#so many turtle dads……… chin hands

[desceros]

ok so the maternal instincts are slightly higher than usual today...

[peeks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Bayverse Leo wanting a baby]

i am positively,, going to,,, McLose it when you post that fic

ooooh it’s over here on ao3 for you to enjoy!!

that just leaves the we do it together verse rise leo and papatello fics for turtle dads…. well. for now [weeps at the state of my wip pile]

#ask tag #so many turtle dads……… chin hands

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Love your bay children series! Can you please write how the bay turtles are as uncles and how their nephews and nieces are with them <3

Du skriver även jätte bra! Puss och kram

The Kids and Their Uncles (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I’ve made these with the focus on you and said turtle’s childrens’ relationship with one of the uncles. Hope that makes sense, lol. Oh, btw, the advice Leo gives Mini is actually one my psychiatrist gave me. Hopefully it also works for others💚

Og mange tak! Jeg har også øvet mig længe💚

(D/W/N) = Donnie’s wife’s name.

Warnings: None💙❤️💜🧡

Leonardo:

“Uncle Mikey!”, 16 year old Romeo called out, holding his odachi high above his head, gleaming with pride when Michelangelo entered the dojo. “See what I can do!” What followed was a series of fast movements that ended with him posing with his odachi just in front of him, shining in the light.

Gerardo let out a sound of amazement, while Marcello rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Show off”.

“Wow, when did you learn that?”, Mikey smiled, knowing how hard his oldest nephew had trained, since Master Splinter first gave him his odachi at the age of 15.

“I learned it myself”, Romeo said proudly, before swinging the odachi in a manner that reminded Mikey of a teenage Leonardo. No doubt that was the oldest son of the fearless leader. “I’m going to show dad later. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“You’re asking if your father will be happy to see something you have learned yourself?”, Mikey asked, his serious tone breaking with his smile as he ruffled the top of Romeo’s head, letting his nephew know that he was joking. “Of course he will. That’s the kind of stuff that will make your old man proud”.

“Me too!”, Gerardo yelled out, mimicking his oldest brother’s moves, but without any weapon in his hands.

“Leo! Is that you?”, Mikey asked jokingly, making the 10 year old laugh loudly, before Romeo put his weapon away, so he and Gerardo engaged in some light hearted sparring, their laughter echoing loudly through the dojo.

Mikey turned to find his other nephew sitting in the corner of the room, watching his brothers run around with a small scowl. Mikey was no stranger to Marcello’s tempered episodes, having been present to many of them, or at least within ear shot. So as he made his way over to the 13 year old Marcello, he knew exactly what was going on. But he would let the young half mutant have a chance, at explaining what he was feeling.

“Hey there, big guy”, Mikey said, taking a seat on the floor next to the grumpy teenager. Marcello shot him a look and greeted him with a small hey, resting his chin in his hand. “Why are you sitting over here?”

“Because those two are taking up the whole dojo”, Marcello mumbled, nodding to his brothers. “A guy can’t get space around here”.

Mikey watched Marcello have his brothers for a moment, before he decided to stand, turning to his nephew with a smile. “Well, guess we then have to make some space”, he said, Marcello looking at him in curiosity. “Ever tried nunchucks before?”

“No”, Marcello answered, unable to hide his smile as he stood up. “Can I try yours?”

“Of course you can”, Mikey said, pulling his nunchucks from his belt, holding them out in front of Marcello, watching his face light up even further. And Mikey’s next words only served to make him smile even brighter. “Time to show your father something the others can’t”.

Raphael:

Raph had never really been good at meditating. He had never really liked it, and he generally had a hard time keeping his mind calm for so long. But he did really want his children to learn it. Or at least get familiar with it, should they ever get to a position where they would need it. And therefore Raph asked Leonardo for help. Leo had always been a natural at meditating, and had for the most part successfully taught his own children to do it, so maybe he could teach Raph’s children the same.

And that was how Leo ended up in the dojo with his nephew and two nieces, helping them clear their minds, the same way that had worked for his own children. But Leo soon found himself facing a difficult situation - these were his nieces and nephew, the children of his hot-tempered and at times inpatient brother. And that much was obvious, from the way the three children had a hard time sitting still, almost refusing to go too far into their own heads.

As Leo spoke about slow breathing, keeping their eyes closed, and bringing their thoughts to focus on the said breathing, only Joan seemed to be able to sit still, wanting to get this over with, so she could go back to whatever a 13 year old teenage girl liked to speed her time with. But her younger siblings weren't finding it as easy. 6 year old Ragnar had a hard time concentrating, his attention being grabbed by every sound outside the dojo, creating all sorts of images in his head. All from his mother and father watching television, to a monster breaking through the entrance of the lair, making him uneasy. Minerva however, just couldn’t sit right. Her legs kept falling asleep and her skin kept crawling, her knee impatiently bouncing in its bent position, pushing up against Joan, drawing an irritated sigh from the frustrated teen, who had just managed to empty her head for a short moment.

“Mini, stop moving your leg”, Leo said without opening his eyes, causing Ragnar to look at him in amazement. How did he do that?

“But, uncle Leo”, Mini said, laying down onto her back, stretching out on the dojo floor. “Meditation is so hard and boring”.

“If you shut up, it maybe wouldn’t be so hard”, Joan mumbled, shooting her little sister a look that made Mini sit back up.

Leo opened his eyes, taking a moment to study Mini as she still couldn’t sit still. “Can you say why it's hard and boring? It’s okay, there’s no right or wrong answer”.

Mini sat for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek, thinking her answer through. "It's hard to empty my head”, the 9 year old mumbled.

Leo looked at Mini and thought for a moment, before he finally smiled at her, noticing the relieved expression on her face.

“That’s okay”, Leo said, adjusting his legs. “It’s very hard to just empty your head, especially when you’re used to thinking a lot. What you can do instead, is to notice your thoughts. Take note of them and let them be. Don’t fight them, but let them flow naturally. Hopefully that will feel easier”.

Mini nodded with a bright smile, before folding her legs once more, actually being able to sit still this time. Smiling at the sight, Leo turned his attention towards Ragnar, noticing how he kept throwing glances at the dojo doors.

“Do you want to sit next to me, Ragnar?”, Leo asked, holding out his hand to the small boy. Ragnar nodded before making his way over next to Leo, taking a good hold of his hand, before he sat down next to him with his legs crossed, for once not looking towards the door, when he heard the small sounds coming from the other side.

Donatello:

Sometimes it just happened, and Raph wasn’t really sure how. He would walk into a room, find his nephews and nieces playing with something, either with or without his own children, and suddenly he would be sitting down with them, playing along, all full of life and energy. And today wasn’t any different.

Raph had found his 10 year old nephew, Galileo at the kitchen table, scribbling away at pieces of paper with thick colorful crayons, and a concentrated expression on his face - one that very much reminded Raph of Donatello, whenever he was in deep concentration inside his lab.

Raph had asked Gali about what he was drawing, and soon he sat with his nephew at the kitchen table, drawing all sorts of stars and action heroes, causing Gali great amusement, as they took turns adding to the drawing. However, as the two of them continued their drawing game, they were soon joined by Marie and Dorothy.

The two 5 year old girls sat at the table, grabbing their own pieces of paper and a handful of crayons, only for their attention to be fully caught by Gali and Raph’s drawings. And of course, the two girls wanted in, wanting to join their older brother and their uncle.

“Can we play too?”, Dorothy asked, trying to touch the paper with her pink crayon, only for Gali to turn to her with a dirty look. A look that even Raph has seen many times, whenever Gali felt like his sisters crept in on his personal space.

“No, me and uncle Raph are busy”, Gali said, doing a hand movement, as if he was trying to shoo his sisters away.

“But we want to play!”, Marie whined, her green crayon in hand.

“I said no”, Gali said, turning his back on his sisters, pushing his paper further away from them. And of course, this action caused tears to gloss over the girls eyes, looking longingly at the paper he and Raph had been drawing on.

“You know what?”, Raph suddenly said, catching the attention of the three children once more. “I have a better idea”.

Standing from the table, Raph grabbed the stack of paper, before splaying them out over the kitchen table, until the whole surface was covered in the white paper. The three kids, seeming to understand what Raph was doing, looked up at their uncle with wide smiles, grabbing onto the crayons with excitement.

“Let’s draw the biggest drawing ever!”, Raph said, watching with a happy smile, his nephew and niece smiled at each other, before turning their attention towards the many papers in front of them.

As Raph and three kids continued their drawing, the other kids slowly came to the table, taking a look before adding onto the large piece themselves. It didn’t take long before all the kids of the lair sat around the kitchen table, drawing until there was almost no crayons left.

Michelangelo:

1.5 year old Luis had been sick for a few days now, crying for both you and Mikey at all times. The poor little guy was teething, and with that came sickness and pain, and so, you and Mikey was hung up, spending most of your time with your crying child, trying to soothe the pain in his gums. And this left Sunny BORED. Ever since Luis had gotten sick due to his teething, Sunny had been a bored and sighing mess. She wandered around the lair, waiting for the moment Luis got better, so either you, Mikey or maybe even Luis could come play with her. But until then, she would have to entertain herself, or find someone else to do so. And that was how she ended up in the lab with her uncle, draping herself over a small table on the other side of the room, with a small installation of the solar system on it.

Donnie saw his niece enter the lair, and spoke to her without looking away from his work. “Hey, Sunny. How’s it going?”

“Bored!”, Sunny groaned, resting her chin on the table, her eyes staring at the small earth in front of her. “Luis’ sick, so there’s nothing to do”.

“That doesn’t sound good”, Donnie said, turning his chair so he could watch Sunny, making sure she wasn’t getting her fingers into something she shouldn’t. She had a tendency to touch whatever she found interesting. And just as Donnie had thought, she was now poking at the miniature solar system. “Have you asked Gali if he wants to play?”

“He’s reading with aunt (D/W/N)”, the girl mumbled. However, her flighty attention and curiosity was very soon taken by the miniature she was playing with. “What is this?”

“That?”, Donnie asked, rolling his chair over to her. “That’s the solar system. The one you’re touching right now is earth”.

“Earth”, Sunny repeated, her attention jumping to the small white ball beside it. “What’s this?”

“That’s the moon”, Donnie answered.

“The moon?”, Sunny asked, her eyes shining with excitement. “Like the one in the sky?”

“Yes”, Donnie smiled. “Like the one in the sky”.

“Do there live fairies on the moon?”, Sunny asked, pushing the moon spindle, so it made a rush of circles around the earth.

Donnie chuckled at her question. She was truely Mikey’s daughter.

“Do you want fairies to live on the moon?”, Donnie asked, watching Sunny study the solar system. His niece looked at him and nodded. “Then in that case, there lives moon fairies on the moon. But they are hard to find. They neither like robots or beings that aren’t fairies themselves”.

“But I’m a fairy!”, Sunny exclaimed.

“You are!?”, Donnie asked, acting surprised. He looked around, acting as if he was thinking, making Sunny laugh. “But we’re in my lab! There are robots! Come on fairy, let’s get you out of here and find some of your fairy friends!”

And with a loud giggle, Sunny ran out of the room, waiting for Donnie to close the door to the lab behind him, before they continued their fairy game in the living area.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse leo #tmnt bayverse leo x reader #tmnt bayverse leonardo #tmnt bayverse leonardo x reader #tmnt bayverse raph #tmnt bayverse raphael #tmnt bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse raph x reader #tmnt bayverse donnie

[obxone]

For Me (Part 5)

Edited-ish-- ~1.9k words

Thank you for the feedback! I really appreciate you guys wanting more and not being afraid to tell me.

Tag list: @rafecameronsbadussy

Master Page

“Mom!” You call as you let yourself into your front door. “Dad!”

The house is quiet, and you glance at Rafe as he follows you into the house. He notices you fidgeting and reaches down to take your hand in his. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, leaning down, so his lips are by your ear. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart.”

You smile at him, nudging your forehead against his chin before exhaling a steadying breath and turning towards the quiet house. “Anyone home?” You call louder. 

“In here, Honey!” Your mom’s voice filters out from the family room. 

“Come on,” you say, taking Rafe’s hand in yours as you lead the way to the family room. Both your parents look away from the TV at you and Rafe. “Hey.” You smile at them, nervous to tell them bout you and Rafe. You had kept it to yourself for a week to make sure he could hold up his promise, and he had. 

“Everything okay?” Your mom asks, pausing the tv and sitting up straighter. 

“Umm… yeah,” you say before looking at Rafe, who is staring at you. A small smile on his lips at how nervous you are. You turn back to your parents. “I have news.”

“We can see that,” your dad chuckles, looking at your hand in Rafe’s. 

You blush a little before smiling at them. “Rafe and I are together.”

“We know,” your mom says with a teasing smile. “Or at least we suspected after Midsummers.”

“You did?” You ask, letting the surprise show in your voice, and she nods with a bright smile while getting to her feet and crossing to you. She hugs you tightly and then Rafe. 

“I saw the looks you two shared all night long. Those kinds of looks are not shared between friends.”

“Mom!” You blush, and she laughs before patting your cheek.

“You were nervous for nothing,” Rafe murmurs in your ear, teasing you, and you nudge him with your elbow making him chuckle.

“Rafe, stay for dinner tonight,” your dad says, standing and moving behind your mom. His hands are on her shoulders as he looks at you two with a broad smile. “We’d love to have you. It is pizza night.”

“Homemade pizza,” your mom emphasizes. 

“I’d love to.”

They both beam at Rafe before you clear your throat. “We are going to go upstairs for a bit.”

“Have fun,” your mom smiles at you brightly as you lead Rafe out of the room. You hear her faintly coo to your father, and you blush hot, knowing Rafe can hear it as well. 

Rafe follows you to your room but does not say a word. You note the smirk teasing his lips after hearing how much your parents liked him. You open your bedroom door and step back to let him go first. 

“Go ahead.” You whisper.

He grins then, dipping his head to kiss your lips in a quick peck before walking into the room. You take him in, Rafe is in your bedroom, something you never expected to see in your lifetime. 

You watch him walk around while looking at everything. His fingers trail over trinkets, and a stack of books, then he smiles at the photos littering one of our dressers, your happiest moments in life. 

“Dinner will be soon,” you murmur, and he lifts his head from looking at a collection of ceramic turtles to meet your gaze. 

“Where do you get these?” He asks, lifting your favorite one. The emerald green color of the shell is one of your favorite shades.

“That one is from Jamaica,” you say while moving to him. You slide your arms around his waist as he moves to the next one. “That one is Mexico.” He starts to touch each one, and you laugh a little. “Miami. Savannah. Charleston. Bahamas.”

“You’ve been to the Bahamas?”

You nod. “Two winters ago. We did Christmas there.”

“We should go some time. We have a house on Paradise Island.”

“That would be nice,” you hum and lean on your toes to peck his lips. You let him go as he moves to your bookshelf. His fingers skim over titles. His brows knitted together, lips puckered as he tries to reach each title. 

“How many books have you read?”

He does not lift his head to look at you but continues to skim the rows. 

“I dunno.” You sit on the bench that was placed at the foot of your bed.

“Favorite book then?”

You laugh a little. “I don’t have a singular favorite.”

He turns to look at you then. A smile teases his lips. “I do.”

“Oh?” 

He nods, going back to browsing. “We are writing it.”

You laugh then, cheeks warm with a blush. “That was cliche as hell, Rafe Cameron.”

He crosses the distance between you, his forehead pressed against yours. “Maybe you can write it one day.”

“Who says I will be an author?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the journals lined along the bottom shelf. Or the sticky notes with book ideas stacked on the third shelf.”

You gasp and lean back to check if he is right, and he is. You turn back to him, and he chuckles before pulling you up onto your feet and into his arms. 

“I like being in here,” he muses, his chin resting on your head, arms around your shoulders as yours stay around his waist. “It smells like you, and I can see the small details that make up the beautiful girl I’m beginning to fall in love with.”

“Oh,” you whisper. The ‘L’ word sends your heart into your throat.

His lips press to the crown of your head. “I know, we’ve only been dating a week, but I’ve wanted you for years.”

“Dinner is ready!” Your mother calls up the stairs, and it shatters the bubble around you.

“Ready?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Almost.” You step back to look up at him. Your hands cup his face before you press your lips to his. “I can see myself loving you so deeply, Rafe Cameron. You are an incredible boyfriend. But I will be honest and say I’m fucking terrified that you are going to ruin me without even trying to.” You remove your hands and head for the door, but you do not feel him behind you. You turn to see him watching you, a contented smile on his face. “Dinner is ready…”

“Yeah, it is.” He clears his throat, running his hand down the back of his neck to come to you. You both walk down hand in hand to see your parents at the dining table. Rafe does the gentleman thing and pulls out your chair for you before he sits next to you, his hand on your leg as your parents talk about the pizza and ask him questions after you all begin to eat. You eat quietly, engaging when needed, but Rafe expertly fields all of their questions.

“Are you lovebirds staying in tonight?” Your dad asks as he helps your mom clear the table.

“Sarah is having a movie night with some friends at Tanneyhill,” Rafe says, almost too casually for a lie, while running his hand through his hair. “And it’ll go late, so I think they are planning a sleepover, right?” He asks you, turning his gaze to you. 

“Yes,” you respond quickly. “And you are going to Kelce’s, right?”

“Right,” he agrees and turns to your parents. “I promised to return her to Sarah after we came here.”

“Okay,” your mom and dad agree without a second thought before going to the kitchen.

“I don’t like lying.” You whisper to Rafe. “They are great parents and don’t deserve it.”

“It’s only for tonight,” he says before pecking your lips. “Or no dessert.”

You shake your head at his teasing before standing. “I need to pack an overnight bag.”

“I’ll come.” He stands, drops his napkin on the table, and follows. His hands are on you as you go back upstairs.

— — — — 

Rafe led the way into the kitchen before you dropped the reusable cooler tote onto the counter. You were proud of the treat Rafe had bought for everyone. 

“Is that what I think that is?” Wheezie looks up from her iPad. The familiar lemon-yellow bag with a red cursive logo makes her face light up. You grin and give her a quick nod. “No freaking way!” She is out of her chair and digging into the bag as you laugh and lean into Rafe’s side. His lips press to your temple. She pulls out the three different pints with glee. 

“Go tell the others before you dig in,” he says to her. She rolls her eyes but does as he says. 

You tip your head to look up at him. “Such a good big brother.”

He rolls his eyes, and you step away, slapping his chest playfully at his eye roll before moving to open the cabinets and pull down bowls for everyone. You collect the spoons and an ice cream scooper next while Rafe’s gaze burns into your skin the entire time. 

“Wheezie said you brought Louie’s?” Sarah says, walking into the kitchen. 

“We did,” you chime as you nudge the tote with your elbow. “I asked Rafe to stop on the way back after he suggested dessert.” You eye him teasingly, knowing that was not what he had meant. 

“I hear we have Louie’s!” Ward calls, coming into the kitchen with Wheezie hot on his heels and Rose following a few steps behind them. You move away from the counter to allow them room. Rafe’s arms wrap around your waist as his chest presses against your back. 

“It was Rafe’s idea,” you offer. 

Ward looks up at you both, and he smiles brightly. “Good thinking Son!”

“Thanks, Dad,” he responds, his hand pressing against your stomach before he kisses your face a few times. You could tell Ward praising him had made his night. “Our turn,” he says, pushing you towards the ice cream once they all had what they wanted and went to sit on the patio. 

“What flavor?” You ask as you grab the last bowl. You would share with him.

“Chocolate,” he says simply, moving to be against you again. “And strawberry.” He watches your every move as you put chocolate in a bowl with a half scoop of strawberry before sticking two spoons in. You smile at him, noticing that the strawberry has been your favorite selection. “We can share a spoon, Baby.”

“Are you going to hand-feed her too?” Sarah asks from the doorway, and you laugh a little before you reach back to pat his hip. 

“Maybe,” Rafe jokes before glaring at her. “Jealous?”

“Sarah?” You ask before she can respond to him, leading to the start of an argument.

“Yeah?”

“Movie night after ice cream?”

“Sure!” She grins as she goes with a new spoon in her hand. Rafe groans behind you, but you ignore him. 

“Now, I didn’t lie.”

“You are sleeping over in my bed,” he says, taking the bowl of ice cream and your hand before leading the way out to the patio. 

Part VI

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron

[personne-writes]

Dad material

Part 6 - Reading level

(word count: 2k)

--------

Michelangelo hasn’t learnt to read the traditional way, what with being a mutant turtle growing up in the sewers and everything. 

