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e-dubbc11 · 23 days

Text

Stripped

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, male strip club shenanigans, lots of fun, fluff, and humor

Word Count: 4.1K-ish (who knew I had this much to say about Stripper! Rumlow 🤣😉)

Summary: Brock and Reader are in an established relationship. He’s been leaving to go to “work” at night and Reader seems to think he’s keeping something from her. Reader goes out with her friends for a friend’s birthday celebration and gets a surprise of her own.

A/N: Based on a conversation between me and my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass She always has wonderful ideas and this one was a lot of fun. Lily and I bounced dialogue off of each other that I did put in towards the end of this fic. I also made a playlist to go along with this and I’ll link that at the end. Real life Ginger @gijos helped me with a few details for this one too. I hope you like it! 🩵

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Didn’t you work already today, Brock?” You asked, looking up from your book.

Your boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, looked down at you with his whiskey colored eyes and nervously replied, “I did, doll. But this just came up and I’ll get paid extra for it so I have to go.”

The nervous tone to his voice told you he wasn’t exactly telling you the whole truth.

“Are you sure that’s all it is, baby?” You asked, softly.

He cocked his head slightly and gave you a half smile.

“Of course it is, sweetheart.” He replied.

Brock leaned down to kiss you on the forehead and with his work bag slung over his shoulder, he headed for the front door.

“It won’t take too long, I promise.” He said. Brock’s voice sounded tired and extra raspy after the long day he already had.

He had been doing these late night jobs for awhile now, but it just sounded like they weren’t the normal type of work he did for SHIELD. You had no reason not to trust him, he always came home when he said he would, and never broke his promises.

Later that night

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body when he spooned up behind you, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed your bare shoulder. The combination of his natural scent was mixed with something unfamiliar, cologne, perfume, or maybe both? But you ignored it and drifted back to sleep.

You were just happy he was home safe with you.

**********

The next morning, the aroma of coffee wafted past your nose as you rolled over in bed. The space next to you was cold where Brock had been sleeping, and you wondered how long he had been awake for.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Brock said with a warm smile as you slowly walked into the kitchen.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you asked him, “You must have gotten home pretty late, huh?”

The smile disappeared from his face. He could tell that you were a little upset.

“Yeah, I tried not to wake you, doll. I thought I was being quiet and I’m sorry if I woke you, baby. I really did try not to.” Said Brock.

The look on his face and the tone of his voice told you he felt bad for getting home late and disturbing your sleep but you decided it would be best if you just let it go. Brock felt bad enough without you giving him a bunch of shit for working late. He did apologize for it.

“It’s ok, baby.” You said with a slight smile. “May I have some coffee, please?”

As Brock poured coffee into your favorite mug, you reminded him that you were going out tonight with your friends for a birthday celebration. It was your friend Shannon’s birthday and she decided that she wanted to go see some strippers.

“What?” Brock asked as his lips pulled into a straight line and his voice dipped a little lower, the rasp a little more prominent.

“Yeah…you know it’s not really my thing but that’s what she wanted to do. She’s the birthday girl. You should see her, she bought a sash and everything.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock didn’t seem amused at all. He ran his thick fingers through his dark brown hair and hesitated before asking you, “Well, uh, which…which one, I mean, yeah so which club are you going to?”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you raised your eyebrows and shrugged.

“I dunno. I think Shannon said it was a place that’s a little ‘classier’ than the usual ‘bingo hall’ type male strip clubs. These are her words, not mine, baby. I think they’re all a little sleazy.” You said.

“S-so you really don’t know which one you’re going to?” Brock asked again, scratching his head.

You vigorously shook your head back and forth.

The scowl on his face returned as he slowly stroked his beard, his hair still messy from sleep and he pondered carefully on what to say next.

Brock was gazing down at the floor when you tilted his chin up so his eyes were focused on yours.

“What’s the matter, handsome? Do you not want me to go?” You asked, shyly.

He responded quickly.

“No, I mean…of course I want you to go. It’s your friend’s birthday and I would never tell you that you couldn’t do something, you know that. I have to work again tonight anyway.” Said Brock.

“Must be important if they need you on a Saturday night.” You said.

Brock nodded.

Neither one of you had any plans for the day until later so you suggested going out to lunch. He agreed and the two of you had a nice afternoon together.

**********

Brock called out to you from the kitchen before leaving for work.

“Hey doll?!! I’m leavin’ in a minute.”

You had just finished getting dressed. Taking him completely by surprise, you ran into the kitchen, leaped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips.

He set you back down onto the floor with his hands still wrapped tightly around your waist. Deepening the kiss, his tongue gently pressed against your teeth, begging for access to your mouth. Parting your lips, your tongue tangled with his while he gently brushed his fingers against your lace shirt.

As he rubbed the fabric in between his thick fingers, Brock glanced down at your outfit and pulled away slightly.

“What are you wearin’?” He asked.

You glanced down at your outfit, a sleeveless black lace shirt, tight jeans, and black over-the-knee boots. Turning around in a circle so he could get a better look (and see what he was going to be missing), you gazed up at him through your long dark lashes and replied, “What? You don’t like it?”

You were taunting him but only a little. Brock didn’t really react well to being teased but he tolerated it from you. He kissed the tip of your nose and answered, “Of course I like it, sweetheart. As I’m sure every other man will too when they get a look at ya.”

You rolled your eyes. Brock could be slightly possessive and intimidating but for the most part he would just use his bark and not his bite.

“Baby, it’s not MY birthday. Besides, you know I like to look nice when I go out.” You said.

He looked you over from head to toe.

“Uh huh. You look a little TOO nice, y/n.” Said Brock. “What time are you leaving?”

Glancing at the time on the stove, you replied, “I dunno, an hour or so.”

Brock looked at his watch and said, “Alright, well I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok baby, well you be careful. I love you.” You said, with a sly smile and a wrinkle in your nose.

He loved how playful you were and when you were, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Have fun, beautiful. Not TOO much fun, huh? I love you too.” He said.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, waved and walked out. You heard the bike start up and drive away. He usually didn’t get that worked up over you going out and you wondered why it bothered him so much, but then again you were going to watch male strippers.

Maybe he had a point, you knew how you would feel if female strippers were to grind up against him. It was just a reminder to make sure that the only one receiving any attention tonight, would be the birthday girl.

**********

“Uh, I didn’t think we’d be sitting this close.” You said looking at the stage directly in front of you.

“Yeah…it’s great, isn’t it?!!” Shannon exclaimed.

She was very excited so you just smiled a wide smile and gave her the thumbs up. You were happy because she was happy but you really hoped it wasn’t a curse being so close to the stage. You didn’t want to be singled out or pulled up onto the stage.

Everyone sat down, you turned to another friend that came along, Camilla, and asked, “Uh, s-so do they strip all the way down to, umm, a g-string orrrrr…?”

Camilla laughed and asked, “You’ve really never been to something like this before?”

Looking around, you shook your head nervously.

“Some of them do but a lot of them just strip down to their boxer briefs.” She said.

Still, extremely nervous, you replied, “Oh ok.”

She grabbed a hold of your arm and said, “Relax! We’re here to have fun! Tell that hottie over there to bring you a drink!”

That made you laugh, and you covered your eyes in embarrassment. She was right, you were there to have fun so you motioned for the very handsome shirtless server in a bowtie to come over so you could order a drink.

Even though you’ve never been to anything like this before, it didn’t mean that you were going to show up unprepared.

“Holy shit, y/n!!” Exclaimed Shannon. “How many ones did you bring?” She asked.

You glanced down at the wad of cash in your hand and replied, “Well, there’s a hundred here. Do you think I need more?” You asked in a semi-serious tone.

Everyone just laughed. Camilla touched your shoulder and with a wide smile stretched across her face, she sarcastically replied, “I dunno. You might wanna hit up that ATM at the front of the club.”

With your lips firmly pressed together, you glared at her before replying, “Very funny.”

**********

As the lights dimmed, a spotlight shone on the microphone that was placed in the center of the stage. A chiseled man in a leather vest and cowboy hat walked out as all the people in the audience, most of them women, started to clap and shriek uncontrollably.

Rolling your eyes slightly, you watched as the emcee took the mic and your friends collectively lost their minds over the cowboy in the black leather vest, while the song Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy played in the background.

He tried to calm the crowd but they just screeched even louder. When he did finally get everyone to settle down, he spoke.

“Are you animals ready to have some fun tonight?!!” The cowboy asked with a wide devilish grin.

The audience squealed, hollered and whistled in response. Looking around, you noticed everyone was clapping and very eager for the show to start. The drink you ordered was almost gone and it seemed to be doing its job to help you loosen up a little so you ordered another.

“I see we have some birthday girls in here tonight! Start getting excited because we have something fun planned for you. Alright…up first is a walking cliché but hey, it works. He’s a firefighter by day but also turns the hose on at night, if ya know what I mean. Please welcome ‘Blaze’ to the stage.”

The stage went dark, the music started and the spotlight reappeared. At first you noticed the boots, the dark pants with yellow stripes at the bottom, and the hat. He wasn’t wearing a shirt but he had suspenders on.

Under the lights, his near perfect body glistened under the bright lights and your jaw dropped. With the song Sex on Fire playing, Blaze took in the crowd’s energy and then took their dollar bills.

Removing one suspender strap and then the other, he was completely bare chested now dancing around the stage which is when he stopped in front of you. Slapping some dollar bills down in front of him, you felt yourself start to blush but you managed a shy smile anyway.

He removed his fireman’s helmet, winked, and placed it on top of your head. He danced away to the other side of the stage to finish removing his pants, revealing the short red boxer briefs with flames on them that he had on underneath.

Well that was fun.

“You’d never know that it’s your first time at a place like this!” Said Shannon with an excited smile. “You fit right in, sweetie!”

As the night progressed, you watched all the birthday girls get pulled up on stage and all of the “Magic Mikes” made their night by giving them each their own private dance. Shannon and the others looked like they were having a great time. Also, you and your other friends were having a blast, laughing and tossing dollar bills on stage.

The chiseled cowboy reemerged from backstage to take the mic again.

“Alright birthday girls, I hope you enjoyed your surprises. Now…we’re gonna rock out for this next guy. He has a day job but refuses to tell me what it is, says it’s ‘classified information’ which I take to mean that he’s a spy of some sort. What do you guys think, huh?” He asked.

Everyone started clapping and screaming, preparing themselves for the next dancer. Still wearing the fireman’s helmet, you checked to see how many dollar bills you had left. “That last group of guys were a little expensive,” you thought to yourself as you bit back a smile.

Camilla leaned over and asked you, “So…what do you think is comin’ out here next?”

You pondered for a minute before answering her.

Finally, you replied, “Well, let’s see…we’ve seen a firefighter, M.C. Hammer the construction worker, Captain Breaststroke, the swimmer that stripped down to his Speedo, guy in a three-piece suit, and a bunch of ‘Magic Mikes’…maybe the rest of the Village People are comin’ out next?!”

You started laughing which made Camilla laugh.

“Do you guys do this a lot? Ya know when I’m not around?” You asked the group. “I will admit it is fun but also REALLY cheesy.”

Woody the Cowboy started to talk again.

“Well, it’s a nice night outside but in here it’s about to get dark and stormy. Are you all ready to get…Thunderstruck?” He asked in a breathy whisper into the mic.

As the crowd clapped and screamed in anticipation for the next dancer, you remembered that Thunderstruck is one of Brock’s favorite songs and you hoped he was staying safe at work tonight.

“Ok you crazy animals, get your dollar bills ready and put your hands together for Romeo!” The cowboy said, enthusiastically.

The stage went dark and the cowboy took the mic and the stand with him as he walked off. The lighting linked up with the intro to the song and a silhouette dressed in all black emerged from backstage. His tight black undershirt had a heart in the middle and he wore loose black pants that could be removed quickly.

Flashes of light brightened up the stage for moments at a time then went dark again as the man came closer, moving his hips from side to side. From what you could see, he had dark hair and his toned tan skin glistened under the brief flashes of light.

As he moved closer to the front of the stage, his handsome face came into focus and your jaw dropped to the floor when you saw those amber eyes staring down at you. The music and screams from the crowd were drowned out inside your head. The silence was deafening as your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, heat rose to your cheeks and your blood burned like wildfire in your veins.

Your friends froze in place when they saw Brock’s face, then turned to look at you seething with anger. Dollar bills were tightly clenched in your fist, the fireman’s hat still on your head when his name escaped your lips, and not in the good way.

“BROCK?!!!!” You yelled as loud as you possibly could.

He didn’t move and was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. Everyone in the audience stopped and became very quiet.

“Oh shit…Ok, I can explain this.” He finally said after a minute of awkward silence.

“The hell are you doin’ here?!!” You shouted.

“My job, baby! I didn’t think you’d be HERE!” He replied.

“Obviously!!” Narrowing your eyes and glaring at him, you replied, “Start talkin’, ‘ROMEO’! Let’s go!”

You turned on your heels and headed for the entrance to the club with Brock hot on your heels while the cowboy came back out and introduced another dancer.

