#i felt an overwhelming need to draw a little gremlin today

[avifaunaa]

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ]

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys just a quick note. I go a bit into Natasha's entrance into the U.S. and exit from the Red Room in a sort of big chunk of this. It involves Clint being there as her buddy and as someone who helps her get used to her new life. If you're just here for smut I apologize greatly. I do get to it but I wanted to have Nat be a large focus in this fic! That said -- I hope you enjoy it otherwise. This is an AU where Thanos simply doesn’t live after infinity war. They get to him in time.

Masterlist

PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha was adept at many things: assassination, spying, avenging — they made for a great resume. What she wasn’t quite so adept at was understanding you when she returns from her exile and found you at her beloved table.

Content Warnings: Discussions of culture shock and Natasha's integration into the States, SLOW BURN TO GET TO THE SMUT, Mild-to-moderate angst, SO SOFT, hints that R's parents are absent / neglectful at best, Yelena and Kate being immediate gremlins upon introduction

Word Count: ~7.9k

Men and Minors DNI

Natasha Romanoff did not indulge in many things for herself. 

Growing up, it was because she was never offered such things. Enjoying 'the small things in life' was simply not an option in the Red Room and Dreykov was particular about ensuring what his girls consumed. Even the smallest comforts could lead to the idea of freedom.

One of the first things Natasha did when she walked away -- after signing an agreement with the United States government, with S.H.I.E.L.D., -- was get coffee. With Clint.

"You ever had coffee? You've had to have coffee," the Hawkeye said as though it were obvious. They had just been transferred back to the U.S. after a successful escape from Budapest. Growing close in tight quarters had meant learning a little about one another between them listening and watching the people go about their lives.

And between the games of hang-man and tic-tac-toe. Another introduction from Clint, seeming flabbergasted that he had to explain the concept of both games to Natasha who, despite her brief stay in America as a child, simply did not know either game.

She learned quickly and had eventually started to defeat him.

"Once," Natasha replied shortly following behind the bruised and filthy man into the bustling New York shop. "For a mission. To blend in."

Clint did not ask her to elaborate, but he clapped his hands together loud enough to garner some curious looks towards the two [ who already stood out like bleeding, infected thumbs needing to be amputated ].

"Wonderful," he chortled, eyes focusing on the chalk-board menus hanging above the barista bar. Fake vines wrapped invitingly around the signs and little drawings decorated the corners.

Natasha did not know -- could not know -- if she hated such a sight of casual happiness when her entire world before today was never allowed this.

"What do I get?" the redhead asked as the line grew closer.

"Whatever you want," he responds as his muscled arm gestured to the various pastry displays and again at the hanging menu board. "Everything here is different. Some things are iced others are hot. Do you want it made like a caffeinated milkshake? Ask for a frappe, I guess."

"Why so many options?" Natasha questioned next, frowning and feeling slightly overwhelmed.

She would never admit that even her fine training and brutal grooming couldn't have prevented some of this culture shock. The Red Room was able to prevent her from seeking out these luxuries in the name of her duties -- they scarcely deigned to say what luxuries they were.

Natasha felt as though she were face to face with one now. Why so many choices when not one person can try nor like them all? She did not even want to look at the amount of food inside of the displays stacked. 

She knew the reality of what happens to the food not finished after a store closes. Thrown out and wasted while others hunger for prices they cannot afford.

"Natasha?" They were at the counter now, where all the thick scents of coffee beans and other smells unfamiliar were at their strongest. "Anything look good?"

Natasha scanned the board for something and to squash that overwhelming lump that threatened to rise from her stomach and into her throat, she just said, "Coffee, black."

Clint groaned from beside her as he pulled out a battered wallet. Natasha watched as he used a credit card to pay and wondered if that would be another luxury given to her.

The Red Room gave them everything they saw as a necessity. Money for missions was sent through a wire transfer to a bank account to withdraw as cash. Mostly to keep their mission as untraceable as possible, but also to control the Widows by only ever giving them enough to get through their assignment. 

Running away never worked out for most who tried, anyway.

Clint nudged her a moment later. "C'mon, let's get you sat down okay?"

"Where?"

Clint shrugged more dramatically than needed as he once again used his arms to gesture to the open plan floor where some tables were taken and some sofas around a fire-place hosted people as well. Other tables and some overstuffed leather chairs remained vancant.

"Wherever the heart desires, Nat. No assigned seating required. I'll wait for the order -- why don't you find somewhere for us to sit?"

Natasha wanted to do something other than that.  People hardly bothered her in most circumstances -- people had been her job for her entire life. But she was not used to people in a casual context where there was no target to watch out for, no enemies to ensure weren't around with you.

But her feet were moving anyway, avoiding the high traffic tables and definitely shying away from the social circle the fireplace seemed to attract.

She found an empty table near the back close to the hallway leading to the bathrooms where the volume wasn't so thick and where her back could sit comfortably where less amounts of threats were.

She sat awkwardly, arms crossing across the table as she waited. Her eyes floated around the small but busy shop and took in the scene. A mother handing her child a small lidded cup of chocolate milk, a delighted look in the kiddo's eyes, as she adjusted her bag and grabbed her own cup of coffee and started leading the child out the door.

"Clint!" a low-sung voice called out clearly. Clint practically skipped to the counter where two different drinks awaited him as he thanked the barista and turned around on his heel with a swerve.

He spotted Natasha pretty quickly and danced through the crowd -- but he actively involved himself in people instead of avoiding them. He said cheerful "excuse me's!" and a very scolded "pardon" to an elderly couple he nudged the table of as he approached.

"That was a lot of foot work when you could have walked around," the Russian told him when he finally made a safe approach with a smug grin. 

"What, and not show off my circus-grade balancing act? I don't think so," he retorted with an even wider grin as he set both drinks down with a flourish. 

Natasha bit her tongue when a comment almost forced its' way out. Instead she turned her gaze to the two drinks on the table and read their labels. BLACK read one, the other in a clear tall cup with heavy ice, ICED MOCHA.

Clint pulled his toward him and pulled a straw out of nowhere [ later, Natasha would admit she was still impressed by it for a month until she learned his secret to the trick ] and popped it into the drink's lid.

"I cannot believe," he starts, dropping into the chair across from her and leaning back comfortably, "that I bring you to one of the best coffee shops New York City has to offer and you insult me--"

"It is all the same -- the same intentions, yes?" she asked as she brought the hot drink up to her lips. It was bitter like the one or two other times she'd had coffee but this flavor had a hint of hazelnut. Perhaps a different brand?

"Sure, I mean sort of?" Clint scratched the chin scruff he'd began growing in Budapest. "Some people can't stand the bitterness of normal coffee or don't like it hot. That's why there's so many different ways to get it."

"I don't see the point."

"Would you eat pizza the same way as someone who say . . . likes anchovies?"

Natasha lets herself think on it. The one time she had pizza was when she was with Melina and Alexi as a child. She could still remember how melted the cheese was -- that was the type they got. Cheese. Alexi got some sort of "Americanized Everything" as he called it.

She answered with, "I suppose not. Anchovies are not good."

Clint laughed. "Right. Not everyone wants anchovy on pizza but they still want the pizza. The same goes for coffee. They want the coffee but they may not like how bitter or hot it is. So there's different flavors, different ways to make it. Iced, blended, the works."

