grate digging

Girly (Yondu x Reader)

I had never thought of writing a Yondu fanfic until I was scrolling through Tumblr and saw some fanfics. Why did I stumble across these?!?! Not that I’m entirely complaining! ;p

Hope you all enjoy! ;p

Synopsis: You’re found by Yondu’s crew and taken in because he believes you can be of use to him. Maybe in more ways than one … 

Warnings: Some swearing, very mild sexual stuff, some death.

Word count: 7k


Part 1.

“Ah, Captain?”


You listen as the tall, skinny man sheepishly talks to who you assume is the captain, “We found a Terran out there …”

“A Terran, eh?”

You keep your head down and continue to listen as the slim man replies, “A girl.”

Yes, sweetie, you think, I’m of the opposite sex. You almost want to roll your eyes at the awe in his voice. Were females rare to these Ravagers?

A sharp whistle makes you jolt, and you see from your peripherals the leering Ravagers back away from you. You’re on your knees; the diamond grated metal beneath you digging painfully into your knee caps and shins. Your wrists are bound behind you with metal cuffs and your bare arms are caked in drying blood and muck. It’s uncomfortable, but not as bad as the wound above your hip or the one behind your right knee.  

You’re grateful in that moment as your long hair hangs like a thick curtain over your face, disguising the discomfort you’re feeling.

“Where was she?” you hear a gruff voice ask.

The skinny man is quick to reply, “She was found in a spaceship with eight dead slavers. The ship we thought was abandoned.”

“What’s your name, girly?”

You bite your bottom lip, but refuse to answer the man. You can sense his frustration from your position and jerk away when you feel someone grab your arm. Seeing the burly man through your curtain of hair, you push forward and head-butt the Ravager as hard as you can. Ignoring the sharp and almost debilitating pain in your right leg, you push off the metal floor and knock the man’s legs out from under him. As he hits his head on the metal grate, you twist your arms underneath you until they are in front once more.

Without wasting time, you wrap your cuffed arms around the man’s neck and tighten your hold. Your side and right leg burn, but you ignore it as you strangle the man; you’re not ready to go back into slavery.  

You’re just about ready to kill the man when you hear a high pitched whistle and see through your matted hair, a hovering arrow aimed right at your skull.

“I suggest you let ‘im go, girly,” you hear a man warn.

Slowly, you relax your grip and push away from the Ravager as he gasps for air. You sit on your left thigh, keeping your right leg half bent. The searing pain is slowly ebbing away, but you can feel the sticky blood soaking your pants thoroughly.

“Got a name, girly?”

You toss your head back to move the matted hair from your face and look up at the man before you. He’s blue with ruby red eyes and jagged teeth. The arrow is still hovering in front of you threateningly and you make the connection to the glowing red strip atop his head.

“Got a name, boy?” you sneer back. Girly? Is that what I look like? Some stupid little girl?

The blue man clenches his jaw and you can see he’s contemplating simply killing you there.

You hold his gaze however, not wanting to give into the blue prick. You had survived ruthless slavers for almost a decade now, and you weren’t going to bow down to this Ravager captain.

“Name, girly?” the man pressed, holding eye contact still.

You chew on your bottom lip before replying weakly, “(Y/N)” You can barely keep your body upright anymore. Is it blood loss? Have I lost that much?

“Did slavers get you?” the blue man asks, watching you intently.

“Doesn’t matter,” you snap back.

“Sore topic, huh?” he taunts, cocking his head.

You try to formulate a witty response when you break eye contact and double over. Your vision blurs and you pant quietly.

Shit, shit, shit, you think in panic. You can’t fall asleep now (Y/N)! Hold it together until you get out of her-

The metal grate seems to rise and meet your face as your vision grows darker and darker . . .        


Part 2.

Your eyelids flutter as your eyes try to adjust to the dim light of the room. Moving your hand up to your face, you rub at your eyes and look at what you’re lying on. You frown at the dingy mattress on the ground and the patchwork metal walls surrounding you.

“I patched you up.”

Whipping your head to the right, you stare at the skinny man standing on the other side of the bars. He’s standing there awkwardly with his head dipped.

You frown and look down at your injured side and right leg. Sure enough, both have been bandaged.

“I – uh – I left an ointment next to you … you need to use it every day …”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes at the man, “Who are you anyway?”

“Kraglin,” the man replies. Before you can ask any more questions, the Ravager adds, “Anyway, Yondu – the captain – said he’ll come and see you soon. I don’t know if he wants to keep you though.”

Before you can tell the man you’re not some sort of pet, Kraglin hastily walks away.

You sit up slowly and lean your back against the cell wall, still feeling extremely weak. Unsure of why you had lost consciousness in the first place, you try to move slowly to not stress your body out any further.

You close your eyes and try to relax as best you can. You manage to tune out the clunking and hissing around the ship and get lost in your thoughts for what feels like only minutes, but ends up lasting for several hours.

You’re only drawn out of your thoughts by the cell door opening loudly.

Snapping your eyes open, you stare at the blue man as he closes the door behind himself and casually pushes his jacket back, showing you his arrow. You get the warning loud and clear.

“I was wonder’n’ what to do about you,” he drawls, eyeing you carefully as he comes closer.

You look up at him but stay silent.