“Sweetheart…wait!” Brock called out after you.

Not even giving him a chance to explain, you just started yelling.

“THIS is what you’ve been doing when you said you had to go back to work?!!” You asked in an angry tone. “Am I not enough for you, Brock? That you need to get attention from every horny woman in town?!!”

Your breathing became very shallow and your heart felt like it was being squeezed as the pain in your chest persisted. If the dollar bills weren’t clutched in your dominant hand, you would have punched him in the face. You were that angry.

“I ain’t doin’ this for the reason you might think, doll. Alright?! I’m doin’ this because—“ Brock paused; he continued to stare at you and remained quiet.

“I’m waiting, Rumlow!” You said, folding your arms protectively across your chest.

“Sweetheart, it’s a little hard to take you seriously while you’re still wearing the fireman’s helmet.” He said with a half-smile.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Brock?!!” You said, pressing a finger into his chest. “Tell me why you’re doing this or I’m going home and throwing all of your shit out onto the lawn!!”

“Alright, alright!! I needed to make some extra cash because I wanted to buy somethin’ for ya, somethin’ you said you’ve always wanted. I had most of the money but I needed the rest of it fast because the guy I was gonna buy it from had someone else that was interested in it too.” He said. “So THIS is the only way I could make it happen.”

Still angry but also now a little confused, you narrowed your eyes and before you could open your mouth, he took your hand in his and led you to the parking lot.

“Brock, where are we going? I’m not done yelling at you yet.” You said.

He turned his head back to look at you.

“Can you close your eyes for me, doll? Please, y/n?” Asked Brock.

You inhaled sharply, still flustered with anger but you humored him and shut your eyes. The two of you continued to walk for a few more seconds when Brock stopped, let go of your hand and moved to stand behind you. The rasp in his voice sent a restless shiver down your spine as he whispered in your ear.

“Ok, sweetheart…open your eyes.” He said.

Slowly, your eyelids rolled back. The dim street light glowed above a beautiful shiny classic teal Ford Bronco. It looked just like the one your grandfather had when you were a child.

He remembered.

When your relationship with Brock was fairly new, he had asked about a favorite childhood memory and you told him about when you were young, your grandfather used to take you and your brother along with a couple of your cousins to get ice cream every Sunday after dinner during your summer vacation.

All of you would pile into his Bronco, roll the windows down, and off you went. You were the oldest and the only girl so you got to ride in the front seat. You loved that truck, and told Brock that you’d love to own one just like the one your grandfather had, someday.

Looks like someday had finally arrived.

Brock remembered that story and how happy that memory was for you. He even remembered what color it was. Your grandfather bought it in teal because it was your grandmother’s favorite color. Well now you felt like a little bit of an asshole but only a little bit because even though he didn’t technically lie to you, Brock didn’t tell you the whole truth but you could understand why he did what he did. You could only imagine the carnage if the roles were reversed, he would take on the entire room if you were on that stage instead of him.

Covering your mouth with your hands, you were rendered speechless.

“Oh Brock…it’s just like the one my Pop Pops had. You remembered.” You said with a hitch in your voice. “I can’t believe you bought me a car.”

“You like it then?” He asked with a sly smile stretched across his lips.

You gave him a warm smile as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I love it, baby. Thank you. I’d hug you right now but you’re all lubed up and greasy.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock laughed and replied, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, doll. It’s a little embarrassing but it made me a lot of money pretty quick. And tonight’s my last night anyway. Your Bronco is paid in full.”

“Well I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions…and threatened to throw your stuff out on the lawn.” You said, sheepishly.

He smiled and looked at your hand with the dollar bills in it.

“Wait…how many singles do you have left?” Asked Brock, pointing to your hand.

Fanning out the money in your hand, you counted it out loud.

“Ten…I have ten singles left.” You replied, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

“And how many did you start out with?” He asked.

Tight lipped, you didn’t want to answer his question so you looked away at something on the other side of the lot.

“Y/n…sweetheart…how many did you start out with?” He asked again.

Biting down on your lower lip, you tried to look at him but you couldn’t so with your eyes still averted, you finally replied in barely more than a whisper, “A hundred…”

With raised eyebrows and a shocked look on his face, Brock’s jaw dropped and he replied, “WHAT?! A hundred?!”

“Hey that fireman was REALLY good, VERY flexible, plus he gave me his hat.” You said with a wide smile stretched across your face.

Brock’s lips were tight and through clenched teeth, he said, “I’ll kill him. Ya know when he came backstage, he talked about the hot girl in the front row that he gave his hat to.”

With a devilish smile on your face, you said, “Oh really? Well, why don’t you get back in there, shake it for me, and if I like what I see, you can have my last ten dollars.”

Waving the dollar bills in front of his nose, you gave him a wink before leaning in to gently press your lips to his. Brock’s hands suddenly were wrapped around your waist, he pulled your body flush against his, your lips parted as he pressed his tongue against your teeth wanting to twist and knot with yours. A soft moan escaped your lips while your arms snaked around his neck and his stubble scratched your chin.

“You won’t be mad if I finish my last dance?” Asked Brock.

“Well…I hope it’s not your LAST dance, baby. Would you be interested in performing a private show?” You asked.

“As long as my girl is ok with it.” He said, his voice raspy in your ear.

You kissed him again and replied, “Oh I’m sure she’s ok with it. Now, do you want me to get a pole for the bedroom orrrrrrr?”

“Allllll-right, enough sweetheart. Let’s go back inside.” He said, gently smacking your ass.

You started to crack up.

“Ooh, ooh am I gonna get your thongs mixed up with mine?” You said, trying to keep a straight face.

Frowning slightly, he narrowed his eyes and glared at you.

“Very funny, y/n.” Said Brock, walking ahead of you.

Finally getting your laughter under control, you called out to him to get his attention.

“Brock…” You said, catching up to him.

“Yeah?” Brock replied, turning around to face you.

You pushed yourself up onto your toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“You know I tease you because I love you, right?” You whispered.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, then replied, “I know, doll. I know. And I love you too.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @k-marzolf @gijos @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan

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inactive-hellish-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

Caught in the act | Chase Davenport x male reader

genre: fluff

requested: yes

summary: Chase Davenport struggles with finding time to spend with his boyfriend due to missions and trying to hide the relationship from his family. Fortunately, his family was going out and coming home late one night. Or so he thought.

a/n: Again, sorry this took so long anon! But i hope you enjoy it. Some of the characters may be slightly ooc because I haven't seen Lab Rats in forever, but I tried my best.

word count: 1.9k

It wasn’t often you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Between going on missions, training, and homework, Chase didn’t have much spare time. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to tell his family about your relationship just yet, the act of tiptoeing around them making it even more difficult. Luckily, the Davenports were going out for dinner and a movie, and Chase had the wonderful excuse of an upcoming test to get out of it. He’d already gotten confirmation from Donald that all of them would be out all night, returning home far past the point of 10pm, and sent you a text to come by at noon with your school bag under the pretext of studying together for the same test.

~~~

“We’ll be back a little after 10. There’s leftovers in the fridge, or you can order something for dinner. And there better be nobody other than you and y/n in this house while we’re gone!” Mr. Davenport was the last one to leave the house, and he only did so after you and Chase repeatedly assured him that there would be no parties or breaking of rules of any sort. Once he was sure that the car was out of the driveway and far out of sight, Chase flopped down next to you on the couch, practically sitting on your lap with how close he was. You didn’t mind it one bit.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a dopey grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Hey yourself.” A comfortable silence blanketed over the room, so you spent a moment taking in every feature of your boyfriend’s face, reveling in the slight blush that formed at the attention.

“As much as I like it, staring at each other wasn’t on the agenda.”

“An agenda?” You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Chase dig around in his bag. “Don’t tell me you actually made a plan for today.” Just as the words left your mouth, he turned and held up a piece of paper with an even bigger smile than earlier.

“Of course I did! We've got movies, Netflix, books, board games, video games, and I bought a bunch of snacks!" He sat next to you again and pointed at the first thing on the handwritten schedule, though it was difficult to read the messy scrawl.

"We start with Sorry! Ready?" In response, you simply stared at him in silence with an exasperated, yet amused, smile.

"What? You don't like it? I wanted to make tonight as perfect as possible since we don't really get to spend a lotta time together, so I thought a schedule would- "

You cut him off with a quick kiss and grabbed his hand, thumbing over his knuckles. “For the smartest man alive, you sure are dumb." He looked slightly offended, though the pink dusting his cheeks told you he wasn’t. "I don't need an entire schedule to have fun, I just want to spend time with you. That's more than enough."

"That's adorable, and disgustingly cheesy. You really are a good boyfriend aren't you?"

"The best, and only for you." You leaned in for a kiss with exaggerated motions, and he pushed you away, laughter filling the air.

"So… is that a no to Sorry?" He asked sheepishly once your voices quieted once more and shook the board game box a few times.

"Sorry sounds great, babe."

~~~

After a few hours of playing board games (hours because Monopoly took much longer than expected), you both decided that snacks and a movie would be a good way to cool off your overheated brains.

You sat on the couch, getting comfortable with various chip bags surrounding you and a weighted blanket on your lap as Chase finished adjusting the settings on the TV. He claimed it would make the movie-viewing experience better, and you didn't have the heart to tell him the audio and visuals felt the same as they did before he changed stuff around.

"Annnd done!" With that, he shuffled under the blanket and after a moment of thought, conflict evident in the furrow of his brow, he chose to sit with his right thigh over your left and burrow into your side like a cat rather than next to you. He said he felt too clingy at the beginning of the relationship, but you made sure to assure him that you enjoyed it, and his so-called “clingy” tendencies began to show clearly.

The movie began to play, an animated romance/fantasy film you didn’t know the title of, and you leaned into your boyfriend while he did the same. Chase grabbed a bag of chips—Doritos, you noted absentmindedly—and you grabbed a handful, popping one into your mouth. The quiet crunching of chips filled the air, and the night went on like this for a while. The two of you in a dark room sharing chips, sharing kisses, commenting on the movie once in a while, shifting to a more comfortable position, and basking in each others’ presence because such moments were rare and too beautiful not to enjoy.

Around halfway through, as the protagonist on screen began a monologue about their love for their love interest, you felt eyes on you. You turned to be met with Chase’s intense eyes, widened from being caught staring, and a bit of blush evident in the light from the TV.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Obviously you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, then what’re you thinking about?”

“Now that’s a better question.” He sighed and placed his head on your shoulder. Something he did when he was either tired or embarrassed; you assumed it was the latter.

“I was thinking about you. Us. How lucky I am to have you. The fact that you’re my boyfriend, the fact that I’m your boyfriend… The fact that we’re boyfriends! Like, that’s insane!” He sighed, and it was heavier than the moment called for. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sound. “I know I haven’t been the best, not telling my family about our relationship, and being busy all the time with missions, and—”

“Hey, none of that.”

You raised his head and cupped his face with your hands, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone lightly.

“I already said, I don’t mind keeping us a secret until you’re ready to tell your family, and you can’t apologize for going on missions! You’re literally saving peoples’ lives, Chase! I admire you even more for it.” You were about to continue a monologue about your love for him when he cut you off with a kiss. It was long, but chaste, until he quickly changed his position to straddle your legs. It wasn’t unusual for either of you, since he often sat on your lap or between your legs casually, claiming it was comfortable, but it did give you the perfect opportunity to tease.

“I’m not complaining, but isn't this moving a bit too—”

“I’m definitely in love with you.”

You froze, not expecting the confession. Neither of you had used the L word yet, although you thought it many times, and after the initial shock faded, you felt your face go hot and your heart do flips.

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready, or you don’t feel the same.”

“No! I mean, yes. I love you too, I mean. I’m also in love with you.”

It was safe to say the movie was far forgotten at this point. It became background sound to the genuine confessions and charged stares. Eye contact was only broken when Chase made the move to kiss you again, and you accepted the action with equal enthusiasm.

Far too busy kissing and whispering sweet words to each other, neither of you succeeded in hearing the car pull up in the driveway, the voices getting louder as the people got closer to the door, and the jingling of keys as the door was unlocked. Only after the lights were turned on did you pull away and turn to see the rest of the Davenports standing at the door with incredulous expressions. You were frozen, but Chase practically jumped off of you, fixing his hair and clothes to look a little tidier.

“Mr. Davenport! You-you’re early! We totally weren’t doing anything! And we’re not dating, or anything! He was just about to go home, actually!” When he realized it didn’t do anything to convince anybody, he sighed. “Fine. I know it’s shocking, but we are… together…”

“I knew it! Adam, you owe me 10 bucks!” Bree’s gleeful voice pierced through the room, accompanied by Adam’s groan.

“How was I supposed to know they were together? It’s not like they told anybody!” The oldest sibling defended himself while pulling out a ten from his wallet and handing it over to Bree’s eager hands.

“Oh, come on, it was obvious! Have you seen the way they look at each other? It’s so cheesy it’s gross.”

“Maybe it was just a really close bro look!”

“If any of my friends looked at me like that, we wouldn’t be just friends for long.”

