andysbubba

[andysbubba]

reposting with my olddddd taglist:

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needy

summary | the two times ari needs you, and that one time you needed him.

pairing | ari levinson x reader

warnings | just a tiny bit of angst, an emotionally constipated ari levinson, something about unrequited love and finally a bestfriends to lovers trope!

A/N | hi, i’m haney and i’ve been gone from this app for a long time and i missed writing so here’s a little story that has been ageing in my drafts that i finally finished! hope u enjoy this read! ❤️

—————

ONE

The first time: when he was drunk

"Don't go." He starts, his voice already sounding so vulnerable that you know you'd give him anything he'd ask for. "Please."

You stop in your steps, the hand on the doorknob dropping down to your side and you turn around to face him. You helped him get into bed after a long night out, and you were planning to leave or maybe just crash on his couch since its already late and you're too lazy to get back home.

"Don't have to stay the whole night if you don't want to. Just keep me company till I sleep."

"Okay, grumpy." You traced back your steps, and you tug your jacket off, leaving it on his nightstand before you climb up his bed and settle in right beside him.

His eyes stayed on you the whole time and he shifts closer to your side.

"How ya feelin', grump?"

"I'm tired." He snuggles up into your side and throws an arm around your stomach. "How are you always so warm and soft?" he questioned, like the question had been haunting him.

You hum at his question and raise your hand up to his head and run your fingers through his hair. "How are you always so cuddly when you're drunk?"

He mumbles out something you couldn't really understand and he turns his head to nuzzle into the fabric of your shirt.

You nod mindlessly, paying no attention to what he’s trying to say and ran your fingers through his hair, watching him drift off — heavy limbs, steady breath, muttered nonsense.

---

When you're up the next morning, the spot beside you was already empty. You had no doubt Ari was nursing a shitty hangover from all the drinks he had yesterday. He called you pretty late last night with his words all slurry and draggy. So naturally as his friend, you went to the bar to pick him up and bring him home.

He was grumbling in the kitchen, trudging around with heavy footsteps. As you entered the kitchen, he nods at you in acknowledgement. Too hungover for good mornings.

“How was your date yesterday, twinkie?” he asked, casual, but not really.

You told him it was nice. And he’s cute.

Ari nodded, silent.

He didn’t ask anything else, just rubbed his temple and reached out for the Advil.

You let it go. Pretended not to notice the tight set of his jaw. The way he couldn’t quite look at you.

He didn’t say it, but you knew.

He hated it.

————

TWO

The second time: when his mom was in the hospital

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, bear. I've got you." Ari crashed straight into your arms the moment he spots you striding into the waiting room. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, and his arms tightened around you. His body shakes as tiny, soft sobs leaves his lips and it sounds muffled as he cries into your neck. "I've got you, babe. Just take deep breaths for me, okay?"

He collapsed into your arms like something inside him had snapped. You held him tight, fingers in his hair, whispering that it was okay — even when you weren’t sure it was.

She was in surgery. Something routine, your colleagues had said. But fear doesn’t listen to facts when it’s someone you love on the table.

So you took him up to your office, let him drink your last Capri Sun and eat the Mars bar you’d been saving.

“Apple juice? Really?” he grumbled, straw between his teeth.

“Stop acting like my nephew and maybe I’ll get you a beer next time.”

He didn’t laugh. But he leaned into you. Head on your shoulder. Arms curled close.

You kept scratching at his scalp, trying to quiet the shaking in his chest.

“I want to be there when she wakes up,” he said quietly.

“You will be. I promise. I told them to call me if anything comes up."

———

When you brought him to the recovery room, his mom lit up.

"Y/n, sweetheart!"

You smiled, embracing her with the same warmth she greeted you with.

“Mrs Levinson!”

The permanent frown on his face eased, softened into something you didn’t see often — a smile. Small, but real. His shoulders dropped, a visible exhale of all the fear he’d carried since the phone call.

“She’s really okay?” he asked, his voice cracking even as he tried to hold himself together.

You nodded from your spot at the foot of the bed, watching the way he reached for her hand like he still didn’t believe it.

“She’s more than okay, bear.”

Mrs. Levinson gave him a tired but loving smile, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere yet. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Ari laughed — breathy and weak. And you could see it in his eyes, just for a flicker of the little boy he used to be, still afraid of losing the people he loves.

You stepped back a little, giving them their space, heart pulling in your chest.

Because you’d never seen Ari cry before that morning. Not like that. Not that kind of broken.

But he let you hold him.

He called you.

He let himself fall apart in your arms — the same arms he once called just “warm and soft,” like that was all they were.

But now?

Now he knew what they meant.

Now you knew what they meant.

It wasn’t just the comfort.

It was safety.

It was home.

————

A while later, you both stepped out of the hospital room, and Ari was quiet. Too quiet.

The halls buzzed with fluorescent light and the low murmur of hospital life, but he walked beside you like he couldn’t feel any of it. His hand brushed yours once. Didn’t take it. Just… brushed it. Like a thought half-formed.

You stopped just outside the vending machines.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the linoleum floor.

Then:

“You didn’t have to show up today.”

You blinked. “Of course I did.”

“I know but…” He swallowed. His voice went hoarse. “You had a date. With Barber. You could’ve ignored the call.”

“I never would.”

He finally looked at you. And God, the ache in his eyes — it could flatten cities.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said, low. “I don’t even know what I can be to you.”

Your breath caught.

A pause. He shifts his weight, stares at the floor like it did something wrong.

“You always do,” he says, like it’s a problem. “Show up. Stay. Even when I don’t say anything. Even when I’m… not exactly good company.”

You don’t say anything, just wait. Because you know him. You know.

Then, quieter:

“I keep thinkin’ one day you’ll stop.”

You blink.

He finally looks at you — and the look in his eyes wrecks you.

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

—————

THREE

The one time you needed ari

You’d been holding it all in for weeks — the weight of pretending everything was fine, juggling your job, Ari’s complicated family situation, and your own swirling mess of feelings.

The late nights at the hospital, watching Ari pacing the halls, biting his lip every time he got a call from his mother’s doctors.

The phone calls you got from Ari, voice tight and rough, asking about your day, but really needing to hear a calm voice to steady his own nerves.

And then there was Dr. Andy Barber — the “date” you told Ari about just to keep things simple, to keep him at arm’s length. But every time you saw Andy, you felt a pang — a reminder that Ari was watching, waiting, and the tension between you was growing unbearable.

That day at the hospital, you were exhausted, emotionally raw from being the “strong one” for everyone — for Ari, for his mother, even for yourself. When the surgery was over, the relief should have settled in.

But instead, when you stepped outside and saw Ari — looking smaller somehow, his usual grumpy armor cracked — all the fear, all the loneliness you’d stuffed down came crashing out.

You weren’t just tired of the hospital, the stress, the waiting.

You were tired of pretending you could do it all alone.

And Ari… he was the only person who ever saw through it. You didn’t mean to cry.

You’d planned to smile, say goodbye, maybe even tell him to call you later. But your body betrayed you the moment you saw him waiting outside the hospital — leaning against his car, arms crossed, that same tired scowl on his face. The one he always wore when he didn’t know how to say “I’m worried about you.”

“Ari,” you tried to say, but your voice cracked right through the middle.

He looked up.

And that’s all it took.

The tightness in your chest collapsed, and everything you’d held in — all the stress, the exhaustion, the pretending — came pouring out in one stupid, gasping breath.

“I can’t—” you started, before your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stop the sob that clawed up your throat.

Ari was at your side before you could hide it. No words, no hesitation. Just two arms wrapping around you, strong and steady and home.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you into him like it was instinct. “Hey, I got you.”

You shook your head against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket like you were drowning.

“I’m so tired, bear.” Your voice was hoarse, barely there. “Everything’s been so much. I didn’t even know how bad it was till I saw you.”

He held you tighter. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other firm around your waist, grounding you like no one else could.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured into your hair. “Not right now. Just let it out, yeah?”

You broke again, face buried in his chest. Ugly sobs, hot tears. And he didn’t flinch. Didn’t let go.

Didn’t run.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, crying into the man who used to sleep on you like a pillow after too many beers. The man who once hated hospitals and late-night phone calls. The man who, for all his quiet, grumpy, impossible ways — always showed up when it counted.

Now, he was the one holding you together.

And it wasn’t until the crying started to slow that you realized he’d been whispering something over and over into your hair, like a prayer he was afraid to say out loud.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

��———

He drove you home in silence. One hand on the wheel, the other twitching like it wanted to reach for yours but didn’t dare.

You’d fallen quiet again. Your head leaning against the window. The light of passing streetlamps drawing soft shadows across your face. You looked… wrung out. Tired in a way he couldn’t fix with dumb jokes or aspirin. Not this time.

