rating - M for Mature Warning - Cursing, Implied Heavy Petting

Word Count - 2,183

➡️ [ Izuku Midoriya Ver. Here ] ⬅️

✏️Written 06/13/20 - ??/??/20✏️

Mirio Togata

“Oi, there is a surprise Dorm Inspection in Five Minutes!” You heard a loud feminine voice shout, it was coming from right outside of your dorm room door, and you took notice that they hadn't even bothered to knock on the door.

You ignored the shouting though, as the sound was nothing more than an annoying muffle that was easily tuned out.

No...

You were too focused on what was going on on top of you to really care about what the voices in the hallway were screeching to you.

The one and only boy scout, Mirio Togata, had you pinned hard to your mattress while his strong hands gripping your wrists above your head as you whimpered under him in submission.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to the voices in the hallway either, as he groaned into your mouth at the warm feeling he was experiencing in his core, as you began to defy his display of dominance by sliding your tounge around his to try and wrestle the control he had over you.

You wanted to break free from the grip he had on your wrists, but even without his quirk, he was still able to over power you with his physical strength.

It drove you wild, as you felt a shiver jolt down your entire body and through your spine.

It was pure ecstasy.

Moments like these were so few and far in between… you don't think you'll ever get your fill of Mirio Togata.

“Hey! You and your Boy Toy need to throw some clothes on and separate before the Teachers or Class Rep. catches you!” The snickering singsong voice shouted again, this time banging loudly on the locked door.

You grunted uncomfortably as he pulled away from your lips a little too quickly, causing a small pop to reverberate through the room from the sheer force of separation between the two of you.

"Ugh, OK! Thank you, Nini!" You shouted in response, as Mirio looked down at you with a quizzical expression on his face.

You couldn't help but memorize the flush on his face so deliciously mixed with the color of his slightly swollen lips.

"This boy will be the death of me."

"Didn't we just have a Dorm Inspection last week?" Mirio asked, moving to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, while he began to sit up straight. He was still straddling your hips, as you both strain to listen to the incoherent yelling that was going on through the door.

'Dude! Help me hide my stash!'

'Does anyone remember if we were allowed to have snacks in our rooms or not?'

'Ok, but how much trouble will I get if my room is trashed?'

"You have enough time to fix your room, right?" You asked, as you tapped Mirio's thigh to get his attention back onto you.

"Yeah, besides some dirty laundry on the floor, I'm good." He smiled, shifting his weight off of you, so that he was sitting next to you. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, watching Mirio trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind.

"I wonder why they keep doing inspections so frequently like this..." He hummed loudly, placing a hand on his chin, with a very cute thoughtful look on his face.

"Probably because of me." You sighed, stretching your legs as you stood up.

How long had you two been "napping'' anyway?

An hour?

Who knows.

"What?" Mirio asked, watching you with so much interest in his gaze, as you began to clean your ruffled aperance.

You casually tried to smooth out the wrinkles on your tank top, and shifted your lounge pants so that they sat on your hips once more, instead of down past your thighs… When has he had time to pull your pants down?

"Haru is absolutely hellbent on catching me doing something wrong." You spoke, with a very nonchalant tone to your voice, while you turned to help fix Mirio's disheveled appearance as well. "He hasn't forgiven me 'ruining' his chance to date you, you know."

You could have sworn you've had this conversation with him, but judging by the surprised expression on his face, you've probably forgotten to mention it.

"No! I didn't know that!" He replied, shocked, as you ran your fingers through his hair to try and brush out the knots that had formed in it earlier.

"Huh, it must've slipped my mind,I forgot to tell you that part." You laughed, sending him a cheeky smile as you continued. "He has a huge crush on you, and is mad at me because, because I quote- 'dug my claws into your heart and refused to let go'."

"That's… there is a lot to unpack here…" He mumbled, turning his gaze to look at the floor.

God, when he is all distracted in thought like that, you would have loved to just grab the back of his head and pull him in close until your lips swallowed his in another passionate kiss… but, getting any more intimate can cause the clean-up to take a lot more time than the Five Minute warning you just got.

Good thing the two of you didn't get very far in that time.

Because, you honesty might not have been able to stop had he gotten your pants further down your hip.

"God, Mirio, you really are oblivious." You laughed out loud, as you brought yourself back to reality, by standing in front of him and smoothing out the wrinkles on his short.

Instinctively, he placed his hands on your hips, as you continued to grooming him while he sat on your bed. He couldn't help but huff at your words though, a cute pout replacing his once quizzical expression, as he turned his face up to look into your eyes.

You can see he had questions he wanted to ask, as that curious glint never left his gaze.

You don't have time, really, you don't have time to stand here and fix his appearance either… but you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself when you were around him.

"Wait… So what does calling a surprise inspection have to do with you, though?" He asked, pulling you into a hug, as you giggled and patted at the back of his shoulders.

"I am offended right now, I can't believe you forget about El Perro!" You spoke in a dramatic tone, a mock hurt present in your voice as you couldn't help but tease him. "Dios Mio! I am hurt! Hurt on El Perro's behalf." You laughed as you felt Mirio's shoulder shake under your grip, as he began to chuckle as well.

"I did, actually. He is so quiet that I forget he lives in here too." He said, turning his head to look at your closed closet door, with his trademark smile back on his face.