“Wait, you guys bet on us?” You asked them amused, but Chase looked at them with offense clear on his face.

“That’s not okay! My relationships are none of your business, and definitely not your entertainment!”

“Exactly! Guys, come on. No making bets on each other,” Mr. Davenport pitched in. “At least, not without letting me in on it.” He, Bree, and Adam all chuckled, but was shut down by Mrs. Davenport slapping her husband’s shoulder.

“Enough. Chase, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” Leo followed up Mrs. Davenport’s comment, as though attempting to be heard through the chaos, but most people ignored him in favor of listening to Chase’s response.

“I dunno, I guess I was just… scared that you guys wouldn’t approve. I mean, Mr. Davenport always told us it was too dangerous to get into relationships because of our missions, and I didn’t think you guys would like the fact that I sorta… told him about our bionics.” At this point, you were standing next to him and silently held his hand in support.

Mr. Davenport looked ready to scold him, likely about the second part of the confession, but Mrs. Davenport shut him down again.

“Oh, Chase. I get where you’re coming from, but we’re your family, and we care too much about you to stay mad. Though, I think we will need to talk about this later.” Chase nodded in understanding, and let out a sigh of what felt like relief.

“I totally get it, dude. I’d break Davenport’s rules if it meant dating someone as chill as y/n too,” Adam said with a grin.

“Just keep it out of my face and I don’t really care what you do,” Bree said with a serious tone, though her expression made it obvious that it was lighthearted.

“See? Told you they’d be okay with it.” You nudged Chase with your hips and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, eliciting another blush from him along with various sounds of disgust from the rest of his family.

The night ended with you and Chase cleaning up the living room and you spending the night at the Davenports’ place, as you have many times before. Only this time, you had to convince Mr and Mrs. Davenport to allow you to share a room with Chase.

#chase davenport #chase davenport x male reader #lab rats x male reader #male reader #lab rats #fluff #chase davenport fanfiction #chase x male reader #x male reader

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outerbankies · 3 years

Text

new light part 7: take a ride — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you feel everything fall into place when you finally get to see rafe again, but he still has to try and fit into your world somehow.

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: drinking, weed (omg!), swearing, a lil suggestive content

a/n: wowee this fic is getting looooooong. i think 2 more parts + an epilogue after this. i think. we'll see! say hello to a bunch of OCs with ridiculous names (i was having so much fun lol). let me know what you think of this one :) y'all know the drill but with s2 coming up just want to remind everyone this is not canon rafe cameron!

my writing

take a ride up to Malibu

The two months you’d spent apart from Rafe had been about as tough as you’d expected. Your boyfriend was attentive, calling and texting you (even though he hated texting, Rafe came around for you) almost every day. He was horrible at sending pictures, even when he demanded them from you all the time. You finally got through to him about how much you just wanted to see his cute face and he started sending you pictures when he felt like it, your favorite being the picture he made one of his friends take of him out on the golf course in the collared shirt you’d bought him donning your school’s emblem. Not to mention the picture Dylan had sent you of him with Rafe at a tailgate when their schools played each other in football. Your heart had nearly burst when your stupid little brother texted you, giving you his approval in his stupid little brother way.

Rafe is cool and if you break up with him I think I’d still be his friend

Don’t fuck it up

But no photos could compare to seeing the real thing, which you eagerly awaited as you leaned up against your white Jeep outside the airport in your college town. It’s a small airport just ten minutes from your campus, not many people around with only the one flight coming in.

You finally spot all six feet and three inches of Rafe Cameron, wearing the aforementioned golf shirt like a nerd. You know he spots you, because his pace goes easy, shoulders dropping by a foot and smile taking over his features. You attempt to play it cool, staying leaned up with your arms crossed over your chest against the hood of your Jeep. But as soon as you have a clear path to him, you really can’t resist. You step off your car to tug him into your arms as soon as possible, but it’s a useless gesture. Because Rafe immediately drops his duffel on the cement in front of your car, backing you right back up into the side of it. “Holy shit. There’s my girl. Look at you.”

“Look at you!” you squeal, knocking his hat off his head, running a hand through his hair. It was longer than it had been since you even started dating. It was definitely working for him. “Baby, your hair!”

He blushes at your attention. “I know, I know. You like it?”

Ever since Rafe made you binge the Fast and Furious series with him, his favorite, he’d been ticked off by how hot you found Paul Walker. He agreed to go as Brian and Mia for the costume party your roommate was throwing because it meant he could wear a shirt and jeans, Rafe’s only requirement for a costume. But when you told him it meant he had to grow out his hair so he could look more like Brian, he’d immediately complained. When you showed him what you planned on wearing, it was even worse.

“Why can’t you be Letty? She’s a badass. And she wears less revealing outfits.”

“Then you’d have to be Dom. Did you wanna shave your head?”

He’d rolled his eyes through the grainy Facetime camera.

“You can cut it off right after, baby,” you’d plead. “I can book you a slot at my salon.”

“Fine. Is it one of the fancy ones where they’ll wash my hair too?”

“Obviously. What do you take me for, Cameron?” You’d paused, looking at the picture of Paul Walker in the 2000s you had pulled up on your phone, comparing it to your boyfriend’s face on your laptop screen. “Am I pushing it if I ask you to use the sun lightener?”

You take his sunglasses off too, dropping it in the passenger seat like you had his hat, running your fingertips all over the lines of his face.

“Rafe, you look so good,” you praise. “You’re gonna be the perfect Brian.”

“I better, I wanted to cut it so bad,” he whines. “I can’t believe I have to meet your roommates looking like a hooligan.”

“Shut up, they’re so excited to meet you,” you say, hands resting on his chest. He still hasn’t let you off the car, his entire body pressed into yours like he’s trying to merge them together. Except you still haven’t kissed him, which isn’t acceptable. Rafe makes the realization the same time as you, hand sliding into the strands at the nape of your neck, slotting his lips over yours for the first time in months. “Minty. Did you just brush your teeth in the airport?”

“‘Course I did. So let me kiss you some more.”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” he murmurs, barely moving back from your lips. “Hi. I love you. My California girl.”

Your body thrums, you hadn’t heard those words in person since back in August at the air strip. You thought they’d lose their effect once Rafe started dropping them on to the end of every Facetime sign off, texting it to you (barely legible, along with a slew of random emojis) when he was a tad over-served, or recording it on your voicemail box when he knew you had a hard day, but couldn’t force himself stay up long enough to call you when you were off of work and he was three hours ahead. But damn, if hearing it when he was standing right in front of you wasn’t bad for your heart. “I love you, too. Missed you.”

“Missed you,” he agrees, arms coming around your waist to hug you so tightly he lifts you off the ground. “You drive a Jeep out here?”

“Of course. Doesn’t it suit me?”

“Everything suits you. Come here, I’m not done kissing you.”

—

Rafe watches in awe as you point out all of the sights to him, driving him by all of your favorite spots and stomping grounds on the way back to your townhouse. And he didn’t get enough of you at the airport, pulling you in for kisses at every single red light. His leg is bouncing up and down the entire ride over, and you knew he wasn’t used to being driven by you but you didn’t think you were that bad. But when he starts messing with his shirt collar and his hair once you pull into your neighborhood, you realize what’s really going on.

“How do I look?” he asks, opening your drivers’ side door and standing in front of it so you can see his entire outfit.

“Fine,” you say, accepting his hand as you get out of the car.

“Not too, like, kook-y right?” he asks, grabbing your keys from your hans so he can unlock your trunk. You sigh, surveying his outfit when he grabs his bag out of your trunk. You try to take it but he just slings it over his shoulder.

“You listen to your sister’s friends too much. And there’s only so much I can do when you show up in a pair of Sperry’s, RC.”

“I did not miss hearing that. And fuck. I knew I should’ve worn my Birkenstocks. They’re gonna think I’m so preppy.”

“You are, but so are they. Now c’mon.”

“Hold on.” He bends down to check his hair in the driver’s side mirror.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“I want them to like me, Y/n/n. These are the first friends of yours I met that I didn’t already know,” he explains, smoothing his hair every which way. “Plus, they’re way cooler than me.”

“I know I didn’t just hear Rafe Cameron say that.”

Rafe had been able to meet Davis and McCall over Facetime of course, always joining in with them to egg you on to go out when you just wanted to stay home and talk to your boyfriend instead. And you knew for a fact they were all Instagram mutuals.

“Go on, baby girl. Have fun with your friends. M’tired anyways,” he’d say. McCall would fake wretch in the background; Davis would fan himself dramatically out of view of your webcam.

“You did great with my parents,” you point out.

A look you can’t decipher flashes across his face. “Yeah, but that’s—”

“Just pretend Davis and McCall are my parents.”

“At least if it was your parents I’d have Wilbur here,” he whines.

“Oh, toughen up, babes.” You lean up to kiss him. “If my friends are cooler than you, does that make me cooler than you, too?”

“Yeah, but I already knew that.”

“But you still got me,” you preen, wrapping your arms around his neck, tugging him down slightly.

“You know this,” Rafe says, letting himself relax in your hold. “That was pure luck.”

“Mm,” you hum, connecting your lips with his once again. “For me or for you?”

—

You knew Rafe would be wiped from travel, the time difference not doing anything to help, so you promised you’d keep his first night in California low-key. He told you he was down for whatever, but you insisted on a night in, with just your roommates as company. Which was a tall order in and of itself.

Davis and McCall loved Rafe. Like, won’t stop texting the roommate group chat about how hot he was in person. Like, Davis following you to the bathroom to ask if you had anymore “southern himbos” that you could set him up with. Like, McCall drunkenly—low-key night in didn’t have to mean sober night in—banging on the door to be included, wrapping you up in a teary hug and saying how happy she is for you because he’s just so sweet. She hated the idea of you dating a boy from your hometown after what happened to her freshman year, but you could tell he'd won her over.

You’d accepted her hug but left them up there to collect themselves, coming down the stairs to find Rafe standing in your kitchen. He’s looking at your array of Smeg appliances, tracing his finger over the controls on your espresso machine.

“Coffee this late at night?”

He smiles in surprise, setting down his IPA on the marble island. You’d bought them just for him, a local brand of course. You had no idea what you were doing in the beer aisle at Whole Foods, but he seemed to like it.

“It’s a nice place, Y/n/n. California looks good on you.”

“It looks good on you, too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt like hadn’t been able to stop touching him for more than ten seconds at a time since he got here. Not that either of you mind.

“Everything okay up there?” he asks, nodding his head to where you ran off with your roommates.

You nod, yanking his head down to kiss his forehead. “You passed. Flying colors.”

Rafe sighs in relief and buries his head in your neck, flushing crimson from his cheeks to his collarbones.

—

“I’m biased, but I think they’re great,” Rafe says, a heavy hand coming to rest on the strip of skin of your hip between your jeans and your strappy tank.

“Mm,” you hum, pushing him back a little to twist and turn in front of the mirror. You were really excited to wear these vintage designers jeans you got from a consignment store downtown, but they were way lower of a rise than you were used to. They sat practically under your hip bones. You were committed to the look. “You think?”

“Yes,” Rafe says definitively, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He nudges past you to fiddle with his hair in the mirror, and you cross your arms over your chest, smiling at his expression. “I can't believe you're in my bathroom. Also, I promise you look hot.”

“Take your own advice then, Y/l/n,” he counters. “Refill?”

“Please,” you say, chugging the rest of your wine and handing him your stemless glass. “You know what I’m drinking, right?”

He gives you a look in the mirror. “Don’t insult me. And when are we switching to Coronas?”

“Ew, Rafe,” you scrunch up your nose. “I only bought those for the pictures.“

He just smiles. “You are such a princess.”

“And?” you say, touching up your darker eyeshadow, leveling him with a look in the mirror.

He shakes his head, biting his lip. “Missed you, princess,” he says, kissing your head one more time before heading downstairs.

Rafe indulges your friends like a champ, doing the same greeting about ten times over. You begin to lose track of how many times he’s introduced himself after your third glass of wine, just plastering yourself to his side and looking up at him dreamily while he explains how the two of you got together.

You loved watching him like this, watching him make a place in your world out here. You’d really distanced yourself from the Outer Banks since you moved to school, so sometimes it was hard to reconcile those two parts of your lives. But having Rafe here in your living room, talking with some of the guys you’d dormed with freshman year—it’d never felt easier.

You have to remind yourself that you’re the one hosting him, because Rafe is always the one trying to take care of you and play that provider role. He doesn’t even bat an eye, navigating your kitchen to get either of you new drinks, taking pictures of you with your friends, slipping into conversations with some of the guys you and your roommates had invited over effortlessly—taking all of the flack they give him for being a southern boy in a fraternity. They weren’t his usual crowd, and you could see it wearing on him a bit. Even for a couple of Figure 8 kids, the group you fell into at college could be a bit extravagant. But Rafe was doing a good job of not letting it show. At least not to anyone else, but you knew your boy.

“You good?” you ask him, after the friends you’d been talking to walk off for refills.