Of course, reading is something Splinter has taught them, along with many other basic skills. Not as soon as humans or Yokais do, maybe. And probably not as thoroughly as to understand the complex mechanisms of linguistics or to write academic papers. Still fast and good enough for them to be able to keep up with their cherished comics over their teenage years, though - and to never fall behind with charts and reports now. 

Michelangelo wouldn’t say his reading skills are lacking in any way, but he’ll admit that when it comes to knowing what a normal kid’s learning curve should look like, he doesn’t really have any timeframe to rely on. 

So, he doesn’t know if it’s normal for an eleven-years-old boy born in the midst of an apocalypse to be reading The Fellowship of the Ring. 

He doesn’t know, but when he sees Casey Junior frowning down on the voluminous novel, he can’t help but think it feels a little much. 

“Hey, Leo," he starts as he plops into a seat next to his brother in the conference room, "quick question. Do you know who the English language teacher is?”

“What?” Leonardo mutters, not looking up from the schematics he's studying. 

Mikey drops his chin into his hands, elbows braced on the table. “You know, at the kids’ school. Who’s the teacher?”

“Why?” his brother asks absentmindedly. 

“Because I think they might be asking kids to read stuff way above their level.”

Leonardo probably reaches the conclusion that he can't navigate this conversation while focusing on his plans, because he drops them on the table and turns to him. “Mikey. What are you talking about?”

Mikey shifts in his seat. "I just saw Junior reading this big ass book, and it bugged me because I can't remember him reading anything other than comics, right? So I asked him what it was, and it's the fucking Fellowship of the Ring. Can you believe that?"

Leo blinks. “How… is that a problem?”

“The Lord of the Rings, Leo!" Mikey huffs, throwing his hands in the air. "It’s like, a trillion pages long, and it’s so boring at first, what were they even thinking? I tried to read it and couldn’t make it past page 50, and by then I was fifteen and I was a total fan of the movies already -"

"Casey's seen the movies, too," Leo informs him, expression slightly confused. 

Mikey gives a dramatic sigh. 

"My point is, starting off with this? At eleven?? That’s just gonna discourage the kids. Teaching is all about giving them the will to read. What twisted, sadistic teacher would pick the freaking Lord of the Rings as a child's first real book?"

Leonardo blinks at him again.

And then again.

The absence of an answer is telling Mikey all he needs to know half a second before Leo's face splits up with a big, doofus smile. 

"I'm the one who gave him the book," he states, not sounding one bit sorry. 

Michelangelo stares at him, speechless, and that’s not something that happens often. 

Leonardo gives a quiet laugh. "As much as I find your lecture captivating, little brother, it's not that bad," he assures, putting his hands up like a peace offering. "The kid's clever, I'm sure he won't let himself be intimidated by a simple book. Besides, it's not like he has to read it, or anything - well, I’m glad that he does, but - Mike, you good, hermano?" 

Michelangelo tries to get a grip. It’s only half a success. “You could make him disgusted about reading forever,” he accuses. 

Leonardo rolls his eyes. “Come on, give me some credit. Like I said, I'm not forcing him to do anything. I won’t pressure him into reading something he doesn’t like. You know me, right?"  

That is a valid argument, Mikey has to admit. He still doesn’t feel too comfortable with taking that risk, though. “Hmm.”

“Aw, don’t make that face,” Leonardo cheers him up, grabbing his shoulder affectuously. “Give it some time, okay? Let him try. And if you still feel like it’s a bad idea in, what, a week? Then we’ll talk about it.”

Ah, making a deal without actually promising anything that might make him a disservice. Such a classic Leon move. 

Michelangelo sighs and nods. What choice does he have, either way? 

--------

It doesn't take a week for Michelangelo to understand he has lost this battle.

There are multiple signs throughout the next few days - Junior hiding in a corner to read peacefully more often than not, body relaxed, expression focused; Junior dozing off when bored, gaze wandering around like he sees things with new eyes; Junior humming the Lord of the Rings movies' theme songs here and there when doing chores. Could fool anybody else, but Mikey knows what having an hyperfixation looks like. 

He's so happy for the kid. 

That's something he himself hasn't felt in a very long time, the thrill of discovering a story so captivating it takes you away from your day to day life, the delight of forgetting your worries and troubles into something bigger, smoother, more coherently crafted than reality. It's a comforting feeling, and he's happy Junior is getting the chance to experience it, even with all this chaos he is growing up in - even more so.  

"Well, well, well, would you look at that," Leonardo starts, coming to a stop next to Michelangelo as he's watching Junior animatedly explain some piece of lore to a poor kid who doesn't look all that interested. "Seems like it's Casey who's doing the traumatizing, after all." 

Mikey snorts. "Yeah, alright, that's a win for you."

"What was that? Sorry, Mikey, I don't speak loser," Leo pushes. 

Mikey elbows him goodnaturedly. "Hey, I'm saying you're right, that's like, the only thing you'd understand no matter the language."

"Damn right!" Leo smirks, and leaves it at that. Mikey should probably be surprised he isn't bragging about it more, but the way his brother looks at Casey Junior tells him his mind isn't completely focused on the conversation. 

He gets it. If he's being honest with himself, Mikey knows he sometimes has that look, too. 

He glances back and forth between Casey Junior still infodumping on his poor friend, and Leonardo proudly watching over his protégé. The positive energy radiating from them is enough that he resolves to bring Junior new books, too, each time he has the opportunity. 

And so he does for the next few weeks. 

Between the novels Leonardo brings back from scouting missions and the books Michelangelo manages to get from people owing him favors, Casey Junior slowly but surely builds his own personal library, safely stored in a carton under his bed. 

The kid reads about anything they can find. He beams each time he receives something new, and by the time they get to ask him about the latest addition to the collection, he's already read it two times at least. 

So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that one day, Casey Senior comes for their throats. 

“BLUE TURTLE!”

Michelangelo and Leonardo are in the middle of the morning report with a few scouts. The authority in Cassandra’s voice has Leonardo’s body go still in a split second. 

Mikey raises a brow at him. “I was pretty sure she knew your actual name by now.”

“She only calls me that when she’s pissed,” Leo explains, eyes wide and panicked. 

“HAS ANYONE SEEN THE BLUE ONE?” Cassandra’s voice shouts again, and this time, Leonardo springs into motion. 

“Meeting adjourned!” he yelps to three very baffled scouting agents before clutching at the collar of Mikey’s cape. “Mike, hermano, you have to hide me -”

“You’re both there! Good.” 

Cassandra is standing in the doorway of the briefing room and Michelangelo doesn’t even have to squint to notice the menacing aura that surrounds her. 

She is furious.

“Heyyy, Cassie!” his brother tries in his cheesiest voice, an overcompensation for the nervousness tightening his whole body. “How’re we doing today, my gal? You look fabulous! Something new with your hair?”

Cassandra isn’t having his nonsense, and she makes it clear by stomping towards them with steps so heavy Mikey instinctively checks the concrete floor for footprints. 

He doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on, but it isn’t good. 

His mystic powers slowly lift him up into the air. 

“Oh, no, neither of you is escaping this,” Cassandra chuckles, low and dark, as she grabs both Mikey’s cloak and Leo’s scarf. Michelangelo is pretty sure she would’ve seized them by the ears, if they’d had any. 

By the corner of his eyes, he sees the three scouts leave the room as discreetly as they can.

“Escaping what?” he asks with an apprehensive smile, his toes a few inches above the ground.  

“What have you done to my son?” 

Leo and Mikey exchange a bewildered look. 

“Junior?” Leo immediately presses. “What’s the matter with him?” 

“The matter is he’s becoming a nerd!” Cassandra snaps, and Michelangelo flinches. Ah. That was bound to happen, at some point. 

“Are you talking about the books?” he asks as gently as he can. “Because if so, I really don’t see how -”

“He isn’t helping with chores anymore!” Casey Senior presses on, her glare sharp enough to make him go quiet. “He’s running off every time he can, hiding out of my sight more often than not, and when he does come out of whatever rabbit hole he’s spent his day into, he speaks about things I don’t know shit about.” Leonardo tries to take a step back, but she just holds onto his scarf tighter. “What. Have you. Done. To my. Son?”

Leonardo hisses, his scarf apparently pressing a little too much into his throat for comfort. “Casey,” he pleads, voice just a little hoarse, “I swear we mean well -”

“Kids gotta be kids, you know?” Mikey advocates. “You were a Lou Jitsu fan when we were teens, remember?”

“Of course I remember!” Cassandra shouts, but she is distracted enough to let go of them, and they both keep their distance, just in case she starts acting aggressive again. 

“There you go, then!” Mikey pushes, voice warm and soothing. “Every teenager needs something to keep the imagination busy. Don’t you think Junior needs it even more than we did when we were his age?”

Cassandra sighs, her shoulders slumping. She presses her fingers to her temples. “I know,” she says tiredly, “but I’m under the impression that nothing else interests him anymore. He doesn’t sound as excited about training as he did, and I’m getting worried about his sleep schedule.”

Something drops in Mikey’s stomach, and by the look on his brother’s face, he understands that he doesn’t like what he’s hearing, either. “Oh,” Leonardo says cautiously. “Well, no need to fret about his training, because he’s going as hard at it as he always has, but, uh…”

“But we could talk to him about not reading too late at night,” Mikey provides. 

“Yeah. That.”

With a half-smile, Casey Senior looks back up at them. “Mhm. I guess that would work better coming from you than it does coming from me.”

Leonardo huffs a laugh. “Cool uncles’ privilege, am I right?”

“It’s just a phase, you know,” Mikey adds. “He probably won’t be that much into reading for very long.”

“I wouldn’t bet food on that,” Cassandra grimaces, but there isn’t any more bite to it. “This kid is stubborn as hell.”

“Oh, jeez, wonder where that - you know what? It’s so obvious I don’t think I need to say it." Leonardo eyerolls at her with a smile before getting serious again. “I’m sorry, Cassie. For getting you worried.”

“That much is obvious, too, blue one,” Cassandra says as she bumps her fist into his good shoulder. “No big deal. I mean it. I’m glad you guys get along with him so well.”

She glances back and forth between them, and a rare, soft expression washes over her features. 

“He really loves you. Both of you.”

“Awww!” Michelangelo can’t help himself: he brings Cassandra and Leonardo into the tightest of hugs before they can register it. Leo protests a little, Casey protests a lot, but neither actually disengages, and that’s good enough for him. 

They don’t stay like this for long, though; Casey is quick to excuse herself and go back to whatever she was doing, Leo straightens himself up and calls the scouts back, and the day starts over again as if nothing had happened at all. 

Well, not exactly, Mikey corrects himself as he watches his brother resume the morning report where they had left it. There is a glint in his eyes now, an energy in his movements, an assurance in his voice that wasn’t quite there before. It’s a little amusing to him that the scout agents seem to notice, too. 

It’s a little funny, getting to witness the way Leonardo’s serious leader image in the Resistance is slowly being tinted by his mushy side. 

If anything, Michelangelo thinks it’s only doing him good. 

How long will it take before Leo realizes he’s acting like a proud dad, though? 

--------

Dad Material is a collab with @leosmasktails 💙

Beginning - Previous - Next

Sooo what started as Tails doing a comic where Casey Jr bitches about the eagles in the Return of the King movie is now a collab about Leonardo becoming a surrogate father figure and getting lots of Dad Feels. Life is crazy y'all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Comics are from @leosmasktails, ficlets are from me, and there's more on the way, lads, so stay tuned!

Oversight: 1 (comic) - 2 (comic & ficlet) - 3 (comic) - 4 (comic) - 5 (comic) - 6 (you're here) - 7 (next)

#dad material #collab #writing #leosmasktails #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise of the tmnt

[ninnosaurus]

Lullaby || Dad!Turts, part 2

AN: OKAY I WROTE THE SECOND PART ALREADY. But like, I already have all of the scenes played out in my head and know exactly what’s going to happen so all I have to do is write them down.

I also kinda picture Raph as a Disney fan. This man loves his Disney and has many of the songs memorized.

Again: Not beta read! Please excuse any errors! The kind of chair he’s sitting in can be seen right here!

I hope you like Dad!Raph 🥰

----

Raphael

It had been a long day that had also been filled with idiot people getting on your nerves. And right now, it was late, and dark. All you wanted to do was get home to your family. You knew Raph was crashing at your place during your workdays, and you couldn't wait to get home to him. 

Arriving at home, you toed your shoes off and kicked them out of the way, heading straight to the shower. Sighing as the warm water hit your skin, this was just what you needed.

After putting your hair in a towel and drying off, you walked into the kitchen to spoon some of the leftovers you saw waiting for you on the stove into your mouth. Raph's cooking had gotten better, you especially loved his lasagna, which you were currently eagerly enjoying in silence.

Wait… silence. 

"Isn't Raph supposed to be here?" You thought to yourself. A small hint of irritation pricking in you as you drank some soda straight from the bottle, you’ve told him before that he needs to let you know if he decides to take her down to the Lair. 

"Hm.", closing the fridge you first look into the livingroom. Finding the TV turned off and void of any turtle.

Out into the hallway you saw a soft light coming from the room furthest down, your bedroom. 

"Ah…", you quietly let out. Someone had probably woken up, signaling for her Shining Knight in Green Armor. 

Tiptoeing down towards the room, you heard him. His voice is dark, somewhat gravely yet soft, and warm. 

He was singing, something that wasn't that odd for him, even though he was more into… the heavier kind, this time is was smooth, and low, almost a whispering tone to it. You figured he was using his churr to lull her back to sleep as he sang lowly.

Arriving at the bedroom door, you lean into the doorframe, looking at them.

"Come stop your crying,  it will be alright.”

Raphael was sitting in the egg shaped chair propped close to the window, wearing a pair of tattered basketball shorts. One leg propped up on the chair using the toe of his other to make the the chair swing in a soothing rhythm.

“Just take my hand, hold it tight" 

His heart swells when the little bundle of sleepiness grips his green finger.

"I will protect you, from all around you.

I will be here, don't you cry." 

He glance up and looks at you, a warm smile dancing on his face before looking down to continue is song when he feels the smallest hand in the world tightens its grip.

"For one so small, you seem so strong.

My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm.”

He hadn’t really thought much about ever having children, except during his mating season, neither with a human nor - God willing - another mutant, yet here she was. His daughter. To think something so small had captured his heart.

“This bond between us, can't be broken.

I will be here, don't you cry."

The bright green eyes she had from from him locks with his as he brings his beak down to nuzzle her human nose.

'Cause you'll be in my heart. Yes, you'll be in my heart.

From this day on, now and forever more."

All you can do is watch and enjoy the concert. One day when you were flicking through the channels at the Lair, you jerked as Raph told you to stop when he saw the Disney version of “Tarzan” was on. Promptly planting himself on the couch. He later admitted to you that he’d always liked that movie, so hearing him sing this song wasn't a shocker to you.

He might look like the most intimidating of his brothers, but his body inhabitied so much love. 

The chair creaked as he got up. Putting the now sleeping baby down in her crib, he leaned against it, chin resting on his large arms. Just looking at her.

"Oh, You'll be in my heart, no matter what they say.

You'll be here in my heart, Always."

#bayverse #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raph #raphael #tmnt #tmnt raph #bayverse raphael #dad!turtles

[kelieah]

work things out

tom holland x pregnant!reader. angst + fluff. language. inspiration. main masterlist. tom holland masterlist. taglist.

not too long ago tom was out the whole day for interviews and press. usually you’d go with him lately but you weren’t feeling too well. given all the strict guidelines, you stayed at home in the apartment in LA that you and tom share. you can’t deny that it did get lonely from time to time, with how busy tom is but your relationship with him is still stronger than ever. it’s a joy, every time he’s off or gets to spend time with you. the both of you cherish it and make every second worth its while.

you both have been together for about four years now. met when you were 19 and he was 21. you truly couldn’t be happier. he’s great, the dates are great, the sex is great. you couldn’t complain. though it did get pressuring from time to time when the whole world relentlessly asked if the two of you are planning to engage, marry or even have kids. the topic has popped up in a couple of conversations between you and tom, but it was never really serious. yet.

yet, you say because you recently found out you’re pregnant. that’s why you’ve been feeling real sick lately and now you’re absolutely terrified to tell tom. usually you’d say luckily. but unfortunately, he’s home now, meaning you know you’d have to tell him soon. but how? tom mentioned that he’s wanted kids, but now? you doubt it. you pushed your insecurities and overwhelming thoughts away for awhile and decided to enjoy tom’s time off with him.

so here you are, a couple of days after his recordings. tom’s in the bathroom freshening up while you’re in the living room relaxing. you plan to tell him soon. eventually. tomorrow.

shaking off the nervous feeling, you smile softly as you watch the newly released interview of tom in esquire. he looked absolutely divine. hair perfectly molded, turtle neck enhancing his clean look. god, you’re in love with him. you giggle at some of his remarks and notice him walk over. “what are you watching, babe?” he hums and sits next to you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you.

“one of your interviews,” you reply and place an arm around him, running a hand through his hair. “i quite like this one, you look rather dashing if i don’t say so myself,” you tease in a british accent.

he chuckles and stuffs his face in the crook of your neck, “yea, yea.”

you watch this next clip and stifle a laugh at the image of tom and nicki minaj photoshopped horribly on a family stock photo. “nicki minaj has announced she’s expected her first child with her husband tom holland. best of luck to the happy couple. this actually really stressed me out,” tom’s voice rang from your ipad.

“oh god, that one. i honestly don’t know how or why the two of us were put together. no relevance,” he murmurs into your skin.

“i honestly don’t know either,” you snicker and continue to watch the video.

“so, that was a big relief for me. because i’m not ready to have kids. i’m not even ready to have a dog properly. anyway,” he said and shifted around in his chair. 

those words repeated through your mind immediately and repeatedly, sending a chill down your spine. tom feels you tense up, “love? i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that in the interview i know—”

“tom? do you mean that?” you sit up a bit and pull away from his embrace.

a bit hurt from your sudden actions, tom’s face falls into a frown. “what?”

“y-you’re not ready to have kids?” you stammer and hug your knees to your chest.

“no,” he replies honestly and looks at you with eyes full of concern. his sharp and confirming reply drives a stake through your heart. you’re fucked now, you thought to yourself. “but i thought we’ve talked about this, sweetheart. right? after we get married,” he scoots closer and hesitantly pulls you back into his arms. 

“yes i know— i know. but what if,” you begrudgingly comply and fall back into his chest, pressing your face up against his built. “what if we had a kid now?”

“it’d be really difficult that’s for sure. i’m barely home, and i’ve got many films coming up. press, premieres, and shows. you know? i have some auditions coming up as well, and i don’t know. what about you, baby? aren’t you graduating next year? how would you handle baring a child during school and work. honey?” he repeats himself, noticing how you became silent.

“tommy,” you manage to croak out after feeling a lump build up in your throat. you look up at him with teary eyes and a face flushed with embarrassment.

“yes, y/n?” he sits up and cups your face, swiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek with his thumb. “shit. i’m so sorry baby, but we have to think realistic here. with my career, your career. our schedules and all. we can’t, right?”

“i suppose,” you sniffle and purse your lips. “fuck tom, you’re going to hate me when i tell you this.”

“this?” he trails off, a hint of suspicion in his eyes as he had a feeling about what you were about to tell him.

“i-i’m pregnant,” you say cautiously and shut your eyes closed tightly.

if only you could see the look on his face. he jumps up and brings you with him making you squeal as he holds you up high. “what!? are you— are you actually!?” he cries out and pulls you back down, hugging you closely.

“yes,” you whine, bit surprised at his reaction as he sways you in his arms. “y-you’re not upset? you just said you’re not ready?”

he shakes his head and tenderly presses kisses along your shoulder and back up towards your lips. “just because i’m not ready doesn’t mean i don’t want to have kids with you. i’ll be ready. i’ll fucking, shit i’ll make myself ready. my sweet, love, darling. hell, i’d never. never be upset for you baring our child, never. never in a million years. are you, are you actually?” he asks once more for safe measures.

“yes,” you begin to cry out in joy and nod excitedly. “i-i took one of those pregnancy tests but to be sure i just took the whole fucking box. so i pissed on like five sticks and— and they were all positive, but i still wasn’t pleased so i went to the doctors and tom. i’m already three weeks,” she whimpers

“holy hell, has it really been that long since we’ve had sex!?” he exclaims and your jaw slacks. he laughs loudly and you shove him harshly down onto the couch. “i’m joking! just joking, oh darling. oh my love. i’m so happy i couldn’t express myself more, i don’t know what to say—” he rambles on while you straddle his waist. you place a finger on his lips and he instantly shuts up, carefully placing his hands upon your hips. 