He looks you over slowly and licks his lips, “Maybe we should keep you around.”

You growl at him, your chest rumbling as you do so. You’re not becoming some sort of sex slave.

Seeing where you’re mind has gone, Yondu laughs and shakes his head, “You’ll be good for thievin’ I think.” Then he adds after a pause, “You stolen stuff before?”  

You watch him quietly, thinking everything through. If you play your cards right, this blue man might just be your escape route out of here. Maybe you can one day steal a ship and get back to earth.

“Yes,” you reply.

“Killed people?”

“Yes.” You think back to the eight bodies you left lying in the slavers ship back on the small stop over planet.

Nodding, Yondu pulls out a piece of fruit from his pocket and throws it to you. You catch it easily and sink your teeth into it almost instantly, realising how hungry you are in that moment.

Yondu then comes towards you and quickly slips something around your neck. You jerk back with a hiss and claw at the thing around your neck. “What is this?” you growl, panicking.

The blue man backs away from you and says, “Tracking collar. Can’t have you running away now, can we?”

“What am I? A fucking dog?” you snap, feeling your heart quicken as you get worked up.

“Don’t know what that is,” he replies, and you don’t know if he’s joking or not.

You tug at the collar but have a very good feeling it won’t come off so easily.

Sighing loudly, you look down at your shoes and give up.

Yondu gives you another look before leaving the cell. He doesn’t close the door this time.  


Part 3.

It takes you several hours before you’re able to stand. Your legs are weak and you have to lean against the cell wall to support your upright body.

You manage to limb out of the cell and wander down the corridor with the ointment jar in your pocket. There’s no one around and you’re okay with that. You don’t know if you can fight off anyone who tries and takes advantage of you.

The pain in your side is nothing in comparison to the ache behind your right knee as you wander the corridors. The wound on your side had been from one of the slavers as you had escaped the ship on the planet. When he had dragged you back onto the ship, you had been sliced behind the knee as the slavers tried to weaken you. You had been too valuable to them to actually kill you. That had been their mistake.

Stopping against a wall, you clench your teeth and try to push through the pain.

You don’t hear Kraglin approach, until he’s in front of you. “Er, are you okay?”

You look up and stare at him, “Have you got any food around here and a shower?”

The man nods and points down the corridor, “I can take you to my quarters – you can shower there then I’ll show you the kitchen. I think the chef has leftovers you can have.”

You push off from the wall and limp after the tall man as he walks slowly so you can keep up. You can’t wait to rid yourself of the muck covering your body. And maybe change into some fresh clothes.

Once at Kraglin’s quarters, he points to the bathroom and hurries from the room with an alarmed look as you start stripping right there. You remove the bandages carefully and lay them out on his bed, knowing you’ll just have to reuse them afterwards.

Stepping into the odd looking shower, you revel in the feeling of hot water hitting your skin and watch as the blood and grime turn the water a murky red colour as it flushes down the drain.

Once done, you rummage through Kraglin’s clothes and borrow a jacket and pants. You try on a pair of his boots – they’re slightly too large for your feet, but you shrug them on anyway. You reapply the ointment the man had given to you and then redress the wounds before covering them with the pants and jacket. You don’t bother to grab a top; the jacket comfy enough against your bare flesh. You at least have your bra on underneath it, so you’re not completely naked aside from it.

When you’re all done, you exit his living quarters and cock your head at the man. “Kitchen now?”

Nodding, Kraglin begins walking down another corridor, eyeing you every now and then.

When you reach the kitchen, you quickly drop down onto one of the chairs and sigh in relief. You are wearing fresh clothing, and this is just adding to the luxury.

Kraglin moves around to gather some leftovers, which he then places beside you with some sort of yellow liquid. You don’t bother to question it as you gulp it down and demand more. Shovelling food into your mouth, you don’t notice the incredulous look Kraglin gives you.

When you’re done, you lean back in the chair with a full stomach and wonder when the last time you had had a good meal was. You had always stolen more food from the slavers, but you think this is truly the first time in a decade you’ve eaten so well.

You smile dryly to yourself and burp loudly.

Kraglin’s eyes widen as he gawks at you.

Only then do you notice the look he’s giving you. “What?” you ask, trying not to snap at him. He’s been nice so far, and maybe, just maybe, he could eventually help get this collar off you.

“N-nothing,” he stammers. “It’s just … never seen a girl like you.”

“Terran?” you question.

“No, well, yes-”

“Kraglin, we’re landing now, so get your ass to the control room.”

You both turn and watch as the blue man saunters into the kitchen and sculls the rest of your drink. He snatches a piece of fruit from your plate and gives you a quick glance before following Kraglin out of the room.

You don’t bother to move as you look out the window and see the white snowy ground outside.

There’s a ruckus from the ship’s hangar as the Ravagers hustle out of the ship only moments after it lands with a jolt.

Yondu soon appears at the entrance of the kitchen and whistles at you. “Get up girly, I’ve got a job for you.”

That was quick, you think to yourself.

You bite the inside of your cheek and slowly slide off the chair, following after the blue man as fast as you can. You try to hide your limp as you trail behind him. He walks down the hangar ramp and through the thick snow without slowing at all.

