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tellmeallaboutit · 6 hours

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knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better.

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm.

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you?

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably.

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters.

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped?

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed.

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together.

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you.

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week).

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way).

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction.

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd.

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin.

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction.

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway.

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael.

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael.

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep.

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote...

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?"

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were.

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee.

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair?

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up.

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look.

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?"

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?"

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement.

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money.

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack. "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition".

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair.

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said.

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me."

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute. Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm.

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer.

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you.

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away.

You remained seated and stayed.

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman.

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there.

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender.

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting?

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts.

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?"

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone.

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'.

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x player #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x you #meta fanfic

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twignotstick · 17 days

Text

Liar, Liar

Note: The characters in this fic are from @rufwooff 's teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles au. Leo is a salamander, Mikey is a toad/frog, Donnie is a gecko, and Raph is an alligator. It can sort of be read as a rise fic if you ignore the... frog stuff? But there are things that might not make sense without knowledge of the au. This post specifically inspired the fic.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Leo-centric, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Teenage Mutant Ninja Everything-but-Turtles, tmnebt, turtle tots (still unsure abt that one), dialogue written like a child, lying, extremely fluffy, but with a hint of angst

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): nothing, why would i ever hurt kids :)

Words: 4,647

Summary: Leo finally gets to spend a day alone with his little brother, Mikey. When things go wrong, he decides to save himself. After all, what's so bad about a little lie?

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“Can grow to doo-ble the size in a few… h-owers…”

Leo held the small package he'd found close to his face, trying his best to read what the label said. Donnie had told him it was some kind of toy, but it just looked like a plastic whale to him. Mikey watched Leo from the bowl he was quickly outgrowing, listening intently to Leo's somewhat successful attempt at reading.

“Leave in a cup or bowl of wwwater and watch the magic!” Leo read triumphantly, holding the toy in front of him. The salamander looked over to his little brother. “We just need a cup or something to use it!”

“Wah'der!” Mikey noted wisely, bracing himself on the edge of the glass.

“Right!” Leo nodded, face turning pensive. “But I can't reach any of the cups or bowls in the kitchen, and Dad doesn't want me climbing on stuff anymore…”

“Waphie?” Mikey suggested.

“Raph's busy with Dad cooking dinner. Bo-ring.” Leo sighed. “And Donnie said he was studying today…”

“Hmm…” Mikey hummed, before his eyes lit up. “Bow’!” He squeaked, rocking his bowl side to side. “Bow’! A bow’!”

“No Mikey, we need a-” Leo caught on. “Oh, a bowl. You're a genius, Mikey!”

Mikey squeaked and squealed in response to the praise, wiggling what was left of his tail in the water. “Tank you.”

“Alright then, Mikester. You're gonna have to show off how good you are with those new legs.” Leo wrapped his arms around his baby brother's body, struggling for a moment to get a good grip with both of them having slippery skin, but he eventually hefted Mikey out of the bowl under his armpits and placed him on the stone floor. “This'll be a good oppa-tunity for you! You just gotta stay here while I fill up the bowl the rest of the way, okay?”

“Okie-dokie!” Mikey replied cheerfully, patting his newly grown hands on the floor. They had been fully developed for about a week, but he had yet to do much with them other than waving and clapping.

Taking Mikey's word without any doubt, Leo picked up the half filled bowl and carried it away to the nearby tunnel. Sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to go into the tunnels by himself. And sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to leave Mikey alone when they were playing. But Leo was a big boy! And so was Mikey! Mikey had all of his limbs now! That, Leo didn't exactly understand, because Leo always had all his limbs, just like Raph and Donnie. Mikey was just a ball with a tail and eyeballs. A tadpole, Donnie's voice reminded him. Now Mikey was a toadlet, which meant surely he was grown enough to be on his own for a few minutes.

It wasn't like Leo didn't like spending time with Mikey. He loved watching movies with him, coloring things with him, even chatting with him despite his more limited vocabulary. Mikey just… couldn't play a lot of the games Leo liked to play. Leo liked to move, and Mikey couldn't move a lot. Mikey couldn't play tag, or hide and seek, and he could only play Jupiter Jim if he was playing as Godfred, the Goldfish King. Even then, he was no fun to play with without his royal guards.

Today, Leo got to play with Mikey without supervision, a job usually reserved for his older brothers. It was a total breeze, he had found out, because Mikey was so stationary. Babies were boring, but they were easy.