"That's how I've gotten away with having him for so long. Not even my Mom knew I had him, she would have kicked my ass if she ever found out." You chuckled, as you pulled away from Mirio's grasp, to meander over to softly pull your closet door open.

There he was, El Perro, the infamous Black and Tan Teacup Chihuahua.

The dog himself was no bigger than 2 pounds, and could easily fit in the palm of your hands. He was a short hair, and had the cutest bug eyes you've ever laid your eyes on.

He wagged his tail happily, as you went and picked him up off of his pillow, to hold him against your chest, as his tail wagged happily at the affection you were showing him. Your fingers caressed through his long soft fur, as he begins to pant as his tail wags harder.

You cooed at him, saying how cute he was, as you handed him off to Mirio so that you can go through the routine of hiding the evidence the dog leavea behind.

You heard Mirio laughing in the background, as you went to work by hiding the dog's bed and food dishes that were on a small dresser in your closet.

You began by unceremoniously shoving his bed and blankets into a large pillow case, quickly shaping it to make it look like a rather terribly lumpy pillow. But that was the whole plan though, as when the teacher looked into your closet, they would just assume that it was shoved in the closet because it was uncomfortable to sleep with.

His food was already hidden in a cereal box that you had, it was cleverly placed next to other various snack foods that you were allowed to keep in your dorm for midnight snacking. His water bowl was collapsed, and was easily clipped to your backpack that was hanging up next to your clothes, so it looked like something that you would use for hiking.

You were an expert at this by now, and if your Mother was never able to catch you, then it was far beyond the reach of the nosey Class Representative and his gaggle of teachers.

Five minutes... two minutes after your messing around was done, was more than enough time to hide the evidence that you had a dog in the dorms.

The final piece to complete your charade, was a baggy black sweater that you slipped on over your tank top, just as there was a loyd knock on your door.

"Hey, it's inspection time, open up." You heard a bored voice speak, as you quickly took the dog from Mirio's hands, and gently slid him into the pocket of your sweater.

El Perro was used to being in your pockets, so it took him no time to settle and be still, as you placed your arms through the pocket of your sweater as the teacher walked in.

"Aizawa? You're inspecting the 3rd Year Dorms?" You blurted out in shock, as you unlocked and opened the door to let the tired looking teacher into your room.

He always seemed to have bad bags under his eyes.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Your Teacher is off, having an exciting weekend…" He mumbled flatly, as you and Mirio stood off to the side as he began his inspection by opening up the drawers to your dresser.

He really looked tired, more so than usual, which made him not really inspect much of anything.

You could tell he just wanted to get this over with, as his eyes lazily roam around the room.

"You're not off having an exciting weekend as well?" You chided, as he slid the closet door open, while he scanned the small nook.

He didn't answer your sarcastic question.

He didn't even really acknowledge you'd actually said anything.

He also didn't say anything about all the snacks you had stashed in there… but, he probably didn't really care about that.

That isn't what he was looking for.

"Your Class Rep. wanted to call an emergency search. He was convinced I would find something amiss in here." Aizawa mumbled, mostly to himself, as he slid the door shut slowly as he turned to face the two of you. "What did you do to the poor kid?"

"M-Me? C'mon Aizawa, I didn't do anything..." You muttered, flabbergasted he would accuse you of anything, as you gave El Perro a little squeeze in your pocket.

"Right." He said, rolling his eyes at your feigned ignorance. "Just make sure you're behaving in here, no… after hour dorm visits."

"Of course!" You laughed loudly, spoke a little too quickly, and if you were to ask Aizawa's opinion he would look further into why you both had the door locked before he came… but he had so many more dorms to check that day, he just nodded and walked out. "Your Dorm Check is coming up soon, Togata, you should head over there now so I don't have to wait for you."

"Right! I'll be there!" Mirio said, watching Aizawa turn and leave the room, as he intentionally left the door wide open.

"Why does everyone think I'm the instigator?" You huffed with a scowl on your face, as you turned to face Mirio, who had a big smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You laughed, his smile infectious, as you pushed him on his chest lightly.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how much of an instigator you are." He laughed too, as you playfully slapped him across the chest.

"Tch, whatever!' You tutted, as you tried to push him out of your dorm.

He barely budged.

"Go away, Lemillion, lest you fail your dorm check for making Aizawa wait."

He just laughed again as he turned to leave your room, but not without giving you his trademark goofy smile and a small wave.

You waved back, as you watched him disappear out into the hallway.

'Girl, that boy is going to get you into trouble if you're not careful.' You thought to yourself, as you closed the door as you went back into your dorm.

#Boku no Hero Academia #Mirio Togata #Drabble #Fluffy #Mirio Togata X Reader #BNHA X Reader #Mirio Togata/Reader #BNHA/Reader #Long Post

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deejadabbles · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff. “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

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bunnyramen · 4 years

Text

I just would like to give a big Happy Birthday to @kalofi , shes officially an old woman we shall plan accordingly on which nursing home you have to go to.

All jokes aside, it’s a been good year as your friend and uh. I hope you like this! Happy birthday!!💕💕

——-

A figure rose up out of a bed that wasn’t his own.

Josuke didn’t sleep on a bed covered in a queen bed spread, his was Prince and the under sheet was purple.

“What the hell?” That wasn’t his voice either, it was a bit lighter than his own but still had a sort of gruffness to it.