You hurry behind him and look around you. After all your travels, you’ve never visited this planet. “Where are we?”

“Contraxia,” Yondu replies, not bothering to look at you.

You soon notice the prostitutes and other Ravager factions as you near an establishment named ‘Iron Lotus.’  

Wrinkling up your nose, you square your shoulders as you follow closely behind the blue Captain. You can feel and see the other Ravagers turning to watch you as you pass them and head into the building.

Yondu walks over to the bar and orders two drinks. He motions for you to sit on one of the stools and you do so gratefully. When the bartender pours the drinks and leaves, Yondu scans the other patrons before leaning in close and telling you carefully, “Now, there’s a man in here, to your left – big guy with a red face.”

Slowly and subtly, you cast a look in the direction Yondu is telling you, and spot the large, pudgy red faced man sitting in one of the booths. A yellow robotic woman is seated on his lap.

You curl your lip in disgust as Yondu continues, “Now, I need you to go over there and talk to him. Maybe buy him a drink or two. Then, when he looks ready, sit on his lap, distract him and steal his ring. The big pretty one.”

“Steal his ring?” You give the blue man an incredulous look. “Right here? Without him noticing?”

“Yes. You do this, and I’ll keep you around. Otherwise, I could always sell you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask him, “What’s it worth?”

Yondu seems reluctant to tell you, but slowly says, “Forty thousand units. Fat bastard stole it from a client who really wants it back. . . but if I sell it to a collector, could get a hundred thousand instead.”

You smile at that. “You’re loyal to the money, huh?”

A dark look passes through Yondu’s eyes before he moves away from you and points at you with a serious expression, “I’m going upstairs with one of these lovely whores and you’re going to get me that ring, got it?”

Smiling mockingly at him, you reply, “Yes daddy.”

You turn away before seeing the dark look Yondu gives you.            


Part 4.

The ‘two’ drinks Yondu was talking about, turned into five entire bottles of some sort of bright green alcohol. You barely had one glass; managing to keep the man-creature talking so much, he didn’t realise how much you had truly been drinking.

When you thought he was drunk enough, you had sidled over to him and was now seated on his large lap.

You have to keep yourself from shrinking back in revulsion as his grubby fingers run over your back and grope your ass every so often.

“And I said to him: ‘If you want it back-’”

You lean forward and run your hands down his chest and then down his arms, hushing him as you do so. “Do you want to go upstairs?” you whisper beside his sweaty ear.

The man inhales your scent deeply and nods.

Slowly sliding off him, you pull on his hands and slip the ring off quickly. The man doesn’t even notice as you touch his face and begin heading towards the staircase. He follows behind you and runs into you when you stop abruptly at the bottom step.

You turn back to him and place a hand on his chest, “Actually, can you grab a room and I’ll be back shortly? I’ll bring up a few good bottles for us, okay?”

The red faced man nods emphatically and squeezes past you, almost tripping on the stairs in his hurry to find a room.

Slipping the ring into your bra – which you had purposely left on display to grab the man’s attention in the first place, you walk out of the brothel and back towards the ship. However, this time, a group of Ravagers steps in front of you.

They’re not from Yondu’s ship from what you can tell, and you instantly tense up. Your leg is still painful, but you’re ready to fight if need be.

One spiny faced man leers at you, “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

He’s taller than you by at least a foot, but you square your shoulders and tilt up your chin. You’ve had enough with men wanting a piece of you – from your days in slavery to these disgusting Ravagers and aliens.

You go to reply, when one of the Ravagers notices the collar around your neck. “She’s a pet,” he coos. “Did you lose your master, darling?”

Smiling brightly at the creature, you walk up to him and slide a hand down his chest. Earlier, you had noticed the large knife in his belt, and with every fibre in your body, you wanted it. You wanted to slice open his throat for disrespecting you just as every other male in your life ever had.

The Ravager watched you with interest. Apparently there was a huge difference between one of the robotic prostitutes and a Terran like yourself.

Smiling still, you quickly pull his knife from the belt and run it across his neck. Not too deep, but deep enough for the skin to split.

The man chokes and stumbles backwards, gripping his neck. He won’t die if he’s seen too promptly.

The other Ravagers buddies growl and go to pull out their weapons when they look behind you with wide eyes.

Slowly, you turn around to see the blue man sauntering over to you with only his pants and jacket on. You try not to stare at his bare torso as he focuses on the group of male creatures and whistles again. The first whistle had either been too far away for you to hear, or you had been too distracted to hear it earlier.

The arrow points at one of the Ravagers who backs away quickly and arcs around the blue man, heading back to the brothel quickly. His buddies follow – including the man you nicked across the throat. You’re still tightly gripping the knife as Yondu gives you a slow once over – eyes lingering on your cleavage.

He snaps his attention back to your face and whistles to his arrow. The arrow does a wide twisting display before the captain catches it mid-air – showing off to you for some reason.

“Did you get it?” he asks, adjusting his pants as he does so.

You roll your eyes and pull it out of your bra, “There.”

A hint of pride lights his ruby red eyes as Yondu shoots you a sharp, toothy grin, “Well done, girly.”

You grunt, still weary of him of course and squish any happiness his words bring you.

You really going to act all mushy because he told you ‘well done?’ you question yourself with disgust.

