every time I rewatch season three of daredevil i’m reminded what a bitchy little gremlin matty is
and why I relate to him so hard
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Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!
Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.
And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)
(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)
And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?
Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.
So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!
But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.
Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.
(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)
And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.
And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.
And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.
This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.
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dr bitchter
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Sano Manjiro, the most frustrating man to have a crush on
You learnt that Mikey punched a guy who asked you out. Mikey refuses to explain why. Both of you are dumbasses.
Tags: fluff, stupid shit, getting together, friends to lovers, fem bodied reader, smut at the end, it's him just eating you out sjsns, slight Dom/sub undertones because I can't help myself
Mikey was a dumbass.
In every sense of the word, he was a short fucking dumbass with a deep melodic voice and great hair. The biggest dumbass in the world. You wanted to punch him in the face and kiss him at the same time. Genuinely, you couldn’t stand that man. In no way could you imagine him ever being a good boyfriend. He’d suck at it-----
“Oi, Sano Manjiro.”
The man in question turned, face dead and eyebrow twitching.
“What?”
“Did you beat up the guy?
“I beat up a lot of guys.”
“The guy who asked me out.”
Mikey sat back with his palms on the ground and Toman jacket secured on his back. His hair had gotten long, a bit too long for his liking and he still hadn’t decided how to cut it. You’d already taken the liberty over the last few weeks to tie them in pigtails and braid them to your heart’s content. He’d just walk around like that without batting an eye.
“Yeah, he went out with one hit. You could do better.”
“Do you know who you are? The fuck. That could have killed him.”
“He isn’t in the hospital or anything.”
You turned around, not being able to take a look at your friend anymore than you needed to. Everyone around you stared with either pity or annoyance. Sanzu, Emma and Ken-chin were utterly done with Mikey’s dumbassery and Chifuyu was done with yours. Baji and Kazutora were done with both of you. They just always choose the stupid people as friends.
“You weren’t gonna say ‘yes’ were you?”
And you weren’t. The boy had very bravely confessed his feelings for you (unlike some people) and before you could even tell him your answer, he’d told you to think about it at least. You’d appreciated it and left at that, already planning on saying no.
“Maybe I was, what’s it to you?”
“Oh my god,” Emma muttered out in agony.
"Maybe you should nurse him back to health then."
"Yeah I was already planning on it."
No you were not.
You left with an emphasis on your steps, back straight and eyes hard because you were stubborn. You didn't care if Mikey won at being the most stubborn person in the block, you would beat him at his own game.
♡
"You know he likes you. He has for years. He knows you like him. Just fuck already." Chifuyu moaned out, having gotten over the shoujo vibes very quickly after seeing the slow burn drag out.
"I dunno what you're talking about."
You wanted to deny it. Not deny that you were in love with Mikey but deny he was in love with you. Because admitting it meant hoping for something to happen and false hope got you hurt. People got close, they saw you in your humanity and ran away. The only people you trusted not to leave were your friends, Mikey included.
"Oh come on. I have given you a powerpoint presentation and a whole binder worth of evidence that Mikey likes you. I nearly got wiped out by Draken for taking one too many pictures."
You snorted. Chifuyu being a romantic buffoon with an overeager imagination made it harder for you to accept it. But you did acknowledge, not with the binder full of pictures and 'receipts', that Mikey had a soft spot for you.
You got close at 17, Mikey being an extroverted loud mouth and you being a shy but curious introvert. He took you on bike rides, talked to you while making eye contact, held your hand and pulled you next to him and you fed him bites of your food and let him sleep on your lap.
But you wanted to argue that….Mikey was just friendly like that.
It had been a few years before you noticed that Mikey rarely made eye contact with people while talking but always asked for your attention. You both were hopeless and were just waiting for the other one to confess. It was getting painful.
Chifuyu's eyes shifting to the side made you alert because he wasn't good at acting. And when he got up and ran, you knew who came inside.
"Hi, Captain! Bye, Captain!"
Mikey sat in front of you, dark bottomless eyes staring into your soul. You looked back at him, still pissed that he punched a perfectly nice guy. He then eyed your sundae and you immediately pulled it closer to you. He needed to learn that actions had consequences and that you weren't weak for him.
With a pout, Mikey placed his chin on his arms, splayed out on the table. It made you aware how broad he was, fingers nimble and boney and angular.
Pretty. Always so pretty.
"How's your boyfriend doing?"
Your teeth clicked and with a roll of your eyes, you established that Mikey needed to get pushed off a cliff somewhere.
"So you aren't gonna tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Mikey drawled out, looking up at you through his eyelashes.
"Why you punched an innocent dude."
"He pissed me off."
"Why?"
"Did you say yes?"
"Answer me first."
"I did."
You glared, taking a petty bite of your ice cream in retaliation. Mikey glared back harder, only changing when he looked out the corner of his eyes. You were about to turn your head before he spoke up again.
"It was an accident."
Your snort was loud and unattractive, hiding your face to try and compose yourself. When you looked up,Mikey's face had softened.
"I don't believe you."
"It's the truth. Answer my question."
You debated your options. Because maybe saying that 'yeah I want to date him' would be going too far considering it would be a lie. But admitting that you didn't meant even more probing questions. Like why you were annoyed at Mikey for punching someone you didn't wanna date.
"Why do you care?" You retaliated like a dumbass.
"You're pissing me off."
"Good."
There was another pause. Mikey's hand moving to steal your bowl. You swerve it away from him with no chance of winning with his reflexes and the limited space. So your hand went to grab his wrist.
Your heart raced at immediate contact. You became all too aware of him. Aware of his delicate wrist, the muscle, the bone that jutted out, the blue veins against pale skin. You became aware of his reddened and bruised knuckles, his calluses and ripped cuticles. They were hands of a delinquent, that liked to grip things too tight and didn't mind rough surfaces and reveled in strenuous activity. They were big too, too big against your own hand and too rough for your soft skin.
And they were warm, soaking into you to leave a lasting impression.
Mikey let go of the bowl in favor of holding your arm, gentle and all encompassing. His thumb rubbed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form and a shiver to run down your spine.
"I was fighting with Takemitchy. The dude got caught in the crossfire. My hand landed on his face by accident. I can show you Mitchy as proof. He still looks run down. Even I took a few hits."
You saw. Saw the scratches on his face and the redness of his jaw. It made you want to chide him for not bandaging himself. But he always liked it when you did it. Your eyes couldn't meet his, staring at your fingers wrapped around his wrist and his thumb rubbing your skin.
"You need to stop fighting in public settings."
"It wasn't that bad. A tire or two got thrown around but that's about it."
"Where did you--- not gonna ask."
Mikey giggled, soft and gravelly. You were reminded that the years changed his voice in a way that was still his. There was a pause and you realised the question eating away at you wouldn't go away until you asked it. The secret you kept wouldn't help being hidden away. You were tired and just wanted him.
"You know……I talked to the guy today. Went to meet him."
Mikey's eyes instantly hardened, looking away with a click of his tongue.
"Ah, did he tell you I knocked his brains out? You shouldn't date a liar."
"No," you tried to keep your voice casual, "he told me that it hurt but you weren't even looking at him when it happened. He just got too close."
"Then why did you ask---"
"He apologised though, said he didn't know I had a boyfriend."
Mikey’s lips tugged upwards, turning his head to the side so he could catch his composure. And you were ready to slap the shit out of him.
“Huh, I don’t know what gave him that impression. We must look good together.”
“I feel like you saying ‘that’s for asking my girl out’ after you hit him might’ve done the trick.”
Mikey held his hands up in surrender, knees knocking against yours almost to tease.
"I didn't hit him, I just repurposed the accident. Didn't want it to go to waste."
"Manjiro."
"What?"
"I'm not yours."
"Since when?"
"Since always!!"
His eyebrows furrowed, leaning back with a huge frown like you'd just told him his house burnt down.
"What the fuck?"
"You can't just make me yours without asking me first, asshat."
"Everyone knows you're mine."
"I dont."
Mikey took your hand, lips on the back of it as if it was a normal part of his day. But your breath hitched and you froze. Because oh---
"I found you first."
Your palms slammed against the table.
"If you wanna kiss me so bad then do it on my mouth, you coward---"
And within the next second, Manjiro’s mouth crashed into yours. It nearly knocked you back, if it wasn’t for his hand at the back of your head, curling into your hair. You whimpered against him, his lips tugging into a satisfied smirk.
Chifuyu had yelled out, “Fucking finally!!”
The sound of your lips parting away from each other was enough to make you want to lean back in. Your lips weren’t willing to move even an inch away from him. He tasted good. Like vanilla. And he had trouble keeping himself away from you as well, leaving chaste kisses on the corners of your mouth, fingers keeping your chin lifted up.
A throat was cleared, your cheeks instantly burned with the realisation of where you were. Mikey glared at the waiter who just let him know that it was time to leave. And with fingers interlocked, Mikey pulled you away from the diner, sticking out his tongue to Ken-chin who sighed in relief and leaned against Emma.
You got on his bike without question, heart racing because oh god--
The door to his room slammed open and he barely paid attention to anything with his arm around you. You giggled as he lifted you up and swirled you inside with a flourish. Once the door was shut, his laughter was loud and warm as his lips crashed into you, hungry for more. And you let him lead you, combing your hand through his hair causing him to shiver.
Mikey hugged you close, gentle in his touch and you let him swallow you whole and envelop you. When his tongue prodded against your lip, you parted them easily as if he didn’t even have to ask. And oh, he felt good.
But Mikey will spend the rest of your lives telling you that you were the best feeling in the world.
“Mine.” Manjiro murmured out, sucking on your lower lip so harshly that your whole body did a visceral shudder.
You were breathing hard when you parted, eyes hazy but daring as you looked your best friend in the eye.
“You still haven’t asked me, asshat.”
Manjiro growled, eyes narrowed and twitching. Your head and body threw itself back as you burst out laughing, feeling free because you knew Mikey’s arm would never let you fall. That led your neck to be exposed to the littering kisses Manjiro gave out of vengeance.
You squealed as it tickled and felt your knees give out against the bed beneath you. He’d backed you up, without you noticing, like a predator cornering its prey for a meal well earned.
You felt yourself sink into the soft mattress, hand reached out to tug his shirt down towards you. Manjiro just stared at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you didn’t understand and a grin so wide you could see all his teeth.
“Mine, in every timeline.” Mikey whispered.
And your breath hitched, speaking out without a second thought.
“Yours, in every universe.”
Manjiro’s eyes watered and he finally enveloped you, body a welcomed weight as he kissed you in slow languid bliss.
“Good baby,” he whispered and you whined out.
You pawed at him, liking the praise a little too much. Manjiro’s kisses left a wet hot trail as he went from your chin to your cheek. A wet sound heard every time his lips disconnected from you. You let him have his way, feeling his hand pat the side of your head.
You wanted to kiss him back but every time you tried, he clicked his tongue in disapproval and you just laid there as he poured his love into you. You had begun to tear up because Manjiro's love was overwhelming and it was for you.
Your eyes closed as his lips met your eyelids, tasting the salty tears and pulling back to inspect your face. You mewled at the lost contact, opening your eyes and pouting.
Oh, how dare he
He hushed you, hand patting your head again, lips continuing their venture on your face.
Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. And both of you became aware of the effect the intimacy had on you.
Manjiro pressed into you, hips solid and confident. And you felt his bulge against your pussy, only his pants and your underwear in the way. it was enough to drive you insane.
You yearned and yearned and begged with pretty fluttery eyes that had him breathless.
“Yeah? You wan’ me, honey?”