“Yeah, baby girl. I’m great,” he says, using the arm around your shoulder to bring you into forehead-kissing distance. The cool condensation of his tequila tumbler brushes up against your shoulder, causing you to jump. “Sorry. Let me fix that.” He throws the rest of his drink back, setting his glass down on a table behind you.

“Oh god,” you laugh, and he just smiles mischievously, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like tequila and beer. You’d put up with it, just for him.

“Why’d that one dude look at me so weird when I asked what he was going into after graduation?” he asks. You furrow a brow, trying to think back to what conversation he was talking about.

“Oh,” you realize, laughing a little. “The one who said politics? Tall with brown hair.”

“Yeah, that was weird.”

“He’s a Kennedy.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “Jesus christ, Y/n/n. Are Malia and Sasha here, too?”

“McCall actually knows—”

“I need another drink,” he tells you, letting you unwind from his hold. He looks around at the party, then back down at you. “Actually, you mind if I step outside for a bit?”

“Of course not. You sure you’re alright? I can come with you.”

Rafe shakes his head, smoothing a hand down the back of your hair and pressing a kiss to your temple to cut you off. “Just give me five. It’s warm in here”

“Okay,” you nod, letting him walk off, but not before giving his hand a squeeze.

—

Rafe steps onto your back patio to catch his breath, pulling incessantly at his shirt collar like he had been all night until he decides to just pop the first few buttons, sighing and taking a long swig of his drink. He almost hates that he loves the local beer you told him you’d picked up just for him. And maybe the thought behind it was part of why he liked it so much but, god damn. You didn’t even like beer and you managed to nail it. Good girl. His girl.

He’s frantically typing out a text to the boys before he can help it.

Rafe: Guys what the fuck

Rafe: Y/n is friends with a Kennedy

Top: Lmao

Top: Of course she is

Kelce: I told you bro. You were warned

It takes him a second to notice the other figure on the patio, hearing the slide of sand on concrete underneath their shoes before making out their figure.

“Hey man,” they say, and Rafe can make out a figure in one of the deck chairs by the fire pit. He recognizes him from meeting him earlier inside, some guy one of your friends had brought along, but can’t quite place his name.

“Hey, uh…?” he trails off, slinking over to sit in the chair beside him. This guy’s wearing a trucker hat and flip flops. Rafe immediately likes him.

“Wren.”

“Wren,” Rafe confirms. “Rafe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Y/n’s guy, right?” the guy says, connecting a Corona to his lips. Rafe briefly wonders if it’s the from the six pack you’d bought for your costumes.

“That’s me,” Rafe preens. If he cranes his neck, he can see you through the window in the living room. Cares about your outfit long gone, your hands in the air, wrapped around your friends’ shoulders. Life of the party, spilling love, light and laughter (and maybe a little bit of riesling) onto any patron you come in contact with. He could clock your eyes searching for him, he knew he had about seven minutes before he’d be found again. You were always worrying about him.

“Nice. Hey, good to meet you. Loved your costumes,” Wren says, leaning over for a handshake so firm that Rafe thinks about how it rivals Ward’s. Rafe looks over his casual attire with a pensive stare, and Wren laughs. “We’re supposed to be Brody and Kristin from The Hills.”

Rafe nods in recognition, even though he has no idea who that is. When you told him McCall was hosting a couple’s costume party just for an excuse to get with the TA in one of her classes, he’d assumed it’d be a sea of Jim and Pams and Hughs and Playboy bunnies. But he’d hardly recognized any “costume” he’d seen all night. And it felt way more like a Figure 8 soiree than any college party he'd been to.

“Your first time out here?” Wren says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I go to school in Georgia.”

“Sick,” Wren’s eyes light up. “What for?”

“Uh,” Rafe fumbles. This might’ve been the first genuine interaction he’s had all night, feeling totally comfortable and paid attention to in a non-condescending way. “Finance. For my dad, he’s got a development company.”

“Back in your guys’ hometown, right?”

“Yeah. What about you?” Rafe asks tentatively. He notices the lines around Wren’s eyes, the rougher look he’s got to him.

“Ah, I was at the CC down the road from the university,” Wren starts, taking another swig of beer. “Took a semester off. I like working at my uncle’s garage.”

Rafe nods, a bit shell-shocked by how this conversation with a guy he would’ve probably never given a second glance to back in the Outer Banks was by far the easiest one he’s had all night with your friends.

“How did you meet, uh… what’s her name? Sorry, been meeting new people all night,” he asks sheepishly. Wren laughs.

“No worries. Delilah. Yeah, her dad’s a long time customer. Said his daughter was coming in to get her brakes checked one day,” he says, readjusting his hat. He smiles fondly. “Rest is history.”

Rafe nods, eyes clocking you in the kitchen, crouching down and standing on chairs to take a zillion pictures for your roommates in their costumes. He sees you talking to who he now remembers is Delilah, she’s tugging on your belt loop and making you blush about your jeans.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Wren continues, noticing Rafe’s eyes on the two of you. “How did a guy like me land her? End up at these fancy parties?”

“Honestly, man,” Rafe says, leaning back into his deck chair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been feeling the same way all night.”

“A lot of the people in there are… well. You know,” Wren laughs. “But Y/n has never been like that, at least since I’ve known her.”

“I know,” Rafe nods. “She's always been great.” His knuckle brushes up against the Zippo he has tucked into his jeans, bringing it out to flick it on and off lazily. He clocks the moments Wren’s eyes zero in on his movements.

“Hey, Hometown. You smoke?” Wren pulls a perfectly rolled joint from behind his ear. Rafe swears he’s never loved a guy more.

—

When your boyfriend re-enters your townhouse, his eyes are about five shades pinker than they were when he’d left. You catch Wren following behind him, who winks at you. You just roll your eyes.

“What’d you do to my boyfriend?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Wren says, but his eyes are just as pink. “Had to show your Georgia boy how we grow out here in Cali. Where’s Li? She texted me she wants to head out.”

“Living room. Thanks for coming,” you smile, pulling him in for a hug. You lock eyes with Rafe while Wren gives you a squeeze. Your boyfriend is just giving you the dopiest smile.

“Sure thing. See you later, Y/n/n. And hey,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I like this one.”

You just smile, waving him off.

“O’Connor, can I get a vibe check?” you ask, giggling as your boyfriend practically melts into you, pulling you to splay across his lap in a kitchen chair.

“Little bit crossed. Is that what they call it out here?”

“Yep,” you confirm, pushing his long hair back from his eyes for him. You were really gonna miss this haircut.

“Crossed. In love with you. Kinda in love with Wren,” he murmurs. “Lol.”

“Did you just say 'lol'?”

“Yeah. He said he’d never seen you as happy as you are with me,” Rafe preens. Totally gone, on an entire other planet. But his words still hit you straight to the heart. “Is he right?”

“About me being happy with you?”

Rafe nods, blush blooming across his cheeks.

You lean forward, kissing both of them. “Yeah, he is.”

“Wanna know a fun fact?” Rafe asks. You just quirk an eyebrow, standing up to lead him into the kitchen. He rests up against the island while you fill up your pink Hydroflask and get a cup of water for him.

“What’s that, babes?”

“He gave me another one. As a gift,” Rafe whispers conspiratorially, pulling it out of his shirt pocket. “And I think we should go upstairs, and smoke it in your bed while we watch The Office.”

“Then come back down?” you joke, already putting your hair up in the claw clip Rafe had let you attach to the bottom of his shirt for when you needed it. He was watching you with stars in his eyes as you twisted your hair up. He shakes his head, blinking his bleary eyes.

“No. Then we sleep. This top doesn’t look comfy though. You should change before we sleep.” He fiddles with the halter straps of your tiny tank, frowning down at you.

“C’mon,” you agree, knocking his hands away to start pushing him toward the stairs. “If we’re fast, we can pull an Irish exit. Straighten up.”

“Yes’m,” Rafe agrees, growing by about two inches as he stands up straight. His tall frame is cutting through the sea of bodies like a knife, and you just have to be thankful you can hide behind his broad figure while you skate across the living room floor, ignoring glances from your roommates and friends. “You’re gonna change though, right?”

“Yes, Rafe. Calm down,” you laugh, finally getting him to sit down on your bed. He’s haphazardly kicking his shoes off, his jeans ending up in the middle of the room.

“Just want you to be comfy. You can take one of mine,” he says, gesturing to his suitcase before sticking the joint between his lips.

“Cameron! Crack a window,” you admonish, half undressed.

“Oops, sorry, sweet girl. Going now,” Rafe says, stumbling to push your window open and practically rip his shirt off. He stares down at the ground outside your house, smiling at you with a joint in between his teeth. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed from the drinks, body bare save for his blue boxers as he leans outside of your window. You almost want to take a picture. “I think this wall might be easier to scale than your house back home.”

You rifle through his suitcase, settling on an oversized and faded black shirt. Smelled just like him. You make a note to shove it to the bottom of your hamper next time he’s in the bathroom. “Good thing we’ll never have to find out.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Rafe says, holding the joint to your lips for you where you bend over the bed. “Might be a fun role play.”

“Jesus Christ, Rafe,” you giggle, nearly coughing on your hit. He just grins, putting the joint between his lips while you stand again to take your makeup off.

“Also, when are you going to get these blinds fixed?” he asks, gesturing to where your blinds gathered up to one side, the string sinched beyond repair.

You were a lightweight; it takes you a second to realize what he's talking about. “You sound like my dad.”

“Does your dad know anyone can just look in here when you’re changing?”

You smile at him lazily. “He gave me a number of a place to call and sent the cash for the repair. I just keep forgetting.”

“I can fix them for you,” Rafe says, joint still emitting smoke as he assessed your blinds, fiddling with the strings and slats appraisingly.

“If you want. Did you have fun tonight?” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Rafe says, a little quickly. You glance at him, your eyes growing heavier by the second, through the mirror of your vanity. “It was a lot. Your friends are intense. But I liked Wren.”

“Wren’s a good guy,” you say, coming to melt against your boyfriend where he’s laid down in your bed now. He still holds the joint for you as you lean back into his chest, body bracketed by his bare legs. “He and Li have been together forever.”

“Glad you have a guy like that around you out here,” Rafe says, reaching over you to pull out your laptop from where you keep it on your bedside table. “Set it up.”

“Mm,” you nod, the joint really starting to curl around your senses as you try to remember your password. Your skin feels on fire wherever Rafe touches you. But that might not even be the weed. “Baby—”

Rafe nearly moans. “How come you hardly ever call me that?”

“It’ll lose its potency,” you smirk. “Can you ash that out in the little tray on my windowsill?”

“‘Course. One more hit for you,” he says, handing it back over. Rafe ashes it out and then gathers you into his arms, clumsily walking you across the room until the two of you stumble into your en suite to brush your teeth, giggling at each other the entire time. You nearly burn your throat by taking a long drink of water when you’re done, Rafe just shutting his mouth in protest when you try to get him to drink some.

“For me?” you ask, straddling his hips. He rolls his eyes, taking the glass from you and downing the entire thing. He even takes a swig of your Hydro for good measure. “Thank me tomorrow when you aren’t hungover.”

“We won’t be hungover if we just smoke another J in the morning.”

“I invite you out here one time and you turn into a stoner,” you giggle.

“You're the one with an ashtray on your windowsill. Get under the covers,” he demands, shutting off your lamp and setting your computer on his lap. You oblige, squealing when he knocks the laptop off of his lap to get closer to you. He presses a kiss into your hair. “Missed this, Y/n/n. Missed you.”

You look up at him, the glow of your laptop illuminating his features. “Missed you.”

—

You’d be remiss if you didn’t notice the slight ways in which Rafe’s mood deteriorated over the weekend. He was more than ecstatic about most things; he loved seeing your campus, had bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet when you asked if he wanted to attend a class with you.

And he had actually gone out of his way to set up plans with Wren and Delilah after the costume party, blushing at the way you gawked when he’d told you he wanted to meet them at the beach.

So you thought you might be pushing him when you asked him to tag along for drinks with your capstone cohort, because they were by far the most uppity of any of your friends.

And no matter how hard you tried to escape it, you were seniors about to start the rest of your lives in a few months—all anyone wanted to talk about was post-grad. Rafe had pretty much leaned into it, and you wondered in the back of your mind what his motivations were. If he was comparing himself, if he was attempting to force the conversation between the two of you. Either way, if the look he’d given you when the sleek Uber XL pulled up to the back entrance of the lounge, and you’d dragged him through the private area straight to the VIP section without a second thought hadn’t been enough to set you on edge, the pinch in between his eyebrows as your classmates rattled off their post-grad plans definitely was.

“Google.”

“Harvard Law.”

“Interning for my uncle at the Hill.”

“I have offers from all of the big 4, just trying to decide for now.”

“I simply don’t work,” Davis says, sipping on his drink. You were so glad you could convince him and McCall to come along, to ground both you and Rafe.

“Oh hush,” you admonish. “Davis‘s mom is a designer and so is he. He’ll be at NYFW by spring.”

“What about you, Rafe?” your classmate, Meredith asks.

“Uh, my family has a development company.”

“Like, software? Are you in Silicon Valley?” Frederick asks.