"I see," Natasha said as she sipped at her bitter, hot coffee while Clint held his not bitter, hot coffee. "What form did you get?"

"I like mine iced with extra chocolate syrup," he told her. He eyed her, grinned, then nudged it closer. "Wanna try?"

She blinked at him. "It is your drink, I have my own."

Clint raised a bloodied [ days old and dried ] eyebrow at her. "So? It doesn't mean there's a contract that legally binds you from tasting it. Just try it. If you don't end up liking it, you know to not get it next time."

Natasha regards the drink for a moment as it was offered. She decided that she's already done so many things that she shouldn't otherwise be doing -- she was no longer working with Dreykov. Dreykov was dead and he could not touch her.

She leaned over and took a sip. It was definitely cold and tasted like coffee but had a chocolate taste and was sweeter than anything she's ever tasted.

"Good? Terrible? Wanna pull your tongue out and burn it?" Clint wondered. 

Natasha smiled a little at him. "I think I like it very much."

Over the years, Natasha would keep coming back to this coffee shop. She learned its name and kept it safe — especially when the attack of New York occurred. 

It had been destroyed when she got to it but she was able to save everyone inside. They rebuilt and continued on as anyone can do when a disaster strikes and shock that aliens exist have made the human brain barely able to cope. 

The first time they opened since the attack was when Natasha decided to try something new. She had been able to do many new things: become an Avenger, work somewhat nicely with other people, and above all: save the world with Tony Stark and not kill him in the process. 

She’d been greeted reverently by the staff who had starshine in their eyes and gratitude to give. 

It was overwhelming. She wanted to run away and never come back again. 

She ordered an iced mocha with extra chocolate syrup, instead. To go — because too many people were starting to come in. Regulars of the store that she’d recognized but ones that now knew her too. It was too much to handle at once and she needed her exterior to stay solid. 

They threw in a free pastry — she didn’t see what it was but heard the crinkling of the bag sat down by her as she leaned against the counter. She took her coffee and unwanted bread product of unknown origin and left. 

She didn’t return for three weeks. 

When she did she made Steve come with her. They’d grown close the more the government had implemented the Avengers program after the attack and had suffered Tony in bogus amounts. 

[ They grew to love Tony, too, if only because he knew how to handle the public more than even Steve but also because he was able to make them forget ]. 

Steve was better at this thing — the superhero persona. He took it in stride and spoke warmly with people when approached, offering conversation and knowing how to slip away from it politely and smoothly. 

This time while Steve was talking to a young pretty blonde near the entrance, Natasha ordered a macchiato. She got Steve his enormously detailed drink he’d listed off for her before being taken to the side and she threw in a couple of pie slices. Blueberry. 

She almost believed she could stay this time. Her table was open and it was still early enough to enjoy the energy before the morning rush took over and invaded their space. 

Natasha turned to Steve and said, “Okay, Captain America, your coffee is getting cold. We should sit down and eat our pies before we get called back.”

A perfect exit, a glance of relief from the blonde hero, and they sat down. Nat facing the front again but for entirely different reasons this time. 

She picked at her pie slice with a plastic fork while Steve drank his coffee and ate his with just the right amount of speed to not concern other patrons. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he told her, looking around comfortably at the shop. It looked somewhat the same rebuilt — perhaps more updated in terms of structure but otherwise not as new as one could come to think. “This is your hideout?”

Natasha played with a blueberry that fell from the crust. “It was.”

Steve regarded her for a silent minute, then sighed and set down his fork. “You’re not settling well with the attention.”

“I’m doing fine.” She didn’t glance up at him. They were the defacto leaders of their little operation even if Fury believed he was. Besides Clint, it was Steve that Nat was starting to confide in for some things. 

For others he seemed to read her like an open fucking book that she had previously managed to keep chained and locked tight. 

America was making her soft. 

“You’re lying,” he decided after a moment, then took a sip of his coffee and said nothing more. 

She waited for him to dig further, but he simply went back to his pie and coffee. She watched him suspiciously. “What — no pep talk about how this is my life now? How I should find a way to live with it so that I can better serve the people?”

Steve tapped his chin. “I’d say you’re living with this life in the best way you can, Nat. I don’t exactly know your entire story but I do know that you worked with people like I did but uh —“ he squinted, “oppositely.”

“You can say I killed people, Steve,” she sighed. Her pie was pushed back, uneaten. 

Steve nodded. “Okay. You killed people — maybe they didn’t deserve it but for whatever reason you were sent to do it. You didn’t ask questions but you did as you were told. I was in the army and they essentially ran the same rules but we did it on a greater scale in a massive war instead of in the shadows. Killing was in the job.”

“You became Captain America,” Natasha told him bluntly, curling her lip slightly, “A man that brought great comfort and safety to his country and protected them with the serum they never knew he had running in his veins. But they didn’t have to know — because you did good.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed, looking slightly sadder, “and maybe some of the men I killed could’ve been good. Because I didn’t ask.”

Natasha smiled at him, sadly, “I don’t think so, Steve. They let you play publicly like they let the Red Guardian in Russia play.”  She tapped her fingers against the table. “I was never meant to be a hero in anyone’s stories. I was always their nightmare and a blacked out mention on the paperwork and files.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say, how to comfort her. That was okay. Natasha wouldn’t know what to do with comfort or gentleness. She strayed away from it like she strayed away from her mistresses beatings in her ballet lessons. 

“In truth,” Natasha says, pulling her coffee closer in hopes it will ground her better than she can ground herself, “I needed you here because maybe I struggle being the part of someone’s story that doesn’t bring endless grief and anger.”

She watched now as the customers began going about their business and pretended that Captain America and the Black Widow were just ordinary people among them. 

“Right now, I’m just trying to figure out how to find my place in a world that wasn’t initially meant for me.”

She met you after the long, destructive battle that ended with the death of Thanos — and Vision with him. Wanda had vanished and Natasha knew she’d be called in when they found traces of her. 

But for now she was home. The drive from the compound was longer than the walk from the Tower but that’s okay. 

“Natasha,” Fiona, the manager, greeted with a small smile and quiet demeanor. “Welcome back. I saw what you did in Wakanda. What you and the Avengers all did.”

Natasha smiles in return, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “Ah, news travels fast now. It was a group effort.”

“I’m glad your name got cleared by the Accords. It wasn’t right,” she continued, shaking her head stiffly, “After all you did. You and Captain America. It simply wasn’t right,” she repeated.

“It’s okay,” Natasha told her with a relaxed stance as she put her hands into her jacket pockets. She was somewhat truthful. It was okay — the fight with Thanos had forgiven a lot of things. 

The government had turned their head and seemingly forgotten who their named fugitives were. Lost the paperwork and welcomed their beloved heros back as though it never happened. 

The other half of Natasha and the others — the halves that had sacrificed a lot of themselves over the years — were still angry and demanding more. 

“It’s being taken care of,” the redhead-turning-blonde continued as she graced an easy smile toward Fiona. “I’m just happy to be home. I missed this place.”

“We missed you too! We kept your streak for what you’ve tried and what you haven’t,” the small barista exclaimed, crouching down and digging under some shelves presumably. 

