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larry-22-blog · 2 years ago

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Period Complications 5 x ADHD

Hi guys, thank you for all your feedback regarding the series, I hope you enjoy this one too, as always please add your input in, I love to read your comments and messages.

I try to take all the suggestions and include them in the story.

"I'm just so fucking angry! Why is it not fucking working!" I exclaimed in frustration trying to fix the bugs in my code, but I swear each time I fix one, another one just pops around the corner!

I hate this shit!

Who's idea was it to study Computer Science?!

It's bullshit!

I would be better off studying-- screw that! I would be better off not studying anything at fucking all!

I should have become a stripper or something! Would probably make more money selling feet pics to crazy people online than in this shit hole!

"You've got pretty feet… But they are for my eyes only" Erling chuckled from where he was leaning on the doorway, looking at me with his too-damn pretty face.

He's also not wearing a shirt.

Just some shorts. Some short shorts.

And he's sweaty and ---

Seriously why is he so damn hot all the fucking time?

"Awww thanks, babe!" He cheerfully said fist bumping into the air before moving towards me.

"Nope, out! Erling Braut Haland!" I said, trying to make him leave.

He shouldn't see me like this.

I don't want him to see what a mess I am.

Especially under stress.

"You're such a beautiful mess though, baby!" He exclaimed slowly coming closer to my desk, well, his desk. Since it's his house.

I just tried to kick the guy out of his own house.

"What's mine is yours, love, you know it!" He leaned forward from the other side of the desk, head resting on his arm as he watched me with a big smile on his face.

"Seriously what are you? Can you read minds?!" I asked frowning.

"Nah, you just tend to speak out loud when stressed or under pressure. It's cute. I find it quite endearing." He leaned and kissed the tip of my nose.

"Oh, oops!" I felt myself blushing.

"It's super entertaining too! Your mind is very funny, you go from one thing to another then back to the other thing and so on!" He chuckled, taking one of my trembling hands in his much bigger one and kissing the back of it.

"I can't help it… It's my ADHD brain going at 500km/h on a countryside road…" I sighed.

I hate the way my brain works sometimes.

Some other times I like it, makes me feel different but most of the time it's just frustrating and hard.

I feel so stupid most of the time, always thinking differently, always taking the long way around.

I just want a break from all the stress and pressure sometimes.

"Baby how can you say that, you're so smart, the smartest person I know, the most hard-working and selfless" he moved from where he was leaning over and came around the desk to where I was.

"I just feel like I have to work so much to make up for all these bullshit issues…" I feel tears filling my eyes.

"Baby…" he pulled me to his chest, hugging me tight as he leaned down so I could put my arms around his neck.

"Sorry, I'm all sweaty… I probably stink too" he said in my hair, kissing the top of my head.

"I love your scent," I said against his neck, on my tippy toes, hugging him tighter.

"You're something else baby" he chuckled.

"What do you say about a shower and then some comfy clothes, sneaks and Netflix and chill in our bed?" He proposed his accent peaking through quite a bit.

It's something that happens when he's tired or misses home or his family.

"Sounds like a plan, add some tea to the list and we are good to go," I said, kissing the top of his left pec as I moved away.

I let out an embarrassing loud squeal when he lifted me up and began carrying me upstairs.

"ERLING!! You have to stop carrying me around all the time!" I blushed into his neck.

This man is something else.

"Why? I quite enjoy it, no shush, go get the shower ready, I'll be back in a min with some clothes for us" he put me down in front of the shower and left running back to our room. I could hear him going through the drawers in the walk-in closet of the ensuite, smiling to myself as I started the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature as I undressed and stepped in.

I washed my body and was in the middle of washing my hair when I feel arms around my middle, pulling me back so our bodies are touching.

"I wanted to wash you!" He pouted, looking too cute for his own good.

"You can still wash me, come on, I'll wash you" I proposed, getting the soapy bath fluff nice and bubbly as I proceeded to press it on Erling's chest, washing his toned body. His chest, his arms, his back…

"You've got such an amazing butt… It's unfair!" I could not help myself so I squeezed it, loving how muscular and nice it feels. It looked so good all soapy.

"Hey! Hands of the merchandise!" He joked and I have him a playful slap on the right cheek as I moved back up, trying to get him to lean down to get a kiss.

"No kisses for you, you've been too naughty," he said, straightening his back so he put even more distance between us, smirking down at me.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to continue to wash myself then… Alone" I purposely turned my back to him, bending down to get my favourite shower gel and then proceed to wash my body, soaping up my chest and then looking up to see his reaction.

Well, I could have looked down also, there was definitely a reaction there too.

"Baby!! Those are mine too!" He exclaimed, moving his big hands on my chest, squeezing both my boobs, making me moan as he touched my sensitive nipples.

"Fucking hell, Erling!" I moaned as he moved behind me, pressing his front into my back, not letting go of my boobs as he played with my nipples.

"Love how sensitive they are, how sensitive you are…" he kissed my neck, holding me close as he played with my boobs. I could feel him pulsing against my back, he was hard. And so fucking big.

Everything about this guy is huge. Of course, his dick was also fucking huge.

I blushed at the thought.

"Erling please…" I begged.

I don't even know what I was asking. What did I want?

I just wanted him.

"Baby, slow down, we got all day" he chuckled.

"I want you inside me" I turned around pulling him down so we could kiss.

"No way in hell! Not going to happen on my watch!" He broke our kiss, putting some space between us and I looked confused up at him.

I couldn't help but feel insecure and rejected.

"You don't want to? With me?" I asked, looking sadly up at him.

"Of course I fucking want it! I love you, I desire you, can't you see how much you turn me on? I swear I'm always hard around you!" He groaned, using his hand to release some pressure on his very much still rock-hard cock.

I blushed, looking away.

"Then? Why do you keep rejecting me…" I whispered, looking up at him, into his lovely green eyes.

I love his eyes. They are such a complex colour, I swear they constantly change, depending on his mood.

"I'm not rejecting you, baby, I just don't want it to happen like this, it's your first time! It's supposed to be special, perfect! Not a fucking quickie in the shower!" He explained passionately.

I love how passionate this guy is about everything he does, and everything he loves.

I especially love it when I see him so passionate about me.

My man.

"I love you Erling. Thank you for loving me and taking care of me, always. Thank you for being you." I said hugging him.

"It's going to be perfect and special no matter what because it's you," I admitted, kissing his chest, right where his heart is beating so strongly.

"You're the same to me, we're perfect for each other, soulmate and all." He whispered, tightening his arms around me and kissing my forehead.

"Now, let's finish here," he said, starting the water again.

We quickly washed ourselves this time, to avoid distractions.

Erling finished quicker, he got out first, getting towels for both of us, before starting to dry himself.

He was a sight.

In all his naked glory.

His body was art.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer" he commented, not even turning around from where his muscular back is facing me.

I blush for the tenth time today.

Seriously what is his secret? Does he have superpowers?

How the hell did he see me?

"I have to be very aware of my surroundings baby, I'm a footballer, remember" he joked.

"I don't think I could ever forget you in your Manchester city home equipped even if I try. Wet dream material." I admitted, getting out of the shower and shivering because of the temperature change.

He immediately helped me, putting the big towel around me and a smaller one on my head.

"Awww thanks baby, glad to know you get off on me wearing the blue kit, got to wear it more often," he said, his cheeks a bit pink too.

"Or just don't wear anything, that would work too, for getting me off" I suggested, playfully.

"Oh shush it you, you would constantly blush whenever you see me partially baked! You would not resist me being naked around you!" Erling said while drying my hair carefully.

"No, I don't!" I slap at his arm.

Ok, maybe I'm a bit intimidated by him, especially naked. But like who isn't? Have you seen him?

He's a fucking God. A Nordic God.

"I love it when you do that anyways, don't worry. I find it very cute, the way you react around me" he admitted.

"Shut up" put the other towel on top of his head, pouting.

"Awww my little angry kitty," he said, leaning down to kiss all over my face, as I tried to stop him, giggling.

We ended up using the same drier for drying our hair, I let him have a go first Erling while doing my night routine then took it after he finished while he was doing his own night routine. Much simpler than mine.

"Let's get in bed!!" He suddenly said, lifting me up and walking out of the bathroom, ignoring my protests.

"Erling!!!"

"I prepared you some clothes" he gestured to the pile of clothes on the bed, one of his kit light blue shirts, which was a dress for me and a pair of short white yoga pants, together with some fluffy blue socks and for him just some white boxes.

"You're basically naked" I comment, dressing myself in his shirt, loving how big it feels on me, then going to the closet to get some panties, deciding on some white ones.

"Very nice sight baby" he commented from the bed as he looked at me since I left the door of the closet open. I was bent down to pick the panties and of course, he was watching.

I blushed and immediately pulled the shirt down to cover myself.

"Perv!" I walked back to the room, closed the window shades and joined him on the bed.

"Oh God, this bed is like heaven…" I moaned as my back hit the soft material of the sheets, pulling the covers over me as I moved closer to Erling, searching for his warmth.

I moved my freezing feet under his shins and I put my hands on his abs to warm them "Nooo, you ice cube! How are you so cold?!" He shivered but hugged me closer.

"I don't know… I'm always cold, but you're hot" I whispered, hiding my face in his chest.

"Even your nose is cold" he giggled.

"What should we watch?" He asked, scrolling through the Netflix recommendations.

"Something with Vikings" I joked, almost asleep. He was just so warm and comfy.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me!" He nudged me, kissing my hair.

"But I'm sleepy…" I complained, trying to get even closer to him, pulling my covers over my head to hide.

"It's so early thought, what are you, a chicken?" He giggled pulling the covers down.

"I'm an old lady, let me have some peace. You'll understand when you get to my age" I pouted.

"Your age, baby you're 3 years older than me that's no old" he laughed and started tickling me.

Did I mention I'm very, very ticklish?

I absolutely hate being tickled.

"Erling!!!!!!" I squealed, but he was having none of it.

By the time our tickling fight was done, I was trying to catch my breath, my face was covered in tears from how hard I was laughing, while he was laughing his ass off at me.

"Awww baby I made you cry, come here" before I could react he moved around, hovering over me, not putting all of his weight on me, as he used his arms to support himself but still. He was so fucking heavy!

"Nooo! Get off me you giant! I can't breathe!" I groaned, trying to shove him off, "Aww baby, I made you breathless too, am I this pretty?" He playfully spoke, trying to sound like a girl, flipping his long blonde hair.

"You are actually, the prettiest girl out there" I kissed his nose, moving one of my arms around him while I used my other to run my fingers through his soft hair.

"Hey!!" He playfully protested, but I kissed his pout away, making us both smile dumbly at each other after.

"I love moments as these" I looked into his eyes.

"Me too" he kissed me.

We sat like that for a while, just looking into each other's eyes, smiling and kissing until Erling spoke "Let's go eat something, I'm so hungry"

"You and your appetite, baby, don't know how you can eat so much and be this fit, it shouldn't be possible" I admitted, admiring his body once again as he got up from the bed.

"I'm a Viking baby, we are not normal people" he offered his hand to help me get up but I just rolled over on his side of the bed, pulling the covers over me as I hugged his pillow. I changed the sheets this morning and he barely sat on the bed since then, but I swear it has his scent.

I love his scent with a passion.

"Stop smelling my pillow, I'm getting a bit jealous over here! Plus, you could have the real thing…" he smirked, pulling the covers from around me and pulling me up.

"You can be a brute sometimes, Erling Haland" I sighed, following him out of the room, well not that I had much of a choice since he was holding my hand, basically pulling me.

"Only for you baby" he lifted me up on the island-like counter when we arrived downstairs into the kitchen, kissing my nose and then proceeding to take half of the fridge out to eat.

"You're something else, Erling, I swear…"

Note:

Thank you for reading, if you liked the story/series here is a way to support me:

#erling haaland #erling håland #erling haaland imagine #Erling haaland one shot #erling haaland fanfic #football one shot #manchester city imagine #erling haaland smut

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chillychive · 1 year ago

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Thanks for the tag @noworneverphantom !

Are you named after anyone?

My legal name, nope. I was a double rainbow baby and came after 2 deaths in the family so my parents wanted something totally new for me. My chosen (soon to be legal!!!:D) name, is accidentally sort of after a character I love and relate to a lot. I was reading and someone called out the main character, by last name, and I suddenly had this “yea! I’m here!” Moment and I was like wait why did I respond to that-HOLY SHIT I FOUND MY NAME. It’s a funny origin story for sure. My middle name is up for debate still, but if I don’t keep my birth one, I’m going to change it to follow a family naming scheme that I think is hilarious and a good way to subtly follow family tradition.

When was the last time you cried?

Several weeks ago. Honestly, I wish I cried more. It’s very hard for me to cry. I saw the milky way for the first time and just started sobbing. I cried for nearly an hour, just kneeling and staring up at the sky. That may have been the first time i understood that tears aren’t always sad.

Do you have kids?

Nope. I’m too young and despite adoring small little children a lot, I’m not sure I’d ever want kids of my own. I’d be too scared to mess them up. I feel like I could be quite the good parent too, but I couldn’t deal with the stress. Maybe adopting, tho. I’m sure as hell not giving birth. Ever.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I used to be really sarcastic, but I’ve stopped using it as much now. I’m trying to use more positive language and open myself up more to people, and stopping being sarcastic except when I’m parroting back to my friends to show them how insane whatever they’re doing is (I have a bunch of workaholics that somehow adopted me that I often need to stop before they work themselves to death) has helped me a lot to do that.

What sports do/have you played?

Hm. Currently nothing, but I’ve done a lot of odd sports. Probably my most normal is volleyball, which I got pretty good at but I struggled with the people part of team sports and got bored. Before that, I did competitive archery (I wasn’t great, I didn’t practice a lot but I got my 250 pin at my last comp before my coach retired), and swim team (my first summer I was amazing at it, my most recent I sucked so bad but at least I can say with confidence that I have a very strong back stroke).

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their demeanor. I study people a lot (I’m very much the quiet kid who watches everything), and how they carry themselves and how they interact with others is usually the first thing I notice. Their general vibe.

What’s your eye color?

Good question. When I was little they were bright blue and they’ve gotten a bit darker as I’ve grown but still very blue. As I grew up tho, this yellow-green color spread from the inside (no, not jaundice I checked) and now they can look blue, grey or green depending on lighting. I wear glasses, sadly, so I can’t show off how weird my eyes are, but they are very weird, and kinda pretty.

Scary movies or happy ending?

I avoid scary movies at all costs. Me & my ocd brain cannot handle that. I have a very low tolerance for fear. Happy endings are kinda lame and I love screwing over the main characters at the end, but if I had to pick one or the other, happy endings by a long shot.

Any special talents?

I have random knowledge on many odd things, thanks to being a compulsive researcher and internet access. I have a double jointed toe, and jaw (idk either tbh). I can overthink my way into any situation. I can recognize any plant native to my area (edible plants phase when I was 11). I have abt 50% of needed knowledge on most topics. I know most basic codes and often will geek out and learn more. I’m not 100% accurate but I’ll definitely recognize and mostly understand how to solve most basic ciphers. Im also very good at crafts, especially yarn. I am uniquely talented at unraveling balls of tangled yarn.

Where were you born?

In a laboratory where they bred sentient capybaras. Interpret that how u wish. (/nsrs)

What are your hobbies?