Your boyfriend sucks in a breath, his chest moving against where your body is pressed up against his on the bench seat. “No, er—like houses, properties? Back in mine and Y/n’s hometown. North Carolina.”

“Rafe’s gonna be CFO one day,” you say, pushing some hair out of his face, smiling at him proudly. “If he wants to.”

“Ha,” McCall laughs. “As if Y/n would ever leave California. She’ll have you out here soon enough.”

So maybe you weren’t glad she came. You shoot her a look, but she shrugs, sipping her martini through a straw.

“Guys,” you chide. “That’s months away.”

Rafe’s quieter after that, saying less and less as the conversation goes on, not that any of your friends seem to mind. You lean into his ear about half an hour later, when he’s looking around for the waiter to order another round for the two of you.

“Just realized something,” you murmur.

“Hm?” he asks, one hand on your back and the other bringing the remainder of his drink up to his lips.

“If both of my roommates are here right now, then our house is empty.”

Rafe pauses, then throws the rest of the drink back, making you giggle. You’re sliding off his lap to sit on the bench next to him, smiling fondly at him as he tries to simultaneously wave down the waiter and open the Uber app on his phone.

“I’ve got the table,” he says, gesturing with the black card in between his forefinger and middle to your table of friends as the waiter comes by. “But we’re heading out, so I’ll let you run it now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy. You’re our guest. I booked us the table, I'll pick it up,” Frederick says. You can feel Rafe actively resisting rolling his eyes, and you squeeze his hand under the table. He definitely shouldn’t have said buddy.

“Alright,” Rafe says, standing from the table, hand held out for you. “Nice to meet you all.”

McCall and Davis just give you knowing smiles, and you can already feel your phone buzzing with texts in your purse.

You stop in confusion, bumping into Rafe's back when he halts you two at the hostess stand by the exit of the lounge. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a sec, sweetheart.” Rafe slides his credit card out again, telling the hostess which table your friends are at and that they can order whatever they want until bar close. You just smirk, hugging his arm to your body as he tugs your outside to wait for the Uber. “What?”

“You’re such a man sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Because I wanna buy my girlfriend’s friends some drinks? No offense, but that guy’s a dick.”

“Remember that guy I told you about? I met his parents sophomore year?”

Rafe nods, frowning when you remain silent. “You did not go out with that asshole. I thought you said his parents were hippies?”

“They are,” you agree.

“Rich hippies?”

“Yep. But you’re kinda hot when you’re trying to prove yourself.”

Rafe forces out a breath. “Where the fuck is the Uber?”

—

Usually, Rafe can feel himself physically relax whenever he’s in your presence. He sees your smile and your eyes, feels your touch; anything he’d been worried or stressed about melts away. That had been his life all summer, his body practically melting whenever he'd see you after a rough day at work with his dad. He remembers one time, when he'd fucked up so badly—at least in his dad's eyes—that he'd sent him home from work early. Rafe had asked where you were, flipping a u-turn when you said you were taking a spin class at the Island Club. When he'd met you at the smoothie shop nearby, your ponytail bouncing on top of your head as you skipped up to him, it was like his day was starting anew.

And he’d definitely felt that way when you first picked him up from the airport. And he still felt it when you two were alone, after you finally shut your bedroom door for the night or when your roommates left the two of you alone for a little bit.

But for everything else in between—he’d been rigid. Every party, every club, and every interaction with your friends was just winding him up more. He hoped you didn’t pick up on it, because he knew he could play it cool when it mattered. And he really couldn’t handle a discussion about the root cause of all of these things he was feeling: his dad’s words that had been echoing in his mind for two months straight.

Like now, the two of you standing on the porch outside of Agnes and Beau’s—Rafe swears he can't catch a break.

Of course it was a gated community, a security guard smiling and waving you through once he saw who you were. You’d driven your Jeep up a hill to another gate, punching the programmed button in your car to open it. Rafe had white knuckled the roof handle the entire time.

“What does… what do they do again?” Rafe asks, counting at least six spots in the garage as you pull up to park.

“Agnes is an author. But Beau’s in real estate and development, just like you,” you say, hand coming to rub in between his shoulder blades.

He’s facing the double doors as the two of you wait when he feels your hand come up to thread through the hair on the back of his neck, heel of your palm pressing down until he’s obliged to look over at you. “Thanks for coming to meet them, Rafe. I’m—I really appreciate it. They're like my family out here.”

And Rafe’s softening at your tone, leaning forward to kiss you before he can even help it. “Of course, sweetheart.” But his nerves didn’t dissipate.

One door swings open, a flurry of ringlet curls burrowing into your legs, short arms wrapping tightly around your thighs. “Miss Y/n!”

“Hi Becks,” you coo, immediately crouching down to his level.

“Y/n, you know you don’t ever have to ring the door bell,” the woman in the doorway, Agnes, says. She turns to Rafe, resting her hands on her hips. “You must be the boyfriend!”

Rafe laughs awkwardly, peeling his eyes away from where Beckham is hiding behind your legs. “That’s me. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs.—”

“Oh,” she says, waving a hand. “Call us Agnes and Beau.”

“Of course,” Rafe nods. “Thanks for having us, Agnes.”

“Please,” Agnes dismisses, stepping to the side to allow you both in. Rafe looks over at you, and you’re already holding Beckham on your hip, talking to him quietly. He ushers you in with a hand on your back, smiling at Beckham over your shoulder. The little boy just burrows his face into your neck. “I’ve been hearing about the hometown water polo boy for years now.”

“Agnes,” you whine, and Rafe knows if he put the back of his hand on one of your cheeks right now it'd be warm to the touch. “Becks, can you say ‘hi’ to my friend? This is Rafe. Can you say ‘hi, Rafe’?”

Rafe files away what Agnes says to tease you about later, focusing on the little boy you’re bumping on your hip. “Hi, Beckham.”

“Hi, Mistuh Wafe,” the little boy says, burrowing his head back into your shoulder.

“Sorry,” Agnes says, leading the three of you out to the backyard. “We have him in speech therapy for those pesky Rs.”

“Oh,” Rafe says, taken aback by her contempt. This kid can’t be older than four. “No worries at all.”

“Rs are hard. Where’s Barry?” you inquire, before Rafe hears water splashing in the backyard. You smile over at him. “Ah, should’ve known.”

“Why don’t you both go outside? I’ll bring you drinks. Y/n, I have a riesling you’ll love. Rafe, the same for you?”

“That’s perfect, thank—”

“He’s being too nice. Rafe likes beer. Or maybe one of Beau’s whiskeys?” you say, smirking at him.

“A polite guest,” Agnes winks. “I’ll pick something good for you, Rafe.”

“Whatever you have is fine, thank you.”

“C’mon, baby,” you say, and Rafe can tell you know what you’re doing. How can he stay mad when you call him that?

“Baby,” he parrots, voice dropping to a whisper by the ear furthest from Beckham. “You’re making me look bad.”

“Stop, you can do no wrong.”

“You’re right. I am the hometown water polo boy, after all,” he smirks.

“Oh, for the love of god,” you say, setting Beckham down when the two of you reach the grass. “You’re not gonna let that go for a while, are you?”

“Nope,” he says. “You talked about me to your employer?”

“Rafe,” you groan.

“Kinda obsessive, if you ask me,” he says.

“Ah, there he is,” a male voice says. Rafe looks over, seeing a tall man with sunglasses on and a sweater tied around his shoulders striding across the yard. Rafe almost feels like he’s back in Figure 8. “Y/n, introduce me to your boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, grabbing Rafe’s forearm. “Rafe, this is Beau. Beau, this is Rafe.”

“Nice to meet you… Beau,” Rafe says, relaxing as he recalls what Agnes had said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course, of course,” Beau says. “We love Y/n. We’re so glad to have her. Any friend of her’s is one of ours. Or boyfriend. Although, you are the first, son.”

Rafe can't stop the shit-eating grin on his face when he looks down at you.

“Oh my god. Anyways, let’s go meet Barron,” you say, already tugging Rafe away from the man.

“They’re just selling you out tonight, Y/l/n,” he teases, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You’d worn one of those dresses with no back like he loved. And it was definitely not an occasion where he could afford to not keep his hands to himself.

Seeing you around the kids and hearing how you’d talked about him to Agnes wasn’t making it any easier.

Another boy is standing on the steps in the pool, looking like he’s poised to jump in. But then he looks at the two of you, gasping when he spots you. “Y/n!”

“Hey, buddy,” you wave, standing at the edge of the pool. “This is Rafe. He used to be a swimmer like you.”

“Really? Sup, Rafe,” he says, moving his green goggles off of his eyes. Rafe used to have a pair just like that. “What events did you do?”

“U-uh,” Rafe stutters. “Well, water polo, mostly. I did 200 free for swim, though.”

“Me too! We should race some time. Before I go to the Olympics. Miss Y/n said I can go in 2028.”

And with that, Barron puts his goggles back on, jumping into the water.

—

It felt weirdly domestic to Rafe to be here like this, shooting the shit with Beau like he was some sort of established adult, watching you walk around the lavish backyard with Beckham following you around like a puppy. Barron was always asking you to watch him swim, even calling Rafe’s name a few times, too. He felt like the two of you were married or something, over at some friends’ house for dinner, playing practice with their kids.

You’d sent him plenty of pictures with the kids, the exclusive versions with their faces uncovered, which you couldn’t post on your Instagram story. Apparently, Beau’s father (and therefore, all of his descendants) was pretty important. You told Rafe that the NDA you’d signed when you started working was over an inch thick. But nothing could prepare him for how much he loved watching you with them in person.

“You know, I had a lisp when I was a kid,” Rafe says, eyes following Beckham across the yard. “But it went away after a while.”

Beau just looks at him oddly. “Okay?”

“I just—because of Beckham’s thing with Rs,” Rafe clarifies.

“Oh,” Beau says, nodding disinterestedly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Agnes said—yeah, you’re right. He’ll be fine,” Rafe rushes.

Beau changes the subject. “So, Y/n told me you’re in real estate as well. Or trying to be?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, sitting up straight in his patio chair. “My father owns a company, back in mine and Y/n’s hometown. I’ve worked there since I was fifteen. I’m finishing up school this year before I head back to get started.”

“Nice,” Beau praises. “What’s the market like back there?”

“Good, yeah. Although, it’s really all I know,” he realizes, as he says it. Beau looks at him questioningly, and Rafe switches gears. “Um, but I’m sure it’s nothing like you do out here. I mean—“

Rafe gestures to the house around them, Beau smiling proudly.

“Yeah, we do alright,” he says. Rafe is eerily reminded of his father. But Beau's not exaggerating—Rafe had looked up their house on Zillow in the bathroom ten minutes ago. He had gawked, especially because that was an estimate, and he could tell it was a lowball. “So, you’re for sure going back?”

“Yes,” Rafe says immediately, like somehow someway his dad is around to hear him right now. There’s never room for hesitation when it comes to his father. Especially now.

“Even with Y/n staying out here?” Beau presses.

“Yeah, we’re um… we’re working on that. I’m not sure if she’s decided yet,” Rafe says honestly.

“Well. Let me know if you ever need anything out here, Rafe. Y/n clearly really cares for you. We love having her with us, and we’d do anything to make that an easier choice for her. Especially with the baby coming.”

Rafe blanches. “The baby?”

“Agnes is still very early on, but we’re planning ahead. If Y/n can graduate and go full-time with us right around when Agnes gives birth, that’d help us out a lot. So, if you’re ever looking—”

Rafe can feel the panic clawing up this throat, his dad’s voice practically yelling in his head right now. 'She’s going to have you following her around in California like a little lap dog in a fucking purse.'

“Beau. Sorry. Wow, I really—first of all, congratulations. I had no idea Agnes was expecting,” Rafe blurts, looking over to where you’re sitting on the grass. “And thank you so much for the offer, really. But that won’t… I’m moving home. Y/n and I are talking about what’s next for both of us but, that’s me for sure.”

Beau nods. “I see. Well. If not for her, then for you, Rafe. You could make a killing out here, compared to whatever your dad is getting in the Outside Banks.”

“Outer Banks.”

“Exactly,” Beau says, smirking at Rafe. Rafe keeps his eyes trained on you, unsure of what to say anymore. You finally spot him, giving him an easy smile. One he doesn’t return.

Why didn’t you tell him?

—

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @amourtentiaa @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @arvinrussellseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46

#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks netflix #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #rafe outer banks #she writes

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animeangst · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu Captains Reacting to their S/O’s Insecurities in a Bathing Suit

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𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Haikyuu Captains

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Headcanons

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Body Image

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 883

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Welcome back to my summer of angst(ish) with some headcanons. I thought what would summer be without some haikyuu captains being supportive when you feel like crap >:L

Feel free to request both for my summer event (here) and just in general!

Headcanons below the cut

Daichi

Daichi has big dad energy and we all know it. As soon as you told him he was on the lookout to tell you how amazing you are at every turn.

He offered to do just about anything he could think of. Want different bathing suits? Don’t want to go to the beach/pool anymore?