She pulled out a white board that was somewhat on the verge of being erased with all the scuffs it had on its writing. But thankfully it was still legible. She was on course for trying the caramel apple mocha next. 

She went with that. “Frappe or cappe?” 

Natasha thought for a moment. “Let’s do it as a frappe,” she decided, pulling out her wallet and handing over the sleek black credit card labelled with the large STARK INDUSTRIES on top. 

Fiona swiped it once before handing it back, “It’ll be out very soon,” she said as she hopped over to the machines to start making her order. 

Natasha meandered over to the pickup counter, finding a spot on the corner to lean against and pull out her phone. The chubby, slobbery face of Nathaniel grinning next to Cooper and Lila greeted her when she looked at her Lock Screen. 

She had one text from Tony regarding her rooms at the compound needing to be Clint-proofed [ “Why are you trying to keep me out of your life?” Clint bemoaned when he called her from the blocked off vents later that night ].

She sent a quick text, telling Tony to add flamethrowers to the vent walls if needed to keep the Hawkeye from breaking the damn thing. 

Tony only sent back a devil emoji followed by three fire emojis. 

Natasha snorted and pocketed her phone as Fiona came over capping the top of her drink, extra whipped cream spilling out the top. 

“Here you go,” she chirped proudly as she slid over the drink. “I did add a little of the spice that we use for our pumpkin flavored drinks. It’s really good with this one too.”

“I trust your judgement, Fiona,” Natasha said as she took the drink in hand and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll let you know how I like it.”

“Please do! Your reviews keep us busy.”

Natasha turned and tapped the cup with her fingers as she looked for her table. It was busy already this morning but Natasha had quickly learned that blending in could be as easy or as difficult as she made it. 

She said hello to some people who greeted her first, and made some small conversations. The regulars knew she liked to keep to herself until she finished her drink, however, and left her alone with just a smile and short greeting. 

But she came to a stop shortly. 

Someone was at her table, littering the surface with notebooks and a textbook opened that they seemed to be deeply focused on. 

Natasha kept walking towards her table cautiously, suddenly greeted with a new challenge in her comfort zone. 

Small talk was an effort — but maybe —

You looked up and they struck Natasha like a speeding car with no intentions to stop. They were so brown — your eyes. Rich in the color and fierce in the cold New York sun. 

She expected shock when you realized who she was. Some sort of spluttering hello. 

But you only looked slightly irked as you pulled out an AirPod she didn’t see you wearing before and said, “Why the hell are you staring at me?”

This was the worst place for you to have chosen to study — especially since you chose to do it during the height of Winter Break.

Kate had insisted on its perfect aura, the warmth it was saturated in. You called her dramatic and she didn’t answer any of your texts the rest of the night other than to spam emojis at every message you sent her. 

Whatever, you thought, as you settled at a table with your newly ordered dark chocolate frappe. It was five in the morning with no sun, few to no people, and sugar and caffeine to keep you going now even if it led to the inevitable crash later. 

You got to work with pulling your textbook out and beginning to take extremely detailed notes that you can make even more detailed study cards on at a later date. 

It was hours before an intrusion broke you from your study fever. It wasn’t a forceful one, either, but it demanded attention enough that it had you pulling focus after hours of studying with no end in sight. 

You pointedly ignored it as best you can, hoping that your music and the lack of eye contact would send a strong and clear message: leave me alone, I don’t wish for human contact. 

The message went undelivered as did the feeling of being watched. When you wrote the same bullet point down twice, your eye twitched and you finally gave in. 

Removing your AirPod and breaking your peace when the bustle and surroundings of the shop filtered into your space, you stared back with no motivation to hide how irate you were. 

The words came out long before your brain could process who, exactly, you were talking to.

“Why the hell are you staring at me?” you hissed out. Your eyes dragged upward just as the sentence fully formed and you suddenly wished you were not so eager. 

The Black Widow was staring at you, apparently. Dressed down from battle gear in a pair of jeans and a soft turtleneck, long hair down in waves. But that was the Black Widow without a doubt. 

You couldn’t back down now, you’d lose all respect if she had any when approaching you to begin with. No — you held your ground. You had to. 

Green eyes, green darker than gardens and well-cared for parks, crossed yours. Surprise lit up within them briefly — but it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said perfectly polite, with an apologetic smile forming on her features. “I didn’t even mean to just stare like I did. Sorry.”

Really? You rubbed at your aching temple and glanced down at your phone. 8:45. You hadn’t moved for a good near four hours at the least. Your coffee was only half finished, and your hand writing had grown less organized on the sheets of paper beneath you. 

“It’s — it’s fine. I didn’t realize anybody was there. Or what time it was.” You flipped the textbook shut and clenched and unclenched your fingers. “No wonder you were staring. I must have looked like a zombified student.”

A soft laugh rose from the woman across from you, feet crossing as she stuck a hand into her jacket pocket. “Not at all. It actually had nothing to do with you, I must confess.”

You gave her a confused look. “What? Then why all the staring? If anything I should be giving you the wide eyed awestruck look.”

The Black Widow in all her glory and turtleneck sweaters suddenly seemed to grow shy. The smile remained but she tapped her fingers rhythmically against her cup. 

“It’s moreso that you’re at the table I usually sit at when I come here,” she confessed quietly, embarrassed at such a small thing to have been caught confused over. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been here so I should’ve expected that the table was likely to be used like I used it.”

You blinked at her confession to you, now more curious and being drawn out of your desire to over-study than ever. “Oh — right you were on the run for a while.”

“Yes,” she confirmed simply, lips thinning into a line as she glanced behind her. 

“You can sit here if you want,” you said, breaking the silence and deciding you didn’t want her to have to leave. You moved your stuff. “I’ve been here since five. I mean, if you’re fine waiting while I finish my coffee I can be out of your hair.”

“I don’t mind, if you’re sure.” Natasha pulled out the chair and gave one more long glance toward the shop behind her before sitting down with her back to them and starting to slowly sip her coffee. “May I ask what you’re studying?”

“Oh. Sure. I’m majoring in electrical engineering with a minor in physics,” you said, turning the textbook slightly so she could see the title of it. 

“That’s a heavy major,” she mused, but didn’t say it in a way most usually did when you told them. “What made you want to go into that?”

You felt your cheeks turning red at the question — something you normally have no problem answering but now do considering who it is asking. “Well to be honest with you —“

“Honesty is always best,” the older woman agreed in a drawl, amusement glittering across her face. 

You puffed, still red, and redder more when Natasha’s amusement seemed to grow upon realizing why without you saying yet, “Okay. I’ve always been sort of interested in engineering. But Stark Industries is literally paving a new path into technology we otherwise wouldn’t break ground on. Imagine what we could do for people in war-torn nations with it? What about turning it to medical use for progress towards incurable diseases? Anything is possible because it hasn’t been done yet. I want to see it, to try it. Like Tony Stark was able to do with that access.”

You were expected to be given a lot of incredulous responses when you told people your ideals for your major. Your expectations were met — but Natasha simply looked thoughtful as she sipped her drink. 

“A passion like that could get you anywhere you want,” Natasha told her. “You have dreams that most people give up on. If they have the technology why haven’t they done it?”