Leo carried the bowl back, making sure to spill as little of the mildly murky sewer water he had collected as possible, and put it down right next to the toy he had left on the floor. Right next to the puddle where Mikey was sitting before.

Puddle?

“Boys! Come eat!”

“...spit.”

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

Leo walked into the kitchen with a nervous smile on his face, finding that Raph and Donnie were already seated with food in front of them. Both plates were filled with vegetables and meat, and Splinter was preparing two more plates with more of the same.

“Hello, Blue,” Splinter greeted, glancing around Leo's sides. “Where is your brother? I thought he was with you.”

“H-he was! He just got reeeally tired,” Leo lied, swaying on his feet and swishing his tail slowly. “So I tucked him in bed. He was really, indubitably tired.”

“You don't even know what that word means, Leo.” Donnie glared right into Leo's soul, pushing his glasses up as Leo sat down next to him.

“Yes I do! I-it means Mikey was really super tired!”

“Purple, do not be rude to your brother,” Splinter scolded. “If Orange was tired, he should sleep. He is a growing boy. Thank you, Blue, for tucking him in. He can eat later, after he wakes up.” Splinter finished preparing a plate for himself, then sat down next to his sons and began eating. “Did you all enjoy yourselves today?”

Raphael nodded. “I showed Cheech how to beat up the practice dummy right! He wasn't too good at holdin’ Raph's sais though.”

“That is very kind of you, Red. I'm sure that Cheech will improve if you keep training him.” Splinter smiled kindly.

“He won't,” Donnie whispered, leaning into Leo's ear. “Teddy bears can't do ninjutsu.”

“I think Raph can teach him, Raph's good at teaching,” Leo whispered back.

“What about you, Purple?”

Donnie straightened his posture, his tail sticking straight up for a moment, straightening his glasses again. “I actually did some very helpful research using the encyclopedia that Dad found and the book on reptiles we got a while ago.” He looked around at his brothers. “I learned a lot about our different species. I looked pretty closely into toads and frogs so I could talk to Mikey about his current state, but apparently I can't, because he fell asleep at 6 pm.” Donnie side eyed Leo questioningly.

“You can tell him about what you learned tomorrow, Purple,” Splinter said. “I'm sure whatever he and Blue did today was exhausting, was it not?” He asked, redirecting the conversation to Leo.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Leo agreed fervently. “Me and Mike were having so much fun. Like, Mikey was having sooo much fun, he literally passed out! And I put him in bed, like a good big brother!”

“He… passed out?” Raph asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Like, knocked out hard. Totally asleep. And I tucked him in good!”

“In his tub.” Donnie raised a drawn eyebrow.

“That's right!”

“Boys, there is no need to argue about this,” Splinter said with a strained smile as the brothers finished eating and put their plates away in the sink. “We should all be happy for Blue, who has proven himself as a big brother.”

“He's sure proving something, alright…” Donnie murmured with crossed arms.

“You can spend a little more time up, but I want you to get to bed soon as well. Meanwhile, I will be taking this opportunity to take a nice, long shower.” Splinter shook his robed arms, showcasing the small clumps of fur gathering across his body. “This stuff gets oily way faster than you would expect.”

“Don't worry Pops!” Raph said, standing absurdly tall for a child of his age and swishing his unruly tail. “I'll check on Mike, then I'll make sure Leo and Don get to sleep too! You have my word!” Raph tried to hold up a military salute, but he caught his hand on his large jaws and hit his head backwards, tail and arms flailing to make sure he didn't fall. He looked distraught for a moment, before making a show of shaking off the pain to be strong for his dad.

Splinter sighed. “Thank you, Red.”

Leo straightened up, eyes widening as he saw his brothers going toward their room, and dashed over to the sink to drop off his own plate so he could follow. Quickly, would be preferable.

“Blue? May I speak with you?”

Spit.

Leo stood with the most relaxed posture he could muster as he faced his dad, leaning on the countertop behind him with one elbow. “Sure, Pops!”

Splinter kneeled down in front of the salamander. “I wanted to thank you for spending the day with your little brother. I know that he is still unable to do many of the things that you can, but it is good to hear that you included him in your games anyways.”

“Oh,” Leo said, losing his fake nonchalance for a moment. “It… it was no big deal, Dad.”