“i love you,” you sigh and lean down, placing your forehead against his. 

“i love you more,” he responds and pulls your waist closer. “we can work this out. i’m sure you’ll be able to manage college, but work? maybe it’s time you quit that bloody job of yours with the asshole of a manager. i know you don’t want to depend on my money but angel, c’mon. been together for almost five years now and i’ve barely spent a dime on you.”

you sigh and nod reluctantly, “i know. i’ll quit the job. definitely don’t need the extra stress. but this doesn’t mean spoil me, tommy. you know that right?”

“why not!?”

“because! because well, you don’t need to. it’s waste.”

he lets out an offended gasp, “how dare you insult my future wife and child like that. spending money on you both, will never be a waste. you hear me?”

“tooooommy! i meant me, yes spoil our child but not me.”

“i’m not arguing about this, sorry darling,” he shrugs.

you slap his chest and huff frustratingly. “but, what about you?”

“i obviously can’t cancel the films, but i’ll take out press i don’t really need to do, you know? with covid still around, i doubt there’ll be any press tours for another year so that’s nothing we need to worry about. though, i think i can manage a way to work from home more. besides recording days, obviously. i’m an idiot, ignore me. anyway, and i won’t audition for any upcoming or new films until we’ve settled, yea?”

you take in his words and glance at him in complete adoration. “you’d really do all that for me? for us?” you whisper.

“oh darling, in a heartbeat. i’d do anything for you, for you both. we’ll work things out,” he tilts your chin down and kisses your forehead. “okay?”

you smile lovingly and nod. “okay, thank you.”

“love, don’t thank for me. this is all a given, you hear that?”

“yea, i hear that,” you sigh and curl up in between his legs, cuddling into his embrace. 

“good, i love you new mum.”

you flush and hide your face into his shirt. he laughs loudly and wraps his arms around securely, pressing multiple kisses against your head. “i love you too, new dad.”

#kelly's drabbles #tom holland #tom holland drabbles #tom holland blurbs #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 7

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 7

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4184

Summary: Life moves toward normalcy for Sam and the reader, regardless of emotional turmoil.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

          A few days later the Kaisers came into the bar for a nightcap and asked you and Sam to come to their house for dinner. You couldn’t think of a reason not to, and honestly thought maybe it would be nice to have something to structure the week around. It had been quiet, just barely beneath solemn while the dust settled and Sam stayed mostly silent while you moved around each other throughout the day. At least at the Kaisers’ Sam would have to talk to you, maybe even sidle up close to you during waking hours to keep up the couples’ charade. A little zap of guilt moved through you as you politely agreed to a time, that the second thought you’d had was about getting closer to Sam under this guise. In any case, the Kaisers were kind, it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice meal with someone else, and if you were going to stay here, it would be a good idea to avoid appearing standoffish. You bought their last drink and were waving after them when Sam came upstairs from changing a keg.

           “We’re going to the Kaisers’ for dinner tomorrow,” you offered, trying to keep your voice even and making a point of not staring at Sam too long. It was a challenge; since Sam had kissed you and even more since he’d divulged that longing was part of the tangle of emotions he was feeling, it was on your mind nearly constantly, adding a murky stripe to the ever-present grief.

           “Oh, uh, okay.” Sam jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them. “What time?”

           “They said 7:30. Don’t let me forget; I think we should bring a bottle of wine or something, so I can grab one tomorrow.”

           “Yeah, that works.”

           You wanted to drag out the conversation but couldn’t think of any way to that wasn’t cloying or desperate. If this (hopefully temporary) emotional distance was what Sam needed, it was unfair for you to try to take it from him. A quick nod and you returned to washing glasses.

           The rest of the shift passed agonizingly slowly. Sam put on a podcast about Jonestown for the drive home.

           You’d decided to walk over to the Kaisers’ with Sam the next day, bundled up on top of a presentable sweater that you hadn’t worn in a few years. Biting wind sliced through your jeans and seemed to creep into your coat even as you dug your chin inside the collar like a turtle, and when Sam noticed he threw an arm around you. His side blocked a bit of the wind and he rubbed your shoulder to warm it with friction. The impulse to curl up into his ribs was fierce, but you fought it down to wrap your forearms around the bottle of red wine that looked the fanciest of the midrange bottles at the grocery store. Where seconds before you had been wishing the walk were shorter, now you could’ve stayed out in the ice forever if it meant Sam would allow himself to be close to you again without being asleep. You’d made peace with the want, trying hard to decide that feeling crazy on top of your grief wasn’t helping anyone.

           “Ready?” Sam asked with a tentative smile at the doorway. The Kaisers lived in a version of your cabin, in the sense that many of the houses in the area were log-hewn and rustic. However, they were clearly here to stay. Window flowerbeds filled with pinecones for the season and delicately carved shutters framed warm casts of light streaming onto the snow through gauzy ivory curtains, and their door opened to a tiny front porch where yours simply had a small ungraceful cement platform. For a moment, you thought about how comforting it would be to come back here at the end of a shift. It didn’t feel like somewhere as darling as this could have a half-broken boiler that rattled all day or plastic-coated countertops. This was a home and not a hideout.

           You gave Sam what you hoped was a reassuring grin and watched as his long finger pressed an old-fashioned doorbell encased in wrought iron.

           Mike answered the door. He had on a fuzzy pullover that made him look even more like a teddy bear than he normally did, nubbly wool spanning his belly like fur. He had the kind of rosy full-cheeked smile some jolly men combined with their booming voices to seem like the Ghost of Christmas Present, and a well-groomed beard with two starkly delineated streaks of gray-white dropping straight down from the corners of his mouth. From previous neighborly hugs, you knew he smelled like piney aftershave. He was a little taller than average, and built former-linebacker solid. You would’ve bet anything he was the perfect dad to call to help move you into a college apartment or scare an ex-boyfriend, and the thought of it made you cheerful and sad all at once. The hand not holding the doorknob had a pint of dark beer. “Great, you’re here! Babs, they’re here,” he added over his shoulder, gesturing an arm to welcome you into the home.

           Sam waited for you to go first, shuffling his feet along the doormat in tandem with you as Mike closed the door. You followed Mike’s socked initiative and gently toed your boots off while you handed him the bottle of wine somewhat shyly. For all the years you’d been on your own, there was something so decidedly adult about bringing wine over to the dinner party of a middle-aged couple that felt like those first few meetings of your parents’ friends after college, when you’re not sure whether to call them by their first names or resign yourself to a life of Mr This and Mrs That. Mike seemed to pick up on it, thoughtfully appraising the bottle and squeezing your shoulder, humming about how you didn’t have to bring anything. He clapped Sam on the back and asked him how he was doing before teasing gently about how long his hair had gotten, and you took in the house.

           It was bigger than the cabin you were staying in, the staircase to your left suggesting an upstairs that yours didn’t have, but what was far more striking was how warm it felt both in mood and literal temperature. A fire crackled straight through the main room in front of you, surrounded by giant river rock stonework that offset caramelly beige walls. A deep, plush canvas sofa faced the fireplace, flanked by two equally overstuffed armchairs upholstered with burnt sienna stained leather. Quick visual survey gave you a count of 4 throws in the room of various weights and patterns.

           The kitchen was over to the right through the dining room. Barbie was wearing an apron covered in piglets and appeared to be basting something in the oven, turning toward you and absentmindedly wiping her hands. Fluffy, soft-looking hair was held back from her face with a pair of no-nonsense tortoiseshell barrettes. “Oh, perfect! I thought I hadn’t left enough time for the roast, but it looks about done. Can I get you two a drink?”

           Sam’s soft, encouraging smile was enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees. “Sure! It smells great in here.”

           “How about an old fashioned? We’ve been working through a great bottle of bourbon.”

           “Works for me,” Sam agreed, and you nodded as well.

           A few moments of small talk later, Sam offered to help Barbie with the food. She graciously accepted, giving him some job you knew she could’ve easily done herself as a way to make him feel more comfortable. Mike noticed you looking at the variety of pictures on the wall and started talking about their kids, putting names to each cheerful face. They were a good-looking family, the Kaisers, all big beaming smiles and limbs protectively wrapped around each other over the course of different seasons and major events. You’d had to let go of this idea years ago, long before Dean was gone, but it still made you ache in a nondescript way to see a family so happy and so each others’, not only in the way they loved but also in the way they so obviously belonged. Mike and Barbie were good people, and they deserved this. You tried to focus on the affection in Mike’s face as he talked, asking a few clarifying questions as he went. A few moments later, Sam came up behind you.

           “Barbie says we should go sit down.” There was a pinkness to his cheeks and you couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of the kitchen or residual windburn from your walk over.

           The table was one of those single-plank, live-edged ones you’d always coveted and knew were far more expensive than they looked. It fit the elevated rustic feel of the Kaisers’ house and the delicious, rib-sticking meal you were eating off of it. As you fawned over the roast and Barbie did the requisite Midwestern dance of ‘oh it’s nothing I’ll give you the recipe’ it was easy to fantasize about belonging somewhere like this, having parents like this, pictures of your cousins and nieces and nephews lining the walls of your childhood home. Indulgent, clearly, even more so than the rich food and smooth liquor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it.

           “So, have you two always worked in the bar industry? That always seemed so fun to me—but I’m too old to do anything like that now,” Barbie asked.

           “Oh, come on, you’d be a great bartender,” Sam insisted, always coming down on the exact right spot between flattering and politely flirtatious. “But uh, no. This is the first bar I’ve worked in for more than a few weeks, actually.”

           Mike raised his eyebrows in an indication to continue but Sam artfully avoided his gaze. You couldn’t tell what the cue was—how honest was Sam planning on being? An old classic, the technically-true, seemed like the best option. “I worked as a bartender through and a little bit after college.”

           “Silly me, I guess I had always thought that’s how you two had met; you seem like such a good team there! How did you meet, then?”

           You artfully popped an entire fingerling potato in your mouth to force Sam to take over. “Uh, our, ah, families were friends.” In the sense that Bobby had been like an uncle to you both, maybe. A complete non-answer that sort of encompassed the barebones of the situation if you squinted at it right, but neither Mike nor Barbie seemed to recognize the opacity of it.

           “That’s great. I bet your parents were excited then, seeing you get together,” Mike suggested before taking a sip of bourbon. Both you and Sam smiled affirmatively—not together, many of those parents long dead before we had even met—and hoped the moment would pass. “How long has it been, then? Since you got together?”

           That one you couldn’t even guess what the right pretend answer would be and prepared to joke ‘too long’ before Sam said, “About two years. We knew each other for a long time before that, though.” It made sense, as far as answers went. ‘About two years’ since Dean was gone, since your lives changed, but it still ripped through you like an electric shock and sent you reeling. You could have spent an hour looking at that statement from every angle but snapped out of it when Barbie gave you a basket of rolls to pass to Mike.

           “So that explains why she doesn’t have a ring,” Mike winked, playfully knocking Sam’s arm with his fork still in his hand. “Two years isn’t that long.”

           Two years is a lifetime. Sam blushed and looked down at his plate. “Be nice. Kids don’t get married at 20 like they used to,” Barbie teased from across the table, smirking at her husband with so much love behind her eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would’ve looked at Dean like that across some dining room table if things had been different and your mind flashed on the kitchen counter a few nights before, silently clinking rocks glasses together over pie and wanting to hold Sam until the world got more fair.

           The plates were cleared and an amazing, sticky bread pudding was brought out. Mike and Barbie coaxed each other into telling stories that made you genuinely belly laugh until finally you couldn’t suppress a tiny yawn and the final drink was poured with a joke about how it wasn’t like you were driving home, so what was the harm? You all moved to the living room in front of the fire, sitting next to Sam on the couch when Mike and Barbie took what must’ve been their normal spots in each armchair. Old cushions folded up around you comfortingly and rolled you slightly into Sam’s weight next to you, lining up the firm stretch of his thigh along yours. Warmth from the fire and Sam, the pleasant sounds of your hosts’ voices and Sam’s answers to them rumbling through you as vibrations when he spoke were so sweet and heavy under the bourbon, and your eyelids began to droop.

           Sam’s hand gently covered your knee. “Ready to go?” he asked, low with a private smirk.

           You made a conscious effort to sit up straight. “I’m so sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open! Where are my manners?”

           Mike laughed a big belly laugh from his armchair. “Babs, we’re outlasting the bartenders!”

           Everyone chuckled as you all got up from your chairs, Sam accepting a Tupperware of leftovers before the at-the-doorway conversation of people who didn’t want to go and hosts who didn’t want them to either. You’d been so nervous about the dinner and now you didn’t want to leave, honestly hadn’t really wanted to leave the sofa, just doze against Sam in the heat and company like a child. It had seemed before like maybe Mike and Barbie were just asking you for dinner because it was the thing to do, but they had been genuinely welcoming and you realized that these were the first non-hunter or hunting-related relationships you had made in literal years as you zipped your coat up all the way to the top and followed Sam outside into the quiet night.

           “Man, they are really nice,” he remarked, walking closely enough next to you that your sleeves brushed together.

           You could barely see his face when you looked up to him. “Yeah. We should have them over sometime.”

           “Our place looks like a flop house.”

           You giggled, the sound falling softly on the snow around you. “We can fix it up first.”

           “No real point in fixing it up if we’re not staying here for a long time.”

           “Maybe we could stay a while.”

           Sam looked down at you, slowing to a stop even as the icy wind whipped around you. “You want to stay?”

           “I mean, I—yeah, I think I do. Unless you think we should go somewhere else.”

           “No, I just…I guess I hadn’t really considered it here, the whole “roots” thing.”

           “It’s fucking freezing, can we talk at the cabin?”

           Sam’s laugh rang out across the woodsy surroundings as he clapped an arm around you and shuffled you both home.

           That night you tucked your cold toes between Sam’s flannel-clad legs and tried to imagine Dean as an old man.

           If you’d thought December and January were bad, the intense cold snap of February sent you for a loop. Something about the months of darkness and frozen fingers was making you more stir crazy than normal; the idea of coming home to the cabin seeming less and less enticing as the days went on.

           And then the boiler broke.

           Well and truly broke, not just making the horrible clanging sounds it was prone to, but no heat at all. It had only been a couple weeks since going to dinner at the Kaisers’ and the experimental conversation with Sam about investing time into the cabin which had since fizzled out. A lack of heat at the border of the Upper Peninsula in winter was obviously untenable, and it forced the topic again as you grumpily helped carry in the remnants of another dead tree Sam had felled to heat the home with firewood.

           “Is it worth fixing or is this a sign?” you huffed through the tiny clouds of steam coming out of your mouth. “How much would it cost?”

           “I don’t have a ton of experience with boilers, but I’m pretty sure it’s the heat exchanger. And I have no idea how much it would cost to fix, but I can try to do it myself if the parts aren’t too much.” Pragmatic, genius Sam with the patience for machinery that you didn’t have. He snaked a long arm out from the bundle of wood he was carrying to open the door and hold it for you to scurry under his arm before closing it after both of you.

           Generally, you thought a landlord would probably fix this kind of thing but it always felt a little scary asking him for anything, knowing you paid cash every month and the owner had never asked for a background check. It could have been fine, but every potential conflict seemed like it might be an opportunity to be unceremoniously evicted. Better to either leave before it could happen or solve the problem yourselves. You put a hand on Sam’s chest before he could go back for another bundle of wood. “Let’s talk about it for a second.”

           Sam put his hands on his hips and it accentuated the broad span of his shoulders in his thick jacket. “Okay, right. What do you think?”

           “Well, I mean, do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go somewhere else, or start moving again or something? We haven’t even really talked about it.”

           He seemed to be weighing the options before biting his lip. “Here seems as good a place as any in a lot of ways, you know? Off the beaten path, probably not going to get spotted by anyone we know—knew—and the money is honest.”

           You cut him off with a flippant wave of the hand. “Right, but I’m not talking strategically. Do you want to stay here? Do you like it here?”

           A moment of silence fell as you searched his face for clues. “I—yeah, I do. I like being in the woods, I like the bar, I like people like the Kaisers and Steve and Jake. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the summer but right now I do.”

           The grin cracked open your face slowly. “Good. I like it here too. Do you think the hardware store would have the stuff you need to fix it?”

           “Definitely the first place I would check.”

           After getting the rest of the wood inside and leaving it next to the small fire already burning to dry out, you started to follow Sam to the car before he turned around a step before the door. “Where are you going?” he asked as you almost bumped into him.

           “Hardware store, I thought?”

           “Nice try, we can’t both leave with a fire going.”

           “Oh, I get it. So you get to go sit in the warm car and hang out in the warm hardware store while I turn into a popsicle over here.” You were half-joking, but it was genuinely freezing in the cabin, even with the fire going. Sam rolled his eyes over a smirk and strode around you, pushing the couch tight to the fireplace before retrieving the down comforter from the bed and throwing it on top. He grabbed a rinsed plastic bottle from the top of the recycling bin and filled it with water hot from the tap before throwing it in the microwave for a second.

           “Unless you feel like learning a lot about boilers today, then yes.” He gingerly pulled the bottle out of the microwave and tightened the cap back on, deftly shifting it between hands before tossing it under the comforter on the sofa.

           You were having a hard time holding onto your anger as you watched him make a cup of peppermint tea, still wearing his boots and coat as he moved around the tiny kitchen. Reluctantly, you shuffled over to the couch and removed only your boots and gloves before getting under the blankets, tucking your socked feet around the poor man’s hot water bottle and finally smiling only when Sam brought over the steaming mug of tea with more than a touch of affection under the exasperation coloring his face. “Fine?”

           “Fine.”

           When he came back, you were well into a worn paperback and had put two more logs on the fire already. “Do you need help?” you called over your shoulder from within the comforter cocoon.

           “I think I’ve got it, thanks.” His words came into the room on a gust of cold air while he tapped snow off of his boots.

           “Think you know what you’re doing?”

           “Actually, yeah. The woman at the hardware store—you’d recognize her, Diane I think—knew a fair amount about it. I’m pretty sure I have it under control.” He brought a paper bag weighted with supplies over to the utility closet you knew held the boiler and got to work.

           It was nice watching Sam in this element, always had been. As much as Dean had loved doing little projects and fixing things, both Winchesters were far handier than your average bear and Sam’s natural interest in learning lent itself well to tinkering with all kinds of things. Evidently boilers were not an exception. He shucked his coat off to lie flat on his back, looking up  at something you couldn’t see with his hands gently resting on his ribcage before reaching to grab a wrench. The twisting motion raised his elbow and tugged his shirt a bit up his torso to reveal a few inches of Sam’s lower abdomen, the trail of hair tracing to his belt buckle in slightly sharper contrast to the taught skin around it given the consecutive months spent without sun. It made you blush and you quickly looked back to your book, grateful for the heat that the fireplace was bringing to your cheeks as cover.

           About forty minutes later, Sam tapped your shoulder and startled you out of the goofy historical fiction of the paperback. “Wanna see if it works?”

           He had a stripe of oil or something on his cheek but you resisted the impulse to swipe it off, instead nodding and extricating yourself from the heat of the blanket and couch around you. When you turned it on, the boiler clicked loudly twice in a way you thought might be a bad omen before going silent again. You let an extended beat pass and placed a palm on the side. It was already on the edge of being too hot to touch and you momentarily forgot that you and Sam had decidedly not been continuing your new normal level of comforting affection lately before throwing your arms up high around his neck excitedly. He chuckled into your ear and closed the embrace, forearms crossing your ribcage and hoisting you off the ground as he stood up in your hug. You could feel the fingers of one hand splayed out over your back and side through your jacket, the other still holding the wrench tightly.

           “Okay, no promises it’s going to last, but I think that was it,” Sam offered as you released each other.

           “Crank it! I want it to feel like the Caribbean in here.”

           “You say that now, and in 3 hours you’re going to be whining about how hot you are,” Sam grinned, clearly feeling a little proud of himself even if he wouldn’t admit it. He tapped the wrench absentmindedly against his palm for a moment, considering whether he wanted to say something. “When I was at the hardware store she said our landlord might be open to cutting our rent if we offered to fix up the place.”

           “Who’s we?” you teased, holding your frozen fingers close to the boiler like it was a campfire.

           “I thought you might say that. But seriously, I know you don’t like the color of the walls or the shower pressure or whatever, could make it feel a little less…sterile.”