Taking on too big projects, writing, drawing, painting, digital art, harassing my friends, singing, piano, rpg, Minecraft, basket making, there’s probably more but I can’t think.

Do you have any pets?

Not unless you count my sibling.

How tall are you?

5’11” im tall lol

Favorite subject in school?

Dang these questions keep getting harder. First you want to know about the lab I was made in, now my favorite school subject?! Probably government, or choir. Choir is my safe space, def my favorite place in school, and the teacher is amazing. Government is fascinating and has a great teacher. In theory, English, but in practice the class is either boring or stressful (basically me going from “ha this is beneath me I’m rlly good at writing” to “oh fuck they actually expect me to *write* things”), so I’m not a huge fan.

Dream Job?

I wouldn’t mind a painfully repetitive job as long as they don’t mind me listening to music/a podcast while I work. But I suppose that’s not a dream job. Perhaps a writer for a sci-fi show. Maybe even Star Trek or Star Wars. It would be fun to have something long running to play with. That would be a good use of my wide skill range and love of space and creating worlds. Or getting to create and mold my own show in that sort of realm to make something truly new (aka sci-Fi as I see it, which seems to disagree with a lot of current creators or sci-fi stories) and getting to watch it unfold would be so beautiful. Watching the worlds I’ve sculpted on spreadsheets and very complicated Google slides explode onto the screen, with all of their mess and people and joy and weird little critters and imaginative ways to make it more realistic would be the most amazing thing. I’d have a hard time not picking up the actors and just going “MY BABY, I MADE YOU!”

On that very weird note, I’m going to tag some people and go to bed. @sadmushroomgoblin @doublemegative @wantmeifyouwantme @dragons-in-spaceee @twincityhacker

(Sry for the double tag, Ik @noworneverphantom already tagged a lotta y’all)

#ask game

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kiridarling · 4 years ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎.

katsuki bakugou | competitive sex + f!reader + pro hero!kats + hickeys + hair-pulling + ripping clothes + a surprise guest + more! minors dni.

— 1.8k words

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be little late."

“Katsuki. Hands off.”

The ash-blond sighs, grumbling like the petulant child he is before forcing his hands to his sides. Glaring at you through the mirror, he grunts, “Fuckin’ why.”

"Because I'm trying to get ready and you're in the way." You swat his hands away and reach for a brush, rolling your eyes when he ignores everything you just said in favor of hooking his chin around your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. You shrug him off, "Now move."

In your defense, you've been pushed to your limit.

You two are already late enough for the Gala as it is, you know, the one that's exclusively for pro heroes. And yet, for some reason, today's the day your boyfriend's brain seems to be in his dick.

Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck, hard enough to make you whimper before you rip his head away by the strands of his hair. He growls in frustration, the grip on your waist ever-tightening.

"Y'know...if people saw the type of shit you pull in private, they'd think you were the aggressive one."

"You let me get away with it," you respond absentmindedly, leaning towards the mirror until the cool from the counter presses into your gut. Mistake.

"Right. I've been too fuckin' soft, huh?" Katsuki says more to himself than to you before he's forcing you over the sink with a heavy hand on your back; the metal from the faucet knocks you in the collarbone. "That shit changes today."

"I—Kats, we don't have ti—" but the indisputable sound of ripping cloth bounces off your bathroom walls, and the addition of cool air brushing your inner thighs implies precisely what you hope he didn't just do.

His phone clatters on the counter before he's nudging your legs wider, nestling between them, and settling on his knees.

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be late."

"Katsuki Bakugou, did you just rip my fucking stockings?" You howl, grip tightening around the marble countertop in fury. Katsuki growls, delivering a heavy slap to your ass.

"I said fuckin' text him."

Your chest rises and falls with indignance, and yet you're punching in the code to his phone anyway, telling Izuku to reserve two spots at the table next to him because you two won't be able to do it yourselves.

"D'ya send it?" Katsuki asks, having a blast as he kneads your exposed ass to the point where it's sore. You nod, dropping the six-by-four box onto the countertop in resignation, and the ash-blond's chest rumbles at that, hand disappearing only to crack back down twice as hard. "Good girl."

Pushing your panties to the side, Katsuki wastes no time in sliding in his finger to the first knuckle, grinning when you shudder against him. You squeal as his teeth graze your inner thigh, and he hikes your knee onto the couch, dismissing how much you complain about the burn.

"What? Can't get a better view?" He growls, cheeky bastard, before he's sucking a hickey into your thigh because he knows you like it and pushing his finger in the rest of the way. You narrow your eyes, glaring at the small sliver of his smug face you can actually see in the mirror—and he's quickly filling you with a second finger, chuckling at your moan.

"You shouldn't have a view in the first place," you grumble, insistent on standing your ground. "You should be viewing the road because we're supposed to be driving right now."

"That's a real fuckin' pity then," Katsuki responds apathetically, lips pink as he moves to suck another hickey—closer to the apex of your thighs this time. You whimper as he scissors his fingers and passes a messy thumb over your clit, hips burning from holding this position for so long. With a final lick, Katsuki pulls away from his third or fourth mark (you're not too sure) and smacks his lips. "On the sink."

"On the c—Katsuki we have to g—wah!"

Katsuki takes it upon himself to hook his arms under your thighs and hoist you onto the cool thing, sending all miscellaneous bathroom items flying. You sigh, accepting the fact that you're probably not going to make it out of the house tonight as your back kisses the freezing glass, and Katsuki pushes your knees as far back as they'll go.

He curls a lip, and then he spits, getting saliva all over your pussy and thighs, and it's wholly and utterly lewd. And yet, you bite your lip at the feeling, and he grins, knowing you like it just as much as you'll say you hate it.

"You're a fuckin' dirty girl, y'know that?" Katsuki's eyes go dark. You huff, threading a hand through his ash-blond locks to tug—and you're the one grinning when he moans.

"I'm not the one who's making us skip a mandatory gala to get his dick wet," you quip with a raised eyebrow, and your hand never leaves his hair. "Am I?"

Katsuki growls with a curled lip, but you know better, and so does the clammy grip on your thigh. You tug on his hair again, and suddenly you're full of him, yelping in surprise as your arms scramble for his back for better purchase instead.

"What was that?" He asks breathily, hiding a groan behind a bitten lip. You're just thankful he's giving you time to adjust, or so you think, until he almost pulls out entirely before his hips snap forwards as hard as they can, knocking your spine into the mirror and a bottle of lotion onto the floor.

You moan, hands searching for his hair again because you know it's one of the only things that will provide a one-up—Katsuki bares his teeth at that, bending over to suck a mark into your neck and his hips continue to fuck you into tomorrow.

"You fit like a goddamn glove," Katsuki wheezes, the grip he has around your stocking-covered thigh edging on bruising. "So tight around me—fuck—"

"K-Kats—" you grapple for his dress shirt so hard it tears, causing you to crash against the counter and make more of a mess that's already been made. The ash-blond's hips don't do anything but speed up though, filling you to the point where a deep breath feels like too much.

"Fuck baby, you're so goddamn needy," Katsuki grabs your attention by your jaw with a gritty chuckle, "But this shit's only for me, ain't it? 'Cause you're fuckin' mine."

You whimper with a nod, nails latching onto hot and sticky skin now. Katsuki hisses as they rake down his back, but that only makes you want to dig in harder.

"Fuckin' say it—tell me you're mine and no one else's," he challenges with a glint in his carmine red eyes, and something in your gut churns underneath it. Something painfully primal and raw, which has you howling out:

"'M yours, only yours!"

You jolt when his thumb returns to your clit and refuses to let up. Katsuki growls at that, somehow finding the stamina to speed up—and gripping your shoulder for leverage. You moan, eyes fluttering as his cock reaches the deepest it has tonight, and you’re sure Katsuki can tell as well if his curse is anything to go by.

Ring, ring! Ring ring!

Surprisingly, Katsuki's phone survived the purge and still sits on the counter, albeit teetering on the edge of absolute destruction. The ash-blond catches it before it falls and has the nerve to swipe right, not allowing you to fit in an objection or any say in this at all.

"The fuck do you want, Deku?" He grunts, putting the phone on speaker before he sets it back down. You eep in protest, but all he does is mouth the words quiet, baby. So you're huff, biting onto the meat of your palm for extra precaution.

"Um, Kacchan? Where are you guys?" The greenette's voice echoes off the bathroom walls to the point where it's nearly comical how clueless he is, and yet Katsuki refuses to slow down. "People are starting to ask when you're getting here..."

"Not fuckin' goin'," Katsuki's sweat drips from his brow onto your chest, and all of a sudden, you're aware of how painfully close you are, but hold back in fear of making too much noise. Izuku sighs through the phone, and you can feel his disappointment from here.

"I—Kacchan, you can't just opt out of these things, you know," Izuku says, echoing your words from earlier. "Mandatory means you have to attend."

"Yeah, well, I got better shit to do, Deku," the ash-blond spits, though he's grinning like the devil because the asshole knows you're close, he can just tell at this point, and you hate how well he knows your body.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to go, Kacchan!" The pro-hero shrills, voice peaking out of pure frustration. "This is mandatory. As in, M-A-N-D-A-T—"

Katsuki hangs up.

"Why is everyone so goddamn mouthy these days?" He grunts, primarily to himself, and somehow you have the will to giggle. Katsuki's eyebrows furrow as you tighten around him, spurred when the head of his cock nudges the perfect spot, and his nails start to tear into what's left of your stockings as he shudders, "I—fuck baby, I'm gonna cum."

"What? Being on the phone with Izuku got you all riled up or something?" You jest breathily, and Katsuki growls, slapping your outer thigh.

"Don't fuckin' bring the nerd up right now," he wheezes, and you resist the urge to quip back—mainly because you're close yourself. You reach to pull Katsuki's hair again and his hips stutter, eyes fluttering with a breathy moan as he finally fills you up, keening over to dig his teeth into your neck. And his orgasm is only the catalyst for your own, thumping your hands against his chest as your body ignites like a live wire, toes curling and eyes screwed shut.

Katsuki stays seated in you as he catches his breath, head resting on the cool mirror with his ash-blond hair mattes brown to his forehead. He's always uncharacteristically soft while basking in his afterglow, face and chest flushed bright red from exertion as his eyes soften in a way he rarely lets them.

"You good?" He pants, chest still heaving as he blinks down at your exhausted figure. Somehow, you find the energy to nod.

"I don't feel like leaving anymore, though," you declare towards the ceiling. Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"Was hopin' you'd say that," he says gruffly—you narrow your eyes but bite your tongue. "Wanna watch a movie?"

A movie doesn't sound...bad.

You sigh in defeat (again), though jolting when Katsuki's phone rings. He quickly presses red, and 9 missed calls from shitty fucking deku is the first notification on his home screen. You two share a look—the ash-blond shrugs.

"What? I told the fucker I had better shit to do."

wrote this for a friends bday and i was like,,,i guess i could put it here too...

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader

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another-stark-sub · 3 years ago

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“Are you in love with him?” - Tony Stark Imagine

Notes: I wrote and editted this in two hours instead of going over my notes. Was gonna be spicy fluffy but it just turned into fluffy, and one of the lines/paragraphs (smth like that i dont remember how long that segment was) is based on/inspired by a fanfic on ao3 I bookmarked. I think it’s debt-free, but I could be wrong. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I’m so sorry im not on here more oftennnnn

- - -

“Of course I am. He’s Tony Stark.” You sighed, a weight finally lifted off your chest. “Who isn’t in love with him?”

Bruce blinked a few times, the confusion evident on his face. “Then, why don’t you tell him?”

You scoffed. These geniuses think they know everything, but they couldn’t see what was glaringly obvious to you. “He’s Tony Stark.”

The perplexed expression didn’t disappear from your friend’s expression. So, you explained further, “It’s already a privilege, beyond that really, to be talking to you, to any Avenger. To work with any of you is an honor, and to be friends with you” -you laughed- “it shouldn’t even be possible for someone like me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re amazing, too.”

You tried to find any tick, any clue that he was lying. But Bruce seemed to really believe this. “I know I’m amazing.” You shrugged. “I’m great. I love and I care deeply, and I have a stable job. I have a place for myself, and I take care of myself.” You clicked your tongue. “However, you all, all you Avengers… Forget out of my league, more like off planet.

“And Tony? He said it himself. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Add superhero, figurehead, public figure, ex-CEO, and savior of the universe. Bruce, I have confidence in myself, but Tony is something else entirely. No one is worthy of him or his affections unless they’re a god or another Avenger.”

It was hard to keep up with the statistical analysis you were trying to run. The literal one on your hologram and the one keeping your view of Tony in check. So, defeated, you sighed and leaned back in your chair.

Bruce closed his own work and stood across the lab bench. “Weirdly enough, I’m sure none of us Avengers think that way.” After a few taps of his pen against his palm, he added, “Aren’t there fans making posts about you, too? Tony showed me the, uh, Instagram videos.”

You laughed. “Fan edits don’t make an Avenger. Saving the world does.”

He shrugged. “You help us save the world.”

“From inside Avengers Tower on a computer.” You took a deep breath. “Look, Bruce, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But, I’m not telling him.” You shrugged and brought your statistical analysis back up.

You knew your own worth. You were worthy of an amazing partner and person. Tony Stark, though, was easy beyond that. You had accepted it soon after you realized your own feelings, and while they haven’t dwindled, you knew it was for the best.

~ - ~

Tony had never resorted to this before. It was never a question of his ability to code. In the past, it was because he didn’t need a program or an AI to do it for him. He could always tell if someone was into him. He knew when Pepper was into him. The moment Rhodey gazed at him back in their MIT days. Every single reporter and heiress and model he slept with, he knew when their thoughts turned sexual or romantic.

You, though. With you, he couldn’t fucking tell, and he knew it was because of his own feelings. Tony felt intensely for people before. Pepper, Rhodey, that one reporter all those years ago. However, with you, it wasn’t just that fluttery feeling in his gut or the immediate smile he can’t seem to stop when he sees you. It was the comfort he felt when he heard your voice or the softness he could feel in his heart when he saw a picture of you.

It was like his entire life was full of panic, never resting, never stopping. But when you entered his life with a gentle smile and a quick wit, it felt like he could finally breathe.

It was addicting.

“Sir, I have the calculations.”

“Hit me.”

“Speech diagnostics of you and of Ms. (Y/l/n) are similar. Whenever you speak of her, 79.4% is positive and 18.8% is neutral. Ms. (Y/l/n) has 78.9% positive and 17.2% neutral dialogue regarding you. When she speaks of you, her heartrate increases by 4.6%, and similarly, yours increases by 4.1%. When speaking to each other, heartrate initially increases by 7%.”

Tony nodded. “How does this compare to other Avengers? I gush about Banner like a teenager.”

“Well, sir, while you and Ms. (Y/l/n) have high positive dialogue about other Avengers, all of them have at least a 10% decrease compared to each other. And heartrate varies depending on the topic of conversation.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Am I excluding all non-super friends? Include any agents, co-workers. Pep isn’t an Avenger after all.”

Friday took two seconds and responded. “You and Ms. (Y/l/n) have a significant difference in speech diagnostics when talking about or to each other compared to any other Avenger, co-worker, and friend.”

When Tony remained quiet, Friday added, “Do you want me to repeat the results?”

