#THE WAY SPLINTER CAN HOLD ALL FOUR OF THEM IN A HUG??? HELP

[mbruben-stein]

Alphabet swf for tmnt 2012 please

TMNT 2012 SFW Alphabet: Leonardo.

A/N: You weren't perfect on which TMNT Character to write, so I'm doing Leo, which I hope is okay with you. Also, I only write one character per alphabet SWF if it's the full list. Now, if you're picking a list of characters and only a few letters from the SFW alphabet, then yes, I would have done all four of them.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Leo tends to be more reserved in outwardly expressing affection, as he tries to maintain a serious leader-like demeanor. However, with someone he is truly close to and comfortable with, he shows his caring side through thoughtful gestures and quality time together. Leo is attentive and makes an effort to remember little details about his partner's interests and preferences. He enjoys having deep conversations and bonding over shared nerdy hobbies like sci-fi shows. While not extremely physically affectionate in public, in private Leo is tender, giving warm hugs, gentle caresses, and loving looks. His affection comes through in the way he is supportive, protective, and willing to make sacrifices for his loved one's wellbeing. Leo may not be the most vocal about his feelings, but his devotion and commitment speak volumes.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Leo would be extremely loyal, protective, and always there to lend an ear or help out however he can. The friendship would likely start with him coming to your aid in some situation where you really needed help. Despite being focused on his ninjutsu training, Leo has a big heart and would be drawn to befriend someone he sees struggling or in need of assistance. Once he commits to the friendship, he's all in - willing to put himself in harm's way for your wellbeing. Leo can be a bit overbearing at times with his "big brother" tendency to want to guide and teach. But he means well, and you'd have an unwavering ally and confidant in him. His nerdiness about shows like Space Heroes might initially seem strange, but you'd come to find his passion for heroic ideals admirable and endearing.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Leo tends to be a bit reserved when it comes to physical affection, but he cherishes quiet, intimate moments to cuddle with his significant other. He likes being the "big spoon" and holding his partner close, feeling protective yet relaxed in their embrace. Leo enjoys running his fingers gently through their hair or tracing soothing patterns on their back as they snuggle. Though serious by nature, he lets his guard down completely when cuddling, nuzzling his face against theirs and peppering soft kisses on their cheeks or forehead. Leo's cuddles are tender, his grip secure yet gentle, providing a sense of safety and comfort as the two enjoy each other's warmth and company in these blissful moments.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

While Leo is deeply committed to his role as the leader and protector of his brothers, there is a part of him that longs for a more settled life outside of constant battles and vigilantism. He admires the idea of having a place to call his own, where he can find peace and stability. However, his sense of duty and responsibility often overshadows his personal desires. When it comes to cooking and cleaning, Leo is surprisingly skilled, having learned the importance of organization and taking care of their living space from Master Splinter. He finds solace in the routine of preparing meals for his brothers and maintaining a clean environment, as it allows him to channel his disciplined nature into practical tasks that benefit his family.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Leo had to break up with his significant other, he would likely approach it with maturity and sensitivity, yet also with a sense of honor and directness that reflects his disciplined nature. He would likely want to have an open and honest conversation, expressing his feelings and reasons for the decision with clarity and respect. As the leader, Leo values clear communication, so he would aim to be direct without being unnecessarily harsh. At the same time, his protective instincts might make it difficult for him to fully open up about the reasons behind the breakup if he felt it could deeply hurt his partner. Despite his seriousness, Leo has a tendency to be idealistic, so the breakup might stem from a realization that the relationship was not living up to his romantic expectations or vision of the perfect partnership. His desire to emulate heroic archetypes could also play a role, perhaps feeling that the relationship was holding him back from fully embodying the qualities he admires. Ultimately, while the conversation would likely be difficult, Leo would strive to handle the breakup with grace, empathy, and a desire to minimize unnecessary pain or conflict, reflecting his role as a wise and caring leader.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Leo takes commitment very seriously, viewing it as a profound duty and responsibility. As a leader, he understands the importance of honoring one's vows and obligations. When it comes to marriage, Leo would want to take things slowly and ensure he is fully ready before making that lifelong commitment. He is a bit of a romantic at heart, inspired by the heroic ideals he sees in "Space Heroes", but he's also pragmatic. Leo would likely want to be financially stable, have a clear purpose and path forward, and be absolutely certain about his partner before proposing marriage. Once married, he would be fiercely loyal and devoted, viewing it as his role to provide and protect his family unit. While not opposed to marriage, Leo would carefully weigh the decision rather than rushing into it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Leo is incredibly gentle, both physically and emotionally, with his s/o. Despite his intense ninja training and battle-hardened skills, he has an incredibly soft side reserved only for his loved one. Physically, his touches are feather-light, his embraces tender and protective. He's always mindful of his strength, never wanting to inadvertently hurt his partner. Emotionally, Leo showers his s/o with patience, understanding, and unwavering support. He's an attentive listener, validating their feelings without judgment. His words are carefully chosen to soothe and uplift. Leo's protective nature extends to creating a safe emotional space where his s/o can be vulnerable without fear. With his maturity and wisdom, he's able to de-escalate conflicts and provide reassuring calm in turbulent moments. Leo's gentle nature nurtures a deep intimacy in the relationship.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

When it comes to hugs, Leo is not one to shy away from them, especially with his significant other. He finds comfort and solace in their warm embrace, allowing himself to momentarily shed the weight of responsibility he carries as the leader of the team. Leo's hugs are firm and enveloping, conveying a sense of security and protection. He holds his partner close, savoring the connection and the opportunity to express his affection without words. While Leo may not initiate hugs as frequently as his more outgoing brothers, he certainly welcomes and reciprocates them wholeheartedly. In those tender moments, the usually guarded leader lets his walls down, revealing a softer side that only his significant other gets to witness. Leo's hugs are a reminder of the depth of his feelings and his ability to be both a strong protector and a gentle, loving partner.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Leo's dedication to his role as leader and his desire to protect his siblings would likely make him cautious about developing romantic feelings. However, once he lets his guard down and allows himself to be vulnerable with someone he truly cares for, his passionate nature could lead to him expressing his love relatively quickly. In a relationship with his significant other, Leo would initially try to maintain a level of professionalism and not rush into things. But as the bond deepens and he witnesses their loyalty, strength, and ability to support him, his feelings would intensify rapidly. Leo's romantic side, usually overshadowed by his responsibilities as a leader, would emerge. He might surprise his partner by declaring his love wholeheartedly, albeit accompanied by his characteristic cheesy one-liners and attempts to emulate his beloved "Space Heroes" characters. While his brothers might tease him, Leo would be unfazed, secure in his love for his significant other and their acceptance of his quirks.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Leo's jealousy would stem from his deep care and protective nature towards his significant other. While generally mature and level-headed, the thought of someone else vying for their affection or potentially endangering their well-being would bring out a more possessive side in him. His jealousy would manifest through subtle actions - narrowed eyes tracking any perceived threat, a tightening jaw, and a shift in his body language to become more shielding of his partner. Vocally, he might make thinly-veiled comments about the other person's intentions or attempt to steer his significant other away from the situation. However, Leo would be conscious of not overstepping boundaries or appearing controlling. If the jealousy became overwhelming, he would likely withdraw to meditate and regain his composure, later having an open discussion with his partner to reassure himself and clear the air. Ultimately, his jealousy would be a temporary lapse fueled by his desire to safeguard what he holds dear.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Leo tends to be quite passionate yet tender when kissing his significant other. He savors every moment, wanting to express his deep feelings through the intimacy of a kiss. Leo particularly loves peppering gentle kisses along his partner's jawline and neck, finding those areas incredibly alluring. He'll often nuzzle his face against theirs before capturing their lips in a soulful kiss, trying to convey all the affection and adoration he holds for them. In return, Leo melts when his significant other plants soft kisses on his cheeks and forehead - those simple yet loving gestures make his heart swell. Though he maintains a serious demeanor much of the time, Leo's kisses reveal his profound capacity for tenderness and devotion to the one he loves.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Leo's serious and disciplined nature often softens around children. While he maintains his role as a protective older brother figure, he exhibits a gentle patience when interacting with kids. His time spent watching "Space Heroes" allows him to connect with their sense of wonder and imagination. The idea of having his own children one day both excites and daunts Leo. On one hand, he relishes the opportunity to nurture and guide the next generation, imparting wisdom much like his mentor Splinter. However, his protective instincts also make him wary of the immense responsibility of parenthood. Leo wants to ensure he can provide a safe, structured environment for raising highly-skilled ninja kids. Despite his uncertainties, the thought of starting a family with his significant other fills him with a sense of purpose beyond his role as a leader of the turtles.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Leo are a tranquil, almost meditative experience. He rises before the sun, carefully rolling out of bed so as not to disturb his sleeping partner. After a light workout and meditation session, Leo returns to prepare a healthy breakfast for them both. As his significant other stirs awake, they are greeted by the aroma of fresh tea and Leo's warm smile. He insists they start the day with a zen moment together, side-by-side on the mat, centering their minds before the inevitable chaos of the day's missions unfolds. Though his disciplined routine may seem rigid to some, Leo's mornings with his loved one are imbued with tenderness, respect for ancient traditions, and an unshakable devotion to strengthening the spiritual bond between two warriors' hearts.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights spent with Leo are always a mix of quiet quality time and geeky adventures. After a day of intense training or battles against the Foot Clan, Leo loves to unwind by cuddling up with his loved one on the couch to rewatch favorite episodes of "Space Heroes." He can't resist quoting the cheesy heroic lines, much to his partner's amusement. But his significant other also admires Leo's real-life heroism and leadership. Sometimes they'll play act battle scenarios, with Leo directing the strategy before dissolving into laughter at their silliness. Other evenings are spent stargazing on the rooftops, as Leo points out constellations and shares his deep thoughts about honor, courage and protecting his family and city. With his loved one by his side, Leo can truly relax and be his authentic, nerdy yet noble self.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