           You tried not to remember that the last time you’d picked out paint was for a bright pink bedroom at age 12. Sam was right, it could be nice. Even more than that, it would be great to have some leftover cash around, and an extra project to kill a few hours of daylight wasn’t a bad idea.

           “I kind of like the sound of that. I’ll talk to him about whether he’d be game.” Sam squeezed your shoulder before massaging your neck, admiring the boiler distractedly when you continued. “And seriously, thank you for fixing it.”

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 8

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[blessedboo]

Mama | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You’re pregnant. The announcement to Oscar doesn’t go so smoothly. 

Requested: Yes - “Hi I love your work so far! I was just wondering if it would be okay for you to write an Oscar Diaz imagine with the prompt #10 you’re going to be a dad? But change it up slightly by highlighting his fears of raising a son. Seeing as how it runs in his family for boys to join the gang. Sorry If it’s a strange request!! Much love x”  [Anonymous]

Prompt: Yes [My 150 Prompts] -

10. “You’re going to be a dad!”

Warnings: Angst to fluff. Pregnancy. 

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: This prompt was on the FLUFF list, but we’re switching it up and going for an initial ANGST route. I’m trying to tackle these requests dawg, please forgive me for the delay. 

The quiet sound of plastic crashing against the bathroom floor amplified in your head. 

It felt as though time slowed and the rattle of the pregnancy test slowed with it. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

It was taunting you, a reminder that you had to tell Oscar sooner or later. It wasn’t abnormal for you and him to spend sleepless nights talking about the future.The possibility of marriage, owning a house and, of course, having a baby were ideas you aspired to. You two always bickered about the minor details of the life to come:

“Rustic? Really, baby? I was thinking modern and marble. Dream big, live bigger.”

“Fine, maybe five dogs and three cats are a little much. How about three dogs, two cats and a turtle to compensate?” 

However, if there was one thing you both agreed on, it was that you would wait until you had children. Specifically until you were both financially stable, married and far away from the dangers of Freeridge. Emphasis on far and away. 

That was the plan, a good one too. But you were taught that things don’t always go as planned, and you were now living that notion. 

Your sunken eyes stared into your reflection, worry etched into your tear-stained cheeks. The way-too-bright white light of the mirror’s bulb illuminated your concern mockingly. After a few sniffles of self-pity, you dabbed at the puffiness laying under your bottom lashes as you wiped away any residue. 

Your breaths were shaky, attempting to maneuver around the nail you were biting on while you paced back and forth. The atmosphere got hotter as the four surrounding walls seemed to close in on you, the floor swaying under your feet. It was too hot for comfort. Too hot. 

Sweat. Trickling. Wipe.

The tight space was suffocating, the lump in your throat felt larger than before. Tighter, tighter. Too tight. 

Breathe. Door. Open. 

You gripped onto the handle, gasping as the cool air of the hallway eased you into its soothing arms. Every ounce of panic, everything you over thought increased tenfold. Your mind ran laps intrusively. You were creating doubts you hadn’t considered and problems you didn’t want to face. You wanted to make it stop, but you didn’t know how. And the one person that could was the one person you hoped to avoid. At least for a little longer.

That was when you heard the door knob click, keys shifting in its place. Oscar’s here. You froze, cursing the universe for making your unspecified wish come true. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” You murmured under your breath. 

He barely got the chance to properly step into the house before you ran up to him.

Without thinking it through, your arms enveloped him into a hug. You let your heart grasp the solace it needed in that moment. Oscar was your safe haven, and in times of conflict, it was instinct for you to gravitate towards him and the comfort he provided. 

Using his own to reciprocate the embrace, they wrapped themselves around you like a warm blanket. You sighed, inhaling long and deep.

He placed a gentle kiss on your hair before taking your chin in between his thumb and index to tilt it upwards. 

“Hey—” He paused and took in the current state of your features. Your eyes were glossy, lids droopy, shoulders slumped. You embodied the definition of lackluster. That sweet smile, that infectious spark of energy he craved … It was missing, and he didn’t like that. “—¿Qué pasa?” 

“Oscar, do you love me?” You blurted out. 

He pulled back a little, eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected question. Thinking he misunderstood, he tilted his head. Your lips parted as you moved your hands to cup his face.

“As if you have to ask,” his lips curved into a half-smile. “Yes. Of course, Y/N. Why?”

You nodded, diverting your attention to anywhere other than the worry in his eyes. You took your hand in his as your fingers intertwined seamlessly. Your hands were clammy, and you knew he could feel the spots of dampness from the way his palm shifted at the feel of them. You anxiously led him to the couch and sat him down. 

The realization that this pregnancy could  either make or break your future together started to dawn on you. The thought of him leaving you had your stomach churning and your throat tightening. It wasn’t something you wanted to imagine, let alone become a reality. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. So, here it goes,” you breathed out in a tone that was almost unintelligible. “I-I’m … You’re …  Uh, me. Fuck,” you hissed. Your hand flew to your thigh to try to stop your leg from bouncing, but that only led to your nails lightly scratching the skin in repeated motions instead. 

“You, you. Youaregoingtobeadad,” you squeaked as your head dropped down.

Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head at you, unable to make out the incomprehensible jumble of word vomit that spewed out of your mouth. 

“A little louder, nena,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly. 

You gulped. “Oscar Diaz. You’re going to be a dad, mi amor.” 

His jaw slacked. Any muscles that worked to hold up a familiar, comforting expression fell. 

A canvas having its paint wiped away into a blank nothingness was the best way to describe the way he looked at you. The loving touch of his fingers around yours was replaced with emptiness as his limbs retracted closer towards his body, and farther away from yours. 

You couldn’t decipher the emotion that hid behind those eyes. There were no telltale signs he conveyed, no words either. You could hear the heavy rumble of your heart ringing through your ears, the thump of the drum eating at you in anticipation. 

“Say something, damn it!” You croaked in a voice so fragile, so brittle. You wanted—no, you needed—him to do something. You were vulnerable and overwhelmed, feeling as  though the force of a thousand stones weighed on your chest. You wanted him to hold you, console you, ease your anguish. Something. Anything. 

You hadn’t even taken notice of the tears welling up in your eyes until they trickled down your chin, black spots forming one by one on your gray sweater. 

He blinked stoically before looking away. His handsome features coldly hardened into a look of distaste as he shunned you. Your palm rushed to cover your mouth, miserably concealing the broken sputters and gasps; he couldn’t even look at you and it was soul-crushing. Every inch of him clenched with anger, from his fists to his teeth.  

Before you knew it, his heavy footsteps trailed a scorching path towards the door. The slam of the wood against the frame thundered, causing your sobs to pour out of you in a heave. 

As you swung the door back open, your clouded vision was met with a blurry, deformed sight of Oscar’s silhouette near the vibrant cherry red shape of his car. Rage roared within you through the depths of your core. 

You couldn’t believe him. 

After everything you two had been through, this was the moment he chose to leave. The only difference now was that he wasn’t just deserting you, but his unborn child too. 

“You said you loved me, you lying son of a bitch!” You bellowed. Completely distraught, you fell to your knees and continuously wept your disappointment, your ever-growing pain. 

And just like that, his engine revved as he took off into a destination unknown. 

—

Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. Days felt like forever. Forever felt like a long time. 

In reality it was five hours. Five tiresome hours. Five too many, five too long. No calls, no messages, nothing. That went for you too, you did absolutely nothing except wallow in your melancholy. 

Wrapped in a blanket burrito, you cradled yourself into the fetal position as you clutched onto your stomach. You held onto your belly as if you were actually holding onto your child. But considering Oscar left, you might as well. 

Groaning, you rolled over and stretched before blankly staring at the ceiling. You paid attention to the gentle whirring of the fan above. Soon enough, the sight turned into a hallucination of a baby crib mobile instead. You envisioned what the life ahead would be like as a single mother - buying toys and cute clothes, breastfeeding, pre-school, all of it. 

You sighed, closing your eyes and smiling softly as you soothed your mind. Stroking your stomach, you whispered to the little creature: “Don’t worry, baby. We got this.”

“Yeah, we do.” 

Your eyes shot open as you sprang upright, your head darting towards the direction of the low, soft-spoken voice. In front of you, the man stood slightly hunched in the doorway. His demeanor was tense, yet seemingly weak. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Oscar!” 

The buttons of his shirt were now undone, a sleeve rolling down his shoulder. With a hand rubbing the nape of his neck, his lower lip trembled, eyes glossy and a little red. You had never seen him look so defeated. Whether it was guilt, fear or frustration, you didn’t know. But whatever it was, it clouded his entire being in that moment.

“Cariño, I’m so sorry,” he croaked. 

“Go away.” You started to blink back tears, the anger flooding back at the sight of him. 

He shook his head as he approached you, arms opening up as if to plead for your forgiveness. When he realized you weren’t going to accept his embrace, he distanced himself by sitting at the edge of the bed. Oscar sighed as his head dropped into his hands, mumbling words you couldn’t hear. 

“Y/N, I love you. I love you more than anything and anyone. I’ve never loved like that, and I haven’t been loved like that,” he gulped deeply. “Not until I met you.” 

You uncrossed your arms as you focused your gaze on the slow rise and fall of his back. 

“When … when I left earlier, I was scared. I didn’t think I was ready to be a father. Frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I will always have my doubts and fears, they follow me wherever I go. But with you, I won’t have to deal with them on my own.” He turned to face you, holding out a shaky hand for you to grasp onto.  

“Please,” he mouthed silently. You nodded, reluctantly taking his hand as he brought you closer to him. 

“I fucked up with Cesar by bringing him into all this gang shit. I brought an innocent kid into a life he didn’t deserve. I grew up having to be a father to a brother without ever being a son—”

“—But I’m not Ray. I’d never walk out on you, on us. On all of us,” his gentle fingertips caressed your belly as his lips curved into a loving smile. He looked up at you with such sincerity and pure adoration, as if an epiphany was hitting him right then and there. 

You were the mother of his  child, the woman he wanted to cherish for the rest of eternity. Nothing else mattered more than to be with you, his everything. 

You cupped his cheek as your foreheads connected, noses meeting at the tips. 

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. I’m putting a ring on that finger and we are raising this family together. I’m going to be a good father, a better man than mine ever was. Lo prometo, mi vida,” he whispered, his thumb delicately tracing your cheek. “It’s you and me against the world, always.” 

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” you murmured. 

“I can’t believe we made a baby,” he chuckled. Leaning forward, Oscar placed a sweet kiss on your soft lips. “Congrats, mama. We did it.” 

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

¿Qué pasa?  - What’s wrong? / What happened?

Nena - Baby. 

Mi amor - My love.

Cariño - Sweetheart.

Lo prometo, mi vida - I promise, my life (my everything/darling etc.)

#oscar diaz #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagine #on my block #omb #omb imagine #omb fanfic #julio macias #oscar diaz fanfic #spooky diaz fanfic #x reader #imagine #x black!reader #x poc!reader

[amyscascadingtabs]

expecto patronum

Post-The Fugitive. Jake and Amy talk Harry Potter, patronuses, and love.

✨read on ao3  ✨ 

“Hey, babe, I’m home!”

The door makes a distinctive clicking noise behind Jake as he locks it. It’s only one of the many sounds he’s getting used to; his new home is full of them, and they’ve become much more noticeable now that he’s here every day. He’s known his way around this apartment for a long time, but living there, permanently, is different. It’s a good kind of different, though. 

“In here!” Amy shouts from her – from their – bedroom, and Jake hurries to hang up his jacket and bag before going to greet his girlfriend. 

    He’s coming home late tonight. A questioning at work dragged over after a surprise confession, and as exciting as those are, Jake’s bitter over missing dinner and Property Brothers with Amy. He half hadn't expected her to be awake still, but once he was finally free to text her that he was on his way home, she replied straight away to tell him she'd be waiting. Rosa had teased him about how wide he’d been smiling, but Jake hadn’t found it in him to care. 

Amy’s laying on her stomach in bed with a thick book leaned against the pillow, resting her chin against one hand as she reads and holding up the cover with her other. Jake recognizes the book; it’s Prisoner of Azkaban, the third book in the Harry Potter series. He was reading it himself a few weeks ago.

“Ah, Harry Potter. Good choice.”

Amy closes the book against her index finger and looks up at him. “Yeah, you inspired me. How was work?”

“We got a confession,” he grins. “It was dope. Guy just started rambling, pretty much told us his whole life story for some reason, and now we have him. I even got to call the victim’s mom, tell her the news.”

“Sounds like a good day, then.”

“Yeah. Missed seeing you, though.”

“You see me all the time, babe. We live and work together.”

“I know, so it makes me feel even weirder when I don't!”

Amy laughs, letting out that adorable chortling sound he only ever hears when they're alone. Then she looks back to her book, scooching closer to her preferred side of the bed, and Jake takes that as an instruction to change into pajamas so he can join her. 

Any regular night, he would probably have taken time to shower and brush his teeth first, but it's been a long day. He simply undresses instead, smirking as he notices Amy’s subtle side glance when he takes off his shirt. This, these small moments of appreciation between them, is yet another one of the parts he loves most about sharing a life with her – it’s nearly midnight, he’s exhausted and he remembers Amy mentioning starting her period, so sex is almost guaranteed to be off the table – but she still makes him feel attractive, makes him feel confident and wanted. He never realized how much that being an equal exchange meant to him before their relationship.

   “So,” he asks her, “where are you up to in the book, then?”

“Almost finished the whole thing,” she says, looking very proud of herself. “I’m at the time-turner chapter. Harry thinks he saw his dad cast a patronus from the other side of the lake, but then he realizes just saw himself.” 

“Man, that part was so sad.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” Jake huffs, crawling underneath the covers. “I just… felt for him, you know? He wishes he could meet his parents, just once, even if he knows it's impossible. He wants this family he never had.”

“It makes you realize how in the end, he's just a kid. A brave kid, but a kid.”

“A kid in desperate need of therapy.”

“Amen,” says Amy, flipping a page. “Hogwarts mental health services do seem to be severely lacking. Did you know the dementors were inspired by the author’s own experiences with depression, by the way?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dark creatures with the power to bring out all the worst memories in your head, making you feel like you’ll never be happy again. Like you can’t even remember what it’s like. And the only way to defeat them is to hold onto the very happiest moments of your life and create a shield out of them.”

“Kind of deep for a kid's book,” Jake reflects, and Amy nods. 

“Maybe. But it's not pushed on them, either. It's a way for them to understand, without knowing that they're understanding. I always loved that about the Harry Potter books,” she says, a sudden dreamy look in her eyes. “They're just… intelligent.”

   Jake means to agree with her, but then his body remembers he's been at work for the entire day, and out comes an embarrassingly big yawn that makes Amy laugh. 

“Long day? I can read to you if you want.”

“Dreamgirl,” he mumbles. Amy rolls her eyes, but then she reaches out to pull him closer, her left hand running through his hair as she holds the book with her right, and he can see her smiling.

   Jake's not sure how long she's reading for. He loses track of time, but frankly, he doesn’t mind. Amy's reading voice is low, peaceful enough to relax him but varied enough to entice him at the same time. Her fingers keep brushing through his curls as she reads, tracing soft circles on his scalp. He listens to her read the part where Harry and Hermione fly on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, and it doesn't matter that he read the book himself just a few weeks ago, because he could listen to her voice forever.

   He gets to do that now, he realizes, because they live together now. It may only have been a week, and not completely without its challenges, but it already feels like one of the best decisions of his life. Even though they were spending almost every night together before as well, there’s something special about coming home and Amy already being there. Not because they’ve made specific plans for her to be, but because that’s the norm, because home is the same place for the two of them now. There’s something intimate about getting to share a routine with her, working out a system for who gets the bathroom when in the morning, adding stuff onto the same grocery list. Even seeing his t-shirts next to hers in the dresser puts a smile on his face in the morning. It feels grown-up, and it feels stable, and it feels right. 

    He wonders sometimes if he could have imagined this the night she knocked on his door to tell him screw light and breezy. Honestly, he probably could have, even if he was too proud to admit it to himself in the beginning. But after a year and a half of dating, of which six excruciating months were spent apart (and hopefully no more will ever be, he thinks), Jake couldn’t care less about pride. He loves Amy Santiago, and he wants to spend all the time he can with her, give her everything and share his life with her for as long as she’ll let him. That, if anything, makes him proud. In any case, it’s like he said that first night undercover as Johnny and Dora – there’s really no one else’s opinion he cares about more than hers. 

    Amy finishes the chapter, reaching for a bookmark before putting the book on her nightstand.

“There,” she laughs. “That’s your goodnight story.”

“Mm, one more chapter.”

“Mm, no. It’s late, babe.”

“I have a question,” he says then, knowing it’ll garner her attention and give him some more treasured quality time before they really have to go to sleep. Amy raises an eyebrow and shakes her head lovingly at him, but then she nods. “Harry’s patronus is a stag, right? Like his dad’s animagus form. And in the fifth book, Hermione has an otter, and Ron some kind of dog.”

“A Jack Russell terrier. Yeah, why?”

“How is your patronus determined? Like… how does it know?”

“It’s supposed to reflect your innermost personality,” she answers, not missing a beat. “It represents something about you that makes you who you are. Something that gives you strength, I would say. So for Harry, that would be the thought of his parents fighting for him.”

“I like that,” Jake says. “A lot of things in that universe are just grossly poetic though, aren't they?”

This makes Amy chuckle. “Very true.”

“What do you think yours would be?”

“Oh. Hmm.” She presses her lips together. “I don't know. What do you think?”

“We could find out,” He grins, reaching for his phone. “I’m sure there's a BuzzFeed quiz.”

      He's right – and although Amy rolls her eyes at him at first, they end up having a laugh at the quiz, picking the options they think best suit the other one and shrugging when the results suggest Amy’s would be a horse, and Jake’s a stag.

“The descriptions are pretty accurate, though,” Amy says, reading from Jake’s phone. “Brave and fearless, and your greatest asset is your ability to love. Sometimes you get a bit hot-headed and impatient –” Jake fake-gasps. “– but your friends are your source of peace, getting you through the good and bad.”

“I still think it should be a ninja turtle,” he mutters. “But yours is true, too. Loyal, smart, underrated badass.”

“It just gave us the same patronuses as Harry and Ginny.” Amy smiles. “They do get together later, so I guess that works.”

“Spoilers! I haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

“Oh, come on, it’s really obvious.” She kisses the pouting grimace off of his face. “Different question. What memory would you use to cast your patronus?”

“I have thought about that,” he confesses, blushing. “It’s a three-way tie. The first time you told me you loved me. That evening when you stood outside my door and told me you wanted to be with me, for reals. Maybe even our first date, after the bet. All of those, together… I think they’d make a damn good patronus.”

“Wow.” Amy almost looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting that moment of sincerity. “I’m surprised you didn’t just say the first time we had sex or something.”

“Would you have wanted me to say that? Wait, is that yours? Santiago –”

“Oh my god, obviously not –”

“Obviously? Wow, hurtful, much –”

“Just let me finish!”

“Title of –”

“Stop!” Amy’s shaking with laughter, holding her hand on top of his mouth just for a second. “Stop, stop. What I meant to say was that it’s the same for me. That’s what I’d think of, too.”

“Even the bet? Even though you lost?”

“Yes, babe. Even though I lost.”

“So it wouldn’t be the first time we had sex, then.”

She smirks. “We’ve had better since.”

Then she leans over him, and her lips are on his, insistent but soft at once. His heartbeat’s speeding by the time she pulls away, and it satisfies him to see that her face is a little flushed, too. 

“For the record,” Jake mumbles as she rests her head on his chest after, “this, right here – would also work for a damn good patronus.”

“Oh, yeah. No dementor would stand a chance.”

“Mm. You’re a nerd, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the feeling that’s started growing in him recently.

Forever, this could be forever.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fanfiction #this is so self-indulgent wow #harry potter

[eternalglitch]

Like Father Like Son: Chapter 3

Prologue Arc 1: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

Read it HERE on ao3.

Chapter Specific Warnings: no specific ones (please see the general ones listed in the prologue)

Chapter Three: All Green and Blue

“He’s not picking up. Why isn’t he picking up?!” Mikey demanded, looking up from his phone. The youngest couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot, a sort of buzzing energy from his anxiety making him want to move. Why couldn’t his brothers walk faster?

“Yeah, it is odd he wouldn’t answer either of us…” Donnie agreed, squinting at his wrist tech. “I can’t locate his phone’s location, either. It’s either out of battery or broken.”