A question you loved answering. “Because they don’t have anyone fighting to get it used in those specific areas, to be produced for those situations,” you replied, leaning closer, “Don’t you see? It needs someone or multiple people to see it for what it can do if given the time and the resources.”

Natasha tilted her head curiously, studying you with an unreadable expression, “You think you’re that person? The one who can make the change?”

A flush of defiance coursed through you at the question. “If nobody else will, who better than myself?”

“Where are you going to school?”

“I go to MIT. I’m currently on my winter break.”

“And yet you’re studying like you have a test tomorrow,” Natasha concluded. She glanced from the scurried notes to the textbook and back to you, as if trying to read you out and get your secrets. 

“I’m on a scholarship and otherwise wouldn’t be there,” you admitted carefully, chin lifting, “It was a lot of hard work to receive it and losing it isn’t an option.”

Natasha rested a hand on her fist — calloused from whatever dark past and Avengering has rewarded her — and regarded you with a startling feline-like expression. 

“Working hard and overworking are different, that will be important to remember. I didn’t know the difference when I was young either.”

“What made you learn?” You ask carefully. 

She pursed her lips and stared behind you at the hallway that held no interesting object to look upon. “I did ballet as apart of a program. I found it fun until my instructor made my ankles bleed every single day for every mistake I made each session.”

You swallowed your shock down and fisted your hands together on the table. “She sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Natasha barked out a laugh, the glazed distance disappearing and replaced by a spark as she returned to focus on you instead. A stray lock of hair lowered across her forehead as she relaxed slightly, “She was, I assure you. I did not know the difference between brutality and hardworking traits until I came to the states. Sometimes,” she finished, “I still do not and must be reminded that I am no longer a tool for anyone’s use that I do not myself see purpose in.”

“Wouldn’t you consider the Avengers program being a tool?” You wondered aloud without meaning to.

Her lips twisted, perhaps impressed by your bravery despite the accidental slip. “That is why you must choose carefully what games you want to play and with who. Who to be a tool for and who to destroy.”

“Are you saying I should take more breaks?” You finally ask. 

She grins smugly as she removes her chin from her fist and leans back in her chair like a fat cat. “Well done, Malyshka. I like playing with you.”

You pondered her words and sort of wanted to know what got you into this situation where the Black Widow was giving you confusing advice. 

Natasha and you were comfortably silent as you two sipped on your coffees together. You think you like whose is without the grandeur that the media tends to flash onto her. She’s thoughtful and quiet — and holy shit you just met and hardly know her. 

Natasha suddenly broke your peaceful silence, looking very serious as she says, “I know a guy I can connect you to at Stark Industries when you graduate if you’d like to get your feet off the ground. He’d probably be impressed with you.”

You stared blankly at her, brain shutting down for ten seconds and rebooting in that time. 

“What.”

Natasha played with her empty coffee cup, nonchalantly saying, “I know a guy —“

“I heard the first time,” you said, shaking your head a little bit to clear it, “You’re talking about Tony Stark. You — you’re willing to put a word in for me?”

Natasha nodded once with finality. “Yes. You remind me of Tony in ways that are all good — and yet you lack the parts of Tony that make me want to kill him.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

“So . . . Like what’s the catch?” You asked, stacking your notebook on top of your textbook and fiddling around to keep from exploding. “Because it’s weird to me that the Black Widow is sitting down across from me and offering me a gigantic opportunity.”

“Once in a life time,” she corrects, “But there isn’t really a catch. Just a request — the offer will still be open and I’ll ensure Tony gets you on his ledger when you graduate and apply.”

“Sure,” you said, pretty much willing to do anything. 

“May I have your number?”

It was so clearly an unexpected request and even you could see Natasha's confident request was followed by tinted cheeks and more taps on her empty cup.

You gave Natasha Romanoff your number.

Your first date with Natasha was at the coffee shop —  where you met at the table. You spent hours talking like the day before except for this time you got to know each other a bit more on a deeper level. 

You learned she adopted a cat straight off the street that wouldn’t leave her alone. A small black creature with wide yellow eyes. The photos she showed you led to you seeing photos of her nieces and nephews through the Clint Barton. 

“He’s chubby little dude,” you noted as you scooted your chair closer to her to see the photo better. 

“That’s what I said!” she exclaims, beaming at you and nudging your shoulder with hers. 

“Just look at him,” you continued, “those cheeks say it all.”

You learned a little about her and she you. You had similar tastes in music and entertainment, but when it came to movies it seemed you were at an impasse. 

This became evident when she showed up to your apartment for the second date and flashed two tickets to a new horror as snow fell around you both. 

Your head dropped in defeat as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you to her car. “I promise on Tony’s suit that I will protect you from the big bad.” Then she opened the passenger side door for you. 

With a heavy sigh and a suffering look sent her way, you plop into her car and wait for her to shut the door. 

She was a pretty decent protector at the movies. She armed you with sugary drinks and snacks and lifted the armrest between you two and opened an invitation into her arms at any point when it got scary. 

For you it did not take very long at all. You dived into her side and curled so tight when the first brutal murder flashed on the large screen. Natasha was smart, Natasha was clever. She wrapped her arm around you as you buried your face in her neck and grinned as she watched the movie without so much as flinching. 

They went to the coffee shop after to get the remaining heebeejeebies out of your system by chasing it down with caffeine. You notice Natasha thinking it over before ordering a plain mocha latte. 

“You ordered something different this time?” you asked her after she paid for both your orders like she had at the movies. 

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s something I’ve been working on. For a lot of my life I was devoid of choices. They were made for me. This helps me remember that decisions I make are my own, nobody else’s.”

“One unique coffee at a time,” you murmured as you brought your straw to your lips and felt something flutter in your chest. 

“One unique coffee at a time,” she echoed, meeting your gaze as she brought her own drink to her lips. 

The third date was the only one left before you would be set to return to MIT. You were firm on making plans for this one and Natasha didn’t argue. 

It was planned for after Christmas and New Year’s — somewhere you had to begrudgingly drag Kate over to help you set up. 

“A date? Good enough to go here?” she asked as you scrolled the website for the restaurant. 

“I really like her,” you say, licking your lips and unsure of what else to tell her in regards to Natasha. “She walked right up to me and . . . I don’t know. She sort of just missile fired into my life.”

Kate snorts, but leans against your pillows and nibbles at her cuticles. “Okay. This is a place I think is good if you really really like her. It’s expensive.”

You checked your bank account earlier. You had enough fun money left to spend on this date. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

Kate tapped a few things into her phone before handing it to you. “Then make the reservation.”

Natasha had to pick you up from your place — considering you didn’t have a car in New York at the moment. She was beautifully dressed in a styled pant-suit with her hair curled into a bun. She had some sort of watch you thought looked familiar but couldn’t remember the brand name of. 

You ran your hands down your glittery dress and hoped it would be enough to impress her. She came to greet you, reaching out to take your hands. “You said dress nice and you end up dressing nicer than me,” Natasha comments. 

You scoffed, fussing with your bracelet to distract yourself from her unwavering gaze and how it made you blush. “T-thank you. You’re so . . . Yeah.”