Shaking your head, you look past Yondu as the rest of his crew slowly make their way towards you two.

Yondu then brushes past you, his fingers brushing against yours accidentally. Well, that’s what you tell yourself.


Part 5.

Limping back to the ship, you toss Yondu as he waits for you at the entrance of the hangar. He inspects the ring with a grin and walks off down a corridor.

The rest of the crew filter into the ship and walk off in different directions, leaving you standing there in the hangar. With a quiet sigh, you touch the collar around your neck once more. It’s thin and not too tight, but it reminds you of the collar the slavers had once made you wear. Is this situation any different?

Pursing your lips, you look down at the knife you’re still holding in your left hand and wonder if it can cut through the collar.

“You’ll cut yourself before you cut through that collar,” a voice says nearby.

Looking up, you see Kraglin standing there with some clothes and boots in his hands. “They’re for you,” he says, holding them out. “Cap’ found them in one of the storerooms. They should fit you better than my clothes,” he jokes.

You slip the knife into your waistband and walk over, taking the clothes and shoes, thanking him quietly as you do so.  

The Ravager nods and points down one of the corridors, “Uh, Cap’ said I should show you to your room. Said you deserved a proper room away from all us men.”

Snorting, you follow behind Kraglin as he leads you down a dead-end corridor and opens the last door. He steps aside and lets you take in the room that’s to be yours.

It’s plain and nothing special, but just as that thought is passing through your mind, Kraglin adds, “Cap’ said you can make it yours with whatever you want to steal.”

Smiling, you ask, “Do you Ravagers ever buy anything?”

The man shrugs, “Mostly alcohol.”

Chuckling, you watch as Kraglin slowly backs out of the room and jerks his thumb down the corridor, “You’re welcome to join us for dinner later if you like; I think the chef’s making a roast or somethin’.”

Seeing you nod, the slim Ravager turns and disappears down the corridor, leaving you in the room, you begin stripping out of Kraglin’s clothes and pull on the new ones. They’re women’s clothing and you smile as the leather and fabric hug your body perfectly.

You then fold Kraglin’s clothing and swap the boots over. The new boots have a slight heel and lace half way up your calves – they’re much nice than anything else you’ve worn in galaxy knows how long.

Lying down on the plain bed, you curl up on your side and close your eyes, suddenly feeling tired.

You don’t realise you’d fallen asleep for a few hours, but once you wake up, you quietly wander the corridors in search of the kitchen.

Eventually, you can hear the loud gruff voices of the pirate crew and follow it to the kitchen and common area.

A few of the Ravagers look up and eye you, but you ignore them as you grab a plate, load it with food and grab some cutlery.

You turn back to the men and the blue captain instantly draws your attention as he waves you over. Kicking out a chair to the right of him as he sits at the head of the table, he whistles at you, “C’mon ‘ere, girly.”

You bite this inside of your cheek, but take the offered seat and dig into your meal once settled on the metal chair.

You can feel Yondu’s eyes on you as you eat, but ignore them.

Eventually however, you turn to him and shoot him a look, “What?”

He takes a sip from his glass and says slowly, “We’re landing tomorrow on Xandar, and there’s some things you might want to steal while we’re there on business. As long as you don’t try and take that collar off, girly.”

Snorting softly, you quirk a lopsided smile, “No worries, old man.”

“Old man, huh?”

You shrug, “Just telling it how I see it.”

The blue man looks at you a while longer, before cracking a sharp toothed smile and leaning back in his seat. “You’re a mouthy Terran, aren’t you?”

“And how would you know? Seen many Terrans?”

Yondu purses his lips, “A few. Picked up one a while back and kept him for a while.”

You snatch the half full drink from his hand and scull it. The Ravager waits for you to finish before he asks, “How did you end up with slavers?”

It’s not a question you want to answer, but you inhale deeply, trying to settle your emotions as you reply, “Got picked up when I was sixteen. Spaceship got me in the corn field. Cliché, huh?”

The man looks at you, not understanding the reference.

Looking away, you shove the last mouthful of food into your mouth and stand up. Your leg radiates pain as you limp over to the sink, dump your dishes and start heading out of the room. Why am I even telling him this? You ask yourself. Fuck. Why?

The memories are there, and they’re not something you want to relive in front of the Ravagers.

“Hey girly.”

Pausing in the doorway, you look over your shoulder at Yondu as he sits sprawled out in his chair. He waits a few moments before telling you, “Don’t think about ‘em slavers no more, got it? That ain’t your life no more. You’re here now, with us Ravagers.”


Part 6.  

(Four months later)

“How come you ain’t never tell me you can’t shoot?!”

You growl and cross your arms over your chest as Yondu paces.

While the crew had gone off to do some gambling and whoring around, Yondu had taken you along to meet with a client. The deal should have gone smoothly, but you hadn’t been as careful this time, and the client had caught you trying to steal some of his valuables while Yondu tried to sell him and his buddies some sort of high-tech contraption he had stolen.

Yondu had given you a gun just in case anything turned awry, but that didn’t mean you knew how to use it. Not that you’d tell him; you have your own pride to look after.

And that’s when everything had gone tits up and you had both run out of there after a small gun fight. Yondu hadn’t even bothered trying to kill the client and his buddies with his arrow – he didn’t need them coming after him later down the track for revenge.