“I would say it was a big deal, Leonardo.” Splinter placed a paw on Leo's shoulder, smiling softly at his son. “Once Orange hits the growth spurt he is bound to, it will be much more difficult to keep you boys from bouncing off the walls. I am glad to know I can trust you to take care of your little brother.”

Leo's heart dropped in his chest with guilt, but he kept his outward appearance well enough. Internally, he was screaming to run away and stop his brothers from reaching the bedroom. “Of course, Dad. Mikey was actually really really super fun to hang with! Not boring at all! He actually was playing way more than me, and like, he was really cool and stuff. And fun to play with,” he added carefully.

Splinter stood up, cracking his back. “That is great to hear. Now-” he clapped his hands- “to wash the gunk out of this gross fur!”

As soon as Splinter skipped away, Leo fumbled over his feet to rush to the bedroom. He kicked his tail a few times, but ignored it in his frenzy. His brothers were already there! It was over! He would never be trusted again! Not by Raph, not by Donnie (though who really cared about that), and most importantly, not by his dad!

When Leo got to the shared bedroom, he slid on the floor to turn in the doorway as fast as possible, only to find Raph terrifyingly close to Mikey's tank.

“WAIT!”

Both of his brothers looked up at him immediately. Donnie's glare from where he sat on his bed quickly changed from confused to exhausted. “And why, dear Nardo, would Raph need to wait?”

Leo hesitated. “Well, b-because-”

“No, Leo. You've been super suspicious ever since you came to dinner.” Donnie stood up, putting the book he had in his hands down.

“No I haven't!” Leo defended. “I don't even know what that means, so I can't be that.”

“It means you've been acting weird because you're hiding something!” Donnie accused.

“Am not!” Leo defended.

“Yes, you a-”

“Guys!” Raph whispered furiously, catching the other boys’ attention. “If you're gonna fight, do it quiet. Mikey's still asleep.” The oldest brother turned away, not being able to see the despaired expression on Leo's face, and approached Mikey's corner of the room where his small tank sat.

Donnie looked back at Leo with disdain. “Whatever you're hiding, you should just cough it up. Dad doesn't like liars.”

“Well that's great, cause I'm not lying. I'm like, the least liar-est person ever.”

“Uh, Donnie?” Raph asked quietly from his spot by the tank. “Didn't you say Mikey was supposed to mecha-morph-uh.. whatever?”

“Metamorphosis. It's the process through which a tadpole becomes a frog or toad. Commonly associated with frogs and butterflies, which come from caterpillars. And technically, the word would be ‘metamorphose’, in this context.”

“I think he meta-morph-osed into a whale instead…”

Leo held his breath.

“What?” Donnie walked over to the tank, continuing to ramble. “No, he's supposed to metamorphose into a fire bellied toad, not a whale. There's no way that- GASP!” Donnie plunged his hand in the tank, coming back out with an unmistakable item. “You left his bowl in the tank?!”

“What?! I-I don't know how that got there, I swear!” Leo stammered, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

“You said you put Mikey to bed! Mikey isn't here, but his bowl is!” Donnie shouted. “You lied! You lost Mikey!”

“N-no I didn't!”

“Oh yeah? Then how did his bowl get here?”

Leo puffed his cheeks, fuming. “It wasn't even my fault! Mikey said I could use his bowl!”

Raph gasped this time, like a normal person. “You really lost Mikey?”

Leo's anger faltered at the sad face on his big brother. The reality of the situation was finally settling in. “I-I didn't mean to. I just went in the tunnel for one second-”

“You went in the tunnels?!” Raph screamed.

Leo winced. “It was just for like a second, and nothing even happened!”

“Clearly, something did happen,” Donnie interjected, putting the bowl down. “You. Lost. Mikey!”

“I did not! Mikey said-”

“GUYS!” Raph slammed his tail on the ground, scaring his brothers into attention. “Right now, Raph's gonna ignore all the rules you broke. We don't need to fight about who to blame, because Mikey is missing. He could be in danger, or worse, already hurt. We need to find him before Dad finds out.” Raph stepped closer to Leo. “Now, where did you lose Mikey?”

“I didn't lose hi-”

“Mikey was under your supervision. Now he's gone. You lost Mikey,” Donnie said sternly. “Where did you lose him?”

Leo stared down at his feet, then sighed heavily. “It was right by the tunnel entrance, by the toy room. When I came-d back in, there was just a puddle where he was sitting before.”

“A puddle?” Donnie asked.