And despite the embarrassment, you nodded with the biggest pout you could muster. And Manjiro melted just at that, ready to burn the world for you if you asked him to. In another timeline, he probably had.
“Haven’t even been dating for a minute and you're already so needy.”
He didn’t even let you blubber out a complaint before your underwear was exposed to him. And you craved him so badly that your legs made space for only Manjiro. He appreciated it, boney fingers squeezing your hips before imprinting the memory of the wet patch into his mind.
Oh you were so sweet. A type of pliable that was only given to those you trusted.
“Not allowed to hide anything, okay?”
And with that, his nose traced the outline of your pussy, tongue peaking out for a taste that just wasn’t enough for you. Your thighs squished against his cheeks and he groaned, pressing his full mouth onto you. Your hips jutted upwards, a cry weak and wobbly escaping your lips. And with effort, you spoke.
“Stop teasing, jerk.”
The warmth was too much, you could feel him right there but the cotton was in the way. Despite your protest, he lapped you up out of greed. And your hands clutched onto his hair.
“If there’s nothing between us, I won’t be sane.” You heard him say and it just made you needier.
“Don’ want you to be. Please.”
And with that, his hand ripped your panties out of the way. Manjiro took a second to stare in awe at your pretty pussy. It was so wet, begging him to eat it out, practically drooling. Many thoughts went through his head.
How it would feel to be inside you, how warm it would be, if he could last long in the tightness? If he'd ever be able to survive without the taste of your pussy after this moment? If he gave your cunt a smack, would you like it?
Manjiro decided that keeping you waiting was the worst thing he could possibly do.
Mikey was a lot more hungry than he thought he was. Your pussy was engulfed in his mouth.
The direct contact was enough to make him moan. Your own got stuck in your throat, not realising how overwhelming it would be. When his tongue prodded inside, you let him guide your legs against your chest so that he could have more access. And then it plunged inside and you let out a warbled moan that felt too loud in your own ears. With a hand covering your mouth, you tried to suppress the little sounds tumbling out of you.
Manjiro’s middle finger tapped against the plush of your thigh and he pulled away with effort to say:
“No hiding. Be good.”
You cried out, flexing your fingers in his hair as he went back to the task at hand. And you let yourself voice out the feeling, soft “ah, ah, ah”s filling the air and causing you to tear up in embarrassment.
“Wan’ to be-be good for you.”
“Mhmmm,” He answered with the vibration of his hum shooting through your pussy and into your back that arched almost painfully.
The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing into you the second Manjiro’s mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked.
You didn’t even care how loud you were being, brain wiping out everything it had as your body arched and twitched. Manjiro only stopped lapping your cum when you flinched away, kissing your inner thigh before moving to you for a kiss.
You let him inside your mouth easily, whimpering and pawing at his shoulder as you held him close. You shook in his embrace, muttering out weak and tiny ‘thank you’s that had him chuckling at you.
“Did your Manjiro make you feel good, bubba?”
“Uh-huh.” You nodded, kissing the corner of his lips in appreciation.
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dialogue prompts that give off ~chaotic vibes~
!!please credit me if you use any!!
"you idiot. now we're gonna die."
"american cheese. shitty yet addicting. kind of like my exes."
"everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."
"careful. those aren't designed for idiots."
"tssk, tssk. what would jeff goldblum think of this?"
"if you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working."
"i'm about to say 'shut up' and if you respond with a ridiculously flirtatious 'make me' i will slap you."
"i congratulate you. to convince them is no small feat." *pause* "though you do have small feet."
"don't worry. it's not lethal. i think."
"hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt--fuck."
"no, but i can speak greek. είσαι σκατά." [you are shit.]
"can i? of course. will i? nah bro."
"we're gonna die and your tombstone will be engraved with 'death by dumbassery.'"
"i had a cat once. his name was stewart. i trained him in the fine art of jiu jitsu."
"what do you mean most people don't carry multiple knifes on them at once?? what if there's an attack?? or an urgent need to cut lettuce??"
"i swear to god if you post this on twitter i will steal your kidney."
"ok. fine. maybe i am a dumbass. but you gotta admit i'm a hot dumbass."
"ah, canada." (that's it. that's the prompt)
"is. is that a grenade."
"abso-fucking-lutely not."
"you know, this reminds me of the time i met the president."
"sometimes, your stupid astounds me."
"yeahhhh no. we're not doing that."
"is there actually anything in your skull or is it just dust and dumbass?"
"gordon ramsay is such a mood."
"this would be romantic if you weren't you and i wasn't me."
"most people just send a text, you know."
"goddammit. how many fucking beans did you spill."
"the world could be ending and you'd still find time to livetweet the imminent destruction of reality."
"you look like shit."
"i can kill a man with my bare hands but i can't unscrew this goddamn jar--"
extra challenges:
use all 31 in one work.
write one prompt every day for a month.
use a random number generator and write 500 (or any set number of) words, and only that amount of words.
to add some spice to #3, set a timer!
if you like these prompts, check out my prompt blog!!
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unwinding after a long day ft. luffy!
in which, after a long day, he comes right back to you <3
ft. luffy x fem!reader
set-up: its been a tiring day for him, good thing you're right here to offer your services (wink wink)
warnings: both sfw/nsfw headcanons for this dumbass; nsfw stuff includes penetration, cockwarming, raw!fucking (kids use protection pls 👍)
luffy:
sfw!!
- after a long, long day of eating, running around the deck with ussop, defeating like five sea kings, enduring 53628 kicks and punches from the crew (how is this man a captain is beyond me sometimes), luffy is bound to be tired
- you're laying on your bed post-dinner, absent-mindedly chipping away the nail polish
- you feel the mattress next to you dip lowly as he jumps next to you, face-first
- "ynn-" he's whining, wrapping his hands around you and intertwining his legs between yours, "ynnnnnn"
"hmm?" you hum, still busy picking apart the colour on your nails
"i'm so, so soooo tired"
a laugh escapes you, "really? is it due to all the running?"
and now he's pouting, "are you saying it's my own fault?"
- you peck his cheek, then flash him a grin, "how can i ever say that?"
- most of the nights, you silence him by giving him a massage
- you don't even think you're good at it but holy shit this boy is obsessed with getting a quick massage from you.
- and this has led to quite the number of misunderstandings.
"yn," he had asked you when the crew were eating dinner together, "can we do that thing at night? i really need it."
"WHAT THE FUCK-" nami is punching luffy in his guts, his food is being thrown out of his mouth and onto zoro, "WE ARE EATING."
- he meant massage.
- you knew it, he knew it. the rest of the crew? they assumed you were fucking (they aren't wrong, per se. they just didn't want to believe that all the sounds of bed creaking wasn't from you both jumping around, rip them)
- yeah ussop threw up and sanji fell to his knees and cried for like 57 mins because how did luffy manage to bag you???
- zoro hasn't spoken in two days from the shock of it (and the traumatic experience of having food spit on him) and nami has retired to her room for a whole business week, she is now only conversing by using chopper as her message carrier
- chopper is confused (poor bby 😭😭, he assumed it was massage or something and he is the only one who's correct)
- anyways, other than getting massages, sometimes he starts rambling on about something or the other till he falls asleep mid-conversation
- rest assured because he will continue whenever he wakes up
"where was i?" he's shaking you awake
"luffy" you groan, "it's like two am, go to sleep"
"oh right, so ussop told chopper than reindeers are called reigndeers because they used to be actual kings back in the ancient times and so rein means reign and not rain like most people as-"
he falls asleep again mid conversation
- tf are you supposed to do with this man??
- peak, sheer dumbassery even when he's tired
nsfw!!
- this man refuses to entertain one-sided favours
- your soft hands were kneading away the tension on his biceps a few minutes ago, so obviously he should return the favour back by massaging your back
- you refuse many times because as much as you love luffy, this man does not understand his own strength
- so you have a very valid fear that he would break your spine as he gives you a massage
- "this isn't fair, let me do it too ughh"
"how about no"
"okay then let me fuck you, you'd like that right?"
- didn't even blink twice plz 😭😭
- this dude is dead serious.
- he gotta make up to you for being such a sweetheart to him one way or the other
- that explains how he was pulling your top off, sucking sweetly on your tits, fingers gently rubbing over your clothed pussy
- that also explained how he pulled you onto his lap, slipping in his dick inside you, stretching you out with a loud moan
"you always take it so well, don'tcha?" he grins at you, tipping your head upwards and kissing you
- refuses to move tho.
- basically baited you into cockwarming him
- what a royal asshole.
- "what is it?" he coos when he feels your walls clamp down on him, your fingers desperately toying with your clit to get some sort of relief
"pl- pleasefuckme-" there's tears clinging onto your lashline, your lips are red from how long you've been biting and chewing on them
"hm?" he grins at your state, "what was that you said?"
"please-" your breath hitches as he thrusts into you suddenly
"fuck you?"
"go- god. fuck, yes"
his thrusts are merciless, pounding into you at a speed that has your overstimulated cunt spasming in seconds
- doesn't let you go till he feels like he's paid you back enough
"that was fun" he nuzzles into your neck, breathing slowly
"mhm" you feel yourself dozing off
he lays you down before snuggling into you and falling asleep
- will end up giving you a massage in the morning anyways
- although he can be just a little bit of a dick sometimes, there's no one you would rather unwind with
bonus!!
- ussop (while crying) had to relocate from his cabin to sanji's because the walls are really not that thick and he was next door
- "i can hear them-" ussop sniffled, standing at sanji's doorstep, "omg i can hear luffy-"
"ussop, you have to learn to face the horrors of the world." sanji spoke firmly, although his expression betrayed the confidence in his voice
- actually they both just cried and ate the secret stash of ice-cream sanji had saved up
- you and luffy need to pay for their therapy now im afraid 😃
zoro's part <3
sanji's part <3
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As someone who finds Anthony Bridgerton super relatable from a fed-up-eldest-sibling perspective. I want Julia Quinn to just give me a novella of Anthony descent into ultimate insanity from book 1 to 8
My Family an 8 book series by Anthony Bridgerton
Book 1: My best friend the traumatized Duke and my sister the one with the dubious understanding of the rules of consent and how they apply to baby making
Book 2: Falling inlove with Kate hoping my siblings absolutely do not follow my example of dumbassery, because even if my bad decisions are legendary I'm still right about all of them being idiots
Book 3: never make the mistake of thinking a sibling is well adjusted. Next thing you know he's seduced a maid, gone crying to mommy about his relationship issues and proposed to someone in jail
Book 4: Surviving Mr Bridgerton, lessons from my dumbass brother on how to end up as both lady Whistledown's sugar baby and Portia Featherington's son in law in one masterful session of stalking
Book 5: to sir Phillip with my apologies, how my sister managed to brainwash a man and two kids into naming her as their leader and I accidentally punched an innocent single dad for something that was wholy Eloise fault !
Book 6: The quiet one strikes back, see my most normal sister ruin her track record of cero scandals by bringing the Merry rake into the family. Using the excuse that what happens in Scotland stays in Scotland.
Book 7: felonies my little sister may need a lawyer for in her journey towards true love, breaking and entering, stealing private property, and the usual bribing of servants.
Book 8: I AM SO DONE. So Watch how Kate deals with my little brother's one man mission to top the entire family's track record for Mad shenanigans. While I comfortably hide in my study and scream.
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track 001. right where you left me
─── ❝ break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it ❞ ───
series masterlist // next
liked by louis_graham, isabellaperez, babs.rodriguez and others
dulceperez it's hell week and i'm struggling to cope
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isabellaperez never have i ever been more grateful for online school
↳ dulceperez we get it you travel for funsies and i get stuck with crippling student dept.