“You don’t need to, Friday.”

“But you’re not doing anything with the new information. Would you like me to save these findings?”

“Friday,” Tony warned.

There was silence as the love-wrecked scientist pressed his fist between his brows. Data and cold hard facts said yes, but was it right?

“Sir?”

“Yes, Fri?”

“Would you like me to play examples for you?”

He blinked. “Examples?”

“Yes. Of you and her talking about each other positively.”

It was an invasion of privacy. Tony shouldn’t.

“Play examples.”

Before his rational mind could tell Friday no.

“Are you in love with him?”

Tony’s eyes widened. This was too private. It might not even be about him.”Friday-”

“Of course I am.”

“-stop playback.”

“He’s Tony Sta-”

“Playback stopped.”

Tony scrambled. “What? No, wait, go back. Play it.” Screw rational. You knew he was a narcissist. You wouldn’t expect him to hear that and stop.

“He’s Tony Stark. Who isn’t in love with him?”

“Then, why don’t you tell him?”

“... He’s Tony Stark.”

Tony started to fiddle with something on his desk. “What does that mean?”

Friday answered, “Dr. Banner asked her if she loved you, and she said yes. This means that she’s in love with you.”

Why did he program Friday like this? “I know that. I mean, those two lines. Why does me being Tony Stark stop her from saying something?” Was it the attention? Did you want some sort of normal life away from cameras and international gossip? Maybe it was the Avenging. Having a partner who was always out risking death wasn’t ideal.

Sure, you could be in love with him. But you couldn’t be with him.

“Maybe you should ask her.”

There were celebrities who were able to live normal lives. Some paid to have prosthetics for going outside of moved to a remote country to get out of the spotlight. He thrived off attention, but he could give that up. Avenging, he couldn’t give that up, but maybe he could cut back. Take a mission a month instead of one a week. Or maybe take more digital missions. He wasn’t just Iron Man after all. He was a genius, could hack into the Pentagon if he really wanted to.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I could talk to her.”

~ - ~

The moment you put your bag down on your lab table, Tony said, “You’re gonna be mad.”

You narrowed your brows. “What did you do?” You pressed your palm to your chest. “Oh my god, Peter overwrote my data, didn’t he? Ugh, I know he said he’s great at managing holograms, but really, Tone, you should’ve given him a tutorial before giving him access.” You brought up your holograms to check your data and analysis.

“That’s not it.” Tony stood next to you as you looked through your files. “I did something that invaded your privacy.”

You tilted your head. Closing the holograms, you took a deep breath and slowly asked, “How?”

Tony flashed an embarrassed grin before sighing. “You’re gonna be shocked, too, so prepare yourself.”

You did not know where this was going at all. What horrible thing could Tony have done? Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath and nodded at him to continue.

Tony cleared his throat. “Usually, I can tell when someone has feelings for me. People are obvious about it, but you? You aren’t. So, I had Friday do some analysis on our speech patterns. Me, being in love with you, was one of my controls. You and your dialogue regarding me was the main variable.

“Long story short, I accessed some audio of you and Bruce talking, and you said that you loved me but could never tell me.” He glanced at you. “So that’s why I need to apologize.”

Your expression didn’t change. No, that wasn’t it. You, at first, looked confused. Now, there was just nothing. No expression. No wrinkled brow in anger of flushed cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing.

Tony blinked. “You can shout at me now. If you were confused about when to shout at me.”

You licked your lips before taking a deep breath. “Ok, that was a lot.” You pursed your lips then opened it. But, you couldn’t really think of anything to say. You didn’t even know how to feel. “So you know that I” -you pointed at yourself and then at him- “and that I didn’t wanna tell you.” You shook your head. “Wait, do you know why I didn’t want to tell you?”

A broken scoff left Tony’s lips. “Yeah. I’m a mess.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Wait, you’re a mess? That’s why you think I don’t want to tell you?”

“Among other reasons?”

Other reasons?

You crossed your arms. “Ok, what other reasons?”

Tony looked offended. Still, he listed, “I’m surrounded by cameras, and everyone wants some privacy. Can’t get it if you’re with me. Then, there’s the Iron Man of it all. I went into a wormhole with a nuke. That was also all over the news. Then, there’s the whole daddy issues thing. I’m working on it, but it takes a while-”

He rambled on and on, listing reason after reason, and with each one, you felt tears well up in your eyes. It was a weird mix of heartbreaking, confusing, and enraging. The emotions built up slowly with each word that left his mouth, overwhelming you to the point that you couldn’t even say how it happened.

But, as Tony paced and talked so horribly about himself, you somehow ended up in front of him with your hands on his cheeks.

You only realized it when Tony stopped talking and when his breath touched your lips. “What?” he asked.

You didn’t answer. You kissed him instead.

It was a hard press of your lips against his. It was short, and it wasn’t much.

But by the way Tony gripped the back of your neck and pulled you back for another kiss, you’d think it was his first kiss. You knew it wasn’t. Not just because you knew he had kissed all sorts of people before you, but because he somehow knew how to make you gasp and melt into him.

While one hand kept you steady, the other trailed down your back and pulled you closer to him. His lips moved fluidly against yours, pushing and pulling, and everytime he moved back, you chased his lips to continue the kiss, because the softness, the passion, the fact it was finally happening, was all too good. You didn’t want it to stop.

Your hands started to move. For someone so rich, his t-shirt was rough when you twisted it between your fingers and pulled it to you. Slowly, you trailed your fingers along the side of his neck. You rubbed your thumb along his pulse point, a reminder that this was indeed real. You were kissing Tony Stark, and- He was pulling away again.

Desperate, you leaned forward, reached around to hold onto his shoulder, and kissed the side of his neck.

He let out a breathy laugh, and before you could suck on his skin, his stubble scratched your cheek.

You looked up at him and giggled when his nose bumped into yours. When your giggles turned into a smile, he kissed you again, a soft and short kiss, before leaning his forehead against yours.

His thumbs rubbed circles into your waist as you lightly scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he seemed busy gazing at you.

“Speechless, Stark?” you teased.

He laughed. For a few seconds, he just gazed at you, seeming to prove your point. Tony’s hand began to wander, from stroking your cheek to pushing back your hair. “More confused.”

Remembering why you interrupted him, you brought your hands to his cheeks again and held him there so he couldn’t look away from you. “You are amazing, Tony. That’s the reason I didn’t want to tell you.” You shrugged. “You’re too good for me.”

His fidgeting stopped. “Well, that’s not true.”

“Tony, you’re an Avenger.”

“Technically, you are also an Avenger.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Who can’t cook scrambled eggs.”

“You literally saved the universe.”

“After producing weapons of mass destruction for decades.”

You glared at him.

He glared back. Then, he fought back. “I don’t plan on retiring.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“I have severe PTSD, anxiety, maybe ADHD, all mixed with trauma galore.”

“And I will learn to help you.”

“I couldn’t give you a normal life.”

“I’d rather have you anyway.”

He opened his mouth, but you instead told him, “I’d rather have you than anything. As long as, well, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Tony shook his head with a smile. “Cause, I’d rather have you for, well, how does til you get tired of me sound?”

You laughed. “Won’t happen. But, sure.” You kissed him again.You would’ve kept going, but there was something to settle first. “By the way, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Friday recording right now?”

“Friday records everything. It’s in the contract.”

Friday added, “I record everything that happens in the tower.”

“Ok.” You could work with that. “I’ll forgive you for the invasion of privacy.”

Tony beamed, and you couldn’t help your own smile when he did. Still, you continued, “On one condition.” Your own smile turned devious. “I want evidence that Star Spangled Banner took my ice cream.”

Tony burst out laughing. He kissed you again, a deep kiss, and when he was done, he mumbled, “God, I love you,” against your lips.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #tony stark fluff #im so sorry im not on here oftennnnnnnnnnnn #dentla schools too busy and i dont wike it #thats not true i do like it its just busy and stressful and doesnt give me time to write #and smut takes me longer to write than fluff #so i can only write fluff rnnnnnn #anyway i miss you all #love you all #hope the universe treats you welllll

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h34rtizuku · 3 years ago

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༺♡༻ if ur under 18, dni ✧ luv u tho

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

୨୧ izuku is a pro hero with a 6 year old kid and it’s not mf easy

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ you're not too big on kids but you're good with them and that he experiences first hand ~

୨୧ he’s at the store one weekend with kiddo and he’s in the chip aisle looking for which type he wants to get

୨୧ mumbling to himself about which type he’s craving now but what if that craving changes later and he wants a different flavor instead

୨୧ he lets go of the little one’s hand for a split second to get the bag off the shelf and once the grocery is in his arms he turns to his side to grab the little one’s hand once more, only to find him not there

୨୧ he looks up and down the aisle - no kid

୨୧ he goes to the neighboring aisles - not there

୨୧ he goes all around the store, nervously sweating, muttering insults to himself that he lost his only kid - how stupid and unfit of a parent he was

୨୧ until he comes upon an aisle and hears the sniffles of a small child the child took a bit after him when he was a kid, a bit of a crybaby

୨୧ but he sees you

୨୧ calmly reassuring the child, patting his back, telling him to calm down and not to worry that you’ll go look for his father together

୨୧ he doesn’t know why but the sight tugs at his heart, there is something so pure and natural about how you are treating his child

୨୧ but he’s breaking up the sweet moment with a call of his child’s name causing the little boy to turn around and rush into izuku’s large warm arms

୨୧ you’re standing there a little shocked because omg that’s pro hero deku in the mf flesh

୨୧ but you're also happy that the lost boy has been reunited with his father

୨୧ you're about to walk off with a smile when he stops you

୨୧ he thanks you profusely for your help and you’re shyly like ‘it’s no biggie’ with blushed cheeks

୨୧ he asks if he can properly thank you and you’re like dude it’s really no problem

୨୧ he really is thankful but there is also something deep inside him that doesn’t quite want to let you go

୨୧ so he’s like let me buy your groceries and take you out for coffee

୨୧ and you’re about to refuse but you’re a poor college student so getting this weeks groceries for free was one thing

୨୧ but also how are you gonna pass up having coffee with the number one hero and his cute little mini-me ???

୨୧ so yall are at a cute lil cafe where he learns that you're a college student and looking for a partime job over the summer

୨୧ he’s like, you know what, why don’t i hire you as my nanny

୨୧ you’re like i’m not sure, i’m not really a kid person

୨୧ he’s like, i saw you with him, you’ll be just fine - besides he’s a good kid, he just needs someone to watch over him and feed him

୨୧ also i pay really well

୨୧ so you’re like … say less

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ so the first day on the job you arrive at like 8 am, he gave you the code to his door so you just let yourself in

୨୧ you see kiddo at the kitchen table just eating his cheerios or whatever but no sign of izuku

୨୧ so you just go over and take a seat next to the kid and make small talk with him

୨୧ then you hear some shuffling coming from behind you causing you to turn around and investigate

୨୧ lo and behold you see a shirtless izuku with nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low on his wide hips

୨୧ he’s got a towel across his broad shoulders that he’s using to dry the jade curls that haven’t been shaved off as a part of his undercut

୨୧ you follow the droplets of water as they slide down the crevices of his pectorals and abdomen, drifting down his v line and the small tuft of hair leading down from his belly button and melting into the waistline of his pants

୨୧ you’re trying not to salivate at the sight but you also can’t bring yourself to look away just yet wanting to memorize and study the location of every scar and freckle littering his muscular torso

୨୧ he stops drying his hair for a minute and finally sees you like ‘oh great you’re here - how was the trip over here? it wasn’t too hard to find right?’

୨୧ and you’re burning eyes finally tear away from caramel torso and you’re like ‘nope, i found it just fine’ ahaha

୨୧ he gives you a little low down on like, what kid likes to eat, what he doesn’t, what he likes to do, when he goes down for a nap … all that good babysitting stuff

୨୧ after he’s dressed in his hero outfit, he’s kissing his lil nugget goodbye, telling him to treat you nicely, and with several final thank you’s he’s out the door

୨୧ and that’s the start of your job nannying the kid of the number one hero

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ he was right, the kid is a really easy kid

୨୧ he goes down easy for his nap, he’s potty trained, inko raised him like she did izuku so he’s basically the perfect kid, he’s really sweet and will sit down and watch movies with you or he plays really easy by himself playing with his deku, all might, and dynamite action figures

୨୧ and if how easy a job it was, or the smoking hot employer wasn’t enough, the first time you got your paycheck was

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ one day, there was a sudden summer storm that hit right as you reached your stop on the bus

୨୧ you didn’t have an umbrella, forcing you to run to izuku’s house in the pouring rain

୨୧ you show up through the front door and he comes in to greet you only to see you drenched and shivering due to the ac in his home

୨୧ he’s like, “hey y/n how- oh my god, you’re soaked.”

୨୧ and you’re rubbing at your arm awkwardly and trying to create any sort of warmth as you tell him how you got in this mess

୨୧ he’s taking in your soaked form and suddenly his worrying eyes turn into curious ones as he watches a droplet slide from your chin, down your neck, and down your chest to fall between the top alley of your breasts due to the first few buttons of your top being opened

୨୧ the white top you decided today was the perfect day to wear, and without a bra no less

୨୧ but in your shivering and embarrassment you forgot all about that minor detail

୨୧ oh but izuku didn’t forget it

୨୧ he imagined that water droplet sliding down the valley of your breasts underneath your blouse and gliding over your stomach, almost getting lost in your belly button, only to disappear under your waistband

୨୧ he imagined what it would be like to lick the droplets off your hot skin

୨୧ he scanned back up and noticed the tight see-through material of your shirt hugging your tits, dipping into every crevice leaving nothing to the imagination

୨୧ he sees the dark hue of your nipples from behind the cloth, along with the 2 little peaks your buds have made due to the cold air circulating in his house bonus points if you have your nipples pierced, i’m jealous of you

୨୧ he pulls his gaze away when he sees a violent shiver rack your body

୨୧ he leaves for a moment and comes back with a warm towel, almost sad to see the sight of your tits gone but your comfort and warmth was more important to him

୨୧ he tells you to dry off a bit as he goes and gets the shower started for you

୨୧ you’re thanking him yet apologizing for the trouble as you’re gonna make him late for work

୨୧ and he’s denying any negative comments coming out your mouth saying that he technically is at work as helping people is his job and he wouldn’t be a good hero if he didn’t help someone right in front of him

୨୧ he tells you to take as long as you need getting washed up and getting the temperature back in your body

୨୧ he doesn’t have time to think about how you’re just a few feet and a closed bathroom door away from him, naked ~ as he picks out the smallest pieces of clothing he has in his closet

୨୧ he finds an old t-shirt and shorts from his high school days and lays them on his bed telling you through the door that when you’re done he has clothes waiting for you

୨୧ you don’t take too long getting washed up as you know he needs to get to work so only about 10 minutes later you’re walking into the living to izuku sitting on the couch watching the movie his kid wanted to put on

୨୧ he sees you come in from his peripherals as his heart damn near stops seeing you in his clothes

୨୧ the clothes were so small they couldn’t fit him any longer, not after getting a post-high school growth spurt and getting broader due to his hero work

୨୧ but the fact that his already small clothes were swallowing you just did something to him

୨୧ blame it on his size kink he don’t know he has quite yet

୨୧ he pulls himself together to tell you that he threw your soiled clothes in the wash before he says his good byes to his kiddo

୨୧ he’s heading out the door while you and his son are telling him to be safe out there when just as he’s about to leave you call out to him

୨୧ he’s turning around maybe a lil too fast, but he sees you with an umbrella in your hand telling him that you ‘wouldn’t want him to make the same mistake you did’ with a cute bashful smile on your face that almost made him call in sick to work

୨୧ but he knew he couldn’t do that

୨୧ screw being number one hero and all that

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ a few weeks later he comes home from work, tired af as one would

୨୧ but he gets to the door and sees you and his kiddo waiting for him inside

୨୧ you have a cake in your hands and his little one pops one of those little confetti canons at his father with a loud “happy birthday”

୨୧ he’s a lil shocked, a lil surprised, but in a good way

୨୧ he looks at you

୨୧ “well kiddo told me it was your birthday and with a quick little google search i confirmed it to be true. and i felt bad that you had to work on your birthday so we decided to bake you a cake while you were gone and wait for you to get home.” you said softly

୨୧ he had totally forgotten it was his birthday but if it being his birthday meant that he could see you in a little apron waiting for him to come in the door …

୨୧ damn he wished it was his birthday everyday

୨୧ y’all move into the kitchen to start cutting the cake and as you’re plating slices you lean down to the little one and tell him to ‘go get the birthday card he made for daddy’

୨୧ and izuku who wasn’t quite paying attention is like “hmm?” and you just like look at him

୨୧ and he’s like, “oh i thought- you were calling for me-“

୨୧ and you’re like mf, i don’t call you daddy yet

୨୧ but yall just kinda like awkwardly get past it and move on when the child comes running in with his folded construction paper with a green stick figure on the front labeled ‘dad’

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ it all leads up to the day about a month later when you arrive at their home to no sign of the kid

୨୧ and you’re like ~ wtf? he always comes to greet me at the door with a hug and he’s not doing that

୨୧ and you’re looking in the kitchen and the living room to see no sign of the child

୨୧ when you’re about to head into his room to see if he somehow decided to sleep in today, izuku comes out his room

୨୧ and you’re like, where’s the kid?