“Yeah, that's what I just said,” Leo groaned.

“No, that could be a clue. Show us where the puddle was,” Raph urged.

“Uh, okay.” Leo turned around and walked down the hall with his brothers in tow. He couldn't help but feel their eyes glaring into his back, judging him. Hating him for lying. For putting his baby brother in danger.

Maybe he wasn't a good big brother like Dad had said. Mikey was the only little brother he had. How did he screw that up?

They reached the end of the hall, and Leo was surprised to see a little bit of dampness still on the floor, even after almost an hour. “He was right here,” he said, crouching down to look.

“Hm,” Donnie hummed, crouching down as well. “Just as I thought.” He put a finger in the spot on the ground, surprising his brothers when his hand came up with something slimy. “Mikey didn't just leave the water from his bowl, he also left mucous.”

“Mucous? Like, he snotted everywhere?” Raph questioned.

“No, it's not snot. It's mucous. Many frogs and toads produce mucous with glands on their skin that helps keep it moist. In some, it also helps them breathe through their skin,” Donnie explained.

“So, Mikey left his skin snot on the floor,” Leo gathered.

“No. It's mucous, not snot.”

“Hey, look!” Raph pointed to another spot on the floor. “More snot!”

“Follow it!” Leo said, running over to the spot and searching for more.

Donnie pinched the bridge of his snout. “Again, not snot, but okay, we have a lead.”

“Why's it in spots, and not, like, little froggy footprints?” Raph asked, following as Leo spotted more spots.

“It's possible that Mikey figured out how to hop,” Donnie said.

“Ha! So this was worth it!” Leo said, pumping a fist. “I taught Mikey how to hop!”

“Or, you taught him how to hop off a cliff and die. Or hop right into a human's home,” Donnie replied.

“Donnie…” Raph whispered.

Leo didn't respond, instead choosing to keep following the spots. There were a few he saw on the walls, which he noted curiously. They traveled all throughout the lair, slowly becoming more recent. Eventually, the brothers found a place where they entered a door.

The bathroom door, where soft singing could be heard on the other side.

“Aw, spit.”

Raph elbowed Leo's shoulder. “Dad said you shouldn't say that anymore.”

“Why? It's not a bad word. I can say it all I want! Spit, spit, spit-”

“Guys,” Donnie said, “let's worry more about the mucous going into the room where Dad is showering.”

“Oh, right.”

The trio opened the door slowly, getting facefuls of steam that fogged up Donnie's glasses, causing him to back out. Leo and Raph stuck their heads in, surveying the area. Splinter's operatic singing filled their ears, making them wince. However, in the midst of the steam filled bathroom, they spotted what they were looking for.

Mikey was perched on the edge of the sink, looking at the closed shower curtain with wide eyes.

“Mikey!” Leo whispered, getting Mikey's attention and drawing his eyes. “Hey Angelo! Come here, come to Leo!” He held his hands out, beckoning.

Mikey squeaked softly, waving at Leo, then pointing at the shower.

“Nonono, don't go there buddy, hop over here!”

Mikey grinned, then readied himself to jump straight at the curtain.

“MIKEY!”

The clattering of metal and screams of the boys cut off Splinter's singing, as Mikey hopped right onto the curtain and pulled the curtain rod down. Raph pushed past Leo into the room, catching Mikey before he fell to the floor with the curtain.

Splinter, despite being covered with soaked fur, tried to cover himself and turned the shower off. “Boys!? What is the meaning of this?!”

Raph fumbled to keep Mikey in his arms. “Sorry, Pops! Mikey was just-”

Mikey turned around in Raph's arms, reaching out to Splinter. “Hi Daddy!”

“Orange? What are you doing awake?”

“He, uh, he woke up!” Leo said, pushing in front of Raph. “We had to follow him here.”

“Follow him?” Splinter raised an eyebrow.

Raph looked at Leo, unsure.

“Yes?” Leo said nervously.

They all stood still, Leo patting his toe on the floor. He couldn't tell if he was sweating of fear, or if it was just the steam in the room. The tension felt as thick as the steam filled air.

“LEO LOST MIKEY!”

“What?!”

“DONNIE, YOU SNITCH! I DID NOT!”

“YES YOU DID! AND YOU LIED! LEO LIED!” Donnie screamed from outside the room.