“Yeah?” she echos, amusement and glee creeping into her tone as she guides you by the hand to her car. 

“Yeah.”

“Glad I got the yeah approval.” She settles you in and punches in the address you give her.

The restaurant is very nice — far nicer than even you usually were able to attend despite your parents’ wealth and reputation in the city. You stayed home from the nicer events often with a nanny. 

Dinner was started with a set course of appetizers followed by a few dishes brought for the main course. Dessert was the most popular dish and it brought you and Natasha closer and sitting together instead of facing one another so you could enjoy sharing the food while giggling to yourselves and talking. 

An entire bottle of wine had been left in an iced bucket at your table and the both of you indulged in a couple of glasses. 

“You hid in a vent for five days?” You squawked at her, failing to hide your laughter behind your hand and thus forced to set down your wine glass. 

“It was our only option, to be fair,” the redhead admitted, smirking. “We had the entire city in a state of disarray and we had to find a way to lay low for a bit.”

“I can’t imagine the discomfort between two people up there!”

“It was sort of fun. Clint was the first person who was actually . . .” Natasha pauses as she considers what to say next. “. . . Who actually spoke to me like a human, I suppose. Not a soldier or a robot.”

You frowned, lacing your fingers with hers. “That’s terrible, Nat.”

She tilted her head at you. “No, that’s just what my life was. I didn’t know any better, really. Didn’t see what life could be like if I knew what was out in the world other than cruelty.”

You ran a thumb over her the top of her palm. “I’m glad you got out and that you’re here now.”

“Me too, Malyshka,” she agrees, and meaning it to the depth of her soul, “me too.”

She drove you home and held your hand the entire time. It was hard to let you go even as she got out to walk around the front of her own car and help you out and walk you to the door of your building. 

“Well, this is me.” You tried to sound cheerful, but there was a sadness laced in the tone thick enough for Natasha to detect. 

“Will you let me drive you to the airport tomorrow?” she murmured, her fingers loosening from yours so her hands can trail up your arms, fingers marking the outline of your neck, and finally cupping your cheeks. 

You locked gazes with her and smiled warmly as you leaned in, seeking out her closeness just as she did with you. 

Natasha was not an expert with how to handle what you made her feel. It took everything in her training to control herself — so she wouldn’t run from the emotions that pelted her. 

It was like having her ribcage peeled open and her heart exposed for you to see. Natasha despised it as much as she adored it — the rush it gave her followed by the nerve-wracking fear. 

You had the sole ability to tear her apart because she’s giving you the chance. She was warned at a young age never to give anyone that opportunity lest they get you killed by betrayal or by weakness. 

It was a cardinal rule Natasha never broke. Even when she got out she never sought out sex, romance, connection. It had the power to destroy everything she was. 

And here she was giving you the paperwork to the instructions. 

 But you wrapped your hands so incredibly gently around hers as they caressed you, nuzzling into the touch and inhaling in her scent and just . . . Simply being there. Both of you. Together. 

“Malyshka?” she murmured, nose nudging yours to grab your attention. “Airport?”

Your eyes flew open, still hazy from the moment that overwhelmed the both of you. You sighed. 

“I have to be there by six to catch by flight, Nat,” you finally told her, shaking your head slowly in her hands. “Too early.”

“I’ll be there at four.” Natasha leaned in, beginning to press soft kisses to your cheeks. One on each one. Then your forehead. 

You furrowed your brow. “Nat, no. That’s way too early.”

“I’m an Avenger, baby.” Nat only pulled back enough to grin at you with that trademark smile of hers. Smug and knowing like she was. 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Four thirty.”

“Okay.” She grinned. “Four.”

Then you leaned up and kissed her first, shaking her confidence and surprising her. One hand dropped from where it held your jaw and fell instead to grasp your hip to steady herself. 

It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experience since leaving the Red Room. She’d done many things in her newfound freedom — but this . . . 

You eventually had to pull back for air and she leaned forward to brush an errant piece of hair back behind your ear. So soft, so gentle. 

Your Natasha. 

“I’ll see you at four.”

You walked off the stage with a diploma -- a piece of paper telling the world that you were now a credited electrical engineer. Your parents promised to make it and then backed out the day before with apologies and a graduation gift: money. Perhaps in hopes to buy your forgiveness.

Kate flew down though and she hugged you so tight when you walked out into the crowd of thousands as the stadium emptied after the ceremony. You were hot under the robes and you wanted to go change but Kate wanted to embrace you in a death grip first.

"So fucking proud, duuuude," she said, shaking you before releasing you with a beam. "Look at you! My baby girl, all grown up."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks, mom. You're not embarrassing me at all."

"I should hope not! It would be really awkward since I plan on dragging you to every single bar we can manage until we wake up somewhere the next morning," she said with the Kate-stamped seriousness.

You winced. "Kate, I'm not sure --"

She twitched, then grinned. "I'm joking. Your shit's already packed at your dorm and ready to be flown home. Plan tonight is something entirely low-key."

"First of all." You held up a finger. "How and why did you pack up my stuff already? I had the week to get my dorm cleared. I was going to drive it down with a rental and have Natasha help me move it into storage."

"Oh," Kate clapped her hands, "that reminds me--"

"Hi, Malyshka." That voice you'd been in love with since at least March, when she stayed up late with you while you tried not to break down during sessions of studies.

Natasha, who made the distance work by using her superhero mojo to fly down in her own jet to see you for a day and just hang out when she knew you needed it.

Natasha who was beautiful and followed by a younger, curious blonde with braids as she came up to you. She held an expression of pride as she took you in and --

You burst into tears when you saw her, "Nat?"

The blonde looked perplexed and leaned back a bit, expressing loudly in a thick accent, "Does your face always make her cry. Sistra?"

Sistra. Sister. Natasha had told you about her sister Yelena who she'd reunited with while she was on the run. Who helped her take down the Red Room and Dreykov for real this time. It was a story that Nat had told her on one of her visits to you and as she was opening up more. She told you that Yelena was her entire world before and that night expressed that now you were too.

"Yelena," you spluttered, gesturing to the wary ex-assassin in an attempt to hug her. 

"Hello," she greeted awkwardly, tapping your arm with a heavy hand. "I see you know who I am. Natasha." She side-eyed her sister accusingly, but Nat ignored her in favor of embracing you.

"You looked so gorgeous up there. I was very proud watching you walk that stage and keeping your chin up." She kissed the top of your head and held you close as you finally were able to hug your partner again for the first time in months.

Kate and Yelena stood off to the side awkwardly next to one another. "I did not invite you," Kate mentioned, squinting at Yelena.

Yelena sniffed. "Natasha goes, I go. Simple. What are you? Kate?"

"Kate," the brunette confirmed, "Bishop."

"Kate Bishop," Yelena repeated, letting the words flow off her tongue smoothly. A mischievous glint lost on you and Natasha but not on Kate started to glow in her eye. "Do you like mac'n'cheese?"

The look Kate gave her would've had you on the floor in tears if you weren't already in tears in Natasha's arms.

"Let's get you to a hotel, yeah?" Natasha murmured soothingly. She kisses your head again. "You can get to know Yelena if you'd like. We can all watch a movie together."

Nothing sounded better.