୨୧ and he’s like, oh, i meant to tell you that my mom came by just a few minutes ago and decided to take him out for the day

୨୧ so you’re like, okay, should i just go home then?

୨୧ and he’s like, you could but i just so happen to have the day off and i think it would be nice if we got to spend some time together, without the kid around

୨୧ and you’re like, what am i gonna do ?? say no ?!

୨୧ so y’all go out for coffee, take a walk around the park, and then go out for lunch before going back to his house to watch like a movie or whatever

୨୧ y’all get back home and he sits on the couch scrolling through streaming sites looking for a movie and you’re coming back from the bathroom

୨୧ when you’re walking to the couch, your foot catches one of the kid’s toys that was lying on the floor causing you to trip and stumble forward

୨୧ izuku moves to catch you causing you to fall into his chest and practically on top his lap

୨୧ you’re out of breath from the sudden adrenaline spike but the close proximity between the two of you isn’t making it any easier to catch said breath

୨୧ neither of y’all are moving, just staring into each others eyes as he quietly asks “are you alright?”

୨୧ his warm breath dancing across your face as you give him a light nod

୨୧ his eyes suddenly move to your lips and out of his mouth comes the words you thought you’d never hear

୨୧ “can i kiss you?”

୨୧ and with a split glance to his lips you’re nodding fervently

୨୧ not soon enough his lips are on yours : plump, warm, and soft ~ tasting of the coffee and the mint gum he chewed after lunch

୨୧ you two pull apart reluctantly but he sets his forehead against yours as he catches his breath

୨୧ “please tell me you feel the same way for me as i do for you?” he whispers

୨୧ you bite your lip, “and how do you feel about me?”

୨୧ “like i want to hold you. kiss you. and come home to you everyday. not just as a babysitter.”

୨୧ “is that all?” you ask

୨୧ “i have a few other things i feel about you but i think it’s too early to tell you.”

୨୧ you link your arms around his neck and play with the stubble of emerald that is his undercut, “i wanna know.” you whisper.

୨୧ he’s like, are you sure…. you won’t think it’s inappropriate ?

୨୧ and you reassure him cuz little does he know of the countless nights you laid with your hand between your thighs imagining it was him getting you off

୨୧ “well uh- i-i really wanna fuck you.” he quietly admits

୨୧ you readjust your position to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs

୨୧ “how?” you ask

୨୧ “how what?” he replies as he tentatively places his hands lightly on your waist

୨୧ “how,” you start, leaning down to ghost your lips atop his, “do you wanna fuck me?”

୨୧ his breath stutters, something about those words coming out of your mouth

୨୧ he’s quiet for longer than you would like, “c’mon tell me” you whine, moving your lips from his mouth, down his jaw, and along his neck

୨୧ his breath quickens, soon letting out a low groan when you stumble upon his sweet spot

୨୧ you pull away causing him to almost whine, “start talking ~ tell me how you wanna fuck me.”

୨୧ “well f-first i wanna kiss all over you. your cheeks. your neck. your hands. i w-wanna feel your warm soft skin under my lips.”

୨୧ he pauses a bit but you urge him to continue

୨୧ “i wanna play with your tits. i wanna suck on your nipples. i’ve wanted to ever since you came in soaked by the rain that day.”

୨୧ as he gets more confident, his voice gets deeper, raspier, laced with lust

୨୧ “i wanna kiss all the way down your body until i reach that sweet pussy of yours, i’ve been dying to get a taste.

୨୧ you let out a low moan into his collar bone, “and then what?”

୨୧ “then after i’ve made you come on my tongue a few times, i wanna stuff you full of my cock. not stopping until i breed you. gave you a baby of your own since you’re so perfect with kiddo already.”

୨୧ “i wanna make you a mommy.”

୨୧ you gasp, your breaths coming out in short hurried puffs as you come up from sucking on his neck

୨୧ “so why don’t you?”

୨୧ he’s frozen

୨୧ “why don’t you fuck your child in me, daddy?”

୨୧ and just like that whatever submissive izuku moment you had going on, is gone

୨୧ he’s on top of you in seconds, squishing you into the couch cushions beneath you as he does just what he said he would do, and then some

yoooooo, happy belated birthday to the actual love of my life. i cried like three times over him yesterday. i hope he’s doing good.

also i’m not gonna sit here & pretend i know anything about how the japanese choose to name their offspring so that’s why kiddo is nameless

#bnha smut #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #mha deku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku smut #deku headcanons #deku #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku smut #izuku headcanons

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yutahoes · 3 years ago

Text

Cupid

pairing : single dad! Yuta Nakamoto x Y/N

word count : 1.2k words

genre : fluff

Based on this ask, not that techy Yuta drabble.

There is a reason why Yuta hated going to the mall with his daughter. Don't get him wrong. He loves Keiko more than his life. But the overly enthusiastic child would always tire him out. "Daddy, look!" his daughter called, pointing at something in the toy store. "It's a unicorn!"

True enough there was a white and purple unicorn robot walking on the aisle. He whispered a curse before calling for Keiko as she ran to where the toy is. The little girl watched in awe as the unicorn walked, even making sounds like asking for her name and asking if she wanted to be friends. Yuta was startled, toys can talk now? "Can I try?" The younger girl asked the female holding a tablet who just nodded and handed her the gadget.

"Oh no, Kei." Yuta said, taking the tablet and handing it back to the girl. "You might break it."

The younger's eyes were tearing up. "I won't." She said while breathing heavily. "I just wanted to have a unicorn." She rubbed her eyes, her voice coming off as a whisper. "You promised you're going to buy me a unicorn because you cannot bring mommy back."

And he hates it when Keiko uses this reason to get what she wants. His mom was right, she's growing spoiled.

The girl on the counter gave him an apologetic look as she handed the box of the unicorn toy which he already bought. "There's a step-by-step instruction and a QR Code for the video to learn how to assemble this robot." She explained and he just nodded, keeping an eye on his daughter who was playing in the ball pit area of the toy store. She handed a card which has the company name and the number. "If you have trouble, you can call this number." Yuta nodded, getting the box before calling for Keiko to go home.

He already spent money on her unicorn. He had to get her home immediately.

Keiko was so excited to play with the unicorn that she kept on telling Yuta to open the box and assemble it for her. But it was more difficult than he thought. Why is assembling a toy so complicated? With wires, screws, and even programming that only hurt his head. “Does this mean I won’t have a unicorn?” she said with quivering lips. Oh no, she’s going to cry.

He saw the card that was given to him, “We’re going to call for someone to help.” But Keiko was already crying that made him sigh. Why is it this hard to take care of a daughter?

The doorbell can be heard while he’s making some snacks for his daughter who still refused to talk to him. A girl, in glasses and in uniform, smiled at him then introduced herself as a technician of the company where the toy was made. Yuta let her in, glancing at his daughter who was wide-eyed at the visitor. “I’m sorry I had to call. I don’t know what to do about the toy.” He said then returned with the box of the robot unicorn.

“No worries.” She said while taking out the parts from the box. “Can I borrow a screwdriver?”

Yuta nodded before disappearing to the kitchen where his tools are. He heard his daughter’s faint voice but can’t make up what she was saying. When he appeared in the living room, the girl was seated on the floor next to his daughter while telling her the parts of the robot. “I’ll just get something to eat. Please let me know if you need anything.” Again, she smiled before handing the little girl a piece of the robot.

He took some juice from the fridge, smearing peanut butter on the sandwich when his daughter’s voice caught his attention. “You’re so cool. You’re cooler than my dad.” He rolled his eyes before a laugh took his attention. That was one infectious laugh.

When he returned to the living room, Keiko was already sitting on her lap and helping her with the screw. Funny, Keiko had never been close to anyone like that before. The body of the unicorn is almost done that startled him. It was like a puzzle piece and he doesn’t have the patience to do it. Even Keiko was frustrated when she cannot put one part to another but he watched as his daughter carefully tighten the screws as if she had been doing it all her life. “This is fun.” The younger girl exclaimed in delight, giggling at what she was doing.

Yuta excused himself to do some things around the house while the younger girl is occupied. Hearing her laugh and bond with another girl surprised him, she’s different when she’s with him. This might be the first time, since her mother left, that he saw how happy she is. “Daddy!” Keiko called from the stairs. “Y/N unnie wants to borrow your phone.” She’s calling her unnie now? And Y/N? The name sounds pretty.

He handed the phone to his daughter and watched her run down the stairs, even hearing a female voice to be careful. He never thought he’ll miss having an adult female in the house. It wasn’t even a minute that passed when he heard a robotic voice greeting ‘good day’ and the younger girl shouting in delight. Yuta went down the stairs to check what happened and even if the unicorn was walking to where he is, he stopped at the sight of Keiko hugging Y/N. “Thank you, unnie. You’re the best.”

“I’m just doing my job, Kei.” The older guy smiled. She let the older call her Kei, a name she doesn’t want anyone, even her friends, to call her. “Now you can play with your unicorn.”

What did she do to get his daughter’s affection? Is it the unicorn? Keiko happily took the phone from her hands, clicking on the screen to make the unicorn say different words and it makes her giggle each time. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.” Surprise can be seen on her face. So cute. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Do you want to stay forever?” Keiko asked that made the two of you turn to her. Yuta was surprised, does she like her that much? “Oh, I was asking the unicorn but you can stay forever and be my mommy, unnie.”

“Keiko!” Yuta called and she argued that she’s pretty. Y/N giggled. “I’m sorry about her but I’ll count you in for dinner.” The girl nodded before Yuta disappeared to the kitchen.

He can only hear whispered voices and the unicorn saying words like ‘Nice to meet you’ and ‘Do you want to be friends?’ “Unnie, do you think daddy is handsome?” The older girl just chuckled, that lovely sound that resonated through the whole house.

Yuta wanted to call his daughter’s attention for saying something unbelievable but what the older girl said surprised him, “Aren’t you a charmer, Kei?” God, it must be a sign. That was what Keiko’s mom would always tell him when they were dating.

“I can play cupid for you and daddy.” And he knew once Keiko wants, she’ll surely get.

Part Two

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff #dad yuta #nct yuta #nct 127 yuta #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff

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waka-chan-out · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering (if you do headcanons) if you have any Inarazaki smut headcanons? Pls I love them sm

NSFW inarizaki headcanons

oh, i absolutely do headcanons. thank you for the message!

unfortunately i haven’t read the manga so i don’t know all of inarizaki’s players, but i’ll do the boys i feel comfortable with

post-timeskip, obviously

includes: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintori

content warning: mentions of edging, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, hair pulling, a bit of somnophilia, hickies, semi-public sex, handcuffs, oral, weed. nothing too crazy.

miya atsumu

- We’ve seen how this man acts on and off the court. He’s so into dirty talk it’s not even funny.

- I feel like he likes being praised but is certainly not opposed to a little degradation if it feels right in the moment. He’ll definitely be doing a combination of both to you, calling you his “pretty little whore” and the like.

- He loves getting his hair pulled. Like, groaning against you as he eats you out and you yank on his hair until you genuinely start to worry, loves it.

- You are his favorite alarm clock. Please give this man head to wake him up. He will never be the same.

- He’s a biter, folks. Prepare to have hickies all over, all the time.

- Quickies are his favorite thing on the planet. One time he had two games in a day and rushed out during the break saying it was a family emergency. Really he just drove home, fucked you, and made it back in time to play.

- You can absolutely get Atsumu to sub for you, but it’ll take some extra effort. We all know he’s such a brat. What does it? Overstim. He comes hard in your hand and you keep going and he nearly blacks out, begging you to stop but refusing to use your safe word. It’s the first time you’ve seen Atsumu run his mouth that much without something to say.

miya osamu

- We’ve seen how he serves. All I can say is: edging. This man will lay on his side next to you or have you between his legs with your back leaning against his chest and gets you to the brink over and over until you’re squirming and begging him to get it over with.

- He’s a little lazy, but in the best way. He doesn’t exert his energy when he doesn’t need to, so he loves when you ride him. When you don’t, he’ll lean his head against yours or pull you close to him from behind and never take his hand off of your clit.

- Not really into sexting, but one time when you were away for a while he called you and just asked you to talk to him. Didn’t take long for you to figure out he was getting off just listening to you speak. He will deny it until he dies but you’ll never forget it.

- Very patient so begging doesn’t work on him. If you’re in the mood and he’s not he’ll just ignore you or say “no” and wait for you to move on. But the secret weapon you discover accidentally . . . if you suck on his fingers he will collapse. It doesn’t show so much on his face the first couple of times, but his breathing falters just a bit and he tries to look away, face bright red. It ends with you caged underneath him every time. Do not attempt unless you intend to wake a beast.

- I might be the only one, but I don’t think Osamu would hook up inside Onigiri Miya. Too many health code violations. However, when he’s in the back office counting the register? You’re free to get down on your knees and relieve him after the stressful day. He’s also definitely asked an employee to take over for a bit just to pull you out to his car and rail you. Yes, it was dark, but there were people coming and going from the parking lot. Your knees were wobbling by the time he was done with you and it put a big smile on his face as he held the door for you on your way back in.

shinsuke kita

- I love this man.