He left all of the decisions to you; he wanted to make sure you were comfortable and ready for anything that you chose

Daichi would stop asking you to go to the beach and such for a while, and would let you come to him if you wanted to go

If you did want to go he made sure that you knew that you looked in amazing in whatever you chose to wear that day

Kuroo

Kuroo would try to “break you out” of your comfort zone by inviting you and a bunch of people to the beach (this obviously upsets you)

Oh god does he feel bad about it though. He thought it would help you, ya know condition you to feel comfortable

This was in no way shape or form out of malice. Kuroo had read it in a book that that was something that could help; he only wanted the best for you

After this incident he tool a step back and felt like a terrible boyfriend; he wanted to give you the space that you rightfully deserved

Kuroo made sure to send you flowers and little gifts for however long you needed some space for and he definitely went out of his way to make you felt as beautiful as possible once you came back

Oikawa

Oikawa was appalled when you told him you were self conscious (in a joking way). His y/n had nothing and he means NOTHING to be insecure about

Oikawa loved every inch of you no matter how you felt or looked, and me made sure that you knew that

Oikawa would even coordinate bathing suits with you; he thought that if the two of you matched you would feel a bit less self conscious as he would be in a similar color or pattern

Oikawa made it a fun outing to find stuff that you were more comfortable in when you go out and to find the correlating match for him

The two of you started to slay at every gathering (as if you weren’t already)

Bokuto

Bokuto was always very excited to go to the beach or pool with you; it was his favorite summer activity

Of course Bo thought you were beautiful in anything you wore, and he especially liked you in his favorite bathing suit he bought you last summer as an incentive to go near the water with him

Once you brought up to him that you felt self conscious when you went to the beach and such, Bokuto even suggested that the two of you stopped going

He didn’t want you to feel bad because of him, and he slightly blamed himself for not realizing, and pushing you to come to the beach with him

In order to make it up to you, Bokuto got you a beautiful cover up in your favorite color, he thought that if you wanted to you would take it off and if you didn’t you would still wear beach appropriate clothes underneath; a swimsuit or not.

Ushijima

Ushijima never really noticed or understood that you were self conscious in a bathing suit

In his mind there was nothing to be self conscious of, you looked amazing no matter what you wore

After you told him you felt this way he made sure to go out of his way to compliment you any chance he could; although these compliments were not about your body

Ushijima would often compliment the color or the style of the bathing suit you chose; he did not want to bring attention to your body, as he did not want to make you uncomfortable

His compliments were sometimes awkward and clunky such as “I love polka dots” but you knew he was trying his best and that he did really want you to feel beautiful

Kita

Kita is a kind of silent supporter type. He would not go out of his way to point out your body or things in that nature

Although he does take it to heart when you tell him that you feel self conscious

Kita can be very blunt sometimes and one of his first reactions is something along the lines of “There is no need to feel like that” and he genuinely means it; but he also understands it is not as simple as that

Kita is one to give you more physical affection (like hand holding and resting his arm on your lap) than to verbally compliment you. He wants you to feel safe and comfortable when you are with him.

He felt like it would mean more to show you that you are loved and beautiful than it would be to say it a million times over

Any time the two of you went to the beach or pool Kita would make sure to stay close, often times with his arm around you (or if you are not comfortable with that shoulders touching) at all times

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu captains #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #kuroo testuro #oikawa tooru #daichi hcs #kita haikyuu #kuroo #ushijima scenarios #bokuto

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gxdsfavgal · 3 years

Note

Can you write one where reader and peter are 18 and attend midtown and they go to france like in ffh, but no mysterio, and reader wears a red dress

https://pin.it/79NlMnm

and gets hit on a lot at a dinner and MJ, Flash (he’s friends w them), Ned, and Betty tease peter about being jealous and it ends in possessive smut?

BASICALLY A WHOLE BUNCH OF JEALOUS!PETER thank you:)))

That Dress

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem stark!reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, crazy amount of ‘bub’ pet names, language, SMUT, sexual intercourse (female receiving from male), possessiveness, choking, spitting, degradation, raw sex (wrap it up kids), dom!peter

A/N: Sorry if my French is horrible, I barely know any!! Also, I am not good at writing smut LMAOOO

GIF by @zendayamybabe

It was our senior trip just before we all graduated and went off to college, a few days ago we boarded a plane and wounded up in a rotten hotel in Italy.

Luckily, we were able to get a refund and since I have plugs with many people all over the world because of my late father’s last name, I was able to get the senior class a much better hotel in France.

For the first few days, all the seniors did tourist stuff like take pics and try the new foods. We were able to roam around with each other.

It was now the last night of the two week trip and Peter, MJ, Ned, Betty, and Flash decided that we all should have a nice dinner.

I was able to book us a reservation at the Monsieur Bleu.

Once I told the group what time we were going we all decided to get all dressed up. My roommate for the trip is MJ since there were still teacher chaperones, but MJ is one of my best friends so of course I didn’t mind. Peter and Ned stayed in a room a few down the hall from us. Flash stayed with that annoying kid Remy that grew so much during the blip, and Betty stayed with Zoha.

Peter of course wasn’t mad that we can’t stay in a room together, lord if we did have a room together I don’t think we would ever leave.

MJ and I started to get ready, I lended her a dress since she didn’t bring any. I got to fix her hair, it was almost a similar hair style to mine so she just told me she’ll do it herself.

I was finally done with fixing up MJ so now it was my turn. I bought this gorgeous dress at a boutique in the city, it was a perfect summer dress.

It had this gorgeous red fabric with small flowers on it, the neckline was a sweetheart cut with the edges ruffled. The straps on the shoulders matched the rest of the dress, ruffled too.

It was just stunning. I put it on and checked myself in the mirror. It showed all the right parts, and hugged all the right parts.

The end of the dress was way above my knee, it was short but very cute.

I paired it with some straw platform sandals and some of my favorite jewelry.

“Peter is going to freak when he sees you in that.” MJ widened her eyes from the bed as she predicts my boyfriends reaction.

“Why? Is it bad? Too showy? I should change.”

“No y/n, you look fine. I meant that he was going to freak in a good way.” She chuckled, getting up from the bed so we can put on our shoes and grab our things to go.

We all decided to meet in the main lobby of the hotel at 6pm sharp. MJ and I went down to the lobby with all of our stuff, our canvas tote bags, sunglasses, and other essentials for the night.

We finally got out of the elevator, and went looking for the group.

We finally found them, and wow Peter looked amazing.

He was wearing a white button up and black pants that accentuated his toned body. He recently has been training a lot at the compound so he has gained a lot of muscle.

The sleeves seemed a tad bit tight on him because of how big he got, and just those abs. I wanted to strip him down right there and then.

“W-Wow, you look amazing bubby” Peter held me out by my waist to see everything, giving me a twirl and all.

“And you bubs, look fine as fuck.” I kissed him right under his earlobe as his cheeks began to flush.

“You are heavenly.” he kissed my cheek repeatedly.

“Enough you love birds. I want to eat!” Flash interrupted with his loud voice and a clap of his hands.

We all giggled and went to the bikes that the hotel provided. We hopped on our individual bikes headed towards the restaurant.

The breeze against our skin as the late sun was beginning to set. The orange tint in the sky was beamed on us.

We finally arrived at the building, we locked up our bikes and headed on into the tall building so we can go to the rooftop for our reservation.

We got seated out on the patio, with an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower. The structures lights were being turned on for the night.

We all sat at one table, Peter next to me and MJ on the other side of me. Ned, Betty, and Flash sat across from us.

We were taking our pictures, selfies, and Snapchat videos of our view of Paris. Peter had us send pictures of to May and Happy, while I was sending pictures to my mum and Morgan.

The view was gorgeous, our seats, my friends looked amazing, and my boyfriend is fucking hot. Everything was perfect for this dinner.

“Bonjour beauté [Hello beauty]” A man said from the table behind us as we looked at the menu.

I turned to see the man, and he seemed very nice. Looked a little older than us, but good looking.

“Oh um, Hi. Bonjour.” I scrambled out, hopefully saying the right words.

“Ah. You are from America? Oui?” The man asked me as my friends and Peter were talking amongst themselves.

“Yes, our senior trip.” I nodded.

“Tu es une très jolie fille [you are a very beautiful girl]” the stranger grumbled.

“I- Um. I think you’re saying I’m pretty?” I felt Peter shift next to me, I was now able to tell that he was listening in on the conversations. “Thank you.”

“parle-moi de toi, jolie fille [tell me about yourself, pretty girl]” The man lightly dragged a finger down my arm.

“Peter. I think that random French man I hitting on you girlfriend.” I heard Ned whisper loudly.

“Peen Parker can’t stop his own girlfriend from getting flirted with!” Flashed laughed. I knew Peter was going to get jealous.

“Oh umm. How do I say this? J’ai dix-huit ans [I am eighteen]. Umm. Je veux être un Engineering Technician [I want to be a Engineering Technician].” I answered the stranger. It seemed like he was sitting with his friends.

“Hey the waiter is here.” MJ told me, I smiled to the guy and turned back to the table to order my food.

Everyone seemed awkward, like they were trying to hide something and I knew what it was. Peter on the other hand was stiff in his seat, his face was a little red, and the vein on his neck became prominent.

“Hey do you want anything to drink?” I nudged Peter.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“I was asking if you want anything to drink.” I repeated myself.

“Anything.” he said blankly, just tearing small pieces of the table bread and plopping it into his mouth.

I turned to the waiter. “Umm and nous aurons une bouteille de ummm— Ah Louis Roederer Cristal please. [Umm and we will have a bottle of ummm— Ah Louis Roederer Cristal please.]” I said with a smile, handing the waiter the wine menu.

“Ooo wine, I like your taste” Betty outed as she was attached to Neds arm.

“Hey, I don’t want you to pay for all of this. I’ll chip in.” MJ said with a soft smile from next to me.

“No MJ it’s alright, I got it. You guys can order as much as you want.” I told the table, they gave me wide smiles as Peter sat their quietly.

“Cristal est cher, joli. Êtes-vous sûr que vos amis peuvent se le permettre? [Cristal is expensive, pretty one. Are you sure your friends can afford that?]” The french stranger said from behind me.

“I’m paying for the whole thing.” I said with a smile to the stranger.

“Ah, you are wealthy” He nodded his head.

“I guess you can say I am.” I chuckled.

I heard the waiter set down the wine with 6 glasses onto the table. I turned around and they were already pouring themselves some of the cristal.

We each held our wine glasses.

“Cheers!” we clinked out glasses all together at the center of the table, the white wine sloshing around the glass. We brought the glass to our lips, taking a small sip to taste.

“Oh this is amazing! Everyone say ‘thank you y/n Stark’! ” Flash exclaimed as he was talking videos for his Instagram.

“This is one of the best wines i’ve ever had. The worst being the communion wine from church.” we all chuckled at MJ’s joke.

“Do you like it?” I pushed my elbow into Peter’s side.

“Yeah.” He dryly said, he quickly engaged in the conversation that Ned and Betty were having. “

“So you are Stark?” the stranger behind me asked.

“Well yes. I am the daughter of Tony Stark. What’s your name?” I chuckled as I sipped my wine.

“Antoine. Your name is pretty y/n.” He said, his fingers drumming on my forearm.

“It’s really not that pretty, but thank you Antoine.” I heard MJ whisper something to Peter about him touching me.

I nodded but then soon turned around back to my table as I heard the waiter was handing out our dishes.

The group took our photos of the food as we saw the fireworks go off from the Eiffel Tower. We quickly began to eat the small proportion of our food.

“Mmmm very small but amazing” I said as I was indulging the flavors and textures.

“That’s what she’s said” Ned and Flash said in sync, earning a laugh from the rest of us.

“Do you like your food?” I ask Peter who seemed to stare off into the sky a lot.

“Yeah, It’s good.” He clenched his jaw.

We all talked together as we finished the bottle of cristal and our food. It was getting late and we had to ride our bikes back to the hotel so we began to pack up.

“Miss Stark?” Antoine asked.

“Yes?” I hummed at I stood up from my chair.

“Puis-je avoir votre numéro? [May I have your number?]” the man asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Garçon stupide, parlant à mon. [stupid boy, talking to my y/n.]” Peter mumbled under his breath.

I stared at him with wide eyes, and my mouth open wide, I was unable to say anything.

“Qu'est-ce que tu m'as dit, petit garçon? [What did you say to me, little boy?]” Antoine asked.

“Elle est à moi, pas à toi. [she’s mine, not yours.]” Peter said sternly.

“Tu ne peux pas la posséder, ce n'est pas un chien. [You can’t own her, she’s not a dog.]” Antoine scoffed.

“nous avons terminé maintenant. Je vous suggère d'arrêter de flirter avec ma copine. [we are done now. I suggest you stop flirting with my girlfriend.]” Peter said from next to me, his hand gripping my wrist tightly.

Peter’s other hand was balled into a fist, his veins popping out more. His jaw was clenched, and his muscles were tense.

“Petite amie? c'est surprenant. [girlfriend? that’s surprising.]” Antoine laughed.

The group quickly left along with Peter and I. He kept his grip on my wrist, basically pulling me out of the restaurant and into the elevator.

