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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder. Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse. It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback. Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room. Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly. "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them. But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to. Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley. "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability. My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please. Treat it like a normal arm. And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different. Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly. “However much you think I can handle, double it. I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that. You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh." That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene? “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight. Red means stop. Yellow means proceed with caution. Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact. I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely. And then there’s ‘blue.’ That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far. “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright? I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded. “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed. “I’m not charging you for this part. We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed. “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it. “And what is it that you’re looking forward to? What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you. “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes. Strongest you have. I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time? He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles? Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question. “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit. “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try. Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed. “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that. He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard. And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward. “How do you feel about ‘pet’?”

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again. “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile. He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like? Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment. “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred. “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’. Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually. Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore. He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting. Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm. It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right? It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently. It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to. More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel? Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath. You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling. You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly. He shook his head. "Are you ready?"

He nodded. You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him. Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut. When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura. “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could. He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly. “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away. “Baby, please—”

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine. “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?”

“Around… my cock. Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft. His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that. Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you. "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant. He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock.

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you. "How does it feel, baby?"

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr. He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing. "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure. You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing. Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot. The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch. And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more. How could you say no?

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me? Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth. “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be. Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer. His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you. It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit. He winced as you sighed contentedly. "Fuck, it feels good. Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled. "I just wanna come with your cock inside me. I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy? Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls. Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself. He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod. "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?"

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle. Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment. "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince. "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly. He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open. For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for. You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you. "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back? That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy. He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded. "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting. He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock. The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur. “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after. You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes. But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss. He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest. “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect. It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken. Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers. Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise. As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits. You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes. “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted. “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick. And my brain is all fuzzy…”

You smiled. “Can’t help the first one. Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly. “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled. “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move. He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle. "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience. You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience. I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace. "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question. "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him. "It looks pretty luscious. I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face. His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something. How long had he been single? With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards. He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him. And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax? Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this. And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader

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harfanfare · 3 years

Text

How to win a heart of Floyd Leech?

a/n: Someone requested this; ask got deleted by accident! Hope you will like it, Anon!

Warning!

Once you start walking through the specific points of the guide, your life will be exposed to the presence of Floyd Leech. Interrupting the action at one of the stages may cause many problems; F. Leech categorizes stopping as "boring", which puts the user of this guide in great danger.

The only way out is to get to the very end. Or not to start at all.

You act at your own risk.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎

1. Be an easy new target.

To one’s surprise, it is much harder not to catch his attention.

You can easily become another entertaining target of Floyd, mostly by doing silly things or him just considering them as ones.

And to automatically get labelled as “silly”, you just need to fall into one of his traps—he prepares them for someone else, maybe for goldfish, maybe for another person given a sea-inspired nickname, expecting to enjoy watching how familiar face twitches with terror as he jumps into the scene and tightly embraces passing student.

But no. You were the one who showed up in the wrong place and time as Floyd jumped out from his hideout, scaring you half to death. With a strangled yelp, you sharply backed away. After gaining a slight flush on your cheeks, you recognised who you just bumped into and quietly gasped.

However, he was much more bewildered than you were.

He had never encountered somebody who wouldn’t just freeze under his touch. Jumping away, gasping, muttering half-hearted apologies and flushing? That’s new.

That’s also entertaining.

Even after your quickly disappearance from the scene, his gaze somehow inexplicably started returning to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Visit Mostro Lounge often.

“We’re looking for someone who would like to work part-time for Azul~” Floyd said, sliding poster across the table. He popped up in front of you unannounced, having your thoughts return to dark reality.

“Oh,” you replied quietly, packing your things faster. “Good luck with it.”

You got up from your seat, but the thought of letting you go just like that didn’t even cross Floyd’s mind.

“Ehh? Shrimpy, aren’t you going to try?” he asked, frowning. You winced a little at the nickname he called you, not sure how to feel about it. “You know, you won’t work there for free.”

Azul will grant your wish.

You fidgeted a little, questioning your response. You heard—who didn’t?—rumours that Octavinelle leader could fulfil any request for a certain price. Ones were working for it, others were paying, and lasts were trading their request with Azul’s one.

The thought of having anything just by working in some café made you consider the offer again—this time quickier.

“I will go,” you decided.

“Hooray!” Floyd smiled cheerfully, just as if he won some grand prize in the lottery. “But what could Shrimpy possibly wish for, to change your response so drastically~?” he wondered but didn’t get any answer in return.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be honest.

“Shrimpy...”

You passed Floyd, without sparing him a look. Anyone who has known you for a while would notice that your movements were a bit stiff and creaky.

Once you heard Floyd’s voice, a wave of tiredness struck you as if you didn’t get any sleep last night after working your shift in Mostro Lounge.

There were so many people to serve, so many things to do... and yet, you couldn’t help with anything, still not knowing how everything works, messing up with orders and breaking some plates in process.

Floyd buzzing around you, asking you some random questions (“Shrimpy, have you done it before?”). You answered them quickly, but each of them bumped you out of rhythm, making you forget what you were doing. It also didn’t help that Floyd certainly liked you being disoriented, replying with a shrug and grin on his face at your thundering glances.

So now, after gaining a little trauma from working in Octavinelle’s café, all you could do is ignore Floyd’s presence, silently accusing him of your infamous fiasco.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” he called you again, catching you up. “Are you mad?”

“I am not mad,” you snapped and took an unstable breath. “Look, I just started working, and on my first day I made already so many mistakes—”

“Yeah,” he replied indifferently. “And what with that?”

“...I couldn’t even correctly serve drinks—”

“Oh, stop!” Floyd muffled your mouth with his hand, an annoying look on his face. “I know where it is going. And no, you can’t quit a job, after all my efforts to get you there. It will get boring again!”

“But—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” he corrected his hand on your mouth, now not letting even a sound get through his fingers. “Azul knows that you tried your best. And for these plates you broke, he already added them to your paycheck. You need to practice! Not to give up, Shrimpy!”

You looked up at him, quite stunned by these words. Perhaps he quoted someone from the book or heard someone talking like that...

But it was encouraging. In some way, considering that you couldn’t protest, having your mouth covered. But still, it was encouraging.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Take classes together.

You can have the power of controlling Floyd’s behaviour, making other students’ life easier. Or you two can be a walking disaster.

Turning alchemy lesson into putting random ingredients into a boiler and praying that the mysterious mixture won’t explode.

History classes started being a regular pinching ritual to keep yourself from falling asleep (you are being pinched more, even when you don’t feel sleepy).

In contrast, flying lessons are peaceful. Nor Jade, nor Floyd, nor Azul are fond of these classes. Floyd is much eager to stand both feet on the ground, watching you practice or having you sulking next to him about heights.

However, if you are a calm, shy, or tranquil person, exchanging little notes or drawings will be a little habit of yours. Handing them discreetly under the eye of sir Crewel is quite a challenge, but it also gives satisfaction once the note was given.

Floyd throws away most of your paper conversations, but the ones he really likes, he cherishes them by keeping them with him, stuffed in his pockets. He will be irritated if anyone would like to see what you two were writing about, even if the talk was about new strawberries delivery for the new recipe.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Being ticklish or not.

There are two possible scenarios, whether his new, lovely target is ticklish or not.

If is: prepare for being touched a lot. Observing how you quiver with surprise, when he lightly—he especially makes his touch less fierce, knowing very well that tickling isn’t violent—wraps his hands around your waist, making you hold your breath.

He would tickle you a lot, very often making you cry out of laugh and pain that follows sharp writhing and fidgeting, but never that much, to seriously upset you. That’s some luck in such unlucky situation.

If not: he will try to find other weak point. Or will try to make you ticklish—his hands are particularly cold and pressing them to your warm skin, might make you give him a reaction he would enjoy.

Albeit, if you also won’t return any expression even then, he will seriously search for some other weakness. Slightly biting an ear lobe, whispering next to your ear or anything that could make his smile appear, once he made you put him somewhere between “I despise you with each and every cell” and abstract mumbling with the heat on your checks.

Oh, he loves your reactions so much.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Learn all nicknames he gave other people (you will unlock an option to slightly dish other people).

“Oh Lord...” you muttered to yourself, as your gaze followed scribbled list of names that Jade just passed to you. He willingly connected all student’s names with pseudonyms Floyd gave other people and handed the roaster over to you once you helped him with some kitchen cleaning.

“There are so many, right?” Jade replied with a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure you already memorised some of them, being around Floyd that much.”

You nodded mindlessly as you tried to get names into your head. You mouthed them soundlessly one by one, motivated to learn them by the end of the week.

The chuckle that escaped Jade’s lips startled you, and you realised that he still was in the room. Or that you didn’t leave the Lounge even after your shift has already ended.

“My brother surely didn’t exaggerate anything about you,” he said, his tone a bit more buoyant than ever, although you couldn’t be sure as the thick air of mystery still echoed in his voice. “I wonder how it will finally end?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Always share your takoyaki with him.

“What are you hiding, Shrimpy?”

You shuddered at a voice that you did not want to hear at this moment, not for all the world. Unless that the world included a chest filled with takoyaki, which you could give to certain somebody.

You felt that instead of a shashlik of tasty balls, you were holding a knife in your hands, a veritable proof of a crime you had committed. It weighed heavily in your grip, and Floyd's approaching footsteps did not make your situation any better.

It was a time to hide the evidence.

You pushed as much as you could into your mouth and swallowed a few balls without even gnawing them much. You almost choked on them.

“Me? I?” you asked innocently. You sincerely hoped that no sauce or a stray piece of cake was left on your face. “What could I possibly hide?”

"Hmm, hmm~," he drew closer, and you needed all your will gathered, to make yourself stay where you were. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew you were all pale on the face. “With my little eye, I spy something...”

His gaze went down, just to your hands, which you tried to hide behind your back.

Not giving him a clear look at your palms or wooden stick, you turned around on the heel and run with all your might. Your muscles felt somehow stiff as if they also didn’t see a chance to win this race.

Now Floyd was sure you are hiding something, and there is no chance he’ll let it go.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Watch him at his basketball practice.

81:30 for the blue team!

“Floyd once again started playing wild,” Ace breathed with clear regret in his voice. He glanced your way, frowning at you. “It’s your fault. Please come at practices when Floyd is in my team, not otherwise.”

You laughed awkwardly as he walked away.

A moment later, Floyd reached for a bottle with water and a towel you bravely guarded through the whole practice. He smiled wholeheartedly, happy with the win, water, and your presence.

“How did you like the game?” he asked once he changed from PE clothes and you two started heading towards Octavinelle.

“It was really fun!” you admitted, a speck of amusement appeared in Floyd’s eyes. “The red team didn’t have much time to capture a ball before you got hold of it again.”

“Hehe~ I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I really like to play basketball, even more than ever, when I know that you are watching! That’s why,” he added, sincerity well-heard in his voice, “you need to come even more often!”

You nodded happily.

You just couldn’t mind it, all that accompanying him.

It was... fun.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Dance, dance, dance!

Heels tapped on the floor and the sound of these steps would probably have spread through the room, if not for the jazz music pounding through Mostro Lounge’s speakers.

Floyd pulled you closer, letting a playful smile on his lips stretch even more. You couldn’t help but smile back, before gasping as he spun you around your axis. You lost balance and would fall if not steady grip around your waist, as Floyd leaned on closer to you, making you bend on one leg more and entirely rely on his touch.

Last notes of melody faded, and you still were in that pose, facing each other. With each second, Floyd’s face was changing from some form of amazement to amusement, finally letting you properly stand.

“Ha... When did you learn to dance so smoothly?” you asked smiling in wonder.

“Hehe~ With legs you can dance a lot more than in the sea,” he answered. “On land, it’s super fun~”

You nodded at his words.

Floyd was a wonderful dancer.

But you can’t be sure if being a good dancing partner is the only thing that made you feel all warm and fuzzy because butterflies still didn’t leave your stomach.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. “Let’s do something fun!”

“Here is your paycheck,” Azul handed you a white envelope, sealed with a stamp with the Octavinelle logo. “And you, [Name], was also working for some request, right?”

You nodded as you stared at the envelope.

Somehow, knowing how stupid the lingering thought in your mind was, you couldn’t bear to look up. If you would, your gaze would probably ignore all the elegant furniture of the room, even the owner of the room, Azul, just to settle on Floyd.

If you saw anything more than his shoes, that stupid thought would make their way outside, turning plans into action.

And Floyd unknowingly did everything to make them come true.

“Shrimpy,” he cupped your face with his hands, judging by his voice he seemed quite... worried? When he made you look in his olive and gold eyes, you started holding your breath. “Are you okay?”

With that question, your strong will to wish for something expensive or practical was broken.

You started fidgeting more, not knowing how to express your thoughts in words. “I think I have a request... a question for Floyd, rather than for you, Azul...”

Azul nodded at first uncertain and the room has fallen into silence once again until you spoke.

“Well, Floyd,” you turned to him, trying your best not to wander your gaze away from him, “Please, take your time with answering, but I want your response to be, uh, honest.”

You were tripping onto your own words, embarrassment soaring in your body as you started to think that you should’ve kept quiet. But Floyd was patient with your answer, as well as Jade and Azul who observed the situation as if they predicted it before.