And Ari hated it. Hated that he couldn’t find the words to make it better. Hated how he wanted to turn the car around and punch the world until it stopped hurting you.

But most of all, he hated the voice in his head that whispered, you’re part of the reason she’s hurting.

Because you were tired. Of carrying everything for everyone. Of being the one people leaned on, cried to, slept against when the nights got too heavy. Including him. Especially him.

He hadn’t thought about what that cost you.

Not until he saw you fall apart in front of him.

And now—now all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. All those nights he called you, drunk and miserable. All those mornings he let you clean up his mess without asking if you were okay.

God, you were always there. And what did he ever give you in return?

His silence. His gruffness. His shoulder on bad days, maybe, but never his whole heart. Because he kept that locked up, buried under excuses like timing and she deserves better.

And now he was afraid he’d waited too long.

When he pulled into your driveway, you didn’t move right away. Just sat there for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly.

He nodded, swallowing down the hundred things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “You gonna be okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just need sleep.”

Another silence. The air between you filled with everything unsaid.

You reached for the door handle. And his hand twitched again—like it wanted to stop you.

But all he said was, “Let me know if you need anything.”

You paused. Glanced back at him. And for a second, something in your eyes flickered. Like maybe you were waiting for him to say something more.

But he didn’t.

So you nodded again. “Goodnight, bear.”

The door shut quietly behind you.

And Ari just sat there, both hands gripping the wheel like he was trying not to fall apart himself.

Because he should’ve said something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

And now he had no idea if you’d come to him the next time you broke.

No idea if he’d blown his only chance to be more than the guy you held up when he was down.

———

He didn’t go home. Drove right past his place and ended up in the parking lot of a 24-hour diner he wasn’t hungry enough to eat at.

The engine ticked as it cooled, the heat from the vents slowly fading while his thoughts did the exact opposite—boiling over.

He replayed the whole thing in his head on loop. The way your voice cracked. The way your shoulders trembled as you finally let yourself fall apart. The way you leaned on him, and he—he just froze.

Useless.

And then you apologized. Like it was some burden, the way your heart had broken in his hands.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighed into the dark.

Goddamn it.

He always thought he’d be ready. That when it happened—when you finally needed someone, him, the way he always needed you—he’d know what to do. He’d hold you like you hold him. He’d say the right thing. Be the right thing.

But he wasn’t.

He just sat there like some emotionally constipated idiot, whispering “hey, hey, I got you,” like that was enough to patch over whatever it was you were unraveling from.

Maybe it was work. Family. Life.

Or maybe it was him.

The thought turned his stomach.

What if it was him? What if all these years of letting you hold him, letting you be his escape, letting himself need you… what if that chipped away at you little by little?

What if this whole time you’d been slowly breaking, and he didn’t notice until it finally shattered in front of him?

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

“You idiot,” he muttered to himself. “You selfish, blind…”

The sound of his own voice made his throat tighten. He sat back again, scrubbing at his eyes. His chest ached. Like something there was unspooling—tight and raw and dangerous.

This was bad.

Worse than when he got drunk and said too much. Worse than when Ma was in the hospital and he couldn’t breathe without hearing your voice.

This was the kind of bad that felt like regret growing claws.

Because tonight, you’d cried. And for the first time, he realized he might not be enough. That he might lose you before he ever figured out how to tell you—

No. He wasn’t even going there. Not tonight.

He threw the car into gear and drove off, the night air colder than he remembered.

———

Ari woke up early the next day.

He’d been parked out front for the last 20 minutes.

Not knocking.

Not texting.

Just… sitting. Gripping the to-go tray with both hands like it might give him the words he couldn’t seem to find.

Two coffees. One black. One with that ridiculous caramel drizzle you pretend not to like but always steal sips of anyway. A croissant. A banana muffin. Options. Because he wasn’t sure what kind of day this was going to be, and God forbid he show up empty-handed.

He should’ve left.

But he couldn’t.

You needed him last night.

And now all he could think was: did he mess it up?

He didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to make it about him. But something in him had cracked wide open when he held you—felt you shaking, vulnerable, not saying much at all.

You’d always made space for him.

And now that you’d let him see you, really see you—he realized he’d do anything to be what you needed. Even if he didn’t know how to say that yet.

He finally got out of the car.

Knocked once.

Waited.

You opened the door in a hoodie three sizes too big—probably his—and eyes that looked like they’d barely slept.

Neither of you spoke at first.

Then he lifted the tray slightly.

“Brought options,” he said gruffly.

You stared at it. Then up at him. Then back down.

And then you stepped aside.

“Yeah. Okay.”

————

The coffee was lukewarm by the time either of you said anything.

You leaned against the counter. He hovered awkwardly by the fridge. Like the space between you had grown too wide overnight.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His head snapped up.

“For what?” he asked, too fast. Too sharp.

“For last night.”

He looked stricken. Like you’d punched him.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for that.”

Your throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” he cut in. “Be human?”

You flinched at the weight of it, at how harsh it sounded.

He ran a hand down his face. Took a breath. Tried again, softer.

“You were always there for me. Always. And I never—I never knew how to say thank you without messing it up.”

You watched him. Something crumbling quietly behind his eyes.

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me,” he said. “I want you to know you can. Even if I don’t say the right thing. Even if I just… sit there and hold you.”

Your hands curled around the coffee cup.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “You did.”

That silence stretched again. Heavy. But this time it felt warmer.

You didn’t fill it. Neither did he.

And maybe that was the point.

Because something had shifted.

You’d cried. He’d stayed.

He brought you coffee. You let him in.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

You turned away to rinse your mug, pretending the sudden sting in your eyes was just from lack of sleep.

Behind you, Ari shifted. You could feel it — the weight of him, the way he hovered like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Like every word was pressing against his teeth, begging to be let out.

And then—

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You turned.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just stood there, jaw clenched, hands braced on the kitchen counter like he needed something to hold him up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, quiet but shaking.

Your brows pulled together. “Do what?”

“This,” he said again, louder. “Pretending it’s fine. Pretending I don’t care when you walk away at night. When you laugh at something I say and then look away like you didn’t mean to.”

His voice cracked, just a little.

“I’ve been trying to wait. Give you space. Give myself time to get it together. But last night—”

He looked up at you then, and you wished he hadn’t. Because his eyes were raw. Wrecked.

“Watching you fall apart like that—do you even know what that did to me?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“I wanted to fix it,” he said, voice thick. “I wanted to take every shitty part of your life and rip it apart with my bare hands. And then I realized I was part of the problem.”

“You’re not—”

“I am,” he snapped. Then softened. “I’ve been leaning on you like you’d never fall. And you did. And I just stood there holding you like it made up for everything I didn’t say.”

The silence between you wasn’t warm now.

It burned.

“I don’t want to be the guy you call when everyone else lets you down,” he whispered. “I want to be the guy who’s there before that. Who gets to love you out loud, not just in the dark.”

Your breath caught.

And maybe that was the last thread. Because he took a step forward, chest rising like it hurt to breathe.

“I’ve been falling for you for longer than I want to admit,” he said. “And I’ve been fucking terrified that if I said it out loud, I’d ruin it. That I’d lose you.”

Another breath.

“But I think not saying it might’ve broken me anyway.”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Because your heart was pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

And Ari — strong, stoic, impossible Ari — just stood there in your kitchen, confessing every truth he’d buried like it was the only thing he had left.

No defenses.

No more waiting.

Just everything you didn’t know you’d been waiting to hear.

You stared at him.

And he stared back — chest heaving, eyes wild, like the words had cost him something he might not get back. Like he’d thrown his heart down at your feet and wasn’t sure if you’d pick it up or step over it.

The silence between you was deafening.

Not empty — no, it was too full. It hummed with all the things you couldn’t say. All the versions of him you’d carried in your chest for months. All the nights you stayed up wondering what it would mean if he ever looked at you like this.

And now he had.

And you didn’t know what to do with it.

Ari’s fingers flexed at his sides, like he was holding himself back from reaching for you.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said, quieter now. “I just… I needed you to know. Before I ruin it by staying silent too long.”

You swallowed hard.

Because that was the thing — he hadn’t ruined it. Not by loving you. Not by breaking open in the middle of your kitchen. But he didn’t know that. He was bracing for it. For the fallout. Like love was a grenade and he’d just pulled the pin.

“I can leave,” he added, voice thin, already stepping back. “If it’s too much. If I made it weird.”

“No.”

You said it without thinking. Too fast, too loud.

His eyes snapped to yours.

And your next breath came out broken. Because it hit you all at once — he really thought he’d ruined it. That loving you out loud might mean losing you.

“No,” you said again, softer this time. “Don’t you dare leave.”