The two of you had run down the alleyways and streets until you lost the other aliens and headed back to the ship.

Now, you two were in the ship’s hangar and Yondu was losing it.

“They were going to pay four hundred thousand units for that thing! And what do you do?” he growls, pointing at you.

You roll your eyes but don’t bother to reply as he continues, “You fucked it up for me! What were you tryna steal anyway? Huh?”

Slowly pulling the necklace from your pocket, you shrug, blasé. “Just thought this would be valuable to you. Maybe you could sell it for a decent price?”  

Yondu’s eyes brighten and his lips pull back in a grin. He chuckles and takes the shiny necklace from your hands. He inspects it closely before slipping it into his pocket. “Good work, girly.”

You huff and hand him back the gun also. “You can have this back; I prefer hand to hand combat.”

The blue man’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “Uh-uh. I’m teaching you how to shoot, girly. You’re a Ravager now – and a Ravager must know how to shoot.”

Sighing, you follow as Yondu walks off down towards the shooting gallery. The walls there were thickened and could handle most gun blasts.

Once there, Yondu grabs your arm and pulls you into the middle of the room. He sets up a dummy target furthest from you and saunters back over.

“Hold that gun and shoot. We’ll see how bad you are.”

You death glare him, but square your shoulders, hold the gun out and aim at the dummy. You take three shots, but miss by a long shot each time.

Yondu laughs at you and steps up to you. He positions your arms properly, tweaks your shoulders and then grabs your hips. You shoot him a glare as he changes your posture slightly and tells you to shoot once more.

His hands hover near your hips as you suck in a deep breath and pull the trigger.

This time, the blast skims past the dummy and hits the wall.

“That’s better,” Yondu comments, sounding impressed.

He shifts your shoulders to the right minutely, then adjusts your hips again. His hands linger a little longer this time as you inhale again, and fire.

The blast hits the dummy square on and you step back, smirking. Only, as you step backwards, you back up into Yondu’s chest.

Almost instantaneously, you step away from him and chew your bottom lip. Yondu looks at you expressionlessly for a moment then opens his mouth to tell you something before Kraglin rushes in.

The man’s eyes are wide as he pants, “Ah, Cap’ there’s some men outside looking for you and they don’t look happy.”

Yondu grunts before stalking out of the room with Kraglin. “Everyone on board?” he asks his First Mate as they walk towards the bridge. You follow a few feet behind, the gun now holstered against your hip.

Once there, Yondu settles himself down in his chair and you watch as both men start the ship’s engines and peel away from the dock.

As the ship pulls away, you look out the window and see the men from earlier, storming between the establishments, roughly handling patrons at the bars.

“They were looking for us?” you ask Kraglin.

He turns to you and nods, “Yeah, said you stole something from them.”

You smile and the man asks you, “Did you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you reply slyly.


Part 7.

“You coming in?” Yondu asks you as he slips on his coat.

You look up from sharpening your knife – the one you had stolen from the spiny faced alien months ago. It’s become a prized possession to you; something you never leave the ship without. “We on Contraxia again?”

You hate the planet – or more specifically, the brothels there. Sleazy Ravagers always trying to grope you or get in your pants while Yondu and his crew have their fun with the sexbots.  

“Yeah, girly.”

Seeing your scowl, Yondu adds, “Come sit with me in a booth, huh? My shout.”

You snort in disbelief, “What, no bots this time?”

The blue man shoots you a grin and raises an eyebrow playfully, “I think I can manage without this one time.”

With a heavy sigh, you secure the blade to your thigh and stand up. Yondu’s eyes wander down your body briefly before you both leave the bridge and exit the ship, walking over to one of the brothels.

Once inside, you both slip into a booth and order four bottles of Yondu’s favourite alcohol.

Instead of using the glass the waitress leaves for you, you pop one of the bottles open and drink straight from it. The blue man smirks at you and does the same.

“So, any more men you need me to distract?” you ask mockingly.

Yondu shoots you another one of his famous sharp toothed grins, “Why don’t you just relax and watch that little bird up there sing?”

He motions to the small stage where a purple alien woman is singing melodically.

The two of you are silent for a few of the alien’s songs, before Yondu asks you, “What can you remember of Terra?”

Sipping the bright yellow liquid, you look up at the ceiling in thought. Does it really matter what I remember? I can’t change anything – can’t go back to my parents. Can’t see how Earth has changed in the past decade without me. Can’t see how my parents have changed without me there. Have they moved on? Maybe I have a sibling now and I’ll never know.

Rubbing your temple, you pass your gaze over the blue man as he watches you intently and focus on the purple alien up on stage instead. “We had a dog. I can remember that. And a horse I think. My mother was always smiling and singing around the house – she was always working on the farm with my dad while I went to school.”

Drinking some more, you frown in concentration. “There isn’t much more than that. I can barely remember what my parents looked like or what our house,” you add quietly.

As the purple alien finishes her song, you look at Yondu and ask, “So, what about you then?”

You’d never asked him about his past before – but had always guessed he he’d never want to talk about it. For some reason, you think this occasion will be different.