“I mean- Okay, just answer the question.” You took an erratic breath. “Would you like to—”

“Sure!” Floyd interrupted you before even hearing the whole question. “I would like to do everything with you.”

You stood there, all confused. But, by Floyd’s expression you knew that he guessed what you wanted to say. Face heating up, you forgot about Azul and Jade, who hid a chuckle by turning his head to the side.

“How fun,” he said as Floyd wrapped his arms around you, as if shielding you from other people in the room.

“I won’t share Shrimpy with you, Jade. Not a chance.”

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd #twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst floyd #twst floyd x reader #anonymous

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

hi 💛 i know this may be out of character for post-finale, but i was wondering if you could write a bit of angst (with happy ending of course) where mickey becomes more withdrawn from the gallagher fam cause he doesn’t feel like he really belongs (thinking of lip during the “mickey’s not family” kitchen scene and mickey&lip’s fight) - maybe mick is staying back at their westside apartment more often, not attending family events, only feels comfortable around ian, etc. - eventually ian catches on, they talk, and he makes it better 🥰

This went a little different and it's ooc for the other Gallaghers, but I think it still hits the general vibe so I just went with it.

---

The wake of Frank Gallagher’s death was filled with uncertainty. For the present, the future, the family. For Ian. Because for all Ian said he wouldn’t care when Frank died, for all he said he was done caring for, mourning for a man that used him, threw him aside…

When it came down to it, Ian was still a Gallagher. And Gallaghers didn’t let each other go that easily.

Mickey wasn’t a Gallagher. He never had been. And he had never felt that difference more strongly than now, standing behind the counter in the Gallagher family kitchen, feeling like an eavesdropper as he listened to them plan.

Plan for a wake no one wanted, a remembrance no one asked for. Plan out Frank’s goodbye while the man himself sat in ashes on the mantelpiece.

Ian looked tired sitting on the opposite side of the room, facing Mickey. His face was drawn, his eyes squinted thin and surrounded by red, and his mouth twisted as he argued with Lip over how much of the money from selling the house should go toward completely unnecessary arrangements.

“I’m just saying,” Ian said plainly, “that we don’t need to do anything fancy. There’s nothing wrong with a cheap party at the Alibi.”

“Party,” Lip snorted. “Don’t think this is the kind of thing we’re supposed to celebrate.”

“Why the fuck not?” Mickey couldn’t help himself from chiming in. “Frank was an asshole, and nobody cared when he was dyin’ on the goddamn sofa.”

It was true enough. They had all been rather unbothered by his imminent demise until they got the call, a few words over a tinny phone connection enough to suddenly make it real. To make it important.

“No matter how much we hated him, he was still our dad, Mickey,” Lip argued, wiping a hand over his face. He eyed the drink Carl held hungrily before taking a slow sip of his own cola, adding, “Not all of us can just leave family to fuckin’ rot.”

And that hurt. Felt like a fucking kick in the chest, over a heart already bruised. He could see Ian watching him, though, and his husband had enough to deal with without getting into Mickey’s shit again.

“He’s already cremated,” Mickey pointed out, putting on an unconcerned face for Ian’s benefit. “Nothing left to rot, man.”

“Well we can’t just do nothing,” Debbie said, for once on Lip’s side. “I mean yeah, he was a shitty dad, but it’s not like he was Terry.”

“Not a high bar,” Mickey countered. “Think he deserves some kind of parade just cause he didn’t try and kill any of ya on purpose?”

A brief moment, just one, as that went through the room. Then:

“Mickey,” Lip sighed, “just let us deal with this, yeah? This is kind of a—”

“Family only thing,” Mickey interrupted bitterly, repeating words that Lip had thrown around one too many times. “Yeah, I figured.”

Ian offered an apologetic look from across the table, but didn’t argue for him. Not like last time, when his first thought had been to defend Mickey’s place.

Mickey took the hint.

“I’ll be out back,” Mickey said shortly, directed at Ian, and marched toward the door. “You know, whenever fucking family time is over.”

“Mickey…” Ian called after him, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t follow. And as Mickey left, he could vaguely hear Ian making apologies.

So he didn’t stop when he went down the steps. And he didn’t stop at the gate. He didn’t stop at the sidewalk, or the street, or the edge of the neighborhood.

If he wasn’t fuckin’ family, he didn’t need to be at the family home. So he went to his new one instead.

---

“Mickey?” Ian called out as he entered the apartment, hours later. “Mickey, are you here?”

Mickey didn’t answer. Ian found him anyway.

“There you are,” he said with a sigh as he came into the living room, where Mickey lay sprawled over the sofa. He stopped at Mickey’s side, towering over him.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Ian complained, looking to the device Mickey held with both hands. “Why did you leave?”

“Why do you think?” Mickey answered. “Wasn’t exactly welcome.”

Ian had the grace to look chagrined.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “You know how Lip gets…”

“Stupid?” Mickey said, and Ian shrugged.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of.”

Mickey went back to playing on his phone, leaving Ian standing awkwardly at his side.

“I told them I’d come back once I found you,” Ian told him abruptly. “You should come with me.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes on his game.

“Will you come?” Ian pressed, and Mickey dropped his phone with a sigh.

“They don’t want me there,” he answered. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, and Ian caught it, pulled it away.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, voice earnest, his thumb tracing circles on Mickey’s wrist.

“Dunno,” Mickey lied, then caved immediately. “It’s a family thing,” he said. “And I ain’t family.”

“You’re my family,” Ian countered, but Mickey shook his head, pulling his hand free.

That wasn’t enough.

They were quiet, for a moment, and Mickey was about to give up and pick up his phone again when Ian broke the silence.

“You’re more family than Frank was, if you think about it,” he said suddenly. “Definitely more of a Gallagher, if you only count the good bits.”

“It’s cheating to only count the good parts of me,” Mickey argued, feeling bitter, and Ian knocked his shoulder with his hand.

“Meant only the good bits of being a Gallagher, Mick,” he corrected, rolling his eyes before they settled, soft, on Mickey’s face. “Stuff like being there, taking care of each other. Sticking together when things get rough.”

“Don’t think your brother agrees,” Mickey said flatly, then winced as Ian sat down hard on his outstretched legs.

“My brother,” Ian started, “is an idiot.”

Well, Mickey wasn’t going to argue with that.

“But believe it or not,” Ian continued, “he does think of you as family.” Mickey tried to cut in, but Ian glared at him until he closed his mouth, settling back against the arm of the sofa.

“You know what I heard him telling somebody the other day?” Ian asked. Not waiting for a reply, he said, “that if they had any trouble, he’d sic his brother-in-law on them.”

“Don’t think using me as a threat counts as me being part of the family,” Mickey grumbled, but Ian shook his head.

“Wasn’t a threat,” he explained. “He was offering your services. Cause you’re part of the family, now, and he knows you would help him.”

He would. Of course he would. Without a second thought, even for his least favorite in-law, even at risk for himself. But it was a surprise to hear that Lip knew that.

“Carl tells people you taught him how to fight,” Ian went on. “Brags that the infamous Mickey Milkovich taught him everything, and that’s why he makes a good cop.”

Mickey snorted. Of course that little fucker did.

“Didn’t think he’d grow up to be a pig, did I?” he said, and Ian just smiled.

“Liam tells the school bullies that if they mess with him, his brother will beat them up,” Ian continued. “Didn’t work very well until he said that brother was you.”

“Damn right I would,” Mickey agreed easily, scowling at the idea of anyone giving Liam a hard time. “He’s a good fucking kid.”

“And Franny fucking adores you,” Ian said, knowing it would make Mickey smile. “Which means Debbie does, too.” Ian scooted closer, sitting on Mickey’s thighs instead of his shins.

“You know I offered to babysit the other day, and the first thing Debs asked was if you would be there?” Ian laughed. “She almost said no until I promised you would be.”

“Little sis has good sense,” Mickey muttered, flushing to his ears, and Ian nodded.

“She does,” he agreed. “They all do.” He raised a hand to Mickey’s face, held his cheek. Stroked his thumb over it. “You’re family, Mickey,” he whispered. “And they love you. Just like I do.”

“Fucking sap,” Mickey murmured, leaning into the touch.

“You know it,” Ian said, and pulled him in for a kiss.

When they parted, Ian took Mickey’s worries with him.

“What do you say?” Ian asked softly, hand sliding down to Mickey’s neck. “Come home with me, let them apologize?”

“Thought this was home, now,” Mickey said.

“It is home, for us,” Ian answered. “But the house is home too. Family is home,” he stressed. “And you’re family.”

“Lip ain’t gonna apologize,” Mickey pointed out next, leaning in again, and Ian shrugged.

“Come home with me and tell him he’s an asshole?” Ian offered instead.

Mickey grinned, resting their foreheads together.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I can do that.”

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lip gallagher

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positivexcellence · 3 years

Text

Jared Padalecki on the ‘Walker’ Finale and ‘Supernatural’

What do you think motivated Cordell to force Stan to confess to his crimes in front of the entire Walker family?

Season 1 saw Cordell Walker still reeling from his wife’s murder and trying to put on a happy face and professional face, but really going through a lot of turmoil behind the scenes. I think he realized that the only way he could refrain from killing Stan outright was to get him to confess. Being an attorney and the D.P.S. chair, Stan knew all the loopholes and all the ways out. Walker had to set his eyes on a goal, so what was going through my head [as an actor] at the end of [Episode] 17 and all of 18 was that I just have to get this guy to say the truth and to agree to tell the truth in public.

I actually added that line on the day where I say, “Tell my family what happened.” Then, in that moment, it just occurred to me to say, “Tell Emily’s family.” [Nordling] did such a powerful job in that last scene of pulling the line between somebody who’s ashamed, but finally just ready to release the proverbial escape valve on all the pressure that’s been building up for him.

How does finally uncovering the truth about his wife’s death help Cordell to move forward?

He just needed to exhale, and he’s at a better place now. Now he realizes he needs to be there for his kids, for his parents, for his brother, for his work partners, and for himself. We’ll see in Season 2 that Walker has found some degree of closure.

How much influence did all of the stories of families being separated at the U.S.-Mexico border have on this series?

I was reading an op-ed from a law enforcement agent in Texas about how they were bound by duty and how they had to obey the law, but they just couldn’t bring themselves to put a 3-year-old in a cage. People talk all the time about how a coin has two sides. But in reality, a coin has three sides: there’s heads, tails, and the edge. So we wanted to find that edge, that gray area, and really lean into it about somebody who takes their job very seriously, who risked their life to make others’ lives safer, but also still has a deep moral code.

We developed the show before the pandemic and things came to a fever pitch between our communities and our law enforcement in different parts of the country. And America doesn’t really have a big appetite right now for tall, white, straight law-enforcement agents roundhouse kicking minorities in the face — and nor did we, so that lined up. [Laughs.] We’re more interested in these stories of a parent or a human being who find themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place.

How did you begin the transformation from Sam Winchester to Cordell Walker last year during the pandemic?

We had already been developing “Walker,” so I was able to spend some time leaning into who this character might be. And at the time, I think [the showrunner] Anna [Fricke] and the gang had already broken five or six stories. I used that time selfishly to really try and develop Cordell Walker even further, because I knew that getting the phone call to go back to Vancouver and finish “Supernatural” would come in a snap. I did 327 episodes of that show, and that is basically 2,500 full days of filming and all the days in between of prepping and trying to figure out who Sam is, so it wasn’t difficult to get back to Sam. Frankly, knowing the last few episodes of “Supernatural,” I didn’t really want to live as Sam every day, because they were so sad. [Laughs.]

Do you still find yourself grieving the end of “Supernatural”? How did that show change your life?

We, the people who worked on and watched “Supernatural,” were all fortunate to have that time to prepare for a loss. And ultimately, the loss still was tragic and dramatic. But in another sense, “Supernatural” never really died. I still talk to [Jensen] Ackles, Misha [Collins], and the rest of the gang. I did “Supernatural” from age 22 to age 38, and I’ll never deny that my time and experiences on that show are certainly a part of who I am now. It’s still a part of me. I could film a scene as Sam Winchester right now because he lives in me, and I’m certain he always will.

I’m sitting in my office right now, and behind me is my last-ever tape mark. The last day of shooting when we shot on that bridge, which was the last shot of the series, we had our tape marks. My dear friend [the actor and stunt man] Jason Cecchini picked up the last tape marks — my red tape mark and Jensen’s blue tape mark. He put them on a call sheet and framed them, and as we all said our goodbyes, he handed them to us. I have so many reminders. The mother of my children is somebody I met on the show in Season 4, and now we have three kids! It sounds like a cop out, but because I thought about it so much, I can’t even begin to explain how much it changed me.

In June, you posted on Twitter that you were “gutted” to learn that your former co-star Jensen Ackles and his wife, Danneel, were working on a “Supernatural” prequel without your knowledge. What exactly happened that night?

I hadn’t heard of it, and then he and I chatted [the next morning]. He just kind of explained: “Man, it’s not picked up yet. It’s not even written yet.” He knows and I know how much “Supernatural” means to both of us, and it wasn’t a secret he was trying to keep, necessarily. It was just something that he didn’t feel really even existed yet. But he has been like: “Hey, I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

I love Jensen deeply. He’s my brother — he has been for many years, and he always will be, no matter what. He’s spent more time with me on camera than anybody probably ever will, so he knows my strengths and weaknesses more than I do, and vice versa. I respect his opinion.It was just one of those things that because it was online, and people were assuming I was part of it, I really wanted to just say: “Hey, I’m not keeping a secret from you guys. I just don’t know about this.” And I should be old enough to know better than to put something out there and expect that people will understand. It’s hard to tweet a specific tone. If you write it online, it’s like, “Oh, he doesn’t know! They’re going to kill each other! The world is ending!” And I’m like, “No, no, no.” [Laughs.] I try to avoid social media as much as possible because of that.

