#the fearless leader shoulder touch

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Thankful Reader; HC’s

Anon Request, "Can I ask for Bayverse Turtles reacting to GN reader who thanks them for saving them instead of being scared of them?"

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

 Dudes pretty stoked when it hits him that you’re not running away screaming your head off after he’s saved you from some drunks

He’s really excited and almost loses himself to it, grabbing your hands and cheerfully introducing himself

Probs throws out some kind of pun or pick up line about how this must mean something, and for a moment almost really feels that when you giggle at his shenanigans

A human who thanked him with no shred of fear and thinks he’s funny?! Someone pinch him because there’s no way this isn't a dream

Would slip you his number before dashing off to the calls of his brothers, winking back as he waved goodbye, already picturing you as a new friend

Donatello:

Freaked out at first when he sees you still hanging around after he fought off a thug who tried to rob you, but that shock is quickly replaced with curiosity as you breathlessly thank him

He wonders if this is some other form of distress on your part and does a quick check up to make sure you didn’t hit your head or something

Is even more surprised when it turns out you’re perfectly fine, and you don’t shy away from his touch, a large hand still gently holding you by the shoulder

Donnie’s quick to pull away when he realizes, fumbling with his words for a moment and the soft smile you offer is not helping the warmth dusting his cheeks

The shout from his brothers for him is what saves him from further embarrassment, but as he turns to leave and sees you still standing, watching him go, he can’t help the growing intrigue he now has for you

Raphael:

You’re not running in terror, screaming bloody murder, and Raph isn’t sure how to feel

He just stands and stares absolutely bewildered as you offer him a kind thank you after saving you from random aggressors

He’s quick to catch your hand as it lifts towards his face, more shock coursing through him when he sees the rag in your grasp to clean at a cut on his face

Your fearlessness towards him is impressive, but he can’t help the internal panic

Yes there’s a joyful elation Raph feels, but this is all new territory to him

Sure, he has human friends like April, but even she freaked when she first met him

Not you though, and as he runs off to catch up with his brothers, he finds himself unable to stop thinking of this memorable encounter

Leonardo:

Leo is stunned by your kind thank you versus the usual display of fear he receives, there’s a reason he tried to be super stealthy after all

He’ll actually ask if you’re not scared of him, sounding casual about it but feeling the exact opposite

You’re denying response gives him a sense of relief and curiosity, but also apprehension

Are you trying to trick him? Are you secretly part of the Foot Clan?

He can’t help his skepticism towards your kindness, as the leader he’s sort of built this wall against newer people to protect his family

He’ll eye you for a moment, asking if you’re okay to walk home by yourself, and after he’s sure you are truly fine, he’ll be quick to make his leave

It’s sudden and abrupt and while a small part of him feels kind of rude about suddenly dipping, he’s too busy fighting an inner battle about how his whole existence is to stay hidden, and this new desire to be sought by you

Definitely doesn’t tell his brothers about this meeting, last thing Leo needs is for them to encourage the warm hope you’ve instilled within him

~xXx~

[steveseddie]

shootin’ hoops

steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss

for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie has always known basketball is evil. 

Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons. 

So, basketball. Evil.

Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.

Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.

If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader. 

Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.

Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever. 

Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen. 

Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.

When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug. 

But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process. 

Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?” 

Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them. 

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. 

Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.” 

He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position. 

“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”

Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck. 

“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place. 

So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him. 

“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.” 

“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.” 

“Where does it hurt?” 

“My dignity.”

This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?” 

“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.” 

Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”

“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.

“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”

Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”

Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.” 

“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”

Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.” 

Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”

“Damn, dude.”

“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”

He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.

“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.

“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy. 

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”

Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it. 

In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.

He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time. 

“Is that better?” 

Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised. 

“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.  

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.” 

Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen. 

This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy. 

He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-

But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.” 

Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?” 

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”

“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.” 

“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”

It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now. 

So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”

Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary. 

“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand. 

“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?” 

Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.” 

He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day. 

Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” 

“Sure, man.” 

When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.

“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently. 

Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt. 

“Do you- do you want it back?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts. 

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.” 

Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“

“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.” 

Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions. 

“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut. 

“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.” 

With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!” 

And then, without explaining any further, he leaves. 

In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back. 

“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand. 

Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”

“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”

“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.” 

Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 

Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.

With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.

It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips. 

Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?

Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.

“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.

Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”

After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading. 

Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair. 

Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.

“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”

Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.” 

After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him. 

After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.

After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more. 

“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?” 

“Because you made me play with you!”

Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.” 

Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. 

“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.

“Nothing,” he says meekly. 

“No, you said-”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick. 

“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

“I can’t ignore it-”

Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up. 

“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt. 

The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.

“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.

“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful. 

Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”

The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.” 

“You okay?”

Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.

He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”

His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”

“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”

Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”

Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.

“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”

“About?”

“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words. 

Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation. 

And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream. 

But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making. 

Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him. 

“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up. 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.

Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain. 

“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.” 

Steve raises his eyebrow. 

“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?” 

Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion. 

After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. 

Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks- 

Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all. 

[tusks-and-claws]

The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k 

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

-

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know." 

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible. 

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart? 

"You're right," you said, finally. 

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous. 

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied. 

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?" 

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window. 

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-" 

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?" 

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence. 

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in. 

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet. 

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response. 

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them. 

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious. 

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply. 

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between. 

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. 

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level. 

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him. 

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling. 

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel." 

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were. 

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door. 

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart. 

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering. 

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it. 

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant,  full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him. 

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." 

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good. 

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible. 

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands. 

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back. 

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy. 

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear. 

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into." 

"Do it," you said again. 

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock. 

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening. 

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him. 

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight. 

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that." 

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you." 

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him." 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

[tinydefector]

Hello! How are you? This is my first time requesting so I hope this is okay, but can I request a shorter scenario g1 Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz and Ironhide with a human s/o lives for chaos? They would point at Megatron and say ‘bitch’ just for the reaction. 🩵

Cursing Megatron out

Ps I'm sleep deprived af it's 12am right now and just finished this so enjoy.

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: description of fighting, swearing

Ratchet masterlist

Ironhide masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Optimus prime Masterlist

________________

Optimus Prime

They yell loudly as Megatron goes to grab them, they smash him in the face with a tire iron as he is then tackled by Optimus. The Decepticon leader had ruined their date night. They flip him off as Optimus throws Megatron across the ground, his servo wraps around them quickly pulling them closer as they scramble up onto his shoulder. "Eat shit and die Fuck face!" They yell at Megatron. 

Optimus clutched their small form protectively against his plating, battling protocols roaring. Had circumstances been different, the Prime would have roared in fury at your fierce defence against the tyrant but he was dealing with trying to keep them safe. 

Megatron howled, clutching a fist to his dented face as energon streamed between digits. His optics blazed murder, craving nothing more than to snuff the fluttering spark of Optimus' and the human he held so closely. 

"You've made a grave error this day, little beast. No corpse shall hide you from my wrath!" Megatron bellowed, brandishing his fusion cannon as if to raze the very earth. His field screamed promised agony that sent lesser mechs scampering for shelter.

Optimus vented his battle mask into place, tucking them securely against the safety of his backstrut. weapons primed and wrathful fields promising eons of hurt against any who dared to touch his Human.    

"You shall not harm them, Megatron. Leave. now. while your spark yet functions," Optimus warned in a voice low and in a heavy growl that sounded feral and unlike the Prime.

"Maybe you should get Shockwave to give you a facial reconciliation!, oh wait I did it already!" They sneer back from Optimus' shoulder at Megatron. Their teeth are bared at him as they snarl. If anyone else had seen the human they would have thought they were an animal.

Optimus suppressed an amused sigh at their show of fangs, so small yet fearless against the monster terrorising his people for millennia.  Megatron bellowed in foaming rage, lunging toward where they perched upon Optimus's armoured pauldron. "Insolent pest! I shall grind your bones to powder and force-feed them to - aggh!"

A well-placed shot from Optimus's ion blaster struck the warlord, toppling the tyrant shrieking to the dirt. "Last warning, Megatron. Leave. or face me," Optimus rumbled, field pulsing protectiveness intertwined with fierce Protection.  

With a snarl Megatron takes off. Once both Optimus and his human lover settle from the adrenaline and battle protocols. Optimus cradled their small form within his battle-worn servo, venting slow ex-vapor to purge lingering fumes. His optics dimly regarded their fragile body. 

"That was a foolish act of bravery, little one," Optimus rumbled gently, digit carefully brushing across their  forehead and down their cheek admiring their eyes alight with fire. His spark swelled at the determination.  

"Sorry, I..  I got caught up in the moment, he missed me off ruining date night" they huff out while pressing their face into his neck cabling. Their body shakes from the adrenaline. "I hit Megatron with a tire iron" they whisper as it slowly registers in their own brain.

Optimus vented a soft huff of static, equal parts worry and weary amusement filling his field at their admission. "A valiant act indeed, though foolhardy against one as powerful as he," rumbled Optimus, vocals warm with approval despite the danger of the situation. His optics flicker in fondness. “Please do not do that again” 

Ratchet 

 Megatron let's out a horrific scream as he gets electrocuted. He hadn't noticed the humans who had shoved the taser between the plates of his armour. "Get Tazered Bitch, not so fucking tough now huh?" They shout at the downed Decepticon only to be scooped up by Ratchet. Ratchet swept them into his servo with a staticky huff, deftly dodging the warlord's flailing blows as voltage shocks wracked Megatron's colossal frame. His field buzzed approval at their fearless defence of him. 

"Reckless sparkling! You'll deactivate my rusting struts with stunts like that," Ratchet grumbled, though optics shone bright relief beneath grizzled plating. Megatron howled upon the earth, shaking off aftershocks that would crush the stoutest Autobot, madness glinting a terrifying helm snapped halfway 'twixt beast and machine.

Ratchet backed swiftly from flailing reach, hoisting their small form beyond harm's sight. Ratchet takes off transforming around them before he begins scolding the for how stupid they were, how dangerous it was. And the fact Megatron would personally hunt them now.

"Have you any idea how foolish that stunt was?!" Ratchet's engine revved indignantly even as he sped across the scarred earth, his cabin vibrating with barely-suppressed wrath and equal measure relief. 