The Ravager shrugs with indifference as he says, “Not much to say; parents sold me to the Kree. Was a battle slave for twenty years before I was freed and taken in by the Ravagers. Been a Ravager ever since.”

“And that arrow of yours?”

“My Yaka arrow?”

“Is that what it’s called?” you ask more so to yourself, with raised eyebrows.

“Do you even know what I am?” he asks you, lips quirking up at the corners.

Most of your time had been spent on slaver ships, so you’ve never really been exposed to the different alien species in the vast galaxies.

When you shake your head, Yondu says, “Centaurian.”

It doesn’t mean anything to you, but you nod and lean back in the booth as your eyes run over the other aliens in the bar area of the establishment. “How many species would you say you know?” you ask curiously.

Yondu scans the room and shrugs, “Maybe half?”

Humming, you stretch your legs out and feel your right leg ache under the table. Wincing slightly, you reach under the table and try to rub your leg. Ever since it had been wounded, it had never healed right.

Noticing this, Yondu, who’s seated across from you, reaches under the table and pulls your leg onto his thighs. He’s already nearly through his second bottle.

You freeze momentarily, before trying to take your leg back. The blue man grips your ankle and shoots you a look, “It’s sore, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” you drawl, apprehensive.

He nods, “Then let me help.”

Pursing your lips, you nervously drink as Yondu pressed his fingers into your knee and kneads your sore leg. After a few minutes, you relax and sink lower into the seat, letting your leg slip further onto the man’s hard thighs. It isn’t too awkward as over the past few months, you’ve grown comfortable around the big blue idiot.

Finishing off your first – and only – bottle, you tilt your head back and moan quietly at how good the massage feels. His large hand is warm as it slides along the underside of your knee, the warmth of his palm reaching your skin through the fabric of your pants.

Yondu gives you a cocky grin while your eyes are closed and finishes off his second bottle in a few more swigs. He’s usually quite buzzed by his second … and handsy as you’re about to find out.

“That good, huh girly?” he asks you, his voice slightly gruffer than usual.

You hum at him, your eyes still closed. “Can you just be my personal massage man?”

Yondu chuckles and goes to say something when Kraglin walks over and slips into the booth seat beside you. You go to take your leg back from the Ravager, but Yondu grips your thigh to keep you in place as his First Mate begins talking.

“I overheard some of the other Ravager factions talking about a cargo ship that’ll be docking in one of the Kree provinces. It’s a big payday apparently,” Kraglin leans over the small table to tell his captain.

Yondu’s fingers go back to massaging your leg – this time, moving slightly higher up your thigh. You stare at him, trying to get him to look at you so you can glare at him properly, but the blue man pretends he doesn’t notice as he leans back in the seat. “When’s it landing?”

Kraglin rubs his hands together as he replies, “In two days they said.”

“And is anyone goin’ for it?”

“No ones stupid enough,” Kraglin laughs. 

The blue man grins, his eyes lighting up at the thought of a good haul. “Enjoy the girls and alcohol then, boy. Tomorrow we got work to do.”

Nodding to his captain and yourself, Kraglin slinks off as Yondu pops the cap off the last bottle on the table and begins drinking it.

He offers it to you, but you turn it down as you look out over the bar. His hand is still on your leg under the table, but it’s slowed to just resting half way up your thigh.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly.

Yondu smiles innocently at you, “Drinking. What else, girly?”

A sexbot saunters past, batting her eyes at Yondu and sashaying her hips. He watches her with a small grin and you narrow your eyes at him. The more he usually drinks, the more lewd he becomes.

“You can hang back in the ship while the rest of the crew take over the Kree ship, alright?”

You growl at him in shock and frustration, “Why? And I not good enough?”

“Now, now, girly, I don’t need ya getting hurt for no reason.”

“Hurt?” you splutter. “Hurt? When did I become a princess?”

Yondu eyes you carefully, “Never said that. Just don’t need the Kree getting ya.”

“I want my share. I know how this works; I don’t join in, I get nothing. I’m not stupid.”

“What do you need the units for, huh girly?”

You jerk your leg back under the table to your side of the booth and snarl at him. He’s patronising me, isn’t he?                                                                                

“Well then?” he presses, wanting to hear your answer.

To get a fucking ship and get out of here – to go home.                              

Instead of telling him the truth, you change the subject, “You never told me how to get this collar off. I want to know.”

The blue man laughs at you. He’s half way through the third bottle of alcohol. “Need this key,” he almost sings, pulling up a chain from around his neck which a small key is dangling from.

You eye it as he slips it back under his clothes and pats his chest. “And you ain’t getting that any time soon.”

“Why not?” you growl, crossing your arms over your chest. The Ravagers have been treating you quite well since you boarded their ship all those months ago, but you still want to go home to Earth. It’s where you belong.

“Still need you. ‘Make a good distraction when we dealin’ with horny bastards.”

Feeling your anger simmer, you curl your upper lip at him. When Yondu looks away, seemingly disinterested in the direction of the conversation, you clench your teeth.

Oh no, two can play this asshole game, you think angrily. Slowly, you slide your leg over to Yondu and push it between his legs. His half-lidded eyes shift over to you with mild interest as your foot slowly rubs his groin under the table. You’ve been mastering the art of distracting men since Yondu started making you steal for him. Sometimes you’ll chat up a wealthy business man at a bar and distract him with some flirting while Yondu and the crew break into his spaceship or home and steal as much as they can.

