Swindled (Proxies x Reader)

One: Apple Juice is Pretty Great

The subway station was absolutely manky. Peak-hour had passed its height, but some people were still rushing here and there to get to their platforms; the bathrooms; their silly little big important office jobs; or god-knows-where.

The danger, to you, were the people who stood stationary. The ones on their phones or with their noses stuck in magazines were alright, but it was the ones who just sat there who bothered you. And this morning, there seemed more of them than usual.

For one, because it was fucking weird - like, get a hobby - and for another, because you wanted no witnesses for your cute little crime. Therefore, the perfect target - or better yet, targets - had to be out of view. Easier said than done. You cursed yourself for waking up so late. It was far easier to just blend in with the huge peak-hour crowd and slip your hand into someone's pocket. A quiet station required actual finesse. You disliked finesse.

You rocked on your heels and checked the time on your beat-up iPhone 5: 9:46am. Just one hour earlier, and you would've been sweet. Dammit, (Y/n), you lazybones.​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you began to walk parallel to the tracks, eyes scouring the quiet nooks and crannies along the far wall. Empty. Empty. Empty - wait.

You tried to look inconspicuous as you took a half-step back, eyes lighting up as you confirmed what you'd seen. In the divot directly across from you, was a coca-cola vending machine, and three frustrated-looking young men. You lowered your hood and stalked towards them, stopping a short distance away to think out your approach.

"Toby, let it go," one of the men said, tone deadpan and tired. He was tall - freakishly tall - and stocky. His back was to you, but you could discern that his hair was a lightish brown. And, that he had a very nice, shiny looking phone poking the pocket of his leather jacket. Score.

​​​​​​​"No!" exclaimed the one that was probably called Toby, who was vigorously kicking the vending machine with his battered up converse. "I puh-payed two dollars for that!" Your keen eyes didn't miss the fancy phone in his hand. Double score.

"No you didn't," said the third, shortest, man. He was dark-haired with broad shoulders and the ugliest jacket you'd ever seen. "That was my two dollars, dick." In this final guys pocket? A cigarette pack and an iPhone 13. Triple-motherfucking-score.

As you made your approach, trying to look nonchalant, you fished two bucks from the darkest depths of your jean ass-pocket. This should be a doozy.

You tiptoed up right behind the men, and cleared your throat, feigning a touch of awkwardness. "Uhh, you guys good?" As all three turned to look, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear for good measure.

What struck you first was the expression on each of their faces - all the same. They were looking at you like a trio of deers caught in headlights. Your eyes flitted between the three of them, and you blinked sweetly, awaiting a response. Had they all gone mute?

After what felt like eternity, the one with the ugly jacket spoke up. "We're fine."

"Really?" You said, exaggerating a look from the vending machine to the Toby kid and back again. "Because I've got a couple bucks, could try and loosen it for ya!" You were never this bubbly in your personal life - as a matter of fact, you were kind of a sarcastic little bitch.

Ugly jacket guy spoke again, gruffly. "That's okay."

Tough crowd. You laughed him off, turning your attention to the Toby kid, who was eyeing the two bucks in your hand and practically drooling. Easy target. "Well, I dunno about you but I'm pretty thirsty."

The Toby kid nodded fervently and made room for you to get to the machine. You sauntered over, but right as you were passing ugly jacket man, you oh-so-accidentally trod on your own shoelace and teetered sideways. Like you were betting, he didn't reach out to catch you. Perfect; you squealed girlishly as you collided with his side, and his fancy-shmancy phone somehow made its way into the huge interior pocket of your own black jacket.

"I'm so sorry!" You hastily apologised and stepped away from him, trying not to smirk as the Toby kid cackled.

Jacket man only glowered at you, "Watch it."

"Sorry," you squeaked again, then shuffled over to the vending machine. "Let's see here..." you said, surveying the options. Looking down, you saw that the Toby kid had been trying to kick down a halfway-stuck can of Vanilla Coke. You tried not to scrunch your nose at the poor choice of soda, but couldn't hide your disdain when you noticed that your only options to try and knock the sugary bastard down were diet iced tea, or apple juice.

"That's shi-it." You jumped. His voice was right in your ear, and when you looked straight ahead you could make out the Toby kid's grinning reflection right by your own.

"It's alright," you shrugged and tried to shake off the sudden heavy thudding of your heart. "Apple juice is pretty great." His grin grew wider, somehow amused.

Wanting to get away from the intrusion on your personal space, and also before any of these rude fuckers noticed that they'd been bamboozled, you wasted no more time in punching in the number and feeding the machine your cash.

Whizzz! Clunk! Clunk!

​​​​​​​The Toby kid hooted as your Apple juice knocked his Vanilla Coke loose. You turned to him with a grin, hand extended to give him a bro-hug. He accepted without a thought, as you'd hoped, and as you clapped him on the back with one hand, his phone mysteriously ended up inside your jacket pocket. Weird.

You let the Toby kid reach down and pull out the drinks. He'd already cracked his open and taken a large gulp, before his friend - the huge one - cleared his throat. He seemed to remember something, then sheepishly tossed you your apple juice. You laughed like you thought it was cute, then began to back away, hands busy opening the lid

"Well, catch y'all later," you said cheerily, poking out your tongue in mock concentration as you struggled with the drink. Last one.

You waited until you'd rounded the big guy to tap him sheepishly on the upper back. He swivelled away from his friends, eyebrows raised as he looked down at you. Damn, this guy was big. You laughed awkwardly and held your apple juice out to him. "Would you mind..."

Men could never resist a damsel in distress. You whooped a victory tune in your head as he wordlessly took juice and cracked it open between his forefinger and thumb. You pretended to laugh at how easy he made it look as you took it back from him and thanked him, and he gave you a wry smile before he turned back to face his friends.

Just as you were both turning away from each other, you brushed your small hand oh-so-lightly over his side - and his shiny new phone somehow ended in your pocket, along with the others. Funny how that kept happening.

Once you made it around the corner, with nobody around, you dumped the apple juice in a nearby trash can and broke into a sprint.