He looked at his hands and noticed they were smaller than his longer piano fingers, and covered a bit more scars than his own.

Josuke looked around the room with eyes that also weren’t his own, well eye since one seemed to be blind.

There were some Bruce Lee, Prince, Queen, Elton John and Selena posters hung around the room.

And despite the gaudy curtain and muscle clock, whoever this was had some taste.

He pulled the covers off of someone and someones feet touched soft carpet, rising out of someone’s bed.

God, was this what it was like to not be 6 feet tall? Small like Koichi?

He touched at the hair framing his face, some of it white and some of it a bright red.

And he ran a tongue over the teeth in his mouth.

They were razor sharp!

“What the fuck?!” A voice screamed and the wall next to him was punched, telling him to shut up.

He didn’t recognize the voice.

Ok, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Speaking of attack, was this the work of a stand?

Where was the bastard? He had to neutralize him before he did some serious damage to Morioh!

But he couldn’t go anywhere in pajamas that weren’t his.

He went over to where presumed the clothes were, the dresser that had a boom box and plenty of boxes of tapes next to it.

He opened the first drawer and grabbed a white t-shirt with green accents.

He looked up on the wall and saw a picture on the wall, one of the kids in it was presumably the body he was inhabiting, judging by the hair and teeth.

Next to him was a angry blonde kid, who kind of looked like he got hit in the face with a hot shovel by his standards.

Maybe it was just the really ugly face he was making.

Luckily they were wearing school outfits, so he was able to figure out what he was supposed to normally wear.

A pair of green pants came onto his body next, a belt then a pair of purple socks.

He looked near the small closet in the room, seeing a pair of red Velcro shoes in front of them.

He figured it was time to brush his teeth and wash his face, and see what the hair situation was like,

He saw a large jar of hair gel sitting on the desk next to the bed and he grabbed it.

“Thank god, I didn’t wanna walk around with this hair all day.” His-er the kids inner voice said.

This was going to be weird since not only was his mom not here but there seemed to be more than one person on this floor.

Was he in a apartment or something?

Or some kind of dorm?

While he was thinking, he located the placement of a face towel and pulled a toothbrush from the boxes and boxes of toothbrushes in the kid’s closet.

He opened the door, peeking out into the hallway and seeing an empty get colorful looking ceiling and flooring.

He closed the door behind himself, thankful that he could be on his own while his mind was racing about where the fuck he was and who the fuck he was.

He went down the hall and got to an elevator.

“Must be some rich kid school or something.” He pushed the button for the second to last floor, figuring that was where the bathroom was.

Hopefully.

——

After asking another person than the original 2 he asked (that seemed to wanna chit chat), he finally located the bathroom.

He got in front of a mirror and finally got to see what the hell was he was working with.

He had to admit, the guy he was pretty handsome, at least he wasn’t stuck in someone ugly.

Like that Guy with that surface stand.

Or that little purple dude that he came across that kept chatting up with the girls in a gross way, he socked him one good with some kind of rock hand on his way here.

And it was weird since Crazy Diamond didn’t show up to punch the fucker for him.

Anyways, he did his hair in his usual pompadour, pretty much a second nature that it he got it done in less than 3 minutes.

While he waited for it to dry, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, having to periodically spit out bristles since they kept coming out when he gave these teeth a full cleaning.

He walked out of the bathroom but held the door open for some kid with a lightning bolt in his head since he was coming while he was trying to walk out.

“Woah! Trying a new look, Kirishima?” A pink girl with black eyes asked and he’d almost mistaken her for some kind of alien stand user but he didn’t sense anything from her.

“Uh haha, yeah! I’ll catch you later, Pink girl.” He laughed awkwardly, patting her on the back before he started to walk away.

He seems to be walking through a dining room, judging by the multiple people eating cereal.

God, he really missed his mom right now. He wondered what the other kid was like towards her. He hoped he got switched with someone nice.

“Your hair looks even more shitty than usual.” A low voice said from the end of the table he was walking past.

He looked to see the kid in the picture, hot shovel face.

“The fuck did you say about my hair?” A fire lit in his gut but it was pure hot red anger from himself , instead of the anger from him and his stand combined.

Bakugo took that as him not hearing what he said, so he said it again.

And that really set in stone was this body was about to do to him.

He punch him directly in the face, knocking over the cereal that was balancing in his spoon and ignored the gasps of the bystanders.

He would’ve went back for another but he was being pulled away by this really tall dorky guy.

He admitted to himself that the guy was pretty handsome.

“Eijirou, what has gotten into you?!” He pulled him away further as the blonde stood up with anger written all over his face.

“No one insults the hair of the man that saved me! No fucking one!” He tried pulling away from the nerdy dude but boy was he strong.

The lighting bold guy seemed to have to hold the other dude back from trying to let off some kind of explosion near him.

“Who saves you?” Mina looked confused.

“Look, My name is Josuke and that hot shovel faced asshole insulted the hair of the person that saved my life!”

“Josuke? Wait hold on, you’re saying your not Kirishima Eijirou.”

“No! I got switched with him by some kind of stand user or something! Now let me go so I can pummel him!”

“A stand?” Mina looked at him weirdly.

“Fuck.” He was hoping this “Kirishima” kid wasn’t doing anything weird with his body or messing up anything.

——

“So this is what it’s like to be tall!” Kirishima ran down the stairs of a house he didn’t at all recognize and was greeted by a rather tall purple haired woman when he reached the kitchen he presumed.