#Jared Padalecki #walker spoilers

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

For The Lover That I Lost (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Welcome to part 9, inspired by Sam Smith’s “For the Lover That I Lost”. This now takes place post-civil war.

Summary: Y/n and Wanda are finally able to talk. Will the talk end in love or tragedy?

“All of the memories feel like magic, all of the fighting seemed so sweet. All that we were, my love, was tragic and you're the last thing that I need.”

“Do you think we could have that talk now?”

For a moment you just stared at the clouds floating past the small window you were seated by and let the question hang in the air. She had given you space for a few hours, but you knew this moment was bound to come.

The problem was that your healing was precarious, you knew that, and you didn’t know if it could withstand a conversation that was sure to open the wounds you had spent months patching up.

“Y/n?” Wanda called, cautiously placed a hand on your shoulder.

With a deep breath you turned your body to face her. “I thought about it, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wanda.” You answered honestly.

Her brow furrowed slightly, “I understand your hesitation, but-“

“Look, Wanda, allow me to save you the trouble.” You began steadily, “You’re sorry for how everything happened. I accept your apology. You don’t want to lose me from your life. Give me some time and then we’ll work on rebuilding the friendship. Did I get everything?”

She stared at you, her eyes troubled. “Well, not exactly, I was trying to-“

Once again, you interrupted her. “And I won’t stand between you and Vision.” You added with a snap, as if you had just remembered something important.

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Wanda exclaimed, shocking you into silence. “Sorry, I just-… I forgot how stubborn you can be.” She rubbed her arm in embarrassment.

You stared at her silently, granting her wish of no interruptions. Waiting for her to get to her point, that you still weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

As you observed her, you noticed the way she nervously spun the ring she was wearing on her finger while she seemed to ponder where to begin. “Have you always done that?” you gestured to her hands, unable to stop yourself from asking.

Her eyebrows raised at your question, obviously not expecting it. “I…” she thought about it for a moment, then ducked her head slightly. “I guess it was something that I picked up from you. For so long, your nerves were intertwined with my own that it just became a habit from watching you, I guess.” She mumbled.

You bit your lip and nodded but said nothing, taking note of how her eyes closely observed the action. You gestured for her to go on.

Wanda took a deep, steadying breath, making sure she maintained eye contact with you. “First, I am no longer with Vision. I haven’t been for months.” Your eyebrows raised curiously. “You were right though, part of what I wanted to talk about was how sorry I am. Y/n, I am, so, so, sorry. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I certainly don’t forgive myself.” The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise.

The glassy look in her eyes and prominence of her accent were tell-tale signs of how upset she was. It was information you wished you didn’t know anymore. You dropped your gaze to your lap, it was easier this way.

“There is no excuse-“ she continued until a quiet knock on the wall made her stop. You both looked over to see a sheepish looking Steve Rogers standing a few feet away.

“Sorry to interrupt. Again.” He coughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve landed at our temporary hide-out. It’s that house up in the distance.” He gestured vaguely as the door to the quinjet opened to reveal an open field with an unsuspecting two-story house located in the center.

Under normal circumstances you would have thought it was a beautiful sight. The knowledge that you were all there on the run, tarnished that though. You let out a quiet breath. “It’s beautiful. Where exactly are we?”

“Spain. A very rural area at that.” He replied easily.

Despite the view, Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off you. She needed to talk to you uninterrupted and it seemed as though the universe was actively trying to prevent that from happening. All she could do was hope that this wasn’t an omen. That she still had a chance.

“How long will we be here?” Wanda questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you.

At the question, Steve shifted in discomfort. “A few days... if that. When Natasha arrives, it’ll be best if we split into small groups at most. We’re wanted fugitives now.”

“Natasha?” you asked with a tilt of your head, distinctly remembering her on Tony’s side.

Steve nodded. “She helped me and Bucky get out. She’s wanted now too.”

Both you and Wanda shared a look of surprise, Wanda speaking up before you could say anything. “Thank you for the update, Steve. We’ll meet the rest of you inside.”

With a knowing nod, Steve took the hint and turned to catch up with Sam who had already began walking ahead. “Guess we better head out.” you mumbled.

“Can we take a walk before we go in? I’d really like to finish our conversation.” Wanda requested hesitantly, her eyes pleading.

With another steadying breath, you nodded. She seemed determined and obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, Wanda.” You stood up and walked with her out of the quinjet, veering to a small path that was on the side of the house rather than going inside.

After walking a decent amount, Wanda stopped and took your hand, effectively stopping you as well. You looked at her expectantly. She decided she couldn’t handle another interruption and decided to just be bold. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her words were so unexpected that you just stared at her for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to process. “I’m sorry, what?” you eventually choked out.

“You are the love of my life.” She repeated with three light squeezes to your hand. “Pushing you away – not fighting for you – was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I never plan on making again. I was confused and thought that my powers were tied to my heart. I was wrong. The only person that has ever held my heart and will ever hold my heart is you. I want to grow old with you. I want you for the rest of my life.” Her words were passionate and desperate as she tried to express the true contents of her heart, hoping you’d believe her.

Disbelief was the only thing you could feel as you watched her shimmering eyes remain on yours. Shortly following the break-up you had dreamed of a moment like this. Not anymore though. You couldn’t. You had spent months learning to live without her. The risk of allowing her back into your heart came at much too high a cost. You wouldn’t recover a second time. “I-I learned to live without you, Wanda. I can’t risk it with you again. I’ve played before and lost.” You answered, finally pulling your hand out of her grasp.

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a pleading tone, ignoring your words. She took your hands back in hers, you noticed that they were shaking ever so slightly. “Tell me you still love me. Please.”

You swallowed thickly and met her eyes, “I don’t love you anymore.” You said weakly, so weakly that you didn’t even believe it yourself.

Wanda shook her head, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t believe you. I know you still love me. A love like ours doesn’t just go away. I love you, Y/n. Let me show you.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took your face in her hands and connected your lips passionately.

Wanda sighed contently at the contact she had been missing, the way you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The rush of electricity was a feeling she longed for. Getting swept up in the moment, you returned her kiss temporarily before the shock wore off and the hurt settled once again.

Pushing at her shoulders you quickly stepped back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to go away, Wanda.” You shouted at her. “I think I should go.” You mumbled turning to leave.

Watching you walk away again was a nightmare vision to Wanda and she would be damned if she gave up so easily again. She ran and stopped so she was directly in your path, preventing you from going any further. “Y/n, please, I can’t imagine my life without you” The tears she had been holding back bubbled over the surface and fell down her cheeks. You fought the urge to brush them away.

“You know, I used to think of you as the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with too. As somebody who would never hurt me. Ever.” Wanda listened to you quietly as tears flowed more steadily down her cheeks. “Now all I see when I look at you is that last moment on the roof. Of you with him. It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do… it’s too late.”

A sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she briefly covered her face with her hands. “Y/n, please… This can’t be it.”

“It is though.” Blinking back tears, you moved to step around her.

“Y-you’re a coward!” She cried after you, at your retreating figure. The pain clear in her voice.

Anger quickly replaced the anguish at her words. You spun around to face her, her jaw clenched. You couldn’t believe her. “I’m the coward? No, Wanda, you are!” you shouted back.

The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, tears falling even faster. She seemed at a loss. “You’re the one that chose to run instead of staying and fighting!”

Her words made something in you crack, she had no right to be angry. To pin the demise of what you both once were on you. “How is that fair?” you snapped at her. “I was supposed to stay and fight for someone who had very clearly decided they didn’t want me anymore? You don’t get to pardon yourself. The ashes of our relationship are on you and you alone.” You gritted out bitterly.

For a moment she just stared at you, her chest heaving as she clutched at her chest. Almost as though your words physically impacted her. “I…I’m sorry.” she took a deep breath and recollected herself. She reached out to you, you stepped back. Her face contorted in pain at the knowledge that you didn’t want her anymore.

“I know I don’t deserve it and you have no reason give it to me, but please, give us a second chance. Let me prove to you I mean what I say, to prove that you… you are everything. There will never be anyone else. I love you.” her eyes met yours pleadingly, slowly breaking before your very eyes.

You took your own deep breath and braced yourself for the words you were about to say. “Wanda, we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad, but it’s true. We’re bound to end in tragedy.” You said quietly, staring off in the distance because you weren’t sure you could handle watching her reaction. “It’s time to move on.”

Like a magnet though, your eyes found hers either way.

Broken. That’s the only word that came to mind when you saw her expression. Broken sobs left her lips. Her eyes glistened as they desperately searched yours for something, something that you had blocked off long ago. “You don’t mean that.” She whispered, her lips trembling along with her words.

You shut your eyes for a moment and prepared yourself to close the door on what you both had. “Goodbye, Wanda.” You whispered as you walked off without looking back.

If you did, you would have seen the way she fell to her knees. The knowledge that she had no one to blame for her own broken heart but herself bringing her to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked through her body. Longing for the comfort of your arms.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you listened to the sound of her cries in the distance, but you knew it was for the best... At least you hoped it was.

That night Steve announced that it would be in everyone’s best interest to split up for the time being as he handed out older phones to everyone so each of you could be contacted and check in. After his announcement everyone retreated to their room. You quietly let Steve know where you planned on going and told no one else.

As you discreetly prepared to leave the following morning, you found a dozen flowers at your door, half purple violets and half white dittanies. The memory of the last time you saw these flowers filled your mind bittersweetly. A memory that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

When Wanda awoke, she was disappointed to find the flowers she had gifted you back at her door and the room you were staying in empty. Even if her heart ached, she knew that she couldn’t give up. She’d try and try again because your love was worth fighting for and she wouldn’t let you go again. She was determined to spend the rest of her life trying to win you back if she had to. There was no other path for her.

And there we have chapter 9! Angst, angst, angst. I got a little carried away lol. Only 3 more to go, where do you think the reader and Wanda will go from here? As always, hope you all enjoyed and thoughts and comments always welcome.

P.s. did anyone catch a hint of a different Sam Smith song in there? It may be a hint for the next chapter, it may not be. Still deciding.

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fuwushiguro · 3 years

Text

@dabitdabi Welcome to playmate life gorgeous! Hawks is one of my favourites to write so thank you so much for sending him my way, I hope this is worth the wait!!

This is part of my Playboy Mansion event, feel free to participate!!

Hawks x f!reader

Genre: smut, (idk if this might be a bit fluffy too??)

Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, consensual sex, mentions of alcohol, oral (female receiving), fingering, mentions of cum, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

Words: 3.5k

This wasn’t your first Playboy party, and you were sure it wouldn’t be your last. You’d been working as a bunny for around three months now, the first party was a little overwhelming, but the other girls were more than happy to hold your hand through the whole experience. The more parties you attended, the more comfortable you became. You never worried about guests being inappropriate, you weren’t just employees to your boss. You were bunnies, and you deserved to be treated with respect like everyone else attending the parties, you were the stars and made these extravagant events what they were.

You knew being a bunny came with the connotation of being hypersexualised, but becoming a bunny was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You weren’t one of the most popular bunnies since you were a little shy, but you were known by all of the guests who regularly attended these parties. You were often tagged in photos where you’d posed with guests. They’d always leave little comments that made you smile. You had the best job in the world.

Your first instance of trouble came at this particular party. You’d never experienced any guests acting unseemly, but this evening was different. You leaned over the bar to collect a tray of shots to walk around with, when you felt somebody tug on the tail attached to your corset. You ignored it at first, understanding that guests enjoyed playing with the bunnies. However when the assailant delivered a stinging spank to your ass cheek, your attention snapped in their direction. You recognised the man, he was a gruff looking entrepreneur who’s name you couldn’t place right now. It was apparent that he was drunk, you hoped it was just a little bit of teasing. He became a little more aggressive with you, begging you to kiss him and spend the night with him. There were no members of security nearby, but a few of your fellow bunnies did their best to help you get away from him, to no avail.

“Hey, get away from her.” You heard someone speak. You turned to face the soft voice, and struggled to see the man who had came to your defence through your bleary eyes. The drunk man tried to argue. Quickly you rubbed the droplets out of your vision so you could see who was helping you. Before the drunkard could state his case, your rescuer had grabbed him and pulled him towards a member of security to deal with. Some of your friends crowded you and coddled you, making sure you were okay after what happened. The blonde-haired hero came to check on you once he’d dealt with the situation. Before you could think, you rose to your feet with tears flowing from your eyes and ran to the nearest bathroom. You locked yourself in a stall while you broke down, feeling bad that your makeup would be ruined. You hoped that you wouldn’t get in too much trouble for taking the rest of the night off, but you’re sure that the other girls would defend you and explain the situation. You wouldn’t be surprised if the man who groped you got banned from attending these parties. There is a strict policy against any fornication at work, it was a fireable offence. But guests also had a one strike and you’re out rule, they mostly knew better than to try anything as brash as that man had, but he’d regret it now that he wouldn’t be invited to return ever again.