His sensors remained fixed upon the precious organic cargo nestled within his altforms cab, monitoring vital readings  "Do you want a personal vendetta from Megatron? Because that's how you get a personal vendetta, you glitched little slagger!" Medical scans analysed each minute shift of breath. 

"Reckless, Just...do not scare me so, small one," Ratchet rumbled quietly, worried and care etched in every bolt and wire. 

"He had it coming Ratchet, plus that Amazon taser is getting a 10/10. 'WORKS GREAT, I Tazed a large alien warlord and he screamed like a bitch, will in fact work on creeps on the street' " they laugh while they look in the revision mirror to make sure they aren't being followed by said Decepticon.

Despite himself, Ratchet's engine sputtered an amused huff at their tone - so fearless in the face of giants who had destroyed armies. "Oh I've no doubt - the reviews certainly won't lack colour!" Ratchet agreed wryly, subtly activating scanners to sweep their escape route while watchful optics remained pinned to their reflection. 

His vents sighed relief upon confirming no stalking signatures upon their trail, enemy or otherwise. Swinging wide the Ark's bunker doors, Ratchet transformed with care not to jostle his delicate cargo. Blue optics peered down aglow with a glare "Come now, troublemaker. No more outings for the next month for you while the oaf licks his wounds." His states while guiding them to the medbay. 

“no fair Ratchet!” 

Jazz

They cling onto Jazz as the bot hides behind a boulder, multiple autobots had been out when the Decepticons had attacked. They are held tightly by Jazz as he debates the best possible to get them out of there unscaved.

Jazz vented softly, hugging their form protectively against his plating as pedefalls rumbled outside their scant cover. 

"Ain't nothin' t'fear, li'l light. Ol' Jazz'll getcha outta here one piece, ya feel me?" he murmured soothing static against their ear, subtly scanning surroundings through plating. An opening presented itself, if he could provide distraction just long enough...

Pressing a swift kiss to their forehead, Jazz.” Go, sweetspark! Ain't got but a klik - I'm right behind ya!" Jazz called desperately over the roar of weapons, swerving and banking with abandon to keep pursuers engaged but alive. 

 "Hey ol' buckets 'a bolts! Over here!" With that, he peeled from cover in a burst of speed, transforming mid-leap to present the biggest possible target, tailfins flared wide. Weapon systems engaged, greeting the three pursuing seekers with enthusiastically snarky exclamations as he led them on a merry chase. His sole purpose in those seconds - buy precious time, before sharply veering back toward cover with afterburners blazing. 

They do take off running but stop as they see Megatron advancing towards Jazz. They aren't far from either bot and in a split moment of bravery or stupidity their shoe is off and being flung right at Megatron's helm. "Your shit ass piece of Junk you lay a fucking hand on my boyfriend and I'll rip you apart with a fucking Magnet and plyers, don't you fucking test me you dipper wearing, goofy as looking supervillan wannabe!" They shout. It make the whole battlefield go almost dead silent. " Yea you fucking hear my bucket head, ill make you wish you were rusting!" They shout again. 

Jazz's optics widened in horror behind his visor, witnessing your defiant act through static-laced vision. Fear gripped his struts like freezing polyhexian tundra. 

Megatron's helm barely shifted from the impact, regarding their small form with optics glinting cruel amusement. His cannon charged with purpose to squash resistance as pointless and fleeting as an organic.

"Foolish creature. Your lives mean less than insects" Megatron sneered, taking ponderous steps their way that may as well have been a funeral march. The field around him broadcast murderous intentions that sent even the seasoned warriors around bolting for cover. 

Jazz would not be denied. With a grief-stricken keen that curdled energon in lines, he flung himself between you and that doom-wielding arm aiming to end what meaning he had left. His field pulsed frenzied protectiveness tangled with pleas no words could voice. 

"Ya want 'em, Megs, you'll hafta go through me first! An' I been dancin' this dance a long time..." Jazz spat static. Jazz was quick to get them out of there grabbing them and taking off. It isn't until they were back at the Ark did he finally transform, arms wrapped around them as he gives the a peace of his mind.

Jazz clutched their body against his chest plates long after abandoning the battle site, fleeing farther than ever felt safe from those sworn to end all he had left. His engine roared wildly, fuel pump pounding faster than any sabotage mission's duration against the relief of delivering them from harm. 

Only within the Ark's fortified bunker did his struts unlock enough to collapse wearily to the floor, holding them close as grateful cries and static escaped in equal measure. "Don't you ever fraggin' do that ta me again, ya hear?" Jazz gasped brokenly at last, cupping their face desperately within his quaking palm. His visor glimmered tears unshed, relief and terror warning in equal measure. 

"Can't lose ya...yer all Ah got left in this mess. Please, li'l light...don' scare me like that." Raw emotion clogged his vocalizer to near uselessness, pressing reverent kisses between choked intakes. 

"He was going right for you baby!, I'm not letting the 3 tonne prick hurt you, so what I lost a shoe next time it will be a hydro flask of salt water and I hope it dents his helm" they state as they grab his face plate returning his kisses with fevor.

Jazz huffed a static-tinged laugh at their fierce declaration, so brave yet trembling in his gentle grasp. His cooling fans cycled accelerated drafts, systems still buzzing from terrors faced alone to shield them from doom's sightless gaze. 

"Frag if ya ain't the bravest thing this side'a Cybertron," Jazz rumbled. He pressed his faceplate into their shoulder holding them tightly, not willing to let go yet. Curling them protectively against the humming mass of his spark, Jazz vented shaky ex-vents. "Mah brave, beautiful li'l light...keep shinin' that fire, sweetspark." Jazz whispered raggedly into their shoulder. 

Ironhide 

 Ironhide shoots at Megatron. His human companion latched to his back as he uses his body as a shield so the war lord couldn't get them. But they were making it rather hard as they tried antagonising Megatron. 

"Damn did they build you like a shit box on Cybertron or did you pick this form yourself!" They shout out. 

Ironhide careened across the scarred terrain, engine roaring as his heavy cannons unloaded volley after volley into the Con warlord's encroaching chassis. Megatron's howls shook the earth, armour blistering under Ironhide's righteous fury for daring to threaten his human lashed securely to broad backstruts.

"That's it, slaggertits, dance for me!" Ironhide bellowed back at Megatron. 

Megatron lunged forward through a hailstorm of plasma, cannons charging in a frenzy to end lives denying his rule. But Ironhide spun on a dime, releasing another blast to cave in an optical relay before transforming ram-tight around you both. 

His engine pounded like the Pit below, field alive with devotion harsh as his bearing yet gentle as newborn sparks flickering against red-and-blue armorweave. When Megatron gets too close they lob a can of WD-40 At him which Ironhide shoots cause it to explode in his face. "Get sunbeam shitlips!" They yell in delight as Ironhide takes off with them trying to get to safety.

"That's enough outta you, squishy," Ironhide rumbled, yet his cannons sang in harmony with your unbound spirit. His mission remained unchanged - shield the light of life, defying all forces that sought to smother its radiance. Ironhide's cannon fire consumed the volatile projectile in a brilliant fireball, engulfing Megatron in inferno. As they take off leaving Megatron in a fireball of energon and wounds. 

"Right in the visual output, squishy!. Primus, I think I'm in love," Ironhide roared instatically, tires biting earth as he tore across the ravaged wastes well beyond enemy sensors. His spark soared like the smelting winds of Vos. Ironhide's engine purred a low rumble as his struts unwound, tension leaching from armour plating now safe. His field pulsed weariness, yet underlying it swirled pride and fierce gratitude for your indomitable spirit so small, yet burned brighter than any star.

"Can't say I approve of y'all's antics out there, squishy. But Primus if you didn't frag up that rustbucket good," Ironhide chuckled, copper-sheened plating creaking in amusement. Never had he witnessed such fearless bravery, nor met a soul so worthy of the praise.

"He had it coming, Ironhide!You're not going to tell prime are you?" They had just faced down Megatron and cursed him out yet they were worried over being ratted out. Ironhide's engine grumbled a tired huff, his massive frame unwinding into a sprawl across the barren earth. He transforms lifting them up into his arms

"I'd be a fool to deny you put the fear of Primus in that rustbucket," Ironhide chuckled. "But Prime's got enough weighin' his wires. Don't need him fryin' more circuits over our antics." A digit gently booped their nose, gaze softening. "Your spark burns brighter than all the Well's glory. Ain't no mech takin' that from you - least of all one as glitching as Megs."

"Our secret?" They asked looking up at him.

"Our secret, squishy.” Ironhide replied, massive frame creaking gently as massive fingers curled to cradle them against his chassis.

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

[demigoddessqueens]

LOVE (sick) spider

Just some headcanons about how said fearless leader would react to the impossible: GETTING SICK

THE MOST INSUFFERABLE patient ever!!

Honestly when he got sick, the look of horror shadowed over his face and he was DEEP in denial

Loud and upset about how he can’t get anything done, and will try to (weakly) fight you or Lyla off before he collapses from the exhaustion

But even lying in bed and Miguel still finds ways to not rest quietly. Constantly calls for you, checks in on all his work and eve tries to leave bed but collapses weakly into your arms

a stubborn man that won’t take his medicine (at first) but complies after days on end

Even when you try to check up on him, even for a brief second, Miguel can’t help but feel touched that at least one (besides Lyla) cares for him, and not because of the fact that he’s the leader

helping Miguel relax is comical in of itself, from tousling his hair to deep purrs and feeling so relaxed his hands do this (based off a hc I saw on twitter)

if you have a closer bond together, he appreciates (more like DEMANDS) cuddles from you. Yes you may or may not get sick (he’ll still take care of you) but honestly now you have no choice with two broad shouldered arms pinning you down

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty P.A. Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion modeling agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.    **curvy reader** **Y/N/N = Your nickname** Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from Bucky), some violence, blood, smut

Next chapter

“So let’s raise a glass one last time to our fearless leader and King of Fashion, Tony Stark!”  Steve said loudly, raising his champagne glass high and turning towards Tony.  Everyone in the room raised their glasses and cheered Tony’s name, who was holding back some tears behind his blue tinted sunglasses.  He smiled quickly and raised his glass before taking a big swig of his champagne, and everyone else joined him.  They all clapped afterwards and Tony gave a short bow.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said loudly, gesturing for everyone to quiet down.  “I just want to thank all of you for being here and believing in us, in this, in me, and for trusting me with your careers all these years.  And I’d like to thank a couple of people specifically who have made this the greatest career I could have ever hoped for, and without whom I would not be here today.  First to my wife, Pepper,” he turned to her next to him and everyone clapped for her.  “You have always been my best friend and biggest supporter, and the reason I get up in the morning.  And I’d also like to thank my work wife,” he turned to Y/N with a playful smile on his face.  Y/N laughed and covered her face with her hands, everyone else laughing and clapping their hands for her.  “Without you, Olympus Modeling would not be what it is today,” a collective affirmation of voices came from the people around them.  Y/N shook her head and looked down.  “You have been my confidant, my checks and balances, my ride or die, and I’m pretty sure my life would have imploded 13 years ago if you hadn’t come along.  Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me, and for this agency.  Each of us owe our careers to you in some part,” Tony looked over the room of models, talent scouts and editors.  They all nodded in agreement, wide smiles on their faces as they looked at her.  