Maybe tallness ran in the family.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He waved at her nervously, not sure of who the woman was or who’s body he was in.

The lady picked up a knife, holding it towards Kirishima threateningly, the boy backing away.

“Who are you and where is my baby?” She said darkly, the knife glinting in the light.

“Huh?”

“Josuke never calls me ma’am. And he never comes down those stairs with his hair undone unless it’s a weekend.” The knife was getting dangerously close to his neck.

“I’m sorry but I’m not your son. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, and I’ve switched bodies with him, I think? I don’t what’s going on or who you are.” Either this Josuke kid could sweat a lot, or his sweat glands got transferred to this body.

“Switched? But where’s my baby?” She wasn’t holding the knife to his neck anymore but she still looked prepared to slice and dice him.

“I think he’s in my body. This could be the work of a quirk user or something, I’m not too sure.”

The lady fainted suddenly, the knife coming out of her hand and clattering to her floor.

“Oh fuck!” He was about to approach her to try and see if she was ok but a new figure bursted in, the door being unlocked by an outside force, probably a key.

“Josuke?” The new comer asked, his eyes shiny as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! She fainted, and I don’t know what’s going on!” God, was everyone the type to fight first and ask questions later here?

The guy came over in a few strides and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the motion alerting this really big pink guy that smelled oddly like strawberries.

“Crazy D, you know who this guy is?” The guy was really strong or something since he just shook him like a limp rag doll.

‘Crazy D’ looked at him with a weird glare, and the guy shook his head, shrugging with a confused “Dora.”

“What is that?” He pointed behind the guy, The Hand having been summoned at the mention of Crazy D.

“You’d know that if you were Josuke, and so since I don’t wanna cave my own boyfriends face in without giving whoever you are a chance, you got five seconds.” The guy robot he summoned looked ready to slice him in half too.

Normally, Kirishima would fight back but since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what he was working with in terms of fighting back, he decided to bitch out just this once.

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I go to U.A, Im from Musustafa, I’m 16 years old, and my quirk is Hardening!” He flinched away when he felt that his explanation wasn’t good enough, but the punch didn’t come.

The guy let go of his collar.

“Alright, a stand user trying to actively kill us wouldn’t give himself away like that but I swear to god if you try anything funny, you’ll be having a talk with the hand.” The boy glared at him, making sure that hand thing was on stand by.

While the guy helped Tomoko onto the couch, Kirishima went to the nearest phone and dialed the number in.

There were a couple rings before he heard an energetic ‘Present Mic speaking!”

“Daddi-o!”

“Eijirou?”

“Yes!”

“Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m in this Josuke kid’s house and I have like no idea where I am!”

“You’re in Morioh.” The guy said from the couch, where he was helping Tomoko wake up.

“This guy said I’m in Morioh!”

“My names Okoyasu.”

“I’m with Okoyasu. Luckily, he let me speak before he tried icing me out.”

“At least we’re know you’re safe! The kid in your body, his name is Josuke and he’s actually a pretty nice kid when he stopped trying kill Bakugou. Something about his hair, it’s actually pretty cool, you should see it-”

There was a struggle over the phone and a brief ‘hey!’ Before he recognized his dad’s tired voice being put on the phone.

“We captured the villain. Luckily it wasn’t what this Josuke kid calls a ‘stand user’ otherwise it’d be up to you and you’re not able to control his stand.”

“Thank goodness. Dad, How soon can I get my body back?”

“Well, actually the quirk only lasts for a few hours and it should end right about now. Brace yourself.”

Kirishima dropped the phone from his hand and blacked out, he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

“Hey, Kirishima!” He felt someone patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

He blinked his eyes, a blurry vision of pink and yellow coming into view.

“If your really Kirishima finish this phrase.” Sero said from above him, he could presume he was probably on the ground right now.

“Precisely.“ Kaminari started, Kirishima’s eyes lighting up.

“Damn, I’m late for school!” He sat up, actually seeing that the arms he was fist pumping were his and the friends he was looking at were his.

“Woah, hold the phone!” He looked up at his forehead and saw something blocking his view. “What is this?” Kirishima grabbed his pocket mirror, because he’s he owned a pocket mirror for just such occasions of keeping his spikes in order.

But it wasn’t spikes.

It was a pompadour.

“Yo Daddi-o, can I borrow your phone?” Kirishima asked Present Mic after his friends helped him off the floor and into a chair.

He called the last number, and it rung for a second before a voice he recognized answered the phone.

“Tomoko speaking?”

“Hello Mrs. Tomoko, I’m the kid your son switched bodies with. Sorry for the uh..trouble.” The redhead coughed.

“No trouble at all, as long as I have my son back in his rightful place and you back in yours. Would you like to talk to him? He says he’d very much like to talk to you.”

Kirishima heard Josuke whine to his mom to stop embarrassing him.

“Hello?”

——-

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement

Matt Simmons x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of choking, fingering, mild degradation, making out

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Based on this request, this one and this one too! Thank you darlings for these ideas!

*Bolded italics are flashbacks*

------

You and Matt had been friends since he joined the IRT. You didn’t get to see each other very often other than that one case you guys had in Barbados together. The two of you have always been close, he was best friend even though you barely saw each other.