↳ isabellaperez what fucking debt? tio checo said he'd pay for your schooling!
↳ dulceperez alright then, i get the crippling student anxiety.
maejones you got this baby!
↳ dulceperez i really don’t! tell max to send the red bull i’m going to need it, i know you two are still besties!!
↳ maxverstappen1 did checo cut you off again?
↳ dulceperez YES!! SEND HELP!! SOS!!
louis_graham still can’t get over the fact that you know f1 drivers.
↳ dulceperez my uncle is an f1 driver?
↳ babs.rodriguez forget it lou, she won’t understand. she probably grew up around michael schumacher or something.
↳ isabellaperez well, you’re not wrong
mickschumacher if you die can i keep your couch?
↳ dulceperez what the fuck schumacher?
↳ mickschumacher it’s a very comfortable couch.
↳ freyavettel he’s right, it’s very comfortable. i’ve had some great fucking naps on it.
louis graham so the f1 drivers in your comments are just normal?
dulce perez pretty much, yeah
dulce perez we live in monaco, you're telling me you've never ran into like lewis or charles? hell nico lives in monaco.
barbara rodriguez never.
louis graham nope.
dulce perez huh, it's not like monaco's that big. i run into my ex all the time. granted he's like best friends with my sister.
barbara rodriguez who the fuck is your ex? and why is your sister best friends with him?
dulce perez because she can be? i'm not going to tell her "oh no isa, you can't be friends with arthur because we broke up."
dulce perez they were friends way before we dated.
louis graham so his name is arthur? interesting, one look at your sister's instagram tells me that you dated the one and only arthur leclerc.
barbara rodriguez a leclerc? you dated a leclerc? and you let him get away?
dulce perez look, he was busy with racing and i was busy with school. it wasn't going to work out between us so we just broke up.
louis graham interesting how you two still follow each other.
dulce perez we're still friends. that wasn't going to change because we dated.
barbara rodriguez 9 times out of 10, people fall in love all over again.
dulce perez not me. i won't.
dulceperez posted new stories
low quality picture, high quality girl or some fucking corny shit like that.
who the fuck gave this guy alcohol?
arthur leclerc does she have a boyfriend? who is he?
mae jones what is this nerd going on about?
isabella perez is this about my sister?
arthur leclerc forget i asked.
isabella perez so it is about my sister.
mick schumacher is this about the guy on her story?
isabella perez that's just louis. one of her roomates. remember arthur? they became friends when she started school.
arthur leclerc oh. yes. i remember.
freya vettel oh he's totally still in love with her.
lando norris honestly arthur just tell her. get it over with.
bailey winters i doubt you should be giving people advice.
lando norris oh seriously! we get it, i fucked up!
isabella perez oh you royally fucked up norris.
lando norris oh be quiet isabella, how many times have you broken up with austin by now?
isabella perez my relationship has nothing to do with this! focus on arthur and my sister!
mick schumacher i can't believe i'm saying this, but how are freya and i the only ones that are mentally healthy??
isabella perez because arthur is stupid. mae is in denial about her feelings. i'm codependent. lando is a dumbass. bailey is collateral damage to lando's dumbassery. AND YOU'RE IN FUCKING DENIAL!! SO IS FREYA!!
freya vettel wow. can't wait for the day all of you are mentally healthy and in healthy relationships.
mae jones at this rate isabella's doomed to divorcing and remarrying austin like 7 times.
isabella perez literally fuck you. stop writing songs about max!
bailey winters you're all insane.
arthur leclerc you are too bailey.
mae jones don't worry arthur. i know how to figure out if you'll be seeing her soon
arthur leclerc oh no. that's not good.
mae jones odds of seeing dulce at the monaco gp this year?
dulce perez that depends am i allowed to take my emotional support idiots?
isabella perez i thought i was your emotional support idiot?
max verstappen ooh she's been replaced.
esteban ocon i think we're better off asking what are the odds charles finishes the race.
charles leclerc this is why you've never won a race bitch.
daniel ricciardo who the fuck are her emotional support idiots?
dulce perez my roomates
lando norris BOOO!! WE'RE YOUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT IDIOTS!!
lewis hamilton you may be an idiot but i am not.
mae jones we're her emotional support chaos gremlins
natalia ruiz that makes more sense.
max verstappen you should ask checo if you can bring your friends, not us.
dulce perez i did. he said yes. see all of you back in monaco.
dulce perez i just have to ask them.
dulce perez thoughts on attending the monaco grand prix?
barbara rodriguez on my bucket list but currently too broke.
louis graham also on my bucket list but without means of going.
dulce perez i feel like we're forgetting that my uncle is literally an f1 driver??
louis graham SHUT THE FUCK UP!! TELL ME YOU DIDN'T?!!
barbara rodriguez NO FUCKING WAY!! I KNEW GOING TO SCHOOL IN MONACO WOULD PAY OFF!!
dulce perez wow. way to use me.
louis graham listen, we love you. you're great. but attending the monaco grand prix is such a dream.
barbara rodriguez I GET TO MEET SIR LEWIS HAMILTON!! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME!!
dulce perez we're going to support red bull not mercedes.
barbara rodriguez yeah but red bull doesn't have lewis hamilton does it?
louis graham personally, i will be supporting aston martin. wherever sebastian vettel is that is where i am.
dulce perez traitors both of you.
barbara rodriguez ARTHUR IS LITERALLY A FERRARI ACADEMY DRIVER! SHUT UP! YOU'RE THE BIGGEST TRAITOR OF ALL!!
dulce perez WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU THAT?
louis graham we went stalker mode. we had to find out everything about leclerc.
barbara rodriguez he's a cutie. why the hell did you dump him?
dulce perez we are not talking about this.
louis graham BOOO!! AS THE CHILDREN SAY, SPILL THE TEA SIS!!
dulce perez no!
babs.rodriguez, louis_graham, dulceperez posted new stories
who let me be here?? where is lewis hamilton??
holy shit!!
VAMOS TIO CHECO!!
pierre gasly soo...dulce
dulce perez before you ask no.
pierre gasly like not even a little bit?
rowan todd why must you ask this, you idiot?
pierre gasly i'm an instigator
dulce perez the answer is no because he has a girlfriend, you moron.
charles leclerc but if he didn't have a girlfriend?
dulce perez you too?
charles leclerc ANSWER THE QUESTION PEREZ!
dulce perez no. not my type.
isabella perez ARTHUR! WHO WAS THE CUTE GUY ON THE PODIUM?! THE PREMA GUY!!
max verstappen SHE'S GOT A CRUSH!
arthur leclerc oscar?
isabella perez brb gonna go stalk his instagram.
freya vettel anyone is better than a*stin
arthur leclerc trust me when i say he's 100 times better than that guy.
mae jones WAIT! WHO'S YOUR TYPE DULCE??!
natalia ruiz perhaps monégasque? rhymes with shmarthur?
dulce perez you people are insufferable.
daniel ricciardo THAT WASN'T A NO!
mick schumacher arthur just probably let out the biggest sigh of his life.
arthur leclerc at least i'm not in denial about my feelings.
mick schumacher HEY! WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT ME! AND YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH LECLERC!!
sebastian vettel i should consider retirement. that would mean i wouldn't have to deal with this.
fernando alonso i retired and they didn't let me leave. there is no hope for us.
lewis hamilton i told you that your biggest mistake would be showing weakness to max.
max verstappen YOU'RE THE ONE WHO COMFORTED ME FIRST! NOT SEB!
lewis hamilton oh sure, i was just supposed to leave a kid out, crying in the rain because his girlfriend had just broken up with him?
mae jones sorry, what?
daphne jones idiots, all of you
esteban ocon how's that hidden relationship going for you daphne?
daniel ricciardo it's not our fault they haven't figured it out yet, now is it?
lewis hamilton and i'm currently in the lead to win this bet so zip it ocon.
isabella perez GUYS! CUTE PREMA GUY IS SINGLE!!
lance stroll at least one thing is still normal around here.
taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @lorenaskaspersen @sarah-thatstings-ann @My-fangirling-outlet
strikethrough means i couldn't tag you
click here to be added to the honest series taglist
¡leclerc-s speaks!
and thus it begins! okay, listen, i love ross, for story purposes he younger than he actually is. idc what anyone says. i don't if i like this 100% but i'm still posting it.
¡disclaimer!
this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
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Oh, Ken, you're a dumbass. I can't even really call you a himbo because this is too malicious of a take on Wela to give you that title. Nope, it's just a dumbaass boy who thinks he's gonna impress the guy he likes by giving him a better position who doesn't, at all, understand what he's doing.
Poor Seiji, he's a genuinely nice person, a national treasure of not just kindness but actual communication. Again, frankly, impressed.
Call👏 him👏 out!
The dumbassery has entered the chat.
🔥Call 👏 his 👏 ass 👏 out!🔥
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
So you're planning to break the rules with him by getting him the top position by getting someone fired for breaking the exact rule you want to break with him.
This is truly a well thought out plan, can't you tell?
Okay, I love him. I said this before but this entire conversation is amazing. I wonder if we get more adult conclusions next week. This show really has done well with the adult communication part so far. Honestly, shockingly well.
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dialogue prompts that give off ~chaotic vibes~
!!please credit me if you use any!!
"you idiot. now we're gonna die."
"american cheese. shitty yet addicting. kind of like my exes."
"everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."
"careful. those aren't designed for idiots."
"tssk, tssk. what would jeff goldblum think of this?"
"if you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working."
"i'm about to say 'shut up' and if you respond with a ridiculously flirtatious 'make me' i will slap you."
"i congratulate you. to convince them is no small feat." *pause* "though you do have small feet."
"don't worry. it's not lethal. i think."
"hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt--fuck."
"no, but i can speak greek. είσαι σκατά." [you are shit.]
"can i? of course. will i? nah bro."
"we're gonna die and your tombstone will be engraved with 'death by dumbassery.'"
"i had a cat once. his name was stewart. i trained him in the fine art of jiu jitsu."
"what do you mean most people don't carry multiple knifes on them at once?? what if there's an attack?? or an urgent need to cut lettuce??"
"i swear to god if you post this on twitter i will steal your kidney."
"ok. fine. maybe i am a dumbass. but you gotta admit i'm a hot dumbass."
"ah, canada." (that's it. that's the prompt)
"is. is that a grenade."
"abso-fucking-lutely not."
"you know, this reminds me of the time i met the president."
"sometimes, your stupid astounds me."
"yeahhhh no. we're not doing that."
"is there actually anything in your skull or is it just dust and dumbass?"
"gordon ramsay is such a mood."
"this would be romantic if you weren't you and i wasn't me."
"most people just send a text, you know."
"goddammit. how many fucking beans did you spill."
"the world could be ending and you'd still find time to livetweet the imminent destruction of reality."
"you look like shit."
"i can kill a man with my bare hands but i can't unscrew this goddamn jar--"
extra challenges:
use all 31 in one work.
write one prompt every day for a month.
use a random number generator and write 500 (or any set number of) words, and only that amount of words.
to add some spice to #3, set a timer!
(reposted to switch to my prompt blog)
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pt one
———
Hunk’s phone rings. Loudly. Since he is the pinnacle of grace and benevolence, he spares one hand, eyes still trained firmly on the other hand pressing a screwdriver onto a delicate wire joint to hold it steady, to blindly pat about on his workbench until it closes around the device. He jabs a finger on the screen until the ringing ceases.
“Yah,” he says, not bothering with hellos. He’s busy.
“Handle your person,” Shiro hisses, then immediately hangs up.