“Now, I know I’ve been secretive on who I’m being replaced with.  I wanted to be sure that whoever I handed my pretty P.A. down to would be worthy of her,” he said, looping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.  She rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure most if not all of you know him.  He started his modeling career here at Olympus before becoming a mega supermodel in his own right.  Please give a warm welcome to my protege, the new director of Olympus Modeling, Bucky Barnes!”

The room erupted in applause.  Bucky Barnes came walking forward from the back of the room where he had been hiding in the sea of beautiful faces.  Y/N knew who he was, and had worked with him when he was first starting out as a model years before.  He was generally nice from what she could remember, and insanely attractive.  His long, dark brown hair and beard were now slowly streaking with white and gray around his temples and his chin, making him look even more handsome if that was possible, and his bright blue eyes stunned Y/N every time.  His career had been one for the ages, modeling and walking for almost every fashion house at least once, and he was a staple at every fashion week.  He walked up to Tony with a wide easy smile and hugged him tight.  He turned to Pepper and gave her a small hug before turning to Y/N.  She didn’t expect him to hug her but he did, giving her a short hug that she quickly reciprocated.  He was tall and broad, firm muscles under her hands that she politely and barely touched before pulling away.  He turned back to the crowd of people and politely smiled.

“I trust you all to be on your best behavior and give Bucky the deference and respect you’d give me…then triple it,” Tony laughed.  “Bucky,” he gestured to him to speak.

Bucky nodded before addressing the room.  “Hello everyone!  I’m excited to get started.  I’ve been longtime friends with some of you,” he winked at Steve and looked at a couple of other models, “and as for the rest of you I look forward to getting to know you better.  I plan to do as Olympus has always done and be a beacon of beauty in all its forms.  I want you all to know that I know where you’re coming from, I’ve been there, and I want you all to have safe, productive, and successful careers.  So thank you, Tony,” he turned to him and clapped a hand on his back, “for entrusting me with your legacy.  I hope to make you proud.”

Tony gave him an appreciative smile and sniffed quickly.  “Ahem, enough of this sappy shit.  So, let’s party, and then I’ll be out of your hair.  Drink up!” he shouted and the DJ in the back of the room started the music.  Tony kissed Pepper then turned to Bucky and Y/N.  “Office?”  They both nodded and followed him into what was now Bucky’s office.  Tony closed the door to muffle the music and sat at the main chair one last time.  He rubbed the desk gently before looking up at them sitting across from him.  

“Y/N, I’m sure you remember Bucky,” he said, gesturing to him.  Y/N nodded and turned to Bucky, giving him a small smile.  Bucky gave her a short smile back.  “Bucky, I just wanted to make sure you understand what I’m entrusting you with when it comes to Y/N.”

“Tony, don’t–” Y/N started, leaning forward.

“No, I need to say this,” he gave her a sharp look.  She shut her mouth and sat back, looking down at her hands in her lap.  “I was perfectly serious when I said this place wouldn’t exist with her.  She has been the one constant in my life since she came here 13 years ago, and she will be your greatest asset as you start your journey here.”  Bucky looked at Y/N briefly then back to Tony.  “I also consider her like the daughter I never had.”

“Other than the actual daughter you have,” Y/N muttered, a wry smile on her face.

“She’s only 6, she’ll get over it,” Tony waved away her comment.  “The point is, I love this girl,” he said, pointing to Y/N as he stared deeply at Bucky, “and want her to have a long and happy career here.  I hope that you two can find a good footing together and make this place great, or even greater than I’ve been able to achieve.”

Bucky shifted in his seat before leaning slightly forward.  “I’m sure with how much you and everyone else has been singing her praises, we’ll get along just fine,” he said.  His smooth voice made Y/N chance a glance at him.  His bright blue eyes gave her a long look before settling back on Tony.  

Tony nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer.  He then turned to Y/N and his smile turned watery.  “Oh, Tony, come on,” she said, a lump starting to form in her throat.  “Don’t make me cry in front of my new boss.”

Tony chuckled before looking back at Bucky.  “Could you give us one last minute in this office together?”

Bucky smiled and nodded before standing and walking out, gently shutting the door behind him.  Tony turned back to Y/N and held his hands out to her over the desk.  She quickly sat up and reached for his hands, intertwining them.  He looked at her for a long moment.  “I’m going to miss you,” he said warmly.

“And I’ll miss you,” Y/N said, the tears starting to build in her eyes.  

“It’s been a long but good 13 years,” he sighed, his thumbs rubbing along her knuckles.

“It has,” she agreed with a tight lipped smile.  “Thank you for giving me that chance all those years ago, and teaching me…well, everything I know, really,” she huffed a laugh.  Her tears finally spilled over and she sniffed hurriedly.

“Thank you for everything,” Tony said, his voice trembling.  “He’s a good guy, and I hope you two can take Olympus to the next level.  You’re the best in the business, sweetheart, don’t forget that.”

“All because of you,” Y/N said, her voice straining.  

Tony let go of her hands and stood, rounding the desk and holding his arms open.  Y/N quickly stood and embraced him.  “If he’s not good to you, you call me,” he warned.

Y/N laughed.  “I think I can handle myself.”

[citruslullabies]

a dogday x smiling critters! Reader where the reader helps and comforts dogday while hes having a panic attack? (It could be from like a loud noise or something)

Awh, poor baby :(

Trigger warnings: panic attack

Requested by: anonymous

Romantic/platonic?: platonic

Category: comfort fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x smiling critter!reader

Word count: 422

Ears Ringing

Dogday was known for his bubbly and cheerful personality, being the leader of the smiling critters! And the leader was supposed to be a role model, fearless and brave. Right?

Well, dogs had very good hearing. And that was a curse and a blessing.. During a sleepover, loud thunder was cracking outside and causing the poor canine to whimper and shake under his blankets. You frowned and gently got out from your sleeping bag, gently placing your paw on his back. “Dogday?” You asked softly, slowly pulling the blanket off his shaking form.

The dog was clutching his ears with all his strength as he had his eyes shut tight, whimpering and breathing raggedly with his tail tucked between his legs from the thunder. He couldn't hear anything besides the loud thumping of his heartbeat and the ringing that the storm had caused, sounding like a dog whistle that just wouldn't stop blowing. The noise was too loud, why couldn't it just stop? All he wanted was for it to stop. That's all he was asking for. He struggled to take a breath in, pitifully releasing it and sniffling as his stomach was sunken in and his chest struggled to come back down after puffing out with every gasp of air he took as his thoughts raced at the same pace of his heart if not faster.

You were shocked by the sight.. poor Dogday. He always acted so brave and fearless for the crew, always so happy no matter what. But everyone had their fears, no one was perfect. Not even the sun could always shine very bright. You carefully pulled him up into a sitting position, prying his hands away from his ears with tenderness. It hurt your heart a bit to hear him wince as soon as they were uncovered. “Hey, hey.. it's okay..” you said softly, gently pulling him against your chest. One ear blocked by your chest, the other by your hand. He was still unable to open his eyes no matter how hard he tried, as if he would see the noise that's haunting him so much.

You caressed his fluffy ear and rubbed his shoulder with your paw, rocking him back and forth with your own body and cooing softly at him. You heard one last shaky whimper from him before feeling his body slowly relax in your touch. “It'll be alright Dogday.. I'm so proud of you, it'll be okay.”

He finally got a moment of peace, drifting to sleep after a long while.

Thanks for requesting!

[seiless]

how would romanced astarion & gale handle finding out that someone made tav cry?

(I kept busy so this didn't get posted as quickly as I wanted it to, but... here it is!! Shed tears to be dried by a pair of hotties U V U)

Gale: Like any decent partner, Gale is immediately stunned and heartbroken at the very sight of it. This is of course mixed with disbelief; it was the first time he’d ever seen you in tears.

The leader of their little band of fearless weirdos was crying in their shared tent. He did what made the most sense in that moment; crossed the space in two strides and was right beside you, drawing you into his arms.

Not a word was said. Your hands curled into his tunic, your face pressed to his chest in an attempt to stifle the emotions that overwhelmed you. It troubled him deeply, feeling how fragile you were in that moment.

Always independent, always capable and unwavering…you were the rock that kept everything together, and the one that the others would look to for the next steps. It was easy to forget that you were still a person. You were still fighting your own demons, even if you put the others’ first.

“It’s alright…” His voice was hushed, a low murmur that rumbled in his chest. You shook your head, fingers clenching tighter. “All is well, my love.”

A bitter cough that he was certain was meant to be a laugh escaped you, but you stayed rooted to the spot.

“You don’t even know…what I’m upset about.” Your words were hoarse and trembling. Gale smiled all the same.

“That may be true, but I can assure you there is nothing you are struggling with that cannot be defeated. At the very least, not when I am at your side.” 

He gently pulled you back, thumbing away the tears that slipped through your defenses. It was hard to see you in such a state; to be so fragile, and vulnerable.

It was certainly mortifying in your mind, of which there was no doubt in his. Whether you’d ever admit it or not, he found it adorable to see such a pout on your lips. 

You pressed into his embrace, your nose as close to his heart as you could possibly be. Gale enveloped you in strong arms, questioning nothing and worrying little.

Whatever it was, you could figure it out together. 

So instead he guided you to the bedroll, and drew you into his lap, refusing to let you go for a single second until you were ready to tell him everything.