The elevator was awkward, not silent at all since the others were trying to make some conversation so the air wasn’t so tense.

We got to our bikes and immediately started biking back to the hotel.

Once we arrived at the hotel, Peter was basically pulling me to the room. Ned followed us but Peter closed the door on his best friend.

“I- I’ll just be with Betty!” Ned said from the other side of the door.

Silence rung in the bedroom for a few minutes. I stood there playing with the bottom of my dress as Peter sat on a chair with his elbows on his knees, and his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“What’s wrong Peter?” I asked him calmly.

“You know what’s wrong, y/n.”

“I don’t understand.” I said as I took a step towards him.

“Don’t fucking play dumb.” He rolled his tongue against the side of his cheek.

“I’m not playing du—“ He stood up from his seat, his hand quickly grasping my neck. He walked me backward until my back hit against the wall.

“Fucking slut.” he spat his saliva right onto my collarbone, it dropped down to the tops of my breasts. “Want Antoine? Go ahead.”

“Peter we should tal—“

“I’m fucking tired of people trying to get with my y/n.” he grumbled into my ear. “Nobody gets to talk to my y/n.”

The use of ‘my’ could make cum right there and then.

His lips assaulted the tops of my breasts, licking up his dripping saliva and leaving bruises. I whimpered at his lips and tongue touching me, my pussy aching and pooling in my panties.

“You think you can just open you legs for random guys?” his tightened his grip on my throat.

“O-Only for you.” I was able to say.

“Only for me huh?” He pulls me away from the wall and slamming my back into the couch. He swiftly takes off his shirt, and standing in between my knees.

He pulls down my dress strap and the top of my dress, revealing my bare chest. His head dodges down to my nipple, tongue twirling, lips sucking.

My back aches against him, giving him more access to my mounds. As he was sucking on one, his fingers were pinching and fiddling with my other nipple. Pinching, flicking, and switching to the other to give it the same attention.

“Peter!” I grinded my hips upwards, trying to get friction onto my clit from his bare chest. I was a moaning mess.

He turned his attention away from my mounds, he quickly began to take off my dress, leaving me in just my black thong.

His hands now pushing down my hips, keeping me away from any friction.

“Pete!” I moaned out as I was clenching around air.

“Needy ass whore.” he spat more of his saliva onto my stomach. “My whore.”

His tongue pressed onto the skin of my stomach, collecting his saliva back into his mouth. His face moved back up to me.

“Open.” he demanded.

I obeyed and opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue.

He spat his saliva onto my tongue, with a smile I closed my mouth and swallowed.

“That’s my girl.” he pressed his lips against mine. His tongue poking around and asking for an entrance.

I opened my mouth and our tongues explored each other’s mouths, twirling and sucking on each other.

He then began to slowly put his body weight onto me, with a thrust of my hips I was able to get some sort of relief.

As we made out, Peter snaked his hand between the two of us. His fingers reaching the cloth over my sensitive bud. He began to slowly rub circles onto it, my mouth opening at the sudden feel.

“Pete, I- I-“

“Finish your sentence bub, you got it.” he applied more pressure onto the bit.

“I- I need you.” I finally got out.

He stopped all of his movements, no more sloppy kisses, no more rubbing.

He removed his fingers away from my clit, lightly dragging them from my pubic bone, over my belly button, through the valley of my breast, up my neck and landing at my chin.

“Who do you belong to?” he held my chin in place, making sure I keep eye contact with him.

“You.” I looked up at him with gleaming eyes, his pupils were blown with lust.

“That’s right. You are only mine.” he accentuated his possessive words.

I nodded with a whine.

He stood between my legs, unbuckling his belt and stripping down to just his boxers. I sat up, leaning onto my elbows to get a better view of my boyfriend.

He looked at me in the eyes, his brown hazel eyes weren’t looking anywhere else but my eyes. His fingers hooked onto his own boxers as he pulled them down.

My eyes headed straight for his hard dock that slapped against his lower stomach. My mouth began to water, my lace underwear began to pool once again from the view of the perfect average thick and veiny dick.

“Since you wanted to be a little fucking slut earlier, I’m gonna fuck my tight little pussy so good, you’re not going to be able to make the flight back home.” he chuckled as he began to stroke himself with his hand.

I began to get so desperate that one of my hands drifted over my underwear, putting pressure onto my clit and rubbing my slits.

“Did I fucking say to touch yourself?” His hand pounced onto my wrist, stopping my motions on my core. “Fucking brat.”

“Bub please.” I whined, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Please what bubs? I need words.” he said with his other hand holding my chin in place to look at him.

My thighs began to rub against each other, trying to relieve the sensitivity.

“Touch me Pete. Fuck. Just fucking touch me please.” I pleaded out as I closed my eyes in embarrassment at the amount of desperation.

“Anything for my girl.” He quickly ripped off my lace underwear, giving me marks from where it was pulled off from. “Now, are you wet because of me or because of that fucking man at the restaurant?”

“You. Just you bub.” I looked at him with a grin as he looked at me with his tongue rolling on the side of his cheek.

He pulled me from my hips to the edge of the bed and began stroking his length onto my slit, collecting my wetness as a lubricant. He began to line up his cock at the entrance of my core.

He looked at me with affirmation, with a nod of my head he began to slowly push the tip of him inch by inch.

Groans coming from the both of us as he stretches my pussy out with his thick length. Once he finally bottomed out, we stayed in the position for a few seconds before I gave the ‘okay’ that I have adjusted to his thickness.

Peter began to slowly move his hips away from me and snapping it into me. He began to pick up his speed, causing me moans to flow out of our mouths.

“You feel so good. Look at you, being fucked and you still look heavenly.” he hyped me with with every thrust of his hips, his hands on my breasts.

“Fuck. Fuck. Pete, oh god.” I moaned out a few times repeatedly from the amount of pleasure I was getting.

“Who’s fucking pussy is this?” he asked with beads of sweat forming on the both of us.

“Y-Yours.” I stuttered out.

“That’s fucking right. Your mine, and this fucking pussy is mine.” he pulled his hips all the way back, where his tip was barely in me before he quickly thrusted his dick back into my core.

“Fucking hell.” I arched my back and clenched down onto his cock.

“Cum for me bub. Cum on my dick.” He encouraged me as he peppered kisses onto my breasts and collar bones.

The knot in my stomach unraveled, sending shocks through my body. My legs shook and my view became white, my high was out of this world.

“Good baby.” He kissed my lips as he kept thrusting in and out of me, as for I was still coming down from my high.

“Cum in me bubby.” I mumbled into his lips as I pulled the hairs on the back of his head.

His thrusts became unsteady and I felt his dick twitch within me.

“Come on babe.” I encouraged him.

With a couple more snaps of his hips he was chasing his high, he emptied out his seed into my core. I felt it paint my walls, warm all around.

Once he was done he couldn’t keep himself up, causing him to drop onto me.

Our chests heaving up and down from our heavy breathing, our sweat and cum mix had us in a sticky mess.

“I’m gonna start flirting with random guys from now on to just get fucked this hard.” I said from under him.

“Don’t ever flirt with another guy.” Peter mumbled into my neck.

“I’ll think about it.” I chuckled at his comment, combing my fingers through his hair.

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kirschteinsj · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promises

Nanami x fem! reader

Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.

A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!

“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.

“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”

“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.

“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”

“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”

“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sure, dear.”

While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.

Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.

He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.

Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.

…

Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.

“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”

The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.

A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”

Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.

“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”

“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.

“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.

“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”

“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”

“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”

“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”

He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”

Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.

He glares,“God, you’re something else.”

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.

“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”

Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.

She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.

“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.

She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”

“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”

Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”

“I promise you ca-”

“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.

His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.

The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.

His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.

“I love you.”

She sighs, “I love you too.”

Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.

“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”

“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.

…

After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.

“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”

“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.

“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”

“I never do.”

The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.

“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”

“Please, be quiet.”

318 notes · View notes

justoneofthoseghosts · 3 years

Note

Brettsey + unbind me

Sylvie groans as she hears her alarm blaring.

Is it already 7 am? She thinks. It feels like her head just hit the pillow.

She groans again sticking out her hand and blindly searching for her phone on the night stand. She manages to grasp the offending item and is about hit snooze when she realizes two things from looking at the lit up screen:

One - it’s only 3 am and two - it’s not her alarm but rather someone calling.

Who the heck would call her at this God forsaken hour? Sylvie considers ignoring it but her better judgement rules. It could be an emergency. She hits the accept button, yawning.

“Hello,” she greets groggily, her voice hoarse from sleep.

The person on the other end of the line speaks for a few moments and Sylvie’s eyes grow wider with every word she hears.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she confirms before ending the call.

What the heck, she thinks.

She quickly scrambles out of bed and grabs her purse from the chair, not bothering to change from her pajamas. She moves into the hallway, getting her coat from the rack and putting on a pair of slip on sneakers. Lastly, she picks up her keys from the catch all on the table near the door. She swiftly locks the door and flies off into the night.

“Tell me how this happened?”

Sylvie lifts an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s by the open door staring at Matt and Kelly, who are both slumped in chairs, looking worse for wear.

They were supposed to be at Kelly’s bachelor’s party or at least, that’s what Matt told her earlier in the evening. Sylvie didn’t ask what they were doing but she’s sure it didn’t include a pit stop here.

“Brett! You’re here,” Kelly says a bit too loudly when he notices her standing there.

Sylvie bites her lip trying hard to stifle a laugh. She tries to remain stern but based on Kelly’s reaction, he’s clearly had too much to drink and she finds it hard to keep a straight face.

“Hey man,” Kelly nudges Matt and whispers conspiratorially, “Brett’s here to save us.”

Matt’s head suddenly snaps up, searching around the tiny room for Sylvie. When he spots her, he breaks out into a wide grin.

“I knew you’d come,” he remarks, still smiling like a doofus, his eyes glazed over.

Sylvie lets out a snort. Trudy called to inform her that a patrol car had picked up Matt and Kelly trying to break into the Lincoln Park zoo. Thankfully, they recognized the two as CFD firefighters and brought them to the 21st district more for their safety than anything else. Trudy assured Sylvie that neither man would get booked. She sighed in relief but now, all she wants is to know why they were attempting to get into the zoo.

Sylvie walks into the room and pulls up a chair, folding her hands on the table. She gazes from Matt to Kelly, “start from the beginning.”

“So -“

“The thing is -“

They start to speak at the same time. Sylvie holds up a hand. She’s barely awake herself and trying to decipher the truth from two drunk men talking over each other isn’t going to help.

“Matt, what’s the story?” She asks, her curiosity piqued.

“See, it was a really, really normal night. We went on a uh, a uh - hey, Sev, what was that we did again?” Matt inquires as he taps Kelly on the shoulder.

“It’s called a pub crawl, Casey,” Kelly points out, his eyes drooping.

“Thank you,” Matt slaps his best friend’s arm in gratitude.

“Ow.”

Matt doesn’t bother apologizing and meets Sylvie’s gaze again, “right, so we were on a pub crawl then we went to this one place that had a The Hangover poster framed on the wall and It reminded me that Severide wanted to be stuck on a roof with Mike Tyson’s tiger.”

Sylvie takes in what her boyfriend just told her.

“So you decided to go to the zoo to -“ Sylvie trails off.

“Borrow a tiger,” Matt mentions casually as if it wasn’t a big deal and extremely normal in any circumstance.

And it’s exactly what Sylvie thought Matt would say and she can’t hold back her laughter any longer as it bubbles out of her. Jesus, she thinks, she’s glad those officers were able to stop this rather strange escapade of theirs. She can’t even imagine what would have happened had they been successful.

“Oh my God, Matt,” she wheezes once she’s able to regain some composure, “how much did you guys have to drink?”

Matt scrunches his nose as he thinks about it, “well, there was the beers from the first pub, then some whiskey, then at that little Tiki place near the river walk, we had a couple of fruit flavored shots that a bunch of sorority girls bought us.”

“Sorority girls, huh?” Sylvie quips amusedly.

Kelly responds before Matt does, “don’t worry, Brett. Casey barely looked at any of them. Also, I think they all preferred Gallo. Casey looked like the kid’s dad.”

Sylvie chokes out another laugh as Matt shoots a dirty look at Kelly, “I resent that.”

She straightens up, eyeing them both, “so let me get this straight, the two of you drink your body weight in what - Jell-O shots? - and end up thinking it’s a good idea to just waltz on over to the Lincoln Park zoo to grab a tiger and possibly drag said tiger onto a roof?”

“Yup,” the two men say in unison.

“Right,” Sylvie states. She can’t wait to tell Stella all about this, which reminds her -

“Why didn’t you call Stella?”

“Trudy said we could only call one of you so we did, uh, Rock Paper Scissors and I won.” Matt admits sheepishly.

This whole situation is one giant trip. Sylvie considers that maybe she might be dreaming so she reaches over and pinches Matt’s cheek.

“Ouch.”

Okay, not a dream then but she is definitely tired and in need of some sleep.

Sylvie stands up and beckons to them, “I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Time to head home boys. I’ll drop you off at the loft.”