I will not be discussing how much fucking trouble this gave me. just take it and pls enjoy it.

PART TWO

[ramzawrites]

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt. 

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

[parker-razor]

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!! 

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.  

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 3 | practice

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Fake dating Shouto Todoroki was an absolute whirlwind, but it certainly came with its benefits.

As weeks passed, you found yourself with a compliant test subject and plenty of data for the work you were doing on his support item. You’d confirmed that you could use this work as your submission for your senior project -- developing a support item without any input, direction, or critique from a professor -- and you’d set to the task with enthusiasm after that.

Shouto caved easily enough to the tests you’d put to him on your first “date” and you’d had way too much fun getting him to freeze and heat things for you, strapping him up in all the nodules and wires as you’d promised. Over the course of a few weeks, you’d analyzed the absolute crap out of the cryogenic structure of his ice crystals and tested the limits of his temperature control to your heart’s content, pleased that the amount of time you were spending together also played into your cover story.

It turned out his quirk worked as you’d suspected, which was incredible. Shouto’s power allowed his body to work like a heat pump, directing thermal energy against the current in which it naturally flowed at will. He used the energy from one side of his body to alternately push energy into or draw energy from the other side of his body, in order to create a temperature gradient strong enough to induce ice or flames.

He was basically like a really good looking, high-powered air conditioner.

The discovery was overwhelming and gave you limitless possibilities as to what kind of support item you could build for him.

The problem was, there were maybe too many options.

“You can watch my quirk training, if you need more direction,” Shouto had suggested one night when you were tucked up doing homework together. He’d really taken to the role of doting boyfriend and put in appearances often, taking you out on a series of other mind-bendingly good dates and showing up to your dorm on school nights with homework and small, thoughtful gifts like bottles of tea.

Through his efforts, he’d become something like a close friend.

You’d discovered over the course of your time together that Shouto wasn’t as quiet and serious as you’d initially suspected him to be, and you quite liked the sides of himself that he chose to unveil. He had a tendency to be blunt and was strangely oblivious given how observant he could be, and he had a little bit of a short fuse when the match was properly lit. He was still kind and thoughtful for the most part, but as he grew more comfortable with you it was like a flip sometimes switched and out crawled an inner gremlin, eager to tease and fluster you.

To your eternal mortification, he’d most definitely caught on to the fact that kissing you was the fastest way to fluster you, though in your defense, being kissed by a man who had no romantic interest in you was certainly a mind-boggling concept in and of itself. He’d thankfully only kissed you a few other times--once, weirdly, when you’d been almost sure no one else was around--though he sometimes watched you with a look in his eye like he was scheming up ways to make it happen again.

He was a very convincing fake boyfriend.

You had agreed to follow him to quirk training the following evening, and showed up to take your place on the sidelines of beta field that afternoon in a thick coat with a thermos of warm tea. Deep in your bag, you’d embarrassingly stowed an extra for Shouto, a habit formed by all of your time spent together.

He was there when you got there, clearly having come straight from class, and huge walls of ice already dotted the field, one or two twisted into melting spires. Slick trails of water ran down their sides where he’d blasted them with his fire, pooling into the cracks of the earth at their bases, and singe marks scored the grass around them.

Shouto seemed to brighten when he caught sight of you, and he came padding over to where you were making yourself comfortable on the cold ground.

“Anything in particular you want me to test out?” he asked, but you shook your head, unearthing a notebook and a pen from your bag.

“No, just do your thing,” you said, uncapping your pen. “I’m just looking to observe how you usually move around and channel your quirk. I rewatched all the sports festival footage from the last couple years but your style changes wildly between them, so I want to get a feel for how you currently do things.”

He looked somewhat embarrassed. “You watched those?”

You let a teasing smile flit across your lips, curious to see what kind of mood he was in today. “Oh yeah. Loved the one where you got totally stomped by Bakugou.”

To your amusement, his eyebrow twitched. “I let him win.”

Men and their fragile egos. You suppressed a smirk and stretched leisurely like a cat in the sun, tipping your face back to look up at him. “Sure you did.”

A look of annoyance passed over his handsome features, and he huffed, taking a threatening step closer to you. Something glinted in his eye, and that was all the warning you had before he leaned down and pressed his mouth over yours.

You instantly dropped your pen, fisting a hand in the jacket of his uniform to pull him closer. It briefly crossed your mind that no one was around to observe the two of you, and that this kiss was perhaps wasted effort on his part, but then he did that thing with his tongue you liked and all rational thought fled from your brain.

Shouto kissed all the sass straight out of your mouth before drawing back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“I’ll thank you to keep quiet,” he said, and you could only stare at him dumbly as he smirked and made his way back onto the field.

Confusion eventually washed over you as he set about practicing with his quirk, and you could only pay half a mind to what he was doing.

What had that been about? You checked your periphery to confirm that no one else was around to have witnessed his assault on your good sense, confusion only mounting when there was no one in sight. You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you, but that kiss had felt like something a real boyfriend would do to shut a mouthy girlfriend up. Was he getting so used to your little charade that he hardly minded? Did it affect him so little that it hardly troubled him at all?

You pushed your thoughts down for examination at a later time, forcing yourself to keep your mind on Shouto’s quirk training.

You took careful note of the graceful way he moved, the raw power with which he released both sides of his quirk. He was faster than almost anything, able to maneuver around the field with deadly precision, unbelievable power called to his fingertips within seconds and wielded with brutal efficiency. He was, much like his quirk, two halves of some contradictory whole, combining incredible strength with unexpected elegance to create a combat style that had quite likely never been seen before.

You sketched out several notes on his movements and jotted down a couple vague ideas for support items that came to mind as you watched him.

After a while, Shouto seemed to come to the conclusion that you’d had enough time to observe him and started messing around instead, creating enormous ice waves to slide down for your amusement, looking like a very strange surfer on some still mass of ocean. You laughed as he shot down a slope faster than he’d clearly expected, throwing up another hill of ice to slow his descent.

He came sliding over to you, huffing a little after hours of exertion. “You’re acting like you’ve seen better.”

You smiled. “You just looked funny.”

That wry twist at the corner of his mouth was back. “You do it, then.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He held out a hand, wiggling his long fingers. “You’ve had your fun judging me from over here. You do it if you’ve got opinions.”

A stab of panic shot through you. “Absolutely not.”

Something like a challenge glinted in his eye and he surged forward, scooping you up into his arms easily. You panicked, instantly trying to twist out of his hold and get him to drop you, but he just walked back onto the training field, one arm barred across yours in a steely hold. You tried to get a foot against his hip but his grip was too tight to allow you movement enough to do it.

“Shouto, you had better drop me or I will straight up murder you,” you grit out, gripping his sleeve in terror as a crackling noise started where his feet met the ground.

“You had better hope I don’t,” he tossed back as a platform of ice formed under his boots, carrying you up to the top of one icy wave. Your rise was horrifyingly quick, and you were torn between being absolutely terrified and impressed that this is how he maneuvered around all the time. You gripped him in horror.

“I will never forgive you if you do this,” you threatened, staring down the steep drop hundreds of feet to the ground. “Nothing you could ever do will make up for a betrayal like this.”

“I have some ideas,” he said. Then he took a step off the top.