It was frightening to see your emotions so raw and upset, but relieving to know that his very touch was what could remedy some of your tears. At the very least, he found it a small comfort that whatever had your tears spilling over didn’t seem to be anything life ruining.

That evening would result in your crying yourself to sleep, though the tears had long been reduced to sniffling and the odd hitch of breath. So perhaps tiring yourself out was a better explanation.

Gale kissed your forehead, settling into the thin blankets and holding you beside him, never once letting your form slip from his warmth.

He would gladly accept the role of your champion of comfort; especially knowing you would be the very same for him during his own times of crises.

That night, you dreamed of pompous but  precious wizards..

Astarion: To be fair, he doesn’t mean to barge in when you’re in distress. Rather, he’d heard the soft sniffling from across camp, and when he went to investigate, he found that the tent flap wasn’t latched.

So when he passed through, he felt slightly bad when he saw how your shoulders jumped at the sound of him.

Though that was immediately overrun when the red around your eyes and the tracks of tears became visible.

Astarion’s gaze darkened.

“Who did this?”

“Asta-”

“Who did this to you? I want names.” He crossed the tent and came to his knees before you, grasping your shoulders when you started to sit up.

“No one did a-anything. Not on purpose.” You shook your head, biting down on your lip in an attempt to stifle another sob. You held up a piece of parchment. A letter.

Astarion glanced away from you and took it, quickly skimming over its contents.

“What is this, some sort of threat? What fool would dare send such a thing to my-”

He paused.

‘With deep regret, we inform you that your mother passed away on the evening of Eleint 5.’

The rest of the language was blurred away, blots of tears evident that quickly turned into smears from your fingertips.

“She was ill.” You pushed your tears with the heel of your hand, revealing the missing black ink that was wet along your fingertips. “It’s…one of the reasons I w-was found by the Illithid at all. I was trying to find…t-trying to find a cure.”

“Dear.” 

Astarion set the letter aside, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You shook your head, lips pursed against the threat of another cry.

“I knew…I k-knew she didn’t have much time left. We both did. She thought it foolish to try and find the medicine. She wanted me to stay with her instead. Enjoy e-every moment. But Father would be there, so…so I-I didn’t think…”

“May I hold you?”

You trailed off at his question, nodding weakly. Astarion did not find hesitation in his movements when you fell into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He drew you into his lap, cradling your head  gently as he shifted, propping himself against the chest filled with humble belongings.

Astarion didn’t remember his parents. He didn’t know if they had a strong bond. But you had spoken enough about your own that it was clear your relationship with yours was deep and loving.

To not be there when your mother passed…surely, it must have been devastating.

“I should never h-have left that house…I never should’ve left my mother behind, she…I didn’t even get to say goodbye-”

“I’m sorry.” He spoke into your hair, holding you as close as he possibly could. He could offer very little more in the way of comforting words. 

What was he supposed to say? Were there any words that could soothe your broken heart (let alone words from his mouth that would hold any meaning).

It was impossible for you to even formulate a response, anymore. You shook, silently, fighting the urge to out and out bawl. Not here. Not like this.

And so he held you. Astarion squeezed you close, refusing to let you go. It wasn’t going to happen. 

He didn’t know how long the two of you remained there; he lost track of time. Eventually, your breathing fell into an uneasy, but mercifully slow, rhythm.

You’d cried yourself to sleep.

The vampire was at a loss; it was hard enough to navigate a grieving partner when the other had emotional intelligence enough to handle such difficult things.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do beyond offer condolences and some sort of physical comfort. 

You hadn’t turned him away yet, so…perhaps he had made the right call. He would hold you until the wee hours of morning, when you finally came  back to life from crying yourself to sleep.

Of course, you made sure to give him positive reinforcement with a tender, trembling kiss that morning. 

It was exactly what you needed, you promised, and you were beyond grateful that he was by your side while you processed everything to come.

Not that he needed the praise…he would remain at your side regardless…no matter what would come.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 4 part 2

Greenleaf

Wolfpaw felt paralyzed, her limbs heavy as she sank further into the moon spring. Claws out she tried to paddle her limbs, but found no leverage, her strength gone.

The water grew colder as she ran out of air, body forcing her to inhale. Eyes wide as she coughed on instinct, taking in more water as she did. Her throat was on fire like she’d swallowed a hundred thorns.

Numbness flooded her limbs with prickling pins, she felt limp as she finally stopped thrashing. Her ribs ached from how fast her heart was beating and she could feel her blood pumping, her entire body throbbing like a pulse. The pressure behind her eyes felt immense as her heart rate slowed. Every thought and instinct dissolved from her mind, an odd sense of calm for a brief moment.

As her vision faded, the water around her began to glow. In her right mind she would’ve thought it was beautiful. But her empty body felt nothing, her sight down to pin points when it suddenly snapped back into focus.

Her body was still and numb, but her mind was clear, panic flooding her just as the water did. She stared at the face staring back at her.

The cat before her was enormous, she could only see their face and shoulder. Striking blue eyes and a long fluffy mane, her jaw tried to for words but failed.

The kind face leaned forward to touch a nose to her forehead and pain rushed through her body once more. It was like she’d woken up from a terrible dream. She could feel the cat’s paw touching her face and as the shock of feeling again subside to a dull ache, the cat spoke.

“You’re so little, I never got to hold you like your siblings.” Her voice was deep and soft. “I died before you were born, my name is Stormrunner .”

The name felt familiar, like one she’d heard whispered around her as a kit. She tried again to talk but still no words could form.

“I’m your grandmother, Jaggedstar is my kit.” She purred, amused by Wolfpaw’s attempts. “I’m here to give you your nine lives.”

A jolt shot through her again, but she could only blink at the Starclan cat.

“Normally it would be different cats giving you each individual life, but I was greedy and couldn’t help myself.” She nuzzled against her. “You’ve given up your original life as all founders must, from the very beginning each founder of the clans drowned in the moon spring in exchange for nine lives.”

She pressed her nose against Wolfpaw’s forehead again, a jolt of pain following.

“For this life I give you the continued courage to follow your path.”

Another wave of pain, this time burning.

“For this life I give you the strength to not only survive but thrive in your clan.”

She had to grit her teeth as mind numbing cold followed.

“For this life I give you endurance, to remain steadfast in your goals.”

The gentle warmth that flowed through her was surprising but a relief.

“For this life I give you compassion, to not only lead but to care for your clan mates.”

A heavy feeling that was neither good nor bad settled on her shoulders.

“For this life I give you pride, to stand tall as a leader before your adversaries.”

Now another jolt on pain.

“For this life I give you fearlessness, so that you aren’t bound by your fears when making decisions.”

Another jolt.

“For this life I give you reflection, so you may learn from your mistakes and the mistakes of those before you.”

Wolfpaw felt slow, syrupy wave of relief reach all the way to her tail tip.

“For this life I give you hope, so you may know your future though difficult will be prosperous.”

The relief dripped off of her and she felt only her grandmother’s paw and the water around her.

“For this final life I give you instinct, so even if you feel lost, your paws will know where to take you.”

“You old life is no more, I hail you as Wolfstar, leader of Saltclan.” Stormrunner embraced her, large body curling around her own. Her body felt lighter and her limbs no longer heavy as she started treading again. Her grandmother’s body faded as she swam to the surface, her body flooding with adrenaline again.

Lynxkit was waiting just inside the entrance when she heard the splash and yowl. She clambered over the slippery rocks, nearly blind in the dark. Her paw pads were scraped when she finally reached the spring.

The water rippled, disturbed, but there was no sign of Wolfpaw. A few bubbles reached the surface, but no one followed. Lynxkit felt like she’d been struck in the chest, she couldn’t move. Her voice caught in her throat.

Tears came to her eyes as she let out a wail, hoping Jade would hear her, but refusing to move, she couldn’t leave Wolfpaw alone.

Suddenly a paw broke through the water and Lynxkit strained to reach it to help her out. Jade’s paw steps were loud as she navigated the tunnel, hearing the kit’s sobs.

She yanked herself onto the bank of the spring, shuddering as her claws grip the stone. Jade grab her by the scruff and pulled her the rest of the way. Her fur was water logged and she shivered despite the lingering greenleaf heat.

“Wolfpaw! Are you ok?” Jade asked, pulling the smaller cat further away from the water. She gagged and threw up foamy biles, eyes watering as she coughed again.

Lynxkit pressed against her side as her breath slowly returned to normal.

“Wolfpaw, what happened?” Jade asked again.

“Wo-Wolfstar.” She sputtered, eyes closed and heart rate finally slower.

“What?” Lynxkit finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

“My name is Wolfstar, I fell in and starclan gave me nine lives.” She pushed herself up, her legs stayed under her despite her shaking. A cough rattled her frame and Jade let her press against her side for support.

“It’s late.” Jade said as they exited the High cave, she checked the air for visitors. “We need to stop for the night.”

“Where can we go? We can’t risk staying here and Wolfp-star can’t walk far.” Lynxkit asked, right on cue Wolfstar let out another round of wet coughs. Jade rushed the group up the embankment to the edge of the thunderpath, hoping no one could hear her companion’s hacking.

“I know someone not far from here. We can rest with her.” She said as the crossed the path again, the black ground much cooler now after the sun set.

“Another loner?” Wolfstar asked.

“No, she’s a kittypet. But we can sleep under the bushes outside her twoleg’s nest.”

“She’ll be ok with us being clan cats?” Wolfstar wheezed.

“Of course shes friendly to everyone. She’s my sister, Sage. We’ll be safe there.” Jade felt more of Wolfstar’s weight on her and was tempted to just carry the cat, but they were already so close she didn’t want to break the momentum.

“Here we are.” She announced as the approached the edge of a yard, far away from the nest’s entrance. The light on the wall of the nest was on and cast a warm yellow semi circle around the entrance. The trio sat in the blue dark, out of the light and close to a bush. Wolfstar had to lay down to rest.

Jade let out a short yowl, making her companions flinch at the noise. But neither had the energy to dart away. Suddenly they heard an answering call, like a kit responding to its mom. Then a tall, lean she cat came around the corner of the nest, her tail up and waggling as she approached.

“Jade!” Sage called out, her smile falter when she saw Wolfstar’s prone body and Lynxkit hiding behind her. “Oh golly, what happened here?”