Matt gets up and stumbles over to her. He holds her hand and looks into her eyes.

“I want to go home with you,” he slurs as he hugs her close, “like every day.”

Sylvie is at a loss for words. Did Matt just ask her to move in with him or rather, tell her he wants to move in with her considering he doesn’t have this own place?

She doesn’t give an affirmative instead she rubs his back and whispers, “one day.”

He smiles briefly, locking eyes with her again. His face is mere inches from hers and Sylvie leans in but before they can kiss, they hear a loud noise. They turn to the left to find Kelly passed out on the chair, snoring loudly.

They manage to wake him up and as the three of them make their way back to the front desk, Trudy smirks.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you, Trudy?” Matt asks tentatively, starting to sober up.

Trudy quirks an eyebrow.

Matt grumbles, “you already told Mouch, didn’t you?”

“Yep."

#NGL I laughed at some parts while writing this #it's totally absurd but just go with it #chicago fire #brettsey #fanfic prompt

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

Your First Fight - Akaashi, Kenma, Oikawa, Kageyama (Setter Squad)

A/N - This was for anon, I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what the heck happened to this post >-< but it’s back, and I fixed the links on the other posts as well!

Ace Edition

Word Count: 2.8k T-T

I may or may not have gotten carried away with this one (✿◠‿◠) Buckle up, and I hope u enjoy! ( ˘ ³˘)

AKAASHI –

You understand why Akaashi wanted to keep your relationship secret. Really, you did. You could already imagine the barrage of overbearing comments, and the teasing that was sure to be a distraction during practice. With Nationals just around the corner, this was the last thing you both needed.

Being the manager of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club, you know better than most just how rowdy the group could actually be. Bokuto may be the loudest one of the bunch, but all the others can be just as provoking.

And to be honest, the sneaking around was kind of hot. You can’t deny you got butterflies every time Akaashi would pull you into the equipment room for a quick make out session, or when he would give your thigh a secret squeeze under the lunch table surrounded by your friends.

But it’s been months now, and frankly, you were kind of getting tired of it. Sure, it may be slightly more convenient for the both of you, but some days you just want to hold your boyfriend’s hand down the hall without having to look over your shoulder.

You’ve only brought it up to Akaashi once before, but he brushed it off by saying it wasn’t the right time, and you were discouraged to try ever since.

You really weren’t planning to bring it up at the Tokyo Representative Playoffs… you really didn’t. But Konoha’s girlfriend showed up to cheer him on, looking so happy and proud in the stands, you couldn’t fight the tinge of envy that started to take over your body.

Akaashi was observant, and he knew you better than anyone. He could see you stealing glances into the stands, could see the tension in your shoulders whenever Konoha’s girlfriend yelled out cheers for him.

He couldn’t stop himself from following you after you told Yukie you were just going to the restroom.

“No good luck kiss?” he called out once the both of you were a safe distance from the team.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to see,” you said bitterly, not stopping for Akaashi.

Akaashi frowned. “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, why else wouldn’t you want to tell anyone about us?” you asked, you finally stopped walking, turning around to give him a hard look.

Akaashi groaned in frustration. “Do we really have to talk about this right here? Right now? I told you, it’s just easier this way.”

You scoffed, and Akaashi hated the sound. “Sorry our relationship is such an inconvenience for you.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, quickly entering the women’s bathroom, faintly hearing the sound of Bokuto calling your boyfriend’s name behind you.

Akaashi didn’t blame you for the loss against Itachiyama, but he definitely blamed himself.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked Bokuto after the game, but the ace just shrugged, too upset about the loss to really care. The whole team had all gathered their things, ready to make their way out of the gym and you still were nowhere to be found.

Akaashi’s worries were relieved, but quickly replaced with new ones when Bokuto spotted you down the hall, cornered by someone wearing a Nohebi uniform.

“So tell me, do you have you a boyfriend?” Akaashi heard him ask, and you finally noticed the team approach you. The evil gleam in your eye didn’t escape Akaashi’s attention.

“No, actually. I don’t.”

It was one thing for you to deny it to your teammates, but to other men? Akaashi shouldn’t be mad that those were the words that came out of your mouth; it was his own fault for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you’re just doing what he told you to.

But he was furious, and there was nothing that could have stopped him from grabbing you by the elbow, turning you away from the dirty little snake that dared to talk to you, and crashing his lips onto yours.

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from Akaashi, but it definitely wasn’t this. Though, you weren’t complaining, returning his kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the uncomfortable cough from the Nohebi player, and the gasps and shocked exclamations from your teammates.

All you could focus on when he pulled away was Akaashi, blue eyes staring straight into your soul, the next words tumbling out of his mouth was all you’ve wanted to hear for months.

“You’re mine. I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

KENMA –

You’ve been sitting in the same spot on Kenma’s bed for about an hour now. The room was filled with only the sounds emanating from the TV, and your boyfriend’s fingers tapping on the buttons of his controller.

Kenma always did like falling into a hole whenever he bought a new game; you’ve known this about him since you were kids. It wasn’t something you ever really minded, nor did you think it was something you wanted to change. It was a part of him that you simply accepted.

Normally, you were content with reading a book while he played, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, getting lost in different worlds. You both respected each other’s hobbies, and the fact that you could do them together in the same room worked out so perfectly.

However, you finished your book faster than you anticipated, and in your shortsightedness, you failed to bring with you a second book. You tried to read webtoons online, but the light from your phone began to strain your eyes.

“Kenma,” you whined as boredom got the best of you, and the blonde boy didn’t bother to respond, “I’m hungry. Can’t we get something to eat?”

“After,” he grunted, though there were no specifications to when ‘After’ would be.

You sighed, getting up from your spot on the bed to tinker with his things. You walk around his room, running your fingers along the books lined on his shelf, picking up frames that contained happy memories of his life.

You hear your phone ding, signaling a message and you turned to make your way back to the bed.

“Hey!” Kenma exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Could you not walk in front of the TV? I just died because of you!”

You stared at him in shock for a second. You had never heard him raise his voice before “Excuse me? So what, it’s just a stupid game.”

“It’s not a stupid game,” Kenma grumbled, his voice back to his usual soft tone, but still held a slight tinge of anger. “You know I’ve been waiting for this to be released. Can’t you just read your book and be quiet like you usually do?”

Kenma immediately knew those were the wrong words to say, regretting the way you face turned into a pout. He watched you begin to gather your things, a slight panic rising in his chest when he realizes you’re trying to leave. “You know what, let me just leave you alone, since clearly my company isn’t wanted –“

You were cut off by Kenma getting up from his spot, opening the bottom drawer of his TV stand to rummage through it. You eyed him curiously until he finally found what he was looking for; pulling out another controller that he connected to the gaming console.

He quietly took your hand, pulling you down to sit on the floor with him. You sat cross legged and confused, wondering what he was doing until he handed you the controller. You stared at it in your lap, a small smile spreading on your face at his silent apology.

He started the game on easy mode, giving you a quick rundown on the basic controls.

“I’ll order us some pizza,” he said quietly, making you give him a soft peck on the cheek.

“Pizza sounds good.”

OIKAWA –

The booming sound of Oikawa’s serves was something that will never cease to amaze you.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile your Oikawa Toru – the one that hides behind your hair during scary movies, and asks you to kill the spiders for him – with Aoba Johsai’s Oikawa Toru. To you, they were just two completely different people.

But when you were watching him practice like this, raw power coming from his usually gentle hands, you can’t help but stare at him in awe.

You don’t usually stay this late to watch him practice; on a normal day, your club activities would end at the same time and Oikawa would walk you home, but on days like today where he felt he needed the extra practice, you left him in the care of Iwaizumi.

You were a little surprised, however, when you found Iwaizumi waiting for you at your club room, claiming he really needed to get his part of his group project done by tonight, and if you could please stay and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t kill himself.

How could you say no?

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times Oikawa practiced his serve, the repetitive sound of the balls bouncing and his grunting becoming a sort of hypnotic rhythm for you. Before you knew it, the sun had BEEN down, and the moon had taken its place in the night sky.

You begin to notice the telltale signs of exhaustion, Oikawa struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving up and down, his form beginning to look sloppy.

“Alright,” you say, jumping down from your spot on the bench, “It’s time to go home.”

“One more.”

“Tsk,” you clicked your tongue, walking around collecting the balls, “It’s been hours, Toru. Rest is also a part of training, you know.”

He ignored you, grabbing another ball from the cart, but you just started taking down the volleyball net.

“What the hell are you doing? I said one more!” “And I said it’s time to go home!”

The ear-splitting sound of the volleyball slamming the floor cut through the gym, leaving you frozen in place. “You wouldn’t understand! You may be satisfied with doing the bare minimum for your practices, but my serves have to be perfect! I have to be perfect!” Oikawa’s voice echoed, glaring at you with red eyes, frustration evident on his face.

You didn’t say anything. You stared at him for a moment, then turned around and began the process of closing the gym. Oikawa also chose to stay silent, brown eyes trained on the floor as he gathered his belongings, silently following you once you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The walk home was quiet; the lack of a reaction on your part weighing more heavily on Oikawa than he expected. He snuck a glance at you, but you kept your head forward, steel faced and neutral.

Each step he took was more agonizing than the last, knowing he shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. Your house was beginning to come into view, and he couldn’t leave the night like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and your sharp inhale let him know that you heard him.

“I know.”

“I’m exhausted...” and you know he wasn’t just talking about volleyball.

You finally faced him, and gently grabbed his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you snaked an arm around his middle. He felt all the tension his body melt away, half expecting to find it puddled around his feet.

“I know,” you said, “But if you ever talk to me like that again, you’re getting a flying fist to the face.”

Oikawa laughed, drawing one out from your own mouth. He placed a kiss on your temple, and gave you full permission to cut his head off if he ever lashed out at you again. He always appreciated how he never had to tell you anything… you always just knew.

KAGEYAMA –

Kageyama had a pretty good weekend, if you asked him.

He woke up early on Saturday morning to go for a run, then got home and had pork curry for lunch. He figures it’s been a while since he’s brushed up on his basic skills, so he went to the local gym and practiced some drills. On Sunday, he was dragged by Hinata to a study group with Yachi, and admittedly gotten more homework done there than he would have on his own.

It was a nice, productive weekend. He entered his Monday with this positive vibe following him around, even morning practice went by smoothly.

He went about his usual routine of waiting for you by the school gates so he could walk you to class. He only waited about ten minutes until you came into view, and Kageyama subconsciously straightened his posture. He tried to push down the little tickle at the pit of his belly when you made eye contact, not wanting to admit he was excited to see you.

“Good morning,” he said as soon as you approached, but his entire mood completely shifted downward when you simply walked passed him.

Where was his usual ‘Good morning, Tobio-kun!’? Why didn’t you stop to give him his morning peck on the cheek? Why didn’t you let him carry your bag for you on the way to class?

Did he do something wrong?

He was so confused, questions running through his head as he simply trailed after you silently.

“Is everything alright?” He tried to ask once you reached your class, but you just gave him a stern look, turning away from him to enter your classroom and take your seat. He was left there looking like an idiot.

He couldn’t focus in class, trying to wrack his brain on why you could possibly be upset. Did he forget an anniversary? Doubtful, you’ve only just started dating. Were you on your period? Kageyama shook his head. Even he knew that would literally be the worst question to ask.

The bell rang to signal the start of lunch, and Kageyama hurriedly gathered his things so he can go find you.

He didn’t have to look very far, though, because when he exited his classroom, he spotted you down the hall.

The second you saw him, you marched your way over; the dark aura you were giving off had made everyone steer clear of you.

Kageyama gulped, wanting to run away before he remembered that he also wanted to talk to you.

“Y/N –“ “You know, I was going to ignore you the whole day, but seeing you this morning just really pissed me off, and unlike you, I actually can’t stand not talking to you.”

Kageyama blinked, happy to hear your voice, but confused at the words you were saying. “Unlike me? What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms and huffed. “Where the hell were you all weekend?”

Again, Kageyama blinked stupidly. “What do you mean? I was home.”

This seemed like the wrong answer, because now your hands moved to your hips, and for some reason, you were ten times more intimidating like that. “So? You never thought to shoot me a text? Or give me a call?”

“Was I supposed to?” Kageyama asked, and the genuine curiosity in his voice made you face palm.

“Did you not want to?” You asked, though there was no hurt behind the question.

“I did.” “So why didn’t you?”

Kageyama thought about it for a moment. “I went to the gym instead.”

You let out a groan of frustration. Honestly, you should have known. It took you three tries before Kageyama even realized you were confessing to him. It took him even longer to realize that he actually had to tell you he liked you back, and that you had no idea that him buying you yogurt meant he was asking you out.

“Tobio-kun,” you said patiently, “If you’re thinking of me, you should text me or call me to let me know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Even if I have nothing interesting to say?”

You nodded, looping your arm through his and starting your walk to the cafeteria. “Even then. I just want to hear from you.”

Kageyama nodded his head in understanding. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

Your phone never stopped blowing up after that conversation. RIP your notifications.

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