- Kita feels a bit more submissive to me, but when he’s in charge he’s extremely particular with every move he makes. He knows exactly how to touch you to get the reaction he wants. Be patient and let him work and you’ll come unraveled in his arms

- Won’t ever ask you for favors, so often times gets pretty pent up. He just needs you to lay him down and tell him you’re going to take care of him. He doesn’t want to depend on you to calm him down in that way, but something about getting head relaxes his whole body for a week, so he’ll never turn you down.

- Favorite position is missionary. This man kisses you through the whole thing.

- After your first hookup, he was laying next to you, eyes blown wide, face flushed, hair messy, breathing heavily. He turned over on his side with a smile and asked if you wanted to meet his grandmother. You laughed at him but he was dead serious. He was so infatuated with you that all he could think about was introducing you to all of his family and friends.

- You brought out handcuffs once and he blushed every time he looked at them. Once you actually put them on him he was so good and listened to everything you said. He was breathing heavy and had pink cheeks for an hour after but he tells you all the time about how much he really enjoyed “that time we used those things on my wrist” and how “we should really do that again sometime.”

- Surprises himself with how much he likes giving up control. Doesn’t think he’s terribly kinky but you pull his hair a few times and call him a good boy and he absolutely melts. He’ll do anything for you if you tell him he’s doing a good job.

- This man doesn’t really moan. He whimpers. He’s all yours and makes that abundantly clear. It takes a lot of trust for him to act like this with anyone, but fuck it, he loves you. He’d do anything just for you to grab his jaw and tell him what to do one more time.

rintaro suna

- Definitely starts out as friends with benefits with anyone. Likes to have a level of trust with a hookup but not a level of commitment.

- He absolutely smokes and is touchy feely when he does so. He’s called you at 3 am for hookups on multiple occasions. Also, shotgunning.

- Makes the prettiest faces when you give him head. He doesn’t know you’re watching because he has his eyes closed, but with his face screwed up and brows furrowed, you don’t think he could possibly look better. Especially when he covers his mouth to stifle a sound that comes out as a groan, he just looks so desperate and fucked. He thinks you’re just being nice for offering it so often, but really you just can’t get enough of him.

- Likes taking naps with you. More specifically, likes waking you up from naps with a gentle finger and a flick of his tongue. You always stretch as you begin to stir, grinding your hips up into him in a way that drives him crazy. Your breathing starts slow and heavy but quickly turns into gasps. He savors every moment of it, obsessed with the way you squirm when he wraps his arms around your thighs and gives you nowhere to run.

- Similar to how he feels about Kita, he doesn’t like how put together you seem to be, even in the bedroom. It’s like you’re holding something back. So, one night, he focuses entirely on you. He uses his hands and mouth and himself and even a toy to get you reeling, shaking and whimpering with tears plastering your cheeks. That’s the view he’s been waiting for. He can’t stop himself until you’re so fucked out that you can’t open your eyes or mutter anything but his name. He realizes he’s in deep when his first instinct is to wrap around you, brushing your hair off your face lazily and kissing your forehead.

#haikyuu smut #atsumu smut #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x reader #osamu smut #osamu headcanons #osamu x reader #kita smut #kita headcanons #kita x reader #suna smut #suna headcanons #suna x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

Round 1: Fruit Snacks

Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve, Sam, and Bucky try to prank you. Emphasis on try.

Warnings: none, well I guess manipulative crying? but in a funny way...

Word Count: 1384

a/n: my inspiration for this? A box of fruit snacks. What am I doing with my life?

Masterlist

You love fruit snacks. You've even made a definitive ranking of the best brands. Scooby snacks were the clear winner, but hard to find at the grocery store sometimes.

When Scooby Snacks were unavailable, you went for Welch's. Mostly because they came in a 96 pack and three out of five flavors were pretty good.

Whenever you're feeling sad or upset in any way, your go to is a bag of fruit snacks.

There was one especially tough day when you opened the bag only for it to be full of only orange and grape.

You burst into tears in the kitchen.

All this to say, it's become very clear to everyone in the house that you always have fruit snacks hidden somewhere in the kitchen.

You used to keep them in your room, but then you started eating way too many, so you moved them to the kitchen.

You hid them because, although you were willing to share, nobody would ever tell you when they were taking the last bag.

There's nothing quite like the minor inconvenience of reaching into the box for a bag of fruit snacks, and then having it be empty. It really ruins a day.

So, when you went into the kitchen for a bag of fruit snacks, and all of your hiding places were empty, you were perturbed to say the least.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve were sitting around the island, watching as you looked in seemingly random cabinets and containers.

You huffed angrily, moving to check the one of the last spots they could be. It was you're holy grail of hiding places.

You opened the freezer drawer, pulling out a box of plant based burgers. Under that box was a another box, this time of sugar-free, dairy-free, fat-free ice cream bars.

You opened the ice cream bar box, tipping it over to empty the contents onto the counter.

The ice cream slid across the island, but no fruit snacks came out of the box.

You took a deep breath, trying not to scream. You really just needed fruit snacks right now, and there appeared to be none anywhere.

You refused to make eye contact with any of the guys, knowing it would set you off. Instead, you collected the nasty ice cream bars, dumping them into the trash.

ou really wished they tasted good, but apparently they aren't even useful for hiding your good snacks.

The three men all had their eyes on you, waiting for a reaction. You didn't know which one of them found all your fruit snacks, but you weren't going to give them the satisfaction.

If they wanted a prank war, so be it.

With tears in your eyes, you recycled the cardboard box. Then you finally turned to look at them, watching as their expressions quickly shifted into that of concern.

"I'm going to the store, do you need anything?" You stuttered through the question, trying to play up how upset you were. You waited a minute for one or more of them to answer, when nothing came you turned back toward the door.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Bucky called as you reached the door.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"It's just been a tough day. I- It's stupid. I'll see you guys later." You turned around again, walking slightly slower than normal.

Bucky jumped off his chair, running to stop you before you left the kitchen. It must have been his idea to eat all of your fruit snacks. He grabbed your should, spinning you around.

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset. Talk to me, please?"

You waited a beat before pulling him into a long hug. You pretended to cry more, waiting for him to ask what was wrong again.

"Doll, what's got you so upset?" He rubbed your back, unaware of the devious smirk on your face.

You spoke into his chest, leaving your head buried there. "I just, everything is going wrong today. I woke up late, so Tony was annoyed with me. I spent 3 hours trying to fix this piece of tech, only to realize it wasn't working because it wasn't freaking plugged in. I had to rewrite my code for Redwing's updates four times because it kept getting deleted."

You whined as you listed the events of your day. It really was a shitty day, hence the need for fruit snacks.

"Then I dropped my lunch on the floor, so I just ate an apple. I stubbed my toe on the way to training, so it hurt the whole time. I spent ten minutes looking for my phone while I was using it to call someone. I stepped in a puddle, so now my socks are wet."

You took a deep breathe, really laying on the guilt for the last part.

"And when I went to get fruit snacks to cheer myself up, they were all gone."

You hugged him tighter before pulling away, wiping the fake tears from your face.

"So now I'm going to the store. Hopefully nothing else goes wrong because I don't know if I can take it." You leaned your head back, dramatically trying to get the tears to subside.

"Hey, it's okay." Bucky continued to rub your arms, trying to soothe you. "Why don't you go make some tea or something, and I'll go to the store for you?"

You gave him a small, watery smile. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course, Doll. Steve and Sam will come too." He glared at them over your head.

"You guys are the best." You gave them all a hug as they left the kitchen, smirking to yourself once they were gone.

"Y/N, we're back!" Sam called from the elevator, expecting you to still be in the kitchen.

The three men walked down the hall, stopping in their tracks when they saw you.

You were sitting on the couch, fruit snacks in hand, watching a movie with Nat and Wanda.

"What the hell?" Bucky looked between you and the fruit snacks in your hand.

"Where did you even get those?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Well, when the frozen fruit snacks are missing, I know I'm being punked." You smirked at them, laughing with Nat and Wanda.

"So- you..." Bucky trailed off, disbelief clouding his thought process.

"A few waterworks and you three were putty in my hands." You walked toward them, taking the grocery bag with the fruit snacks. "Thanks for the refill." You winked, walking past them into the kitchen.

They stood frozen in shock for a minute, before following you down the hall.

"But how did you know it was us?" Sam asked.

"Why else would the three of you be sitting on the bar stools at the island? You were 100% waiting for a meltdown that I never gave you." You smirked as you hid the bags in different cabinets.

"You never answered my question." Steve stated, still curious about your secret hiding place. "We looked everywhere for hidden fruit snacks."

You placed an arm on Bucky's shoulder as you jumped onto the island counter, unscrewing the top of the chandelier.

"Everywhere?" You questioned as you added a few bags to the compartment before screwing the lid back on. "I've got secret compartments all over the kitchen."

"Then why not just take one of those? Why send us to the store?" Sam asked, still incredulous that you got the three of them this badly.

"Well, I'm assuming you ate all the bags you did find?" You reached out, waiting for Bucky to help you down. He grabbed your waist, slowly lifting you setting you on the floor.

The three of them nodded.

"So I needed more." You shrugged, tossing the now empty box in the recycling as well.

"Was your day really that awful?" Bucky asked in a soft voice, feeling slightly used.

"It was." You smiled at him, moving to hug him again. "Thank you for caring. Honestly, it's really sweet." You kissed him on the cheek before turning to go back to your movie.

You couldn't stop yourself from calling one more thing over your shoulder as you left.

"This was round one boys, and I was only on the defensive. I'd say be prepared, but you'll never see me coming." You winked.

Part 2

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #tony stark #wanda maximoff #marvel #marvel fic #mcu #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

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Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

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wolferine · 3 years ago

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Unforgivable

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, language, death

Word count: 1302

Tags: @yeetus-thyself

AN: New story for hitting 100 followers! You all have been so amazing and supportive, I can’t have asked for better. :)

You can’t stop looking at your hands. Blood dries in every crack and crease on your palms and crusts under your nails where you know it will take forever to scour them clean. Although your adrenaline is wearing off, your fingers continue to tremble like a nerve had been severed. Each of your knuckles is purple with bruises, and you’re missing two nails on your right hand where someone stomped them off.

Your right leg bounces up and down anxiously, causing ripples of pain up your thigh where you had to dig a bullet out. But the pain is a welcome distraction from the awful thoughts running through your head.

Natasha sits across from you, looking just as lost as you feel. She’s dirty and bloody too, and her eyes are unfocused as she stares at the floor. Normally, you two would be all over each other after a mission like that, glad that the other was okay, but you’re both still reeling in shock. Out of all the years you’ve served as an Avenger, you’ve never witnessed something so horrific before.

The Quinjet lands on the top of the Avengers’ Tower and you offer Natasha your hand to help her out. She wraps an arm around your waist and tucks her head against your shoulder, but there is no comfort in her closeness as you angrily limp out. You are fully prepared to murder the man who sent you on this disastrous mission.

As you walk past the medical bay, Natasha tries to stop you.

“Y/N, you need to get checked out,” she begs, tugging on the collar of your uniform.

“I’m fine.” You pull away from her.

“No, you’re not—”

“Let me talk to Stark first, okay?” you say. “Then I’ll come back.”

She sees the hurt and rage in your eyes. She knows why you’ve taken the failure of the mission especially hard, and she’s been with you long enough to know that comfort is not what you need right now. But she still hugs you anyway, pressing her head against your chest.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she whispers.

You stand there with your arms by your sides like a statue. “I don’t know, Nat. I don’t feel okay.”

She pulls back to look up at you. “So, let’s talk about it—”

“After I talk to Stark,” you say again, and she knows there’s no hope in changing your mind.

“I’m going with you,” she announces, reaching for your hand.

“Whatever you want.”

You practically drag her down the hall to the area restricted to Avengers’ access only. Outside, a blonde-haired SHIELD agent walks by and sees your bloodied and torn uniforms.

“Hey, are you two okay—” she asks.

“Stand down,” you order, and take Natasha past the agent. You input your code—Natasha’s birthday—to open the door. Tony is in the kitchen, casually sipping from a mug of coffee when you two enter.

“It’s about time you two came back,” he greets, completely ignoring the state of your uniforms. “Where’s the kid? Did you leave him behind or something?”

Anger swells in your stomach and blocks your throat. You rip your hand out of Natasha’s and charge towards Tony. He always teased you for being nowhere near as intimidating as your girlfriend, but now he’s not making those jokes. Even with a limp, you look ready to tear his head off and he has every reason to believe you might.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” you snarl, stopping in front of him and pointing at his face.

“You had one job, Y/N.” Tony put the coffee down and holds your gaze. “Break into the base and get the kid out, but evidently, I asked for too much because you couldn’t do that—”

“The kid’s dead!” you scream, certain you’ve burst a blood vessel in your eye. “He’s dead because you screwed up the fucking intel!”

Tony says nothing.

“You said the kid was a low-risk, so he wouldn’t have that many guards,” you continue. “So tell me why we were ambushed by a fifty-man army. We barely got out of there ourselves!”

“Y/N!” Natasha yells. She has never seen you so angry before and even though she’s on your side, she doesn’t want you to do or say something you might regret. “You need to calm down.”

But you can’t. You feel like your blood is boiling beneath your skin. You have the death of a completely innocent child on your hands and you feel like there is no way you will ever be able to redeem yourself.

“Okay, okay, maybe I downplayed it a little,” Tony admits. “But you two are fine.”

“Fine? Fine?” you screech. “Do I look fine to you, Stark?” You whip out your gun and Tony taps on his arc reactor, the nanites of his suit spreading across his chest, arms, and legs, shielding his face behind the Iron Man mask within seconds. “We needed you, Stark.” Your voice breaks and your gun trembles as you point it at Tony’s head. “We needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I can’t be everywhere at once,” he argues. “I thought you two could be trusted with a simple task—”

“Y/N, put the gun down.” Natasha grabs onto your arm and forces it down by your side.

“Get off of me.” You use both hands to shove Natasha back so hard she stumbles and falls.

You’ve never been physically aggressive with her before and she doesn’t even know how to react. Whether or not your anger is directed towards Tony doesn’t excuse your action, but you’re still seeing red and don’t even notice what you’ve done.

Natasha’s been punched, stabbed, and shot before, but none of those pains compare to what she feels now. When you asked her to be your girlfriend, you promised that you would always protect her and never hurt her. Your betrayal is like a dagger through her heart.

“Try me one more time, Stark. I dare you.” You aim your gun between the glowing eyes of his mask.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re absolutely pathetic, Y/N, and Romanoff deserves a hundred times better than you. In fact, you shouldn’t even be an Avenger—”

BANG.

You’re so blinded by rage you don’t even realize your finger wrap around the trigger. The bullet bounces harmlessly off Tony’s mask.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward, Stark!” you scream.

BANG. BANG.

Tony raises a hand to deflect bullets off his palm.

BANG.

“Y/N—” Natasha tries to get up but suddenly gasps. Somehow, you hear her over the gunshots and turn to look at her.

One of your bullets ricocheted off Tony’s palm and buried itself into Natasha’s back. She grabs her lower back, mouth dropping in a silent scream, her body arching as she falls back to the floor.

The gun falls from your hand and you race to her side, your mind cleared of anger like a veil lifting from your eyes. You roll Natasha over to press your hand against her back, feeling her blood on your fingers, and prop your knee under her head. “Nat, oh my God—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Even Tony is speechless.