While you continued to cry, you heard the door squeak open, and footsteps approach your stall. You sniffed slightly, but mostly tried to calm yourself down. You couldn’t cry all evening after all, you didn’t want to give yourself a headache. You waited for the person to reveal themselves, assuming it was one of your friends. It would have been hard to tell who was who from the crack under the stall door. You were all in the same uniforms after all. But the shoes were nothing like your uniforms. It was a man, clearly, wearing a pair of bulky black boots and tan trousers.

“Um,” You sniffed, “Sir this is the ladies bathroom.” You alerted him, sure he already knew.

“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to check on you birdie.” He spoke back to you.

“I’m a bunny not a bird.” You corrected him, completely glossing over the pet name he’d decided to give you.

“Yeah I was just, never mind… You’re okay right? Can you come out here?” He queried. Obvious concern in his voice. You declined, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your eyes were clouded with unshed tears. Your mascara had ran down your cheeks and you were sure your foundation underneath had probably ran too. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he asked you again… and again… and again…

“Fine.” You responded.

You flushed your crumpled up pieces of tear-stained toilet roll away and unlocked the door. His expression flickered from concern to sympathy as he saw how upset you were. You walked by him so that you could wash your hands, and you noticed in the mirror that he walked into the cubicle you’d just left. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he returned to your side with several layers of toilet roll. When you washed and dried your hands, he ran the toilet roll under the tap. He cupped your face in one of his hands and lightly dabbed the damp tissue into your cheeks and under eyes. He was trying to help you; he was trying to tidy up your appearance. Why was he being so sweet?

“I think that just might make it worse.” You announced, knowing you were right.

“Okay then. Show me what I need to do.” He requested, “Please let me help you, I don’t want to see you upset like this over that scumbag.” He explained. Your heart clenched a little he was so caring and considerate; you could almost feel your heart melting. You took him by the hand and led him out of the bathrooms. You knew there were a lot of areas off limits and you’d risk losing your job, but you wanted to spend more time with your saviour and give him the chance to help you out again.

☆ ☆ ☆

You brought him to the bunny dressing room. You barged in with him assuming your co-workers wouldn’t be here, but one of them was sitting in a dressing chair topping up her makeup.

“You know you can’t bring people in here to hook up!” She reminded you.

“We aren’t here for that!” You protested, feeling extremely embarrassed. You felt the heat rise to your face and you tried to change the subject, “He just saved me from some trouble, please don’t tell anyone, he’s just checking on me.” You stated, hoping she’d take pity on you.

“Oh I don’t care, you know I won’t tell. I’m just about finished here so I’ll let you love birds do what you need to do.” She teased as she exited the glamorous pink dressing room.

You tried to protest once again before she left but it was too late. The honey-haired man smiled but decided not to join in the teasing. He simply requested that you show him what he needed to do to help you fix your makeup. But instead, you gave him your removal kit. You were done for the evening, there was no way you could go back to work when you felt the way you did. You both smiled and giggled sweetly as he did his best to remove your makeup for you. You chatted a little and got to know each other better, you found out his name was Keigo and he was a friend of the hosts. Once your makeup was off, you gave him a grateful, “thanks” and stood to your feet. The least you could do was escort him back downstairs before you turned in for the night.

“You know angel, you look just as cute without makeup as you do with.” He told you. You were stopped in your tracks as you couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. “Don’t you wanna hang out a little while before I have to leave?” He wondered, hoping you’d stick around. You knew that you shouldn’t, but you were too drawn to the handsome stranger that you couldn’t resist. You sat back down on the comfortable carpet with him and couldn’t help but coyly shy as he stared deeply into your eyes.

“Thanks again for saving me Keigo.” You repeated, you were so grateful for his help. You were sure that security would have helped you sooner or later, but you were truly fortunate that Keigo had been there to rescue you from his clutches.

“It really shook you up, didn’t it baby?” He sweetly questioned, “Have you never had to deal with something like that before?” He added. You shook your head.

“It was scary, obviously, but it wasn’t just that.” You expressed, not sure why you felt so comfortable sharing your personal life with this man.

“What do you mean?” He asked you, placing a hand on your leg. He stroked over your pantyhose with his thumb as he held onto you.

“Oh… I’m not sure I should say,” You started, “It’s a little embarrassing.” You followed. He didn’t speak, instead he just stared intensely into your sweet eyes, willing you to continue if you felt like it. You kept stuttering, starting and stopping your sentence as you tried to get the confidence to confide in him.

“Birdie, I promise I won’t judge you if you want to tell me.” He soothed, hoping to help you get your words out.

“It’s just… I’ve never…” You began. You screwed your eyes shut as you couldn’t bare to look at him when you finished your sentence, “I’m a virgin.” You blurted out. Your eyes were already closed but you felt so exposed you decided to cover your face with your hands too. You were so embarrassed; you were sitting with a guy who seemed too cool for school and probably had a wild sex life. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you opened your eyes and he was gone. But instead, you felt him grab your wrists and remove your hands from your face. Instinctively you opened your eyes, and right at that moment Keigo planted a delicate kiss onto your lips.

“I’m sorry if that was a little forward, I just wanted to show you it doesn’t bother me.” He smiled as he parted from your lips slightly. It was your first kiss, you weren’t upset. If anyone had to steal your first kiss, you weren’t mad about it being this beautiful stranger.

“Can we, um, do that again?” You asked, the words left your mouth and you instantly began to cringe. You hated how awkward you were, but he just had this effect on you. But before you could overthink your graceless comment, his lips were on yours once again.

You got lost in the feeling of his soft lips on yours. He tasted so heavenly; you couldn’t get enough. He got more adventurous and slipped a tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do so he did his best to guide you. Once you eased into it a little more, your kissing became more frenzied. You couldn’t get enough of each other. What started off soft and sweet became hot and passionate, but you knew you had to hold back. You couldn’t risk getting caught with him or you’d risk losing your job. He lightly groped your breast as his kissing traversed from your lips down to your neck. You couldn’t stop the moan that huffed from your lips, and you bucked against his thigh trying to gain some friction against your clothed cunt.

“You look fucking hot in that outfit.” He mumbled between kisses.

“Stop!” You raised your voice as you pushed yourself away from him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, confused by your sudden outburst.

“No, you’re great I’m sorry. It’s against the rules for Playmates to hook up with guests, I will lose my job if we’re caught.” You explained. Keigo nodded as if he understood, giving you an innocent smile as he planted a kiss on your lips once more.

“I get it. Sorry I got carried away.” He told you, picking himself off the ground. He held a hand out to you to help you to your feet, “I think I’ll get going. I’ll see you at the next party though, right?” He explained. You didn’t want to see him at the next party. You didn’t want him to leave. But you didn’t want to risk losing your job for the sake of keeping Keigo around. And you really didn’t want to throw your virginity at him just to prevent him from leaving.

“I, um…”

“I’ll have no reason to come to these things anymore if I don’t get to hang out with the prettiest bunny in the whole mansion.” He smiled, lightly brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You weren’t usually one for compliments. You knew guys would say anything to get in your pants. But there was something so sincere about Keigo. The way everything seemed so genuinely sweet and affectionate when he spoke to you. The way he made you feel like you were the only other person in the whole world with him. You loved being a bunny. You loved living with the girls and you loved all of the fun you had at the mansion. But you were in a role in which you were hypersexualised to everyone around you. How could they expect guests to not want to fuck you? How could you be expected to resist someone as sexy as Keigo? You didn’t think you’d lose your virginity like this, but who were you saving it for anyway?

☆ ☆ ☆

You pressed your lips against Keigo’s once again, and he was more than happy to respond. You began tugging at his clothes, indicating that you wanted them off. You didn’t break your kissing for more than a second. He took his jacket off while still deeply kissing you but removed himself quickly whilst he took off his t-shirt. You didn’t break the kiss either while you removed your high heels. You shrunk a few inches but Keigo didn’t mind leaning down a little further to keep smothering you in affection. He began to travel down to your neck once again but settled on the flesh of your breasts that were being hoisted up by your corset. You let out soft sighs as he continued. He crouched down slightly as he began fondling the bottom of your corset that resided between your thighs. He managed to unbutton it as he pulled down your sheer tights and panties. You were about to remove your corset when he asked you not to.

“You look too fucking good in that outfit to take it off.” He alerted you.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the praise, but it didn’t last long when he pulled you down to kiss him again, you were looming over him a little as you did. “Lie down.” He commanded. You did as you were told, eagerly awaiting whatever he had planned. He parted your legs a little, he repeatedly kissed your leg as he travelled up towards your pussy. He spread your legs wider when he reached your sopping sex, and instantly got to work licking your clit. You moaned almost instantly at the contact as your body softened into his touch. He slowly plunged a finger in, carefully working your innocent interior.

“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop, okay birdie?” He instructed.

“Y-yeah…” You moaned. You’d be crazy to want this feeling to end.

He latched back onto your clit. His licking started off slow, but he eventually picked up the pace. He alternated between licking and sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves all while still pumping his digit in and out of your tight cunt. The euphoric feeling caused you to writhe around on the ground. You were compelled to close your legs and clamp them around your lovers head, but he used his free hand to pin one of your legs to the ground while he continued working at your desperate cunt. He slipped another finger inside of you and continued his motions. He frantically began scissoring you open so he could prepare you for his cock. The sensations were too much, you hadn’t felt like this before. You felt a rising knot in your stomach and you were sure it was going to unfurl at any moment.

“P-please, Keigo I… I think I’m gonna.” You panted, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“No.” He spoke. Halting all actions. You were crushed. Why did he stop? You whimpered at the loss of contact and Keigo admired your little virgin hole clenching around nothing. You sat up a little, wondering what was going on. “Lie back down for me angel.” He commanded. You did as you were told, anticipating what he was doing. You knew instantly when you heard the unzipping of his pants. He was going to fuck you.

“Keigo… N-need it. Need it s’bad.” You whined. Your bratty voice earned a smirk from Keigo.

“Yeah? My mouth and fingers made you a little needy huh? I wanted to feel you cum around my cock.” He told you as he made contact with your dripping pussy. The feeling of him sliding his cock up and down your slit alone was heavenly. You were desperate for him to fill out your hole.

“Please, please fuck me now.” You requested.

He lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly sunk himself into you, making continuous eye contact with you as he did so. He was paying attention to every facial expression you made, he didn’t want to hurt you. He was impressed that you took him like champ, he completely bottomed out inside of you and he was more than ready to fuck your brains out.

He set a harsh pace almost instantly, he was aching with such a desperate need to cum. As soon as he saw you he knew that he had to have you tonight. He could see there was something untouched and innocent about you, but he didn’t expect you to be a fully fledged virgin. You were his now. No matter what you’d remember him as your first sexual encounter and no one would ever be able to compare.

He continued drilling into you, thoughts of owning you bringing him closer to his climax. Your arousal was rebuilding too. He began kissing you once again, although it was hard for each of you to focus. The building pleasure in the pair of you caused you both to occasionally moan into each other’s mouths. The sounds being devoured by each other arousing you more, bringing you closer and closer to your highs. He bent both of your legs up to your chest so he could continue pounding you at a deeper angle.

“K-Keigo,” You whimpered, “It hurts.” You expressed, not used to the feeling of him nudging your cervix.

“I’m sorry birdie, I’ll make it better I promise, I just-“ He stopped as he moaned through his speech. Making no attempt to change what he was doing to alleviate the pain you were feeling, “Cum for me baby you’ll feel better, I wanna feel you cum around me.” He huffed into your face. He reached down and began toying with your clit as he encouraged you to let yourself go. The contact was more than enough to send you over the edge. You were forced to keep constant eye contact with Keigo as he fucked you through your release. Your cunt clamped down on him, milking his cock for all it was worth. He rested his forehead on yours as you both came together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes.

You’d always heard mixed reviews about losing your virginity. You would either hear that it was a beautiful and romantic moment you should give to someone meaningful, or that it’s a terrible time and it has no meaning on your life. You didn’t know Keigo very well at all, but you felt grateful that he was the one you got to share your first time with. For someone who was a stranger, he truly did care about your enjoyment and keeping you safe. He was still between your legs, letting you warm his cock as he laid on top of you. He gently peppered kisses on your forehead and cheeks while stroking your hair.

You were lucky you hadn’t been caught, you were lucky that for now you still had a job. But if he comes back to the next mansion party, you knew that you wanted to do this with him again.

Thank you so much again for participating, it was a pleasure to write this and have you be a bunny for the night! I hope you enjoyed your experience at the party!!

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

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Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer imagines #character ship meme #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #thanks for your patience by the way! i would've had this up last night but i went out with family for the evening!

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Hello, I just saw that you opened your request. I'm the one who ended up writing a whole prompt! Imagine this for each member from La Squadra: they had an one-night stand with a random woman, she accidentally got pregnant and decided to have the baby without telling them. After a while, the woman got ill and passed away, but not without before sending her child with their father (let's imagine she has the direction of their hideout even if it's ooc, or she knew where they hang out). So, one day someone knocks the door and introduces themselves as the kid of one of the members/if it's too young, someone left them on the door with a explainatory note... How do you think each member would react by discovering that they have a child and they're supposed to take care of them from now? You can make each kid with different ages if you want, it would be funny to see Prosciutto or Ghiaccio dealing with a rebellious teenage son or Risotto trying to take care of a toddler, but I guess not all of them would want to keep their children. Sorry if it's a lot, haha.