“She fell into the river, we were supposed to get back to gramma’s tonight but I don’t think she can make it that far.” Jade explained quickly, not bothering with introductions or details. Sage seemed used to her sister’s way of speaking and came closer to the pair.

“Well it’s a good thing I live here then. You all can stay here for however long you need too.” She said kindly, reaching out to touch noses with Lynxkit. “Would y’all prefer to come in or stay out.”

“Stay out definitely.” Wolfstar coughed out. Sage’s face became even more crestfallen at the sight.

“Oh darling, that sounds bad. You’re from a clan right? That means you have a healer, yeah?”

“Not currently.” Jade answered for them.

“Try to rest I suppose. If you feel worse in the morning, I’ll take you to my housefolk. They’ve taken me to get help when I was sick, it’s better than suffering.” She suggested.

“No, I can take care of her. I’m learning how to heal cats!” Lynxkit finally spoke up, puffed up with fear. Wolfstar chuckled weakly, but Sage smiled brightly at them.

“Well then I think you’re in good hands Ms….um what we’re y’all’s names?” She laughed awkwardly.

“Wolfstar. Lynxkit.” Jade indicated each with her tail.

After settling down under the blueberry bush with a stolen blanket from Sage, Wolfstar felt her coughs die down in frequency. Hopefully tomorrow she’d feel better, but for now she enjoyed Lynxkit’s warmth as they cuddled. After a while she heard Jade approaching, she’d talked with her sister for quite some time. Surprisingly she curled around Wolfstar, easily dwarfing the smaller cat, it felt like when she’d napped with Greyclaw or Ashenstep.

Her chest still hurt, head pounding and throat sore, but listening to her companion’s heartbeats and purrs she felt at peace.

[tragedybunny]

If you are in the mood for writing and taking requests, could you pls write a short fic about crying f!Tav and Astarion comforting her?

Hello! I hope you like it. This was actually a scene I had been thinking about for awhile as it fits in with my Tav's story. Thank you to @satanicspinosaurus for the beta.

Lean On Me - Astarion x F!Reader

Your group stepped through the Basilisk Gate after your confrontation with Gortash at Wyrm’s Rock, entering Baldur’s Gate properly for the first time. The clamor and crowds of the city were overwhelming, smothering you in an alien way of life you’d only glimpsed in bits and snatches from the Patriar’s ivory walls of the Upper Gate.

were familiar, and yet not, and entirely overwhelming. You almost stumble as you glance around, trying to take everything in. Muscles tense as it all blurs together and you frantically try to figure out how to navigate the section of the city you’ve rarely seen. Someone soundlessly hovers at your shoulder.

“Everything alright, Darling?” Astarion whispers to not draw the attention of the others. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter before stepping away. There isn’t time for you to be anything else, so you breathe deep and take a step. 

“Should we start at the Elfsong? Could be a good base to operate from, and there’s always information to be found there.” Wyll’s point is solid, and the Emperor already urged you to stop there. 

“Good call.” There was just one problem. 

“Lead on, fearless Leader,” Wyll says jovially, but you’ve frozen where you stand. “You do know the way to the Elfsong right?” 

“I…” Frantically, you try to recall anything you know about the Lower City. 

“I thought every Baldurian knew where the Elfsong was,” Karlach asks, without malice, but genuine curiosity. 

You open your lips, but instead of words, a small noise comes out. It’s not their fault, they have no way of knowing, the Lower City was worlds away from your gilded cage. A place forbidden, it was below you. Or so you were told. 

“You're not familiar with the area, are you?” Wyll offers kindly, sensing something is wrong and trying to take some of the sudden pressure off. 

He says something else, but you can’t even hear him. The busy streets fade into visions of dark, cold rooms with windows to a world you can never touch. Tears embarrassingly prick your eyes as you’re drawn back into a place where fear motivates perfection, where hurt is a price paid to be molded into who you need to be. Eyes that mirror your own, blue and icy as a winter storm, stare at you with disdain. The message is clear: you’re not enough. 

Vaguely, more voices flit across your consciousness, but you can’t focus, until one voice in particular breaks though. “Go on ahead, I’ll take care of her.”

Cold hands clasp yours, a momentary calm in the storm. “Can you hear me, Love?” Wordlessly, you nod. “I’m going to lead you into this alley, just so we get out of the street.” The insistent pull is easy to follow with nothing to anchor you. 

The clustered buildings block the daylight, plunging you into shadows and shade, any progress of Astarion’s reassuring voice is lost. Daylight is a reward for obedience, and there is none of it here. Mother’s voice is in your ear, the matriarch of ice. You want to leave, but the door is locked, useful trinkets can’t be left to their own devices, lest they be lost. You feel yourself trembling, and you know you’re still crying. “You’re not there, you’re safe. Just focus on my voice. You can do that for me, right, my Sweet?” 

Eyes squeeze shut, and you yank your hands away from his to rub fitfully at the scar on your wrist. You never could get away from her, you're drowning in frigid water, you can’t breathe. She wouldn’t let you go, even when your heart stopped beating. Foolish to think you’d ever escape. “I’m going to take your hand again. I won’t hurt you.” 

Astarion makes a strangled gasp when he pries your hand from your wrist, but he holds it gently, rubbing softly with his thumb. “Come back to me, Sunlight, I’m right here.” 

Sunlight. “...you’re bright, and warm, and beautiful,” you can still hear those words of his as clear as the night he said them. Warm, bright, nothing like what you’re supposed to be. Because you’re free now, you’re no longer currency to be traded, your life is yours to mold. 

“Astarion,” you force your eyes open and struggle to get more words out between ragged breaths, burying your tears back down inside yourself. Wide crimson eyes stare at you with open concern, traveling down to where your nails have worried jagged, red lines in the skin of your wrist. Pulling it to your chest, you tuck it out of sight, wanting both of you to forget what you saw. “I’m fine. We should get going.” There’s so much that needs to be done. 

Astarion is never good at hiding his emotions from you, and hurt flickers across his face for a moment before he regains control. “But you’re not, and you don’t have to be all the time.” 

Deep breath, reassuring smile, the composure of a leader. Everyone is counting on you. That’s why they love you, you lead where they can’t. “Really, I’m alright, I-”

Gently, he pulls you into himself, and runs fingers comfortingly through your hair. “I know what it’s like, remember?” Gods, you’d almost forgotten who you were trying to convince. Instincts want to fight him still, to go on, to stop making a scene. But his comforting touch persists, and he raises your stinging wrist to his lips, laying the most delicate kiss on it. 

The tears you’d so successfully banished well back up, and you find yourself sniffling into his shirt, building to genuine gulping sobs. 

Composure shattered, there’s no going back. All your weight leans into him as you cry. “Sorry, I’m sorry, really, I’ll be fine.” 

“Shh, no apologies, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Lips kiss the top of your head, and you bury your face against him, still ashamed of breaking down. 

Time slips away from you as you let the fear and hurt drain away in tears. Astarion’s hold never waivers, soothing words falling from his lips in a low whisper until you finally quiet. There’s an emptiness where it all was, but it’s better than the pain. “I-”

“That had better not be another apology on that sweet little tongue of yours.” He lets go just enough to pull back and study you, concern written on his features, despite the lighter tone to his words. 

You offer him a shaky smile. Despite his faults, Astarion tries to be a good partner. “It burns like failure. I should be better.”

“Hmm, that sounds like it comes from your family I'd wager,” your eyes go wide at his deduction, “it wasn't hard to figure out from the little bits I've been able to get from you. But they're not here, and I am. And I say you're so very strong already, you deserve some time when you’re not.” 

Silently, you let your head fall back against his chest. You don’t have an answer for him because you want to argue. That’s a pointless endeavor, though, both because Astarion is nearly impossibly stubborn and a little part of you is starting to think he’s right. “Maybe,” you finally say. 

“You know I’m right Darling, like always,” it’s such a typical Astarion way of ending a heavy moment, you give him a genuine smile. “But I suppose we should catch up with the others, gods know what trouble they’ve gotten into without us.” 

If only you had time for just the two of you right now, it will have to wait though. More than just your friends, a whole city is at the precipice of disaster. And who knows how many more than Baldur’s Gate will suffer if you fail. One more kiss and you stand up straight, finding the will to press on again. 

A hand catches yours, a reminder you’re not doing this alone. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

 @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess

@lumienyx @lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress

@astariongf

[mbruben-stein]

I fucking love your work

And can you make a TMNT 2012 Leo x Chubby/Curvy Reader?

I love your TMNT work God bless you sweetie🤗💕

I love you the way you are.

TMNT 2012 Leo x chubby/curvy reader.

A/N: I was having a little bit of trouble riding this one. I was just stuck on writers block for a while. I hope everyone enjoys what I write. Have a lovely day everyone and remember that there's always going to be someone that loves you the way you are.

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pinching the soft flesh around your waist. No matter how much you work out and eat healthy, you can never seem to lose the curves and extra weight. Sometimes you feel insecure about your body, wishing you had a lean, slender figure like April or Karai.

As much as you try not to let it get to you, the negative thoughts creep in more and more lately. It doesn't help that you have a huge crush on Leonardo - strong, disciplined, heroic Leo. You're sure he would never be attracted to someone with a body like yours. He probably goes for fit, athletic girls who can keep up with his intense training.

Feeling discouraged, you throw on some loose clothes and head over to the lair to hang out with the turtles like you do most days. You've been close friends with them ever since they saved you from some Purple Dragon gang members a year ago. Although you adore all four brothers, you find yourself most drawn to Leo and his sense of honor and leadership. You try to hide your feelings, not wanting to risk your friendship or face inevitable rejection.

When you arrive at the lair, Mikey bounces over to greet you. "Y/N! Check out this new pizza recipe I invented - pepperoni, jelly beans and garlic! I call it the Mikey Surprise!"

You laugh and pat his shell. "That sounds...interesting Mikey. Maybe I'll try it later." You scan the room and spot Leo practicing katas off to the side. He notices you and gives a quick smile and wave before resuming his focused movements with his katana blades. Your heartbeat quickens at the mere sight of him.

"Whatcha staring at, Y/N?" Raph teases, plopping down on the couch. "Could it be our fearless leader over there?"

You feel your cheeks redden. "What? No! I was just spacing out. Not staring at anyone in particular."