“Y/N…” Natasha gasps, tears in her eyes.

“I’m right here, baby. Oh, God, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” you bumble helplessly.

Natasha reaches for your free hand and holds onto it tightly.

Tony tries coming over, but you stop him.

“Stay back!” you yell, tears running down your face. “Stay the fuck back!”

“Y/N…Please…Let me help,” Tony begs.

You look down at Natasha, barely able to see her face through your own tears. “I’m so sorry, Nat, I’m so sorry…”

“Y/N…” Natasha whispers. “I…I can’t feel my legs…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click here for Part 2!

AN: Hnnn…I wanted to try writing something angstier, but now this kind of sucks.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine

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jadelynlace · 3 years ago

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Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?”

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him.

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper.

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did.

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy.

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day.

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole.

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill.

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair.

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That��s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

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You're Not Broken, Ya Hear Me?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Yondu x Reader, guest starring Peter and other Ravagers

Summary: Based off a prompt from my friend @giulscomix where Reader is coming up on a rite of passage involving having her first sexual experience and is very nervous because she doesn't wish to partake, because she's just not interested in sex at all. (i.e: Reader is Ace or Demi) She opens up to Yondu about it after he finds her hidden away and crying about it and he helps her with her problem, making her realize she isn't broken. Inspired by and using lines from this scene in Netflix's Sex Education series.

Author’s Note: Fic is SFW. Sex is talked about (obviously), but no sexual scenes occur. This also takes place in an AU where Yondu never broke the code (yet still has Peter, make that make sense lol) and therefore was never exiled from the other Ravager clans. Also, this is a long one, probably should have broken it into chapters, but here we go lol

Word Count: 10,189

The nervousness inside you grew with every passing day. You were almost seventeen- you should be happy about this! Not filled with dread about what turning that particular year would mean. You glanced at the calendar from your bed. Only three days left.

There was a rite of passage that every young man had taken before you, and would take long after you. They all whooted for joy when their time came, but you couldn't find the enthusiasm to do so, although you did your best to fake it. And as the day grew closer, the more you had to fake it.

Maybe it was because you were the only female Ravager on Yondu's team? Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe you were just... broken? Why couldn't you just be excited about this like everyone else? That thought made your chest ache as you pulled on your boots.

You didn't want to do it, this stupid rite of passage. No, it wasn't exactly like you'd be forced into a room until you "did the deed," However, you knew to refuse would be to cement your reputation as a lame prude who wouldn't know fun if it crawled up her ass. But still, you really didn't want to.

After all, who would want their first time to just be some random fuck for the sole purpose of "Becoming a man/woman" and an "official part of the crew."? Yes, you wanted more than anything to be accepted, like Peter or the others, but you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved and cared for. Now, this isn't to say that you weren't currently a respected member of the crew, but things were just... different. You knew things would change if the others knew you didn't want to go through with it. You'd be less "one of the guys" and more "the chick with the stick up her butt." You didn't want that.

You stood and took a deep breath, readying your facade before leaving your quarters to make your way down to breakfast.

As always, there were many other Ravagers also making their way from the crew quarters down to the mess hall. And, just how it had started happening the closer it got to that dreaded date, you'd encounter someone looking to congratulate you with a clap on the back, saying things like, "Ayy! How many days is it now? Bet ya can't wait, huh?" or more often, high-fives and fist bumps as your crew mates cheered you on for your upcoming "big day."

You took it all in stride, just like every other day. Big smiles, return the high-five, maybe throw in some finger guns, toss in an affirmative and that you "couldn't wait."

But each time you died just a bit inside. How long could you put on this charade? You knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it. What was going to happen then? What would the rest of the crew say when they found out? Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal for so long, when other guys came of age it was usually forgotten by the others after a few days. However, you were going to come of age the very day of the next scheduled shore leave, which was going to happen in just a few days, and for some reason this just bred excitement among your peers and they wouldn't drop it.

You tried to put these thoughts out of your head as you entered the Mess Hall and got your breakfast.

Today you got to eat in relative peace, the attention being taken up by the story Narblik was telling about his last job on an icy planet and how he hadn't been sure he'd make it back when the blizzard hit. It was when you got up to turn in your tray and leave when a few other's started back up again.

Scrote whooped when he saw you stand, crying out a "Get 'em!" at you and someone else shouted back that you were "Gonna be a man!" until someone shouted back at them "She's a girl!" earning an apology and a correction that you were "Gonna be a woman!" that earned some laughter from the others. You knew the laughter wasn't directed at you, they weren't insulting your looks. Some species on the ship just had a hard time getting genders right because the concept of gender just wasn't a thing on their homeworlds.

You passed Horuz and a young green man named Rahi who high-fived you with an "Ayyy!" as was becoming the custom greeting for anyone wanting to congratulate you on it being almost your big day. You returned the greeting. He had just turned 17 three days before along with another young man he often ran around with, and you heard him talking with some others (There were about 5 or 6 of you all either about to turn the big 17 or who recently had since the last shore leave 3 months ago. It was an abnormally large amount of young people coming of age this time around, which you suspected was further reason why some were making such a bigger deal about this upcoming shore leave.) about being excited for shore leave, as that's when they'd be able to 'become men,' aka, would be able to find a whore to screw. Younger crew often had more of the cleaning jobs aboard the Eclector, and unless assigned with an older crew mate, didn't get to go on many away missions where they could try and woo a willing partner, and even then, Yondu liked quick turnarounds on jobs so there wasn't a whole lot off "goof off" time without being reprimanded. There was no real rule about screwing crew mates either, but most avoided it just in case things got weird after. Easier to just bang someone random on shore leave and then get back to work. No muss no fuss.

Horuz teasingly asked if you had any studs picked out yet and you just laughed and said "Ha, one of these lot? You're joking!" as you put your tray away.

You heard Yondu playfully scold the two from a couple tables over, telling them, "Oh, leave the poor girl alone, yer embarrassin' her!" as he laughed. Horuz just shouted back, "Aw now, I didn't even get to tell her about Oblo here's first time!" This was met with Oblo, who was sitting nearby, choking out a "Hey!" and punching Horuz in the arm.

Kraglin laughed now, "I think she's already heard that one! Let's not ruin anyone's meal now."

You shivered. You had heard the story before. It involved a broken member and many stitches. You weren't looking forward to hearing it again. "I'm out!" you say, looking for a way out of this conversation. "Got work to do." With that you turned and started to leave the mess hall.

"That's what I like to hear!" Yondu laughed from behind you. "Some of you lazy gits should start acting like her, don't wanna work unless yer told to." He knew you were just escaping having to hear the story again, but he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to razz up some of his crew.

You finally make your way out of the mess hall and allow your grin to fall. You run a hand over your face, making your way toward the laundry where you had been assigned to repair one of the machines. You were grateful it was both early in the week as well as early in the day as you entered the room. Most of the crew waited until they were completely out of clean clothes to do their washings, which typically resulted in most of the crew crowding the laundry at the end of the week, so you were sure to have at least an hour or three alone to yourself.

You made your way to the back left-hand corner of the room towards the broken machine. It should be an easy fix, the complaint was that it wasn't draining properly, so you figured it was just a clogged drain hose.

Upon opening up the machine you found you were right. it was just a clog. You retrieved a plumbing snake from a nearby supplies trunk and got to work fishing it out. Unfortunately this menial task gave you enough time to dwell on your problems rather than engaging your brain enough to force them into the back of your mind.

You kept thinking the word "broken" over and over. You couldn't get it out of your head how you couldn't bring yourself to just be excited over something everyone else seemed to love.

Your chest tightened. "Broken.. Loser..." Why couldn't you get over it? Why didn't you have these feelings like all the others?

You latched onto the clog and worked to pull it out. "

Broken..." Why was this so hard? "Broken... Stupid... Wrong..." What was wrong with you? "Stupid... Broken..." Why couldn't you just be like everyone else?!

With that last thought you pulled the clog out with an audible "Pop!" that almost made you fly backwards. You looked at it in disgust and dropped it into the nearby trashcan before re-attaching the hose and sliding down to the floor. No one was going to show up to the laundry this early, might as well take advantage of this time to wallow in your own misery.

That's what you told yourself at least. In truth you could feel tears burning your eyes and didn't want anyone to see you cry. Better to let it happen alone than risk another crew mate seeing you and thinking you were weak.

What you didn't know was that Yondu was also well aware of his Ravager crew's laundry habits, and took advantage of the empty communal laundry room at the beginning of the week to wash his own laundry undisturbed. He made his way down after breakfast, actually having forgotten he had assigned you to fix one of the machines, and was therefore quite surprised to walk in on you sat in the corner crying.

"What d'we have here?" he asked, more puzzled than anything. He never once seen you cry, which now that he thought about it was rather surprising. He saw grown men cry at least twice a week, most of them Peter, but still. He tried to cover up any concern with humor. "Did Halfnut leave his dirty drawers in the machine again? Smell's bad enough to make anyone cry."

You had been startled when he first walked in and you were currently trying to quickly straighten yourself up. "Nothing. Sorry Captain." you said, not looking him in the eye as you bent down to pick up the plumbing snake. "Nearly done here." you say, unable to hide a sniffle.

Yondu plopped his laundry basket on one of the long steel tables running up the middle of the room and sighed, turning to walk towards the door.

You look up in surprise as you heard the lock engage.

He looked at you, arms crossed, and said, "Ya really think I'm gonna buy that? Yer not leaving here until ya spill it. Now what's wrong? Somebody bein' mean to ya? Yer feminine-ly cycle -or whatever it's called- hurtin' ya again?"

You blushed and gave him a sharp look before placing the plumbing snake back where you found it.

Yondu rolled his eyes as he moved his basket over to a machine and tossed his clothes in. "Fine, be that way. But I meant what I said. Ya ain't leavin' til we sort it out. Might as well talk or it's gonna get mighty borin' in here." He turned on the machine and hoisted himself up to sit on the table, patting the space beside him.

You begrudgingly approach, not meeting his eyes, and lifted yourself up to sit down on the table.

"Now what's wrong?" he said again.

You fix your gaze on your lap and sigh. "You're just gonna make fun of me." You say sadly.

Yondu smirks. "Maybe. Still wanna hear it though." Upon seeing your face fall further he elbowed you and said, "I'm jus' kiddin'! What's the long face?"

Your eyes remain down and you quietly say, "I... don't wanna do it."

Yondu raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I don't wanna do it." you repeat.

"Ya dun wanna do... what?" he asks in confusion. He at first assumed maybe you didn't want to do your assigned morning task of fixing the machine, but it seemed like you had already finished it, so he had no idea what you could possibly mean to even begin to be angry for any disobeyed orders. Also, he doubted he found you crying over something as silly as not wanting to fix a washing machine.

"It," you say, "You know, IT." you make a crude gesture with your fingers, forming a circle in one hand with your thumb and index finger and inserting the index finger of your other hand in and out of it, to hopefully get the point across.

Yondu's eyes widen a bit. "Oh!" he says in surprise, before continuing in confusion, "I don't get it? Ya seemed just as excited as could be a bit ago?"

"I've been faking it. Don't want the others to make fun of me."

"Come now! They won't ma-"

He's cut off by you giving him another sharp look. He looks forward again and nods, sighing, "Yeah, yer right. They will."

The two of you were quiet for a couple moments before Yondu awkwardly broke the silence. "Ya mind if I ask why? Like are ya scared or somethin'?" he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, slight concern painting his features.

He remembered his first time. As a battle-slave he didn't exactly see much action; the Kree weren't exactly fond of the idea of their battle-slaves reproducing or having any fun; and by the time Stakar freed him he was in his twenties. It was shortly after when with some other young Ravagers that the subject came up and he admitted he had never done it, only for his mates to excitedly cheer that they were taking him with them on shore leave so he could "become a man." He had been nervous, though he never expressed it out loud, not wanting to appear weak. He knew they meant well, but screwing a random whore just to fit-in and say he had wasn't something he had exactly been looking forward to, however peer pressure had encouraged him to go through with it. It wasn't too bad, he realized, but even knowing that he himself had come to enjoy the act, he always remembered the knot in his stomach leading up to his first time, and hearing you say that you might be scared of doing it made a similar knot form, only higher in his chest and feeling more like... pity? No, that wasn't quite it. Empathy? Yes, that was probably more accurate. Damn sentiment.

"It's not anything like that... it's just... I don't feel anything like that. I'm not even sure I'd know what that feeling is. It's just not there. I'm not scared, or even disgusted, I just feel... nothing."

"I'm not sure I follow..." Yondu said honestly. He supposed you feeling nothing was better than you being scared, but he still didn't quite understand.

"Ok, like, imagine you're surrounded by a feast, with everything you could ever want to eat, but you're not hungry. That's how I feel. I just don't want any of it," you said. Your voice cracked as you continued, "...and it's just so frustrating. Everyone else gets to be normal, while I just don't feel... anything. I don't want to do it-with anyone. When I think about it I feel nothing- it's like I'm broken." You covered your mouth, still not meeting Yondu's gaze as you tried to hold back frustrated tears.

Hearing you say that you thought you were broken tore at Yondu's heart. He wrapped an arm around you tightly and said in a firm voice, "Ya listen here. Yer not broken. I don't wanna hear that again. Look here."

You reluctantly do as he asks.

"Yer not broken," he said again, his face stern. "Sex doesn't make a person whole, so how could ya ever be broken, girl?"

You inhaled sharply as fresh tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn't realized until then that that was exactly what you needed to hear. You quickly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest to hide your tears.

Taken aback at he sudden gesture, Yondu patted you on the back comfortingly and returned the hug. Good thing he locked the door. He doubted that any of his crew would be bothered to wash their clothes this early, but still, it would halt the possibility of new rumors that he was "going soft on the Terrans." He honestly wasn't sure he'd sleep tonight if he had to scold you for crying to save face with his crew right now.

You pulled back almost as soon as you went in, straightening up and quickly wiping your eyes.

"Feel better?"

You nodded.

Yondu sighed, "What to do now..." he said thoughtfully. "Ya know, I never actually liked this whole 'rite of passage' thing, to be fully honest. Crew just gets too wound up. Yer not the first to have reservations 'bout it. Handful of lads have come to me over the years, confiding that they were nervous, but scared of being bullied by the rest of the crew if they didn't go through with it. I suspect there might have been more, but were too scared of lookin' weak to tell their captain. I guess I can understand that."

Surprised by this honesty, you asked, "What did they do?"

"Faked it. They'd go on shore leave, pay a whore to put on a good loud show, yelling and banging on the walls 'n stuff, then lap up the congratulations of the rest of the crew for 'becoming a man.'"

You were further surprised that any of the the crew would have been that open with their captain to admit faking it. "Really?" you ask. "They told you about it after?"

"Who d'ya think told 'em to do it?" Yondu said, huffing a laugh out his nose.

That makes you smile, though you aren't quite sure why. After a moment of thought you say, "If you don't like the whole thing, why don't you stop it?"

Yondu sighed. "I don't think I could if I tried. It's widespread over all 100 Ravager factions. Doubt it do well to tell one faction they couldn't participate. Enough of them look forward to it they'd probably riot." Yondu laughed sardonically. "Not that I haven't thought about trying to steer the culture around it in a different direction. I can tell some of my older crew have the same thoughts, even if they won't admit it."