La Squadra did a Diavolo

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Familial, SFW

A/N: your idea about mixing up the ages got me thinking, and I ended up using randomisers for the children’s ages (though I did consciously change some of them) and genders. It added a fun bit of chance to this prompt.

Formaggio, with an 8 year old daughter

The whole thing feels surreal to him. There's a little girl on his doorstep calling herself his daughter and by all evidence, it's true. He doesn't really know how to feel about it at first. On one hand it's kind of cool he had a kid all this time and you're clearly a lovely girl, but on the other hand, what the fuck? Still, not being the practical sort, his sense of sentiment far outweighs any question of how he's actually going to look after a child, so without much deliberation, Formaggio agrees to let you stay.

Formaggio isn't too experienced with kids but he doesn't exactly dislike them either, so he figures he knows what to do. At your age you can at least do the basics of looking after yourself, so he isn't too worried. The only problem is that if you ask him to cook for you or help clean your room, his eyes go very wide. He never quite picked up those skills himself, he's afraid, so you're going to have to ask someone else for that one.

The good news is that Formaggio is a very easy-going, fun sort of dad, who is a natural at playing with you and lets you do what you want when he can't be around. He quickly gets used to showing affection to you, letting you cuddle up to him on the sofa in front of the squad and even carrying you around once in a while. He gives amazing piggy back rides.

The bad news (or more good news, depending on how you are) is that you have to leave school. Risotto says that at your age you can't be trusted not to tell anyone your new family is a bunch of assassins, and taking you to and from school each day would be too much of a hassle. Nonetheless, you're welcome to continue your education from home, though Formaggio will hardly push you if you don't keep up with it. Melone is much better on that front.

Despite the risk, Formaggio can't bring himself to force you to lose all your friends, so he lets you keep meeting with them. Furthermore, he knows a few guys in other squads who have kids about your age, so he's happy to introduce you to them if you want a friend you can be more honest about your home life with. Formaggio might not have a clue what he's doing, but he's doing pretty good.

Illuso, with a 3 year old daughter

He's been fearing this day would come for years. A small child knocking on the door of the hideout, holding a note in hand addressed to him, just as a shady looking car drives away. Yeah, Illuso remembers your mother pretty well and he remembers the distinct lack of precautions they took during their encounter. Now, the consequences of his actions are here at his house, and Risotto is currently standing in the doorway of the office looking ready to give him the biggest dressing-down of his life.

After his tongue-lashing, Illuso frantically agrees to take responsibility for what he's done and see to it that you're well cared for, and begins the task of looking for relatives who might take you. Unfortunately, none of your mother's family can be traced, and Illuso can't exactly call up his own right now. Leaving you on the door of an orphanage isn't an option because you're old enough to say where you've come from, so it looks like for the time being, Illuso is stuck with you.

Initially, Illuso is not thrilled. He pawns you off on Melone, Sorbet and Gelato whenever possible and tries to live his life as before. But increasingly, he can't help finding himself visiting your room whenever he's stressed or has had a bad mission. There's something so pure about gently stroking your hair as you sleep. He can't help but feel... attachment, as he rubs his thumb against your tiny palm.

From then on, Illuso starts to make a point of spending more time with you. You're at the age where you just want to touch and explore everything you're given, so letting you make a mess with his makeup and beauty creams is an easy way for him to observe and learn about you. He even starts doing the more practical things like washing and feeding you every so often.

Eventually, Illuso becomes an actual father to you. He loves you as a father should and puts his time into making you happy. Illuso is glad he didn't give you away, as you've opened his eyes to so many things. For the first time in many years, he feels human. He feels redeemable.

Prosciutto, with a 13 year old son

As you tell him your story Prosciutto racks his brains. He didn't have many one-night-stands in his youth but the ones he did have were so far back he barely remembers them, so your mother's name doesn't immediately ring any bells. If it weren't for the striking resemblance between you, Prosciutto probably would have thrown you out for a liar there and then. But as you are, it's clear you're being honest. He lets you in.

After a short interrogation by Risotto to make certain you aren't acting on behalf of some third party looking to infiltrate the squad, it's agreed you can stay, so long as you keep quiet about it to your friends. At your age you can largely look after yourself and all you really needed was a roof over your head, so there's no problem with you moving into the spare room as long as you stay out of the others' way.

Education isn't much of an issue either, since you're likely well settled in your current school and can get yourself there and back. Just whatever you do, don't go telling anyone you live with a bunch of gangsters now. Prosciutto means it, you could seriously put yourself in danger if you do that.

Much to your father's ire, you end up befriending several members of the squad, especially the younger ones like Melone, Ghiaccio and Pesci who have some generational overlap with how you were raised. Prosciutto would rather you didn't do this but at the end of the day, he can't really stop you. God forbid you call him an old boomer again.

Your relationship is overall positive- Prosciutto makes a point of taking you on outings when he has the time, and giving you parental advice when you need it. However that doesn't stop you from making fun of his stuffy, old habits, and playing the moral high ground in regards to his work.

On that note, the problem comes when you develop an interest in the squad's work. It's only inevitable, given how pervasive the topic is in conversations around the house, and the fact you're more than old enough to know what a gang is, but the day you first ask him about it is no less welcome. What's scary is that you're about the same age as Passione's youngest recruits and, well, if you ended up joining them because of him, Prosciutto might never forgive himself.

Pesci, with a 6 month old son

He knew it had been a mistake. Not long after his 18th birthday he'd given in to the squad's pestering about his virginity and finally gotten rid of it just to shut them up. Now he's ridden with guilt. Not only did the poor woman get pregnant because of him but now she's died. He can't help but wonder, the letter attached to the basket you came in was very vague after all, was your mother's death at all related to your birth? If so, Pesci doesn't know how he'll forgive himself.

Pesci immediately panics and stumbles into his Fra's bedroom crying louder than you are. Prosciutto remains calm, advising him to first make sure this actually is his baby through Melone, in case this is somebody trying to trick him, and to then think through his options rationally. As far as Prosciutto sees it, he has two. He can either see to it that you're taken in by a caring, reliable individual, or he can keep you for himself. Surprisingly, Prosciutto's actually okay with the second one, since in his eyes duty to one's family is absolute.

Pesci stammers a bit and asks if he can wait a few days to make his mind up, which Prosciutto permits. But it isn't long at all until Pesci is far too attached to you to ever let you go, and it becomes clear you'll be staying for the long-run. Risotto is hardly happy about this but agrees with Prosciutto's sentiment of family, so he doesn't try to insist you be sent away.

Pesci is an incredibly loving father. He'll dash from the other side of the house at a moment's notice if he hears you crying. That said, being so young himself it's inevitable he requires some help with raising you. Sorbet and Gelato chip in quite regularly, as does Melone when Pesci is desperate enough to fall on using him. Prosciutto helps out too, being your uncle, and occasionally you've even had Risotto answer your cries.

La Squadra can only hope their situation improves somehow in the coming years, since Pesci has no idea how he's going to deal with an older child in a house full of assassins. At very least, being so young it's a long time before he has to worry about things like school. For now, what's important is that you are loved very dearly. Pesci has discovered a new protective streak in himself, something he discovers every time he looks in your eyes.

Melone, with a 4 year old son

When you arrived you were frightened and confused. You struggled to babble out the story you were told to tell as the strange men crowded around you in the front room of the house. Then, a bizarre looking man with purple hair pushed to the front of the crowd, insisting he knew what to do in a situation like this. He carried you somewhere quiet, and gently asked you to repeat your story again. You told him you were looking for your father, Melone.

Melone is elated. He's always wanted a child, but getting into a relationship stable enough to produce one has never been an option with the life he lives. Now the happy accident he never new he had has come home to him! Carrying you back to the living room, Melone introduces you as his son and announces to the team that he will be keeping you.

This is met with some protest. Not only are you of the age where you'll need constant supervision, but quite frankly, nobody trusts Melone to take care of a kid. Melone refutes their accusations harshly, making it absolutely clear he will not be giving you up without a fight. Finally, Risotto surrenders, on the terms that if he catches any signs of abuse or neglect, he will see to it personally that you are re-homed elsewhere.

Melone's parenting style is relatively laid-back. He believes parents should be a 'safe base' from which children should explore the world, coming back when they need advice but ultimately following their own whims within reason. He encourages you to play as you wish and does not stop you from bonding with the rest of the squad. Finding supervision for you while he's on missions proves to be a non-issue, since his stand's massive range means he can often do most of a mission's work at home.

When the time comes to educate you, Melone decides against the risks of enrolling you in school. He is an amazing teacher and can teach you everything you'd need in half the hours of a typical curriculum. Beyond the essentials of literacy and simple maths, Melone largely encourages you to follow you own interests rather than stick to some boring, arbitrary list of useless things a normal curriculum for some reason expects you to learn.

That said, he knows the importance of making friends, so he frequently takes you out to meet with neighbourhood children. All-in-all, the squad is surprised at his sensible parenting choices, and the happy child you are turning out to be.

Ghiaccio, with a 2 year old son

It's almost comedic the lengths Ghiaccio goes to to avoid the problem. As the others crowd around you in Melone's lap, Ghiaccio cowers in the corner insisting that you absolutely cannot be his. It's very obvious you are, of course. You look almost exactly like him, and have a cry to match. You've even inherited the same, mild visual impairments that earned him his glasses. There's no getting away from the truth.

After accepting the truth, Ghiaccio takes you away to his room to 'clear his head' before deciding where to send you in the morning, but when morning comes, that deliberation time quickly turns into a few more days, then a month, then never. It's clear Ghiaccio's become attached to you, and he cannot bring himself to give you away.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have the foggiest clue in hell how to look after a toddler. He has a hard enough time understanding what it is adults want from him, let alone small children. There are times he even considers giving you away again, but they never last long enough for him to go through with it. Bit by bit, he slowly learns how to be a father.

Melone is his primary co-parent. As cautious as Ghiaccio is about letting him around his baby, it soon becomes clear Melone can understand your needs far better than he can. The pair have many sessions together teaching Ghiaccio how to do things like wash you or cook your food. It's honestly a massive help, and probably the main reason Ghiaccio doesn't completely melt down within a month of having you.

These issues aside, Ghiaccio is a person who is very genuine in his affections. He would break the shins of anyone who even looked at you threateningly, and every fibre of his being wants you to be happy. He even learns to control his temper, as he knows from experience just how damaging an angry parent can be for a child. He's going to give you a better childhood than what his parents gave him, and that's a promise.

Risotto, with a 6 year old daughter

Well, perhaps this ought to have been expected. In his early 20s Risotto was really far less careful than he ought to be in regards to his encounters, so he probably had this coming. You are at a difficult age, old enough to understand your father is a criminal but young enough to still need his care. If he takes you in, there will be many challenges. And yet he cannot bring himself to turn you away. Looking at you he feels... obligation.

In the early days he tries his best to shelter you. He keeps you in his room and tells the others not to talk to you. But that's no way for you to live, and he knows it. Eventually, he swallows his fears and lets you explore your new home, even taking you out to the park a few minutes each day so you can run around. He talks to Melone about continuing your education, and asks Sorbet and Gelato if they'd let the spare room next to them be turned into a bedroom for you. He's going to make sure he raises you right.

Risotto may be quiet and introverted, but do not mistake that for emotionally distant. He does not underestimate his vital role in your emotional well-being, and is quick to pick up on when you are feeling sad or lonely. He makes sure to pick you up in his arms and ask what's wrong when that happens.

Though he didn't know her well, he mourns your mother with you, and is very watchful for the signs of attachment issues that may result from losing a parent at such a tender age. Being all you have left, Risotto gains a new instinct of self-preservation. For the first time in years, his life has meaning.

In terms of bonding, he prefers calm activities that allow him to passively observe your interests, such as watching movies or reading you books. When he's working in his office and doesn't need his camera on, he's happy for you to sit in his lap as long as you're quiet. He would ask if you don't read what's on his screen, though, at least not while you're so young. He'll give you a better explanation of what he's doing some day, but not just yet.

Sorbet and Gelato, with a 12 year old daughter

First of all, let's make clear that regardless of which one is biologically your father, they both feel equal responsibility for you. No doubt they were both present for your conception anyway, so as far as they're concerned, if one of them has a secret kid from a hookup, they both have a secret kid from a hookup.

Having always wanted children, they are happy when you appear on the doorstep and introduce yourself as their daughter. Though they don't say it out loud to avoid upsetting you, they kind of wish your mum had kicked it sooner so they could have raised you from a younger age, but they're more than happy to make do with what they've got. There's no hesitation in welcoming you to live with them permanently, and anyone who has a problem with this isn't brave enough to say it.

Right from the get-go they are very permitting parents, awarding you a generous helping of their cash each week and having a rule list that pretty much starts and ends with "don't talk to the police." Despite your age they don't expect you to be independent, and are happy to cook for you and help you out with other things when you ask. It seems parenthood was made for them.

Despite all this, there is one problem in your relationship that is making things difficult. That of your fathers' work. You're 12 years old and you aren't stupid. You know they kill for a living and you know they enjoy it. When you stumble into the bathroom at 1am to find them covered in blood and laughing together, there's no making excuses. No matter how good they are with you, this is going to make you afraid of them.