A pause.

Then — “I’m scared.”

The words left your mouth before you could pull them back. Quiet. Honest. Small.

Ari blinked, like he hadn’t expected that.

“I’m so scared, Ari,” you said, voice shaking. “Because this — you, me — it’s not something I can take lightly. And if I let it be real…”

You trailed off. Couldn’t finish.

But Ari stepped closer again, slow, like he didn’t want to spook you.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m scared too.”

Another breath.

“But I’d rather be scared with you than brave without you.”

And that — that’s when it cracked wide open again. Not with sobs. Not with shouting.

Just with the quiet understanding that everything was different now.

And it had been for a long time.

-

END.

A/N | uhm…….. whaaaaaattttttt??? my heart is burning.

[andysbubba]

needy

summary | the two times ari needs you, and that one time you needed him.

pairing | ari levinson x reader

warnings | just a tiny bit of angst, an emotionally constipated ari levinson, something about unrequited love and finally a bestfriends to lovers trope!

A/N | hi, i’m haney and i’ve been gone from this app for a long time and i missed writing so here’s a little story that has been ageing in my drafts that i finally finished! hope u enjoy this read! ❤️

—————

ONE

The first time: when he was drunk

"Don't go." He starts, his voice already sounding so vulnerable that you know you'd give him anything he'd ask for. "Please."

You stop in your steps, the hand on the doorknob dropping down to your side and you turn around to face him. You helped him get into bed after a long night out, and you were planning to leave or maybe just crash on his couch since its already late and you're too lazy to get back home.

"Don't have to stay the whole night if you don't want to. Just keep me company till I sleep."

"Okay, grumpy." You traced back your steps, and you tug your jacket off, leaving it on his nightstand before you climb up his bed and settle in right beside him.

His eyes stayed on you the whole time and he shifts closer to your side.

"How ya feelin', grump?"

"I'm tired." He snuggles up into your side and throws an arm around your stomach. "How are you always so warm and soft?" he questioned, like the question had been haunting him.

You hum at his question and raise your hand up to his head and run your fingers through his hair. "How are you always so cuddly when you're drunk?"

He mumbles out something you couldn't really understand and he turns his head to nuzzle into the fabric of your shirt.

You nod mindlessly, paying no attention to what he’s trying to say and ran your fingers through his hair, watching him drift off — heavy limbs, steady breath, muttered nonsense.

---

When you're up the next morning, the spot beside you was already empty. You had no doubt Ari was nursing a shitty hangover from all the drinks he had yesterday. He called you pretty late last night with his words all slurry and draggy. So naturally as his friend, you went to the bar to pick him up and bring him home.

He was grumbling in the kitchen, trudging around with heavy footsteps. As you entered the kitchen, he nods at you in acknowledgement. Too hungover for good mornings.

“How was your date yesterday, twinkie?” he asked, casual, but not really.

You told him it was nice. And he’s cute.

Ari nodded, silent.

He didn’t ask anything else, just rubbed his temple and reached out for the Advil.

You let it go. Pretended not to notice the tight set of his jaw. The way he couldn’t quite look at you.

He didn’t say it, but you knew.

He hated it.

————

TWO

The second time: when his mom was in the hospital

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, bear. I've got you." Ari crashed straight into your arms the moment he spots you striding into the waiting room. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, and his arms tightened around you. His body shakes as tiny, soft sobs leaves his lips and it sounds muffled as he cries into your neck. "I've got you, babe. Just take deep breaths for me, okay?"

He collapsed into your arms like something inside him had snapped. You held him tight, fingers in his hair, whispering that it was okay — even when you weren’t sure it was.

She was in surgery. Something routine, your colleagues had said. But fear doesn’t listen to facts when it’s someone you love on the table.

So you took him up to your office, let him drink your last Capri Sun and eat the Mars bar you’d been saving.

“Apple juice? Really?” he grumbled, straw between his teeth.

“Stop acting like my nephew and maybe I’ll get you a beer next time.”

He didn’t laugh. But he leaned into you. Head on your shoulder. Arms curled close.

You kept scratching at his scalp, trying to quiet the shaking in his chest.

“I want to be there when she wakes up,” he said quietly.

“You will be. I promise. I told them to call me if anything comes up."

———

When you brought him to the recovery room, his mom lit up.

"Y/n, sweetheart!"

You smiled, embracing her with the same warmth she greeted you with.

“Mrs Levinson!”

The permanent frown on his face eased, softened into something you didn’t see often — a smile. Small, but real. His shoulders dropped, a visible exhale of all the fear he’d carried since the phone call.

“She’s really okay?” he asked, his voice cracking even as he tried to hold himself together.

You nodded from your spot at the foot of the bed, watching the way he reached for her hand like he still didn’t believe it.

“She’s more than okay, bear.”

Mrs. Levinson gave him a tired but loving smile, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere yet. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Ari laughed — breathy and weak. And you could see it in his eyes, just for a flicker of the little boy he used to be, still afraid of losing the people he loves.

You stepped back a little, giving them their space, heart pulling in your chest.

Because you’d never seen Ari cry before that morning. Not like that. Not that kind of broken.

But he let you hold him.

He called you.

He let himself fall apart in your arms — the same arms he once called just “warm and soft,” like that was all they were.

But now?

Now he knew what they meant.

Now you knew what they meant.

It wasn’t just the comfort.

It was safety.

It was home.

————

A while later, you both stepped out of the hospital room, and Ari was quiet. Too quiet.

The halls buzzed with fluorescent light and the low murmur of hospital life, but he walked beside you like he couldn’t feel any of it. His hand brushed yours once. Didn’t take it. Just… brushed it. Like a thought half-formed.

You stopped just outside the vending machines.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the linoleum floor.

Then:

“You didn’t have to show up today.”

You blinked. “Of course I did.”

“I know but…” He swallowed. His voice went hoarse. “You had a date. With Barber. You could’ve ignored the call.”

“I never would.”

He finally looked at you. And God, the ache in his eyes — it could flatten cities.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said, low. “I don’t even know what I can be to you.”

Your breath caught.

A pause. He shifts his weight, stares at the floor like it did something wrong.

“You always do,” he says, like it’s a problem. “Show up. Stay. Even when I don’t say anything. Even when I’m… not exactly good company.”

You don’t say anything, just wait. Because you know him. You know.

Then, quieter:

“I keep thinkin’ one day you’ll stop.”

You blink.

He finally looks at you — and the look in his eyes wrecks you.

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

—————

THREE

The one time you needed ari

You’d been holding it all in for weeks — the weight of pretending everything was fine, juggling your job, Ari’s complicated family situation, and your own swirling mess of feelings.

The late nights at the hospital, watching Ari pacing the halls, biting his lip every time he got a call from his mother’s doctors.

The phone calls you got from Ari, voice tight and rough, asking about your day, but really needing to hear a calm voice to steady his own nerves.

And then there was Dr. Andy Barber — the “date” you told Ari about just to keep things simple, to keep him at arm’s length. But every time you saw Andy, you felt a pang — a reminder that Ari was watching, waiting, and the tension between you was growing unbearable.

That day at the hospital, you were exhausted, emotionally raw from being the “strong one” for everyone — for Ari, for his mother, even for yourself. When the surgery was over, the relief should have settled in.

But instead, when you stepped outside and saw Ari — looking smaller somehow, his usual grumpy armor cracked — all the fear, all the loneliness you’d stuffed down came crashing out.

You weren’t just tired of the hospital, the stress, the waiting.

You were tired of pretending you could do it all alone.

And Ari… he was the only person who ever saw through it. You didn’t mean to cry.

You’d planned to smile, say goodbye, maybe even tell him to call you later. But your body betrayed you the moment you saw him waiting outside the hospital — leaning against his car, arms crossed, that same tired scowl on his face. The one he always wore when he didn’t know how to say “I’m worried about you.”

“Ari,” you tried to say, but your voice cracked right through the middle.

He looked up.

And that’s all it took.

The tightness in your chest collapsed, and everything you’d held in — all the stress, the exhaustion, the pretending — came pouring out in one stupid, gasping breath.

“I can’t—” you started, before your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stop the sob that clawed up your throat.

Ari was at your side before you could hide it. No words, no hesitation. Just two arms wrapping around you, strong and steady and home.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you into him like it was instinct. “Hey, I got you.”

You shook your head against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket like you were drowning.

“I’m so tired, bear.” Your voice was hoarse, barely there. “Everything’s been so much. I didn’t even know how bad it was till I saw you.”

He held you tighter. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other firm around your waist, grounding you like no one else could.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured into your hair. “Not right now. Just let it out, yeah?”

You broke again, face buried in his chest. Ugly sobs, hot tears. And he didn’t flinch. Didn’t let go.