After that case, everyone went out for drinks and dinner. The two of you traded flirty glances all night and when he pulled you to dance, which you found strange because he wasn’t much of a dancer. You ended up back in bed with him, it didn’t surprise you but it didn’t exactly go as planned either.

You hadn’t seen him since that night, you left before he woke up because you had an early flight. You’ve had a few late night phone calls and texts but other than that, nothing.

When Matt was reassigned to the BAU, you became attached at the hip. Everything that he did, you were there with him and vice versa. The two of you were still single and clearly into each other, so hence begins the arrangement.

---

The two of you were sitting in his apartment, he asked you to come over and help him unpack. He had just bought a new apartment and with all the traveling, he had barely unpacked and he couldn't keep living out of boxes.

The two of you were taking a break, he had ordered pizza for dinner. You were currently on the couch, Matt was on the floor between your legs. His head rested on your inner thigh as he watched some movie that was on TV. Running your hands through his hair, he hummed.

“I’ve missed you”

“Missed you too Matt”

He turned around to face you, his head still on your thigh. You smiled at him while he kissed your inner thigh.

“Hold on babe”

“What?” he looked up at you. “If we’re going to keep doing this, we need to talk about something” He waited for you to talk.

“One, no sleeping with other people, simply because of the fact that I don't want a std from whoever you hooked up with.” he laughed but nodded. “Two, if you find someone or if I find someone, we end this. No hard feelings and we’ll still be friends ?”

“Yeah, of course angel” You smiled at the nickname.

“Anything you want to add?”

He pushed you back on the couch, getting on top of you. His hand wrapped itself around your throat squeezing slightly, your breath hitched as a smile washed across your face

“You’re mine and only mine.”

------

Emily had called in the team early one morning because a case had come in. Everyone seemed like they had just rolled out of bed and showed up except Penelope and Rossi, the two of them were always dressed for an emergency fashion show.

Emily and Penelope explained to the team that a family had been kidnapped in North Carolina. She was going over the details when you felt a hand on your thigh. You were wearing a skirt that you had found and honestly, it wasn't your choice in work clothing but it was the first thing you found.

You glanced at Matt who sat beside you and had a smile on his face as his hand slowly made its way up your thigh. Your hand rested on his to stop him but he didn’t, making you shift in your seat.

“y/n are you okay?” Luke asked you from across the table,

you nodded “just a cramp in my leg, I'll be alright”

Rossi and Spencer were talking about if this unsub was a family annihilator or if there’s a different motive behind this kidnapping. Matt’s hand slides under your skirt, his fingers brushing against your panties. You give him a warning look but he slides a finger in you anyways.

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from moaning as Matt curls his finger. You grab his hand, squeezing his wrist and giving him a look, practically begging him to stop until you can be alone with him.

For some reason, probably because Emily asked him to help Garcia with something, he let you go. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Are you sure you’re okay y/n?” Luke asked you once more

“Oh yeah, I think I pulled something working out and I've been getting cramps all morning” he looked like he didn’t believe you but he dropped it.

---

The case had taken you guys a little less than a week to solve. The unsub had kidnapped one more family but you took him into custody alive, you had some peace of mind knowing he’d spend the rest of his life in jail for what he did.

You were now on the jet counting the hours until you could be back in your bed. You somehow got stuck sharing a room with Matt and Luke, it would have been weird if you and Matt shared a bed only for Luke to wake up and see you cuddling so Matt shared with Luke instead. Matt did like to cuddle regardless of who it was, so you now had a few pictures of Matt and Luke cuddling which you totally didn’t and by totally didn’t, you 100% did send to Garcia.

Matt sat beside you, everyone was either asleep or too busy doing something to even notice the two of you. “Hey princess” he whispered as he fixed the blanket so it was over the both of you.

You hummed, too tired to talk and rested your head on his shoulder. “I missed this, cuddling with Luke isn't the same” he whispered, making you chuckle, you shifted closer to him as you basically ended up half way onto him. Your arm was stretched over his lap, your hand right above his dick.

“Don’t” he gave you a warning look, you ignored him rubbing your palm against his dick. He let out a little groan, his head leaning back against his seat. He moved your hand only for you to put it right back, slipping them into his pants.

Your hand just rested there, not moving, not doing anything. He looked over at you.

“Seriously ?”

“Hm? Is there an issue agent?”

“Oh no issue baby, just wait until we get home and I deal with you. You can’t go without it huh?” he chuckled, you looked at him

“Without what?” you asked

“Without touching me. Without being a needy little slut” he whispered in your ear making you blush and squeeze your thighs together.

“That’s what I thought.”

----

A few weeks later and you guys finally had a paperwork day, you’re all just minding your business and doing your own thing. You were typing up a report when your phone buzzed. You picked it up to see a notification from Matt, you opened it to see a shirtless picture he probably had taken earlier in the day. The longer you looked at the picture, the more you realize that it wasn’t taken at home, but in the bathroom at the BAU.

To Matt: Stop being horny and go back to work

From Matt: Don’t tell me that you didn’t like that ;)

You chuckled, looking up to see that no one was paying attention to you. Everyone was doing their own thing so you sent back a quick reply before turning off your phone

To Matt: never said I didn’t, but I know exactly what you like.

You turned back to your paperwork, only getting a few lines into it before your phone buzzed again. Spencer looked over at you, “you’re popular today” he smiled making you chuckle.