And now it was time to turn the tables on your ‘boss.’

Fucking prick, you mutter to yourself as you pretend to focus on the purple alien woman singing up on the stage still. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour as you do this, but you know Yondu won’t remember any of it come morning. He’ll end up drinking about five bottles of his favourite alcohol in total and will most likely slip away for some ‘nookie nookie’ as he likes to put it.

Yondu drinks some more and shifts in the booth seat as your foot continues to rub.

“What are you doing, girly?” the blue man asks you, his voice gruff and eyes darkening.

“Actually,” you quip, “I’m going back to the ship. Had enough of this bloody bar and the men in it.”

Removing your foot suddenly and sliding out of the booth, you storm out of the bar. The teasing was your revenge, and it gives you such satisfaction to hear him growl behind you as you leave him in that booth.

Exiting the establishment, your eyes scan the crowds of Ravagers outside and land on the aliens you had run into the first time you had left the Iron Lotus.

The spiny faced alien you had nicked across the through sees you and bares his teeth. You rest a hand on your knife – well, his knife originally – and the Ravager backs up a step, despite standing about thirty feet away with his buddies.

Briefly smirking to yourself, you stalk back to the ship and head to your room. You’re frustrated at Yondu and the entire situation, but until you can find a way to remove the tracking collar from around your neck, Yondu will ways know where you are.

To be continued…..

Okie dokie, I feel really weird asking this but I still have such a large backlog of retextures to post.

Would anyone be willing to take some preview pictures for me? It would be a huge favour and I would be so grateful. Even if you can just do a few hairs, it would be amazing and would help me so much! 

If you would be able to help me out, just send me a message or ask with how many hairs you’d be willing to do (and any other preferences you have, like for gender or creator or whatever) and I’ll send you a link to the hairs.


Root x Shaw | The Intensity Of Their Gaze In The Most Intimate Moment…

…Speaks Volumes.

Shaw’s Emotional Vulnerability x Root’s Steadfast Reassurance

That is why Root is Shaw’s SAFE PLACE….

…Consciously AND Subconsciously.


A little diddy I wrote for Thanksgiving, bc I’m so thankful for all of you!
Hope you guys like it <3

Title: Thankful
Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Summary: Peter stops by your place for some patching up and has an impromptu Thanksgiving
Word Count: 981
Warnings: food mention, bruises, cuts, stitches

Your name: submit What is this?

             It’s some ungodly hour in the morning when you hear the familiar sound of your balcony door sliding open. The footsteps trail into the living room and the lights flicker on. You get out of bed, still in your pajamas, and walk out of your room to a familiar sight.

           You follow the routine, grabbing the first aid kit. Spider-Man sits on a chair in your dining room table, gashes on his arms and chest. He’s already cleared a space on the table for you to work on. You take a seat beside him, immediately getting to work.

           "You’re a bit later than usual,“ you told him in a teasing tone. "I’d actually gotten a few hours of sleep.”

           He laughs sheepishly, barely flinching when as you disinfect the cuts.

           "Sorry,“ he apologizes, voice sincere. "Tonight was rougher than usual.”

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anonymous asked:

Are you on cloud 9 with this subscribers milestone?! I am sooo excited for you... Heres to more subscribers, even double.

I’m mostly in a state of “wtf? Really?” I’m just surprised, I guess. Never thought my channel would go anywhere, and I’m grateful that people dig my content. Makes me feel all special an’ shit.

Egg Jr. (Part 2)

((You can now read this over at ArchiveofOurOwn here.))

Saitama idly lamented the fact that his ability to deal with Genos’s overbearing personality didn’t seem to be genetic.

 While he’d never put much thought into it, he supposed the Demon Cyborg could be kind of frightening to a child barely over three feet in height. And even if Genos was generally agreeable when it came to Saitama, his attitude towards others left much to be desired (not that Saitama really felt pressured to correct him on the matter: Genos was nineteen, he should exploit his chance at rebellious temperament), and he’d spooked Sho a fair deal during their first meeting.

 He pondered if he should be grateful for it, considering the kid had all but become glued to his side in his haste to get out of Genos’s view, when he’d hardly seemed willing to shake his hand when they were first introduced.

 It’s probably not a good thing, he decided when he had to physically pry the kid off his flank for lunch, plopping him on the side of the table and hoping his fear of Genos would abate now that the cyborg had seemingly accepted Sho’s presence in the apartment. A plate of steaming gyudon and pink plastic chopsticks were placed gently in front of him, but when he went to (probably) thank the cook for it, just a glance at the cyborg’s face had him clamming up and sitting in the straightest posture Saitama had ever seen (barring Genos’s seiza, of course).

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*hides face* I’m sorry, I wrote a thing that wasn’t prompted, I couldn’t help myself!

Hope someone enjoys it, promise I’m getting through allll the prompts, no matter how long it takes me!

It’s just something I wrote because the whole, “Pliskin survived the explosion with help from a friend” thing was beckoning me to write something sappy. And I did. So here’s Otacon patching up Snake after he gets his ass knocked out. I like to imagine Snake is a big grouchy kitten about getting patched up. Set directly after Shell 2 blows up in MGS2.