Didn’t run.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, crying into the man who used to sleep on you like a pillow after too many beers. The man who once hated hospitals and late-night phone calls. The man who, for all his quiet, grumpy, impossible ways — always showed up when it counted.

Now, he was the one holding you together.

And it wasn’t until the crying started to slow that you realized he’d been whispering something over and over into your hair, like a prayer he was afraid to say out loud.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

————

He drove you home in silence. One hand on the wheel, the other twitching like it wanted to reach for yours but didn’t dare.

You’d fallen quiet again. Your head leaning against the window. The light of passing streetlamps drawing soft shadows across your face. You looked… wrung out. Tired in a way he couldn’t fix with dumb jokes or aspirin. Not this time.

And Ari hated it. Hated that he couldn’t find the words to make it better. Hated how he wanted to turn the car around and punch the world until it stopped hurting you.

But most of all, he hated the voice in his head that whispered, you’re part of the reason she’s hurting.

Because you were tired. Of carrying everything for everyone. Of being the one people leaned on, cried to, slept against when the nights got too heavy. Including him. Especially him.

He hadn’t thought about what that cost you.

Not until he saw you fall apart in front of him.

And now—now all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. All those nights he called you, drunk and miserable. All those mornings he let you clean up his mess without asking if you were okay.

God, you were always there. And what did he ever give you in return?

His silence. His gruffness. His shoulder on bad days, maybe, but never his whole heart. Because he kept that locked up, buried under excuses like timing and she deserves better.

And now he was afraid he’d waited too long.

When he pulled into your driveway, you didn’t move right away. Just sat there for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly.

He nodded, swallowing down the hundred things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “You gonna be okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just need sleep.”

Another silence. The air between you filled with everything unsaid.

You reached for the door handle. And his hand twitched again—like it wanted to stop you.

But all he said was, “Let me know if you need anything.”

You paused. Glanced back at him. And for a second, something in your eyes flickered. Like maybe you were waiting for him to say something more.

But he didn’t.

So you nodded again. “Goodnight, bear.”

The door shut quietly behind you.

And Ari just sat there, both hands gripping the wheel like he was trying not to fall apart himself.

Because he should’ve said something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

And now he had no idea if you’d come to him the next time you broke.

No idea if he’d blown his only chance to be more than the guy you held up when he was down.

———

He didn’t go home. Drove right past his place and ended up in the parking lot of a 24-hour diner he wasn’t hungry enough to eat at.

The engine ticked as it cooled, the heat from the vents slowly fading while his thoughts did the exact opposite—boiling over.

He replayed the whole thing in his head on loop. The way your voice cracked. The way your shoulders trembled as you finally let yourself fall apart. The way you leaned on him, and he—he just froze.

Useless.

And then you apologized. Like it was some burden, the way your heart had broken in his hands.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighed into the dark.

Goddamn it.

He always thought he’d be ready. That when it happened—when you finally needed someone, him, the way he always needed you—he’d know what to do. He’d hold you like you hold him. He’d say the right thing. Be the right thing.

But he wasn’t.

He just sat there like some emotionally constipated idiot, whispering “hey, hey, I got you,” like that was enough to patch over whatever it was you were unraveling from.

Maybe it was work. Family. Life.

Or maybe it was him.

The thought turned his stomach.

What if it was him? What if all these years of letting you hold him, letting you be his escape, letting himself need you… what if that chipped away at you little by little?

What if this whole time you’d been slowly breaking, and he didn’t notice until it finally shattered in front of him?

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

“You idiot,” he muttered to himself. “You selfish, blind…”

The sound of his own voice made his throat tighten. He sat back again, scrubbing at his eyes. His chest ached. Like something there was unspooling—tight and raw and dangerous.

This was bad.

Worse than when he got drunk and said too much. Worse than when Ma was in the hospital and he couldn’t breathe without hearing your voice.

This was the kind of bad that felt like regret growing claws.

Because tonight, you’d cried. And for the first time, he realized he might not be enough. That he might lose you before he ever figured out how to tell you—

No. He wasn’t even going there. Not tonight.

He threw the car into gear and drove off, the night air colder than he remembered.

———

Ari woke up early the next day.

He’d been parked out front for the last 20 minutes.

Not knocking.

Not texting.

Just… sitting. Gripping the to-go tray with both hands like it might give him the words he couldn’t seem to find.

Two coffees. One black. One with that ridiculous caramel drizzle you pretend not to like but always steal sips of anyway. A croissant. A banana muffin. Options. Because he wasn’t sure what kind of day this was going to be, and God forbid he show up empty-handed.

He should’ve left.

But he couldn’t.

You needed him last night.

And now all he could think was: did he mess it up?

He didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to make it about him. But something in him had cracked wide open when he held you—felt you shaking, vulnerable, not saying much at all.

You’d always made space for him.

And now that you’d let him see you, really see you—he realized he’d do anything to be what you needed. Even if he didn’t know how to say that yet.

He finally got out of the car.

Knocked once.

Waited.

You opened the door in a hoodie three sizes too big—probably his—and eyes that looked like they’d barely slept.

Neither of you spoke at first.

Then he lifted the tray slightly.

“Brought options,” he said gruffly.

You stared at it. Then up at him. Then back down.

And then you stepped aside.

“Yeah. Okay.”

————

The coffee was lukewarm by the time either of you said anything.

You leaned against the counter. He hovered awkwardly by the fridge. Like the space between you had grown too wide overnight.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His head snapped up.

“For what?” he asked, too fast. Too sharp.

“For last night.”

He looked stricken. Like you’d punched him.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for that.”

Your throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” he cut in. “Be human?”

You flinched at the weight of it, at how harsh it sounded.

He ran a hand down his face. Took a breath. Tried again, softer.

“You were always there for me. Always. And I never—I never knew how to say thank you without messing it up.”

You watched him. Something crumbling quietly behind his eyes.

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me,” he said. “I want you to know you can. Even if I don’t say the right thing. Even if I just… sit there and hold you.”

Your hands curled around the coffee cup.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “You did.”

That silence stretched again. Heavy. But this time it felt warmer.

You didn’t fill it. Neither did he.

And maybe that was the point.

Because something had shifted.

You’d cried. He’d stayed.

He brought you coffee. You let him in.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

You turned away to rinse your mug, pretending the sudden sting in your eyes was just from lack of sleep.

Behind you, Ari shifted. You could feel it — the weight of him, the way he hovered like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Like every word was pressing against his teeth, begging to be let out.

And then—

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You turned.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just stood there, jaw clenched, hands braced on the kitchen counter like he needed something to hold him up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, quiet but shaking.

Your brows pulled together. “Do what?”

“This,” he said again, louder. “Pretending it’s fine. Pretending I don’t care when you walk away at night. When you laugh at something I say and then look away like you didn’t mean to.”

His voice cracked, just a little.

“I’ve been trying to wait. Give you space. Give myself time to get it together. But last night—”

He looked up at you then, and you wished he hadn’t. Because his eyes were raw. Wrecked.

“Watching you fall apart like that—do you even know what that did to me?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“I wanted to fix it,” he said, voice thick. “I wanted to take every shitty part of your life and rip it apart with my bare hands. And then I realized I was part of the problem.”

“You’re not—”

“I am,” he snapped. Then softened. “I’ve been leaning on you like you’d never fall. And you did. And I just stood there holding you like it made up for everything I didn’t say.”

The silence between you wasn’t warm now.

It burned.

“I don’t want to be the guy you call when everyone else lets you down,” he whispered. “I want to be the guy who’s there before that. Who gets to love you out loud, not just in the dark.”

Your breath caught.

And maybe that was the last thread. Because he took a step forward, chest rising like it hurt to breathe.

“I’ve been falling for you for longer than I want to admit,” he said. “And I’ve been fucking terrified that if I said it out loud, I’d ruin it. That I’d lose you.”

Another breath.

“But I think not saying it might’ve broken me anyway.”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Because your heart was pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

And Ari — strong, stoic, impossible Ari — just stood there in your kitchen, confessing every truth he’d buried like it was the only thing he had left.

No defenses.

No more waiting.

Just everything you didn’t know you’d been waiting to hear.

You stared at him.

And he stared back — chest heaving, eyes wild, like the words had cost him something he might not get back. Like he’d thrown his heart down at your feet and wasn’t sure if you’d pick it up or step over it.

The silence between you was deafening.

Not empty — no, it was too full. It hummed with all the things you couldn’t say. All the versions of him you’d carried in your chest for months. All the nights you stayed up wondering what it would mean if he ever looked at you like this.

And now he had.

And you didn’t know what to do with it.

Ari’s fingers flexed at his sides, like he was holding himself back from reaching for you.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said, quieter now. “I just… I needed you to know. Before I ruin it by staying silent too long.”