“Hm, yeah it’s my cousin” You felt bad lying to Spencer but you couldn't tell him about your secret workplace lover even though you knew he’d keep it a secret.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked Spencer as you got up, he nodded. You walked over to the coffee machine, Matt walked back into the bullpen. He smiled at you as he walked past you, you smiled back and turned your attention back to the coffee machine.

A few minutes passed and you walked back to your desk, Matt passing by you again, flashing you a smile as he walked past.

You set Spencer’s mug on his desk, “there you go doc” he smiled at you and took a sip. You made sure to make his with 98% sugar and 2% coffee. “Just the way I like it, thank you y/n” you smiled at him as you sat down “you’re welcome” There was a bright pink piece of paper folded on top of your files when you got back to your desk, you picked it up and opened it.

“Meet me in the office in 10″

Matt scribbled onto the first thing he could find, you figured he probably went to visit Garcia and took a piece from her.

“Spence?” you looked up at him,

“Yeah?” he mumbled, not looking up from his book.

“If anyone asks where I am, tell them I've gone to the bathroom. Okay ?” you slipped the piece of pink paper into your desk drawer before getting up.

“Okay” Spencer mumbled again before going back to his book.

You walked out and headed towards Derek’s office, the lights were off but the door was unlocked. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, a pair of hands grabbed your waist and pushed you up against the door. You gasped when you felt his hands on you, you knew he was in there but you didn’t expect him to scare you.

“Dude, seriously ? You can’t turn on the lights like a normal person?” you asked him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hi angel” he kissed down the side of your neck, his hands slid up your side and moved to the front of your shirt to unbutton it.

“Whatcha doing ?” you asked him,

“Nothing really” his lips moved towards your chest, kissing and sucking as he went. You knew you’d be covered in hickeys by time he’d done but you could care less.

Matt’s arms were around your waist, he guided you over to the couch. The two of you had been in Derek’s office enough that you knew it like the back of your hand. You kind of felt bad using his office, he was like a brother to you and you knew his office was Penelope’s little space but it was the only office outside of the bullpen with a couch and a lock on the door. Derek had came to visit once, you bumped into him moments after you had stepped out his office

---

You were walking back towards the bullpen, you were fixing your shirt, shifting it back to its original position. Derek was standing in the hallway talking to Spencer, you weren’t expecting him to come by today and it caught you by surprise.

“Hey D!” you walked over to give him a hug, his hugs were the best.

“Hey mama, I missed you” he smiled at you,

“Awe I missed you too, what are you doing here? Isn’t there a lil man that requires your attention at home?”

He chuckled, “he’s actually here, Penelope whisked him away to her office so I went to find pretty boy” he ruffled Spencer’s hair. “He’s more like bothering me” Spencer mumbled, trying to fix his hair.

“I came to pick up something from my office actually. Babygirl forgot to put it in the box with my stuff” he explained to you

“Oh” you nodded, you causally pulled out your phone and texted Matt, telling him to make sure everything to spick and span because Derek was here.

“I’ll see you two around, I've got to pick up Savannah soon” He hugged Spencer goodbye before he hugged you

“Tell her I said hi and give Hank a kiss for me” You smiled at him before letting him go.

---

Someone pulled on the door knob, you and Matt ignored it. You pulled him closer, it was impossible to be any closer but either way you still did. You were on his lap, straddling him and his hands on the back on your thighs. The two of you found yourselves in this position very often, clothes thrown all over the floor, making out on the couch like teenagers. Usually whoever was at the door left after a minute or two.

Today was different.

The last thing you expected was Penelope to walk in, with Derek.

She flipped the light switch and gasped, “Oh! Guys, I- uh- oh my god I'm sorry” She pushed Derek out, who was laughing and pulled the door shut behind them. Matt looked at you, the door and then back to you before he started laughing. You could help but laugh too.

“Okay, stop it’s not funny” you got off his lap to get dressed while you tried not to laugh.

“It’s funny angel, I can tell you wanna laugh” he chuckled pulling on his shirt. You shook your head and fixed your hair before stepping out.

“Penny, D” you smiled at them, Derek chuckled while Penelope just nodded.

“Sorry if we traumatized you” Matt told them, although it was directed more towards Penelope rather than Derek.

“How long has this been going on ?” Penelope asked you guys

“And why my office ? Use Emily’s or Rossi’s” Derek laughed.

“Since Matt joined the BAU and a little bit before that” you told them,

Penelope’s eyes went wide. “What?! Matt’s been there for a year and a half!” she shouted, Matt nodded. Now that Penelope knew, you knew the secret wouldn't last long.

There goes your secret arrangement.

#matt simmons #ssa matt simmons #matt simmons smut #matt simmons x reader #matt simmons x you #matt simmons x y/n #matt simmons oneshot #matt simmons imagine #matt simmons imagines #cm #cm smut #cm imagine #cm imagines #cm oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds oneshot

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quiet-onset · 4 years

Text

In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure.

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself.

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window.

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun.

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind.

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.”

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost.

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.”

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon.

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up.

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other.

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces.

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded.

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you.

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless.

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only.

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower.

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up.

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday.

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him.

And received no answer.

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery.

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat.

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table.

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say.

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you.

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad.

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy.

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace.

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp.

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could.