Hunk snorts. Someone’s nap was disturbed.
He turns back to his project, sighing as he wraps it up. He doesn’t have long. If he can just solder this last wire, get that last connection in, it’ll be way easier to —
Lance kicks open his door, walking in screaming.
“Hello,” Hunk greets idly. And largely sarcastically, he will admit. Lance continues his wordless yell, vocalizing at the very top of his lungs, muffled only when he throws himself on Hunk’s bed and buries himself in Hunk’s pillow. “Shiro tells me you’re terrorizing people.”
“His skull is fucking solid!” Lance screeches.
Hunk does not need to ask to whom Lance is referring. He does, however, pause what he’s doing immediately, spinning around slowly in his chair with his fingertips pressed together like every eighties cartoon villain. His smile can only really be described as gleeful. Perhaps diabolical if he stretches.
He is entirely unapologetic.
“And what happened this time,” Hunk questions, adopting his very best therapy voice. It must work, because Lance shoots up, face bright candy red, wicked snarl pulling on his lips. When he speaks again his voice is carefully controlled and dripping with rage.
“It is beyond hinting, Kealoha. I have practically laid myself at his feet and begged him to ravish me, and he still does not get it. I am going to fucking wring his neck.”
Hunk hums thoughtfully. “Well, that is probably what it’s going to take.” At Lance’s raised eyebrow, he rushes to clarify — “Throwing yourself at his feet, I mean. Don’t strangle him. At least not before I can see it.”
Lance groans loudly. This time when he flops back on Hunk’s mattress he is more miserable than rageful, like a scolded chihuahua. Hunk considers telling him that and then remembers that he’s quite fond of his limbs where they are.
“I know he likes me,” Lance grumbles. “He’s just a dumbass. Like, yesterday he had to go into a healing pod because I did those leg stretches in front of him and he walked into the wall and broke his nose. And last week he said I smelled good and no straight people say stupid shit like that. And when I flirted with that princess on our last mission I was lowkey worried he was gonna jump her, or something. He went all big bad Galra growly and everything.”
Hunk inclines his head. “This is true.”
It is true. Well, he didn’t know the broken nose thing — although that’s hilarious and he will be sharing that information with the class when prudent — and he hasn’t witnessed many of the specific brands of Keith and Lance dumbassery, since they spend so much time on their own, but he, like, has eyes. Keith wants Lance so bad it’s actually embarrassing. Hunk’s not one to generally agree with Lance, since it’s his God-given right to humble him at any opportunity, but that boy is oblivious unlike any other. He understands that Keith is emotionally stunted due to the ordeal of being orphaned, and to Keith he leaves his highest sympathies, but also Jesus Christ, dude. How many times are you going to be wrought with jealousy before you go oh, duh, I might be in love with this goober.
Maybe Shiro hasn’t had the talk with him yet. Hunk makes a mental note to follow up.
“—it’s just that I don’t understand,” Lance laments.
Hunk blinks back to the conversation, where Lance has clearly taken it upon himself to wax poetic and inspire woe upon himself once more.
Hunk stills. An idea wiggles its delightful little way through his brain. He holds up his phone, pointed at Lance’s prone and desolate form.
God, he loves his brain. He loves meddling. He loves love and life, basically.
“I just,” Lance sighs, and to his endless credit he sounds genuinely torn-up, for all his melodrama. “I wish I could just tell him, I guess. In some way. I wish I could get it through his fool head that he is loved by me particularly in such a way that I want to hold hands and kiss and generally be nuisances of the affectionate kind. You know, romance.”
Hunk hums with great understanding. “I see. And say you were not plagued with chronic anxiety and an unfortunate tendency to glow in your face region if someone so much as insinuates in any capacity that they care about you — what would you say to this paramour of yours?”
Lance tilts his head consideringly. His eyes are big and brown and pouty, like a scorned puppy. It’s adorable, in a pathetic kind of way. Hunk cannot help but pat him delicately on the knee.
“I suppose,” he huffs, “that I would just say it outright. Keith Kogane, you magnanimous dumbass, would it kill you to ask me out like a man. Something like that.”
“You could also ask him out like a man,” Hunk points out.
“Choke and die,” Lance responds, predictably. Hunk pays him again.
Hunk stops the recording and tucks his phone back in his pocket. He will decide how to handle the situation shortly.
…After he makes several copies and distributes them to the team. Obviously. Hunk’s excellent advice and matchmaking skills isn’t free, after all.
Lance whines again. “Why is my life so sick and twisted.”
Hunk chooses against reminding Lance that they are in the very beginning of the process of dismantling the worst tyranny the universe has ever seen, and of all the things in his life to be sick and twisted his dweeby romance is probably not one of them. Because that would be a huge buzzkill, obviously. Instead he delicately and a touch condescendingly pats Lance on the head. Lance leans into the touch, because he is a massive sweetheart and dork and nerd, and Hunk can’t help but smile widely.
“All will work out,” he says ominously. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Blah,” Lance says.
Hunk smiles wider.
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returning to my roots with some twst flavored incorrect quotes~
-
Malleus: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.
Yuu: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY HOUSE!!!
-
Grim: And once again, the two of us save the day.
Deuce: You didn't do anything. It was Yuu.
Grim: We're a package deal, everyone knows that.
-
Cater: If you’re new to our channels I’ll just summarize what you’re dealing with here.
Cater: I’m awesome and handsome and everyone’s jealous of me.
Cater, points to Trey: team mom
Cater, points to Ace: Loud and annoying but his dumbassery kind of makes up for his personality
Cater, points to Deuce: he’s decent
Cater, points to Riddle: crazy and fun to mess with
Cater, points to Yuu and Grim: as for them
Cater: I once watched them have a snowball fight where all they did was yell “yeet” and “bro” for an hour.
Cater: welcome to the shit show.
-
Yuu: Azul, I know all about your diabolical plan.
Azul: What diabolical plan?
Yuu: *holds up a document that says “My Diabolical Plan by Azul”*
-
Pilot: before we take off, make sure all small items are secure.
Floyd, putting a hand on Riddle’s shoulder: how are you feeling?
-
Deuce: It seems like bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.
Ace: Deuce, you don’t have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you’re a dumbass.
-
Ruggie : My whole life has just been various people yelling at me
Leona: Sometimes you deserve it
Ruggie: If I’m gonna get yelled at anyways, I might as well get to be rude
-
Yuu: my friends, as always, give me full support
Ace, shouting in the distance: you’re doing everything wrong!
-
Lilia: I'm the cool dad. That's my thing. I'm hip. I surf the Web. I text. LOL: laugh out loud. OMG. WTF: Why the face? Um you know, I know all the dances to High School Musical so.
-
Jamil: If it's a concussion, you have to keep him conscious, okay? Ask him questions.
Yuu, to Kalim: What's seven times seven?
Jamil: Stuff he knows!
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Cracks in Foundation (S.R.)
Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series
Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6000
Summary:
Dating Steve Rogers is a curse and a gift. Even as it was always a privilege, right now, it feels like the former. You really want to smack some sense into him so this never happens again, but you know it will – after all, that’s half the reason you love him.
In other words, Steve is stupidly brave on a mission and it has consequences neither of you could foresee. But maybe you should have; because now you’re here alone to pick up the pieces.
Warnings!!: Steve being an absolute dumbass, mentions and images of death, hypothermia, PTSD, flashbacks, probably not an ideal treatment of a flashback, canon typical violence, language
A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; you do not need knowledge of Criminal Minds or Love on the Brains series to read this, but it will, of course, make more sense. I imagine this taking place much later - in about a year after the events of Love on the Brain; divider by firefly-graphics
In my body I fight fire
With the snow,
my hell is cold
(SYML – Body)
This shouldn’t have happened. This nevershouldn’t have happened but it had – of course it had. You should have seen it coming, both the action and the reaction. All of you should have known better, but you in particular.
Unfortunately, sometimes, despite your ability to profile people, you still failed.
Sometimes, despite your best knowledge of Steven Grant Rogers, you still managed to underestimate him. His literally unhuman body. His profoundly good heart. His incredible strength in both muscles and psyche. His ability to have you burn for him with a single touch. His ability to touch your heart in ways no one ever could.
His extraordinary dumbassery.
You really should have known so much better.
If you had, you wouldn’t have him here, face ashen, lips turning blue, eyes wide and unfocused; he looked like death itself.
You swallowed your tears and tried to battle the ever-rising panic crawling up your throat, closing your eyes for a moment as if it could erase the terrifying sight.
“Steve? Stevie? You’re going to be okay… I’m here. You’re going to be okay…”
You repeated the mantra so many times you weren’t sure anymore whether you were saying it to him or to yourself.
The craziest thing was, it wasn’t even the worst sight of the day you were offered by your exceptional dumbass of a boyfriend; no, that had been what your own mind had shown you. Now that image was going to haunt you forever and despite knowing yelling solved nothing and it couldn’t change the past, you were going to scream your lungs out when you’d get the chance. Later. Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.
Like making sure Steve Rogers, your GG, would come back to you.
You needed to get to work.
It was a routine mission really, if such things as routine existed within the Avengers Initiative. It was rather routine in terms of involvement of the actual Avengers; Steve and Natasha joined missions like these – sweep a base, gather intel, make some arrests if lucky enough – on a regular basis. Tony Stark coming with? Less so. Still, one could call it routine enough, even when located in the death of tundra in Russia around 100 miles from the border with Finland.
Besides the cold and Tony, there was nothing extraordinary. Just another mission.
And it had been; until the agents scattered and you heard several voices in the comms reporting they were in pursuit of the enemies. Until you found out they were chasing them through the tunnels and suddenly found themselves outside of the base. Until you learned that outside meant the landscape of the very frozen lake Natasha had purposely avoided landing the quinjet on for the fear of the heavy aircraft destabilizing the already risky environment.
Until you heard agent Smith was down. And by down, they meant under the ice, because a thinner layer of it cracked and broke under his feet. Until Steve fucking Rogers, two hundred and forty pounds of muscle and zero brain power at the moment had the wonderful idea to rush to Smith’s aid.
You had made it out of the base just in time to see his navy-blue suit disappear and your sleep for the following nights probably with it. You had stood there holding your breath as if you were the one in the icy water, as if subconsciously testing how much oxygen – as if that was the only concern – you had left before you’d have to make it to the surface for another breath.
It was long. It was too long. You had taken at least two breaths in the meantime and you weren’t sure the panic rising in your chest with every frantic beat of your heart, with every second they did not appear above the surface, was to blame.
Your hand flew to your comms and you cursed yourself for not having done it moments ago.
“Tony-“
“I’m onto those idiots, Squirt, don’t worry,” his voice sounded in your ear, not quite easing your worry in fact.
Steve was still under. Still in the water. Even though you were aware that he survived much worse than a few seconds of icy cold water – try decades – you’d rather he was still conscious when Tony would get his stupid ass out. And the second Steve would be able to hear you, were going to yell, very loudly and probably more than a little hysterical, because what the hell had he been doing beside tempting fate to give him another involuntary icy nap. You were going to chew the hell out of him, your fists curling in your thick microfibre gloves, because you felt like punshing him too, anything, just so you could stop holding your breath.
But you needed him to get out first.
“And get to the jet, your bae will need some warming up,” Tony added, causing you to grit your teeth, even as you were grateful; not a second later, the whoosh of Iron Man’s suit flying above your head blew the few stands of hair that escaped your hat in your face.