When it comes to Leo revealing things about himself in a romantic relationship, he would likely take a gradual approach. As someone who values discipline, maturity, and responsibility, Leo would want to build trust and intimacy with his significant other over time before fully opening up. Initially, Leo might share surface-level details about his interests, like his fondness for the show "Space Heroes" and his desire to emulate heroic qualities. However, he would likely hold back on delving too deeply into his personal struggles, insecurities, or vulnerabilities until he feels a strong emotional connection and senses that his partner is someone he can truly confide in. As the relationship progresses and Leo becomes more comfortable, he would gradually reveal more about his role as the leader of the Turtles, the weight of responsibility he carries, and the challenges he faces in maintaining harmony within the team, especially with his sibling rivalry with Raphael. He might also open up about his desire for perfection and the pressures he puts on himself to be an exemplary leader and role model. Rather than an all-at-once revelation, Leo would likely share these deeper aspects of himself in layers, gauging his partner's reactions and building trust along the way. Once he truly feels understood and accepted, Leo would be more likely to fully expose his innermost thoughts, fears, and struggles, seeking not just a romantic partner but also a confidant and source of emotional support.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Leo is usually calm, collected, and level-headed, especially when compared to his more hotheaded brother Raphael. However, his significant other has seen that Leo can get frustrated and angry at times, particularly when his brothers don't listen to his orders during missions or when he feels he has failed as a leader. With his partner though, Leo lets his guard down more. He may get momentarily annoyed if teased about his love for Space Heroes or if his strategies are questioned, but a reassuring touch from his loved one can quickly diffuse any flare of temper. Leo's partner knows he has a tendency to be hard on himself, so they are always ready with kind words and reminders that he's doing his best to lead the team. While Leo has an intense personality, his significant other's patience and understanding helps him work through frustrations in a healthy way.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

When it comes to his significant other (s/o), Leo's attention to detail and ability to remember are quite remarkable. As someone who prides himself on being disciplined and responsible, he would make a conscious effort to remember every little detail about his partner that they share with him. Leo is the type of person who would actively listen and pay close attention whenever his s/o talks about their interests, aspirations, or even casual anecdotes from their day. He would commit these details to memory, not just because he cares deeply for his partner, but also because he understands the importance of being attentive and considerate. With his analytical mind and his tendency to pick up on subtleties, Leo would likely remember small things like his s/o's favorite color, their preferred type of music, or the stories they shared about their childhood. He would also take note of their likes, dislikes, and any important dates or events that hold significance for them. While Leo may occasionally forget a minor detail here and there, especially if it was mentioned in passing, he would make a conscious effort to retain as much information as possible about his significant other. His ability to remember and cherish these details would likely strengthen their bond and make his s/o feel valued and appreciated.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Leo's favorite moment with his significant other is when they had their first real heart-to-heart talk, opening up about their hopes, fears, and what drives them. Despite his bravado as a leader, Leo deeply values emotional vulnerability and being able to share his true self with someone he loves. On that night, as they sat together gazing at the city skyline, Leo felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy unlike anything he'd experienced before. His partner listened intently without judgment, offering caring reassurance when Leo expressed his occasional self-doubts about being a good leader. In return, Leo provided a supportive shoulder as his loved one courageously revealed their own insecurities. From that point on, Leo knew he could trust this person wholeheartedly, and it solidified his commitment to the relationship in a way little else could.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Leo would be incredibly protective of his significant other, given his strong sense of responsibility and his deep care for those close to him. He would go to great lengths to ensure their safety and well-being, always remaining vigilant and ready to defend them from any potential harm. Leo's protective nature would manifest in various ways. He would likely insist on accompanying his partner whenever they venture out, keeping a watchful eye and being prepared to jump into action if necessary. He would also make sure their living spaces are secure, checking for vulnerabilities and taking measures to fortify them. Additionally, Leo would encourage his partner to learn self-defense techniques, not only for their own protection but also because he values discipline and preparedness. He would take great pride in being their mentor, patiently guiding them through training sessions and ensuring they can handle themselves in difficult situations. In return, Leo would deeply appreciate his partner's efforts to protect him as well. While he may initially resist the idea of needing protection, he would ultimately find comfort in knowing his loved one has his back. Their mutual commitment to safeguarding each other would strengthen their bond and reinforce the trust and respect they share.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Leo would put a tremendous amount of effort into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks when it comes to his significant other. Being the disciplined and responsible leader that he is, Leo would approach his relationship with the same dedication and commitment he shows towards his duties as the leader of the Turtles. For dates and anniversaries, Leo would meticulously plan every detail, from researching the perfect romantic location to carefully selecting meaningful gifts that reflect his deep understanding and appreciation for his partner. He would likely incorporate elements from his beloved "Space Heroes" show, adding a touch of his geeky charm to make the occasion truly unique and special. In everyday tasks, Leo would be attentive and considerate, always striving to make his significant other feel valued and supported. Whether it's helping with chores, offering a listening ear, or simply being present and engaged, Leo would put forth his full effort to be the best partner he can be. His perfectionist tendencies might sometimes lead him to overthink or stress over getting every detail just right, but his genuine care and affection for his significant other would shine through, making every gesture, no matter how small, a heartfelt expression of his love and commitment.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leo is fiercely loyal and protective of his significant other, always putting their needs and safety first. However, his dedication to being a responsible leader often means he has trouble separating his roles, treating his partner more like a subordinate at times rather than an equal. His bad habit of constantly trying to emulate his fictional hero, Captain Ryan, can also grate on his partner's nerves. Despite his best intentions, Leo's tendencies to be overbearing, give too many unsolicited heroic speeches, and prioritize his duties over quality time together sometimes strain the relationship. His significant other loves his noble spirit but wishes he could loosen up more and be present in the moment instead of constantly playing the role of the wise leader. Still, they admire Leo's unwavering commitment to doing the right thing and support him, even when his heroic antics become a bit much.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

While Leo is dedicated to his ninjutsu training and being a responsible leader, he can't help but be a bit vain when it comes to his looks, especially around his significant other. He spends a little extra time making sure his mask is tied perfectly and his gear looks sharp before going out. Leo likes when his partner admires his toned physique that he works hard to maintain. However, his S/O finds Leo's concern over his appearance endearing rather than overbearing. They reassure him that he looks great no matter what and that his most attractive qualities are his bravery, loyalty, and caring nature as a leader and partner. With their support, Leo learns to not get too hung up on superficial looks and focuses more on being the best version of himself inside and out.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Leo deeply values his relationship with his s/o, who grounds him and provides emotional support amidst the pressures of leadership. While he tries to maintain a stoic front as the leader of the team, Leo's s/o sees his vulnerabilities and self-doubts. With them, he can let his guard down and find solace, comfort, and reassurance. His s/o reminds him not to be too hard on himself and encourages him to maintain balance in his life. Leo feels his s/o completes him – their unwavering belief in him bolsters his confidence, and their calming presence helps him stay centered. Without his s/o, Leo would likely feel incomplete, lacking that vital emotional anchor and source of unconditional acceptance that allows him to be his true self away from the weight of his responsibilities.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Leo sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady as he meditated. His mind was clear, focused solely on finding his inner peace and balance. Quietly, his s/o entered the room, smiling fondly at the sight of Leo in such a serene state. They admired how the soft light played across his green features, accentuating the strength in his jaw and the gentleness in his expression. Unable to resist, they padded over and knelt down beside him. Leaning in close, they placed a tender kiss on Leo's forehead, letting their lips linger for a moment. Leo's eyes fluttered open, surprised but meeting his s/o's loving gaze with a warm smile. Without a word, he reached out and pulled them into a soft embrace, holding them close as the world around them seemed to melt away. In that moment, there was only the two of them, connected by the powerful bond they shared. Leo's usual seriousness gave way to pure contentment as he basked in the affection of the one who held his heart.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Leo values discipline, focus, and responsibility, so he likely wouldn't appreciate recklessness, laziness, or a lack of commitment in a partner. As a dedicated leader, he may find it frustrating if his significant other is overly carefree or dismissive of rules and duties. Leo's protective nature means he probably wouldn't like someone who constantly puts themselves in harm's way or makes impulsive decisions without considering the consequences. While he appreciates his siblings' unique qualities, Leo's more serious demeanor could clash with a partner who is excessively goofy or immature. Additionally, his love for "Space Heroes" and desire for heroism might make him uncomfortable with someone who mocks his interests or fails to understand his values of honor and justice. Overall, Leo likely seeks a partner who shares his dedication, maturity, and sense of responsibility, while still balancing it with compassion and the ability to occasionally have fun.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Despite his disciplined nature, Leo is actually a restless sleeper when sharing a bed with his partner. He tosses and turns frequently throughout the night, often kicking off the covers or stealing them entirely. His ninja senses remain heightened even in slumber, causing him to startle awake at the slightest noise or movement. However, having his significant other by his side helps soothe Leo's active mind. He finds comfort in their warmth and steady breathing beside him. If they move closer and gently embrace him, it grounds Leo and allows him to sink into a more peaceful, undisturbed sleep. In the morning, he wakes refreshed, appreciating how his loved one's presence centered him through the night.