You became aware of a piercing scream and realized it was coming from you. You wanted to press your face into Shouto’s chest and close your eyes but you were too terrified to even look away from what was happening as the two of you slid down the ice at hundreds of feet per second, hurtling at the ground like a rocket. You couldn’t believe you had laughed at him if this is what it felt like to do what he did.

You felt Shouto tense underneath you, and the arm under your legs flashed notably colder, before another layer of ice formed, evening out the wave into a less precipitous curve, slowing your slide and carrying you easily to the field. Gravity seemed to catch up to you again and you slid down a little in his arms. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest and your hands clenched in the fabric of his costume, even as you slid to a stop, soft grass rustling underneath his boots as he stepped off the ice.

“You’re a dead man, Shouto Todoroki,” you promised, hands still fisted at his sleeve. And he was, just as soon as you could let go of him.

Another smirk crossed his infuriatingly handsome features and you found yourself a little mesmerized by the sight of him.

He hefted you higher in his arms. “But if I was dead, how would I do this?” he asked, then pressed his mouth to yours again.

Well, he certainly had your number. Your plans for murder were instantly wiped from your brain like notes from a whiteboard, and you moved a hand to his collar to pull him down to you. His mouth was hot and he was excruciatingly gentle, working you over thoroughly, until you could hardly remember your words, never mind a flawless plot for murder.

Shouto shifted carefully and you became aware of grass under your back. Then he was moving over you, pressing you into the field with the solid weight of his body. His mouth left yours to pepper a trail of kisses in a slow line down your neck, and those long fingers tugged down the zipper of your jacket, coming up to pull down the collar of your sweater to allow him better access.

You squirmed mindlessly under him, letting out surprised little gasps whenever he found a spot that you particularly liked. The chill of the evening washed over you and you pressed yourself into him for warmth, sighing when his left side flared hotly. He bit down carefully over your pulse where it beat wildly in your throat.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and a vague thought came to you like this was somehow strange for the two of you to be doing, some reason why you shouldn’t be. You couldn’t remember why. “Tell me if I should stop.”

He pressed his mouth back to yours again, a calloused hand making its way up the side of your sweater and disconnecting your thoughts again. This felt too good to be wrong, why shouldn’t you do this? A thumb brushed under the fabric of your bra, catching a nipple, and you jerked under him, letting out an embarrassing noise. He made a noise low in his throat and did it again, tensing when you shuddered under him again.

He let out a harsh breath, then your sweater was torn upwards and your bra quickly followed, a warm mouth closing over one nipple. You swore, the heat of his mouth so unbelievably good against the cold air, arching into him as he swirled his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you managed, fingers tangling desperately in his hair. You hooked a leg over his hip, anchoring him against you harder. Your own hips raised without any input from your brain, and you swore again when one of his thighs pressed tightly to your core.

He moved to your other breast, laving over the hardened peak, two toned eyes watching your face with undisguised interest.

“Shouto,” you gasped out, drawing him back up to you to kiss him. His chest pressed into yours, the strong line of his body pinning you down everywhere, and the weight of him was unbelievably wonderful over you. Why had you ever thought you shouldn’t do this?

A blinding light suddenly flickered on over you, searing even through your eyelids where they’d fluttered closed. You jerked apart in shock. Blinking blearily, you realized it had grown dark and the field lighting system had just kicked in.

Shouto sighed and crawled off of you, leaning back on his knees to stare down at you. You blushed, the implications of what you’d just done pressing down on you, realizing your entire chest was exposed to him in the harsh light. You yanked your sweater back over you, struggling a little bit to get the band of your bra back down. Shouto placed a hand on your hip.

“Uh,” he said, something like a flush rising to his own cheeks, “That’s what you get for laughing.”

You choked out a shocked laugh, staring up at him. “That’s what I get for laughing?”

He smiled again, climbing to his feet and pulling you up with him. “I imagined my girlfriend would be more supportive.”

You gathered up your bag, hardly daring to look at him. “You picked the wrong one then, I think.”

His smile turned soft, something almost private. “I think I did okay.”

Warmth flashed through you again and you had to push down the well of thoughts that bubbled up inside you like a spring. You tried to ignore the niggling at the back of your brain as bid your goodnights and went separate ways to your dorm buildings. One thought refused to be pushed aside, however, following you as you made your way to your room, lingering as you readied for bed and turned out the light. You couldn't sleep for a long time as you tried to dredge up an answer.

What the hell had that been?

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

TWENTY-THREE

The rest of the week passed quickly as you finalized plans for the southern California convention taking place the first weekend of December. When you'd asked what would happen once the convention circuit finished for the year, Misha had reminded you that he was in the middle of filming season thirteen, and that it was likely the two of you would be spending a substantial part of the next several months in Vancouver. Although since he lived so close he often came home on the weekends, so he assured you would have some down time. Not that you minded, spending a bunch of time with your prohibitively sexy boss who you also happened to be sleeping with? It was a no-brainer.

Thursday morning dawned chilly, a cold wind and drizzling rain pelted the worn shingles of your roof. Drawing the Venetian blinds open filled the living room with a grey light and you smiled as your cats appointed themselves door guardians, keeping a wary eye on the crows who enjoyed taunting them from the deck.

Padding into the kitchen you set to work gathering the materials to make cheesecake. It was your favorite dessert, and you saved the lengthy process for the holidays. Reaching up to the top shelf of your cupboards required a step stool, as even on tiptoes the mixing bowls eluded you. Whoever had designed the kitchen failed to realize that putting cupboards above the dishwasher made them out of reach for all but the tallest people.

Straining for the stack of glass bowls occupied your attention. Just as you got a good grip on the lip of one your phone rang. Looking around you in search of the source quickly revealed that you'd left the device on the couch. By the sounds of the muffled tone, it had slid between the cushions. Setting the bowls on the counter you ran into the adjacent room, just catching the call before it went to voicemail.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Collins.” Groaning, Misha sighed on the other end of the call. “You're lucky I need you Ms. [Y/L/N], otherwise you'd be in serious need of an attitude adjustment.” 

The gravelly admonishment made you flush, a crimson heat pooling through your belly. Clearing his throat, your boss quickly changed the subject. 

“So, ahh, I hate to do this but..do you think you could come help us in the kitchen? I may have bitten off more than I could chew with this menu.” 

You were about to tell him you'd be happy to, but he continued, hastily adding that you could bring your sister if you wanted to and that he'd give you a bonus if you'd save his ass. Laughing through the line, you agreed - on the condition that you could bring dessert. “Thanks [Y/F/N], you really are a lifesaver.”

You weren't about to turn down more time with Misha, the salary boost was just an added bonus. He need never know that you had planned on spending the day stuffing your face with cheesecake; deciding to forego the big spread when you realized you'd be spending the holiday alone had saved you a lot of time and money.

Gathering all of the ingredients into a grocery tote along with several mixing bowls, your biggest springform pan and the fresh fruit used for garnish, you moved into your room to change. The bright blue fleece pajama pants littered with sheep that you currently wore didn't exactly feel right.