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers angst #angsty af #no one ever let me write a single fic this long ever again

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bubbl3sworld · 4 years

Text

The hardware store (Belch Huggins x black! reader)

“Y/n!!”

She groaned hearing her name get shouted through the house, it was her second day spending the night at cousin Mike house, or farm rather. And so far, she hated it. She slip the covers over her face, trying to ignore her grandfather shouting her name. Just when he stopped, footsteps were heard leading up to the room she was sleeping in. She balled herself up further in the bed, hoping for no one to come into her only safe space.

It wasn’t until the door creaked open was her cover blown

“I know you’re up Cuzzo” It was Mike, you could tell by his voice.

Y/n removed the covers, sitting up slowly. Her eyes dragged up to his face, giving him an annoyed stare. “What does that man want now?” She asked reaching to fix her bonnet only to feel that it wasn’t on her head.

“It’s on the floor” Mike points out smiling, “He wants you to go get some things from the hardware store since you can drive” She leaned over to pick up her {color} bonnet. “Mike you don’t got no friends to take you? Back home I always got a ride somewhere” She shakes off the bonnet before putting it on the dresser. “That’s what happens when your home schooled” She rolled her eyes, ‘It’s not my problem he’s a loner’ She thought

“Well, it sounds to me that you and granddad got personal problems. Tell him I’m still slumped” Mike sighed shaking his head seeing the girl’s head hit the pillow. “Come on Y/n, you’re lucky enough that granddad ain’t making you work” She grumbled curses under her breath, damn that man. “The least you can do is run into town!” “Goddammit Mikey, Fine! Give me like, an hour. I wanna shower” Mike nods, leaving the room for her to get ready. “God I want to go home already” She got up and opened the dresser drawer to grab a shower cap

“Listen hear girl, you only going to the hardware store!”

Y/n hums as she skillfully laid her edges with the toothbrush in the bathroom, barely hearing the old man yell at her. She knew she had more plans then just to go to a damn hardware store, like seriously. If she wasn’t going to be confined in the house, the least she can do is explore.

“Are you listening to me Y/n!” Y/n sits the toothbrush on the sink, grabbing her black bandanna and walking out the bathroom. She laid it across her edges and went into the kitchen. “Of course granddad” She replied, sarcasm hinted in her voice. “Now what am I exactly going to the hardware store to get? Sum bolts or sum?” Leory shook his head at the girl as he handed her the keys

“My tractor needa oil change, I need you to go grab oil, spark plug, and a wheel” Y/n eyebrow furrowed at the mention of a wheel. “A wheel? Like a Wheel Wheel? The wheel for that big thing?” Leory nodded much to her annoyance. “Grandad, how am I supposed to get it in the back of the pick up?” She whined. Leory laughed, dismissing her by waving his hand. “Figure it out girl!” Y/n walks out, grumbling to herself. How the hell is she supposed to get that big ass wheel in the back of the truck? She walks outside to the driveway, unlocking the door and starting up the car. “Hey Y/n!” She looks over her shoulder to see Mike running over to the old truck. “What do you want brat?” She teases with a smile, her smile soon dropped seeing him rubbing the back of his head. “I forgot to say, If you see a blue trans am stand clear. You do not want to get in their path” Y/n rolls her eyes, putting the her foot on the brake as she shifts the gear into drive.

“You think I’m scared of some white kids? Boy please. I’ll be back!” Mike backs away from the truck, watching her pull out of the driveway and down the road.

Y/n spent the first hour searching for the store, Leory didn’t even give her any directions to the store. “At least this town is nice” She shrugs as she circles the block once again. A honk behind her made her check her rear mirror, only to see the car pulling up next to her. She looks over to see a man rolling down his window, she was hesitant to do the same but did follow suit.

“Aye, you lost?” Y/n blinks, getting a good look at what she could see of him in his car. He was wearing a band tee and a yellow hat, he also had a bandanna that matched hers on his wrist. “Yeah” She finally replied leaning out the window. “You know where the hardware store is ‘round here?” The boy chuckled, clicking his tongue in amusement. “I’m actually headed there right now, you down to follow?”

“Hell yeah” Y/n cheered seeing him take his foot off the brake and move forward. This might be easier then she thought

As the strange boy in the blue car promised, he lead her to the hardware store. She missed the place by a mile given where it was at. Y/n parks the car, taking the key out of the ignition. She got out to greet the boy who led her to the place, to at least say thank you. But she saw him already walk in the store, she sped up to meet him.

“Hey!” She smiled tapping him on his shoulder. He turned around and looked down at her, man he was tall. “You seriously walked off before I could thank you dude” That word felt funny coming out her mouth but she rolled with it. “I mean, It’s the least I could do after seeing you aimless circle the block” He chuckled, the both of them began talking and walking together

“Oh, so now you throwin shots?” She laughed as she watched him look up on the shelves. “If the shoe fits princess” Her heart slightly jumped hearing him call her that, but yet she was slightly freaked out. “Oh shut your mouth” He laughed as he turned back to her. He scanned her up and down before his eyes landed on her shirt. “You like Metallica?” Y/n looks down at her shirt, she forgot she had this old thing.

“Yeah, what about it” Y/n questioned as they walked to the next isle. “I didn’t know that someone like you likes that type of music” She rolls her eyes at that sentence, somethings are too good to be true. “What? A black girl like me can’t listen to ‘your’ type of music?” She said doing air quotes, the boy rubs the back of his head. “I never really said that, but alright” “But you were implying it” She counters. “What’s your name, white boy?” “White boy?” He questioned picking up a pair of pliers. “You’re white, are you not?” She teases glancing at the shelf, her eyes landing on a big jug of oil.