You swallowed hard.

Because that was the thing — he hadn’t ruined it. Not by loving you. Not by breaking open in the middle of your kitchen. But he didn’t know that. He was bracing for it. For the fallout. Like love was a grenade and he’d just pulled the pin.

“I can leave,” he added, voice thin, already stepping back. “If it’s too much. If I made it weird.”

“No.”

You said it without thinking. Too fast, too loud.

His eyes snapped to yours.

And your next breath came out broken. Because it hit you all at once — he really thought he’d ruined it. That loving you out loud might mean losing you.

“No,” you said again, softer this time. “Don’t you dare leave.”

A pause.

Then — “I’m scared.”

The words left your mouth before you could pull them back. Quiet. Honest. Small.

Ari blinked, like he hadn’t expected that.

“I’m so scared, Ari,” you said, voice shaking. “Because this — you, me — it’s not something I can take lightly. And if I let it be real…”

You trailed off. Couldn’t finish.

But Ari stepped closer again, slow, like he didn’t want to spook you.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m scared too.”

Another breath.

“But I’d rather be scared with you than brave without you.”

And that — that’s when it cracked wide open again. Not with sobs. Not with shouting.

Just with the quiet understanding that everything was different now.

And it had been for a long time.

-

END.

A/N | uhm…….. whaaaaaattttttt??? my heart is burning.

[andysbubba]

i decided to log back in after almost 3 years, and omg did i miss writing 😭

on a side note, i might be back with a finished draft on a little ari levinson story 😋

hugs and kisses!

haney <3

[andysbubba]

I love the midnights idea, so exciting and I love the album sm! 💛

i'm so excited to write it too! and i've listened to midnights on repeat the past few days, its stuck in my head at this point 🤤

[andysbubba]

facepalm + help me combo

[andysbubba]

midnights ੈ✩‧₊˚☾

ೃ⁀➷ in hopes this ends the never ending writer's block

: ̗̀➛ a series of stories and little drabbles, mostly angst or really soft reads with chris’ characters. i can't promise that i will actually write all of these, or even complete one in the first place, but i'm hoping that this will eventually lead to something. this masterlist will be updated as we go along. please be patient with me while i try my best to dig up whatever writer brain energy i can summon hehe

while we're here, i should also add that i'll be making a new blog for any future updates! my taglist got too long and i lost track of most of 'em. its a blank blog for now till i find the time to work on the aesthetics and what nots but in the meantime, follow @andysbubbalibrary!

love, haney ✧

lavender haze

-‘๑’- i just wanna stay in that lavender haze - ,,

maroon

⋆࿔*:･ how the hell did we lose sight of us again? - ,,

anti-hero

-‘๑’- it's me, hi, i'm the problem, it's me - ,,

snow on the beach

⋆࿔*:･ you wanting me tonight, feels impossible - ,,

you're on your own, kid

-‘๑’- i wait patiently, he's gonna notice me - ,,

midnight rain

⋆࿔*:･ and i never think of him, except on midnights like this - ,,

question...?

-‘๑’- cause i don't remember who i was before you - ,,

bejeweled

⋆࿔*:･ don't put me in the basement, when i want the penthouse of your heart - ,,

labyrinth

-‘๑’- oh no, i'm falling in love again - ,,

mastermind

⋆࿔*:･ you knew that i'm a mastermind - ,,

paris

-‘๑’- i'm so in love that i might stop breathing - ,,

high infidelity

⋆࿔*:･ i'd pay, if you'd just know me, seemed like the right thing at the time - ,,

[andysbubba]

look who came to disturb while i was trying to write 😪

[andysbubba]

and if I dedicate a whole series of fics to midnights and if this album drop turns out to be the end of my writing block and if I owe it all to taylor alison swift?

[andysbubba]

MY THIRTEENTH REASON 😭😭😭

[andysbubba]

i will write and post something i promise lordddddd 😵‍💫

[andysbubba]

hehe hi baby! thank u for this cute messag, love u and miss u! wish i was more active on here so i can interact with u more 😖

[andysbubba]

KINNY I MISSED U BABY

The Cheerleader • P2

18+

As it turns out, fucking your worst enemy's dad in her own home is incredibly satisfying.

Content Warning: DILF!Steve x Reader, mature themes, forbidden relationship, age gap, smut (face fucking, daddy kink, Dom!Steve, praise kink penetrative sex, creampie).

Part One

"You are out of your mind."

Davina's cynical comment elicits an eye roll from you while you touch up your lip gloss in the mirror. "It's fate, Davie. How can I ignore fate?" You ask incredulously, turning to face her. "He's here, on campus. I have to take advantage of this opportunity!"

She lets out a long sigh, shaking her head as she watches you put on your uniform. "What are you wearing that for?" She asks with a frown.

"He might only be into me because of the whole cheerleader thing," You explain simply. "I can't risk him rejecting me."

"He's visiting his daughter at college; if he doesn't reject you, he's a pervert!" Davina retorts, standing up.

"No, he is not!" You shoot back. "He's beautiful, and really good at sex. Will you just let me have this?"

"There's no way he's gonna have sex with you again," She reckons, not too sure herself. "How would that even be logistically possible?"

"I don't need to fuck him; I just wanna see him again," You admit with a smile. "Twirl my skirt a little, take up some space in his mind."

She lets out a sigh but gives up on trying to stop you, which you take as her blessing.

Jamie Rogers' building is on the other side of campus. It's a short walk over, and you spend the whole time buzzing. The second you saw her dad on her Instagram story with a caption about how he had surprised her with a visit, you knew you had to at least try to see him.

You know exactly where she lives, thankfully. Her apartment is right next to Pietro's, which you frequent. When you get there, you knock on her door a few times, before stepping back and smoothing down your skirt. Almost a month has passed since you last saw Mr. Rogers, and you're itching for your next hit.

The door opens and Jamie immediately looks disgusted. "Are you lost?" She asks you, looking you up and down with a frown. "Maximoff lives next door."

"I'm not here to see Pietro," You reveal with a friendly smile, holding up the poster in your hand. "I came to invite you to help out with a fundraiser the Falconettes are hosting."

Utterly confused, Jamie scoffs. "You came all the way here to give me a poster for an event I most definitely will not be attending, let alone helping out with?" She asks incredulously.

You take in a deep breath before pushing past her, casually strolling into the apartment. "It's for a good cause," You insist, feeling your stomach flip when you see her father leaning against the breakfast bar. "Hi, Mr. Rogers! I didn't know you were visiting."

A smile grows on his face as he sees you, looking you up and down. "Hello, Y/N. It's good to see you again," He greets you with a subtle smirk.

"Yeah, she was just leaving," Jamie interjects, snatching the poster from your hand. "Why should I care about this fundraiser?"

Giving her a warm smile, despite how much you just want to give her just as much attitude back, you reply, "We're trying to raise money for our flights to Nationals. But whatever we have left over is going to the Falcons, so I figured you'd be interested in helping out."

"That sounds great," Mr. Rogers suddenly chimes in. "Honey, you're always complaining that you guys don't have enough budget for a new uniform."

"Exactly!" You add on with a grin, holding your hand and taking Jamie's. "Everyone can win, Jamie, if we all work together."

She grimaces before pulling her hand back. "Why are you being so nice to me after last week?" She questions you with narrow eyes. "Get high off your boyfriend's supply, again?"

The mention of last week makes your eye twitch. At a party, you and Jamie had got into yet another argument, which ended with her dumping her drink on your head. Most of your motivation to fuck her dad again comes from the rage you felt that night, but you slap on a fake smile and keep up the act.

"Don't be silly, Jay! Bygones!" You exclaim with a soft laugh, gently hitting her arm. "And Pietro and I are just friends, you know that!"

Raising a brow, she lowers her voice. "Yeah, that's not what I heard the other night-"

"Anyway!" You cut her off, turning to Mr. Rogers. "Have you two got any fun plans today?"

Jamie huffs, giving up with trying to make you leave anytime soon. Mr. Rogers steps forward, folding his big arms across his chest. "We're gonna watch a play," He tells you.

"Right after I shower and get ready," Jamie mumbles, looking down at her watch.

"Oh. Right," You say, feeling a bout of mischief as you slowly back away towards the door. "Well, I'm going next door to hang with Piet."

"When?" She questions, confusing you.

"Uh, right now?" You retort with a frown.

"No, when did I ask?" She asks with an eye-roll, but you're too busy giving Mr. Rogers fuck-me eyes to notice her diss.

"Enjoy your shower, Jamie," You sing, before getting down on one knee and pretending to be tying your shoelace.

"Enjoy screwing your boyfriend, slut," She retorts quietly, to which you shoot her a wink.