Donnie looks up from the gadget he's tinkering with, raising an eye ridge. "Uh huh, sure." He exchanges a knowing glance with Raph.

Wanting to change the subject, you ask, "So what's the plan for today guys? Any missions to foil the Foot or Kraang?"

"Nah, it's been pretty quiet," Raph says. "Probably just training and patrolling later."

As if on cue, Leo finishes his katas and strides over to the group. "We'll head out in a few hours to scout the city. There's been reports of increased Purple Dragon activity by the docks we should check out." His ocean blue eyes turn to you. "Y/N, you're welcome to come if you'd like. We could always use an extra set of eyes. And I know you can handle yourself in a fight if needed."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Leo has never invited you on a patrol before. "Really? You'd want me to come with you guys?"

"Of course," Leo says warmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're part of the team."

You beam at him, heart fluttering at his touch. "I'd love to come! Thanks Leo!" You try to sound casual and not too eager.

The next couple hours pass quickly as you all eat pizza, joke around, and watch Mikey and Raph thumb wrestle. Soon it's time to head up to the surface. The turtles gather their gear and you all climb out of the sewer into the dark city night.

You follow the brothers as they sprint and leap across the rooftops with ease. Even with all the training they've given you, you still struggle to keep pace with their mutant speed and strength. Not to mention your curvy body feels cumbersome and heavy as you try to gracefully jump from building to building like they do.

After a few minutes, you need to pause to catch your breath. "You guys go on ahead," you pant, waving them on. "I'll catch up in a sec."

Leo frowns and hangs back as his brothers continue forward. "You okay, Y/N? We can take a break if you need to."

You force a smile, not wanting to slow him down. "I'm fine, Leo. Just go with the others. I know I can't keep up with you guys."

He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you behind. Here, climb on my back. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

You hesitate, self-conscious about your weight. "Are you sure? I'm probably too heavy..."

Leo gives you a look. "Y/N, you're not too heavy. It's no problem, I promise. Now hop on before the guys get too far ahead of us and Raph starts calling me Lame-o-nardo again."

Biting your lip, you walk over and carefully climb onto his shell, wrapping your arms and legs around him from behind. He easily hoists you up and takes off running, not showing any strain from your added size.

"Is this okay?" you ask meekly, convinced you must be crushing him.

Leo cranes his neck to give you a reassuring smile over his shoulder. "You're perfect, Y/N. I've got you."

Something about the way he says that makes your stomach flutter. You rest your head against his shoulder and allow yourself to relax as he carries you across the rooftops. Being this close to him feels amazing.

After a couple minutes, you catch up to where the others have stopped on a ledge overlooking the docks. Leo gently lowers you to the ground. You immediately miss his touch but try to focus on the mission.

"What do you see?" Leo asks his brothers.

Donnie peers through the scope on his goggles. "Looks like your typical Purple Dragon deal going down. I count maybe a dozen of them and...is that Hun? I thought he was still locked up!"

Raph cracks his knuckles. "Not anymore it seems. And it looks like he brought backup." He points to several black vans pulling up.

"Foot soldiers," Leo says grimly as the doors open to reveal Shredder's men piling out. "Just what we need. A Purple Dragon and Foot team-up."

You look at Leo in concern. "What's the plan, Chief?"

His brow furrows in thought before he nods decisively. "We go in quick and quiet. Take out as many as we can before they sound the alarm. Don, Mikey, you guys handle the Purple Dragons. Raph and I will deal with the Foot. Y/N, I want you to stay up here and keep watch. Let us know if any more show up. We'll regroup once it's clear."

You frown slightly, wondering if he just wants you to stay back because you'd get in the way with your lack of ninja skills. But you know he's just trying to keep you safe, so you agree.

"Got it. Be careful down there guys." You give Leo's hand a quick squeeze. He returns it before signaling his brothers forward.

You crouch on the ledge and observe as the four ninja turtles silently take out the guards and make their way through the shadows. It never fails to impress you seeing them in action.

Things seem to be going smoothly until you notice another black van pull up and even more Foot ninjas spill out. "Guys, heads up! Reinforcements incoming!" you say into your T-phone.

On the ground, you see Raph groan. "Aw shell, not again."

The new wave of Foot rush to aid their comrades, turning the battle into an all out brawl. You wince as you watch the turtles begin to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies surrounding them.

Suddenly, you notice Leo get knocked back by a powerful punch from a hulking Foot ninja. The brute raises his sword to deliver a finishing blow while Leo is dazed...

Without thinking, you leap off the ledge and land shell-first on the Foot soldier, knocking him to the ground. You roll to your feet in front of Leo protectively. "Stay away from him!"

The Foot ninja rises and growls at you, but you stand your ground. As he lunges, you sidestep and use your lowered center of gravity to grab his arm and flip him over your shoulder, slamming him hard into the concrete.

Leo stares at you in awe. "Y/N! That was amazing!" He seems to notice your fierce protectiveness of him and smiles softly.

You help him to his feet, blushing. "I couldn't let him hurt you. Now let's finish this!"

Side by side, you and Leo rejoin the fight. It feels so natural, moving in sync with him as you take down Foot ninja after Foot ninja. Your curves make you surprisingly agile and powerful.

With your added help, the turtles manage to beat back the Purple Dragons and Foot clan, sending them retreating into the night. You all cheer and high five in victory.

"That was so cool how you just jumped in like that, Y/N!" Mikey says excitedly. "You were all fierce and BOOYAKASHA!"

"Our girl's got some moves!" Raph agrees, giving you a fist bump. Donnie pats your back proudly.

You smile shyly at the praise. Your eyes find Leo's and he is gazing at you with open admiration. "Y/N, you were incredible. Thank you for having my back. You're a true part of this team."

Your heart soars at his words. "I'll always have your back, Leo," you say sincerely.

On the way back to the lair, Leo insists on carrying you again, even though you aren't tired. Not that you're complaining. Being held in his strong arms is something you could get very used to.

When he sets you down in the lair, he keeps his hands resting on your waist. "What you did tonight... it showed me a side of you I've never seen before. Your strength, your bravery, how you didn't hesitate to protect me."

He looks deep into your eyes. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. The reason I get so protective of you is because...I care about you. As more than a friend. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings."

You stop breathing. Is this really happening? "You do? But why? I mean, look at me..." You gesture helplessly at your curvy figure.

Leo cups your face tenderly. "I am looking at you. And I see a beautiful, courageous, amazing woman. Your body is perfect the way it is. Soft and strong. I love your curves." His thumbs stroke your full cheeks. "I love every inch of you, inside and out. And if you'll have me, I promise to show you just how much every single day."

Tears fill your eyes at his heartfelt declaration. "Oh Leo... I feel the same way! I've always loved you!"

Beaming, Leo pulls you flush against him, your soft chest cushioning his hard plastron. "Yeah?"

You nod shyly and he grins. "Then allow me to make up for lost time..."

He leans in and captures your mouth in a passionate, loving kiss. You melt into his embrace, finally feeling fully accepted and cherished exactly as you are.

In Leo's arms, with him kissing you like you're his whole world, all your insecurities fade away. He loves you, curves and all.

[halogalopaghost]

Doctor On Call

read on AO3

“Hey Donnie, is this infected?”

Donatello jerked away from his workstation as Mikey’s foot came down on it heel-first. A large nodule stuck out from the lateral interior of his foot—red, angry, and (oh, goody) leaking.

He wrinkled his nose and used his screwdriver to push the foot unceremoniously off his desk. “How’d you even manage to get a blister there? We don't wear shoes, Mikey.”

He laughed. “You’re tellin’ me, dude. But uh, it kinda hurts, so—”

Donnie heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Hang on, let me go sterilize a needle.”

---

“Y’know how you said to never remove a weapon if you’re impaled?”

Don swiveled around in his chair, only able to see a green and red blur through his magnifying visor. He pushed it up and away from his eyes with the back of his grungy hand, and found a little more red decorating the scene than he would have liked.

“Raphael,” he began evenly, “would you care to explain how this happened?”

Standing on the threshold of his brother’s lab, Raphael shifted from foot to foot. The sai embedded in his shoulder wobbled slightly, but he didn't so much as wince. “No,” he finally said.

Donnie put a hand to his face for a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “At least have the decency to go get the suture kit, then.”

Raph grinned guiltily, then went for the kit.

---

“Heeey, Donnie,” Leo drawled.

Donatello froze, hunched over his workspace. “What did you do?”

Leo must have taken that as an invitation to enter, because his bare feet padded farther into the room, stopping just behind Don. He rested a hand heavily on his brother’s shoulder. “Why assume I did something? Do I need an ulterior motive to check in on my little bro?”

Donnie’s mouth thinned into a line as he stared bemusedly at his latest robotics project. “Well we could start with the slurred speech and the weave in your gait.”

He shrugged Leo’s hand off and turned around in the worn desk chair. It was lucky he did, it gave him just enough time to snatch Leo’s arm before he completely busted his shell. The fast-bruising welt on his head proved Don’s theory.  

“Did you hit your own head, or did Raph finally snap?”

For a second, Leo looked like he was going to deny it, then his shoulders fell and he sighed. “I lost a fight with the cabinet above the stove. Think you could check for a concussion?”

“Only if I get lifetime mocking rights,” he shot back. “Fearless Leader Felled by Cast Iron Pan From Above, what a headline.”

Leo sat heavily on the spare stool. “Fine, fine.”

Don plucked his penlight from the pencil cup and swiveled toward his brother. “See, this is why Mikey doesn’t let you in the kitchen.”

---

“Excuse me, Donatello.”

Donnie startled in his chair. Master Splinter always surprised him like that; he could hear his brothers coming from a mile away, but never their father. He stood and turned to face him, bowing quickly. “Yes, Sensei—oh.”

Master Splinter stood on the threshold of the lab, holding out his shaking paws—the pads of which were an angry red, and growing blisters quickly. Donatello practically picked his father up in the process of getting him to a place to sit down.

“Leo!” He hollered in the general direction of the dojo, hoping that’s where his brother was. “Bring ice! Sensei, you should have put these under the faucet immediately,” he chided softly.

“Yes, my son, I realized that halfway here.” He chuckled, despite how painful it must have been to have Donnie poking and prodding at his hands. “What is it that you say? Six, half dozen?”