"How do you know if they never said?" you asked.

"The way they keep passing off horror stories as funny tales to the younger crew. Or did ya miss the story about how Vorker-"

"Nope! Heard it!" you cut him off suddenly. "I remember! I don't need to hear it again, please!" You held up your hands almost as if defending yourself from hearing it again, eyes wide. You most definitely did not need to hear a retelling of the time Vorker caught something very nasty off a girl he met on a job and the details that came with it. There were some rumors that it was how he really lost his eye, but you weren't sure of the truth behind those claims.

Yondu chuckled, patting you on the back. His expression changed when he said. "That's prob'ly what ya should do."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fake it, I mean." he clarified. "Ya should wait til ya want to do it, with someone ya want, if that should ever happen. Not just go through with it to fulfill some dumbass rite of passage." He stared off into the space in front of him. "I can't really see another way to go 'bout it." he admitted. "If I called out for a change among the crew now they'd no doubt see the connection, think I was going soft 'cause yer the only girl here, and then it'd blowback on you. I ain't gonna let that happen." He gave you a look that you understood without him having to explain further. He actually cared about you, in a way similar to how he cared for Peter. He didn't want to see you hurt or bullied over something stupid like this.

You nodded in understanding, returning your gaze to the floor.

"Next shore leave is in a few days. I'll take care of it." Yondu said, his words surprising you.

"What?"

"Consider it a gift." he said, lightly punching you in the arm as he said, "Don't say I never gave ya anythin'."

"I don't understand?" you say, lightly laughing in confusion.

Yondu dramatically rolled his eyes and said, "Guess I gotta spell it out fer ya... I'll arrange for a "fake visit" from a nice whore-bot for ya. It actually costs more for them to fake it, if ya can believe it."

You stared at him, speechless. "I- thank you?" you finally say, blushing. You give him another quick hug.

"Ya, don't get used to it." he replied in his usual gruff fashion when you released him, but you knew better. The old softie.

Just then the machine buzzed, alerting that Yondu's clothes were finished washing. He stood from the table to switch them into a nearby dryer. Once done he turned back to face you. "Well, ya probably got other duties ya need to get to. Better get on 'em."

You smiled, giving him a mock-reluctant, "Yeah," before following him to the door.

You weren't expecting what happened next.

Yondu opened the door and exited, you following out behind. The hallway was no longer empty, and you heard the same young man from earlier, Rahi, call out from a group of two other Ravagers, "Ow Ow! Looks like she finally lost it to the Captain!"

No doubt he thought he was being funny, but he really, really, shouldn't have done that.

Yondu's whistle pierced the air, his arrow quickly finding its way to rest against Rahi's throat. "Ya wanna try that again?" Yondu growled.

Rahi couldn't find any words, just babbled out incoherent nonsense as he nearly shit his pants. The other two Ravagers in the group weren't laughing, just cowering with their friend afraid they'd be next once Yondu finished with him. Other crew mates standing within the hall also stopped to stare in stunned silence.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't run my arrow through ya for speakin' to yer captain like that? Even worse offense for implying I'd screw around with a child." Yondu's eyes were dark and full of rage. Even you were a bit frightened, enough to almost let the child comment slide, and you weren't even the target.

"Dude! He's so old! Ew!" you shout over to the terrified young Ravager, hoping to help the situation by making it clear that nothing like that was ever going to be a thing. And, if you were to be honest, slight payback for Yondu calling you a child.

Yondu whipped his head around to you, and you caught a momentary expression of "You little shit!" before he said, "And don't ya forget it!"

He turned back to Rahi. "I'm waiting." he said, still glowering and crossing his arms expectantly.

Rahi was still busy freaking out. It looked like he was about to cry. He eventually managed to squeak out a, "I'm sorry!" among his pleas for Yondu not to kill him.

Yondu called back his arrow. "That's what I thought. For yer smart mouth you and the other two there are gonna wash the outside of the Eclector, and yer all gonna keep at it until the whole ship's clean." With a smug smile he added. "Guess yer all gonna miss out on shore leave."

This obviously didn't go over well with Rahi's friends, who were now glaring and smacking him at the back of his green head. The next shore leave after the upcoming one wouldn't happen for another 3 months.

"Ya heard me. Git going. And yer still all responsible fer yer other duties too." Yondu added.

The three young men begrudgingly started making their way past when Yondu stopped them again with an, "Ah, Ah, Ah." making them turn back, dreading what else he might have to add.

"I think ya better apologize to this young lady too, for thinking she'd want her first time to be with someone so old." He looked at you pointedly as he said this and you squinted back at him, a nervous giggle escaping your throat as you rubbed the back of your head. Shouldn't have spoke up and called your captain old, now he was going to have to make an example of you as well for mouthing off. "Yer gonna be cleaning out the brig for that one, missy." he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Had to make it look good, after all.

Rahi muttered out an apology before scurrying away with his now very irritated mates, but not before Yondu cried out after him with a, "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." He said this with a thick veil of warning. It was a threat, and one you hadn't expected to hear after the conversation you just had with him.

It was clear that no one else in hallway had expected to hear this from their captain either. Looks of shock were exchanged among the Ravagers in the hallway. Rahi and his buddies' eyes all widened in shock when his words finally sunk in and their scurry turned into a sprint to get away before they could make things even worse. That comment Rahi made had apparently pissed the captain off bad.

"What the rest of ya staring at?" Yondu said, startling the rest of the hallway dwelling crew into motion. "I know ya'll got shit to do, get on it!" He looked at you and cocked his head as if to say "Get moving." and you obeyed, making your way toward the brig to complete your extra cleaning duties.

Yondu did his best to hide a smirk as he made his way down to his quarters. He knew rumors would start spreading like wildfire about Rahi nearly causing Yondu to put an end to the rite of passage after that display. It was bound to piss more than a few of the younger crew off. He didn't care much for the lazy shit anyway, so it was better the crew think he was the reason for any upcoming changes rather than you, and if it succeeded in helping him end the whole culture around that particular thing, even better. They really did get too wound up about it.

***

The morning of shore leave came and you were nervous as hell. Yondu had pulled you aside the night before to let you know he had taken care of what he promised, and described the whore-bot he paid to help you fake it so you would know which one to accept. Still, even knowing it was taken care of you couldn't help the growing pit of nervousness in your stomach, though you did your best to hide it.

Since clearly the Eclector couldn't dock on the planet, being about a mile and a half long and all, Ravagers on shore leave would pool together on M-ships for the journey to and back, kind of like a funny buddy-system.

As per usual, you pooled in a ship with Yondu, Kraglin, and Peter along with Tullk, Oblo, and Horuz. Yondu and Kraglin sat up front to pilot, Tullk, Oblo and Horuz filled in the middle, while you and Peter got put in the back, as always.

While the older men laughed and carried on in front of you, you felt Peter nudge you in the arm. You looked over to see him looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "You ok?" he asked, having noticed how you were unusually quiet and fidgety.

"Yeah, I'm great." you lied, "Never better."

Peter rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. "Don't give me that. Are ya nervous?" he asked, obviously knowing full well what everyone expected you'd be doing on this shore leave. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

You gave him a look, saying, "No!" before coming clean with a, "Fine. A little." as you turned your gaze down into your lap to fidget with your watch some more.

"It'll be ok," he assured, "I was a little nervous my first time, too," he admitted. Peter was a few years older than you at 20, and it was hard for you to picture him having been nervous about it, seeing as he now seemed to be trying to work his way through every cute girl in the galaxy.

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Yeah. I mean, I was still super excited, but I was a little nervous too. Those horror stories the older guys tell us really get to you."

You giggled with him, remembering what Yondu had told you the other day.

Peter continued, "But anyway, you're gonna be fine. But I did want to give you this." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. It was a condom.

"Peter!" you whisper-shouted, blushing.

"Hey, if you're gonna do it, I wanna know you're being smart about it. Always use protection. Even with the Love-bots. Can't ever be too careful." He held his hand out more insistently.

You blushed harder and accepted the gift, even though you knew you wouldn't be needing it. "Thanks."

"Come on now, don't get all frowny on me. I'm just looking out for you." Peter teased, aiming a few pokes at your ribs, knowing it always got a good giggle or two out of you.

It worked. Giggles escaped your throat as you twisted in your seat and swatted at his hand, "Quit it!" you squeaked, but his mission was accomplished anyway, you were smiling now.

"There we go!" he teased, grinning at you.

"Shush!" you replied, sticking your tongue out at your friend and laughing when he flicked you in the arm for it. Soon enough the two of you were in a slap battle. You weren't really fighting, and neither of you struck with the intent to hurt (well, not much anyway) it was just how the two of you played sometimes. This carried on until you heard Yondu announce that you all had made it to your destination, and then the nervousness started to creep back into your belly.

Peter and you were the last off the ship. Yondu and the other men headed off, leaving the two of you to your own devices with calls to behave yourselves, but "not too much" *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

You almost wished he had stuck around longer, but you knew he had already done his part. It would look weird if he stuck around to hold your hand, so to speak. You look to Peter, wanting to stall just a bit longer. "So, ya hungry?"

"Figured you'd want to get right to business," he teased. He knew you were probably stalling, but decided to go along with it anyway rather than abandon you straight away. You had been here before, but he knew this time was different. This time there was a pressure to do something new, and you had already admitted you were nervous about it.

"Uh, can't do it on an empty stomach," you say, forcing a smile.

He ruffled your hair. "Good point. I'm starving." He suggested you two grab some fries at the nearby bar inside the brothel (the whole place was the brothel, let's be honest) and you followed him.

When you both had finished you tried to think of something else to stall, maybe play some pool? However, you never got the chance, for a whore-bot with green hair and looking to be around your age came over to your table to greet you. It was the one Yondu told you to look for, and it asked if it could "show you a good time." You looked nervously at Peter who shot you a thumbs up while trying not to laugh. You glanced back at the bot and tentatively nodded, which Peter took as a sign to high-tail it out of there, leaving you alone. The bot asked for your ID, as you knew it would, and part of you wished you "forgot" it back on the ship, knowing that the bots were programed to refuse service to anyone under the age of 17 and required ID of younger-looking patrons to prove it.

After scanning your ID, the bot took you by the hand and flirtatiously led you across the room to a set of stairs. You began to hear some cheers as you ascended the stairs behind the bot and you were blushing too hard to even attempt to ham it up for their benefit.

Once in the room the bot turned to you. "I understand this isn't meant to be an ordinary engagement. Mr. Udonta left instructions to only perform counterfeit coitus, correct?"

You blushed and nodded, taken aback by the professionalism of the sex-bot, before wondering if you were being rude by assuming otherwise.

"Have you done this before?"

You shook your head, still blushing.

"It's alright. There's plenty of time to figure it out. I've been booked for three hours."

You sputtered. "Excuse me?!" you cried, trying not to be too loud. "Three-? What are we supp-"

The bot gave a laugh and held up its hand. "Do not worry, Miss. I was paid extra to deliver that joke. Mr. Udonta felt it would be very funny. I've only actually been booked for an hour, the standard amount of time."

You let a sigh of relief. You still felt that an hour was going to drag on, but at least it wasn't flarkin' three. "So, what do we do?"

The bot took your hand again and led you to the large bed in the center of the room. "Lie down here." You looked at the bot nervously and it clarified. "The noises will be more realistic if both our weights are on the bed."

You did as the bot instructed and it climbed over you. "I understand this may be awkward, but I'll ask that you trust the process. I will do this," the bot began to rhythmically rock its body back and forth, each rock ending in its hands hitting the headboard and making it knock into the wall behind it. "and then you can start making moaning sounds, you can repeat after me." The bot then started moan, encouraging you with a gesture of its hand when you were too busy blushing to follow the lead. You did your best to mimic the sounds. "We shall continue like this for 10 minutes, and then rest." the bot instructed, ushering you again with more hand gestures when you paused to give it a puzzled look.

After several minutes the bot prompted you to get louder, and then louder again still a few moments after. You realized it was coaching you to simulate you approaching the climax and you got nervous again, not knowing what to do when "that moment" was meant to happen. The bot read your face and told you to relax, just follow it's lead as it thumped against the wall faster and it moaned louder.

You followed its lead until it told you to make a last few loud "Oh's!" and then it began to slow its thumping before coming to a stop.

Whoops and laughter could be heard from the bar outside the door shortly after, and you blushed harder as the bot crawled off of you. "We will now have a few minutes of rest before beginning another simulation."

You sat up. "So we'll just keep repeating like this until the time's up?" you asked.

"Not quite," answered the bot. "We'll change things up a bit, different positions, different sounds, helps to keep it interesting."

"This seems like a lot of work?" you say.

"Yes, well we're paid to put on a show here. Might as well ensure it's convincing," the bot answered with a shrug and a smile.

You winced as you realized you could hear similar noises you had just faked coming from the rooms next to yours and then more whooping and cheering once they, too, stopped. "The walls are kinda thin in here, huh?" you say awkwardly.

The bot smiled sympathetically, "It seems that way, but not really. Only the louder noises make it out. Normal conversation levels are typically left unheard from outside the rooms, so you're clear to speak freely if that was a concern."

"Good to know," you say. You honestly had been a little concerned about that. "So, do we just sit around then?"

"I could give you a massage, if you'd like."

"That... actually sounds really nice. Sure, thank you." You accept the offer, realizing you could use a little stress reliever. "What's your name, by the way?" you ask, feeling a bit guilty for not having asked the bot's name before then and wondering if you should feel silly about that or not.

"You may call me Finn," the bot answered, not seeming fazed in the slightest. "Would you prefer to remove your clothes or leave them on?" The bot- Finn- motioned for you to turn around to give it access to your back.

"Um, clothes on, please?" you say, reaching for your zipper. "But I'll take off my jacket."

"Alright." The bot said, it's tone not caring in the slightest, and you supposed it very likely didn't care one way or another. It went straight to work, starting slow by gathering your hair and pulling it back and up almost as if it were going to tie your hair in a ponytail, but instead of securing an elastic it just repeated this motion a few more times. It was actually very relaxing, and it made you wish you had someone around to play with your hair more often.

With a final gentle tug the bot moved one hand to your forehead while the other worked at the back of your neck, kneading where the nape of your neck met your skull, making you close your eyes and sigh deeply.

To your delight the bot then threaded its fingers through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. A soft hum escapes you as you stopped yourself from leaning into to touch out of shyness, and you almost let out a whine when the scratching stopped. However, you were soon soothed by the bot beginning to knead into your neck and shoulders.

You had just barely stopped yourself from moaning once when the bot then pressed into another spot that made it impossible to not make a sound, though you tried. Finn speaks up. "Let yourself relax fully," the bot encouraged. "It's alright to allow yourself to be noisy here, may even work to your benefit under the circumstances."

You giggled slightly and blushed. Finn was right, after all. If there were any time to just let go and relax it would technically be here and now. Before you could think much further Finn had dragged the knuckles of each thumb up each side of your spine with just the right amount of pressure to coax a genuine moan out of you, surprising you as it happened. You had never really realized before just how much stress your work as a Ravager took out on your back. You began to wonder if these Love-bots were also designed to be professional masseuses, because Finn seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and it was amazing.

Finn ended the massage a bit later by working back up your back and working their fingertips back into your hair for a last bit scalp massage.

You were almost disappointed when it ended, but when it was over you turned to look at the Love-bot. "Thank you, that was really nice." you say.