Sorbet and Gelato are incredibly stringent in solving these early issues. After all these years they've finally got the family they wanted, and they aren't going to let it slip away from their own cruelty. They are honest with you about their occupation, since they want you to know you can trust them, and make absolutely clear it won't affect their care for you. You are welcome to ask questions and receive honest answers, but other than that Sorbet and Gelato will make a point of not accidentally causing you to witness something you shouldn't.

With them, you are welcome to continue your old life in terms of school and friends. They want to spend time with you, but they don't want to overtake your existence completely. When you are up for it, they are keen to take you on outings that interest you so you can spend time together as a family. They hope you know how happy you make them.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

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not-using-this1 · 3 years

Text

Don’t shut me out ~ N.Romanoff

Time for another angst/fluff oneshot I think so here you go :)

In which Natasha knows she has feelings for a certain woman on the team, but she knows that she can't and tries to ignore it, avoiding y/n like the plague. Y/N has had enough of being avoided by her and confronts her about it...things get complicated.

Prompts: "Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don't take it personally. It's just easier".

Warnings: none

Word count: roughly 1990

She had been trying to avoid her for the passed two weeks, going on missions for Fury, so she didn't have to be around the Avengers tower. But when she was, it was straight to her room that she had or even the training room if that woman was not there.

Y/n L/n, one of the most badass women who could control fire and bend it at her will, a woman she had known for only a few months since y/n was new to the team. In those few months, she had actually formed a friendship with the woman. And that went from one thing to another...The Black Widow started forming 'feelings' for her. It wasn't her fault, she's only human, but Y/n' beautiful h/c and absolutely gorgeous e/c orbs were always in her mind, especially that smile.

Natasha wasn't scared of these feelings per say, she just knew that it was wrong considering that this woman, this adorable, badass woman was a teammate of hers. Sure, she had a relationship with Clint (Hawkeye) but that was before they even joined the Avengers, all they are know is just partners and good friends.

So what made her think this could work out? Nothing, because it can't - that's just a known fact.

Continuosly avoiding her seemed like the better option, shutting out everybody on the team when she was around. Clint had tried to ask her a few times what was going on but like usual she was easily able to make sure he couldn't read her very well.

Walking down the hall to the kitchen of the Avengers tower, she spotted Y/n, Clint, Thor and Bruce. So as quick as she could she went to grab a drink and walked away, disappearing back down the hall to her room. Locking herself into the room. Who needs to be social anyway?

Y/n tried to say a simple 'hi' to her and she knew it. When she walked straight passed her and ignored her, she saw the hurt in her expression no matter how hard she tried to see it Natasha saw through her facade. But it wasn't just saddness, a hint of anger shown through.

Just when the redhead agent thought she could spend some time alone as per usual, somebody knocks on her door. But she doesn't answer it, she pretends as if she isn't there. They will go away eventually - probably, right?

Nope.

"Natasha, what's going on with you? You've been avoiding everyone for a while. I just wanted to know if you were okay." Y/n' soft voice was heard on the other side.

She heard the clear hurt in her voice which made the redhead feel guilt in her heart for what she had been doing, but that was for Y'n' own good. Nat waited for a good few seconds, not replying just to see if y/n had anything else to say.

Of course she did.

"Please Nat, we're all worried. I'm worried." And that just makes it all better does it? The redhead was feeling even more guilty now. She walked up to her door and put a hand on it, her forehead pressed up against it.

A heavy sigh left her lips, what was she supposed to tell her? That the reason she is the way she is because she likes her? No, that's not her. It's so out of her character to admit these things. Natasha never even had 'feelings' like this before, regardless of her past relationships.

Before she could even let her words come out, y/n spoke up once more "Don't shut me out", Oh god Natasha could hear how much she had hurt her, it's all coming out now. Y/n was usually good at keeping her emotions in check but right now in this moment, she couldn't.

"Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don't take it personally. It's just easier." Natasha replied, no hint of any real emotion, she just out right and blankly spoke the truth. The redhead was always blunt no matter what, her brutal honesty was an incredible trait and bad trait at times but it did the trick for her. She heard a sudden slam of a hand on the door. "Then stop, Nat! I get it, I've shut people out too, but trust me it isn't easier than telling somebody you trust what's wrong. It will eat you up inside, especially if it's about someone you see almost everyday. Let me in." y/n shouted but rather softly.

"Please, trust me." Y/n added softly. That's all she wanted from the redhead, to be trusted, to be let in. She already knew of her past that barrier was down but a new one was made up when Natasha started shutting out once more. Nat sighed heavily again, turning the lock on her door so the door could be opened. But the question is, will she open the door? And let the woman she is so madly in love with in?

Or does she want to continue shutting everybody out and risk losing her?

"Natasha, please." Y/n whispered just enough for Natasha to be able to hear through the closed door. The h/c avenger sighed, she was trying to be as paitient with the redhead as much as she could, honestly she would wait for her forever to open up if she had to but maybe right now wasn't a good time for it, maybe Natasha needed longer. "Take your time, just...please don't ignore me anymore, don't ignore any of us." Just as y/n was about to leave, Natasha door opened and she was pulled inside.

Both women looked at one another, never taking their eyes off each other. Their eyes perfectly trained on one another, before Nat sighed and looked away sitting on the end of her bed. Y/n joined her, and the two of them sat in silence.

One of them eventually had to break it but neither seemed like they wanted to, but y/n stepped in when she saw that Natasha could no longer hold her expressionless facade up when she was around her. "Nat, tell me what's wrong." It wasn't even a question now, more of a demand but in the nicest way possible with such a soft voice behind it. Frankly, the woman was clearly getting annoyed with her.

Again with the sighing, Nat tried to look directly at y/n and hold her gaze but all she could do was take small glances every now and then, taking out her beautiful red hair from the messy bun, trying to distract herself, this wasn't even going to work but it was worth a try, anyway.

Another moment of pure silence crept over the two women, Natasha was mentally preparing herself. All thoughts running around in her mind at once, something telling her to just tell her because she just couldn't 'lose' this woman, especially not right now...quite possibly not ever.

"I've been having these feelings, feelings I have honestly felt so strongly about even in my past relationships with men. I don't know how to comprehend them" Natasha started to explain, she probably worded it wrong but who cares? The wall she put up in her emotions was starting to crack and crumble on the ground once again ever since y/n became apart of the team...apart of her life. Remembering that entire month she pretended to 'hate' her when she was just being cautious, to getting to know her, sparring and kicking each others asses, to then even going out places together, and even missions. Those few times Natasha took y/n to her favourite coffee shop in New York.

God, why was this so hard?

"Okay, so first tell me what you're feeling." Y/n broke the silence, she wasn't so sure how to deal with either, none of them were very good with feelings and that much was obvious. "Seriously? Do I have to say it?" Natasha rolled her eyes, she really didn't want to say that four letter word that she never got used to. But y/n nodded, she had to say it either way. "Ugh fine".

"Любовь" She didn't want to say it in english, so she used her first language, russian. Hoping that y/n didn't understand a word she had just said, but the twist was she knew exactly what she meant.

"Love, right. You do realise I took russian, chinese, latin and spanish in high school right and continued them in college before being recruited to SHIELD?" y/n laughed. Natasha cured at herself quietly, thinking she got away with that. The redhead agent should've known that she was smarter then that. "So whose the man you like?" Wow what a way to assume things. Now, Natasha could just go with the fact that y/n had just called her love interest a 'man' and lie completely...but that wasn't the truth, besides she really does like her.

Natasha lightly chuckled at the h/c avengers last statement making her raise an eyebrow in question, not knowing why the redhead found that even remotely funny.

"Bold of you to assume it's a man." She laughed before going back to being all serious. "This was a mistake." Her mood changed so quickly that y/n didn't even have time to comprehend what the hell was happening. Natasha had grabbed her and walked her over to the closed door to basically kick her out...but before she could y/n got in front of the door.

"No, you have to trust me. Do you?" She asked.

Of course Natasha does, but she just doesn't know how to open up about this at all. The woman she loves is standing in front of her and this isn't easy, it never is. The agent simply nods her head staying quiet. "Just tell me about them, the way you know best." Tell her about them? How the fuck is she supposed to do that? It would be so much easier if she just showed her but what if she didn't like her back?

Oh fuck it.

Natasha wasted no more time, grabbing the back of y/n' neck with her hand and pulling her in for a kiss, not sure if this was the right move. Y/n was taken aback by the action but before she could even kiss Natasha back, the redhead pulled away regretting her decsion. "I am so sorry that was-"

"Shut up" Y/n spoke pulling Nat back into a kiss. They kised each other with such passion that Natasha backed y/n up against the door, trapping her between her and the door. Pulling away Nat smirked "don't tell me to shut up." She added.

Y/n laughed "when were you going to tell me?" She added, knowing full well what she meant Natasha kissed her for a good few seconds again.

"I wasn't but now I'm glad I did it through actions." Natasha replied with a small smile forming in her lips.

"Promise not to shut me out again, okay? Because I'm here for you, we all are."

Natasha knew that, but she couldn't make that promise, not now. Maybe if she was a different person she could but right now that wasn't going to happen. "Kiss me again?" Natasha replied.

Y/n couldn't say no to her, so she pulled her back in this time taking some control of the kiss until Natasha got comfortable and took over completely.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natalia alianovna romanova #marvel #my oneshot #avengers #natasha romanov #angst #fluff

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 4 years

Text

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23 for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it.

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues. Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place.

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back. A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @stassaurus, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove, @geeksareunique, @cailoleaf, @simonsbluee , @hereforsmutandfluff, @starxtt, @jenepleurepasbaby, @staygold-bebold, @marvelschriss, @captivatedbycillianmurphy

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shyficwriter · 3 years

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Temporary Home: Chapter 12

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: You want to make a run into town, but you're forced to take one of the Guardians with you if you want to leave. Guess who get's the pleasure of annoying you? If that wasn't bad enough, someone decides to show up at your door...

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: For my records, this is day 17 of the Guardians living with reader.

Word Count: 6,751

"Where you going?"

You turned and looked towards the source of the voice, Peter's voice, coming from a door to the kitchen. You had just grabbed your keys from the kitchen counter and you were finishing up the short list on your phone.

Obviously you had intended to quickly run your errands the other day when you planned to take the raccoon corpse into town to be tested, but when Fury showed up having brought his own doctor and lab to test the raccoon on site, and also sentenced you to wearing your arm in a sling, you obviously hadn't done that.

It had been a couple days since then, you having wanted to get used to the sling a little bit before attempting to drive. You knew it still wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but you really wanted out of the house.

"Just running into town," you say, not paying him much mind.

"Why?" he asked, his tone weighting the word, almost as if he wanted to tell you that you weren't allowed.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Because I need to? Ya know, check the mail, pick some stuff up, post a few bills?" You knew it could all wait, and the bills could be paid online if you really needed to, but he probably didn't know that. "Unless you need something I really don't see what it is to you." You weren't meaning to sound like a dick, but he was acting weird. You didn't like his tone, and his weirdness was only emphasized when you start to approach the doorway to exit the kitchen but he didn't move.

His eyes briefly went to your arm in the sling-brace. "Don't you think you should be taking it easy?"

That's what it was. Knew it. You roll your eyes so hard one might think they'd get stuck. "I'm literally fine." You make a shooing motion but he still doesn't move. Sighing, you make your way toward the other door, only to hear him jogging up the hall to meet you there, the sound making you pause before completing the distance, rolling your eyes before continuing on to see he had indeed done just that. You awkwardly cross your good arm with the one in the sling. "Can I help you?" you say irritably.

Gamora entered the kitchen from the other doorway and you looked to her. "Can you please make your boyfriend stop being annoying?" you ask.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," she quipped with a slight smile, "Why? what's he doing now?"

By now Peter had entered the kitchen through the doorway he had been blocking. He ignored Gamora's quip about him being forever annoying and said, "She's trying to leave, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, lucky for me, you're not my boss," you say, admittedly a bit childishly.

Peter then donned a smug grin. "You're right. She is." He nodded in Gamora's direction, referring to the task Fury had assigned Gamora, essentially making her your babysitter as punishment for you neglecting to seek medical attention for your arm.

Your nostrils flared in irritation at him bringing it up and Gamora gave him a look that clearly stated she was uncomfortable. No one had mentioned the incident since the first day. You, because you didn't want to be reminded Fury was treating you like a child, and the others for pretty much the same reason, seeing no reason to provoke you, especially since you were seemingly behaving. (Again, aside from Rocket, but you had taken to keeping your earbuds in for most of the time, so if he did act like a dick to you it often fell on deaf ears.)

"Peter, I really doubt Fury intended for us to keep her locked inside." Gamora said, having assumed Peter was only wanting to refuse to let you go out for a walk, which she didn't understand, because he hadn't said anything when you took one the other day.

"Well I really doubt she's supposed to drive like that."

Finally understanding the issue Gamora grimaced. Peter was probably right.

Just then Yondu and Kraglin came into the kitchen looking to make something to eat, but saw the tense atmosphere.

"What's goin' on?" asked Yondu with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't heard any fighting coming in, but the way you were standing between Peter and Gamora almost implied someone was getting into it.

Peter spoke up, stating how you were looking to make a run into town and how he thought it was a bad idea for you to drive, only he phrased it to group him and Gamora together as having the thought, which prompted Gamora to say back to him that she actually hadn't given her opinion on the situation yet.