#tmnt 2012 leo #TMNT #TMNT 2012 #TMNT x reader #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 headcanons #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo #leonardo headcanons #leo x reader #leo headcanons

[temunitu]

I have nothing cool and interesting to say right now except I rewatched S5 episode "Fathers and Sons" of TMNT 2003 and I once again am screaming about HOW CUTE THE BABY TURTLES ARE OH MY GOD. I don't even know what I love more—Donnie and Leo living their best lives in that hay crate, Mikey CONSTANTLY attaching himself to Splinter and even staying by his side as his bros go play tag, or Donnie mustering up all his strength to throw that big rock at the Bone Demon. THERE ARE TOO MANY CUTE SCENES!!

YOU’RE WRONG ANON, THAT IS A VERY COOL AND INTERESTING THING TO SAY

here’s some papa rat hugs <3

#ask #anon #turtle tots #fathers and sons #tmnt 2003 #also i just rewatched ‘the lesson’ and i’m losing my mind at these boys as babies #they’re so good??? but they’re silly little mischievous guys #anyway thank you for sharing anon. you’re so correct #THE WAY SPLINTER CAN HOLD ALL FOUR OF THEM IN A HUG??? HELP

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄. 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟕𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“We’ve got a bleeder!” Phoenix whistles lowly, holding onto Bradley’s shoulders as she guides over the threshold of the nurse’s cabin. 

You’re standing at the sink, washing neosporin off your fingers after having to bandage up a few knees--it’s been a busy day. You’re running low on bandages already. 

Bradley smiles coyly, cheeks flushed, as he holds his hand upright. He’s bleeding profusely--so much so that Jake had to take several steps away from him instead of helping him--and the strip of Coyote’s cotton t-shirt isn’t doing much to staunch the blood.

“Big time,” you whistle, eyes widening at the sight of Bradley’s tanned forearm covered in blood. “Christ, Rooster. What’s you do? Hug the ax?” 

Rooster shakes his head, walking over to the examination table and plopping down on it with a heave. It feels good to sit down: even though it’s a cool seventy-five outside, swinging the ax all morning and most of the afternoon has really taken its toll. He’s drenched in dirt and sweat and knows that you’ll have to pick splinters out everyone’s hands later. He’s aching, the kind of ache that is exacerbated by the blood he’s losing and the kids he’s still trying to wrangle as all the male counselors take shifts working on breaking down the fallen oak tree. 

Phoenix leans against the table, smirking, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s going to internalize your conversation and tell Bob about it later: Bob still thinks that you and Jake are endgame, but she’s had her suspicions about the two of you for a few summers now. 

“Didn’t hug it,” Rooster says, leaning against the wall and wincing when his cut pulses. “Just made sweet love to it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you hurriedly slip into some latex gloves and shuffle over to Rooster. Instinctively, he spreads his meaty thighs for you and you stand between them. Sometimes the two of you just wordlessly click into place like this: Phoenix can’t wipe that smirk off her face. Bob’s gonna die when he hears this.  

“Must be pretty lame at it, then,” you tease, eyes narrowed as you begin to unwrap the blood-soaked cotton from his hand gingerly. “If you cut your hand and not your…” 

“Is it hot in here?” Phoenix asks suddenly, perching a brow. 

Rooster glares at her, ignoring the pain of you tenderly moving the makeshift bandage from his hand and onto the little metal dish you keep beside you. 

Your face is hot--you’d almost forgotten that Phoenix is still in here.

“A bit,” you answer, glancing at her from under your lashes.

“Here,” Phoenix offers. 

You aren’t sure what she’s offering until she’s pulling all your hair from your shoulders and pressing it against your head--banding it with the spare hairtie she always keeps on her. 

Rooster watches, content to not look at all the crimson blood dripping from his injury, and instead watch the way heat gathers across your chest and neck. You look very delicate with your hair up--your neck smooth and shapely like that of a preening swan. He can see it each and every time you swallow; it makes him want to reach out and press his palm there so he can feel all that spit going down, down, down. 

“Thanks a million,” you whisper to Phoenix, carefully taking Rooster’s hand as you tuck your lip between your teeth. 

The wound is gnarly--that’s for certain. It’s a four-inch slice on his left hand that starts between his middle and ring finger and stretches across his palm. But it’s longer than it is deep and you know after a few moments that he won’t be needing stitches--good. You don’t have it in you to stitch anyone up today. 

“Yuck,” Phoenix says, grimacing. 

“Oh, that makes me feel real good,” Rooster lips, narrowing his eyes at Phoenix. “I feel bunches better now. You’re a real pal.” 

Phoenix grins, patting Bradley’s shoulder. 

“What’re friends for, huh?”

Rooster rolls his eyes, watching as you delicately press down around the tender cut. 

“That hurt?” You ask. 

He nods, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. 

“Nope. Not at all,” he says, strained.

When you press down on a particular soft spot, he jolts a bit and sucks air in through his teeth, immediately dropping the tough-guy act. Fuck. So much for acting like a macho man in front of you. 

He can feel Phoenix’s grin from beside him.  

“Good,” you answer with a sigh. “Tissue isn’t dead. Nerves aren’t damaged. How’d this happen, anyway?” Then you press some gauze over it and glance at Phoenix, who looks tickled pink by this ordeal. “Do me a favor and press down, alright?” 

She does immediately--she isn’t like Jake. She doesn’t get squirmy at the sight of blood. But the warmth that’s pressing against her own palm as his wound keeps bleeding is decidedly yucky. Bob’s usually the one who deals with cuts and scrapes that you don’t need to address--he’s better at keeping them calm. Plus, he was a Boy Scout. She, of course, was a Girl Scout but never sold a box of cookies. 

“Blegh. This is a real barf bag scenario,” Phoenix mutters. Bradley thumps her with his good hand and she sticks her tongue out at him. “Hey, man, I’m the only thing standing between you and bleeding to death!” 

You move away from Bradley with a good-natured eye roll, wandering over to the cabinets. He holds his hand still, watching your dress shift over your body as you stretch to reach alcohol and petroleum jelly. 

“So?” You prompt again, pushing past the suture kits as you look for the rolls of bandages. “What’s the story?” 

Bradley almost doesn’t hear you. He’s watching the hem of your dress as it raises higher and higher up your thighs, your calves flexed as you reach up on your tip-toes. He wonders if he’s getting delirious from the blood loss, but then decides this is just always how he feels when he looks at you. 

“Loverboy,” Phoenix whispers, tugging on a sweaty curl of his before nodding at you. “Someone asked you a question!”

Bradley swallows, ignoring the blush in his cheek. He’s also trying hard to ignore the way the sunlight is kissing the exposed bits of your throat and chest, but it’s getting harder and harder. 

“Brought the ax down and let my hand slide up a bit too far,” Bradley answers, clearing his throat when he hears how thin his voice is. “Caught me just right, huh?” 

Nodding absently, you hum. 

“Where’d you burly men even get the axes? I didn’t think we had any,” you say, gathering all your first aid items and wandering back over to Phoenix and Rooster. 

“Paul,” Phoenix answers for Rooster, removing her hand from Rooster’s when you prompt her. “He keeps some in the maintenance shed, I guess. Said he hasn’t used ‘em in, like, two decades or some shit like that.” 

You whistle, feigning impression.

“So, we’re stuck here, huh?” You ask Bradley. “You know, until the tree gets moved.” 

Bradley nods. 

“Reckon it’ll be about a week.” 

You waggle your brows, smiling softly. 

“Spooky!” 

Just before you begin to pour some alcohol on a cotton pad, you glance at Phoenix. You know, without really knowing, that Rooster’s already having a hard enough time putting up and act for you. And if he so much as says ow! around Phoenix, he’ll never live it down.

“I’ve got it under control if you wanna get back to the rugrats,” you tell her with a kind smile, one that touches your eyes and your warm cheeks. “Consider your community service hours complete, yeah?” 

At that, Phoenix salutes, pressing her hair away from her sweat-stained face. 

“Just remember,” she taunts on her way out, grinning at Rooster, “sex is the most fun you can have without laughing.”

Before Rooster can flip her the bird, she’s walking back outside, the gravel crunching under her tennis shoes as she heads back towards Bob and their campers. Bob is eagerly awaiting her arrival already, squinting beneath the sun as the campers play another game of Red Rover. 

“So?” Bob asks when Phoenix falls in step beside him. “Lay it on me, sister.”

Phoenix, still smirking, crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Rooster and Nightingale for the win,” she says with a conceited shrug of her shoulders. She even plucks Bob’s sunglasses off his face, ignoring the fact that they’re prescription, and sits them over her own eyes. “They’re in l-o-v-e. They were practically making it when I left. Nightingale kicked me out.” 

Bob shakes his head, scoffing quietly. 

“Oh, is that right?” Bob asks, brow perched. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure Hangman and her were snuggling up last night before someone interrupted them!”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. 

“He was the one with the gun! We’ve got kids to protect!” She defends. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Morelike you’ve got an ego to protect,” he says, elbowing her playfully. “Hangman and Gale are practically married. Why else would he go running to her cabin when disaster struck?” 

When Phoenix doesn’t respond, shaking her head lightly, Bob grins. 

“Can it,” Phoenix warns, pointing a finger at him. Then she steps forward and holds hands with Sadie Pullman. “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Mister Bobby right over!”

“I’m not even playing,” Bob hisses. 

Phoenix grins, lets the glasses fall down on her nose. 

“Now you are,” she tells him. “Ride ‘em, cowboy!”

Back inside the nurse’s cabin, you’re carefully pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton to Rooster’s wound. He’s watching your movements diligently, preparing himself for the pain. It stings--but you’ve got a sweet touch. It’s nothing he can’t handle. 