"I will," You whisper while she storms out of the room.

When you hear her bedroom door slamming shut, you look up from your shoes to see Mr. Rogers walking over to you. You're about to get up, but he cups your cheek in his hand and lowers his voice. "Stay there," He orders with a mumble, making your pussy throb.

You say nothing, too awestruck by his silent dominance as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his hard cock. Your other knee lowers to the carpeted floor and your lips part instinctively.

"Miss me?" He asks you teasingly, tapping his tip on your bottom lip.

"Yeah," You whisper breathlessly, already flustered into complete submission.

"Been thinking about how good I fucked you?" He questions lowly, slowly inching his dick into your mouth. "'Bout how nobody else could ever make you cum that hard?"

Your stomach flips and you know that it's true; nobody comes close to being as good as him as pressing your every button. For the past month, you've been masturbating to the memory of him, and now that you have the chance to experience him again, you're utterly overwhelmed. Fucking Pietro is nice and all, but he doesn't hold a candle to Steven Rogers.

Without warning, he begins to fuck your face. You tightly grab his thighs in each of your hands, taken aback by his rough intrusion. "Keep your eyes on me," He growls, running a hand through your hair before pulling on the ends. "That's it. Don't act so coy, baby, we both know this is exactly what you came here for."

You let out whimpers around his cock, your heart racing as it tunnels down your throat. Incapable of a single coherent thought, you simply stare up at him, letting your jaw relax and letting him use you like a toy. You feel yourself getting wetter, every one of Steve's grunts making your cunt throb. In an attempt to feel some relief, you squeeze your legs together and slightly move your hips back and forth.

"Look at you," He mutters with an arrogant smirk, slowing down his thrusts. "Getting wet for me, baby? Need me in your pussy?"

You nod as best as you can, eager to fuck him again and also keenly aware that you don't have much time with him. Jamie could jump out the shower any minute, and the two of you know that. Without wasting a second, Steve pulls out of your mouth and grabs your arm, dragging you up to your feet. Dazed, you stumble backwards, and he follows you to push you against the wall and give you a sloppy kiss.

"Haven't stopped thinking about you," He admits lowly, squeezing your hips as his forehead rests against yours. "That perfect pussy. I'm hooked, baby."

Timidly, you wrap your fingers around his dick, gently and slowly stroking it. Steve's jaw clenches as he groans lowly, his eyes darkening.

"Fuck. Come here," He mumbles before lifting up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. You rest your arms on his shoulders and your stomach flips with excitement as he brings his cock to your entrance. "Ready?"

"Yes," You whisper, before gasping when he sinks into you. Slowly, he feeds you every inch of himself, his pulsing dick filling you up.

"Oh, fuck," He groans, throwing his head back. "Shit, you're gonna kill me."

Once you're used to his intrusion, you squeeze his shoulder and nod profusely. Steve takes that as his green light and begins pounding in and out of you, fucking you against the wall and making the shelves shake. Your voice is stolen as he fucks you, and you're unable to let anything besides weak whimpers and moans out of your mouth.

"That's it, baby, you're taking me so well," Steve praises you, thrusting harder. "That's my girl."

You light up at his words, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He can tell he's already got you in the palm of his hand, and he loves it. Suddenly, he stops his movements and begins walking you over to the couch. Jamie's couch. Steve puts you down onto your feet before bending you over the back of the couch and lifting up your skirt again.

"Such a good little slut for me," He utters, slapping his tip against your pussy a few times before pushing it back into you. You feel him much deeper in this position, and it makes your toes curl when he brushes against your cervix. He gives you no time to adjust, fucking into you hard and fast once again.

Steve takes your hands in his, pulling your arms behind you as he slams in and out of you. Your moans are loud, but you don't care. Jamie's music is blasting from the bathroom, and even if it wasn't, you grin widely at the thought of the look on her face if she were to walk in on her dad railing her worst enemy on her own couch.

"You are unreal," Steve says, making you smirk at how smitten you've made him. He slows down his thrusts and cups your face, bringing you up so your back is against his front. "Tell me, baby, who does this pussy belong to?"

Through your smile, you reply, "It belongs to you, daddy. I'm all yours."

He pulls out before turning you around to face him and cups your cheeks in his hands. With a deep kiss, he lets you know exactly how obsessed with you he is, and you're glad your feelings are mutual. During the kiss, as his tongue dances with yours, Steve picks you back up and takes you over to the breakfast counter. There, he sits you down onto a stool before lifting your legs up and placing them on his shoulders.

"All mine," He repeats with a mumble, marrying his cock back to your cunt, sliding back into you. "My good little slut."

He fucks into you deeper than ever, lightly wrapping his hand around your throat. You feel dizzy, overcome with pleasure. "Daddy," You whine as your eyes roll back.

"Fuck, baby, take it," Steve grunts, pawing at your tits through your top. "That feel good?"

"So good," You reply, digging your nails into his biceps. "Please don't stop, daddy, make me cum."

Your words spur him on to fuck you harder, and soon you feel your core tighten. With a loud cry, you let go and cum, overwhelmed with a rush of bliss and intense relief.

"That's my fuckin' girl," He groans, thrusting slower. He pounds into you a few more times before cumming, shooting his load into you with a grunt. "Shit."

Shuddering, you slowly come down from your high while Steve gently puts your panties back into place and smoothes down your skirt. Once your mind is back on the ground, and you can see clearly again, you realize you're sitting at the counter and Steve is opening up a bottle of kombucha before he slides it over to you.

"Drink up, cheerleader," He says, giving you a smile.

"Fuck," You mumble, fixing your hair. "Did we really just do that?"

Smirking, Steve rests his hands on the counter. "You wanna come watch the play with us?" He asks, watching as you take a sip.

"Absolutely not," Is your instant reply.

He knows to give up, shrugging before holding out his hand. "Give me your phone," He orders, waiting for you to fish it out of your pocket and place it in his pal. "Password?"

You tell him the number code, curiously observing as he types and swipes. After a few moments, he hands it back to you.

"You're so old," You tease him.

"Call me," He says simply, to which you snort.

With an eye roll, he sighs. "Fine, text me, or whatever the fuck," He huffs.

"I will," You chirp, putting your phone away.

"When I want to," You say with a casual shrug. "Might not be a while."

"When?" He asks.

Steve raises a brow, giving you a cold look while saying nothing. It's enough to knock all the confidence out of you and you immediately lose the attitude.

"Tonight," You correct yourself, earning a smug look from him. "When will you get home?"

"I have classes tomorrow, and don't you have work?" You wonder with a frown.

"Around 9," He answers, before a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. "Come with me."

Steve shakes his head. "Retired."

"Created a banking software in my early twenties, developed it for a decade, sold it in my early thirties, invested in a bunch of companies with the money, and here I am. No need to work for the rest of my life," He explains calmly, as though he isn't describing his journey to self-made millionairism.

Taken aback, you scoff. "You're like, not even forty! How are you retired?"

"Oh," You say simply. "Nice."

Steve leans forward, resting his arms on the counter. "So, come see my big house," He invites.

With a sigh, you shake your head. "Sounds good, but I have training tomorrow," You say with an apologetic look. "Nationals are soon, and I can't let my girls down."

"So you're gonna let your man down instead?" He asks, smoothly using the possessive pronoun like it's nothing and turning you into a giddy ball of nerves. Your man.

Thankfully, before you have to say something in response, Jamie re-enters the living space, screwing her face up when she sees you. "Why are you still here?"

Sitting up, you give her a grin. "Your father and I were just talking about finance. His journey is truly fascinating, I'm a big fan of his work," You lie through your teeth.

Unconvinced, she raises a brow. "You care about finance?" She asks incredulously. "The cheerleader majoring in Excercising Science cares about finance?"

"I have a quiet passion for math," You claim, standing up.

"Whatever," She mutters. "You can leave, now."

"Aren't you gonna invite your friend to the barbecue next weekend, J?" Steve asks, giving her an expectant look.

"She's not my friend, dad," She reminds him, frustrated.

"Don't be rude, Jamie," He says sternly, before giving you a smile. "You should come, Y/N. Jamie's Uncle Bucky works in Sport Science; I'm sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about."

Storming over to you, Jamie lowers her voice. "I'll come to your stupid fundraiser. Now, will you please get out of my life?"

The twinkle in Steve's eye is holding you captive, and you can't help but smile back at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," You sing, before shooting her a wink.

i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs 💞

buy me a kofi <3

[andysbubba]

not even lying when i say i can't write anymore 😵‍💫

[andysbubba]

i read my own fic and i was like oh... shit... i should really start writing again....... BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE all i'm doing rn is reading books 😭😭😭

[andysbubba]

my birthday gift was a threesome

[andysbubba]

reading this and pretending i'm surprised that the boys are c*tching feelings 😵‍💫

The Fuckboy Committee

NINE: DATE NIGHT

18+

Still a virgin in your 20s, you're desperate for some experience - but there's not a single man in New York that you can trust. There are, however, two seasoned fuckboys who promise to guide you through the world of sex, with no strings attached.