Yondu eyed you, or more specifically the brace on your arm. "Can ya drive like that?"

"Yeah." you reply. It was true, the arm in the brace wasn't the one you'd need for changing gears or signaling, so you should be fine, even if truthfully it'd be better if you didn't.

Yondu shared a glance to Kraglin and then shrugged. "Don't see a problem then." He turned toward the pantry, Kraglin following his lead, before he added, "Long as ya take Quill with ya."

You blinked. "Excuse me? Why would I- That's not- I'm not-" You were caught off guard and were now sputtering, clearly not thrilled with his addendum.

Yondu grinned at Kraglin, who was wondering where the elder was going with this, before saying nonchalantly, "If you're too nervous to take a passenger like that, then ya don't need to be going alone."

"I didn't say that!" you countered, pushing down the fact that the thought actually had entered your mind. "Maybe I just don't want to be annoyed by him- and I actually don't know if I can take him. That was never discussed." Again, this was also true. The topic hadn't come up. You had no idea if they were allowed to leave the property. Sure, for some it seemed obvious that they couldn't go into public, but you truthfully had never asked and had consequently never been told.

"He's Terran. Not like you'll run into issue there. I s'pose we could always call yer boss and ask..." His tone was laced with a grin as he turned back to face you with a Terran fruit he'd come to enjoy. A pear, he believed it was called. He was sure you wouldn't go for calling Fury, and he was right.

"No, we don't need to do that," you say irritably. Last thing you wanted to do was call Fury for something like this when he was already unhappy with you.

"I do think it'd be better if someone went with you," Gamora finally spoke up. "It couldn't hurt, at least." She was actually leaning towards the "don't let the Terran with an injured arm drive" party, but part of her believed you'd probably be fine and wanted to soften as much conflict as possible. Being transported in SHIELD vehicles she had seen how the insides operated, and it didn't look so complicated that you'd need both arms. It's not as if you were piloting a ship, and if you did wind up needing help, she was sure Peter could figure the vehicle out well enough.

You give her a mournful look and Yondu speaks again.

"But if yer still set on goin alone, I'm sure Gamora there won't mind callin' that Fury feller. Bet ya just wanna get away so ya can take that brace off without gettin in trouble," he said cooly with a grin. Catching the frown Gamora threw his way he added, "An' if she don't, I can always do it myself."

You tilted your head at the man, expression a mix of confused irritation. "First off, no, I'm not just leaving to do that. Secondly, who do you think you are? My mom?" you snarked.

"Nah, but yer acting like a kid. Somebody's gotta knock some common sense in that stubborn head of yers." Yondu replied, unfazed by your attempted insult as he took a bite of the pear and nodded once more to your injury.

You didn't get it. Why would he care? Why did any of them care?? Was it guilt? Because you wouldn't have been injured if they weren't there? You wanted to ask but settled for just sighing in defeat. You looked Peter over. He wasn't wearing a shirt with any alien writing on it, so at least he wouldn't get any funny looks for that. "Fine," you relented. "Get ready."

Peter let out a triumphant laugh and said he was already ready to go.

You took a moment and opened a couple drawers before finding what you were looking for. "Take these just in case." You tossed him a pair of black sunglasses. "You'll look like a douchebag, but you're probably used to that."

Peter let out a, "Hey!" but you ignored him, making your way past the others to the front door, telling Peter to hurry up.

***

"Can I drive?" Peter asked as the two of you walked to your vehicle.

"Absolutely not." you answered back with an incredulous glare.

"Why not? It'd be easier to let me drive than you try to drive with your arm in that."

"Because I seriously doubt you have a drivers license," you begin to say. Peter opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when you added, "that would be valid here." You open the driver's side door and add, "And because I don't even know if you know how to drive."

"I'll let you know I've been flying a ship since I was ten!" Peter countered.

"I don't care." you reply. "You're not driving. I can't risk us getting pulled over and you not have a license. You're fully free to stay here if you have a problem with that." You gesture back towards the house.

Peter disappointedly huffed but got in the passenger seat. You won this round.

***

Once you and Peter had left out the front door Yondu grimaced. "Might've miscalculated that one..."

"What'dya mean?" Kraglin asked. Gamora also gave him a funny look.

"Thought fer sure tellin' her to take Quill would've made her see that stayin' put wasn't that bad."

"Wait, you were trying to use reverse psychology??" Gamora asked, clearly annoyed.

"If that's what ya want to call it." Yondu shrugged with a frown, watching through the window as you pulled away down the drive, making sure the vehicle looked like it was driving straight. Luckily for you, it was. Otherwise he was fully prepared to whistle and spear a couple of your tires. Kitchen window would've needed replacing too if that happened, seeing as it was closed.

"Doesn't matter what I call it! It didn't work!" Gamora scolded. "If you didn't think it was a good idea you should have just taken our side instead of trying to play games and sending Peter with her!!"

"What'dya mean 'our side'? You were saying she should take someone with her too!"

"I didn't mean it!" Gamora snapped back.

Kraglin looked uncomfortable, not liking the feeling of being stuck in the room while the two of the more intimidating Guardians argued. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by leaving he just stood there and nibbled at his protein bar.

"Calm down, missy." Yondu said. "It'll be fine. And if not, Quill's got one of those phone things SHIELD gave us. Boy can handle himself."

Gamora glared but didn't speak any further, choosing instead to grab an apple off the table and head to her room. Yes, it likely would be fine, but it didn't mean she felt good about it.

***

After several minutes of driving in silence Peter tried to make conversation.

"So... lotta trees out here..."

"Uh huh."

"You make these trips into town often?"

You shrugged.

"I can see you don't feel much like talking..." Peter said awkwardly. You obviously weren't pleased with taking a passenger.

You turned on the radio in response.

Peter tried again after a few minutes when the music cut to a commercial break, trying a different tactic. "So, why are you afraid of doctors?" he asked, turning the radio down.

You gave him a strange look. "What? Where'd you get that idea."

He went into how you seemed tense when the doctor was checking you over when Fury came, and then recounted an incident that had happened the other day.

You had been reading in the sitting room when Mantis came in. You overheard her tell Gamora that her throat hurt, and so you pulled a lozenge from a drawer in the nearby table, telling her to suck on it and to tell you if it still hurt in an hour. If it did, you'd contact SHIELD to inform them she needed to see a doctor. Hearing this, Kraglin had piped up and asked why you would see that Mantis got a doctor straight away, but you had to have one forced on you. You gave him a look before telling him that it was different, and left the room before he could ask how.

"I only just put the two together." Peter said. "It must be because you're scared of doctors."

"No," you said flatly. "I'm not scared of doctors. I just didn't need one. If Mantis was sick, she would have needed one."

"But you did need one." Peter countered. "And Agent Hill told me about what you did in Romania. You needed one then too. Why would you do that to yourself unless you were too scared to go see a doctor?"

You exhale out your nose, annoyed that Maria had been telling him your business. "I'm not afraid of doctors, ok? It was an important job. There wasn't the time to stop and say 'Oops, will ya look at that, my appendix needs out. Better put the job on hold so I can find a doctor.' Not when I can do it myself. Happy?"

"She said you nearly died. That doesn't sound like being able to do it yourself. You can't do things like that. It's insane."

Your face hardened. Who did this guy think he was? Telling you what to do, you barely knew each other! "What's insane is a crime ring that traffics children to the wealthy elite for sexual favors," you snap at him. "So I guess I'm sorry if I wasn't willing to compromise the job to go lay in a damn hospital bed."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. He still thought you were insane for performing surgery on yourself, but he couldn't quite find a suitable argument after what you just said. After a moment he asked, "Did... did they get out?"

You knew he meant the kids. You swallowed. "Most of them. I don't want to talk about it." You turned the music back up, and Peter let it go.

The two of you rode in silence for a good bit longer before Peter turned the music back down again to speak.

"How much longer until we get where we're going?" he asked.

"Not long. Another ten minutes maybe. Why?"

"I need to take a leak."

You almost roll your eyes. "Why didn't you go before we left the house?"

"I didn't have to go then!"

A huffed laugh escaped your throat. "Seriously? You're like a toddler." You shake your head and say, "Do I need to pull over? I can if it's an emergency."

Peter almost pouted from the toddler comment. "No, I can hold it."

"Alright. Suit yourself."

About five minutes later you come up to a town, and a few minutes after that pull into the lot of a shop, the first stop on your list.

"I just have to run in here and grab a few things, they'll have a toilet you can use." you say as the two of you got out of the car, adding, "Don't forget those sunglasses. I don't want to take any chances."

He rolled his eyes but put them on anyway.

Upon entering the store you told Peter he'd find the toilet in the back and told him you'd be looking in the spices, pointing in the direction he'd find you when he was finished. You debated going along and waiting for him since he was technically your responsibility, but you decided against it. The shop wasn't too large so you trusted he wouldn't get lost on his own.

You split off on your separate ways and you grab a hand basket before heading towards the spices. You had only browsed for a short while when suddenly Peter was back at your side. "That was quick." you said to him, locating two of the spices you needed and dropping them in your basket.

"Door said it was out of order." Peter replied, sounding almost pouty.

You shook your head and said, "See, this is why you go before we leave the house." You find the last spice you needed and give him a knowing look as you began walking away from the spices.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid!" Peter said indignantly, following you as you left the aisle.

"Don't act like one." you reply, turning to find the cleaning aisle. SHIELD had been kind enough to include other basic things like toilet tissue on their supply drops, which you had been grateful for with eight other people living in your home, and the Guardians had already come with their own toiletries like toothpaste and soap, but you were seemingly on your own for cleaning supplies. You were now running low on dish and laundry soap. Gods, there was always laundry now. At least they did their own. Mostly.

"You're one to talk!" Peter retorted, gesturing to your arm.

You glare over to him as you walked. You swore, if you heard one more time about how you were acting like a child just for being stubborn about not seeing a doctor...

"Ow! You did that on purpose!"

"Did not." You said flatly, though you absolutely had smacked him with the basket on purpose. Not super hard or anything, but enough for him to feel it crack him in the knee.

He pinched you on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Didn't do it on purpose." Peter mocked.

You were by the dish soap now and so you set the basket down to grab a bottle. However, you were sure to flick Peter on the back of the head before you did.

"You did not just flick me!" he said irritably, retaliating by giving your exposed side a couple quick squeezes.

Your arm jerked down fast as lightening, having been just shy of grabbing your preferred bottle of dish soap. Your cheeks were burning and you looked around as you scolded him in a whisper-yell. "We are in a public shop! Don't you dare start that!"

"You started it," he countered smugly. However, his the smugness was wiped off his face when you gave him a taste of his medicine.

"See how you like it then!" you say, using your good arm to return his actions. You hadn't been positive it would work, but you weren't disappointed to see the playing field leveled when it did.

Peter's eyebrows shot above the sunglasses, his eyes widening as he crippled away from the touch and grabbed your wrist. "Don't! I told you I had to pee!"

"Oh." You had been so busy bickering it had honestly slipped your mind. "Sorry."

"Truce?" Peter offered, releasing your hand.

"Yeah, fine. Truce." you agreed, reaching up to finally grab the bottle of dish liquid, a little embarrassed as you realized how much like children the two of you had just acted. "Just hurry up and figure out if you or your friends need anything before we leave," you say, making your way down the aisle to grab the laundry detergent.

It was Peter's turn to look embarrassed, only for a completely different reason. "Actually, now that you mention it- if it's ok, I was wondering if they sell... "certain"... things here?"

You put the detergent in the basket and begin to head towards the pharmacy section, realizing it wouldn't hurt to pick up some bug spray and more of that gel for the bites. Mantis had a bad habit of getting bit by midges, and most of the others had started falling victim to them as well. You didn't look at Peter as you walked, saying, "You're going to have to be way more specific than that, dude."

Peter's cheeks we turning noticeably pink by the time you looked at him when he said, "You know... um... the things... for "special moments..." he used air quotes and looked quite uncomfortable, even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes. "Um... you know... uh... When two people like each other very much..."

You wanted to cover your mouth to hide your grin, but one arm was stuck in a sling-brace and the other was too busy holding the grocery basket. "Are you asking if they sell condoms here?" You tried really hard to bite back a laugh, but a tiny chuckle slipped out. It wasn't that he was asking for them that was funny, it was the way he seemed like a teenage boy about it, all nervous and such like you'd call his mother on him.

Peter's face was bright red now. "Don't laugh! Just- never mind."

"No, it's totally cool. It's just funny. I mean, we're adults, you can ask for them. Like, at least you're being safe about it." Suddenly feeling in a better mood and wanting to tease him you say, "Unless... do we need to have 'the talk' young man?" Now you really couldn't hide your giggles.

"So not cool!" Peter pouted, hiding his face in his hands.

You nudged him in the arm and pointed him down that aisle and told him he could find what he needed there. You continued up a couple aisles to grab the bug repellent and itch cream.

You met back up and he wordlessly threw what he had retrieved into the basket, barely looking at you as he did so. You held back giggles at his behavior and asked if he knew of anything else you needed to grab before checking out.

Peter shook his head, and you can tell by his expression he's eager to leave the shop and go back to the house. You almost feel bad for laughing, and you get an idea.

"If your friends liked the Oreos I can pick you up some more. We'll pass that aisle to get to the checkout anyway."