Completely ignoring Tony’s inappropriate comment and his sound advice, you remained right where you stood, gaze transfixed where you had last seen Steve, slipping under the surface. Your pulse thundered in your temples as you watched the red and gold of Tony’s suit fly like a flare above the flood of white surrounding you all, nearing the break in the ice, no doubt searching the heat signatures you assumed were fading with each passing moment.
And then the Iron Man himself performed an obnoxious superhero-like landing, complete with fist on the ground and your anger, gathering since you saw Steve dive into a fucking ice soup without a second thought, exploded, your vision turning bloody red for a split second. What the fuck was Stark doing that for?! Did he really just feed his ego while on a rescue mission?! You were going to-
And then the fist landed again. And again and again and then it hit you. You didn’t have the capacity to scold yourself for assuming and assuming completely wrong; the realization stunned you, blood freezing in your veins having nothing to do with the snow and harsh wind hitting your face.
The ice had frozen over. Steve jumped in and before he could emerge, the ice had frozen over his head. The image of a him under water, holding Smith, the fucking moron, to his chest and fighting to punch his way through the solid surface, swinging his arm heavily through the icy water stinging every inch of his skin, losing oxygen by the minute, that was an image that would haunt you forever, even as you had never set your eyes on it.
Then again, the arm of Tony’s suit diving into water and pulling out two men as easily as if they were helpless kittens was etched into your brain just as effectively, arriving with overwhelming relief. With a wordless prayer on your lips, you squinted against the snow blowing in your face to search for a lump of beloved and hated navy blue suit contrasting against the endless white of the plain surrounding the incident.
You’d swear you could hear him coughing, hungrily drinking in air in between when he doubled over as soon as Tony dropped him off in a safe distance from the crack. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the red and gold figure carrying the motionless body of Agent Smith, flying it to the quinjet, the medical team having prepared on the ramp with a stroller and equipment, but your eyes were transfixed on the dark mass of a supersoldier good hundred feet away still. You were almost certain, even from the distance, that he also managed to empty his stomach to make him feel even more miserable. Not that you blamed him; it had to be, apart from really fucking cold, extremely terrifying. It definitely was for you. Just the memory made your feel throat as if squeezed in a vice.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, pick-up number two happening right away,” Tony assured you face-to face, uncharacteristically humourless now that he had set eyes on the momentarily lifeless body of Agent Smith.
You thought you uttered a thank you, but he couldn’t hear it as he was already off to carry your exceptionally idiotic boyfriend along. And so you ran to the jet, boots heavy with snow falling in and biting coldly into your calf and shins, legs stiff from the shock of the experience still.
When Tony finally brought Steve after what felt like a lifetime, you certainly didn’t speak a word of complaint when he also hauled him further into the quinjet into one of the medical cubicles sans a team. You followed, painfully aware of every single muscle in Steve’s body trembling, the tips of his fingers having turned white.
“You can yell at him first,” Tony told you graciously, shooting Steve an ugly look before glancing at you entering just behind them.
“Gee thanks,” you snarked back automatically, tone softening when you met his genuinely worried eyes. “Thank you, Tony, really.”
“Whatever,” he scoffed, but a small smile passed over his lips. “Jarvis, heat up this room for our Capsicle, will you?”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Steve wasn’t going to live that down any time soon, probably ever, not after attempting to became an icicle for the second time.
“Certainly, sir. Gradually heating up to 25 degrees Celsius, as recommended in the medical manual,” the AI chimed helpfully, the wave of heat washing over you instantly. The air felt almost tropical after the arctic wind outside, but you were grateful. Steve would need that.
“Thanks, J,” you said, throwing off your gloves, hat and parka as quick as you managed with your fingers freezing, not bothering with more as to help Steve strip his soaking garments as soon a possible.
The silence that settled after rang a sudden alarm bells; it dawned to you at last that during the whole exchange, Steve remained quiet. Way too quiet.
You’d expect the sounds of zippers and Velcro as he was tearing off his uniform, the fabric dripping icy cold water despite the best engineers and designers having worked on the material. You’d expect his teeth to clatter in doing so, colourful curses on his blueish lips, especially when in company of only you and Tony. He had been coughing out water, quite violently, barely just having been dropped in the jet, so you’d think his air-ways would still fight spasm and the biting intrusion of ice, the raspy wet cough not ceasing.
But Steve was doing neither of that, tripling your worry for him in the process.
You moved to round him to get a look at him with an urgent whisper of his name, stomach flipping in fear when he didn’t answer.
The lack of any action or sound was incredibly disconcerting, because it could mean two things: either, he was absolutely stunned, the weight of what could have happened finally falling on him, or he had been already struck by hypothermia severe enough to be acutely in danger despite being a far cry from what Smith had looked like when Tony dropped him off.
When you finally laid your eyes on Steve’s face, your heart nearly stopped. His skin was scarily pale, his lips turning alarming blue, but that, while worrying, wasn’t surprising at all. What shocked you was his eyes; his pupils were blown wide, unfocused, misted over to the point that had he been lying on the ground, you’d swear he was--
Do not even think it. You can’t. He was going to be fine, he was alright, he just needed to warm up, he was not—He was very much alive, you were sure of it, he had to be. But the fact was, Steve couldn’t see you. He wasn’t seeing anything.
With horror, your gaze fell to his chest and in a split second, you realized that his whole body was still. Way too still. He wasn’t moving at all; he wasn’t even breathing. And yet, he was standing upright, almost as if his feet simply froze to the ground and that was the only reason why he hadn’t collapsed yet- But you knew, you knew that wasn’t possible, and despite the panic clawing at your throat, you were hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t be standing upright had his heart stopped, so how was he still standing?
It would be baffling if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying. Why was he so still? It literally looked as if he was frozen, as if-
He was frozen.
When it finally clicked, a choked noise erupted from lips, your heart shattering into thousand pieces; but your mind snapped into action, already working on solutions.
“Tony, get us as many of towels, blankets and those small heat packs, as you can manage and give me full access to J. Make sure we have complete privacy. No one needs to see this.” Your throat was too tight for you to be able to speak on normal volume, but that was the least of your concerns, truly. You were sure Tony heard you just fine.
At least someone did.
“Kinky-?” Tony uttered, confused by your sudden escalated panic and the look you shot him – if looks could kill, he’d already be lying in a pool of his blood.
“Tony, get your ass fucking moving or I’ll swear to god I’ll strangle you in a way that will make Sam McDowell look like an amateur.”
Whether he knew the name of the prolific serial strangler or simply understood the urgency in your tone, he had enough wit to take his leave without further protest and with relative hurry, leaving you focus fully on Steve. Oh Steve. The absent brilliant blue of his irises had your stomach make another unpleasant somersault, your eyes filling with tears, nose tingling in anticipation of a full sobfest.
You so couldn’t afford that now. You couldn’t afford screaming either, but good god, did you want to – you wanted to stand in front of a mirror and scream your lungs out because how could it have not punched you straight in the face right away? How could you have not seen it coming?! You only had years of experience in profiling, with dealing individuals struggling with PTSD among other things. You only known Steve for years, knew what he had endured. You only learned about the sacrifice of Captain America in high school, several years ago.
God, the icy water. Could there be any more obvious and deadly trigger?
Of course Steve’s gaze was absent, his whole mind was. He wasn’t here with you, not in time and not in space; he was in the water. In a water so icy it was turning solid, trapping him for decades to come. People couldn’t breathe under water. People couldn’t breathe when frozen in a mass of ice.
Now you understood the reason for the absolute stillness of his whole body including his chest. Steve’s mind was locked so firmly into the memory that it either shut his body – because logically, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone move in the prison he found himself in – or it latched onto his survival instinct, screaming at him not to breathe to prevent the water flooding into his lungs.
You fought your instinct to gag when the iron fist that realization hit you square in the stomach and sent bile up your throat.
So not the time. You needed him to snap out of it. And you needed it fast before you’d lose any more precious seconds.
“Steve?” you called out lowly, giving zero shit about the crack in your voice. “Stevie? You’re going to be okay, but I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?” you pleaded.
Grimacing, you released an involuntarily whimper when you got zero reaction. You pushed through the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to repeat the words in normal volume. The only response you got was the ever-present unnatural stillness; and Steve’s lips gradually turning bluer.
Your thoughts whirled in your head, mind desperately trying to latch onto any knowledge and experience you had with dealing with PTSD. You had never encountered someone with similar problem, never dealt with a flashback of this magnitude; Gideon had once taken the lead with a soldier trapped in his mind, murdering civilians for he believed them to be enemy soldiers, but that was Gideon. Jason Gideon, with his mind of steel and twenty-five years of experience. Jason Gideon, one of the founding fathers of the Behaviour Analysis Unit himself.
On your own, you were at loss with someone so far gone; but what you knew had to be enough. What you knew was that the only way of breaking Steve out of the prison his mind had created was to anchor him in reality, to appeal to all his senses.
The problem was that the majority of stimuli Steve was receiving from his senses matched the very environment of his flashback. The reality you would try to ground him in was his clothes soaking wet in freezing water and him being on a planewith a voice of a woman in his ears, trying to sooth his suffering. In other words, the reality was how he ended up buried in the ice in the first place.
Aware that you were shaking like a leaf yourself, jaw set so tight it was beginning to hurt, you were also painfully aware you couldn’t just stand there doing nothing with cheeks wet with tears and stare at the strongest person you had ever knew involuntarily depriving himself of oxygen. You had to do something.
Touching him was, frankly, a terrible idea; touching anyone with a flashback would be, because you’d be risking triggering a fight or flight response instead. Touching Steve and triggering the fight part in a supersoldier however, get him run on pure instinct? Now that could result in your broken neck or crushed windpipe really quickly. That idea truly didn’t sound appealing to you; and Steve would never forgive himself. You’d rather avoid that.
You took a deep breath, releasing the air shakily as your mind raced. Alright. Time. If you couldn’t ground him in space, you needed to ground him in time.
“Steve, GG, look at me. I’m Agent Jones – I’m Sparkles,” you said urgently, taking care to voice every syllable, daring to step an inch closer to him, hoping to fill his field of vision completely. “And I’m right here with you. There’s no water. Nothing’s stopping me or you from breathing.” You exaggerated an inhale and exhale, the warm air washing over his face, but without any effect. “There’s plenty of air, GG, for both you and me. Please.”
You dug your nails into your palms when nothing happened but your love staring back blankly, unnaturally stiff.
Steve could hold his breath for a long time – much more than an average human, his lung capacity unmatched – but he had also been drowning, so you really couldn’t count on that. You were running out of time. He was going to pass out. Sure, his breathing would kick in then and hell, maybe losing consciousness would be a blessing compared to this, but that sleep would not be peaceful and there was no telling what the wake-up call would look like other than really fucking unpleasant. The idea of him escaping one nightmare only to be find himself in another and then another until he woke up to the reality just as harsh, as if freshly having lost the whole world he knew all over again, chased fresh tears into your eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Tony’s voice snapped you from your focus, your heart nearly bursting through your chest.
Jesus, how long had he been standing there?
Not important; and you didn’t have time to explain. Without thinking, you spilled the truth in as few words as possible, in the very same breath you tried to appeal to Steve again, your gaze never shifting from his pale face.
“He’s having a flashback, please leave, thank you for the blankets-- GG, please. Breathe with me, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here. Trust me. I can breathe just fine…”
You could not. You felt as if someone smashed your ribs with a crowbar for laughs and hit and hit until you couldn’t breathe in without blinding pain, but you knew, you knew it had to be nothing compared to what Steve was facing and you needed to get a grip, you couldn’t wallow in it and you couldn’t let the biting fear consume you. Not with Steve like this.