“Donnie! Stop being mean to Leo!” Raph said, struggling to keep a hold on the boy in his arms. Mikey wriggled around, bracing his feet on Raph's chest and hopping off, sending himself flying into Splinter's arms while also hitting Raph's jaws shut with a clack and nearly sending Raph falling backwards.

“Orange!” Splinter caught Mikey deftly, checking him over. Then, he looked back up to his other sons. More specifically, at the one who had just been basically slapped by his own jaw. “Red, are you okay?”

Raph grunted, but nodded slowly as he held his snout.

“Good. That was very rude of you, Orange,” he said to the son in his arms. “What do you say?”

“I'm sowwy, Waphie…” Mikey mumbled with innocent eyes. Raph gave a weak thumbs up in response.

“Good job. I'm very proud of you for learning how to jump.” Splinter looked at Leo, who physically shrank.

“I-I swear, I didn't meanta lose him. We were just playing, a-and he said-”

“He can tell me what he said.”

Leo felt tears trying to force their way out behind his eyes.

Splinter sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Red,” he addressed, “make sure your brothers get to bed. With no screens,” he said, shooting a glare at the door.

“I would never!” Donnie scoffed from outside.

“I will come to tuck you in as soon as I am done with my shower. I have a feeling that Orange won't let me go without giving him a good bath, too,” he added, causing Mikey to squeak and laugh in his hold.

“No problem, Pops,” Raph said, walking toward the door.

Leo blinked, confused. Where was his scolding? Where was his slap on the wrist? This couldn't possibly be that bad, right? “B-but I-”

“Go to bed, Leonardo.”

Leo shut up fast, swallowing all of his tears and excuses. He followed Raph glumly out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Raph was standing outside with a concerned look on his face, while Donnie wore a smirk.

“I told you Dad doesn't like liars.”

Leo walked past, trying to get to the bedroom with as little eye contact as possible. Raph reached to grab his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked faster. Donnie's words echoed in his head.

Dad didn't like liars. Leo was a liar. Dad was the one that took care of them.

He could kick Leo out.

He'd have to live in the tunnels. Or maybe, Dad wouldn't let him live in the tunnels. He'd have to live on the surface, with the humans. The humans who wanted to catch him. Who wanted to pull him apart to see what he was made of and then piece him back together to see what he could do. He would die without his dad. He didn't want to live without his dad. Without his brothers. Without Mikey. Because he did love Mikey, even if he lied. At least he thought so.

Maybe Dad wouldn't care now. Maybe Dad didn't love him now. Leo was a liar. Dad doesn't like liars. Why would he?

Leo flopped into his bed as soon as he reached it, pulling the covers over himself and turning in to face the wall. Raph attempted to talk to him, but Leo only curled up tighter, pulling his tail up so far he could see it in front of his face.

Eventually, Raph gave up. Leo heard him softly scolding Donnie, but tried to ignore it as silent tears fell off his cheeks.

Just when he thought he was about to fall asleep, Leo heard the bedroom door opening. He wiped his face and turned slightly, seeing Splinter walk first to Donnie's bed, then to Raph's, before finally coming toward Leo's.

He noticed Mikey sitting in the doorway, who waved when he caught Leo's eyes. Leo waved back slowly.

Splinter kneeled by Leo's bedside, just like he would any other night to tuck him in. Usually, this would bring Leo warmth and comfort, reminding him that his father loved him. This time, Leo couldn't fight the sense of dread that filled his chest, making it feel like he was breathing something heavier than air. He wasn't getting tucked in. He didn't deserve that anymore. He was a liar.

Dad doesn't like liars.

His father's eyes seemed to see right through him. “I am very upset with you, Leonardo.”

Leo tensed, but kept looking at Splinter.

“I am not upset that you lost track of your brother. You are a child, and I cannot expect you to be perfect. Do you know why I am upset?”

Leo nodded slowly, then mumbled, “Because I lied…”

“Exactly. It is because you lied. You could have told me as soon as it happened, and I would have helped you look for him. Instead, you lied and put your brother at even more risk. You could have fessed up when I saw Michelangelo in the bathroom. But yet, you still didn't. You didn't admit to your own fault. It took Donatello telling me for you to finally confess. And even then, you tried to rid yourself of all guilt.”

Leo sniffed, tearing up again. “Are you gonna kick me out?”

Splinter's eyebrows raised in shock. “What? No, I will not kick you out. Why would I ever do something so horrible?”

Something shattered.

“But… but I lied! I hurt Mikey! I-I'm a bad brother!” Leo's tears started flowing openly.