Finally, Mikey thought with relief, Raph’s pace noticeably quickened, his brothers right on his heels. “Okay… okay. First, we’re gonna backtrack the possible routes to the pizza place, and then we’re going to check any place he could have ended up. Donnie?” The leader of the group glanced at the purple turtle, gaze expectant.

“On it, I’ll hack any nearby cameras and run a scanner through social media looking for buzzwords,” the technological prodigy replied, typing quickly. “I’ll compile a list of people that might’ve gone after him as well.”

“People that went after him?” Mikey asked, now even more nervous, his voice rising a pitch or two until it cracked completely. “You think the foot clan or Big Mama is behind this? What if they’ve hurt him?” Mikey reached out and clung to Donnie’s elbow, staring over at Donnie’s screen as stats whizzed by. The other turtle tolerated it, but didn’t stop typing to pat his shell or head. That was a sign things really were serious. “What if he’s all alone and scared or… or I don’t know! I can’t even begin to picture him being scared!”

“Again, Michael, I’m sure it’s really nothing, we’re just being thorough—“ Donnie finally started to reassure him, but his eyes never moved from the screen until a loud clatter rang out. Donnie froze, Mikey almost stumbling as he was also pulled to a sudden stop. They looked down.

Leo’s sword was lying, innocently forgotten, all alone on the sewer floor.

Mikey let out a small sound in the back of his throat, bending down to pick up the Odachi by its hilt, hands shaking slightly. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and face a paler shade of green than was normal, pale enough that he could actually see his yellow freckles that oh so rarely showed up. “Guys?” he whispered. “Has Leo ever gone out without his weapon?”

“I’m sure there’s a reason… or… or an explanation,” Donnie grasped at, but after he glanced at Raph, who shot him a panicked look, Donnie bowed his head, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought.  

It was Raph who spoke next, his voice low and urgent. “If something did go down– someone must’ve been inside of the sewers– I’m not sure Leo even made it outside for the pizzas in the first place.” The eldest scratched his head, his expression slowly darkening.

“So they came here purposefully looking for us and somehow we didn't even notice them brothernap Leo from right here?” Mikey looked around at the ground, eyes flicking up and down the sewer walls like the name of the culprit would be left behind with a clean, neat note. He needed someone to tell him flat out that it was going to be okay, he realized weakly, hugging the sword close. Someone to crack a bad joke about the situation, or know what to say. He needed… he needed his brother.

“I’ll call April,” Raph said, phone already out. He already had her number pulled up as well, finger hovering over the green button to call. “We’ll need eyes in every possible place, including checking to see if this was on Leo’s way to or from the pizza place.”

“I now have generated the list of most likely suspects,” Donnie added, pulling up a screen that had a numbered list of the names of their many yokai nemeses. At the top of the list were the various yokai that constantly fought with them on the regular, and the list continued down until it ended with a Warren Stone, although Donnie must have added him just to be safe; in reality, Mikey barely remembered the guy. “It looks like the first name my algorithm came up with is those mutant crabmen we came across recently- apparently they sometimes linger in this area.”

Raph nodded, pulling his phone away from his tympanum and giving them a thumbs up. “April’s in,” he confirmed. The way he said it was heavy; the air shifted, and the panic is forced down until Mikey only has to concentrate on being efficient and focused. “Now, Mad Dogs; let’s move.”

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The floor framed between Leo’s hands was swimming; sweat dripped down and splattered onto the negative space that the floor was made up of, and he was dimly aware that his arms shook under the pressure of holding himself up. Get up, he told himself. Get up, you have to do something. Anything. Just get up, Leonardo.

“Get up,” Draxum echoed his sentiment, voice expectant.

The repeat was like a slap to the face; Leo could only lift his chin to stare at him, a bitter laugh being swallowed before it escaped his lips. Sure, he knew he needed to do that, but it seemed a bit ridiculous for the guy with the metaphorical big red button to ask him to as well. He had a concussion and had just been fried; what did Draxum expect him to do-

The collar let out a shrill buzzer sound, and Leo only had a split second to think what? before the collar lit up for a third time. His arms gave out and he hit the ground hard, and even though he knew what would happen if he screamed, he couldn’t help but do so anyways. The result was exactly as expected. His mouth felt dry.

“Don’t you think the shock’s intensity is too high, Boss?” one of the gargoyles asked from above him. Leo couldn’t see which one; stars danced in front of his hazy vision. “He looks kinda dead after just four zaps.”

“Yeah. And it’s probably going to take a lot of these shocks for it to sink in,” the other agreed. “He keeps making it worse.”

Draxum scoffed, and Leo flinched slightly at the sound, hands weakly rising to shield his head from any more attacks. “Well. I just set it to what he should be strong enough to take. It’s his own fault for being weak. He’s lucky; I don’t have the advanced setting on yet.”

Leo felt Draxum’s nails dig into his bicep as the yokai reached down and hauled him up to his feet, Leo swaying as he tried to lean away from the yokai. “Stay still,” Draxum ordered, and Leo bit down hard enough on his inner cheek he tasted copper, barely accomplishing the feat.

Draxum circled him, hands clasped behind his back. Leo’s head felt foggy, and he didn’t even bother watching Draxum; his head kept drooping forwards, like when he was watching Donnie’s favorite Jupiter Jim movie without Raph around to liven things up. Everything hurt so badly. His hands wrapped around himself and Leo shrunk a bit under Draxum’s assessment.

“You’re slower to catch on than I would have thought,” Draxum said after a moment. “But let me spell it out now, just for the sake of ‘fairness,’” he added with his fingers punctuating the last word with air quotes. “The collar has three things that you will be shocked for. Any vocalizations, or any failure to follow my exact orders as well as… well. I could always just order it to go off.” Leo flinched, his fists tightening. Was Draxum enjoying this? April had taught them the meaning of the word sadistic at one point, after their first prank day on her where no one had told her it was coming. And that was the only word Leo could think of at the moment when he glanced up and into Draxum’s eyes.

This was sadistic.

“It was quite the impressive invention, really,” he continued. “Somehow a simple shock collar had a complicated A.I. that understood the situation at hand enough to correct situational humor. Not to mention it didn’t even need to feel the vocal chords vibrating; it could be programmed to listen for a certain individual’s voice and go off regardless of if it was being worn or not. A bit overkill, if you ask me, but who am I to judge?” A smug smile crossed his lips. “Your brother must have felt quite strongly about this to have put so much work into fixing your flaws.”

He didn’t know anything, Leo told himself. Donnie was just like that, he had made his dorky and kind of insensitive gifts for everyone, he hadn’t been trying to single Leo out or anything. Of course not. Even if Mikey and Raph’s inventions hadn’t caused them any harm at all when they used them, just tried to prematurely stop them from doing it. Even if Leo and Donnie were the main two that squabbled, he never would have… Leo shook his head, one hand slowly rising to press against his forehead.

He couldn’t think like this, he needed to bounce his ideas off of someone for it to be useful. Had Dad ever taught him what to do in a situation like this? A quick scan through memories of Splinter handing him his first pair of swords, of noodle fights and throwing stars, and the only thing Leo could come up with was the advice “stay with your brothers. You will protect all of them, and they in turn will all protect you. And if you get separated, stay in one spot until we can find you.”

Yeah, great, but that advice had been from when Leo was seven. When Splinter had first let them wander a bit farther into the sewers to explore with just the four of them. This wasn’t getting lost in the sewers, this was- this was something more. He was starting to have to face the knowledge that this was something serious, even.

“Pay attention when I am speaking!” Draxum suddenly snapped, and Leo went rigid when the collar let out a low, almost inaudible chirp, his eyes darting down to where he could see the blue rim of the machine before back up to Draxum. The collar didn’t otherwise react, though, but Leo kept still, wondering when the proverbial shoe would drop. “How will I teach you anything if you keep zoning out?”

“It miiiiiight be the concussion,” Muninn offered, one hand on his chin. “We’ve seen a few guys get hit before, Boss, and they also had that spacey look to them.”

Draxum threw up his hands. “Well, he should learn to deal with that. Injuries are something to be powered through.” The yokai took a deep breath, and the two gargoyles dipped as his shoulders slowly became less tense. “But. Very well. Before I forget, a few rules,” he said, voice suddenly back to the flavor of ‘calm with an undertone of smugness.’ AKA the most punchable tone of voice Leo had ever heard. “No trying to escape from me.” The collar let out a soft beep and Leo winced. “No trying to take the collar off.” Another wince. “And, other than attacking, absolutely no contact with any other turtles.” What? That wasn’t- he couldn’t just do that. Leo opened his mouth, keen to argue, but Draxum just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting.

On second thought, Leo had nothing to say. His hands curled into tight fists.

“Excellent. And now that I have…” Draxum trailed off, pausing. He fixed Leonardo with a puzzled gaze. He leaned closer to Muninn, holding up one hand to loudly whisper to the gargoyle. “What was this one called, again?”

Muninn blinked, turning and glancing at Huginn, who shrugged back at him. “Uh… ha, wow, Boss, wait, you don’t know?” The gargoyle asked, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t you hand pick him, though?”

Draxum’s eyes widened, slightly flustered. “No! Well, yes. But…” All three villains turned and stared at Leo, who crossed his arms as he stared back at them, lifting his chin slightly in a challenge. This guy had been after them long enough to at least know their nicknames, he thought, somehow still finding it within him to be annoyed.

“Wasn’t it… Larry or… Lawrence?” Huginn weakly offered up, but Draxum rested his chin in one hand, thinking.

“No, it wasn’t that. What was it again…” Draxum trailed off, frowning.

Muninn suddenly perked up. “Hey, wait, why don't we ask him? Hey, turtle! What’s your name?” he yelled, and Leo felt one of his eyes twitch. He glanced down at his shock collar, and both gargoyles made little ‘oooooh’ sounds of understanding.

“That’s right, it was Green!” Draxum suddenly said, hitting his fist into the palm of his other hand. He smiled, brushing some of his hair over his shoulder. “I remember now, how silly of me to have forgotten.”

“What? But- but he’s the one wearing blue.” Huginn darted around Leo, pulling at the bandana tails behind his head. It was a light touch, but even just that made Leo sway, his arms having to slightly go forwards as he forced himself to stay standing. He didn’t know if he would be shocked again if he fell, but from the way black dots swam in Leo’s vision, he couldn’t afford to risk it. “I don’t know, Boss, I think his name would be Blue if he’s named after a color.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure of it,” Draxum declared as Leo weakly shooed the gargoyle away from him with one hand. “It was definitely Green. Besides, that’s but a small detail. I could call him whatever I wanted, really. More importantly, we need to decide how to go about making him my ideal warrior before any of the others show up.”

Leo flinched, one hand absently reaching up to rub at the collar. The skin underneath it already felt raw and uncomfortable; he wondered if it was going to leave scars.

He then wondered if he’d ever be able to even see if it had.

“Ooh, why don’t we inject him with some more ooze?” Muninn suggested, clasping both hands together excitedly, wings fluttering as he hopped slightly into the air. “That seems to make everything better! Think of the possibilities: spikes, a tail, and our personal favorite—”

“Fire-breathing!” The two gargoyles sung at the exact same moment.

“A tempting idea, but no,” Draxum said, shaking his head. “Physically speaking, his body is as good as I had hoped for, it’s the rest of it that’s the issue. Respect and obedience should come naturally with the aid of that collar, but as for training techniques…” Draxum circled Leo yet again; was he trying to make him dizzy enough to fall over? “With the level of sheer incompetence that I’ve witnessed, it would take far too long for me to train him myself from scratch. And I don't trust you two to be in charge of it, either…”

“Ouch, Boss,” Muninn said, one hand over his heart. “That really hurts.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Huginn flapped harder, shooting over to Draxum. “We actually know exactly how to do this! I mean, not to flex or anything, but Muninn and I did do our fair share of training in school.”

“Uh,” Muninn stammered, looking lost, but a quick elbow from Huginn and he blinked and also smiled at Draxum. “Yeah, absolutely. So…” he trailed off, shooting his friend a nervous glance.

“What faster way to train someone than to just give them a bunch of experience! You know, the good ole ‘learn as you do’ method!”  Huginn finished with a flourish.

“Hmm, you do have a point,” Draxum considered. He stopped walking. “Surprisingly.”

“Why thank you,” Huginn trilled, bowing.

Draxum’s gaze went back onto Leo, who couldn’t help but shrink away, hands nervously reaching up to hold onto the top of his plastron. “And that gives me the perfect idea…”

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“Draxum!” Raph bellowed, kicking open the door, Mikey and Donnie flanking him on either side. The turtle huffed, glancing around the lab as he searched for his target.

The third name on Donnie’s list had to be it, right? Surely. It had taken them far too long to hunt down the Sando Brothers and force them to tell them anything, and the next yokai they had tried had had similar results. April hadn’t found anything, either, but the pizzas had been paid for so… so…

Ugh! Raph couldn’t put these pieces together right now. He just needed to find his younger brother and save him from whatever mess he had found himself in this time.

There was the sound of slow clapping, and the sheep yokai appeared from around the column of ooze, one gargoyle perched on his right shoulder. “Well, well,” he greeted them, a smile on his face. “It’s quite rare for you turtles to come and seek me out. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the cr—“ Donnie started to say, but Mikey beat him to it, bounding in front of his brothers. Raph almost reached out to pull him back, but he stopped himself; he understood Mikey’s point of view enough that he had also barged in, weapons ready to go.

“Where’s our brother, you creep?” Mikey demanded, his weapon already spinning in his hands.

“Ah,” the yokai replied, blinking at them. The gargoyle snickered softly, and Draxum glanced at it, some message passing between the two of them. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The way he said it- it was casual. Too casual. That was suspicious, right? Raph couldn’t possibly be the only one to think so. “You’re lying,” he snarled. “What did you do with Leo?”

The gargoyle perked up, about to say something, but Draxum covered it with one of his hands. “Really,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Whatever you silly children are accusing me of, I don’t have any involvement. Search my lab, if you must, but I’m in the middle of some very important experiments. I’d really rather not fight today; but I will, if you insist. That is,” and the yokai sneered at them, eyes flashing. “If you have that kind of time to waste. Whatever you’re up to, it sounds very... urgent.”

(Chapter Four –>) 

#glitch writes #lfls #rottmnt lfls #like father like son #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #angst #rottmnt fanfic #my writing #yes i remember to update on tumblr sometimes #jazz hands

[19tozier]

bowl for two (stanley barber)

warnings: WEED, being high, this is fully inspired by the first time i ever got high with my boyfriend, its kinda self-indulgent but pretty sweet imo

inspired by the song bowl for two by the expendables

you couldn’t really place exactly when you’d shifted from thinking marijuana was bad to wanting to try it.

when you were younger, the idea of ever getting high was incomprehensible to you. you’d been taught that weed was an awful gateway drug and that it would ruin your life if you ever so much as looked at it, and so all throughout your childhood and teen years you were terrified to try it.

it got easier to accept your curiosity about it the more you grew up, mostly because it was all around you. tv shows, movies, any party you went to, it was there. and you began to realize that weed wasn’t necessarily the devil’s drug that you’d been taught to believe.

you can admit that a lot of that acceptance had come after you’d started dating stanley.

at first, it had bothered you how often he got stoned. it scared you and made you think that something bad was going to happen to him. but slowly, you saw just how much more relaxed and happy he could be when he smoked. it was like his troubles melted away with his giggles.

he’s the reason you wanted to try it.

you don’t tell him about it for a long time, content to just watch him get high. every time he offers you a hit from his blunt, and every time you politely decline even if you desperately wanted to. you wanted to wait until it was the perfect time.

you needed to mentally work up to actually smoking. plus, you’re hesitant to ever drive while stoned, so it needs to happen on a night you don’t have to drive home.

this is all to say that it ends up being that you and stanley have been dating for over a year by the time you actually accept his offers.

you’re curled up on stanley’s bed one night, watching him puttering around his room. it’s late, only his bedside lamp casting hazy orange light over you both, and it’s raining softly against his window. your parents think you’re spending the night with dina and syd and his father is once again gone. there’s no place you need to be.

you’re so ready to get high tonight.

it really is the perfect opportunity. you don’t have to drive, his dad isn't here to ruin the experience, and you’re so cozy and comfortable you could melt. and, the most important part, you’re with the boy you love. who you know will take perfect care of you.

it’s like clockwork now; stanley finishes whatever he was doing and returns to you in the bed. he’s already fishing out a blunt from his tin before he’s clambered under the sheets and slotted himself against your side.

you watch silently, in awe, as he lights the blunt and takes a slow, careful drag, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. the curve of his throat when he tilts his head back is as gorgeous as it is distracting.

he looks over at you, his eyes hooded and a soft smile already playing on his lips. “want a hit?” he asks you, his voice quiet. he reaches the blunt out to you lazily, like he’s certain you’ll say no again.

you take a deep breath and nod before you can talk yourself out of it. surprise shoots through his features, his mouth dropping open for a second before he grins.

“you’ll love it, baby,” he reassures, sitting up against his headboard. you sit up too, still eyeing the blunt with suspicion but feeling excitement flutter in your tummy. “do you know how?”

you shake your head shyly. as many times as you’ve watched stanley do it, you don’t think you could really recreate it.

his smile softens into something more intimate. “don’t worry,” he murmurs, coaxing you into his lap with your back pressed against his chest. he’s warm and solid behind you and when he speaks his words vibrate down your spine. “i’ll show you.”

he’s slow as he hands you the blunt, like he’s trying not to overwhelm you. you appreciate it, because your heart is pounding as your fingers grip the blunt.

stanley’s arm wraps around your waist, his chin brushing the top of your head. his other hand wraps around your wrist, guiding the blunt up to your lips. “easy, baby,” he whispers. “just breathe in, okay? i’ve got you.”

you nod. your toes curl against his sheets before you drag a breath in.

it burns, immediately, the smoke curling into your lungs and making you think, irrationally, that you’re on fire. you almost can’t get the blunt away before you’re coughing, thick and wet. you feel it being plucked from between your fingers as your eyes fill with tears and your stomach trembles with the force of your coughing.

stanley lets one hand press against your sternum, his other soothing over your tummy. he’s shushing you gently, rubbing over your chest as he coaxes you into breathing normally again. once you’re no longer wheezing, he hands you the water bottle he had on his nightstand, watching carefully as you take tiny sips until you feel fine again.

“are you okay, love?” there’s a frantic edge to his voice.

you nod, swallowing. there’s a burn in your throat and in your chest that hasn’t gone away but you want more. you can’t feel the high, not yet, but there’s something dancing just out of your reach, like an awareness that you will be high. and suddenly you crave it.

“gimme the blunt back,” you croak, fumbling your hand out for it. you almost grab it before stanley catches your wrist in his palm again.

you can feel his frown against the side of your neck. “are you sure?” he questions you. the panic in his tone is fading away now. “you don’t have to.”

you reach around and steal it from the tray on the nightstand beside you. “i want to,” you promise, settling back against his chest and bringing the blunt back to your lips.

it still burns, the inhale rough down your throat and into your lungs. you manage to keep the smoke inside for a moment before it all exhales from your coughs. this time, it’s easier to quell the burning, the water soothing your aching throat.

stanley takes the blunt from you and this time you don’t fight him. you tilt your head back against his shoulder, watching as he takes his own drag. this close, you can fully appreciate the pink of his lips around it, the stark sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks. he’s gorgeous.

he’s a pro, inhaling slowly and letting it sit in his lungs until there’s nothing to exhale. he doesn’t cough, his eyes don’t water, and you’re hit with the want to be like that someday. you’ve just barely gotten high in the first place and already you want it for the second, fifth, twentieth, one hundredth time.

he reaches over and puts the blunt back down on the tray, immediately wrapping you back up in his arms afterward. “how do you feel, baby?” he murmurs, kissing your temple. his voice is husky in your ear.

you thread your fingers together with his against your stomach. “no different,” you say honestly, furrowing your brow. “lemme take another hit.”

to your surprise, he laughs. “i think two’s enough for now, angel. you’ll feel it soon.”

you want to frown at that but his laugh sounds like music, deep and rough but high and tinkling all the same. you can almost see it shimmering in the air around you, so visceral you feel like you could reach out and feel it against your palms.