You were out of other options. Gulping, you oh so slowly lifted your trembling hand, settling it against Steve’s ashen cold cheek. You only got as far as your skin brushing his when a vice-like grip on your wrist stopped you, tearing your touch away and completely immobilizing your hand in the process.
He didn’t look at you as you hissed in pain; he was still far, far away, not moving an inch more than strictly necessary to stop you. But the jolt of pain into your wrist was accompanied by a loud gasp for air, his ribcage expanding right in front of your eyes.
A wet laugh escaped you. “Oh thank god.”
His fingers might as well be made of ice, just as freezing and just as rigid, clutching at you with all the might his body was probably capable off and it hurt. But at least it wasn’t your throat in his grip; you could both breathe. That was a tremendous win.
You still needed to anchor him further and actually bring him back, but the door to his mind were unlocked at least. Now you needed to appeal to all his senses, talk him through it, so he could open the door himself.
“Agent Jones? Do you require assistance?” Jarvis asked warily, no doubt reacting to your physical distress.
Rightfully so, because it was growing – if it was possible, Steve’s fingers dug further into your flesh, already making for a bruise, you were sure. Your fingertips begun to tingle, strange numbness spreading through your hand, but you were far too gone to give up now. You could handle this. You’d get Steve release you on his own.
“Not for now, J, thank you. We’re good—actually, Jarvis?” you called out lowly, the artificial intelligence instantly letting you know he listened. “Can you play me a song? I need to get Steve in the modern times.”
“Certainly. What would you like me to play, Agent Jones? Something contemporary?”
“Yeah. Contemporary and irritatingly ear-worming,” you muttered, mind racing.
A song Steve would hundred percent know, one his mind would without a single doubt identify as something modern. It was the biggest assholery of your mind to push the melody of Let It Go into the forefront of your overstressed brain before anything else, but a hysterical chuckle escaped you anyway, forcing you to lick off tears from your lips. It was the stupidest thing and the worst irony ever – because yeah, the cold really fucking bothered you now and it sure bothered Steve.
“Something way too overplayed on a radio, preferably without the words cold, snow, ice and such in it, J.”
It was only half a second later, when Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off came out the speakers.
Despite yourself, you snorted, fresh tears springing out. This time, you appreciated the irony. That was what Steve needed, right? He just needed to shake it off. He’d be fine.
Taking a deep breath, smiling through your tears and the growing pains in your wrist, you got to work.
You told him what he was hearing. The engines, the song, the heating running, your voice. You told him what he could see, your hair, the colour of your eyes, the Avengers logo etched onto your uniform and not an SSR one, the high-tech equipment you knew he could have never seen in his original time. You told him about the heat washing over his face and hair, your hand in his.
The owlish, painfully slow blink you elicited was a victory, bringing a smile to your face, drying your tears, bringing a softer and softer tone to your voice as you continued speaking.
“Steve? GG? I know it’s cold and I want to help you,” you said gently, trying to meet his gaze as it began to slowly roam to room; still absent, but not misted over anymore. “I could help you by taking off that wet suit, taking away the cold. But for that, I need you to let go of my hand so I can-“
You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut when the response you got was the exact opposite, as if he was mad at you for even suggesting it; you stifled the whimper at the prickling his grip sent through your arm. It was hard to tell whose hand was paler now; he definitely cut off your circulation and it was not a pretty sight. But you only had yourself to blame and you promised yourself you’d never do otherwise.
It was only when the numbness replaced the pain that it dawned to you where the problem might be.
“GG, please? I promise I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here with you. But I need you to release my hand so I can take that cold away. Only the cold, I swear.”
You nearly cried when the pressure on your wrist gradually eased, a shaky exhale sounding a lot like a whine escaping you. That was most definitely more than a bruise; you allowed yourself a few seconds of deep breaths, fighting off the dark edge in your vision.
Then, you grabbed after one of the small heating pads, snapping the thin metal plate inside to initiate a chemical reaction; in an instant, the thick liquid began to solidify and warm up. You placed in into Steve’s still open palm, hanging loosely by his side, enclosing his icy fingers around it despite the gloves getting in the way. You winced at the sharp pain shooting through your arm. Definitely more than a bruise. You repeated the process to warm up his other hand, finally going for the Velcros and zippers on the front of his suit.
Thankfully, the temperature Jarvis had set melted the microcrystals of ice around the metal, allowing you to undo it relatively easy. You felt Steve’s eyes on your now, his body slowly, oh so slowly getting on with the programme, fists unclenching when you needed to pull the sleeves over his hands without dropping the pads.
“You’re doing so good, Stevie, so good,” you praised him softly, loud enough to speak over the second playing of the song in the background. You were going to hear it for days, you were certain. And you’d hate it forever, too. “You’re a great help, GG, thank you.”
When he dropped the pads, you made a quick work of undoing his gloves too, before pushing new pads into his hands. His thick pants followed; the boots though, those were trickier.
Fuck this. You swiftly searched the transparent cabinets for scalpel, slicing the material through as carefully as you could with your still trembling hands. The water was still brutally cold against your fingers; and your wrist was beginning to throb. Almost there, you soothed yourself, wondering whether you’d manage to make Steve sit down so you could take off those boots and the pants… and underpants. You’d rather have him keep his dignity, but his boxer shorts were soaked through as well and way too close to his core… maybe if you placed enough heating pads around…
The truth was that despite your instincts screaming at you, you knew you didn’t have to worry that much about the physical effects of the low temperature on him. As awful as it sounded, you knew he could take the icy cold – that was part of the problem. It was the numbing memory constructing the perfect trap for his mind, the dissociation, that took precedence, as unusual as it was. And if you weighted the pros and cons…
Well. It wasn’t like his dick was going to freeze right off.
You stood to your full height, licking your lips as you faced Steve again. He was watching you now with surprising intent; you tried to give him a reassuring smile, raising your unharmed hand slowly enough for him to register and placed it on his ribs, almost under the armpit, ready to support him in case his muscles didn’t quite respond to his command as expected when you’d ask him to sit down.
What you didn’t expect was for him to crumble under your touch.
Over two hundred pounds of muscle was too much for your body to carry. When he leaned onto you without a single warning, his knees giving way, dropping his whole weight on your shoulders, you tumbled to the ground as you were without a real chance to slow down the fall. Your hands instinctively attempted too, but you knew you could add bruised backbone and your other wrist to the list on your injuries.
And while pain briefly shot through you very bones, you soon didn’t give a damn.
Not when Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck, arms gripping onto your body like as if it was a lifeline, harsh breaths and heartbreaking sobs escaping his lips, shaking his usually strong frame; but maybe that was just shivers from the cold. His skin was still almost icy to touch, his nose like an icicle as he pressed to your collarbone over your thermals, wet hair tickling your chin; his pants at his ankles, his boots, barely keeping together, still as his feet. You let them be as they were. Instead of stripping him further, you managed to reach for at least one of the pads and throw it into his lap, the blankets and towels too far away.
You enclosed Steve in a hug, achy hand carefully resting in his hair, the other running soothing circles on his back in a poor attempt to console him. His tears seeped into your shoulder and you never cared less for anything in your life; yours in return disappeared into his hair. Sweet nonsenses were spilling from your lips, drowned in his ragged sobs; you whispered his name over and over, his name and all endearments that came to mind and even remotely fit him. I’ve got you, love. Sweetheart, I’m here, sweet, I’m here… oh GG, my gentle giant, giant heart, I’ve got you, this will pass, I’ll help, I’ll help, I’ll help you stand up again. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud…
The song, thank god, stopped playing as soon as Steve broke.
You could feel his body weighting a ton, every muscle weary, strung and feeble at once, and yet, it was his mind making for most of the weight he couldn’t bear. Feelings he normally hid behind a wall as tall as Tower of Babel so he could lead others into battle with a brave face now oozed off him and soaked your skin and mind. You could only imagine the onslaught of emotions and memories, reminders of all he lost, the ghost of having woken up in the new millennium for the first time looming over him.
The way his fingers dug into your forearm, clutched at the flesh of your waist, it would hurt later; but at the moment, those long agonizing minutes that felt like an eternity, you barely felt it, instead consumed by overwhelming grief for the kindest and strongest soul you had ever met. The best man, breaking in front of your eyes and in your arms.
It took long minutes before you dared to move, just enough to reach for the blanket and strip him off the pants and shoes at least. You never went too far. The volume of your voice decreased along with Steve’s, along with the tremble of his exhausted body. He melted into your frame, falling asleep right there, held in your considerably weaker arms and you were grateful.
In a low voice, you asked Jarvis to notify Steve’s therapist – and yours, even if with less urgency. The worst of it was over, but you weren’t naïve as to think that just because the storm was over, there would be no damage and no need for restoration.
For now, you held Steve and tried to keep him warm, not blind to the fact his body combined with Jarvis’ service was already drying off the last piece of clothing he wore. You ran the fingers of your unharmed hand through the golden damp strands of his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead every now and then, hoping his sleep was dreamless.
Minutes or hours later, Natasha was the one to find you still curled one into other, gently telling you that everyone had already left the jet and that she’d send medics over in a few. You gave her a brave smile even as you were feeling everything but, your adrenalin wearing off and leaving you on the brink of breaking yourself.
When two medics rolled Steve away and you followed, refusing to move an inch farther from Steve than necessary just in case he’d unexpectedly wake up, a third one forced you to take an x-ray as your hand was already swelling.
As it turned out, there was a crack in both your ulna and radius, the mass, however strong, having been unable to withstand Steve’s strength. The swelling was bothering your nerves and your veins, hence the painful tingles and numbness; but in the end, they were just cracks. They’d heal.
Cracks actually usually hurt more than complete breaks, Doctor Jackson told you. You thought it was quite fitting. What Steve had experienced was not a break, for he was never broken; you weren’t certain he could be. It was but a crack; the foundation of who he was had so far been strong enough to withstand horrors unimaginable. And even though the cracks hurt like a bitch, you’d be there for him to help him through the pain.
The cracks in your bones could be solved by a few pills and rest; his would be a little more complicated.
But you’d help build him up again. You’d help him stand tall. Not for the sake of Captain America, the shining beacon of hope, the façade that could be speedpaint with shines of red, blue and white with ease. No, you’d help repair the real cracks for Steve, the gentlest of giants you knew, even if it would take more time and effort than an icon.
He was worth the trouble; even as you suspected that once he’d wake, he might have a thing or two to say about that. You’d convince him otherwise; you wouldn’t be alone.
And neither would he.
With a splint all over your forearm and wrist and a promise you would do a session in Doctor Cho’s cradle to speed the healing, you settled on the bed by Steve’s bedside, the surprisingly serene expression on his face and the gentle beeps of the heart monitor making for a warm hum of satisfaction in your chest.
You’d heal together. Of that, you were sure.
I was hearing words in black and white
Twisted up inside my broken mind
Outstretched dirty hands just like a child
Hungry little fool, but you were mine
(SYML – Body)
Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist
Notes (because the first aid trainer in me screams and severe hypothermia is a bitch): normally, first concern would most definitely be the cold, hypothermia and the impending arrhythmia (can be caused by the cold), but a) it was established Steve’s body can take it (proved the hard way) and b) his suit probably kept the absolutely worst away… PSA over.
ANYWAY. I hope you – well – liked it ("enjoyed" feels like a little too strong of a word for Steve’s suffering) 🥰 Thank you for reading! Feedback is life.
P.S. – this will likely be followed by a second part called Restoration, but I make no promises.