Not wanting to overdo things, you decided on a pair of soft, plum colored leggings and a form-fitting black tunic top, the hem falling just a few inches past the curve of your thighs. Pulling knee-high, oatmeal colored wool socks on before lacing up your pair of soft leather boots completed the outfit. Spreading a thick layer of dark eyeliner on to accompany the purple and black smokey-eye was just enough to tie everything together, your [Y/E/C] irises framed by the heavier makeup.

Pulling a brush through your long [Y/H/C] hair was enough, you knew if you were cooking that a fancier hairstyle wouldn't last long anyhow.

The highway held few cars, making the drive pass quickly. Pulling into Misha’s neighborhood, you were surprised by the number of cars parked both in his driveway and lining the street. Knocking on the heavy front door left you standing on the porch for a few minutes. After several tries,  you squeezed the handle, and finding it unlocked, let yourself in.

The maelstrom that greeted you was intense. West chased Tom and Shep through the house while JJ sat on the plush rug of the living room and stacked blocks with Maison. Gen and Daneel reclined together on the overstuffed sofa, glasses of red wine clutched in their hands, chatting as they kept a watchful eye on the girls. Rather than being overwhelmed, you felt like part of the family, a smile passing over your face as you took in your surroundings and made your way to the kitchen.

Vicki stood behind the cool marble covered island that dominated the center of the room. The sharp knife in her hand sliced through vegetables with ease. Seeing you walk in, she lowered the blade, and, wiping her hands on the half apron tied around her waist; enveloped you in a bone crushing hug. 

“[Y/F/N]! Thank you so much for coming to help with dinner...you know how Misha can be.” Thinking back to the first night you’d met the Collins’, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “So, what scheme has he thought of this time?” 

Lifting your bags up onto the counter, your [Y/E/C] eyes widened in shock at the thick piece of cardstock Vicki handed across her work station. 

“He..he actually made a menu?” “Where is our host anyhow?” Vicki snorted under her breath in mild amusement, motioning vaguely over her shoulder with the knife she’d taken up to finish her task.

Turning your attention to the set of double french doors behind her, you wandered across the cool wooden floor and looked through the glass. Misha, Jared and Jensen were all huddled around a large grill, where two twenty-pound turkeys were trussed and stuffed with herbs; slowly turning over the open flame. Jared noticed you first as you leaned against the oak door frame, impressed at their dedication. 

“Why am I not surprised that you are actually roasting turkeys over an open fire?” Jensen held up his hands and backed away from the heat, shaking his head while he tilted an amber bottle to his lips.

“Not me, Jared and I are giving him shit. There’s no way Misha can do this and have them finish before next year. We’re taking bets on how long it’ll take until we get to eat.” 

“Supervising, you might say..” Jared quipped as he moved to wrap his arms around you in greeting.

Misha’s attention finally rose from the spit and his eyes met [Y/F/N], a slow smile twisting over his face at the woman standing in his doorway. She looked amazing; a glass of wine in her hand as she smiled back at him, an amused expression on her face. 

“Well boys, have fun out here in the cold. I’m going back inside to surround myself with beautiful women...and cheesecake.” A torrent of wind off of the bay swirled around you as you stepped back into the warmth of the house.

There was a great deal of work to be done for the two desserts you had promised. Melting white chocolate over a double boiler while simultaneously reducing fresh raspberries into a puree forced you to abandon the glass of merlot Vicki had poured you. With those tasks complete you began assembling the base recipe for the cheesecakes themselves, the onyx monster of a stand mixer working overtime to whip the ingredients together. Crossing the kitchen to pour freshly ground coffee beans into the espresso machine for the tiramisu cheesecake took only a moment, the compelling smell warming you from the inside out.

Two hours later, you pulled the hot desserts from the double ovens set into the wall. Lowering the cakes to cooling racks well out of reach of small hands, you sighed; content. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the open door when you poked your head outside to check how things were going. Rosemary, thyme and orange married together beautifully, a hint of sage rounding out the bouquet. The smug look on Misha’s face at his success caught your eye, his piercing blue eyes lit with satisfaction, that damning smile of his adding to the heat that burned through you.

Setting the expansive table distracted you well enough. A smaller, square oak table had been set aside just for the kids and you found your mind wandering to how it would feel to have your own child joining the others as they clambered up into their chairs. Shaking your head, you huffed at the thought. You didn’t like children. Mentally berating the biological clock that occasionally screamed at you to procreate, you shoved the idea away from your conscience. You could barely take care of yourself, adding a two-legged little gremlin to the mix wasn’t even a somewhat good idea. Pouring yourself a second glass of wine, you settled into one of the twelve heavy chairs that flocked the stretch of dark wood quickly filling with a myriad of dishes.

Dinner played out as if it were the scene in a hallmark movie. The  food was delicious, Misha spending twenty minutes carving up both turkeys before setting large, oval platters of meat at each end of the table. Tureens filled with mashed potatoes, both sweet and gold sat nestled amongst casseroles of stuffing, whole cranberries lending their beautiful color to the tablescape. Massive biscuits rested in napkin lined baskets; an old recipe handed down to Gen from her grandparents. Misha’s homemade wine flowing freely while the kids enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade, West excitedly telling anyone who would listen that he’d help make it.

“[Y/F/N], where’s your sister? Did she not want to join us?” Jared’s hazel eyes were warm as they turned to you, his fingers laced with Gen’s. 

“She’s decided to stay in Hawaii for another week, actually.” Vicki’s eyes widened as she realized that you’d planned to be home alone today and she grimaced.

“If Misha hadn’t called you to help, what exactly would you be doing right now?” Shrugging, you swallowed another drink of the fruity liquid in your glass before answering. 

“Probably stuffing myself full of cheesecake and watching movies in my pajamas.” 

“What?! There are at least three food groups in cheesecake, it’s a nice, balanced meal.” 

“I’m not complaining though, this turkey is a-maaaazing Misha.”

After hours spent shopping, prepping and cooking the veritable feast laid out before you, everyone was overfull within thirty minutes. Jared and Jensen herded the children upstairs to change into pajamas and get cleaned up while Daneel, Gen and Vicki cleared the table. Back in the kitchen you pulled the fresh raspberry puree and heavy whipping cream from the refrigerator, spreading the fruit topping evenly across the surface of one of the cheesecakes. White chocolate curls and whole berries decorated the outer ring and sides of the confection. 

Adding the heavy cream to a stainless steel charger produced beautifully fresh cream for the tiramisu cake and, carrying them out to the table gleaned the interest of everyone in the house. A concerned look fell over Jensen’s face as he warred with the idea of whether or not he could fit additional food in his stomach. Laughing, you assured him there was plenty and that he could eat it later. With a curt nod of his head, he and Jared followed Misha back outside and you turned questioning glances to the women sitting around you. 

“It’s become a bit of a tradition when we’re all together to light up the fire pit and disconnect for awhile. C’mon [Y/F/N], you’ll see what we mean.” Vicki’s fingers stretched out to envelope your own as she moved to lift several large blankets from a basket by the door. Tilting her head in invitation, you followed her and the others outside where the boys already sat, the small children clambering up into their father’s laps. As you moved to sit in one of the adirondack chairs huddled near the iron pit of dancing flames, Vicki glared at you. 

“Don’t even think about running off by yourself, you come sit with us. You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[kitresaysthings]

grian spotten in my math.... however did he get there