“Hunky-dory up there?” You ask without looking away from his wound. “It’s gotta sting.” 

“I’m a man,” Rooster says, “I can take it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the petroleum jelly and carefully dab a q-tip in it before applying it to the wound. 

“Say, this gonna get me out of chopping that tree?” 

You hum. 

“If you want,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Rooster nods. “Why don’t you just tell everyone that you don’t want my hand to get infected. You know, like a doctor’s note or something!” 

“Nurse’s note,” you correct, unraveling the cotton bandage. 

“You say potato, I say potato,” Rooster sighs. “And tell everyone how brave I was, too, alright.” After a beat, he furrows his brows. “You do think I was brave, yeah?”

Wrapping his hand carefully, you can’t help but grin. 

“Yes, Rooster. You were very brave.”

Finally, you meet his eyes. He’s already looking at you--but then again, isn’t he always already looking at you? His brown eyes, the ones you think look strikingly like teddy bear eyes, are pouring into yours as they crinkle with joy. 

“What do I get for being brave?” He asks lowly. 

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’re flustered, heat coloring your face and sweat dotting the back of your neck. You can hear the wild game of Red Rover going on in the yard and the distant sound of ax’s coming down on the oak tree. Somewhere further away, you can hear the calling birds and the waves of the lake lapping against the gravel. 

“Bragging rights?” You try finally, your voice thin. 

Rooster squeezes his newly-bandaged hand.

“Not good enough,” he says decidedly. 

He’s closer to you now--you’re still standing between his legs and you can smell the salt on his skin and the thick scent of outside tangled in his curls. There are little beads of sweat in his mustache and he’s beginning to freckle across his nose from the sun. He’s inhaling you: the jasmine that perfumes your hair, the scent of laundry soap on your dress, the must that is sitting complacently under your arms and in the pits of your knees. He really, truly does like your stink--he wasn’t lying to you. 

“What do you want, then?” You ask. 

It feels like a loaded question. 

“A little birdie,” he whispers, throat dry. 

Without verbalizing it, you both immediately register that you’re thinking about the same thing: that musky summer night with your back against a tree, your leg hiked over his shoulder, the flat of his tongue pressed against your weeping hole, your underwear tucked in his back pocket, the scent of sweetgrass flooding the night air. 

“Huh,” you whisper, letting your palms rest on his knees. “I heard Fanboy and Payback are taking their tikes birdwatching if you--!”

The words die on your tongue when Rooster suddenly cups your cheek. His hand is warm, rough--calloused. These are the hands of someone who works hard. It makes a tingle wriggle its way down your spinal column and perch above your thighs. 

He presses his thumb against your bottom lip very carefully--it’s swollen from your teeth, warm and wet beneath the pad of his thumb. For a long moment, he just watches his own finger sit there against your naked mouth. You’re trying to keep your breathing regular and he’s trying not to let whatever blood he has left drain low in his body. 

“You’ve got such a pretty mouth,” he whispers to you. You swallow hard in tandem--your taste, what he can remember of it, is sitting thick and creamy on his tongue. “I’d like to fill it up.” 

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him--maybe it’s the blood loss, maybe it’s seeing you eat lunch with Jake yesterday, maybe it’s the fact that Jake got to you first when shit went down last night. But he feels like it’s imperative to tell you this, especially since Paul interrupted the two of you yesterday after the canoe incident. 

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to keep your voice from quivering. You squeeze your thighs together roughly, desperate for friction. “With what?” 

You’re taunting him now; he knows it. 

So, he scoots forward, lets his injured hand grip your hip. The jolt of pain that shoots up his arm is entirely worth it as he presses his hips against yours. He’s half hard already and there’s nothing in the world that could make him peel himself away from you--he doesn’t care who walks in, not when he’s this close to kissing you, not when you can feel what you do to him. 

Heart racing, you let your palms scoot up just a touch more, thumbs pressing into the meat of his thighs. He groans--it’s almost inaudible, but you hear it. 

Before he loses his nerve, before you two get interrupted, he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours. It’s the closest he’s been to you all summer--and this close, close enough to see the flecks of gold in your irises and the way your lashes stutter as you blink at him--and he thinks he might bust just from breathing in all your hot breath. 

“Birdie,” he mutters, lips ghosting over yours as you try to regain your natural breathing pattern. “You gotta let me kiss you. I think I’m gonna burst.” 

Swallowing hard, you glance down at his parted lips. He’s still cupping your cheek, his thumb pressing into the place where your jaw and neck meet. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Don’t think I’d be able to bandage that, huh?” 

He nods. 

“Right,” he answers, all breath and want. 

“So, it’s only the responsible thing to do, right?” 

Again, he nods. 

“Right.” 

A beat passes--you’re praying that no kiddo gets a splinter. 

“Then kiss me.” 

That’s all the prompting it takes: Bradley leans forward and lets his mouth cover yours. 

God, you can’t believe you’ve never been kissed by him before. His mouth is like a cushion against yours, his nose bumping yours as you let your eyes flutter shut and sink into the kiss. Instinctively, you reach for his neck, toying with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. And he just tightens his entire body, legs squeezing your hips, semi-hard cock pressing into your belly, fingers digging into the delicate skin of your throat. 

And Bradley can’t believe he’s never been brave enough to do this--who the fuck eats a girl out unsuccessfully before they kiss her? Bradley supposes he’s a guy who does that. And any other time, the thought would make him dizzy. But right now, all he can think about is the way your tongue feels against his bottom lip, the way you’re tugging on his curls. 

“We better stop,” he mumbles against your lips, not stopping. 

You nod, but keep him close to you. 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “We better.” 

Rooster can’t take it anymore--he has to be closer to you. So, he wraps you up close to him and presses your chest against his. He lets his injured hand grip the curve of your waist and oh, God, he wishes he could have more of you. He knows it’s selfish, he knows he should take what he has and nurture it, but he wants every single bit of you now. He wants to put his hands beneath that cotton dress, wants to grab onto the makeshift ponytail, wants to press his fingers inside of your body. 

“Gonna get in trouble,” he mutters into your mouth. 

You nod, nipples hardening against his t-shirt. 

“Uh huh,” you respond, shuddering breaths falling from your mouth and into his. 

Neither of you hear Susie approach the nurse’s cabin. She’s wearing those strange soft-soled shoes her mom always packs, the ones that make virtually no noise when she’s approaching, even if she’s walking on gravel. She’s been standing in the doorway for a few moments now, hands limp at her sides, eyes narrowed as the sun beats down on her. She’s seen her parents kiss a few times before--but nothing like this. 

When Rooster’s hand slides away from your jaw and falls down your body, nudging the hem of your dress up the back of your thigh, she raises her eyebrows. 

“Doesn't that tickle Nurse Nightingale?” Susie asks. 

You and Bradley nearly jump out of your skin, identically ripping apart from each other and whirling your vision towards the door. And there little Susie stands, toeing the rock that keeps the door propped open.

“I was just taking Mister Rooster’s temperature,” you tell Susie, flustered as ever before. Rooster is still holding onto your waist.  

“Susie,” Rooster says, eyes wide. You have the good sense to keep yourself in front of him, shielding his halfie from Susie’s gaze. “Jeez, chickadee! Didn’t even hear you coming! Aren’t you a sneaky snake?”

At the mention of her favorite campfire song, Susie perks. 

“Want me to sing Sneaky Snake?” Susie asks, grinning. 

Before you or Rooster can answer, still shocked at her sudden appearance, she breaks out in song. She isn’t very good at memorizing things yet--so the lyrics are broken, but filled with passion. She even does the snake gestures, bobbing her head along as she sings for you and Rooster. 

The two of you are entirely too stunned to speak, throats dry. It doesn’t help that you’re still pulsing for each other, breaths caught between your teeth. 

“But he’ll sneak up behind you!” Susie croons, hopping over the threshold and wiggling her body in her rendition of a snake--which looks a lot like some sort of half-hearted belly dance. “And drink all your root beer!”

“Wow,” you grin. “That was really good--!” 

“I’m not done,” Susie interrupts, halting in her dancing and staring at you blankly. 

“Sorry,” you answer meekly. 

Rooster stifles his laughter, squeezing your waist.

But Susie has forgotten about her song and dance when she notices that Rooster is still holding onto you. 

“Is that a nice touch?” She asks, pointing to his fingers digging into your skin. 

Rooster immediately releases you and you scramble to hold your hands on your hips. 

“Yes,” you answer. But you’re not sure what else to say. 

“I was just making sure Nurse Nightingale’s got all her ribs!” Rooster tells Susie. He presses his fingers against your ribs and you raise your arms above your head in compliance. “Yup! All twelve are on this side!” 

“Say, thanks, Mister Rooster!” You tell him with an embarrassed grin. “Could’ve sworn I lost one grabbing that canoe!”

Susie stares at the two of you, unimpressed. 

“How?” She asks. 

You swallow hard. Rooster’s looking at you now, trying to bite his grin. 

“Yeah, how did I do that again, Mister Rooster?” You ask, biting your lip and glancing at him. 

Ball’s in his court now.

“Oh, well, I think it was when you, uh, like--!” Rooster clears his throat shrugging his shoulders pathetically. “When Nurse Nightingale here…uh, when she--!” 

“Susie!” Fanboy pants, suddenly appearing behind Susie with his cheeks full of color. “Girl, I’ve been looking for you! You can’t just wander off!” 

Susie looks up at her surrogate counselor for the afternoon, equally unimpressed. 

“I was watching-watching Nurse Nightingale take Mister Rooster’s temperature,” she answers. 