Donnie laughed too, he couldn't help it. Anything sounded like a wise old Japanese proverb when Master Splinter said it. And the fact that his first thought had been to go to his son…well, Donnie knew he was no doctor, but it was touching how much trust his family placed in him.

Leo, bless him, showed up less than sixty seconds later with ice wrapped in a thin dish towel. “Sensei!” He sucked a breath through his teeth, catching a glimpse of his burned paws before Donnie placed the ice on top of them. “What happened?”

He looked at his sons from beneath his thick brows, one ear twitching. “We shall tell your brothers a different story, but…I was trying to make tea,” he finally relented.

Donnie’s hand audibly smacked against his forehead. Leave it to the master ninja to give himself partial thickness burns with a pot of water.

Leo laid a hand on Sensei’s shoulder. “We’ll tell Raph and Mikey that you were training and save you the torment.”

Sensei laughed again, more heartily this time. “Thank you, my sons.”

Donnie took the ice away from his hands. “Hmm, that doesn't look good. Let's go back to the kitchen and run them under water, okay?”

“Of course, Donatello. Thank you.”

Holding onto Sensei’s elbow as they left for the kitchen, Donnie beamed at the praise.

---

Three things happened at once: first, a string of very colorful language drifted from Donnie’s lab over to where his three brothers sat in front of the television; the power flickered twice and then cut out; and in the very brief, very dark silence that followed, the fire alarm in Donnie’s lab began shrilling.

All three of them jumped up without a word to one another, expertly navigating their home in the dark. 

“Donnie!” Leo called, skidding into the dark lab.

Raphael clambered on top of a workbench to silence the alarm, sending Donnie’s projects and gadgets tumbling all over. There was no fire, just the smell of smoke.

“Don?” Leo tried again. He stilled, briefly confused that he couldn't find his brother in the dark. Usually he would at least hear his breathing—

Oh shell, he wasn't breathing.

The three of them realized as one, and the scramble began anew. Leo fell to his hands and knees to find his brother, Mikey went for the emergency floodlight on the wall, and Raph left the lab altogether. By the time he came back with the AED, Leo was already halfway through a round of compressions.

CPR on a turtle was…complicated. Their hearts were dead center in their chest, to begin with, which meant ‘the medial joint of their plastron’s scutes prevented compressions too deep’, as Donatello had so technically said. Donnie assured them all that if a scute was cracked or bruised during compressions, it would be okay. But now that Leonardo actually had his brother's plastron beneath his palms, hearing and feeling the groan of it every time he pressed down, he didn't feel so certain.

Raph knelt on Donnie’s other side while Mikey stood over them with the flashlight, trying to illuminate as much of the scene as possible.

“Do you smell that?” Mikey asked, voice shaking.

Yeah, they smelled it. Burned flesh was hard to miss. But treating whatever other wounds Donnie had sustained had to come second to his heart.

Raph tore the paper off the AED pads and carefully placed them just like Don taught him, then pressed the on switch. They all nearly jumped out of their shells when Donnie’s voice, thin and tinny, came out of the AED. “Analyzing cardiac rhythm,” it said. 

Raph wanted to cover his ears. If the last time he heard his brother’s voice was from the stupid AED—

“Administering shock. Stay clear of the patient.”

“Clear,” Raph said.

“Clear,” both of his brothers echoed, Leo holding his hands up near his head to prove it.

“Shock will be delivered in 3…2…1…” Donnie jolted once as electricity shot through him. “Shock administered, check pulse and breathing and resume compressions if necessary.”

Raph put his fingers on Don’s neck, then shook his head. Leo moved to resume compressions, but he signaled him to stop. No, there was something there…

Both brothers froze.

“I have a pulse, but he’s not breathing.” Without giving his brothers any time to respond to that information, Raph lifted one meaty fist and brought it down hard on the center of Don’s chest. 

Donnie took a deep breath, eyes flying open in terror. He wobbled on his shell, off-balance in a panicked effort to flee. Three sets of hands came down on his chest to stop him.

“Donnie, don't move,” Leo said urgently. He took his brother’s pulse, actually timing it this time, and listened to his heavy, ragged breathing for a moment.

The power came back on.

“What the fuck, Don!” Raph yelled.

He looked between his brothers, clearly disoriented, but less panicked with a good view of his surroundings. “Sorry,” he gasped out. He accepted his their help as he struggled to sit up, hands over his plastron. “Ough, my chest. What happened?”

Leo grabbed his hands, flipping them palms up. He wrinkled his nose. Well, he figured out where the burned flesh smell came from—Donnie’s palms were both blistered and slightly charred, but it didn't seem to cover too much surface area.

“We were kinda hopin’ you could tell us,” Raph sighed out, adrenaline ebbing.

Donnie eyed the AED, then looked over Raph’s head up to his workstation. He blinked a few times, then smiled sheepishly. “I, uh. I think I forgot to unplug it.”

They followed Donnie’s eyes up to the unidentifiable appliance on the workbench. Whatever it was, Donnie had long stripped it of its housing and any other identifiable features. Other than that it was made of metal and plugged into the wall, they didn't have a clue what it was.

“You knucklehead,” Raph muttered. “I’d kill you if I hadn’t just finished savin’ your skin.” He ripped the pads off Don’s chest and tossed them in the AED bag, standing up to wash his hands of the whole affair.

Mikey scooted into Raph’s spot and threw his arms around Donnie’s neck. “Don’t ever do that again! I thought you were toast, bro!”

“Don’t do what again?” Splinter appeared in the doorway, body-blocking Raphael. He tapped his cane on the ground, whiskers twitching.

“Oh—Sensei, uh. I just had…an accident. Everything’s okay now. No need to worry.” He tried for a smile. It was too wobbly to be reassuring. 

He gave all four of his sons an incredibly unamused stare. They all ducked their heads, still unwilling or unable to stick their ground in the face of that all-knowing look. “Leonardo, how badly is he wounded?”

“It’s not too bad, Sensei.” He held Donnie’s burned hand out, showing him the minor damage. “I’m more worried about the fact that your heart stopped, Donnie.”

Donatello had the decency to look ashamed. “It probably didn’t stop,” he muttered. “Most likely, it was ventricular fibrillation.”

“Oh, that sure makes me feel better,” Raph drawled sarcastically. “I guess he’s fine, guys, let’s all hit the hay. Are you stupid, Donnie? No—don’t answer that.”

“I’m fine! You guys knew exactly what to do, so I'm fine. Just a little bruised up.”

Splinter, with his ears pressed flat against his head, closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. “You four will be the end of me. Donatello, be honest—what side effects should we prepare for?”

He pulled his hands away from Leo, using the side of one to rub absently at his chest. “Uhh, nothing much. Just, uh, that my heart doesn’t…stop again. Or something like that.”

“Oh, sure, nothin’ too serious,” Raph scoffed.

Only the telltale twitch of their father’s whiskers alerted them to his vague irritation. “You will be sleeping in the infirmary bed tonight, my son. Come, help your brother up.”

Mikey and Leo got Donnie to his feet pretty quickly, and Raph put a hand on the back of his shell as if to say ‘there, I participated, are you happy?’ They helped him the few steps to the infirmary cot, which Donnie was surprised to actually need. Not only did his legs seem unwilling to comply—it seemed that the electricity had left an exit wound on the bottom of his left foot.

Master Splinter sat in the chair beside the cot, pulling the rolling cart of medical supplies closer to himself. “I will treat the burns while you set up the heart monitor.”

“Guys, really, I'm okay.” Even as Leo started sticking EKG nodes on him and Raph clipped the pulse oximeter on one green finger, he protested. “The likelihood of going into v-fib again is infinitesimal.”

“Ahh, darn, looks like we can't comply with your complaints if we can't understand the words yer usin’,” Raphael drawled.

Splinter gently drew Donnie’s burned hand into his own. “My son, it is you that so often cares for us when we are injured or unwell. Let us return the favor now and care for you.”

Donnie smiled in spite of himself, looking down at his lap as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Thank you, Sensei.”

“Didja hit your head on the way down?” Raph asked, standing behind his head.

“Uh, I don't think so. No bumps, no headache.”

“Good.” A smack reverberated around the room. “Be smarter next time, genius.”

Don lurched forward, hands raised instinctively to protect the head that Raph smacked. “Ow! Talk about insult to injury!”

“That's actually injury to injury,” Raph corrected, leaning into his field of vision. “You die, an’ I'm gonna dig you up just to kill you again. You hear?”

Donnie winced as Master Splinter made his first pass with the antibacterial gel on his hand. “Loud and clear, boss,” he grumbled.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to let himself be taken care of.

Just this once.

[kismetconstellations]

Because I'm still bitter... The first time I consciously verbalized that "I hate this show", came when, as I predicted, there was absolutely no acknowledgement of Shiro having no living family on Earth, come the Atlas's "launch date" at the start of Season Eight.

We get shots of each of the Paladins interacting with their families, including Allura as a part of Lance's family, which is a sweet touch.

Then, there's a passing shot of Shiro standing alone and isolated on the Atlas's bridge that he isn't even the focus of.

I had a feeling this would be the case when, ahead of the finale of the second season, the Paladins are cheerfully reflecting on their growth and the challenges that they've overcome preceding what they believe will be their final fight with Zarkon.

Shiro, however, is dead silent, back turned to the others, and, when we do see his expression, he's stone-faced and seemingly deep in contemplation. Something that no one acknowledges, or seems to be in any way concerned about, even with Shiro's history of thoughts that he loses himself in being distinctly unpleasant ones.

When he does speak, it's to somberly offer the definitive statement, "You realize, once we defeat Zarkon, the universe won't need Voltron, anymore." The kids naturally express wanting to see their families, again, once the burden of defending the universe has been lifted from their shoulders, even if it means, for Pidge and Keith, going out and finding them.

Shiro, though, voices no such desires. He dons the Fearless Leader/Black Paladin mask and encourages his underlings that they can't fail, and that's that. Cue them looking dramatically out over the horizon before the credits roll.

One could hem and haw and offer any number of supposed explanations for the unsettling absence of any lifegoals for Shiro outside of "defeat the bad guy and defend the universe", especially viewing this scene in hindsight.