P.P.S. - if you wish to read a fluff about "Steve fell through frozen lake" situation, I recommend Frozen by @tilltheendwilliwrite 🥰
P.P.P.S. - if you are a CM fan, know that the title is a loose reference to Emily's issues in the second half of season seven when she tries to re-settle down with the team and at Quantico.
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You'll Always Have Me [and ur money] (HC's)
notes: i'm kinda a dumbass. This was originally requested by @snipersiniora and everything after that is a long story. (the original ask got deleted because of my dumbassery) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING!!! <3 btw this isn't proofread <3
M.List
RotTMNT HC's with a sweet!rich!reader gf who lost her family and only has their turtle bf left
rise! Raph-a-doodle
You're a sweetheart, Raph loves you very much
He cherishes everything you give to him
You thought of him and cared enough to use your money on him?
Every time you see him, you can smell his love stink
-yeah it's a thing and i made the rules
You give him (and most likely his brothers) allowances and honestly? They help tons
He does his very best to take care of everything you give him
big man is clumsy
He appreciates you soooo much, he's smitten
Raph loves going to your place, it's so nice and it's a great break from underground
I imagine he sleeps over a lot
He's so protective of you, making sure nobody hurts you
it's New York, being rich is hazardous iykwim
Raph is pretty dense sometimes, he might miss small details
On this topic, he might not notice when you're clingier than usual, but if you seem extra sad he'll pick up on it
Why're you sad?
If you tell him, he'll let you cry on him, and he'll assure you that you'll always have him
If he finds out by himself, he may have wished you told him but we can't change that anymore can we?
You lost your family, he's going to make sure you'll always have him
He sleeps over a lot more now, and has you sleep at the lair some nights
You're never alone unless you want to be
Raph is always there for you and he always will be
and your money keeps supplying
rise! Neon-Leon
Spoiling Leo is extra fun ion know why
You get him stupid little gifts or they could be designer clothing
ion know
He's extremely protective of you and insists on walking/portalling you to and from wherever
He loves how sweet you are and he cherishes you
He'll make gold digger jokes which obviously he doesn't mean whatsoever
bitch.
He expresses his gratitude for your gifts, allowances, and everything spice and nice :)
When you spoil him, he spoils you
in hugs, kisses, and cuddles! :D
He's such a silly bitch boy!
Leo's also one to sleep over at your place a lot
preferably sleeping in your bed because he's a little shit
He spends your allowances on stupid shit btw, but he finds them useful
"Leo why tf did you buy this?" *a rubber duck that's blue* "It matches my charismatic personality!"
Leo picks up on things fairly quickly so he can figure out pretty quickly if something was ever off one day
On this topic, he notices when you're clingier, and when you seem extra sad
He'll confront you about it but whether you tell him or not is your choice
If you choose to tell him he's going to hold you in his arms and let you cry it out
He is also one to never let you be alone, no matter what he's doing he's going to find a way to keep you by him
He'll make sure you know that you'll always have him and you can always fall on him.
He'll make jokes to try and make you less sad
Anything you need he's got it for you
Will let you talk about your family if that's what you need
-he'll nod along and comment when needed to show you he's listening
If he finds out he's also one to wish you would've told him
He's not mad at you but he doesn't want you keeping allat inside
Leo loves you so much and he'll make sure you know that you'll always have him
and your money
rise! Othello Von Ryan
okay
You have cash, he does expensive things
Maybe you could ahhh
Help a guy out??
You supply him with expensive parts for his tech
Buy him purple jackets that aren't hijacked please
he needs a lil extra help with that btw
Spoil him, buy him certain things he needs for his lab, the equipment has never looked shinier without your help
If you do this, Donatello's forever grateful, he'll probably do a happy dance
He's also very protective of you, though I wouldn't say he's SO protective
He'll make sure you get home safe, and he probably has your location
-not to be creepy or anything, he just has it
Likes hanging out with you at your place but I honestly see him as someone wanting to stay at his place
He does appreciate how nice it is though, and how it's a good break from the sewers
He loves your sweetness, though he'll never admit it
bad boy persona my left ass cheek
He definitely makes you little trinkets or a piece of tech to make your life easier
It's his way of giving back
Donnie is emotionally constipated but he's observant
He notices when something's wrong even if he doesn't know how to go about it
He'll keep an eye on you, and he might confront you about it
If you choose to tell him, he'll get you everything you need and he'll attempt to comfort you
If you need company? You got it.
He'll give you cuddles too because he doesn't mind touch from you
he's probably touchstarved anyways
He'll keep you in his lab so you don't have to be alone
Donnie doesn't really know how to give you verbal reassurance without being awkward but he shows it
If he finds out, he won't be mad at you for not saying anything, and he'll pretty much do anything you want
you're his sweet bby
You can sleep easy knowing he's not going anywhere
neither is your money pooks
rise! Magic Mike
OMGIE PLEASE SPOIL HIM
Buy him random shit honestly he'll cherish it
God forbid anything happen to anything you've ever bought him
"This is a job for Dr. Delicate Touch!" "Mikey no!"
He's big on keeping you safe, but I don't see him as the type to go to EXTREMES unless he feels like he has to for your safety
He is always one call away ofc
Stoppp he always sleeps at your place
He says it's so nice and cozy
aww bby <333
Buy him art supplies and he'll draw you :0
Your sweetness makes him extra sweet tbh
Cuddles are all the time because he loves you
and your money
When you give him gifts he gives you art and makes you foodddd
You buy random shit that made you think about him
Grocery shopping for him too LMAO
Mikey maybe lack observance but his emotional intelligence is higher than yours
I can tell you that with a bucket on my head while shit comes out of the sky
He's going to notice if your rich little self is sadder than sad
Of course he's going to ask about it he wants to know why you're sad!
If you choose to tell him, he'll listen to every word you say
As distracted as he gets Mikey's an active listener when it comes to you
His heart breaks for you and he wants to take you everywhere now
He's going to let you cry on him, cuddle, and even sleep gah dam
Yeah, he gives you reassurance
He's not going anywhere and he's going to make sure you know
You're not allowed to be alone anymore if he can help it
He loves you soooo much!!
If he finds out himself, he's going to talk to you about why you should have maybe said something
It's fine if you didn't want to though but he'd rather you communicate your feelings
Mikey's probably the best at comfort out of all of them
he's a little shit with therapists as alter egos tf?
They're all cuties but i think he might be the cutest in this situation
You both are lil cinnamon rolls, so cute <3
I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!
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Can you actually write something smutty for Viktor? Or just a guide on how to? I really want to write some Viktor smut, but I'm worried I won't do his disability justice as I'm able bodied and a dumbass
Of my twelve years on this webbed site, this has got to be the best ask I have ever received lmao
I would be happy to help, friend. I'll answer this in two parts.
Yes, I am planning on writing Viktor smut for Viktor x Anya. I had a lot happen in the year since I made the post you're referencing, but I've finally been able to get back into fandom stuff. I wanted to lay some backstory with them first though, as I am apparently a PWP kind of person lmao. It's coming soon! (No pun intended).
You've taken the first great step in recognizing that your experience and knowledge may not be congruent with potential portrayal, and therefore asking for advice. I don't mean to sound patronizing at all. I am an author and I have seen many professional authors that don't do this, so you're already ahead of the game! I wouldn't consider that dumbassery in any way, shape, or form.
I'll put the rest under a cut due to the nature of this post.
*Disclaimer to this is, of course, I don't speak for every disabled person, this list isn't extensive, and these are my opinions.
I, personally, operate under the assumption that Viktor has Post Polio Syndrome. Looking at photographs (x, x, x) it's pretty clear the animators used PPS as a framework for Viktor's movements and posture, as well as his mobility and assistive devices. People with PPS often develop need for braces, canes or crutches, and treatment for scoliosis -- all of which Viktor has. You are more than welcome to headcanon something different, as I don't believe the writers or animators have ever confirmed or denied PPS, but based on my own experience and research, I would bet money on it.
That being said -- regardless of PPS, or otherwise -- the first thing to consider when writing smut for any disabled character is fatigue. It may not be the obvious thing, as mobility devices often are the first thing to catch an observer's eye. But there is so much that goes on beneath mobility devices. Fatigue is a big one.
Consider the worst flu you've ever had -- all the time, every day, even in your sleep. It can be maddening, like you can't get any relief -- even if you take pain reliever or use other analgesics. Most people with a severe flu aren't exactly in the mood to be frisky, especially spontaneously. Many physically disabled people rely on preplanning. Having a date night where they can plan for extra pain reliever, or where they can schedule the rest of their day or week to conserve energy for a special night. The psychological energy that people need to conserve alone can take a lot of effort. Being disabled is also mentally exhausting, especially when you have a partner and their needs to consider. Giving a disabled person time to prepare for sex (or other tasks) is essential.
Related to that, is the fact the energy levels aren't always consistent. A disabled person and their lover could be going at it like rabbits for a while and then suddenly the disabled partner may need to stop because their "battery" (their physical energy levels) has run out. They may need a break for a few minutes, or they may just need to end the sexual encounter altogether.
The worst thing you (or your character) could do is take this personally. It has nothing to do with their partner, it's their body that is (frustratingly [on many levels]) not cooperating.
Something to toy with (no pun intended) when writing characters with energy level deficits is vibrators. Twice the work with half the effort. Don't be afraid to write smut with toys and vibrators -- it doesn't even have to be kinky. Toys and vibrators are normal and vanilla, all things considered. The only reason they haven't been normalized is because of patriarchal standards as to what sex is and is supposed to be.
The second thing to consider is physical limitations of positions and potential discomfort. I've seen several fanfic writers describe situations and positions that Viktor simply would never be able to do (e.g. lifting his partner onto a table or desk).
Viktor doesn't have a lot of strength. That's not to say he can't be rough or that all smut has to be vanilla. But realistically, it's absurd to think that he can lift someone else or manhandle them with any force, or thrust at the speed of light (💀). He also doesn't have any balance whatsoever post Act I. During Act I, he's able to hobble somewhat without his cane, as long as he has something to hold onto, as seen in episode three. But in Acts II and III, his balance issues combined with scoliosis would make any positions where he has to stand much more difficult.
Therefore, if you're wanting to write a scene somewhere outside of a bedroom (e.g. the lab, his office, etc.), he'd need something to balance himself. Seated sex is a great concept to play with -- very disability friendly and offers many options for all sorts of scenes. Desk/table sex is also realistic, as long as your character lifts themself onto the desk or table, and he's able to lean on it.
Scenes that take place in the bedroom also have their own limitations. He has zero use of his right leg, which means he'd need more time to get in and out of different positions. Missionary would take a toll on his back, I'd imagine, from being hunched over -- not that he couldn't do it at all, but that was more of a sidenote. Having your character straddle him, while his back was supported, is probably the most comfortable position I can imagine. Or spooning. Or maybe doggy, though I think his back and hips might get tired. But I'm just spit balling at this point. Utilizing objects from the setting is important -- pillows, having your character bent over the back of a couch, etc. This is where creativity comes in -- it's just important to keep in mind where his limitations are located on his body: his back and his leg/hip.
There are also adaptive devices for sex and disabilities.
One final thing I want to say is: don't overcorrect. This is common. It's one thing to keep a character's disability in mind, but it's another to make a disability the entire character. Just because Viktor is disabled doesn't mean he can't have the filthiest, most disgusting, raw, life changing, I-should-visit-a-confessional type of sex. However you headcanon him to be in bed is exactly how he can be. If you see him as a cruel Dom, he absolutely can slap the shit out of whoever has the pleasure of being beneath him, while he makes them beg for his mercy -- with his back and leg supported. If you see him as a bratty sub, he can be that, too -- while he lies there with a back pillow to relieve pressure off his spine. If he's the plainest, blander-than-vanilla type of lover, that's exactly what he is -- while he takes a few extra minutes to move from one position to the next. If he's any combination of those things, more power to you.