The heat in your cheeks makes you fairly certain that you could start a fire just by pressing your face against some kindling. Rooster is sheepishly smiling at Fanboy as he smirks at the two of you. 

“Oh, yeah? Feeling okay, Mister Rooster?” 

Susie steps onto Fanboy’s shoes and holds onto his arm, smiling softly at him as he puts an arm over her shoulder. 

“He’s okay! But-but Nurse Nightingale thought she lost a rib!” 

“The Adam’s rib,” you answer pathetically, unable to meet Fanboy’s delighted gaze. “False alarm.”

“Totally tracks,” Fanboy says, winking at Rooster. “Well, I’ll let you two keep playing doctor!”

And just as soon as Fanboy is trudging away with Susie still holding onto his leg, you’re deflating. Holding your hands over your face and groaning, you lean against Rooster’s shoulder. 

“Susie is a strange little thing, huh?” He says, laughing quietly. “Oughta put a bell on her.”

You can’t even form words yet. You’re still too embarrassed. 

Rooster pats your back, breathing through the remainder of his embarrassment before he pinches your hip. 

“Guess I should book it outta here before someone else comes a-knockin’, huh?” 

You just nod mutely, pointing towards the open door. 

He hops off the exam table, stretching his body out. Kissing you seems to have regenerated all the blood he lost, even if it’s a tad misplaced. He grins at you and attempts to peel your hands from your face--but you don’t budge. 

“Aw, c’mon, bird,” he laughs. “One more kiss for the road?” 

“Kiss my ass,” you mutter, turning your back to him to walk towards the sink and away from your humiliation. 

But what you aren’t expecting is for Bradley to immediately comply, hooking his arms around your waist and dropping to his knees. He’s grinning something fierce as he starts to hike your dress up, pulling your body against his. 

“No!” You hiss, batting his hands away. “Bad! Bad chicken!”

♀ 

You’re nestled between Phoenix and Bob, munching on your second smore, as the fire roars ahead of you. It’s a celebration of sorts--celebrating the cool night breeze that’s tickling your noses and flushed cheeks, celebrating and eradicating the chopped up wood despite not even a quarter of the fallen oak being moved. 

“How’s that rib, honey?” Fanboy asks, leaning forward and winking at you from beside Phoenix. 

He offers you the brandy bottle you’ve been passing around and you snatch it from him, biting a smile. He’s been teasing you and Rooster all night, which has delighted everyone except Jake. 

“Intact,” you answer, nose upturned. 

You sip from the bottle, grimacing as the liquid slides down your throat. You’re the kind of warm that has more to do with the alcohol than the roaring fire, loose enough to let your hair fall down and slip off your jelly shoes, digging your bare feet in the mud. 

“You gonna fill us in on what happened or…?” Coyote prompts, shrugging an arm over Hangman’s shoulder. “‘Cause I’m just dying to know why Rooster was checking your ribs.” 

“Nope,” you answer, smiling. Your eyes are shining in the flames, glossy and sweet. “Guess you’re gonna have to perish.” 

“Ice cold, honey,” Coyote hoots, his grin broad. 

Jake’s skin is hot with annoyance when he spots Rooster’s slight smirk. He’s watching Rooster watch you, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

What the fuck does Rooster have that he doesn’t? A perm? An injury? Worse motor skills?  

“Don’t kiss and tell?” Phoenix tries, elbowing your side.

Jake watches the way Rooster’s cheeks suddenly turn pink, the way his eyes fall from your own to your lips. Fuck. He knows the two of you kissed. He just knows it. And that makes his collar feel impossible tighter.

“Cool it,” Javy whispers to Jake, squeezing his arm. “Work on your laser vision another time, brother. We can’t be short-staffed this summer!”

Jake grumbles, shrugging himself out from under Coyote’s arm. 

“Can it,” he hisses. But he crosses his arms tersely all the same. “Like I even care.”  

Javy could say a lot of things right now: he could bring up the fact that Jake carries a polaroid of the two of you in his wallet year-round, one where he’s holding you on his shoulders and you’re both grinning; he could bring up the fact that their beds are right beside each other and he can see in the dark; he could bring up the fact that everyone and their motherfucking mama knows that Jake has the hots for you. But because he’s a good friend, he just tussles Jake’s hair. 

“That’s a trap,” Bob snorts. “Don’t answer that!” 

“Aye-aye,” you say with a grin, saluting. “So, how many splinters does everyone have?” 

After successfully moving the conversation towards the men, who are more than happy to complain about their injuries from doing men’s work all morning and most of the afternoon, your gaze finally lands on Jake. He’s watching you from across the fire, a flame you’re unfamiliar with flickering in his blown pupils. 

“Hi,” you mouth. 

He nods, lips flat. 

A stone sinks in your belly at the thought of Jake being mad at you. The intensity of his gaze makes your chest feel like it’s on fire--so much so that you have to break your eyes from his, take another drink of brandy, and look up at the star-speckled night sky. 

Already you felt like you were going to be torn in half by the time August comes; now you’re beginning to wonder if you’ll even make it that long. 

It’s just after midnight when you walk into your cabin, jelly sandals hooked on your fingers. You’re a bit tipsy, but not tipsy enough to skew your aim as you throw your sandals by your suitcase. You don’t bother turning the light on in the cabin--you’re planning on just hitting the hay anyway. Besides, you don’t have a book to warrant a reading light for. 

When you’re alone like this after being around your friends and campers all day, you always expect to feel lonesome when you’re in your cabin. But ever since that nightmare, the very first one where you were doused in blood and watching a black figure contort by the kitchen door in the mess hall, you have a precarious feeling that you’re not alone at all. 

You’re a logical woman and you know, thoroughly, that it must be your brain playing tricks on you. There’s no one--and nothing--outside of these screened-in windows besides your friends, your kiddos, and Paul. You’re certain that no one would wanna watch you, anyway--what would they see? You slipping into flannel pajamas and snoring?

Just as you sigh, shaking your bonfire-stained hair out and starting for your bed, a sharp knock fills the cabin. 

Straining through the dark, you glance over your shoulder. Through the dim glow of the dying fire, you’re only just able to make out Jake’s figure in the dark. 

“Hey,” you whisper, crossing your arms and setting your hand on the door-pull. “How’s it hanging, man?” 

You grin at your own pun, but Jake doesn’t move. He’s just watching you with his arms crossed and his lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Invite me in,” he says, voice low. 

You blink through the dark, brows coming together. 

“Huh?”

“Invite me in,” he repeats. 

“What are you? Dracula? Just come in--!” 

“Gale,” Jake interrupts, tone dripping with severity. “Just fucking invite me in, huh?” 

Silently, you open the door. He’s standing there with his ringer shirt and little red shorts, looking taller and broader than ever before. His mouth is a serious flat line and his eyes are narrowed just so. 

There’s suddenly a fire in your belly. 

“Come in,” you whisper, hardly audible. 

Come in, he does. 

He doesn’t waste a moment of time, crossing the threshold, closing the door behind him and locking it. You’re trying to swallow, but your mouth feels coated in sand now. He’s so close to you that when you inhale, your breasts press against his chest. 

“Did he kiss you?” He asks. He sounds lethally serious--so serious that your palms are beginning to sweat. “Huh?” 

Brows knit, you shift your weight to your right hip and stare up at him, jaw squared. 

“Who wants to know?” You whisper. 

“Me,” he answers. “Real bad.”

He’s already made his decision. He’s going to show you why you should choose him and not Rooster. He’s going to show you just how fucking good he can make you feel. And here, shrouded in the dark of the night, he knows for certain that you won’t be interrupted. 

He’s watching you carefully, registering every minuscule movement. The way you’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, the way you’re shifting your weight, the way you're squeezing your thighs together. 

“Answer me,” he says. Then he swallows and blinks at you. “Please.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “He did.” 

That’s all it takes for Jake. He moves swiftly, bypassing you and moving to all your screened-in windows. Wordlessly, he draws the curtains, which causes dust to plume around him. He doesn’t mind, though--he just continues closing them until you and him are entirely alone in the privacy of your cabin. No one in the world can see the two of you now. 

You’re watching him, growing wet just from the sight of his biceps rippling as he tears the curtains closed. Then he’s just looking at you, standing beside your bed, chest tight. 

“Will you get on the bed?” He asks. 

Even though it’s posed as a question, it sounds more like a command--but it’s one you’re blindly following, your heart fluttering with a strange sort of excitement.

You sit at the end of the bed, knees pushed together. 

Jake towers over you, already growing hard at your compliance. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asks. 

His voice is softer now--like he knows it would make you vulnerable, like he knows that you can back out whenever you want and he will accept it entirely.

Wordlessly, you nod. Arousal is starting to pool in your belly now, dripping down into your panties. 

He undresses you slowly, like it’s something he wants to savor. First he takes the hair tie off your wrist, kisses the skin there. Then he reaches behind your neck, unbuttons the flimsy clasp at the top of your dress. He lifts it off your body carefully, discarding it on the floor. His chest is already tight at just the image of you in your panties and underwear, sitting below him with your thighs squeezed together, your eyes wide. 

“You alright?” He asks. 

Nodding at once, you don’t dare speak. 

So, he reaches down and pushes the white strap of your bra off your shoulder. He keens at the sound you make, the one that is close to a gasp. And then he grazes his fingers across your chest to push the other one down. 

“Fuck,” you whisper softly. 

Your skin is goosed from his touch. Fuck, he’s never touched you like this before. He’s always been too goofy, too fun, too flirty. But this is a new side of him--one that makes your breathing unsteady, one that makes your head spin.