"Shiro and his long-term partner split up before the Kerberos mission. Maybe it would be awkward for Shiro to see him, again, and Shiro doesn't want to discuss that with a group of teenagers, especially as their commanding officer."

"Maybe they intended for Shiro's family to show up later and simply didn't have the time to include them, or he has a strained and/or estranged relationship with his family and wasn't too concerned with going back to them."

"He's been declared legally dead, and the cartoon made to sell toys to kids didn't want to bog their child audience's brains down with the confangled nuisances of bureaucracy."

"Maybe Shiro had no personal desire to return to Earth, and would have assisted Pidge in looking for Matt and Sam had he lived."

And, any of these would be more interesting than what we were actually given, which is nothing, because the showrunners didn't know how to and weren't equipped to handle the sheer level of complex and compounded trauma they had afflicted Shiro with. It was easier to brush it all aside, as that shot of an out of focus Shiro so deftly displays. Especially once Shiro had been killed and effectively permanently replaced as the Black Paladin, then brought back to life and retired to "boring adult" status. They killed his partner off-screen, following the dissolution of the relationship, and briefly showed Shiro mourning the loss,

and I guess that was their "emotional pathos for Shiro" quota met for the rest of the show.

After that, he was gifted his own ship and the position of Captain/Admiral aboard it to sequester him off with Sam, Iverson, Veronica, Slav, a similarly unceremoniously demoted Coran, and the rest of the side characters, under the guise of him being promoted to a position of actual significance. And, as much as I love Shiro having his own ship, and the figure he cuts in that stylish and immensely flattering Admiral coat, it shouldn't have to be said that this is both a massive insult to his character after he had the most narrative significance and pathos of anyone during the first two seasons, and a cheap, cowardly tactic employed to avoid the reality that the writers have alluded to Shiro seeing himself as having no purpose if he isn't performing a heroic duty to others, and being passively suicidal when no such duty exists.

"Don't look too closely, everyone! Let's not linger too long on this!" Otherwise, you'll realize that Shiro, in fact, has no one to support him outside of people who already have families of their own. And, "The universe won't need Voltron, anymore", was really Shiro saying, "The universe won't need me, anymore."

And, damned if the brain trusts behind this show didn't try to prove how little they needed Shiro, only for their story to fall apart at the seams after killing him, and the quality to, fittingly, take a nosedive straight into the abyss once they committed to nerfing and sidelining him while having other characters pitifully attempt to retrace steps that he had already taken, stumbling over his distinct and unforgettable bootprints.

[moonselune]

hello there! I was summoned by your most recent post ^-^ may i request a karlach x minthara x fem!tav where minthara and karlach both desperately want tav for themselves. Rock on!

The way I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure at this prompt.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach x f!reader x Minthara

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't know when you first noticed it, when you had become a toy for the women to fight over. At first, you didn't mind; you were flattered even that these goddesses of women were both vying for your attention. You rarely had to carry your pack, you always seemed to get the best spot by the fire, and you can't remember the last time you put your tent up. You knew it was wrong, indulging in their behavior, but it made you feel special, wanted.

Karlach's fiery enthusiasm and Minthara's cool, calculated allure were both intoxicating, and you couldn't help but bask in their attentions. Yet, what started as innocent rivalry soon turned into something darker.

One evening, after a particularly long day of traveling, you found Karlach unusually pale and weak in her tent. She was usually a powerhouse, her infernal heritage giving her boundless energy, but now she was doubled over, clutching her stomach in pain. Minthara watched from a distance, her expression unreadable.

“Minthara, do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?” you asked, worry evident in your voice as you rushed to her side and Karlach offered you a weak smile.

Minthara approached, a feigned look of concern on her face. “Perhaps something she ate,” she suggested smoothly, her eyes briefly meeting yours before flickering to Karlach. “I’ll fetch some herbs to help, but it's probably best we leave her alone though, just in case it's contagious.”

You nodded, grateful for her help, but unaware of the true cause. Minthara had slipped a rare, undetectable poison into Karlach’s meal earlier, ensuring that she would be incapacitated and unable to monopolize your time. And what a coincidence that all the healers had decided to go to the tavern that night. You could have sworn you had a few healing potions stashed away somewhere, but Minthara had checked for you and clearly not.

As Karlach lay recovering, Minthara took full advantage of the situation. She stayed close to you, her presence a constant comfort. Her fingers brushed yours often, lingering touches that sent shivers down your spine. She spoke in low, soothing tones, weaving tales of the Underdark and her battles, drawing you deeper into her world. Soon enough you had rested your head on her shoulder and drifted into a light slumber, you put it down to being tired but you could have sworn her had kissed the side of your head as you rested.

But Karlach was not one to be easily defeated. Within a few days, she was back on her feet, her infernal constitution burning through the poison. A miraculous recovery, Minthara had commented and Karlach just grinned at her, she could play this game too.

One afternoon, while you were chatting with Minthara by a river, Karlach approached silently from behind. Without warning, she gave Minthara a hard shove, sending her tumbling into the cold, rushing water. You gasped, rushing to the riverbank. “Karlach! What happened?”

Karlach feigned innocence, her eyes wide. “She must have lost her balance. Poor Minthara, I hope she’s alright.”

You bought her act, your concern shifting to Minthara who was now scrambling out of the river, soaked, furious and practically hissing. Minthara’s glare promised retribution, but for now, she played along with Karlach’s ruse. Karlach drew you closer to her, it was a bit chilly out here wasn't it? Couldn't have their fearless leader catching a cold. You two continue to walk along the riverbank, Karlach enthusing about the way you had fought earlier that week, how kind you were to the tiefling kids back at the grove. You felt a blush creep on your cheeks as she told you that you'd be a brilliant wife mother one day.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between the two women only grew. Their rivalry became more blatant, their actions more desperate that even you had become aware of them.

One night, things came to a head. You awoke to the sounds of shouting outside your tent. You hurried out to find Karlach and Minthara locked in a vicious fight, their weapons drawn. Sparks flew from Karlach’s infernal blade, while Minthara’s eyes glowed with an unholy light.

“Stop! Both of you, stop!” you cried, rushing between them. They hesitated, their gazes turning to you, chests heaving with exertion and anger. "This is insanity."

“You have to choose,” Minthara hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

Karlach’s eyes blazed with fury and desperation. “Her or me, soldier”

“If you can’t share me, then no one gets me.” Your words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Both women stared at you, stunned into silence. That hadn't been an option, clearly Halsin and his principles had got to you first.

You turned and walked away, your heart pounding. You knew it was the right decision, but it hurt more than you expected. It paid off though, as over the next few days, the tension in the camp was palpable, but neither woman approached you. The rivalry seemed to have died down.

But slowly, things began to slip back to how they were. Karlach would offer to carry your battle gear home after a gruelling fight and Minthara would The cycle began anew, and you plaid the part as the willing victim all too well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you liked it! I couldn't pick who to win so why not keep the dream nightmare going ! - Seluney x

[shadowsandshapes]

pls do you have any thoughts on Tomura you wanna share with the class?

I'm still very much figuring out how I view him, so I really appreciate the ask 👀 In this episode: clothing. I was gonna do a bulleted list but then got a little nutty YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS I'M SORRY

◇ summary: Shigaraki loves to dress you up :) ◇ contains: Body Worship, Garment Fetishism, Mild Dirty Talk ◇ wc: [600 words]

MINORS DNI 🔪

Fuck – this was embarrassing. 

You fidgeted in front of the mirror – hands pulling at the ruffles of your skirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself. It was goddamn short. The hem just barely covered your ass, stopping just below the curve of your cheeks. Bending over in this fit wasn’t an option. Not if you didn’t wanna flash the lace of your panties to the entire room. Buttons, ribbons and ruffles decorated the skimpy outfit from top to bottom, strategically placed in spots that would accentuate the dips and curves of your body. To be honest, while you did look very cute, this was a bit much for you. Which helped to remind you: this wasn’t for you. It was for him. 

Shigaraki’s eyes stared into yours in the reflection of the mirror. You followed his gaze, tracing every part of your body in his chosen outfit as he appreciated the sight. A blush crept onto your cheeks as he groaned approvingly. 

“Come here,” Tomura commanded, tapping two fingers on his knee. As you walked towards him, his eyes darkened. You had his undivided attention. That alone was enough to make you squirm. He looked at you so adoringly as you came to a stop in front of him – hands carefully reaching up to play with the fabric on your thighs. “Hold still.” His voice is quiet and husky as he whispers his command. You nod, allowing him free reign of your body. 

You tensed up as his fingers begin their cherishing ascent. First, they admired your outfit – lovingly playing with the lace and ribbons as he leaned into you. Tomura could disintegrate everything if he wanted, but he is careful with his touch. It would be such a shame to destroy something so lovely. You looked gorgeous like this. Shigaraki pressed his face against your stomach. You looked down, locking eyes with your fearless leader and lover. His eyes were filled with love and lust, their familiar crimson dulled by dark desire. The feeling of the fabric against his skin, your warmth seeping through to greet him, was nothing short of amazing. 

“You’re so hot,” he groaned out, slipping his fingers beneath the dress. You gasped -- feeling their coldness shocking your skin. “Such a pretty little thing. Wearing a slutty outfit like this. Just for me, yeah?” He was rambling – obsessed with dragging his nails across your bare thighs and watching your face contort into a pleasured, blissful expression. 

“Tomura,” you moaned out his name, making his heart jump in his chest. Fuck. That adorably embarrassed look was made for you. The blushing cheeks, the broken voice. It suited you so well. You were the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“You’re gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you?” he asked – a giddy giggle bubbling in the back of his throat. The sight of you trembling beneath his touch in such a skimpy-looking outfit had his cock rock hard. This was exactly what he had in mind when he suggested you wear something nice for him. “Of course you are,” Tomura concluded impatiently, already slipping two of his digits into your underwear. They prodded at your folds – earning a slew of quiet gasps and moans from your trembling lips. You were soaked. “Glad to see I’m not the only one enjoying this –” he hissed out, spreading your wetness all over his fingers as he slipped them inside. Your knees buckled as you lurched forward – grabbing onto his shoulder for support. 

“Please, Tomura –”

He hushed your cries – curling his fingers inside of you. “Don’t worry, (Y/n), I’m gonna fuck you soon, I promise – I wanna paint these clothes white.”

[Masterlist]