Peter nodded and you grabbed another double sleeve of Oreos before walking to check out. You only hoped you wouldn't get stuck with one of those chatty cashiers.

Wouldn't you know it, of course you did. You weren't super familiar with the cashiers despite frequenting this store, but you had become familiar with the fact that you didn't care for the one who's line you got stuck in, not realizing you had until it was too late.

Normally you feel for retail workers. You knew it was a tough job, but this one cashier just didn't know how to get the hint that not every item he scanned needed a comment.

Laundry soap? "Ooh! Great taste in scent!" Spices? "Someone likes cooking! Anything good tonight? Yum Yum! Ha ha!" Bug spray and itch cream? "Oh those nasty midges are out again. I feel you, haha." Cond-? Oh fuck. "Oh ho! Someone's getting luck-ay tonight! Am I right, my dude?" He winked at Peter, who noticed you looked like you wanted to reach across and murder the cashier.

Peter chuckled nervously and tried to smooth it over. At least, that's what you thought he was attempting. "Oh- aha- no. We're not together. We're uh- She's my sister."

You snapped a glare at Peter as you thrust your payment to the cashier and grabbed one of the two bags before storming off, telling him to keep the change. Peter grabbed the other bag and left the cashier standing there, who at least finally had the decency to look embarrassed by his comment.

Peter caught up with you quickly.

"Don't call me your sister. I barely know you," you say grumpily. That wasn't really the full reason it upset you. Peter wasn't your brother. Your brother was gone. Peter didn't get to call you that.

"Sorry, I panicked," he said.

You brush him off. You knew there was no way he could know. "Whatever, let's just leave. Sooner we finish in town sooner we can go back to the house."

You made your next stop to a nearby petrol station to fill up your car and give Peter a chance to find a working toilet. After the two of you successfully completed both tasks respectively, you stopped by the post office to grab the mail and post your bills while you left Peter in the car. On your way out of the post office you caught glimpse of someone across the road and a brick fell in your stomach when they waved, indicating they clearly saw you. You nodded back out of politeness but hurried to get in your car.

You buckled in and looked in the rearview mirror, only to see the person, a middle aged woman in a flowery blouse, walking towards your car, still not quite to the road yet, and waving her arms trying to get your attention.

"Fuck," you say, putting the car in gear to reverse before stopping to put it back in drive to finish pulling away. This would be so much quicker if your arm wasn't in the damn sling, but you still managed even with having to completely stop to remove your hand from the wheel to safely change gears.

"What?" Peter asked, turning to look out the back window once you began to pull forward.

"Don't worry about it- and don't look back!" you scold. You take a peek in your review mirror to see the woman gesturing in defeat, thinking you hadn't seen her trying to get your attention, and you let a small relieved sigh.

"Who was that?"

"No one." you replied.

"So you ran away... from no one. Sure."

You shoot him a look and turn the radio back up, clearly signaling that you weren't about to discuss it. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

***

Once home you told Peter to put his "special" items (yes, you called them that, air quotes and all, just to embarrass him) in one of his pockets unless he didn't mind advertising them to the rest of his friends. You had assumed he'd be embarrassed if they were just on display for the others based on how he acted in the shop, and the fact that he obeyed implied to you that you were correct.

Once inside you and Peter made your way to the kitchen to put things away. He had refused to let you carry both bags, and you didn't fight him.

Sitting at the table were Kraglin, Yondu and Rocket. On the table were five empty bowls and an empty tub of ice cream.

You sat your bag on the counter and began pulling out it's contents to put them away. Honestly you were slightly bummed that they had finished off the whole thing, if you had known that you might have picked some more up while you were in town, but you didn't say anything about that. You did, however, say something along the lines of "Looks like you guys had fun without us."

Kraglin, who knew you didn't like the house to be messy and knew they were expected to keep up after themselves, began gathering the bowls to put them in the sink, to the eyeroll of Rocket.

"Yup. Ya two missed the party," said Yondu with a chuckle. "I'll admit, that ice cream stuff ain't bad." He then said to Peter, "Yer girlfriend is the only one who didn't want any."

You froze in place, your eyes widened. It hadn't clicked before. Your mind had been preoccupied with other things. Ice cream. Five bowls. There were seven people left at the house. Gamora hadn't wanted any. Tiny Groot probably shared with someone else. Yondu literally said he ate some. That meant... fuck.

You turned around to face them. Looking right at Yondu you say, "Uh, how long ago would you say you guys had the ice-cream?"

"Not quite half an hour ago, why?"

You bit your lips before saying, "Do none of you think to read labels before you eat things?"

Kraglin rolled his eyes playfully as he sat back down. "What? Ya mad we ate your snack?" he teased.

"No no no-" you state, holding up your pointer fingers like a teacher instructing the class on why they were incorrect. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or groan. Probably the later. You look over at Peter, who held a slight grimace on his face. You say to him, "You know what ice cream is?"

Peter nodded. He remembered ice cream. He also knew the moment Yondu claimed to have eaten it what the problem was.

You look back to the others. "Any of you know what ice cream is?"

Yondu and Kraglin exchange a strange look and Rocket rolls his eyes, wanting you to get to the point.

"It's basically frozen milk."

"Ah." Yondu says, clasping his hands on the table and dipping his head with a slight wince of understanding. He was about to have a bad time. Kraglin and Rocket now share a look that can only be described as 'Crap..." (No pun intended)

Disbelieving laughter bubbles up your throat as you bend below the sink to retrieve a can of aerosolized air freshener and plop it down on the table in front of Yondu. "That's for you, for the inevitable. Use it." You walk to haphazardly throw the contents of your grocery bag in the pantry, leaving your mail on the counter and grabbing your earbuds. "Make sure to open the windows... I'm going for a walk, because there's no way I'm sticking around to deal with that again," you say, giving a mock salute as you make your way out the back door, leaving the guys there to deal with what was sure to be the horrible aftermath of their oversight.

*** You finally came back a couple hours later to find all the windows still open, but no one outside, and decided that was probably a good sign.

You cautiously re-entered the house to find that no bad smells seemed to have stuck around and decided to go look for survivors, but first you needed a snack. You were starving.

You ate a pop-tart just for something quick and then found everyone in the sitting room. Feeling in decent humor you said, "Oh good. You lived." This earned groans from the others. They weren't really annoyed with you for abandoning ship, so much as they were annoyed that Yondu would have messed up and ate dairy for a second time. Well, Peter was a little annoyed that you had just left him there when he hadn't been part of who caused the issue, but he'd get over it.

Your phone started to go off, startling you and a couple others in the process. You checked the caller-id and recognized the number. "Nope," you say aloud, ignoring the call.

"Who was that?" Peter asked.

"No one," you reply, only for your phone to chime with a text almost in response. You open the text and your eyes widen before you make your way quickly but calmly to the windows to shut them and draw the curtains.

This, of course, gathers the attention of the Guardians.

"What's wrong?" Yondu asks, perplexed by your behavior.

"Nothing," you answer at first, before turning to face them and amending it to, "Nobody's home," and continuing your task with the other three windows, still trying to retain a semblance of being calm.

The others watched as you made your way about the room, sharing perplexed glances. Once finished with the final window at the back of the room you started heading towards the door when Mantis grabbed your hand.

"Are you ok? What can we do?" she asked, concerned. "Please tell me?" She could feel you didn't want to ask for help, but she hoped her asking nicely might work.

You barely glance at her, don't notice her antennae are glowing. "I'm fine. If you want, I could use some help shutting the rest of the windows and curtains, please and thank you." You pull away and head to the hall, where they can see you draw the curtains on the front door shut through the sitting room doorway.

"I know you said you can ease people into compliance, but I didn't think you could actually make people do things." Peter whispered to Mantis. He naturally just assumed that's what happened. You, miss "I don't need help from anyone!" had actually asked for help. Clearly that wouldn't happen without some Mantis mojo. The closest you had come to asking for help was the first time Yondu had dairy and you wanted Peter to help open the windows, but still, that was less asking for help and more of telling him what to do if he wanted to live.

"I can't." Mantis replied. "She was genuinely asking. She's very nervous."

Peter shared a look with Gamora and Drax stood up from the couch to follow you, and the they followed him along with Mantis.

Yondu and Kraglin stayed in the sitting room with Rocket, who told himself he didn't care about whatever this nonsense was about and continued to play with Groot. Kraglin and Yondu exchanged puzzled looks, because unlike Rocket they were genuinely curious what was going on to make you as nervous as Mantis claimed. Why were you batting down the hatches for?

In the kitchen Drax helped you close the windows and curtains. As soon as he heard Mantis say she felt you were nervous he felt there must be a good reason and that he should probably help you, just in case.

Then you started shutting out the lights, and this increased the other's concerns.

"What's going on?" Gamora asked, authority in her voice as she followed you out of the kitchen. You may be their host, but she still felt they had a right to know what was going on, if they were in danger.

"Nothing." you say, shutting off the lights in the hall on the way to the sitting room.

"If it was nothing you wouldn't be doing this. Something is wrong. Do we need to call SHIELD?" She asked more insistently, not believing you.

You turn to her irritably at the doorway. "No. We don't need SHIELD," you say, flicking the switch to turn the sitting room's light off, much to the puzzlement of those inside.

"I will if you don't tell us what's wrong."

Just then there was a knock at the front door, and you visibly startled in response before freezing in place and whisper yelling, "Quiet!"

The other's obeyed, not sure what else to do or what was going on.

Peter quietly stepped out of the kitchen where he had been peeking through one of the curtains when he thought he could see the dim glow of headlights through the fabric. He saw a blue car pull up next to yours, and out of it stepped a tall man in a light grey sweater and a woman in a floral print blouse. She looked familiar.

"Hey," Peter whispered across the hall, "It looks like that woman from earlier. The one you ran away from."

"Shut up." you hissed.

Gamora looked at the two of you in confusion, but didn't say anything, didn't get the chance, because the knock sounded again and a woman's voice could be heard from the other side of the door calling your name.

"We know you're in there." said the voice. It wasn't angry or confrontational like the others might expect for someone you were apparently hiding from. "Your car's in the drive and we saw you shutting the lights out when we drove up."

You grimaced.

"We just want to talk." It was the man's voice this time.

Peter and Gamora looked at you expectantly, and you shook your head at them. Drax was now standing behind Peter in the kitchen doorway, Mantis having already moved past him to stand next to Gamora in the hall with you.

"Yes, we just want to talk." The woman's voice again. "We saw you in town today, we've been thinking about you."

By now Yondu and Kraglin had made their way closer to the door to better hear what was being said. They didn't care if they were being nosy.

The man spoke your name now, questioningly, as if to ask if you could hear them. "Ok, we understand if you don't want to see us, but please listen; We forgive you, and we're sorry."

You take in a breath, trying to mask your feelings with the others near. They were looking at you. Gamora's face had softened, wondering what the man meant. Forgave you for what? Sorry for what?

"We shouldn't have blamed you for what happened. We know that now." came the woman's voice. "We've had a lot of time to think it over, and we were wrong."

The man spoke again. "We were just hoping you could find it in your heart to forgive us, too."

You felt your chest tighten and you eyes burn, and so you clenched your jaw and your fists, unwilling to show any emotion to the space-strangers in your home, but they noticed anyway.

Peter gestured to get your attention and mouthed, "Open the door."

You shook your head, and he gave you a confused look. You nodded your head towards Mantis and Gamora as if to say, "Um, not with aliens in my hall!" Although that wasn't completely the reason, and you had the feeling he could tell, as he only sighed and frowned slightly in response.

After a pause the woman spoke again. "Alright. We understand you may not be ready yet. Maybe another time. We're still at the same place when you're ready to speak with us. Hopefully that's soon. We'll be going now."

You waited a few moments before approaching the door, and the other's thought you might finally be going to talk to the couple. You didn't, mostly to Peter's disappointment. Instead you peeked through a sliver in the curtains to watch them leave, not pulling away until their vehicle was gone.

As soon as you stepped back from the door Peter asked, "What was that? Who were they?"

"Nothing and no one," you answer, not meeting anyone's gaze as you flicked the hall light back on and walk towards the stairs.

Mantis grabbed your hand, but you pulled away, telling her that you weren't in the mood to hold hands right then and you were going to go take a shower. She just looked down sadly in response, but you wouldn't look at her to notice.

No one stopped you as you walked upstairs, and when you were out of earshot, Drax whispered to Mantis asking what you had been feeling just then, having noticed Mantis had been reading you when she grabbed your hand.

The other's listened in to her answer as she mournfully replied. She hadn't been able to touch you for long enough to get a full reading, but there had been one dominant emotion when she did touch you. You had been sad.

This only rose more questions from the team. Had the couple been been angry with you? What had you done? Why would their forgiveness have made you sad?

Weren't most people happy to be forgiven?

The sound of your bedroom door opening and shutting travelled down the stairs, followed shortly by the same noise of the bathroom door as you entered for your shower.

Yondu almost thought he could hear the faint sounds of crying before the noise was drowned out by the sound of a shower blasting on.

#guardians of the galaxy #gotg #fanfiction #x reader fic #x reader #peter quill #star lord #fluff #yondu udonta #yondu lives #kraglin obfonteri #gamora #drax the destroyer #mantis #rocket raccoon #baby groot #shopping #drama #mystery

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