“The names Reggie, but my friends call me Belch” He watched as she picked up the jug of oil, a confused look appearing in his eye. Why would she need that? “Oooh! We friends just like that?” She grins holding the oil container in her hand. “Why they call you Belch?” An evil grin spread on his face, he leaned down to her to ear, Y/n backed away at this. “The hell you doin?” She asked slightly irritated. “Damn! Calm down, Does it look like Imma hurt you?” He saw how the girl gave him a sarcastic stare. “The sixties weren’t that long ago” Y/n started to walk out the isle, Reggie trailing not far behind.

“Seriously, You asked why they called me Belch! I was gonna tell you!” Y/n rolls her eyes, how stupid does he think she is? “What? Were you gonna burp in my ear or sum shit?” Reggie fell silent, he cracking a half smile that made her laugh. “Oh my god, You seriously was gonna burp in my ear?” “What? Noooo I would never!” She couldn’t help but smile seeing him on the verge of laughter. “Okay, maaybe I was” “Asshole” Y/n shot back, reaching up to press his hat over his eyes. “Don’t do that!” He moved her hand, she laughs backing away.

“You know where the spark plug isle is? I need one for a tractor” Reggie was a bit taken back by that, a girl like her is a farm girl? “Yeah uh, Next isle over” He said taking her over to the isle. “You a farm girl?” “Hell no” She quickly dismissed. “Im spending the summer with my cousin who happens to live on a farm” Y/n looks up at all the spark plugs lined up. “You a white male, pick which one would work for a tractor” “Just because I’m white doesn’t mean I know how tractors work but” Reggie reaches up to grab a plug, “This might work” He looked and saw how full her hands were with the container. “I’ll hold it for you” He reassures making Y/n smile.

“So, Are you gonna tell me your name or what?” It went over Y/n’s head that she didn’t tell him her name. “I’m Y/n, I thought I told you my name earlier” She shrugs as they walked to the cash register. “Nah, I was hoping that you tell me sooner” Reggie smiles as they placed their things on the counter. “Hey, Can you ring me up one of those tractor wheels?” The cashier looks behind him grabbing the wheel and rolling it on the floor. “Get that for me Reggie will you?” Y/n said as she pulled out the cash her grandfather gave her.

The two of them walked out of the store, Reggie rolling the wheel for Y/n all the way to the truck. “So tell me Y/n, You in a gang?” Y/n coughed, that question caught her off guard. “You do know that the black bandanna doesn’t mean your gang affiliated right?” Y/n watched as Reggie puts the wheel in the back of the truck, strapping it down to make it secure. “Not true” He said pointing to his black bandanna. Y/n rolls her eyes, of course the white boy thinks he’s gang affiliated. “Boy please, You ain’t White boy Rick” She cackles, “You probably have a close group of friends and yall probably started calling a gang” She saw how he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes were avoiding hers.

“Which, May I add, isn’t what a gang is. But you do you boo” Y/n walks over to him, smiling. “Thanks for your help today man, I had no idea how I was gonna get that wheel back there” Reggie lets out a laugh. “It was no problem, I was wondering why a girl was going to the hardware store” Y/n rolls her eyes, of course he had to talk about that. “I know stuff about cars” “Oh really?” Reggie challenged. “That Blue car over there, what type is it?” Y/n looks over at his blue car, squinting her eyes. “I don’t know the breed of cars, the hell I look like? You?” She laughed seeing him roll his eyes. “But I do know how to change a tire!”

“Good enough for me” Reggie shrugs. “So, Are you gonna be in town tomorrow?” Y/n thinks, Mike did ask her a day prior to take him to hang with his friends. “Most likely, Why?” She asked, she leaned on the side of the truck. “How about I show you around town since your from the city, or at least I’m assuming” Y/n smiles, nodding quickly. “Better than sittin in the house doing a whole lotta nothin, I’ll meet you here around twelve!” Reggie grins, “Yeah! I-I mean” He coughs, trying to die down his excitement. “Yeah, I’ll see you here” Y/n started to get in the truck, closing the door.

Reggie had moved away and when she pulled out and went her own way, he mentally screamed. “Hell yes” He grins going to his car, he couldn’t wait to tell the guys.

“What’s with your sudden change of heart and taking me to see my friends?” Mike watched as Y/n went through the closet to pick out some clothes for tomorrow. “What? I can’t just be a good cousin?” Y/n smiled throwing a shirt on her bed. “I didn’t know you actually had friends, like seriously I’d thought you were some loner weirdo” Mike crossed his arms, “Are you trying to throw digs at me? Like you aren’t the one who listens to heavy metal like you’re white?”

“Music has no race, Mikey” Y/n hums picking out a pair of shorts. “I may or may have not met someone, and they wanna take me around town. Mind ya damn business” “Your business IS my business” She rolls her eyes. As she went through her closet, she could only think about what Reggie really had in store for tomorrow.

#it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #belch huggins x reader #belch huggins #belch huggins x poc reader #belch huggins x black reader #x black reader #x poc reader #bowers gang x reader #mike hanlon #patrick hockstetter #henry bowers #victor criss

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