“No, no, Blue, you are okay. Shh…” Splinter rubbed his hand across Leo's face, wiping a tear away.

Leo sniffled and hiccuped, holding onto the back of Splinter's hand and softly sobbing. “I'm sorry, Dad, I-I didn't want to…”

Splinter rubbed his son's cheek, hushing him quietly. “I know. But that does not change what you did.” He looked deeply into his son's eyes, ensuring he had his full attention. “I forgive you, but this cannot go without punishment. I will not kick you out, and I never would. You are my son. Instead, you will be grounded for a month.”

Leo whined, but nodded. “Okay…”

“However, I believe that taking away the things that bring you joy will not make you learn the lesson that you need to learn. That is why, during this month, you will not be disallowed from doing anything in our home. Do you understand that?”

Leo nodded.

“The only caveat is that you must spend the entire month with your brother, Michelangelo. You will only do things that he wants to do. You will not plant ideas in his head or put words in his mouth. You will only do things that he says he wants to do. If he ever wants to spend time away from you, you will spend that time with me. Do you understand?”

“Mhm.” Leo nodded again.

“Perfect.” Splinter smiled. “I forgive you for this, and I hope that through this grounding period you can regain my trust.”

Leo smiled as well and nodded one last time, wiping one last tear with the heel of his hand. “I hope so too.”

Splinter turned to the doorway and waved Mikey over with his hand. Mikey grinned and hopped over, much quicker than Leo had expected. He stopped at Leo's bedside, slowly using the bed to brace himself as he stood up on shaky legs, then looked at his father.

“Tell Blue what you told me, Orange.”

Mikey wobbled for a second, then looked up at Leo. “I, um, I'm sowwy I went away when you said not go away. And I'm sowwy, um, I jumped at Daddy when you said not to do… And, um, I wwwanted to s'eep in a big boy bed tonight, cause imma big boy now, but I don't got a big boy bed, can I s’eep wi’ you.” Mikey finished the sentence like a statement, not a question, but his intention was clear.

Leo looked for just a second at his dad, who nodded encouragingly, before looking back at his little brother. “Sure, Mike. Hop on up here.”

Mikey did just that, with more force than Leo had expected. “Wow, Angelo, you've really got good legs now!” Leo said, catching Mikey in his arms and helping tuck him into the blankets. Meanwhile, Splinter walked to Mikey's tank and came back with his bowl and a towel.

“Alright, boys. Orange, your bowl will be right here if you need to soak, and your tank will be there if you want it.” Splinter pulled the blanket up, kissing each boy on the forehead. He cringed and wiped his lips after kissing Mikey, making the boy squeak and giggle. “Sleep well, my big boys. I am so proud of you, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” both boys chorused. Mikey snuggled into Leo's chest, letting Leo hold him like a stuffed animal. Leo only flinched for a moment at the slimy feeling of Mikey's skin (mucous, not snot).

Splinter walked out of the room, and it was barely even 20 seconds after he heard the door close that Leo heard a whisper coming from beside him.

“I'm sowwy, ‘eo,” Mikey murmured.

Leo looked down at his brother, confused. “You already said sorry. You don't gotta say it again.”

“But I said sowwy then cause Dad said,” Mikey explained. “Now, I said sowwy cause Mikey said.”

“Oh.” Leo settled back in, putting his chin on Mikey's head. “Well, I'm really sorry too. And that's cause Leo said,” he added, smirking.

Mikey giggled and squeezed Leo tightly, wiggling beneath the sheets. In a matter of minutes, the young amphibian had completely fallen asleep, slightly drooling on Leo's pillow. He didn't mind.

Leo grabbed onto Mikey and closed his eyes as well.

He never wanted to let go again.

○●○●○●○

Did I tell myself I would write au comp propaganda? Yes. Did I write a fic about an au completely unrelated to the comp? Yes, and I'm not sorry. I figured since another round finished up today, why not post something?

For real, I've had some insane art block recently, and writing has been keeping me sane. I tried writing propaganda, hated it, then realized, you know what makes me feel better every time? Turtle tots.

In this case, everything-but-turtle tots.

Shoutout to @rufwooff for making one of the most serotonin filled aus I've seen in a while, and fueling my exhaustion-induced writing spree. And go check out @tmntaucompetition! We're getting closer to the end! AAH!

#tmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles #tmnebt #twig writes

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