“what is it supposed to feel like?” you ask, curious. you weren’t lying when you said you feel the same. if you hadn’t just taken two hits, you’d be certain you were sober.

stanley shrugs, his shoulders moving against the curve of your spine. “good. kinda floaty, kinda unreal.” he grins, kissing your jaw. “like you’re a jellyfish in the big dark ocean.”

you giggle, hopelessly in love with your idiot of a boyfriend. you twist in his lap until you can straddle his thighs, brushing his curls from his forehead. “jellyfish, huh?” you tease. “is that supposed to be good?”

he nods his head, putting on a serious expression. “it’s always good to be a jellyfish, (y/n), you know this.” he can’t keep up the act for long, almost immediately melting back into his sweet smile.

you roll your eyes. there’s a feeling in your chest now, almost like it’s cracking open, but it’s not scary. if anything, it feels good. “how am i supposed to know when it hits me?”

he rolls his eyes back, mimicking your expression. “‘cause it’ll hit, duh. c’mon, pay attention!”

you thwack at his chest with your hand, vindicated when he yelps. “you’re a little bitch, stanley barber. they should call you stanley bitch-er.”

he throws his head back and laughs. you watch, mesmerized, as the light from his lamp pools in the hollow of his throat and collarbones. you can’t fight the urge to touch, your hand following the shadows. his skin is so soft beneath your fingertips in a way that feels delicious, so you find you can’t stop.

his smile shifts into something softer, a little more knowing. “what’re you doin’ there, baby?” he asks you quietly.

you make a soft noise, still touching his skin. your fingertips are beginning to buzz. “it feels good,” you mumble. the stubble on his jaw is next, the rough scrape oddly pleasant against your fingers.

his palms smooth up your thighs to grip your hips, his thumbs nudging up under the fabric of your—really his, you rarely wear your own clothing around him—t-shirt. it’s a distracting feeling, the drag of his thumbs over your tummy, and you find yourself transfixed it. every swipe of his thumbs over your sensitive skin builds something inside of you, until suddenly it all comes pouring out.

“i’m high,” you say wondrously, eyeing the walls around you. they look the same but somehow you think they’re swimming, just a bit, but when you focus on them they go still again. the buzzing in your skin ratchets up a notch.

stanley nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah, baby, you are,” he whispers back. “how do you feel?”

you touch your own chest, looking down at your fingers. it doesn’t feel real. “good,” you say, echoing his earlier statement. “floaty. like i’m a turtle, y’know?”

he laughs, and somehow you know he’s not laughing at you. “not a jellyfish, then? a turtle instead?”

you nod, reaching up to grip at his shoulders. “yeah, a turtle. i like turtles. they’re old and wise and—“ you break off and frown, a little sadly. “i wish i was old and wise.”

this time, stanley’s laugh is loud. he pulls you into his chest and grins up at you. “i think you’re plenty wise, baby. and i like you not-old.”

you push your fingers into his hair, watching the curls bounce around under your hands. you do feel really good, spacey and a little dumb, but there’s a part of you that still feels fully sober. “can we finish the blunt?” you ask shyly.

he smiles at you. “of course, (y/n). we’ll take turns.”

and take turns you do, passing the blunt back and forth between you until stanley’s taking the last drag and putting it out on the tray. you’re still not great at the inhale, coughing more than you should, but each hit helps relax you more and more until you’re melting against his chest, your eyes lidded.

time ceases to exist. it moves syrupy slow around you, enough that every second feels like a year, but somehow you’re also in fast forward. you blink and an hour has gone by. your limbs are heavy but you feel completely weightless, like the only thing grounding you to this bed and to this earth is stanley’s hands on your body and his lips in your hair.

sometime later, you’re stretched out on the bed, your head pillowed on stanley’s shoulder. the high has truly set in now, your blood feeling like static through your veins.

you’d always wondered how you’d be when you were high. stanley is always stereotypically high; giggly but honestly much the same as he is when he’s sober, as dorky and as quirky as ever. but you? when you’re sober, you like to think you’re rather dignified. but you high? oh, it’s a whole new story.

your thoughts don’t make any sense, disjointed words and abstract metaphors and feelings more than coherent expressions. they go by too quickly for you to really latch on to. your filter is also completely gone, so anything you think gets almost immediately spewed out before you can stop it.

you’d asked stanley about it, a little put out that now you’re the giggly mess and he seemed fine. he’d just shrugged and said he was pretty used to it, while this was your first time. it had made perfect sense, so you’d dropped your embarrassment over just how stupid you were certain you were being. he seemed to like it, at least.

“all of the numbers have different personalities,” you now breathe against stanley’s neck, tilting your head up to see him. he’s been drawing aimless circles over your back for the past couple of minutes and it feels nice.

lazily, he flops his chin down to look at you. “what’s that mean, baby?”

you giggle, bringing your hand up to play with the collar of his shirt. “the numbers. y’know, like one and two and three. all of them. they’ve got personalities.”

his chest shakes with his laughter. “but what does that even mean?”

you gasp, sitting up on your elbow over him. “you’ve never thought about this? stanley! c’mon!”

he grins up at you, his eyes dancing with mirth. he’s so beautiful you feel yourself getting distracted, but his words bring you back to the present. “explain it to me then.”

you wrinkle your nose, because you aren’t sure your words will make any sense, but you’ve gotta try anyways. it’s for stanley. “i mean, like... the number nine, right? the number nine is that bitch. ‘cause she’s three squared. she’s, like, super cool and suave. and all the even numbers, they’re just sweet. all of ‘em. they’re like the wholesome group everyone wants to be friends with. seven? oh, seven is a loner kid. he’s absolutely a stoner. and—”

you’re cut off by stanley’s lips. normally you’d be upset he interrupted you, especially since the thought disappears the second you stop paying attention to it, but his mouth against yours feels so good you can’t be mad at all. his lips are soft and sugary from the lemonade he’s been drinking, and you lick into his mouth until you taste the sharp bite of the weed. you blearily wonder if he can taste it in your mouth, too. when you pull back, you’re both breathing hard. his pupils are blown but his grin is soft and loving. he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “you’re goofy when you’re high,” he tells you.

you smile back. “you’re goofy when you’re high,” you retort nonsensically. “thanks for smoking with me.”

he kisses you again, this time much gentler. against your mouth, he breathes, “anytime, baby.”

you hum, slipping your hands into his hair. “how about tomorrow?”

you grin at the sound of his laughter. you’re really glad he’s around to make you feel safe. and you are stupidly, completely glad you decided to get high.

you might be so stoned that you’re flying, but there’s no one else you’d want to fly with.

#stanley barber imagine #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber x you #i am not okay with this #ianowt imagine #ianowt x reader #my writing

[glitchh3d]

||Helping to Forget|| ~ Snippet (Feeling down)

I’m feeling kind of sad so I wrote something nice and cute about Terushima and (Y/n) and yeah... 

Word count: 884 Warnings: Language

Masterlist

September 4th

“(Y/n)?” Terushima called into the apartment. “I come bearing gifts!” He kicked off his shoes after shutting the door. 

There was no response. 

“(Y/n)?” He called again. He set down the bag of takeout on the table and shoved his keys into his pocket. “Where are you?” 

“Ah! Yuuji! I-I’m just-” He heard her sniffle and get up from her bed as he approached her door. Right as he turned to walk into the room, the door slammed on his face. “J-just give me a minute!” 

“Are you alright? Are you crying?” A choked sob came from behind the door and Terushima’s eyes blew wide. “(Y/n), hey open the door. Talk to me.” 

“I can’t! Just- I’m fine!” 

“Clearly you're not! Please, I just want to help you out, princess!” Terushima wiggled the doorknob, noticing it was unlocked. He turned it hesitantly and shoved the door open. 

(Y/n) sat in her bed, comforter wrapped around her head and shoulders. She had her knees pulled to her chest and she was now, very obviously, crying. Terushima felt his heart ache and he rushed forward, pulling (Y/n) into his arms. 

“(Y/n)...” She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She sobbed into his chest. “Please talk to me.” He whispered, setting his chin on the top of her head. 

“I just- I’m a failure. My mom and dad- and, and-” Her voice got caught in her through as more tears came flowing out of her eyes. 

“No, (Y/n). No, that’s- why would you say that? You’re not a failure at all. You’re beautiful, and smart. You have such an amazing personality and your so fucking perfect,” Terushima said, pulling the blanket away from her head. He leaned them back onto her pile of pillows and held her cheeks in his hands. “You’re absolutely perfect.” 

She shook her head. 

“Yes you are.” 

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend!” Her lip quivered as he wiped away some stray tears. He scoffed at her. 

“No. I’m saying that because it’s true. Even ask Futakuchi, or Taichi. Or Atsumu. You’re so smart, and-”

“I’m not smart!” (Y/n) pulled her phone from her pocket. She hovered her thumb over the finger recognition and Terushima glanced at the screen. Her grades were pulled up for her History class. “Look.” 

He looked closer, noticing that she got a 62% on an essay he knew she worked super hard on. “Fuck, (Y/n). That’s just because your History professor is a sexist asshole.” Terushima grabbed the phone away, swiping the grades off of the screen. Instead he went to her instagram. 

“Look at this, (Y/n).” She looked at her phone screen in confusion. 

“It’s… it’s just my instagram?” 

“That might be what you see, but do you wanna know what I see?” (Y/n) hesitated before nodding. Terushima clicked on the first photo. It was of her at a local nursing home playing a board game with a group of old women. 

“This is you volunteering at a nursing home. Do you know how many college students WILLINGLY do this?” She shrugged. “None. I’d never in a million years go to a nursing home. And you do it for fun because seeing the smiles on those old peoples faces make you happy. And you make them happy.” He clicked on another photo. 

This time it was of a photo of her and her cousins on the beach. She’d been on vacation visiting her family and she’d convinced her younger cousins to go do trash pickup at their local beach. “What do you see?” Terushima asked. She sighed. 

“I see… I see me? Picking up garbage…” 

“Right. Because you're not some fake ‘save the turtles’ VSCO girl. You’re a real genuine human who enjoys making life better for other people and creatures.” 

The next photo was of her on a mission trip. She was handing out water and supplies to people who’d just suffered loss from a tsunami. The next photo was from the same trip, playing with some little kids who were traumatized and upset to try and lift their spirits. 

“Being smart isn’t the only thing that matters in life, (Y/n). Being kind and true to yourself is a sign of true success. If you can get through life and obtain being a genuine good human being, then I'd say you’re a winner. Grades don’t matter, that one stupid history paper doesn’t matter.” Terushima said. 

“You’re perfect and amazing and wonderful and I just want to help you realize that,” Terushima said, shutting her phone off. He set it down next to him on the bed before wrapping (Y/n) in his arms again. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. 

“Promise me that if you ever feel like you’re not good enough or you're a disappointment, that you’ll come to me and talk to me, okay? Because you should never feel like that and I’ll be damned if I sit back and not do anything.” (Y/n) nodded, snuggling closer to her friend. 

“Good. Come on, (Y/n). I got us some take-out. Why don’t we watch your favorite movie and eat?” 

“Sure. Thank you, Yuu-chii.” 

“Of course. Anything for my princess.”

Taglist: @kaitycole, @cosmicmermaid25, @sempiternal-amour, @99astrid, @hidden-otaku-stuff, @vicassa, @elianetsantana, @ankl3s, @newfriendjen, @oikawa-simp, @dakotacecily, @axolotleyeliner, @heyyourecute, @tchalameme, @toobsessedsstuff

#terushima x y/n #terushima x you #terushima x reader #terushima yuuji #smau #x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu

[zombiekillerky]

{ROTTMNT Fanfic} - Burden

( WARNING : This is not Turtle x Turtle related at all, this is purely just some family scenarios with no relationships at all what’s so ever. Just regular day in the life turtle stuff)

[Also before you read this, I’m not very knowledgeable with ROTTMNT just yet. I just started binge watching the episodes recently so if I get any information wrong about the series I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this though.]

It was around an hour before when he left the lair down below the surface. Not even bothering to tell his brother’s where he went off to before he had left. He was to much of a burden to them any way so why would they want to know where he went off to. It seemed like they were just all around annoyed with him to be fair. More then the usual annoyance of his sick puns he made through out the day to lighten the mood with his humor. Almost like he had done something wrong and didn’t even know about it. The blue masked turtle let out a sigh as he sat on top of on of the roof tops. Staring down at the light the shined in the city around him. His chin rested in the palms of his hands as he sat there in silence. Debating on what to do next in his little solo adventure by himself. The loneliness was hitting him hard, unlike Raph he could be alone for periods of time easy. But it was the fact that his brother’s didn’t want him around them, that made the feeling worse in the pit of his stomach. He just didn’t understand why, and that was his worst fear. That they didn’t want him around any more and that’s what it felt like at the moment.

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

“Hey......hey Donnie watcha doing!” Leo asked as he spun in the spare chair his brother had by his computer desk. The purple banded turtle seemed busy enough, coming up with new ideas and advancements with his past inventions. His brother groaned in annoyance as he hunched over his table yet again, ignoring his brother behind him. Continuing tinkering with his bow staff in his hand to fix the little problems he had using it last time. Leo’s brow raised as he pushed himself over using the end of the table against the wall. Pushing past his brother swiftly and glanced over his shoulder to see what he was working on at the moment.Curiosity was all he had at the moment and the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. He knew Donnie would get easily distracted by him moving so he tried to stop himself from moving any more. His plan was to get a good spot to look at his project behind him. Failing miserably as he fell back with a loud smack of the back of his shell hitting the floor along with the chair. 

“Leo could you leave, you’re distracting me from my work to much. I can’t even think with you around causing all of this noise! Can’t you just go and bother someone else!” Donnie exclaimed as Leo laid there on the floor in pain as he looked at his brother looking down upon him. The small sound of a pop in his ribs filled the room as he sat up from the floor quickly. Donnie soon turned back to his bow staff as he sat there on the floor. The blue masked turtle sighed as he stood up from the ground quite quickly. Running his brother’s words through his head that pierced his heart somewhat. Leo sighed, his posture hunched over somewhat, his ego bruised by his brother’s words. the comedic turtle walked in to the front room. His head lifted up and found Mikey in the kitchen, humming a tune softly to himself as he stared at the cook book on the table. Leo smiled widely as he raced over and ducked in tot he kitchen, his younger brother seemed to be cooking a desert dish. One of the many things he liked to cook and practice in the kitchen on his days off. Leo glanced around the island in the kitchen and stood up fast. 

“Hey Mikey, watcha cookin?” Leo asked as he stood up, frightening his brother somewhat as he stood there concentrating. Mikey screamed, dropping a little more then enough flour in to the mix. His brow knitted together as he glared at Leo standing there on the opposite side of him. Mikey was never one to be overly angry, but his face at the moment showed all.

“Leo could you NOT scare my in the kitchen like that bro, you made me pour a lot more flour then what I needed.....I have no clue what I’m gonna do now!” Mikey exclaimed as he glanced down in to his bowl he was using at the moment.

“I-I’m sorry Mikey.....I didn’t mean to scare you.....I’ll just go” Leo replied, his head hanging even lower then before. Now two of his brother’s hate him at the moment instead of one. What was up with him today? Why were they so easily annoyed and aggravated with him....He was getting in to his own head again like he always does. No reassurance to get him through this bad time. The turtle in blue just wanted to cry, he wanted to go to his brothers and just ask them why he was annoying them. Leo ran his hand down the back of his head and neck as he walked in to his room. Grabbing his sword placed on nails on his wall up above his bed. The comedic turtle carefully walked out of his room, his eyes darted toward the living room where his father sat. A small smile formed on his face as he walked closer. Noticing he was falling asleep in the chair in front of the TV. Leo bit his bottom lip slightly, not knowing if he should wake him up or not. The look on his father’s face meant he was falling asleep, but he wanted to tell him where he was going before heading out in to the world alone.

“dad......dad I-I’m-”

“Blue! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch my shows! Goodness you know it is on a marathon tonight. I have no time for your silly games, go bother your brothers right now.” Splinter somewhat yelled in an annoyed tone of voice as he fixed his sitting position on his chair. Having the cousins squeak loudly from the shift of weight. Leo glanced away from him, not even remembering that it was the marathon of his favorite show this afternoon. To be honest he didn’t really pay attention to him saying that earlier because of his selective hearing he had.

“Sorry dad......I’m just gonna head out” Leo replied as he walked away from him, even more depressed then ever. His whole family hated him, he didn’t even want to try with Raphael at this point. He scared him the most when he was angry because he normally isn’t at all. The blue masked turtle’s head hung low as he made his way over to the entrance of the lair. Glancing back in to it like he was waiting for one of his brothers to come and tell him not to leave. What was he thinking, they didn’t want him around at the moment anyway. Why would they stop him now?

--------------------------------   

The blue masked turtle rubbed his eyes slightly, forgetting to blink as he stared off in to space while he sat there in silence. He lifted his legs up from the side of the building. Dusting his back of dust as he stood up from the roof. His mind was wondering in many places, the bad overruling the good at the moment more then anything. He hasn’t even gotten a call from his brother’s back at home to ask where he was. His eyes looked down in sadness at the cars slowly driving by. 

“Well what do we have here, the turtle in blue all by himself up on the roof top....what A pleasant surprise” Leo turned around quickly and found the two villains with the foot like symbol on theirs heads. Standing there behind him with what seemed to be a brief case in the taller ones hands. Leo smirked, hiding away his emotions as he grabbed his sword with a snarky grin.

“Well well well looks like we meet again then you crooks, what have you stolen now.....let me guess some fancy colored paper for your minions that we fought and beat easily might I add not just because of my ego?” 

“No! Why would we.....oh your the sarcastic one aren’t you....gotta be honest all I remember about you is that and your portals you create....other then that not really anything”

“Oh I can so promise you there is a lot more to me then you know about besides my dashing good looks and my charm”

“Come on we don’t have time for this, we need to get going”

“What you don’t have time for little old me? What’s wrong you afraid of Leon?” Leo asked with a sly smirk as he gazed at them standing there. The villains glanced over at each other, smiling devilishly as the smaller one brought out. Several pieces of paper. Making more minions as their escape route, they seemed to be bigger then before. Some had better weapons then others. Leo gazed over all of them, making it seem like he was confident in himself to take them all on but truth be told he wasn’t. Leonardo got his stance ready and launched himself forward. Cutting two of the closest ones in half with some ease as he tried to follow the two villains from earlier. They were quick as they ran on top of the roof tops together. One carried their stolen item the other created more minions for Leo to defeat on the way. 

“You guys are really slacking, I just cut through like 6 of hem with ease. Come on, you would think fancy colored paper would do the trick this time” Leo called out to them as they ran, realizing that they were only ignoring him as he talked. The blue masked turtle sliced his way through the crowd, it seemed as he got closer the villains made even better minions as they traveled. Leonardo hated to admit it but he was getting really tired at this point. He tried his best to follow behind them but his stamina was running low.

“I guess you could say I’m giving them a paper cut huh? Come on and fight me already instead of putting your minions in the way. What ever you got in the brief case shouldn’t be that important. It’s just me, shouldn’t this be a treat to you guys?” Leo asked as he dodged another hit coming at his head swiftly. The comedic turtle formed a portal quickly and on to another building across the street where he saw them go. As he turned the next corner his body was slammed against a big hammer one of the minions was wielding. His body smacked against the closest wall with a loud thud. The air being knocked out out his lungs tremendously as he struggled to breath while laying there. Leo clutched his shell in pain as he sat up from the ground. He reached out and grabbed his sword from the ground next to him. Getting hit once more by another minion to his side, he didn’t know what to do. His mind was racing yet there was no plan of escape. He needed to act fast now, with the villains gone out of his sight and range. He needed to find a way to either defeat all of the minions and get back to them or portal himself out of there and fast. He just wasn’t sure what to do and that was the main problem. 

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

“Are you sure he didn’t tell you where he was going Donnie?”

“No he didn’t, I made him leave the lab because he was distracting me with my work” Donnie replied as he flipped his googles down to see if he could trace the energy of his brother’s sword. Raph sighed as he glanced over to Mikey, he seemed tense as he stood there. Almost like he was hiding something as he stood. Raph’s brow knitted together as he took a few steps closer to Mikey as he stood by the edge of the building. Getting his brother’s attention almost immediately.

“Mikey......did Leo tell you where he went?”

“N-no-”

“Mikey?”