The point of writing a scene, is the point you're trying to make. Meaning: a lot of writers worry about conveying ideas and settings perfectly and with detail, while losing sight of the main point of their story. Rarely will you ever have to add paragraphs to a piece of writing in order to convey something, especially if it's not the main point. Often, it only takes one or two sentences. Keep the main point of the scene in mind. If you're writing a fic where Viktor and your character are secretly getting it on in the lab, then the point and the idea of that scene is the forbidden sex they are having. Not necessarily his limitations. You can easily acknowledge Viktor's disability by saying something like: 'Viktor sat on a chair at the far end of the lab, away from the door's line of sight. He leaned his back against the seat, allowing his spine to settle, before he coaxed his lover onto his lap. His lover straddled his legs, reaching to kiss his neck, while his hand trailed up their thighs...' You've successfully conveyed the limitations he has in two sentences, while maintaining the focus of your scene, and without reducing Viktor to a caricature of his disability. Less is more throughout your fic.
As a side note, which is completely my headcanon -- and something I've vaguely alluded to in my Viktor x Anya fics -- is that Viktor also has erectile dysfunction as a result of the PPS. Polio is a neurological virus, meaning is attacks the nerve cells, the main cause of the atrophy in PPS. It isn't common, but it's not uncommon for males with PPS to struggle with ED. As such, in my own personal stories, I have mentioned that Viktor takes medication to help with it. Sildenafil (the generic for Viagra) is a medication that specifically targets nerves.
That's my own person interpretation, though, and has no bearing on what we seen in Arcane lol.
To close this off for now, I want to reassure you that your efforts count and they matter. No one will write any depiction of disability 'perfectly'. Disability is unique to every person, and one person's spinal disability will look different to another's. Even people with the exact same diagnosis and prognosis will differ in how they experience it. You're not a dumbass. You're very intelligent to recognize the need for external resources. Enjoy yourself, enjoy the work you write, and keep asking questions.
If and when you decide to write your Viktor smut piece, I would love to read it. And likewise, if you'd like to read what I write I'd be happy to send it to you! If you're comfortable coming off anon, you can message me privately and we can talk more!
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Okay so I have a request & I can’t get it out of my head. Please don’t feel pressured & I completely understand that you are busy!!
A feisty woman is walking home at night and hears something/ or is attacked or whatever & then meets Raphael who she threatens to tase him in the balls as it’s her fight or flight response and it’s just a hilarious, flirtatious interaction. Could be NSFW/or SFW 🤗
I just love your writing and figured I’d shoot my shot lol ❤️
I am so honored to get a request from you!!! I have some ideas for this so…
*rubs hands together gleefully*
(Also, if you decide to maybe draw something to go with it, it would be kinda cool 👉🏼👈🏼👀🫣)
Threaten Me with a Good Time
Raph x Female y/n
(written in third person, not my usual!)
Warning: Language and NSFW content implied
Bored. As. Hell.
Geez, he’d even take some of Mikey’s dumbassery over this boring stakeout bullshit.
Raphael flipped his sais in his hands thoughtlessly as he sat on a rooftop watching an alley that was getting quite the reputation for muggings. The only reason he was assigned here was because he pissed off the Fearless Leader yet again. He grunted distastefully at the thought of his elder brother’s triumphant smirk when their father sided with him.
“Teacher’s pet,” he muttered, looking around for something he could stab a sai into.
The sound of heels clicking on the pavement below caught his attention and he glanced over the edge to see a woman cutting through the alley. Nice legs, he thought. She wore a pencil skirt and it highlighted the curve of her ass and made her calves pop. Must have just got off work. He admired her until the shadows swallowed her form and then he went back to commiserating over his plight. A shout came from the direction she had disappeared and he instantly went into action.
Just as Raphael’s feet thudded on the ground below, he heard a crackling sound and then a high pitched squeal. He entered the alley at a run but came to a dead stop at the sight before him. A scrawny guy with a toboggan over his head that covered his face was standing stock still and the horrible noise was coming from him. Suddenly, he went silent and his body fell forward to the ground. The woman from before was standing behind him with a taser in her hand. Well, that explained the crackling sound. The would be mugger lay stunned on the ground between them. As soon as she caught sight of the giant turtle, she aimed the taser towards him.
“Not another step, Franklin,” she bit out. “I tasted this fucker in the ass, I’ll go for your balls if you come any closer.”
Raph blinked. Franklin? Who was that?
She had a bite to her, and he did happen to like it spicy. Staying put, he took a moment to get a better look at her. Based on her stance, she must have had some self-defense courses. She was even prettier up close and her legs went on for days. He had to admit, he liked what he saw. Hands up in a placating gesture, he kept his eyes locked with hers.
Softly, he murmured, “Look, I ain’t da bad guy here, lady. I came ta help. It’s what I do.”
“Yeah, well, I protect myself against the dumbasses who think I’m just some poor, defenseless woman. It’s what I do.”
Her tone was icy, but her eyes were starting to soften. Raph decided to push his luck a bit.
“My brothers an’ I, we protect the innocent. We even help da NYPD sometimes,” he told her, sliding a foot forward slowly. She tensed immediately and he heard a crackle coming from the taser. It didn’t have enough volts to do more than shock him slightly but it still didn’t feel great.
“So anyway, if ya wanna go for my balls, maybe drop da taser cause yer gonna need both hands to hold’em,” he went on.
The woman stared at him incredulously.
“I got big balls,” he shrugged.
She couldn’t help herself. A laugh burst out and she lowered the taser to her side.
“You-oh god-you really just said-“ she sputtered between fits of laughter.
As she wiped her eyes, he took advantage of the moment and silently moved closer until he was standing right in front of her. When she realized his proximity, she began to raise the taser towards him, but he disarmed her and stepped back within a split second. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“I’m Raphael,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake. “But you can call me Raph.”
She continued to glare at him for a minute longer, then begrudgingly took the offered hand.
“Y/n,” she replied. “Can I have my taser back now?”
“That depends. Ya gonna try to tase my big balls, y/n?”
She tried to stay serious, she really did, but a snicker made it’s way out and then he grinned at her with such a charming smile. Dammit. She sighed with a chuckle.
“Keep your hands to yourself and I won’t have any reason to tase you,” she retorted.
Raph held the taser out to her, “So, yer gonna do all the touching, is that it?”
When she realized what he was implying, her cheeks burned. She could admit to herself that he was attractive. She always did have a weakness for big muscles and soft smiles. She cleared her throat as she took the weapon from his huge hand.
“So, you work with the police? My brother is on the force,” she said to change the subject.
“That so?” he asked, eye ridges raised. “Why don’t I walk ya home and you can tell about him. Might know’im.”
She hesitated only briefly before nodding. Raph took a moment to tie up the groaning thug who was coming to, then he set him at the end of the alley and radioed in to Donnie that the NYPD had a pickup at that location. Then, he motioned for her to lead the way to her apartment building. Raph fell into step beside her as she talked about her big brother, the sergeant. When they reached her building, neither wanted to say goodbye. Finally, Raphael offered his number to her and told her she could call anytime she wanted an escort home from the office. She took it and bid him good night. As soon as she entered her building, she called her brother to verify everything the large mutant had said, and was happy to find out that he was being truthful.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
That had been several months back. Since then, Raph and y/n had become friends and grown closer. She thought the big brute might have stronger feelings for her, like she did for him, but he was so hard to pin down. She decided she was going to have to take matters into her own hands if she wanted things to progress.
She tidied her apartment, more to calm her nerves, because he didn’t care if it was a mess or not. After a long, hot shower, she took the time to pamper herself, applying her lotions and brushing out her shiny hair. She dabbed on some lip balm to soften her pout, then she dressed in a loose lounge set of short shorts and a tank top. Satisfied with the woman staring back at her in the mirror, she texted him and invited him over to watch the Knicks on her big screen tv and eat dinner. As soon as he confirmed that he would be there, she ordered the food. Then she sat at her dining table, nails tapping on the surface nervously as she thought about what she might say to him.
She had nearly talked herself out of her plan when she heard the sound of her window being jiggled open. Butterflies filled her belly as his big feet hit the floor. Now or never. She painted a bright smile on her face and went to greet her guest.
She noticed immediately that he looked nicer than usual. His shorts looked new and she was pretty sure that he had also freshly showered by the scent of body wash surrounding him. The biggest surprise was his lack of mask. It was extremely rare to see any of the brothers without it. Her heart fluttered at what it all might mean. When she finished looking him over, she glanced up to find him watching her intently. She flushed at being caught admiring him.
“Hi,” she offered, softly.
Raph’s mouth quirked up on one side and he returned with a, “Hi yerself.”
They stood there just staring at one another awkwardly for a solid minute when the doorbell rang.
“Oh! That must be the pizza and wings I ordered!” she exclaimed, grateful for the reprieve.
She rushed to the door and grabbed the food, tipping the delivery person before shutting the door with her hip. She turned around to find Raph right behind her. He had an unreadable expression as he took the boxes from her so she could lock the door. She licked her lips nervously, following him to the living room where he placed the food on her coffee table. She grabbed plates, napkins and some sodas for them and joined him on the couch. He already had the remote and was turning on the game. She made a plate and then sat back on the couch, tucking her legs under her, demurely. No more words had been spoken between them and she was beginning to regret and rethink everything. As the game progressed, he seemed to loosen up. The food was soon demolished and Raph began shouting at the tv and grousing over bad calls from the refs, while she pushed aside her bubbling insecurities and tried to join in. Finally, it was half-time.
Y/n gathered the dishes and empty food boxes and took them to the kitchen. Feeling let down and unsettled, she stacked the boxes by the trash can and put the dishes in the dishwasher. When she turned around, Raph was right behind her. She jumped, throwing a hand to her chest in surprise. Damn ninjas and their silent feet.
“I didn’t hear you come in here. Did you need something?” she asked, a little breathless.
His eyes slid over her entire frame and she had to suppress a shudder at the hunger she saw there. He took another step closer and leaned down so they were face to face. She sucked in a breath and held it.
“I do need somethin’ and I’m willing to bet that ya need it too,” he rumbled.
As he slipped one hand into her hair, and the other around her waist, she let out the breath she had been holding. Raphael slanted his lips over hers, pressing firmly and surely. Shocked but grateful, she slid her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him back just as hard. His hands tightened on her, then she was hauled up against him and his hands went under her thighs to hold her up. His tongue pressed insistently against the seam of her lips and she opened them with a moan. That just seemed to egg him on more. He set her on the kitchen counter, holding her hips and grinding his impressive bulge into her clothed heat. She tore her mouth away and looked down at where he was rolling his hips.
“Holy shit, Raph! You got a bowling ball in your shorts?!”
The big brute threw his head back and laughed, “Yeah, I do. Is this lane open? I feel a split comin’ on.”
She smacked his plastron with a laugh of her own, “Well, you did say you had big balls on the night we met. I’ve been thinking about them ever since.”
Raph smirked, “That right? They been thinkin’ bout ya, too, babe.”
Her hands dropped to his waistband and her lashes lowered as she murmured, “Well, then. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
She could see him swallowing hard at her words and then he picked her up and strode purposefully through her apartment towards her bedroom. She glanced at the tv as they passed through the living room.
“Hey, game’s back on,” she giggled, teasingly.
Raph smacked her ass, causing her to squeal, growling, “Good, the neighbors won’t question it when I make you scream.”
♥️
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