*burrows back into trashcan*

Knocked Around

Otasune, PG-13

(Warnings for: Mild Violence, Blood, Bleeding, Injury, Etc.)


Snake hadn’t exactly told him to head towards the blast site. In fact, it would be reasonable to assume that, given an appropriate amount of time, he probably would have done that thing where he yelled at Otacon to stay put under any circumstances.

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It seems like Foxy wanted to thank you personally, donitkitt lmao!

Also, I just want to say that your words mean so much to me, I appreciate them immensely. I know i don’t say this enough, but i truly am grateful that people dig my designs/art, and super cute messages like yours always puts a big ol’ smile on my face and keeps me motivated! (which is a big deal for me)

So, really, thank you very much for being so sweet~ =‘)

It's Just Us

a s10 wincest reunion fic, post-10.03. starts out really emotional but ends up fully nc17, bottom!sam. enjoy. AO3

Dean had been lounging on his bed, his eyes closed, ankles crossed, and head tilted back, when Sam had quietly slipped in, dropping a bag full of food from Dean’s favorite local burger place. He’d mumbled something about Dean not eating for a long time, apologized for nothing, and slipped back out through the door, which was only open a fraction.

Sam was a lot skinnier and beaten down than the last time Dean had seen him human, and it was like seeing him again for the first time. This Sam looked at him with recent grief weighing him down, with widening eyes that said It’s actually him before they slid to the floor and Sam would scurry out before Dean could ask him to stay. Dean felt guilty- which felt new, even though it wasn’t- that he had all this food on his lap. He should be giving some to Sam. Sitting next to him in the bunker’s kitchen and trading small sentences, building up a trust.

But he couldn’t get himself to move. It was like all the really human emotions, the ones that actually meant anything, had built up when he was a demon and now the dam was broken. There was an ache inside him that he didn’t know how to heal. Every once in a while his mind would wander and he’d remember one more thing, one more terrible action against someone or even worse, against Sam and the pressure on his chest would build. After a few stretching minutes he finally dug into the bag, and forgot about his tsunami of worries when he took the first bite of the burger, extra onions. He looked to the roof and thanked Sam, not God, digging in, grateful for the distraction.

After that it was obvious he had to do something or Sam would keep slipping through his fingers, keep slimming and fading away to nothing. These past few weeks for him had been nothing but punches to the gut, words and actions meant to cut. Dean ran a hand through his hair- he would get Sam to cut it later- and stood up arthritically, stretching and cracking his back. He looked around his room, at the pictures on his nightstand, and chided himself for procrastinating. This was Sam. There was only one thing Dean could do, wanted to do, and that was be with his brother. He stepped into the hallway and looked into Sam’s bedroom– empty and still devoid of personal effects. Dean’s room had looked exactly as he’d left it but he had an unwavering suspicion Sam had spent his time in it. Dean strode through the hallway into the main room and there was Sam, sitting at one of the tables and sipping from a beer. Three empty bottles surrounded him. His phone was in his hand, but he was motionless.

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User Account Control

(( I think about it too… ))

“You’ve input the wrong symbol again.”

Alfred stopped, fingers pausing over the flat panel that served as his keyboard, the letters upon it a translucent, light blue. He peered up at the screen, scrutinizing his own code. Finding the errant symbol, he muttered a curse and corrected it.

“See, this is why you shouldn’t program while you’re tired. You make too many mistakes.”

“Shut up, Art’.” Alfred commanded absent-mindedly. It was useless, however. Arthur had already become self-aware enough to have found his own command systems and disabled them. That should have bricked his control box, but the whole thing was still functioning and Alfred hadn’t really thought it all that necessary to figure out why.

That didn’t make the A.I. any less annoying.

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looking in your eyes (i can see forever)

Rating: T (for language)
Words: 5,355
Read it here on AO3!

A/N: Full disclosure: I am basically not paying attention to season 3, so this is set sometime in the future. Assume everything after Bellamy’s attempt to rescue Clarke in Polis never happens. Bellamy and Clarke are out on a scouting mission when a blizzard hits. They get trapped together in the bunker and are forced to confront several things about their relationship. Angst, with a touch of fluff towards the end.

Special thanks to @kay-emm-gee​ for being my beta!

It’s not like Bellamy means to get them trapped in the bunker, okay. It’s not his fault that it’s the middle of the goddamn winter and the door is frozen shut. It’s also not his fault that Clarke fell in that snow pile because – okay, he nudged her, sure, but in his defense, she went down like a sack of potatoes.

So naturally, he did what anyone would do – he took her to the bunker because it was close, and she needed to get warm, or else she’d get hypothermia and also she’d yell at him.

“I… I can’t… believe… this,” Clarke says through chattering teeth, and he would laugh if he didn’t think she would murder him. Because, well, she looks cute all wrapped up in a blanket. Like a burrito. A cold, angry, cute burrito.

“I can’t control the weather, Clarke. Either we’re trapped in here or we probably would’ve gotten stuck in the storm out there.”

“I’m so cold,” she says, pitifully, and Bellamy’s heart lurches in that annoying way it’s been doing lately, especially annoying since he wants so badly to be mad at her. Things were a lot easier when he was mad at her.

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