“I yelled at him too okay, he scared me and I didn’t mean to....he left looking really sad and then I heard dad yell at him before he left in the other room....I really didn’t mean to yell at him he just scared him a lot and that was my reaction!” Mikey replied, letting everything out as he stood there with and upset look on his face. They all knew Leo’s issue with negative and overthinking, he never told anyone about it but they all knew he had that problem.He felt as though he could be annoying and a burden to them. Like he was useless and that his family hated him for some of the things he has done. Even through they reassurance he still has trouble coming to realize that they could never hate them. Donnie looked back at them in realization, knowing why he had left with out telling any of them now. Guilt was setting in on all of them now as they thought about their brother’s emotions and what would go through his mind at the moment. Raph stepped forward and hugged Mikey tightly. His eyes wondered around for any signs his brother could have left. He knew they didn’t mean to yell at him, but how was he gong to convince him about it when they see him next.

“Have you tried calling April, maybe she has seen him lately?” Raph suggested, watching his smarter brother nod his head as he grabbed his phone. Her number was soon dialed but no one answered after the rings had stopped and the voice said to leave a message. Making them all panic since April always answered her phone no matter what. Donnie soon tried again, his face of confusion said it all as he clicked her contact once more. Getting the same result soon afterward.

“We’re heading over to April’s then, it’s settled right now she never does this” Donnie replied as he stood up from his crouching position and jumped to the next roof top. Having his brother’s follow quickly behind. Their anxiety was through the roof as they traveled closely together. First their brother wasn’t answering and now their best friend wasn’t either. What was going on with the two of them, more importantly was something very wrong. They needed to think positively about this, maybe she just couldn’t reach the phone at the moment and they could try again soon enough.The trio of turtles traveled quickly through the night, coming closer and closer to April’s apartment building across the street. Mikey went first and landed on the ladder outside, hearing voices coming from inside. He waved his brothers over, having them be quiet as he slowly opened the window so they could hear better. As the sat they finally found April coming in to frame and their brother slowly limped behind her to the kitchen chair pulled out. He seemed bruised and cut but alright for now.

“Leo how did you even manage this and what’s inside the briefcase?” April asked as she brought out cleaning supplies and started to clean the cuts along his legs and arms. Hearing him wince as the alcohol touched with open cuts.

“Well.....I ran in to those guys with the *wince* foot symbols again and they carried this along with them.....I followed them and got beat up by their minions. But they weren’t the normal ones, they were like upgraded versions. So naturally I *wince* fought back against them. Just as I thought I wasn’t going to make it and stop them. I managed to- Ow hey be careful”

“Sorry Leo, you know I’m not good with this kind of thing”

“It’s fine....anyway where was I- Oh yeah....I managed to portal away just in time and actually portaled right where they ended up. I took the brief case and portaled my way out of there before they could do anything about it as easy as that.” Leo replied with a large grin on his face as April wrapped his arm slowly so she wouldn’t hurt him any more. April smiled back at him as she watched him fiddle with the case. Soon stopping as his expression faded and went blank. He slowly sat it on to the ground beside them both and glanced back at her cleaning the gash on his leg.

“You mind telling me why your brother’s weren’t with you fighting?” April asked as she looked up at him. Placing a butterfly bandage on his temple where a small cut lied. His gaze fell in to a quite depressed looking one, telling April all she needed to know. She knew about his anxiety and constant over thinking. He covered it up well she had to give him that, but nothing could get past her when it came to her best friends. Already getting an idea in to her head of what had happened.

“I left....I could tell I was being a burden so I figured I would just leave before I made things worse....I didn’t look for a fight the trouble just found me up here.....I came to you because you were the closest when it came to help and well I didn’t want to bother my brother’s and their work....but I’m okay, at least it wasn’t that bad injuries to be fair.” Leo replied with a small sad smile on his face to try and cover his real emotions. April leaned forward and hugged him tightly, trying not to hurt him even more since she noticed the bruising near his shell and the small crack on the right side of his plastron. Leo was in shock for a second, but he soon wrapped his arms as best he could around her with a small chuckle.

“I told you I’m fine-”

“Leo! I’m so sorry....I’m so sorry for yelling at you honest” Mikey broke the silence as he entered the apartment. Joining in on the hug they were having. Leo stared at him in confusion and found his brothers coming in as well from the same window. he laughed softly as April let go and had Mikey hug him tighter. He let out a groan of pain, signaling for Mikey to get off of him. his hand quickly went to the small crack in his shell. Shrugging slightly as he glanced down at it.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We were searching for you.....when April wasn’t answering we figured something had happened to the both of you and came here to check out the place.....Are you okay Leo, where did you get hurt?” Raph asked, being over protective and caring as always. But as he was about ready to help Leo up his brother stood up himself with a small bit of pain in his eyes.

“I’m fine, April patched me up pretty good.....just gonna have bruising the next few days” Leo replied as he picked up the brief case and limped over to his brother standing there silently. The guilt in his eyes never faded as he glanced away to try and hide his fear. Leo smiled softly as he placed his bandages hand on his brother’s shoulder. Grabbing his attention and handed him the brief case he had took from the bad guys.

“Well since you guys were eavesdropping and doing it really badly might I add. Have a look at what those guys were stealing will ya....and probably away from April’s place just in case it’s something really bad in it like a bomb” Leo replied as he started to make his way to the window. He turned his head back as he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. As he looked back he was brought in to another hug. This one was less tight then Mikey’s but Leo could tell how worried Raph was and how much he cared for him at the moment. Leo smiled as he wrapped his arms around his brother, resting his head up against his chest. He felt his other brother’s arms wrap around him soon after like he had done before. Leo’s eyes darted over to Donnie, standing there like he wasn’t aloud to hug him at the moment. But as soon as he seen Leo’s smile he had he knew he was always welcomed. Wrapping his arms around him as well as tight as he could almost.

“Sorry I left guys....I didn’t know I would worry you this much jeez”

“No don’t be sorry....I shouldn’t have yelled at you for scaring be on accident”

“I shouldn’t have been so stern with you when I told you to leave......I-I’m s-so-” 

“Save it Donnie.....I forgive you guys” Leo replied as they stayed in the group hug for another minute or so.

“But from now on at least leave a note before taking off like that okay, you scared the ever loving crap out of me!” Raph said as he picked his brother up with ease. Making him chuckle as he held him like a rag doll up in the air.

“I won’t I won’t okay scout’s honor, you want a pinky promise I’ll give you a pinky promise Raph”

“Yes I would like a pinky promise thank you very much”

“Fine pinky promise.....now could we head home....I’m kinda hungry after running around all night after those goons”

“Yes of course, I’ll make dinner as soon as we get back I promise”

“Sounds like a plan bro’s”

#tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt raph #tmnt Donnie #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #rottmnt #rottmnt fandom #tmnt fandom #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fan #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

[jadethest0ne]

When the Moon meets the Morning, Chapter 4 - Tales and Titles

Summary:  Raphael is going on missions with Captain Jupiter as he always does when he meets an orange-wearing turtle yokai who feels oddly familiar.

Word Count: 2390

Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences; some minor harrowing moments, but mostly fluff, emotional overload, emotional manipulation, self-deprecation

Notes: Finally getting some backstory in this chapter. I thought I should do more “show don’t tell”, but Mikey is the kind of person to just talk about his feelings. Raph still needs a bit of help in that regard. Big thanks to @undercoverwizardninjaturtle, @fraymotiif, and @frasierverse for helping me workshop this.

Read on AO3 For the RotTMNT Fantasy AU

———-

Woken up from his slumber, Raph hears a creak in the room that they've been given to rest in. It's an old tavern in the mountains, so creaks are natural, but his hunter senses allow him to differentiate the wind-rocking kind of creaks from the ones caused by someone’s movements - they’ve got a certain vibration to it. He lifts open a bleary eyelid just in time to see a green head duck out of the room and into the hallway. Raph waits a few beats before following.

A peek around the corner of the tavern building and he can see Mikey finishing up putting a saddle on Infinity and riding away with her. Raph quickly saddles up Buddy, apologizing for waking him up, and then chases after Mikey. He doesn't have to go too far though as he quickly spots Mikey perched on a rock overlooking the snow covered peaks of the mountains beyond. Infinity is plucking at a patch of somewhat still green grass below between patches of dusted on snow, and Raph leaves Buddy there with her. Infinity makes a friendly chirrup at the aurax and playfully nips at his shaggy hair. Buddy seems to not mind this and takes a few bites of grass himself. If Mikey has heard them at this point he doesn't acknowledge it. Raph climbs up to the rock Mikey is sitting on.

"Do you ever feel lonely, even with other people around?" Mikey asks. The tone is so unlike him. It's so lacking in any of the energy he has displayed since Raph met him. It is somber. Tired. And it fills Raph with sadness and worry for his friend. Raph knows better than to comment on that though.

He sits down next to Mikey and responds cautiously. "I'm... not sure I understand the question, Mike... Can you be alone while around other people?"

"Not alone. Lonely. Like, even if there are people around you, do you ever feel not with them?" He looks at Raph this time. His normally vibrant red-orange eyes look dull, and his brows are upturned in a sad but questioning position.

Raph looks down and tries to seriously consider the question. He doesn't want to potentially make Mikey feel worse by immediately dismissing it. Raph thinks about some of the missions he's been on with Captain Jupiter. Yeah, he's working for the Captain, but sometimes it doesn't feel like he's working with him. So Raph hums and nods. "Yeah, I think I get what you mean."

Mikey looks back up to the sky and explains, "I decided to be a messenger because I wanted to meet other people and make friends, but I'm not sure if it's working all the time. I try to make people happy, but sometimes it's... tiring keeping up with all that. People have so many more emotions than I thought... And sometimes... sometimes I don't know if it's my own feelings or theirs that I'm feeling. It's hard to find myself in all that... noise."

Raph blinks as he realizes something. "You're an empath!"

Mikey chuckles weakly and scratches at his chin while looking away. "Ah, did I not mention that? Sometimes I forget that people don't know."

Raph blinks again. "Is that why you came out here alone? To get away from all that?" he asks. Then he feels a sudden twinge of guilt. "Oh should- should I not be here? I can go, I'll go uh..." He stammers as he tries to get up but Mikey grabs hold of his cape. He holds on with both hands and squeezes it close, like a child with a safety blanket.

"No, no, you can stay. I mean I do usually like camping at night and not staying in towns cuz I learned that that's normally the best way to, er, clear my head? My heart? Uh, you get it." Raph looks away, then back at Mikey, unsure. "Really, Raph, it's okay. Please stay." He pulls Raph's cape tighter ever so slightly.

"O-okay..." Raph sits back down. He feels like he should move the conversation beyond the awkwardness. "So uh, you wanted to meet new people? Are there not a lot of folks where you're from?"

Mikey laughs a bit more genuinely this time. "Practically no one! There's mostly just animals in the Enchanted Forest! Me ‘n Todd would help out any animals that needed to be cared for and we made sure everyone was safe and happy."

That answered a few of Raph's questions. "Is Todd like your dad or something?"

Mikey shakes his head and huffs out a less genuine laugh. "No, he's a friend." His face lights up a bit then. "But he did raise me. He really is the nicest guy!"

"Huh, that's kinda weird that he raised you and is so nice, but he's not your dad."

"Well, is James Jupiter your dad?"

Raph freezes for a moment, before letting out a laugh that sounds more genuine than it is. Raph is vaguely aware now that Mikey can probably sense that. "I guess not. Even though he kind of raised me, too. Him and Red Fox." Raph's warm smile matches his emotions this time at the thought of the red panda yokai who's always been there as a kind of a big sis to him. Mikey smiles with him.

"Red Fox is really cool," Mikey says.

"Yeah, she is."

Mikey then looks at Raph curiously as if he wants to say something. Raph decides to be patient and wait for him to do so.

"Do you... mind it when I talk about you or him?" He squints his eyes as if trying to figure out the answer by just asking the question.

"I..." Raph isn't sure how to respond. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when I talked about you and Captain Jupiter before, it was... Weird... I guess? Like it was like you were happy and not happy at the same time. Should I stop? Like with the story in the tavern?" Mikey starts to fidget with his hands. "Cuz I thought you were really cool and I really did want to talk about you. But you seemed to feel sad about the situation, so I thought maybe telling the story and getting people to recognize you more would make you happier and--"

"Stop." Raph holds up a hand in front of Mikey's face, causing Mikey to clamp his mouth shut in a somewhat puckered position. Wide and confused eyes look up at the snapper.

Raph sighs. "First of all, it ain't your job to make me, or anyone happier, especially if it's making you feel like... This whole situation." He gestures at Mikey and the area around them. Mikey blinks like he's processing the information. Raph waits until Mikey looks back up at him again before he continues. "Second of all... Yeah, I think you're right... My feelings about the missions I'm on are... Complicated..." This time Mikey raises his brow in curiosity. "...But maybe that's my own problem to deal with... And I... actually think you telling the story is helping," he finishes, feeling like he's admitting a big secret, but he doesn't know what. Raph takes a breath. "And if you want, BUT ONLY if you want," he makes sure to grab Mikey's attention and emphasize that last point, "you can keep telling it."

After a second, a huge smile covers Mikey's face and he flaps his hands excitedly. "Really! Cuz it's a fun story! And Red Fox is there, too, and I helped and it'd be a real shame to let that kind of storytelling potential go to waste."

Raph can't help but smile. It's good to see Mikey brighten up again. Then Raph remembers something. "Oh by the way, I was thinking, you could use a hero name for that story…”

A creative spark appears in Mikey's eyes. "Oh? Well I'd be happy to workshop a name with you."

At this, Raph is the one to vibrate eagerly. "Actually, I've got a list of names I've been working on. I've been going with 'Red Angel of Preventing Harm' for a few missions now, but that doesn't seem to be sticking so..."

As the night wears on, Raph excitedly exchanges ideas and stories with his new friend before eventually ushering them both back to the tavern to get some rest before they have to continue their trek the next day.

---

"So we have 'Red Angel of Preventing Harm', 'Red Agent of Purity and Heroics', 'Reptile Against People-Hatred', 'Rad Amphibian Protecting Humanity,'" Mikey rattles off the list of names that he and Raph had come up with last night as the group of yokai continue their trek through the mountains. It's getting chillier as they go, and having a distraction is helpful for combating the cold.

"Turtles are reptiles, dear, not amphibians," Red Fox corrects them.

"I told you that you weren't an amphibian!" Mikey shoots at Raph with a know-it-all grin.

"Aw man, I thought that was a cool one!" Raph pouts.

"Maybe next time you'll listen to the animal expert!" Mikey brags, putting on a mock wounded expression and raising his bottom lip in an airy pout.

Raph chuckles and plays along. "How could I have not listened to you, oh wise turtle-who-is-not-an-amphibian?!”

The two break out into laughter, lightheartedly shoving each other with no real force; Raph in particular taking extra care to hold back in his pushes.

"But really boys, I told you before, that a hero name should be shorter, catchier, more memorable."

"I still think your name should have something to do with your cool eyes when you use your power!"

"You saw his moon eyes!" Red Fox looks at Mikey in surprise, then to Raph in concern. "You must have been really taxing your powers in that fire! You should have told me!"

Raph absently chews on his mask tails and says, "It wasn't so bad, and only at the end." He changes the topic back to Mikey's. "Mikey thought that 'Blood Moon Hunter' would be a cool name.”

“Isn’t ‘Blood Moon Hunter’ too long as well?” Red Fox says.

“Yeah, and I guess, I thought it was kinda too dark,” Raph says.

"Hmm, maybe Moon Hunter? Or Red Moon?" Mikey offers.

"Red is my favorite color," Raph says nodding in approval.

"Ooh! Or what about 'Nightwatcher?' Sounds like a good vigilante name to me!" Mikey says excitedly.

"It still doesn't sound like me though..." Raph says.

"What if you shorten the name you've been using? Instead of the full thing, why not "Red Angel'" Red Fox suggests.

Raph smiles at her. "That could work!"

Red Fox then moves over to Raph, lifting herself up by her tail so she's equal height with Raph and pinches his cheek with a teasing expression. "After all, you are quite the angel, my little Raphie!"

Raph brushes her hand away and groans, but with a smile playing on his lips. "Stop that!!!" Then he takes a heroic pose with his hands on his hips and states, "Besides, I AM a hero and I'll look after people like a guardian angel!"

Mikey claps happily and Red Fox joins him.

Raph's confident stance falters a bit as he scratches the back of his head and blushes. "Heh heh, thanks guys. This was fun."

Mikey then thinks for a second and turns to Raph. "Hey, can I still use the name "Blood Moon Hunter" for something else? There's someone else I know a lot of stories about, but he doesn't really have a name and I think that one still fits."

Raph shrugs and says, "Yeah, why not?"

---

For the next few stops that the trio made, Mikey would tell many different stories from his travels. The dude had loads! Both ones that he experienced and ones that others experienced. Raph thinks some of the stories Mikey heard secondhand were lies or at the very least included heavy exaggerations, but he never seemed to notice or act like it, and Raph didn't want to ruin his, or his listeners' fun. But Mikey always managed to bring up that one mission that Raph did and went with 'Red Angel' like discussed.

Then there were some stories that Mikey talked about that really seemed like tall tales. These were the ones that Mikey used the name "Blood Moon Hunter" for. They were always about a protective heroic figure coming to save him and other people when they needed him most. But it involved some really wild magic, like transfigurations and dimension warping; stuff that seemed to bend reality. Dreamlike. They felt strangely familiar to Raph, however. Maybe they were some folktales or stories he'd heard as a kid. They often played out like that, involving lots of symbolism and stuff. Despite how odd they were, Raph liked these ones the best. They felt familiar, like a bedtime story. And he could envision them really easily, almost as if he had been there. Raph might not have chosen the name for himself, but the Blood Moon Hunter stories that Mikey told were some of his best.

"Dude, you should write some of these stories in books or something! I'm sure folks would love to read them!" Raph says as they are nearing their final stop. The trek was a loop around the mountains, and they were setting up tents a few hours away from the last town. They could drop off their deliveries in the morning and get back to Bedu the day after.

Mikey blushes a bit and looks away shyly. "Aw I don't know. One of the great things about telling stories is specifically who I'm telling them to." Mikey looks up at Raph pointedly and there's almost an air of wistfulness that he catches in the smaller turtle's eyes.

Raph brushes off the feeling that Mikey seems to be trying to tell him something and replies, “Well, if you made books, then you could tell your stories to the entire Kingdom!”

Mikey hums a bit in response, but Raph isn’t sure if it’s a hum of affirmation or not. Mikey is a lot quieter for the rest of the evening. He perks up while cooking though, and rattles off a few more tales for his two companions, but goes to bed earlier than usual.

<–previous   ///   next–>

#rottmnt #rottmnt fantasy au #rottmntfantasyau #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #raphael #michelangelo #red fox #jadethest0ne #fanfic #my writing #when the moon meets the morning

[singthebodyelectric-tmnt]

I Sing the Body Electric 2

Don

Don slowly sipped his coffee as he watched Leon now openly arguing with air. He’s assuming he is having a tiff with the brothers of his own guests. He glanced at Raphie who was listening to both Leon’s passive-aggressive ranting and Michael excitedly describing his “guests”. Raphie’s brows furrowed in confusion but he doesn’t stop them.

Eh. The big guy can handle it. He then glanced at his own guests; one smaller with olive green skin, one almost as tall as him and had eerie red eyes.

The smaller one was sitting calmly next to him, amused at all the commotion at the table. The other one was chewing on his thumb nervously with his teeth, and glancing at his brothers. (And not gonna lie, his gap tooth is cute. Too bad this Donnie is way too jumpy. Maybe neurotic but Don didn’t want to be an ass and self-diagnose).

“Is it always like this at breakfast?” the older one asked. He was reading a book. An actual physical book. Weird choice but who was he to question the recreational activities of his counterparts? He preferred podcasts, audiobooks, and the theatre. It gave his hands much more freedom to work on his projects. “More or less, yeah,” he took a sip of his coffee. The Donnie with the gap tooth sat next to him, and kept looking nervously at Raphie. Don frowned. Was this Donnie afraid of Raph? “You guys are different species of turtles, right? Your Raphael said he was the eldest as well, so I’m assuming you’re all different ages,” mused Donatello. Don liked this one. He was quite polite for an adult. Not many adults get his respect. “Yeah. Raphie’s fifteen, Me and Leon are fourteen, and Michael’s thirteen”.