He reaches behind you, unclasps your bra, and watches as it falls off your body and into your lap. You’re breathing harshly, unable to break your gaze from his. He’s your rock right now, holding you down on the bed, holding you against the earth. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he tells you, jaw set like this fact makes him angry. “And I just want you to be mine right now, alright?”

You open your mouth, ready to quip something, but close it when he starts to sink to his knees. You can’t speak--all you can do is puff those hot breaths in the air before you. 

“Say it,” he whispers, completely on his knees now, his eyes level with yours. “I wanna hear you say that you’re just mine right now.” 

Maybe that’s what’s making Jake so fucking hot right now--you’ve never been just his. He’s growing hard just at the thought. 

“I’m yours right now,” you whisper. 

And then everything moves at hyperspeed. 

As soon as the words are falling off your lips, he’s wrapping you up in his arms, securing arms around your waist and holding onto you so tight that it knocks the air out of your lungs. He’s pulling you towards him, one jerking and swift movement, and he’s suddenly between your legs and feverishly kissing all the exposed skin of your neck and chest. 

“Oh,” you whisper, all breath. “God.” 

Jake’s letting his mouth work quicker than his brain. He’s drinking all of you in at once, letting his lips memorize every mark on your skin, all the places you’ve gotten chills, keening when you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” he whispers against your skin. “Just hold onto me now, honey, alright?” 

You nod wordlessly, mouth utterly and fantastically dry. 

Then he’s got your nipple in his mouth, a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, but one that makes your entire body jolt as a shockwave of pleasure pulses through you. He’s sucking harshly, hardly giving you time to moan or recover before he’s leaving a sloppy and wet trail of kisses across your breasts and to your other nipple. 

“Jesus fucking--!” You whimper, fingernails staining half-crescents into his shoulders. 

As he mercilessly sucks your nipple, watching your face pull together in unadulterated pleasure, he snakes a hand between your legs and presses two fingers against your heat. You squirm against him, throwing your head back, and he nips lightly at your pert nipple. 

“Tell me how wet I’m making you,” he demands, voice low. “Wanna hear you say my name.” 

“Can’t you feel it?” You whisper pathetically, heat pooling in your cheeks. “Fuck, I--!” 

He presses down harder, locating that sweet nub through the thin cotton of your soaked panties, and you’re reeling, panting. 

“Jake,” you whimper. “Fuck, you’re making me so wet.” 

Not Bradley, Jake thinks. Me. I’m the fucking man.    

“Good girl,” he mutters. 

And just to prove how good you are, he slips his two fingers inside of your underwear and languidly strokes your cunt. Fuck, you really are wet--desperate for it, silky and wanting for him. 

“Oh, my God,” you mutter, biting your lip hard. 

He keeps sucking on your nipples, stroking your heat at a grueling pace, one that makes your hips cant into his hand. Your head is spinning, pleasure so overwhelming that it feels like you’re holding your body beside an open flame. 

“This where you want me?” Jake asks, muffled by the ample skin of your breast. He presses his fingers against your clit and rubs slow and methodical circles that have you writhing on the sheets, against his body. “You want me right here, honey?” 

When you don’t respond, Jake moves away from you. You begin to whine, but in only a moment, he’s pushing your chest until you’re falling back on the bed. Then he’s tearing your underwear off, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs as you lay naked before him for the first time. 

If you weren’t here, in this cabin, he would treasure seeing you like this. Your skin flushed, your lips parted, your brows knit, your eyes shut. But he is so desperate for you, so desperate to prove to you and everyone else that he can be what you want. He can be what you need. 

Again, he hooks your legs around his arms and swiftly pulls you to the end of the bed until your bottom is hanging off. 

“Look at me,” he commands. 

You peer down at him, the very lining of your belly quivering as his hot breaths hit your heat. 

“I want it,” you whisper, seemingly reading his mind. 

“Want what?” 

“I want you to go down on me.” 

Ever the Southern gentleman, Jake immediately complies with what his lady wants. He dives right into your cunt, lapping at your arousal, sucking on your swollen clit. You have to slap a hand over your mouth too keep from waking up the entire camp. 

There’s something so vulnerable about this--him between your legs, his knees on the floor of your cabin, his clothes intact and yours not, your lashes fluttering as you try to keep your eyes open and on his, your cunt pressed against his tongue--that almost makes you want to bow down and be his forever. 

His mustache scratches deliciously at the sensitive skin of your clit, coated in your wetness, as he delves his tongue into your sopping entrance. 

You taste just like he thought you would: real, clean, good. So fucking good that he can feel the pearly drops of precum gathering in his briefs.   

“Grind against my face,” he commands. 

And you can do nothing but comply, pushing yourself against his face. Fuck, this is exactly what Jake likes. He likes to feel the pressure of your hips as you desperately press yourself against him. He likes that you feel malleable right now, like he can tell you what to do and you’ll do it. 

He’s fisted his cock so many times to the simple thought of this that he knows he’s not going to last very long. 

When your tingers tangle themselves in his locks, he rewards you by lapping rapidly at your clit. He knows you’re close already--virgins usually cum quick, anyway--when your moans get high and breathy, when your thighs become his earmuffs. 

Desperate for friction, he pushes his cock against the bed. It’s not soft, that’s for sure, but it will absolutely do right now. 

“Jake,” you mutter, thighs quivering. “Oh, my God. Oh--oh, fuck, I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“I want you to,” he tells you, moaning when you tug harshly on his locks. “I want you to cum all over my face, honey. I wanna make you cum.” 

At his words, your breathing becomes rapid and uneven. He reaches forward, still hugging your thigh with his bicep, and lays his flat hand on your belly. He presses down and the pressure of it all has you seeing bursts of technicolor. 

“Say my name,” he commands, his own grinding growing sloppy and uneven as he laps at your cunt. “Say my name when I make you cum.” 

In an act of wretched rapture, you fist his locks and guide his face against your cunt roughly. It makes him moan, which vibrates your cunt deliciously. He presses down harder on your belly, his fingers digging into the supple skin of your thigh, his tongue rigid as it flicks your clit. 

“Jake,” you groan. 

Suddenly, you’re almost insecure. You’ve never cum with anyone before except yourself. Rooster got close, but never this close. You’re shivering, too close to the edge to do anything except teeter there. And Jake seems to register this, watching you through his lashes. 

“Work your cunt against my face,” he orders. “Want you to cum now, honey. Cum for me.” 

It is more than enough to drive you over the edge. You writhe above him, body convulsing. Your chest heaves, your fingernails burrow into Jake’s scalp, your thighs tense, your eyes squeeze shut tight. He works you through it, not ceasing any of his movements, even when he blows his load right into his underwear. And you didn’t even touch him. 

“Stop, stop,” you hiss, overly sensitive after cumming. Your ears are ringing, your chest is hot. “Fuck, Jake. Holy fuck.” 

He gives it a rest, staying between your legs, coming down from his own high as he lets his cheek rest on the lowest part of your belly. You keep your hands in his hair, stroking softly, trying to rid yourself of the shivers that are still working their way up your spine. 

“How was that?” Jake asks. You jolt at the very feeling of his breath against your clit and he raises his head apologetically, nodding to your cunt. “Aftershocks,” he tells you. 

He kisses your clit a final time, a move that makes you want to kick his jaw and pull him closer, before he lets your legs fall to the floor. 

“Literally came my fucking pants just watching you cum,” Jake says, sitting on his haunches. 

You grin, cheeks hot, as you sit up on your elbows and glance down at his lap. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain on his shorts. 

“Someone’s got a crush,” you whisper. 

He shrugs with a grin. 

“Uh huh,” he whispers. 

You two watch each other for a moment, still recovering. His mouth glistens with your arousal and it makes you hold your legs together tightly. 

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” you say. “No more Mr. Nice Guy, huh?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip. 

“Nope,” Jake answers. “Lemme clean you up, honey.” 

You’re expecting him to retrieve a towel of some sort, but then he’s spreading your legs again, peppering your thighs with chaste kisses as he nears your heat. 

“Christ,” you mutter, throwing your arm over your eyes. “You’re killing me.”  

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I GIGGLE EVERY SINGLE TIME I WRITE SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS NORMAL BUT HAS HORRIFIC UNDERTONES

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

#cruel summer #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #jake seresin x you #Bradley Bradshaw x you #horror au #80s slasher au #nightingale #summer camp au #dagger squad #tgm #tgm au #tgm fanfiction #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #robert bob floyd #reuben payback fitch #Jake Seresin x you x Bradley Bradshaw #hangster love triangle #female reader

[tblsomedoodles]

Is there any specific way Leon would cope with Dee being gone apart from the tunnel thing? Like say they had the bandanas and stuff when Dee goes maybe he looses it during the thing with Hob and Leo keeps it

Unfortunately, i don't think they had their bandannas yet so he didn't really have anything like that to loose. I think the only thing left behind in that tunnel at the time was the large sponge he kept tied to his back.

I think when it first happens, Blue is pretty quiet. He's not entirely sure what happened. He knows he was racing his twin through the sewers and they ran into a big cat monster. That it called them lunch and they ran. he heard Purple scream and he turns to find he got caught. That he stopped, b/c he was scared and didn't want to leave without his twin. But the cat monster didn't stop. it was still coming for Blue, who by then, wouldn't be able to get away fast enough even if he tried. He noticed Purple looked terrified even as he started to glow, well, purple. Then a ring of purple light appeared between him and the cat monster (between him and Purple) and when it disappeared, they were gone.

Blue doesn't understand that it was a portal, that his twin was so scared of Hob getting him too that he accidentally opened one with the thought of sending them anywhere else. He just knows his brother was there one second, and now he's not.