"Anytime." Finn smiled. "We still have twenty minutes left, shall we begin another simulation?"

You sighed. "I suppose. He paid for an hour, might as well act like I'm using it." You smiled, not feeling quite as bitter about the situation anymore after the massage. Finn really did have magic fingers. Or state of the art massage programing. Probably the latter.

"Indeed." Finn answered. "After all, there are no refunds."

You let out a slight chuckle at the bot's bluntness. "Alright, so what now?"

The next simulation involved you both standing on the edge of the bed with the wall to hold your balance as you bounced slightly up and down to make the bed squeak. The bot encouraged your to make similar noises as before, but to also throw out some curses, like, "Oh! Fuck!" It even did the same, occasionally calling out a "Yes! Right there! Oh, yes!" that made you raise an eyebrow. You had to fight from giggling the whole time at the situation. It was pretty funny after all. You were both jumping on the bed like children.

When that simulation had finished you sat down on the bed and looked at Finn. "Do you guys... er...-bots?... feel anything?" you asked, referring to the language the bot had used earlier. "Or are you just supposed to say stuff like that as an act?"

"We don't have nerve endings, and therefore we don't really 'feel things' like you might, but there are certain sensors that can be activated during a session with a client and prompt a correct response. However, as this session is only a simulation, I suppose you can call my dialogue 'acting.'"

You half-grinned when the realization of the bot's words hit you. "Are you saying... you're like a 'sexy' arcade game?" you say, trying not to giggle, before becoming suddenly afraid that might have been offensive. "I mean- obviously you're not a toy- I mean- I didn't mean to offend you."

The bot chuckled. "There's no need to worry. There are certain similarities, one could see how you might draw that conclusion."

You blushed again and attempted to change the subject. "So... what are we going to do with the last simulation?"

"You have a couple options. We can simulate against the door, or we can simulate bending over the bed. We could also simulate oral, but the noises you made during the massage more or less already worked in its favor."

You blushed at that. You already knew the door was out of the question, as you had an admittedly irrational fear that it might pop open as you were faking the deed. "We can try over the bed."

"Very well. This one will require less movement of you, you may remain seated there." Finn said as they stood up and moved to stand with their legs between your own. "This one may also be a bit awkward," the bot warned, "as it requires thrusting into the bed on my part. Ready?"

You nodded hesitantly and the bot began a steady rhythm of motion against the bed, making it creak.

The bot was right. This was more awkward, and you were grateful when it was finally over with about five minutes to spare.

You stood from bed and grabbed your jacket. "Thanks. This wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." you said truthfully. In fact, you really almost thought you'd come back if for no other reason than to get another back rub.

"You still have five more minutes, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

You smiled shyly and said, "Well, I won't argue if you play with my hair again..."

***

You were of course greeted with congratulatory cheers and high-fives when you exited the room along with the other few crew mates who had recently come of age... and had still been allowed to attend shore leave that is. R.I.P Rahi and his friends. (They hadn't died, but you can bet they were probably really regretting pissing Yondu off.)

A few fellow Ravagers bought you some congratulatory drinks and the rest of the night seemed to fly by.

Eventually you caught back up with Peter and shortly after that Yondu announced it was time to head back, which of course received some disappointed grumbling among the crew. However, nobody argued, knowing it might cost them their next shore leave if they got "fussy like toddlers" as Yondu would say.

You and Peter got back to the ship to find Tullk and Oblo already there waiting. Horuz showed up just after and sighed to see Yondu and Kraglin weren't there yet. Yondu and Kraglin were the only ones with keys to Yondu's M-ship, so you all had to stand outside and converse among yourselves as he took his sweet time getting there.

He was probably just paying the Sneeper woman who owned the place and would be there any minute, but 'any minute' still felt like forever when it was cold.

Eventually he and Kraglin did show up and unlock the ship so you could all get in.

Once inside the ship and mostly everyone had strapped in Kraglin called back to you from the co-pilots seat with tipsy laughter in his voice. "So d'ya have fun? Feel any different? Any horror stories to add to the list?" He looked teasingly at Oblo and Oblo flipped him the bird.

Yondu swatted at him, saying, "Aw, leave the girl alone," but there was also laughter in his scolding, so he wasn't that serious.

You answered anyway. "Ya. Had a blast, Kraglin. Smooth sailing. Just a little sleepy."

This made the other men chuckle, though you weren't entirely sure why, although you could guess.

Yondu piped up. "If she falls asleep Quill's gotta carry her in."

Peter scoffed with a laugh. "Why do I gotta?" he said, before turning to you to add. "You better not fall asleep then."

"Well if you fall asleep I ain't carrying you in! Probably break my back if I tried. You can just stay sleeping in the ship." you laughed back.

"Why you little!" Peter cried out with a grin, aiming to poke you in the ribs, but you dodged him, returning a swat of your own to his arm. And, like on the way over, the two of you were engrossed in another slap battle. The others just let you two carry on, busy with their own conversations and laughing amongst themselves.

Eventually you and Peter did tire yourselves out and Yondu chuckled to the other men when after docking the ship he noticed you had both fallen asleep, curled up in your respective seats. Oblo snapped a picture, cooing, "Aw look! Ain't that precious!"

"Send that to me." Yondu said with a grin. "Might blow it up, hang it in the Mess Hall." This earned a laugh from the others. He looked at Tullk with a grin before exiting the ship. "Ya better wake 'em. I'm sure as hell not carryin' them to bed."

***

The next morning Yondu was alone in his quarters when he decided to call up Stakar.

After a few rings Stakar's face comes up on the screen, and the two men give a Ravager salute in greeting before Stakar asks what's brought Yondu to call him.

"I wanna talk to ya about that whole coming of age and having sex thing."

Stakar raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Younger crew just get too wound up about it. It ain't healthy." Yondu responded.

Stakar still looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ya know what I mean." Yondu said firmly. "They get all wound up like it's the most important thing in the world, and it's because everyone makes a big old deal outta something silly like that."

"It hasn't been a problem before?" Stakar said thoughtfully. "What's changed? It's that Terran girl isn't it? Of course. She just came of age." Stakar shook his head. "I don't care what you say, you're soft on her and Peter. You can't get attached and let them influence your judgement like that, Yondu."

"No, it ain't like that," Yondu said, trying to cover his ass and continuing before Stakar can interrupt him. "It's got nothin' to do with them. I just can't have my crew bullying their mates just cause they don't wanna fuck yet or lettin' the whole thing get to their heads makin' them all disrespectful-like. Almost had to keel-haul a few boys who suddenly thought they were big enough to start disrespecting their captain over it."

Stakar looked at him suspiciously. "No, we can't have that... What do you propose then? It's not like we can stop them. You tell young people they can't do something, they're only gonna do it more."

"I know that- Look. I'm not sayin' we do away with it entirely. I could care less what they do on shore-leave. But we can maybe make them realize it's not such a big damn deal. Ya know, slow-like. Maybe they'd stop getting so wound-up about it." Yondu said, quickly adding, "If they're less focused on that maybe they'd work harder."

Stakar thought for a bit. Yondu was right, he thought. He had noticed the younger crowd getting a bit wound up about it, and sometimes they did let the excitement get ahead of their duties... "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "If it's affecting their jobs maybe we should try and change the culture around it... I'll talk with some of the other captains and get back to you."

Yondu grinned and nodded. "All I ask."

***

You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was the day after shore-leave and no one had brought up how you "Became a woman" at all. It was as if the previous week's excitement had been completely forgotten, and you couldn't be happier.

You did notice in the following days that Rahi seemed to be getting a bit of flack. He hadn't been particularly well liked before, always trying to push his duties off on other crew mates or blaming others for things he had broken, but now he was practically a pariah. Even his buddies didn't seem to want much to do with him, though that could be because they were still mad that they had been dragged under into his punishment despite not having done anything to deserve it other than be with him at the time.

You almost felt bad for him until Peter explained that along with the 'written' rule that Ravagers don't deal in kids; harming or forming inappropriate relationships with children and teens (i.e: having sexual relations with younger crew) was also a HUGE no-no. Even worse if the offender is someone high-ranking. Rahi, though he just thought he was being funny, had more or less unwittingly falsely accused Yondu of breaking that part of the code with the joke he made, hence why Yondu had been so offended and pissed. Peter was honestly surprised Yondu had let him live after that.

He also added that no one wants to be around someone who thinks it's funny to make those particular jokes. Real accusations of that nature are taken very seriously among Ravager Clans, so if someone is found to just be flippantly saying crap like that, the general feel is that it makes it harder for real victims to be heard, so the crew will tend to shun the offender to make it clear that behavior isn't acceptable. And well, if the offender didn't learn their lesson pretty quick and get back into the good graces of their captain and crew, they'd quickly find themselves to be cannon fodder.

Even Ravagers know there's a line between raunchy and unacceptable.

There may have also been the matter that when Yondu had said "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." much of the crew, after the rumor had gotten twisted up a bit via game of telephone, had taken it to mean that Rahi had almost gotten shore-leave taken away from everyone- forever. And well, that just didn't sit right with a lot of folks. It was a final nail in the coffin, if you will.

However, what you didn't know was about Yondu's conversation with Stakar.

Stakar did go talk to the other captains, and more than a few did finally admit similar instances among their younger ranks after having heard through the grapevines about a giant stink a lad called Rahi had caused on Udonta's ship. They admitted to instances of bullying, pressure, and disrespect occurring and directly related to the particular rite of passage and collectively agreed with Yondu that a change surrounding the culture could be beneficial, much to Yondu's surprise, and also his relief.

He never did tell you about his conversation with Stakar, though he was sure you may start to suspect if everything went well and things started changing regarding that particular aspect of life. As long as no one else had to feel like he saw you feeling that night in the laundry, he'd be happy.

You had come to his quarters the day after the visit to Contraxia, knocking almost as soon as he had hung up with Stakar. You had wanted to thank him him for helping you, both with the advice and with the Love-Bot. You told him how you felt so much better after having that talk with him, and how you no longer felt broken.

He'd never say, because screw sentiment, but it warmed his heart to know he helped you realize there was nothing wrong with you, that you had never been damaged. You two parted with a hug and he let you know to not be afraid if you needed to come to him about stuff like that in the future, just not to make a habit of telling the others lest they accuse him of going soft.

You were his little girl, something else he never intended to say out loud, because again, screw sentiment. He felt a responsibility for your well-being, even if you could be a little shit like Peter sometimes.

Ah, fuck sentiment. He knew you two were his kids, and he was damn proud.

***

About a week after shore leave you and Peter happened across Yondu outside the Mess Hall doors as you were heading in for supper.

"Hey, look! It's Terran One and Terran two!" Yondu said, oddly loudly.

"Um, hi?" You gave him an odd look. "What's up?"

"Now why would ya think somethin's up? Can't a captain greet his crew outside the Mess Hall before dinner?"

'Something's definitely up.' you thought, sharing a glance with Peter who was clearly thinking the same thing. "Are we in trouble? Did we do something?" Peter chuckled nervously. He didn't know about you, but he had maybe definitely rigged a supply closet in the control room with some firecrackers, and he wasn't sure if some poor soul (probably Kraglin) had already fell victim to it, meaning he was about to be in hot water.

You were also grinning nervously. You didn't know about Peter's firecrackers, but you had also maybe definitely hidden some poppers under the cushion of Yondu's desk chair that morning when he was busy on the other side of the ship, but you weren't going to just turn yourself in without more information, now were you?

"I dunno, you tell me." Yondu said, smirking. "Are you in trouble? Ya'll got a guilty conscience?"

You and Peter shared a nervous glance. You both knew you both were most definitely guilty of something, however you two had a code. Never turn yourself in, and never turn your buddy in. You looked back at Yondu, suppressing a nervous giggle. "No? I don't think so?"

Kraglin then came outside the Mess Hall doors to stand with Yondu. Kraglin had a big shit eating grin on his face, almost as if he were trying not to laugh when he saw you and Peter there.

Yondu threw him a glance which Kraglin returned with a nod. You noticed this and you exchanged another look with Peter. Something was definitely up. This felt like a trap.

"Well, what're ya waiting for? Get in there and grab some supper!" Yondu ordered, grinning strangely. He opened the door for you- oh shit something was absolutely up here.

You and Peter eyed him suspiciously but obeyed, entering the Mess hall without a word.

Once inside you noticed the rest of the crew inside were all oddly quiet, all staring at the two of you with grins and some suppressing giggles behind their hands. You heard the doors shut behind you and turned to see Yondu and Kraglin standing in front of them, both donning the biggest shit eating grins of all time.

"Cap'n has a surprise for you guys, d'ya- do ya like it?" Kraglin asked, trying to suppress his own giggles.

You heard Peter exclaim a, "Oh hell no!" and you turned to see what had caught his attention, noticing the crew had finally broke out into loud raucous laughter around you.

Hanging high on the wall about 10 feet to the right of the Mess Hall entrance doors was a humongous blown up photo of you and Peter. It was the photo you guys didn't know Oblo had snapped when you returned from Contraxia. It showed the two of you each curled up asleep in your respective seats of Yondu's M-ship. Peter was sucking his thumb. You were cuddling one of Yondu's softer dash toys.

You both paled as you stared up at the giant poster hung high on the wall. Hung conveniently high enough that neither of you would be able to reach it to rip it down, although Peter made a few good attempts.

Your eyes narrowed at your captain as he approached you, his laughter matching that of the crew. He pulled you towards him and ruffled your hair as he asked. "What's the matter? Ya don't like yer surprise?"

You glared up at him as Peter was now climbing up on a chair in a vain attempt to reach and pull the photo down. "This so means war, blue man!"

"Don't pick fights ya can't win, pipsqueak." Yondu laughed. "Consider this payback for those poppers in my chair, and ya can tell Peter this is for those firecrackers in the supply closet."

You sighed and punched him in the arm, but he only laughed and pulled you in close to ruffle your hair again, "Oh lighten up! Ya don't really expect me to just let my kids have all the fun, huh?"

You jerked your head towards him with a surprised expression, and it seemed it was only then he realized what he had said. Grateful that no one else would have heard it over his noisy crew he attempted to backtrack. "Uh, don't read too much into it." he said, clapping you on the back and announcing to Kraglin that he was going to grab some food. Kraglin, who was busy laughing at Peter, who had seemingly given up his attempts to rip down the photo in favor of walking dejectedly back over to you, nodded and joined his Captain in obtaining some supper.

Peter and you turned to face the photo again, the laughter from the crew still not having died down. Peter spoke first. "This means war, right?"

"Definitely. I had already set up a dye pack in Yondu's shower earlier. He'll be a weird shade of purple by morning," you affirmed with a grin.

"Nice. We gotta get one on Kraglin too."

"Absolutely," you reply. "After supper?"

"Yeah. After supper." Peter agreed.

The two of you made your way to get your supper, ignoring the laughs and teases of the other Ravagers along the way and discussing further options of getting Yondu and Kraglin back for this.

He may be like a father to you two, but that didn't mean he'd get off easy.

#gotg #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #yondu x reader #long fanfiction #yondu udonta #x reader #reader is a ravager #papa!yondu #daddy!yondu #peter quill #peter quill x reader #yondu udonta x reader #kraglin #ace #demi #ace!reader #demi!reader #sfw

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