The fuckboys take you out, before taking you in.

Content Warning: Fuckboy!Steve x Reader x Fuckboy!Bucky, mature themes, friends with benefits, fluff, mention of sex, kissing, cuddling.

Series Masterlist

Being Tony Stark's personal assistant means many late nights at the office. You can't leave before he does, and he's nothing if not a workaholic. While you're drafting up an email one evening, a couple of hours after everyone else has left, you feel a presence approaching your desk, accompanied by footsteps. You wait until the footsteps stop before looking up to see Steve and Bucky staring down at you.

"Oh," You utter with surprise, folding your arms across your chest and sitting back in your chair. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Quit the secretary mode, you know how much it turns me on," Bucky says with a frown. "This is serious."

Laughing, you raise a brow. "I request elaboration, Mr. Barnes."

Groaning, he bites his fist while Steve steps closer to you. "We need to give you another lesson, right now," He claims.

"I'm kinda in the middle of some work-"

"That's what hours 9-5 are for - it's officially Happy Hour!" Bucky exclaims.

"Twinkie, baby, Thor's so into you," Steve says, resting his hands on your desk and leaning down. "If you don't give him something back soon, he'll back off. I know you love the attention too much to risk that."

"Prick," You mumble, unable to meet his eyes because you know he's right. "He flirts with everyone."

"I've seen the way he looks at you, newb," Bucky adds with a raised brow sits on your desk. "Especially when you're not looking back at him."

"He probably looks at everyone like that," You guess, refusing to believe that out of everyone, Thor Odinson spends time thinking about you. "It isn't anything deep, I'm just the only person in the office he can fluster."

"You know what?" Steve begins. "Maybe it isn't that deep, and maybe he's only physically attracted to you - but that's all we need. He's just target practice, my sweetheart."

"That's exactly right. It's just practice," Bucky chimes in. "And when you do meet Mr. Right, you wanna be able to flirt with him, don't you?"

Glaring at him, you grit your teeth. "I'm working," You remind them.

"Not anymore. Tony doesn't need you here; we all know he's watching Desperate Housewives in his office right now," Steve says bluntly. "C'mon, twinkie. It's date night."

"Date night?" You repeat with a frown.

"Steve and I have a monthly date night," Bucky informs you with a smile. "Keeps our friendship strong."

"And tonight, you're coming with us," Steve decides firmly. "Whether you want to or not."

Knowing you have no choice but to agree, you give them a sigh of defeat. "Fine. But you're paying."

"Cheers!"

As it turns out, date night involves a lot of drinking.

"We should eat before we get too drunk," Steve says, picking up a food menu from the middle of the table. While he peruses through it, Bucky kisses your neck and wraps his arms around you, making you squeal.

"Buck, we're in public!" You remind him, thankful that the restaurant has dim lighting.

"It's okay, newbie," He insists with a lopsided grin. "We know the owner."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you do."

"Let's just get more drinks," Steve mumbles to himself.

"I thought you guys were gonna teach me how to flirt," You whine, pushing Bucky away.

"We are, twinkie," Steve insists, putting down the menu and reaching his hands out to you. Once you take them, he leans forward. "Look into my eyes. What do you see?"

Staring into the drops of ocean, you tilt your head. "Uh... blue?" You offer.

"You wanna know why Steve calls you twinkie?" Bucky suddenly interjects through chuckles.

Frowning, you turn to him. "Because he likes Twinkies?"

"Oh, you're adorable," Bucky coos while Steve bites back his grin. With a smirk, Bucky brings his lips to your ear and mumbles, "It's 'cause he wants to fill you with his cream."

You gasp, wrapping your hand around Bucky's forearm while gaping at Steve. "Is that true, Rogers?" You question him. Saying nothing, he simply shoots you a wink, filling your stomach with butterflies.

"Anyway," Bucky chimes in, nudging your shoulder. "You ever been on a date before?"

Getting over your shock, you nod at him. "A few. All terrible," You answer.

"Let's roleplay," Steve suggests excitedly, rubbing his palms together as he sits up. "Hi, I'm Steve. What's your name, beautiful?"

The compliment makes heat rush to your cheeks as you giggle, unable to meet his eyes. "I- Steve, stop," You whine.

"Oh, Steven, stop," Bucky mocks you in a high-pitched voice, poking your cheek. 

"Shut up!" You cry, pushing him away. "I just- I'm not used to being flirted with, alright?"

"Yeah, we've seen what you're like around Thor, we know," Steve says with a smirk. "We need to desensitize you. Get you used to receiving compliments."

"We'll just throw some at you until you stop reacting," Bucky says, leaning his face on his hand as he stares at you. "You're so fuckin' pretty."

Your heart flutters and you look away from him, distracting yourself with your straw.

"And unbelievably sexy," Steve adds lowly as he leans further in from his place across the booth. "How are you single?"

"You smell really good," Bucky continues, slowly blinking at you. "I just wanna eat you."

"You're stunning. Will you marry me?" Steve asks, taking your hand.

Laughing, you shake your head and hope it masks your overwhelm. "Okay, you can stop now," You tell them sternly.

"See, Steve and I just let compliments in one ear and out the next," Bucky tells you arrogantly. "You know, 'cause we get them so much."

"Try and flirt with Buck," Steve challenges you with a grin, sitting back as he picks up his glass.

You sit up, clear your throat and turn to Bucky. Meeting his eyes, you take a deep breath before saying, "You're really hot."

He smirks, shooting you a wink. "I know. Want my number?" He offers.

"Uh, sure," You reply, disappointed at how cool he's being. Wanting to fluster him, you recall what happened a few nights ago in your kitchen when you accidentally made him blush. As he hands you his phone, you lower your voice due to your nerves and ask, "Are you gonna be a good boy for me?"

His breath hitches in his throat and Steve chokes on his drink. The two of them say nothing as they try to recover, Steve wiping his mouth and Bucky looking away to hide his pink cheeks.

"I did it!" You exclaim giddily. "I made you blush!"

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Steve asks you wide eyes, to which you shrug.

"That's cheating, that-" Bucky rubs his face, shaking his head. "You cheated."

"All's fair in love and war," You tease him. "Besides, what I did was flirting. I did exactly what Steve told me to do."

"That was a step above flirting," Steve corrects you. "It's bordering on dirty talk."

"Dirty talk? You guys haven't even taught me that yet!" You say, taken aback.

"I guess we didn't need to. Or, Bucky just makes his mommy kink that obvious," Steve mutters.

"Mom- oh," You utter with wide eyes, slowly turning back to Bucky. You can't help but smile at him, making him huff.

"Steve's got one, too!" He deflects, sitting up.

"Really? Both of you?" You wonder curiously, before smirking.

"What's that evil look for, huh?" Bucky asks you with a frown.

You shrug with a smug look. "Well, you guys know how to fluster me, and now I can return the favor," You tell him coyly. "So, the next time you wanna turn me on in the office, just remember that I have the same power."

"Oh, please," Bucky scoffs. "What are you gonna do? Call me a good boy again?"

Smiling, you lean in closer and stroke his cheek gently. "Maybe. Or, maybe I'll just tell you how how proud I am of how hard you've been working," You say softly, before glancing over at Steve. "And I'll tell you both how pretty you look, and how lucky mommy is to have you."

While they silently attempt to process your words, you inwardly gleam, incredibly thankful for Sam's mommy kink and Wanda's inability to keep anything to herself.

"Have you been having lessons with someone else?" Steve asks you with narrow eyes.

"No!" You insist through a hearty laugh. "I may be a virgin, but that doesn't mean I don't have friends, or access to the Internet. I know a lot more than you two think."

"Jesus," Bucky breathes out, running his hand through his hair. With a grin, you rest your head on his chest, patting his leg comfortingly.

"Hey, twinkie," Steve suddenly begins. "There's a good looking man at the bar. Go, flirt with him."

"Are you insane?" You ask him with a scoff.

"Do it!" Bucky piles on, nudging your arm. "It'll be good for you to get some practice before you see Thor tomorrow."

Looking over at the bar, you spot the guy they're talking about. He's cute, but not intimidatingly so. Deciding to bite the bullet, you stand up and exit the booth. The boys watch with delight and excitement as you make your way over to the bar, breathing deeply.

You can do this. It's just a man. Worst thing he'll do is ignore you.

"Hey," The word escapes your mouth before you even think it as you sidle up to the bar and take a seat next to him. Shit. What now?