He tells it all to Splinter when he's found, but in the terrified ramblings of a four year old who didn't understand what he was seeing. Splinter interprets it as the cat mutant killed Purple (and that Blue may or may not have seen it.) And that's how he explains it to the boys. That Purple is gone. He died. He can't come back.

I don't think Blue was fully convinced Purple was dead, but then again, he didn't know what else it could be. Splinter knows everything. He had to be right.

ANyways, brief detour aside, Blue is very quiet after Purple disappears. (i have a semi-headcannon that the twins both go non-verbal when something like this happens. idk why. Just do. so Blue's probably not talking a lot, if at all, in the following months.) He was pretty traumatized by the whole ordeal and Splinter doesn't really know how to handle that, so he doesn't. Instead Red and Orange try to help. Red comforts him when the nightmares wake him up and holds him tight as he cries. Orange makes sure he gets as many hugs as he can stand, and tries to make him feel better by giving him thing like pictures or offering him the first slice of pizza. it helps but it's still no Purple coming back.

...i got derailed again. OK. Actual answer now!

Leon coping with Dee being gone!

I think, part of how he copes with Dee being gone is doing the mechanical work around the lair (at least later on.) Like maybe Purple's been gone a year or when they find a tech book of some sort, something Leon would know Purple would have liked. So he reads it and even though it's not exactly his thing, it reminds him of his twin so he learns about the tech stuff and starts working on things around the lair. He knows that if Purple were there, he'd be doing all these things like taking apart the toaster or just keeping their heater running, so it feels nice doing them in his stead.

thank you!

#asks #tmnt #rottmnt #adopted donnie au #i really hope i answered the question lol #i'm apparently rambling today

[ducknotinarow]

[2k12 - yeet]

Casey smiles as he walks up behind Raph, lank limbs encircling them in a warm hug. He grabs his own wrist with his hand, locking Raph in, though eh could probably escape easily if he really wanted to. Head tilted, Casey resting his cheek on top of their head. He idly sways back and forth as he holds them, just, enjoying the subtle coolness their body brings - he always was one that preferred ice to sun.

After a moment, he lifts his head, only to move to bend his neck down and press a kiss to their cheek, letting it linger for a second, before merely murmuring against their skin,

"Yer beauty never ever scared me."

He never said it enough, but he really did think Raphael was beautiful in their own right. Casey adores them. From their emerald green eyes, to the way their beak would curl into a faint smirk. It was all so perfect to him, as he holds them a little tighter, nuzzling his face against their own, proving he was being extra soft today,

"An' I'll never let yer go," He promises, "'Cause yer my Princess, so that makes me yer Prince, an' I gotta make sure my Princess is reminded every day how much I love 'em."

| Muse interaction

Sure going out to break up trouble was always a blast and fun, not to mention always helped to work out some stress. From dealing with annoying brothers, or something stupid that happened at school or in training for Raph. Or just literally anything that could get under either of their skins. Splinter always told Raph he should let it roll off his back, that never worked for him he needed to burn it off to cool down. Sometimes just kind of messing around with your boyfriend was another answer, Casey always seemed able to cool Raph down when his temper ran just a tad to hot. As they easy skate circled around Raph as he was trying to beat them to the goal they set up with some trash cans in the alleyway. Of course Casey was better at hockey than Raph but, it was still fun when they played street hockey like this. Playful bumping into each other and taking hits as they took turns scoring and blocking the other. Or simply an excuse to tackle the other to the ground all in the name of the game.

Raph couldn't help how it just sort of made him laugh to mess around like this. They had to be serious so much and yeah he got why and yeah he was also one of the more serious of the four at times but also sometimes he still wanted to enjoy something as simple as just getting to fun and jack around with his boyfriend. When they slammed into him and knocked him clean over, only for Raph to grab one of Casey lanky long legs and take advantage of the wheels on his shoes to decided he wasn't going down alone. soon just laughing more as he shifted to get up now pushing Casey off of himself with a bit more force than really needed.

"Get off me dork" Raph moving to sit up now as he playful punched Casey in the shoulder "An' you say I fight dirty dick." There was not a trace of malice in his tone. "C'mon best outta I dunno how many round think you need to beat me wit' out cheatin?" Raph teases as if Casey wasn't the one with both the advantage or lead in their game right now.

Shifting his weight as he moved to stand up now, hand held out to help said dork back up as well. Raph waiting as Casey pulled in against his hold to help lift himself back up to his feet. Raph waited till they were stable enough but still low to lean in a little press his beak in quickly against Casey's cheek. As he pulled harder against them and helped them stand up right. Slight laughed breathed out as he let go of them and eyed out for the hockey stick and puck they were using. Moving from Casey's side once he found them so they could get back into their little game with each other. When he hears wheels suddenly move after him. Raphael was half expecting Casey to come and tackle him again, so he stood firmly against the ground, ready to grab and toss his boyfriend to the ground. But as Casey's arms instead slipped around and encircled him in a tight hug. Raph slightly tried to lift his gaze upwards when he felt Casey's head rest on top his own, as they held on to him firmly. Even slowly started to rock Raphael with them left and right.

Raph wasn't against the hold, closing his eyes even as he relaxed into it further. He could easily break free from it after all if he wanted. But he was rather enjoying it leaning back in against Casey as he soaked in their warmth. Always seemed like a fair trade-off between them. Casey loved the cold, and Raphael, being a turtle natural, ran cold. Where Raphael himself performed warmth and Casey seemed more than happy to let him steal from them. Raph, not even sure how long they stay like that till he can feel Casey's lips press in his cheek. Break cryling up into a grin as he slightly laughs.

"Okay well now ya bein' gay." He simply teases despite the warmth he can feel creeping over his face now. Playfully giving a push. Sort of a push, there was no strength in the action as he tried to keep his face looking off to the side in an attempt to hide the look he was wearing now. It's not like Casey wasn't affectionate nor Raphael even, even anything shockingly they were both pretty soft with the other didn't mean it didn't make that usual air of confidence the turtle strutted around with, be coved in a veil of shyness for the briefest of time.

"Yer beauty never ever scared me."

Raph froze a second as he felt caseys mouth move against his skin, a slightly tingle over his neck as he picked up on their vocal vibrations. That veil more of a sheet now as he slightly turned to face Casey now. Eyes a little wide. He was used to the other complaments, but that was...different. a very good different.

"Case?" Raph slightly voices as he turns to look at them. As Casey moves to nuzzle in against his face. Raph can't help the low soft churr that bubbles from the back of his thoart. Moving to nuzzle in back against then. As he eyes shut and he let his snout press to Casey's nose. Thanks to them leaning down, he could press their forhead together right after. So easily coaxed into returning the same sap.

Raph knows his face is clearly painted red now the hope to keep it away gone as he soaks in and welcomes his sappy boyfriend's sudden affection. Moving to turn in towards Casey. Letting arms move to hold around them and keep in close to Casey. Raph loved when they got just a tad softer like this with him, even if it made him sort of crack and expose just how much he craved it. But that was something only Casey got to know and see.

"An' I'll never let yer go,"

Raph let his eyes part a little, as his smile softened a little sheepish as he couldn't even think what to say. Casey made his brain shut off a little, so he just lifted his hands to grip on to the back of their tattered hoodie. Showing he knew Casey meant that promise. That collar on their neck was enough proof for the turtle, but hearing it? Yeah, it was nice. Stupid Casey turly was turning up the charm today and making Raoh meal in again them well and over all because of it. Considering how Raph viewed Casey made sense, they held charm over him, though.

"'Cause yer my Princess, so that makes me yer Prince, an' I gotta make sure my Princess is reminded every day how much I love 'em."

"Prince?"

As sweet as that was, it made Raphs eyes snap open as he slightly jerked back, not breaking from Casey's hold still. Hands moving from behind them to grab the front of their hoodie. Slightly tugging them down a bit.

"Alright who told you about that!" Raph now demands from Casey to spill. "Was it Leo? Now could be I'd never tell I see you as a prince. It was Don uh?! Hmm no pretty sure he can't read my thoughts when I think it? Mikey it had to be Mikey he showed you the drawings didn't he!". Raph was ready to accuse his boyfriend of doing all of the before to simply call him out but the look on thker face when he shift attetion back?

"Oh...I did." He voices softly between them when he reliezed Casey was simply claiming it because they liked to call him princess.

And Raph just outted he already saw them as said prince. Slowly letting go of them as his fave turned redder than his mask was even, he swears there could be steam working out his head just now from how hot his face was feeling. As he simply planted his face in against thker chest, craving death at that moment. Maybe Casey would be nice enough to bury him in the woods near his family's farmhouse. He loved it there after all. Be a nice resting spot. Slightly tapping a fist against Casey in a very weak punch. Words were gone he was not going to recover from that now. As he basically stated, this was his stupid charming princes fault. Soon turn it around to grab on to Casey.

Sure, he was embarrassed in all truth over it, but he wanted them to know he wasn't against what they said. Slightly managing to lifted his face a bit as he turned his head to the side to rest his cheek against Casey's chest peering up at them. Green eyes slowly working the courge to look at at Casey.

"Ya you are my prince."

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first aflockoffeathers] #[2012 verse] #muse interacction #stayed qeued #((look casey your clearly his prince you charmed him hard uwu))

[chiliiscereal]

Okay, apparently my brain has nothing better to do, so I got a SINGLE prompt for ya. U ready?

...✨Living with the turtles✨

Rottmnt headcanon: living with the turtles

———

-living with the turtles is both fun and... not XD

-lets be really, Mikeys an early bird!