The two Donatello's reactions were...interesting to say the least. Donnie’s red eyes widened in horror. A flash of grief crossed Donatello’s face before he took a deep breath and settled on a pained smile. “That’s...that’s really interesting”. Before Don could ask, Leon suddenly stood up. His fists were clenched and teeth were bared like he was furious. Then he tried taking a swing at himself. “Tried” because Raphie was able to stop him in time. Raphie began to mumble soothing words to Leon to get him to calm down. Michael looked terrified. “What’s going on?,” Don said through gritted teeth. He reached out and rubbed his little brother’s back to soothe him. “If you harm the person visiting you, you get harmed as well,” explained Donatello. He snapped his book closed with a sigh. The other Donnie said nervously, “It’s...It’s probably my brother. I mean... Leo...I mean my Leo...sorry”. He chewed on his thumb in worry, staring as Raphie kept talking quietly to Leon. Donatello shook his head, “No...I think it’s mine. He doesn’t know how to handle teenagers well...oh Donnie, you’re bleeding”. Don snapped his attention away from his brothers to stare at his counterparts. Donnie had chewed on his thumb so hard it broke through skin. Donatello gathered cloth and wrapped Donnie’s thumb to put pressure on it, even if his own thumb was bleeding.

Don looked at his hand and there was a thin line of blood that slowly dripped on to his hand. He tsked and grabbed tissue to stave it. “I’m so sorry-” began Donnie. “Hush, it’s fine,” interrupted Donatello. Don opted to not comment on it. Instead he asked, “You both said this isn’t the first time you’ve met other versions of us. Did this whole...situation where I only get to see you happen?” Donatello shook his head, “As far as I know, no. We met our other counterparts physically. This whole astral projection thing is new. The only reason I know about the host-visitor thing is because little Michael over there and Donnie's brother accidentally hit mine while playing yesterday. They all have bruises in the same place”.

Donnie muttered, “See, that doesn’t make sense! Astral projection has no scientific basis. There must be an actual explanation for this”. He began to pick at his arm scales. Don snorted, the others looked at him. “Sorry. It’s…that would be true, except in this dimension astral projection is plausible,” he inhaled in annoyance. “Magic exists here”. Donnie looked like he ate something really sour. Donatello on the other hand looked up thoughtfully. “Magic exists in my dimension as well...so it isn’t far-fetched”. He gently put a hand over Donnie’s who had unwittingly begun to pull at his scales. “If that’s the case, I can believe that would be one of the reasons we connected, Don. I can’t say for sure how Donnie here and the other Donatellos connected to us”. Don hummed. He stood and put his empty plate in the sink. It was Leo’s turn to do the dishes but he decided to help with the burden by preemptively washing the plates … “Would it help the situation if we met face to face? All of us- I mean not all the iterations of us, just our three dimensions” Donatello smiled while Donnie tilted his head. “Maybe it would...are you suggesting building a portal to each other’s dimensions?” Don leaned on the sink. “I insist on it. We each work on a portal on our end then connect it. It should be easy if we work together”. Donnie furrowed his brows while Donatello tapped his book’s spine to his chin. “It’s doable. I can ask Professor Honeycutt and Leatherhead to help me on my end and I already have a fusion generator”. Donnie blinked, “You have a Professor Honeycutt and a Leatherhead too? Um...sure. I’ll have trouble on my end, I’ll probably need Krang tech for this though…” Don nodded, “I don’t know who those are but we have Draxum”. He then turned to his youngest brother, “Michael, can you ask Draxum to visit? I’ll need help in a project and maybe he’ll have answers to our predicament”. Michael brightened the instant he heard Draxum’s name. “Sure!” he chirped. Michael tilted his head to the side and then said out loud, “Baron Draxum’s our creator and our other dad!” There must have been some kind of loud reaction on the other end because Raphie winced and Leon rolled his eyes. Raphie said out loud, “I’ll explain later…” while Leon crossed his arms. It looks like he still doesn’t want to get along with his own guests. Donatello and Donnie looked at Don incredulously. Don shrugged, “He mutated Dad too. Michael’s the only one who calls him “Dad”, don’t worry”. Donnie looked away while Donatello huffed, “That’s...a can of worms we won’t get into now. But I’ll take any answers I can get”. He eyed Leon, “And I’ll talk to my Leo, don’t worry about that”. “Thank you,” Don said, honestly grateful. This Donatello was just as gentle as Raphie, and Don knew it wasn’t a front with how he handled Donnie’s self-harm. He wondered what damaged him to make him this way. Don eyed Donnie. So different from Don and Donatello; skittish, and nervous and is on the verge of lashing out at everything. He wondered what this one had gone through too. Don patted Raphie’s arm. “The other Donnies and I will be in the lab. Call us when Draxum gets here” <--Previous         -o-        Next-->

#tmnt fanfiction #tmnt donatello #rottmnt #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt soul au #tw self harm #mama donny and his kids #chapters

[quicksilversquared]

The Substitute Ladybug: Chapter 5

After Lila takes things too far and Marinette ends up with a broken leg, Paris is going to have to deal with a different superhero arrangement for a bit. Having to share her superhero identity with her parents before Hawkmoth can be defeated isn’t something that Marinette had planned on doing, but- well, it might end up being a bit of a blessing in disguise.

links in the reblog

"Why do you always put Sass away when you get Tikki back for the evening?" Mrs. Cheng asked curiously one evening as she and Marinette worked together to make dinner. "Surely it wouldn't be that hard to have both of them out, would it? They seem to get along just fine."

"Wearing more than one Miraculous tends to drain the energy out of whoever is wearing them," Marinette told her mom. It was still weird to be openly talking about the Miraculous like this, even two weeks after her leg broke, but Marinette was slowly getting used to it. Besides, despite how strange it felt, it was nice to be able to talk with someone besides Tikki about the Miraculous again. "I've done it before, of course. For only a couple hours is fine, but I don't want to risk slowing down how fast my leg heals at all."

Mrs. Cheng's eyes grew wide, and she stopped chopping up vegetables for their dinner, slowly setting the knife aside. "Oh, my. Yes, I can see where you maybe wouldn't mess with that."

"Marinette has worn over a dozen Miraculous at once before," Tikki said proudly, settling down on Marinette's shoulder next to Sass. "And handled it throughout an entire akuma fight! Most people would collapse and lose consciousness at once."

"Most people would collapse with far fewer Miraculous," Sass agreed. "It was really impressive!"

"That sounds dangerous," Mrs. Cheng fretted. "Who knows what that could do to your health in the long-term?"

Tikki giggled. "As long as our holders aren't multi-wielding long-term, it's fine! We give our holders enhanced healing abilities, since it's never good for them to be out of commission for long. So maybe people are tired in the short term, but they start healing as soon as they go back down to one Miraculous."

"And if they take on too many Miraculous and pass out?" Mrs. Cheng worried, glancing at Marinette. "And can't take the Miraculous off? Could the kwamis-?"

Sass shook his head. "No, not unless they had given us express permission before collapsing."

Mrs. Cheng looked even more worried. "Have- have people died from that before?"

"I was careful, mom!" Marinette protested, knowing what her mom was so worried about. After all, Master Fu had been concerned as well, and had insisted on checking in with her every day for a solid two weeks after the Kwami Buster fight. "Splitting myself with the Mouse Miraculous made the effects a lot more spread-out and easier to bear. And Master Fu was there when I put them on, he could have pulled off some Miraculous if I couldn't take it!"

"It's a sign of a strong spirit," Tikki said proudly. "I'm very proud of her."

"We are, too," Mr. Dupain boomed cheerfully, bursting into the room with a basket of leftover loaves of bread. "What exactly are we discussing here? Marinette, of course, but specifically?"

Marinette tried not to sigh as her mom and the kwamis filled her dad in. Her parents had always been proud of her, but now that they knew about her double life as Ladybug- well, they were impossibly more proud not and they weren't at all hesitant about showing it. That she was able to juggle even more than they had originally thought and still be managing as well as she had- well, they had been impressed.

"Papa, what's the bread for?" Marinette asked as soon as they had finished talking, eyeing the basket. It wasn't unusual for her dad to bring up a single loaf or a few buns for them to have with their dinner, but this was more than their usual amount unless they had company. "Are there people coming over?"

"No- oh, I forgot to tell you, dear, I'll be going out on a bit of a patrol with your partner this evening. Not late, since I need to stay on a baker's schedule, but if Hawkmoth is going to scale back to only harder attacks, I need to get in more practice." Her mom smiled. "And Chat Noir loves it when I bring snacks, of course. He's a growing boy who's getting plenty of exercise. Did you know, the last time I brought treats, he managed to identify what bakery I had gotten things from just by taste? I had made sure that I didn't bring anything that had our logo on it, but apparently he's familiar enough with the bakery that he can pick out our products just by tasting them!"

Marinette blanched. "Maman, what about secret identities?"

"I didn't say that we had made them, just that I brought treats and then he guessed where they were from. I'm being careful with secret identity stiff, dear. It's really more your partner who isn't, but- well, I won't share too much of what he's said." Her smile turned sad. "Not all of it would be mine to share, either."

Marinette blinked, considering that, then decided to push it out of her mind for now. She had known for a while that Chat Noir didn't have a great home life- he had never said anything specific, but there had been a good number of hints and offhand comments- but she didn't want to pry.

"That's very cool that he knew where you had gotten things," Tom said, nodding in approval. "A lot of people go 'oh, if it's just bread, there's no difference'-" he made a face "-but he must be one of those people who slows down and properly enjoys his food enough to pick up on what makes us different." He shot a sly look towards Marinette. "I don't suppose you've changed your stance on making Chat Noir our future son-in-law? Absence is meant to make the heart grow fonder, after all!"

Marinette promptly turned bright red. "Papa!"

"To be fair, Adrien also seems to really enjoy what we make in the bakery," Mrs. Cheng chimed in, only making Marinette's blush grow worse. "And what we cook at home, too."

"Ah, yes! That's a fair point." Her dad tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should expand the range of things that you bring with you to share with Chat Noir. I know he liked the things we made for brunch, but he didn't gush like Adrien sometimes does."

Mrs. Cheng huffed. "Oh, the boy was just nervous and put on the spot! It's not fair to compare them, really, is it, Marinette?"

Marinette could only bury her face in her hands and groan, already looking forward to dinner being over and being able to escape this whole conversation by hiding in her room.

It was weird enough for her parents to know about her double life. For them to apparently be so shipping her- Ladybug-her- with Chat Noir...

Seriously, when had her life gotten so strange?

  Two and a half weeks into her superhero sidelining, Hawkmoth appeared alongside Mayura and both a sentimonster and an akuma. Marinette considered that, considered the odds, and then took the temporary chair lift they had installed- a rented one, courtesy of Lila's bank account- down to the bakery to fetch her dad. It was nearing the end of the day, so it wouldn't be hard for one of the back bakery workers to cover the counter for ten minutes- five for the superheroes to move on-site, five for the actual fight- and then Marinette could take over until her parents returned.

A Turtle Tom would be-well, no one in their right mind would want to cross him.

"I'm sending the Bee, too," Marinette told her dad, pressing a second box into his hands. "Chat Noir has done fusions before, he can handle it. Then you guys can take one fighter out in one shot and have it be three against three instead of three against four."

"And you don't just want a fourth fighter out there?" her dad asked. Marinette shook her head.

"It's too many people to keep track of. That, and- well, Queen Bee was Chloe, and she never should have been a Miraculous holder in the first place. I just went back to her because she had experience." She made a face. "But with the hissy fit she threw when Chat Noir and I told her no more- when she joined Hawkmoth for the day without being akumatized first- she ended up revealing almost all of our teammates' identities. So we're definitely not going back to her. And I don't want to have two completely new people out there at once."

"Solid logic," Mr. Dupain said cheerfully. "All right, I'll deliver the Bee to Chat. I'll see you- no, sorry, hear you out there?"

"Of course, papa!"

Marinette watched him leave- he was going to find an alleyway to transform in, since he would be a bit too noticeable leaving the bakery already transformed- then took the chair lift back up to her temporary room to transform, taking several deep breaths to steady herself as she did.

This was going to be the biggest fight that she had guided as Vipera. There were going to be a lot of moving parts to remember and keep track of, and that was pretty intimidating. The akuma and sentimonster were the biggest priorities- she knew from experience that once those were defeated, the supervillains tended to flee pretty fast- but she had to make sure that whoever was fighting Hawkmoth and Mayura stayed safe, too.

As soon as Vipera pulled out her lute to get set up, she could see her three teammates were out. Her dad was still moving, racing to catch up with Coccinelle and Chat Noir, who were clearly waiting for instruction. Vipera hastily pulled up her video feeds, doing her best to catch up on the situation as fast as she could. Soon enough, the news would break that the superheroes had been seen out and about and where they had last been spotted, and they would lose part of the element of surprise.

"Ah, nice choice on the Bee," Chat Noir said cheerfully as soon as Tanker arrived and handed over the box. There was a crackle of static as he transformed. "A very a-bee-ling choice."

Vipera groaned. "No."

"And I look un-bee-lievably handsome," Chat Noir continued, the smug grin clear in his voice. "In fact-"

There was a muddle of muffled words on the other end of the line and then mercifully, the puns stopped.

"Right, so use the Bee right away to take someone out," Chat Noir said after a moment. "Got it, my Lady. Are we ready?"

Vipera took a moment to breathe, falling into her normal state of- well, focus, but also connection with the Snake's powers. "Ready. They're moving south- if you can circle around to the north, you might be able to surprise them. Da- Tanker, maybe hang back a little. You're a little more. Uh. Noticeable."

Tanker laughed. "Okay. If you say so."

Onscreen- thankfully, Sass had been more than fine with accommodating her request for more screens, so that she could have multiple views plus a map of Paris with where her partners were all up at the same time- the akuma and a sentimonster raged on. Hawkmoth and Mayura were staying largely to the side, sometimes not even visible. Clearly they were banking on the superheroes not seeing them- or perhaps they were assuming that Ladybug was out of town and so the superheroes wouldn't have access to the backup Miraculous, so in turn it wouldn't matter if they knew about the supervillains being there. Coccinelle and Chat Noir would have to come out either way, after all.

The supervillains were going to regret that assumption soon enough. After all, the trio out in the field was carrying not one but two extra Miraculous with them in their initial push, something that rarely ever happened. Normally Ladybug ended up retreating to grab an extra Miraculous or two mid-battle, since she and her partner could generally handle the akuma battles themselves.

Hopefully it would give them a serious edge this time. It probably wouldn't be able to happen often, since Marinette was often at school when akumas attacked, but this one time everything just seemed to come together perfectly.

"Getting close," Chat Noir murmured in his earpiece. "And- oh! Sting!"

Vipera bit back her already? when she spotted her partner on-screen He had managed to sneak up on Mayura and, as she watched, slammed his trompo into her back. Mayura froze up with a cut-off squawk. Hawkmoth let out an angry yell, and Chat Noir was forced to dodge away from Mayura as the akuma of the day wildly shot beams of light in his direction. As soon as he had an opening, Hawkmoth dashed over to Mayura and grabbed her up, hauling her stiff body away over the rooftops as the akuma covered his escape.

Vipera blinked. Well. That was one way to kill two birds with one stone. Now they just had to finish up the fight with both the akuma and the sentimonster before Hawkmoth could stash Mayura somewhere out of the way and come back.

"I see the possessed item- it's the belt!" Coccinelle announced, peering over a rooftop. "Vipera, can you activate the timer? I want to know if our weapons and deflect those blasts, and that's the safest way to do it."

"Of course. In five, four, three, two, one- set." Vipera gave a sharp nod to herself as she set time zero. Onscreen, her teammates surged forward, weapons spinning or- in Tanker's case- simply held out in front of him. The akuma fired, and several seconds later, Vipera hastily reset.

"Okay, the weapons do deflect the beams, but then they reflect off wildly," she told them as the surge repeated. "Dodging is better, so you don't accidentally send the beams at each other!"

Chat Noir snorted out a laugh as he dodged straight into a roll. "Let me guess- last time, we did just that?"

"Yeah, two of you were taken out." Vipera winced at the memory. "That wouldn't have gone well- Chat, dodge left!"

With three on-site fighters and only the sentimonster and akuma to deal with, it only took a half-hour's worth of corrections to turn the battle into a four-minute smackdown. Most of those corrections had to do with stray reflected beams- those were just annoying to deal with, she didn't envy the superheroes out there- and because of that, most of her comments had to do with ducking at certain times.

"That was great," Chat Noir said cheerfully, once everything had been set to right with the Cure. "Really good job, my Lady. These fights are going so smoothly- or at least on our end they are. Did that take many tries?"

"Not really," Vipera told him. "Nothing awful, at least, and I really only had hints that were easy to remember this time." It really was sweet of him to worry. Her mom had mentioned more than once before how concerned Chat Noir was about her using Second Chance, and she could understand why. If the full five minutes- or almost full five minutes were reset again and again and again, that could add up to a lot of time, time that only she really remembered.

...somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if it would be considered abuse of the Miraculous if she used the Snake in the morning to snag a few more minutes of sleep after her alarm went off.

(It probably wouldn't work.)

"And really good job with that Sting first thing," Vipera added quickly. "That was smart thinking, taking Mayura out. I thought you would go for the akuma or the sentimonster, honestly, but what you did was much better."

She could imagine the small smile and the slight blush on Chat Noir's face as he murmured, "Thank you, my Lady."

Praise almost always made him strangely bashful, or at least when it was coming from her. It was pretty adorable, actually.

"I don't think I was really needed at all," Tanker commented with a booming laugh. "Better safe than sorry, though, I suppose, and it was an interesting experience to be able to jump from roof to roof. I don't think that I would want to do that on a regular basis, though."

Chat Noir laughed. "I'd say it grows on you, but I actually really enjoyed it from the start, so..."

"I want to be out running on the rooftops," Vipera said grumpily. It was funny, really- when she had very first started being Ladybug, she hadn't wanted anything more than to be back on solid ground as soon as possible, her feet solidly under her and not dressed in magical spandex. Now? "Or running at all. Crutches are getting old really fast."

"I'd offer to carry you on a piggyback loop around town, my Lady, but your parents have already forbidden it," Chat Noir told her. "Something about the jostling probably not being good for your leg?"

Vipera pouted, then sighed. Even with as antsy as she had been feeling, it wasn't worth risking injuring her leg further. Her parents were right. "I'll survive without it." Her Miraculous beeped again, and she added, "I have to go, but good job, everyone."

"And to you, too!" Chat Noir chirped again before her transformation finally gave out. Marinette grinned at Sass, handing him a treat before hauling herself out of bed and reaching for her crutches. She had to get downstairs and cover the counter fast, before her parents' employees started wondering about them.

As she did, though, her mind returned to the problem she had thought of earlier, before the fight really started. Today they had been lucky, and she had been at home to fetch the extra Miraculous. If she had been at school instead...

Well, maybe she could have called her mom up, but that depended on Mrs. Cheng not having left yet. Coccinelle could always turn around and go back to the house, of course, but... well, it was probably better if they minimized the number of times that Coccinelle returned to the bakery while transformed. The risk of someone seeing her...

Maybe that should be a last resort sort of thing.

Marinette frowned in thought. Really, she needed to be able to get to the Miraculous Box quickly, and then get whatever bonus Miraculous they needed to her teammates so that they could either double up or bring the Miraculous to a temporary holder. And that would be impossible-

-except it wasn't. After all, the Horse existed. She would have to charge up between portals, of course, and then her mom could bring the Miraculous back after the fight. All Marinette would have to do would be to always carry the Horse- in a super-safe spot, of course; even if Lila was no longer at the school, she didn't want to risk Chloe or Sabrina digging through her bag, or Alya accidentally stumbling on it- and she would be able to get back to her room right away.

Another bonus: not having to direct a fight from a random closet or study room. It would be much safer and more comfortable to sit at her desk.

It would probably be less risky if she made a secret pocket in her bag, maybe one protected by a small lock. Marinette could make that tomorrow, probably, and have it in place by Monday. Then she would really be ready for anything.

Marinette smiled to herself as she took over the bakery counter, her mind already whirring with ideas of how to install the pocket without it being obvious. She had fabric that would match the lining of her bag, so that was easy enough, but she would have to hide the stitching from the pocket on the outside of somehow. Maybe some applique flowers would be just the thing, a fun little touch to really make the backpack personalized while hiding the seam lines and distracting from any odd shapes in her bag. Add in some embroidered vines that would twist and turn between the flowers, and any odd seam stitches left visible would soon be forgotten. It would all have to be hand-stitched, since her sewing machine was upstairs and it would be difficult to use inside of the backpack anyway, but that was fine. The stitching would be even easier to hide that way.

Hopefully her parents would get back soon. Marinette was already itching to get upstairs and start sewing.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #The Substitute Ladybug #marinette dupain cheng