He looks surprised as he turns to you, raising a brow. "Hi, there," He replies, smiling. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, I need a drink," You state bluntly. "Recommend me something?"

"Well, my ex liked mango margaritas," He tells you with a hint of dejection.

Channeling your inner fuckboy, you rest your chin on your hand and lean in. "If she dated you, I trust her taste," You say coyly, surprising yourself with the flirty comment. "But how about I help you forget she ever existed?

"Yeah?" He asks with a smirk, looking you up and down. "My name's Matt."

"Y/N," You reply coolly. "Do you come here often?"

"Actually, I'm only in New York for a few days on business," He informs you, picking up his beer. "How long you been working in the city?"

His wording is odd, but you ignore it . "Moved here earlier in the year," You tell him with a smile. "Where are you from?"

"Boston," He answers, glancing down at your chest. "Though, I don't suppose that matters much to a girl like you, does it?"

Slightly confused, you brush it off. "Sure," You quip.

"Let's skip the small talk," He says, lowering his voice. "How much for an hour, darlin'?"

It takes you a few moments to realize what he's talking about. Shocked, you do your best to hide it. "Oh. Uh..."

Matt chuckles softly, leaning in. "I get it. You don't wanna talk numbers out here," He says, patting the bar. "I'm gonna go take a leak, and then how about I take you to my hotel? However much it is, it'll be worth it."

You part your lips, but no words come out.

"See you in a few," He greets you before standing up and leaving, after lightly hitting your ass, making you gasp.

The second he disappears into the bathroom, you get up and pace back to the booth, eyes wide. "We have to go!" You exclaim to the boys who look confused. "Now!"

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks as the two of them stand up. "It looked like it was going well."

"He touched your ass, didn't he?" Steve asks before glaring at Bucky. "I told you I wasn't just seeing things."

"He thinks I'm an escort," You reveal hurriedly. "And any second now, he's gonna come out of the toilets and expect me to come with him to his hotel. So let's go, now!"

The two of them burst into laughter, following you as you rush out of the restaurant.

"Wait, wait, wait," Steve calls out as you reach the end of the street. "We're not going home yet. Let's go get ice cream."

Pleasantly surprised, you raise a brow while catching your breath. "Like a real date?" You ask once your heartbeat regulates.

"This is a real date," Bucky insists with a tone of offence.

"Yes, it is," Steve echoes, smiling at you. "And real dates end with ice cream."

"Do you think it's possible you have any kids out there?"

Your question makes Steve snort. "Okay, we may be fuckboys, but we're not stupid," He says.

"Yeah, and you know we stay wrapped since chlamydia-gate," Bucky adds as the three of you walk through Central Park, ice cream cones in hand. It's a pleasant evening with a calm breeze, the sun setting behind you.

"Just wondering, 'cause you know, Sarah got pregnant three years ago and the timelines match up," You tell them casually. The two of them stop in their tracks, jaws slack as they stare at you in silence. You wait a few minutes before laughing and nudging Steve's arm. "I'm kidding," You reveal, making them relax. "Her baby was born, like, eight months ago."

"She has a kid?" Bucky asks with a frown. "Who's the dad? We might know him."

"Uh, I don't know his name," You tell them. "He's just some jerk that skipped town when they found out."

Steve remains quiet with his eyes on the ground. You slightly regret bringing Sarah up, as it seems to still be a sore subject.

"That sucks," Bucky mumbles, before a silence falls over you.

After a few minutes pass, you walk ahead and turn to face them, giving then a smile. "Okay - roleplay time," You announce. "What do I do if I'm on a date and he tries to kiss me?"

A small smile pulls at Steve's lips. "You kick him in the balls," He answers you immediately.

"Be serious," You whine, walking backwards. "I wanna be ready for it. I know how to kiss, but I wanna be comfortable with sudden kissing. You know, like if he were to just plant one on-"

Bucky cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, making your eyes widen for a split second. You do your best to relax and melt into it, kissing him back for a few moments before he pulls away. "You seemed pretty comfortable with that," He comments with a wink. "You just wanted a kiss, didn't you?"

Scoffing, you turn away. "Of course not."

"You're allowed to kiss us if you want," Steve tells you slyly. "Just treat us like sex dolls. Do whatever you want to us."

With heated cheeks, you grin, shaking your head. "I just- I didn't-"

"It's okay, newbie," Bucky assures you softly, resting his free hand on your hip. "We're sluts; we're down for whatever."

"Whatever," Steve echoes as he pushes Bucky out of the way before leaning down and kissing you gently. When he pulls away, he shoots you a wink. "Whenever."

The three of you continue your walk, finishing your ice creams and teasing each other. It's easily the best date you've ever been on, real or not.

"Hey, you should come over to our place, newb," Bucky says once the sun's completely gone and it's too dark to see your shoes.

Though your instinct is to say yes, you hesitate. "Uh, I don't know. It's getting late," You say, hugging yourself and rubbing your goosebump-covered arms. The boys rush to pull off their jackets, and you snort when they both try to put them on you.

"Mine's much warmer," Steve insists.

"Well, mine goes with her outfit," Bucky shoots back stubbornly.

"I don't need a jacket!" You exclaim, stepping away from them. "I just need two handsome men to walk me to my apartment."

"You're coming to ours," Steve decides firmly, linking his arm in yours.

"We have work in the morning-"

"And we can all carpool together," Bucky solves with a grin, linking his arm with your free one. "It'll be fun!"

"You haven't slept over yet," Steve points out as they begin walking in the direction of their house. "Sleepovers are a big part of dating. Don't you want your first one to be with us?"

"I've had sleepovers before," You tell him with a frown.

"We don't mean the braiding hair and painting nails kind," Bucky corrects you. "We mean the bumping uglies kind."

You cringe, raising your shoulders up to your neck. "I hate that phrase," You grimace.

"What do you prefer? Netflix and chill?" Steve offers. "Amazon Prime and alone time? YouTube and raw-dogging?"

"That last one is definitely not a thing!" You snort, shaking your head.

"We can make it a thing," Bucky says coyly, smirking down at you.

Sighing, you shake your head. "I'm on my period."

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. "Who said anything about sex?"

You let out a heavy laugh and say, "You did! Mr. YouTube and raw-dogging!"

"Come on, twinkie, stay the night," Bucky requests sweetly. "Promise, we'll be good. No sex, just movies, snacks, and maybe some making out. If you're lucky."

"And we'll both big-spoon you," Steve adds. "Extra comfort."

"What if I leak on you?" You ask hesitantly.

Steve rolls his eyes. "We're grown men; we can handle a bit of blood," He claims.

"Or a lot," Bucky chimes in. "You know, if you have a heavy flow."

With narrow eyes, you sigh and give in. "Fine."

An hour later, the three of you are lying in Steve's bed. One of the Fast and Furious movies are playing while you're pretending to be watching, when you're actually just enjoying how their strong arms feel around you.

"This is the best part," Bucky whispers for the fourth time since the movie began.

"Mhm," You reply while tracing lines on his abs. After a few seconds, you snort. "I can't believe that guy thought I was an escort."

"How forward were you being?" Steve asks between laughs.

"I was just flirting with him!" You swear. "I don't know what made him think that."

"Probably ain't used to pretty women approaching him first," Bucky guesses.

"You think I'm pretty?" You ask him through a grin, latching onto his arm.

He smiles down at you, rolling his eyes. "Nah. Not at all," He states bluntly.

"That's mean," You whine, before turning to Steve. "Tell him, Stevie. He's being mean."

"Don't be mean to my girl, Buck," He scolds him.

"I think you mean my girl," Bucky corrects him.

"I think you both mean future Thor's girl," You mumble, regretting it the second the words leave your mouth.

The boys immediately turn their attention to you. Grinning madly, they share a look before attacking you.

"Stop!" You scream as they tickle you, thrashing your legs around. "Stop it, please!"

Showing mercy, they both pull away, still smiling widely. "You're so cute!" Bucky exclaims, poking your side and making you convulse.

"You wanna be Thor's girl, huh?" Steve questions with a raised brow. "And what makes him so worthy of having you?"

"He's cute, and tall, and has an accent," You list off. "That makes him worthy."

"Don't worry, newbie," Bucky says assuringly, patting your head. "Once we've trained you up, you'll have him wrapped around your finger."

"You might even set your sights a little higher than Thor when you become a slut like us," Steve hypothesizes.

"Higher than Thor? Not likely," You say with a dry laugh.

"Yep. He's the best," Bucky says as his eyes flicker up to meet Steve's, wondering if they hold the same green tinge as his. Wondering if he's just as jealous.

i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post.

buy me a kofi <3

[andysbubba]

going on twitter SCARES me