-you simply can’t sleep in past 8 there’s just no way

-Mikey wakes up every morning like it’s Christmas

-“there’s stuff to do today! You can’t be a slug and stay in bed! Move move move!”

-lots of jumping on your bed until you wake up

-usually everyone eating breakfast together is not a thing, as everyone is usually doing their own thing

-but if you cook anything you better be ready for all the turtles to ask for some

-you’re also now the honorary judge for literally every single competition

-need someone to judge who can do the best kick flip?

-you’re their human

-need someone to see who can balance more fridge items on your chin?

-there you are

-lots of working with splinter in that field

-you’re also the one who anyone else goes to for validation

-for some reason you can’t understand, they can never compliment each other’s work

-“hey I need you to look this over, tell me if there’s anything wrong with it, possibly-.”

-“compliment you about your work?”

-“well, if you insist.”

-will drag you to his lab or drag his lab work to you so you can admire it

-doesn’t matter if you’re reading or sleeping

-when he’s ready for you to see it then you’re ready to see it

-“it’s literally 1 am.”

-“come on get up I need you to compliment my work!”

-“alright just stop pulling on me!”

-as for GIVING attention he’s not very good at it

-he’ll try, that’s for sure

-but heaven knows he won’t compliment you to your face

-the only physical affection you receive is if he goes to you first for help

-“I only need you because I need you to hold these wires and you have more fingers than you know what to do with.”

-it’s not just Donnie though.

-it’s Mikey as well

-“look at what I drew!”

-“wow this is awesome! How long did it take?”

-“oh... about an hour?”

-“that’s really good!”

-“really?”

-will even ask you to put it on the fridge

-you give in and get a bulletin board in your room for him to pin all his work

-it’s covered with his drawings by the end of the week

-needs lots and lots of hugs

-randomly jumps on your back for a piggy back ride

-you gotta be ready for him at any given moment or else you’re both gonna end up on the floor

-and who could forget Leo

-not you that’s for sure

-he’s make sure you’d never forget he needed attention

-Leo’s definetely the type of guy to get ready to pull a stunt and dedicate it to you before doing it

-“for Y/n’s honor!”

-“Leo you’re gonna break you’re neck if you do that!”

-“it’s for your honor so it’s okay!”

-jumps out from every corner to scare you

-can never seem to get you to flinch

-this boy’s gonna get you to jump one day though

-don’t be surprised if he walks up next to you and just casually rests his elbow on your head or drapes an arm over your shoulder

-will randomly poke your side just to see you jump

-Raphs no better than his brothers in the attention department

-especially with weight lifting

-“5...6...7 *notices you walk in* 37...38...39...”

-he doesn’t go around giving affection like Leo and Mikey though

-his love language is helping with anything you need, such as as helping you reach a high shelf

-very comfortable just picking you up and moving you out of the way

-doesn’t matter if it’s to get you out of danger or if you’re blocking his way to the pizza that just arrived

-only responsible roommate out of the four

-only one that washes the dishes

-video games all the time

-you can’t live with the turtles without liking video games

-you and Mikey bake and cook all the snacks for video game night

-of course, Leo also has a rivalry with you

-not one like the old rivalry between Leo and Raph in other versions no no

-it’s the playful “hey wanna take me in hockey? I bet I’ll wiiiiinnnn~” or “I’m gonna best you at this and you’re gonna go crying to splinter!”

-winner gets bragging rights

- you also can’t live in the lair without being besties with April

-come on, she’s cool as hell!

-she’s the one you talk to about human problems or just complaining about the turtles in general

-nosey boys

-very very nosey

-there’s no way to have secrets in this lair

-you have a diary?

-expect Leo to go through it in one night

-you read fanfiction or write fanfiction?

-oh Donnies keeping tabs on each chapter

-he’s updated all your tech, he can definetely see what you look up and access it from his computer

-hey, living with them isn’t always going to be sunshine and rainbows

-you’ll always find Mikey in your room admiring any decorations or books

-he’s constantly borrowing your stuff and not asking

-Raph is probably the only one that understands personal space

-...unless it comes to him worrying about you when you leave the lair

-will text you all the time, asking if you’re okay, even if you’re just hanging with a friend or going to the store

-since they always invade your privacy, they always know if you aren’t feeling okay

-the moment you step foot in the lair they’re asking what happened

-and if you try to say there’s nothing wrong oh ho ho ho you’re in for it

-Donnie is pulling up articles, Mikey is bugging you, Leo is trying to activate his face man powers, and Raph is sitting in front of you and asking what’s up

- the only privacy invading they do that you actually enjoy is when you’re in your room at like, midnight, watching a movie

-you’ll be watching peacefully and then Mikey just appears in the doorway

-he’s got blankets and he’s got snacks

-you just wave him over and let him sit on your bed

-then Leo shows up, no offering other than his presence

-don’t bother trying to push him away he’s gonna watch that movie with you and Mikey even if it kills him

-once you three are settled, Donnie shows up with a movie projector so you don’t have to watch on a tiny phone

-he ends up staying, even though he denied that he would

-Raph shows up with pillows for everyone, the only turtle to actually ASK to join

-you can’t say no to the giant teddy bear

-you may have started off by yourself in your dark room but you ended in a giant cuddle puddle with your roommates

-sometimes though you don’t have time to hang out with them

-school

-school happens

-you have to deny them because of homework

-Mikey will help you with flash cards, decorating them so they’re fun and make learning interesting

-Donnie studies with you and probably knows the material better

-he’ll help you so it’ll be over faster

-Raph is simply your company

-he’ll sit quietly in your room and play relaxing music, offering any advice or comments he had

-Leo just tries to convince you to ignore it

-it’ll still be there tomorrow! As of right now, he needs you to watch the skating tournament with him

-once you’ve got everything done you’re immediately dragged into whatever shenanigans they’ve got going on

-you’re also the self appointed camera man, using your phone to capture every harebrained plan AND failure

-living with them isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but it sure is never boring

Sorry this is all I got!

If anyone has any headcanon or oneshot requests send em my way!

#wattpad #fanfic #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt leo #rottmnt imagine #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt donnie #rott spoilers #rottmnt movie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader

[griffintail]

14 Months

Summary: This is a part 2 to The Bolt.

Pairings: Technoblade x GN! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, Blood, Mild Violence, Implied Torture, Talks of Resurrections, Angst

A/N: I don’t know man, I don’t think you guys really wanted a part 2-- 

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

        Phil was cleaning up when Techno came back into the house.

        “That was quick,” Phil muttered, then frowned when Techno started picking up his gear. “What are you doing?”

        “I’m going to pay a visit to an old friend,” Techno told him, before leaving the house once more.

        Phil tried to stop him, worried about what he meant but Techno was on Carl in a flash then he was gone.

        …

        Techno looked behind him as the lava fell, Dream standing up from his spot on the floor in surprise.

        “Techno, what do I owe the honor?” Dream asked.

        Techno looked over at the man, seeing he was still allowed to keep his mask it seems.

        “I heard you had a book that could bring back the dead.” Techno cut to the chase.

        Dream smirked. “You have? Now, where did you hear those rumors?”

        Dream knew about Techno losing his partner. He had seen it before he had set the TNT off above L’Manberg. He had wanted Techno’s grief to sink in though and come to him. That would just simply mean, Techno owed him another favor if he wanted them back.

        “Do you, or do you not, have something that can do that?” Techno gave a small growl, having no patience for Dream’s games.

        “I did.” Dream shrugged. “But I burned it.”

        Techno came forward and took Dream by the scruff his shirt, pinning him to the prison wall.

        “You did what!” Techno barked.

        “Hey! Hey!” Dream held up his hands as he laughed. “I didn’t say I didn’t memorize it before I burned it. It’s all up here.” He pointed at his head.

        “You’re nuts.” Techno snarled, letting go of the masked man. “Tell me how to do it.”

        “That’s not how this works.” Dream tutted. “You already owe me a favor Techno! Now, I’m looking to cash that one out with you…helping see the light.” He grinned wickedly behind his mask as Techno’s face stayed neutral. “But, of course, if you want my knowledge, that will mean another favor.”

        Techno now gave a snort and Dream frowned at the sound.

        “No.” Techno shook his head as he turned from the smiley masked face, running his hand along the walls. “You’re stuck. Can’t dig your own way out. No one can blow it up to simply get you. You have no power inside here Dream. So, I’ll have you find.” Techno turned his head to look at Dream, smirking as he glared at the man. “I have the power in this situation. So, you’re going to tell me everything before I even consider giving you my favor.”

        “You have nothing Techno. I’m the one you owe a favor to. You—”

        Techno was quick and Dream gave a yelp as he stumbled back in surprise, his mask cracked, a few splintered ends stabbing into the sides of his face as Techno’s knuckles were red from where he had punched the mask of the man.

        “The hell!” Dream shouted. “You’re not going to get anything out of me like that.”

        “No, I think I will. I’ve taken done hundreds of men and many nations all on my own before and one way or another. They bow to the Blood God.” Techno spread his hands, grinning.

        The voices chanted for blood at the words of his speech.

        “So, Dream. Will you bow or will I have to make you bow?”

        Dream clenched his jaw behind his mask. He needed to keep his pieces in this game.

        “Try me.” Dream challenged, standing in defense.

        “Blood for the Blood God then.” Techno grin turned wicked.

        …

        Sam stood up straight when he saw Techno mildly decorated in blood, several patches of the blood not connected to the few injuries he had.

        “What did…” Sam started, slightly furious.

        Techno had promised he was just going to talk to Dream.

        “We just had a nice chat. Don’t worry, I left him breathing.” Techno said in his monotone voice. “Lead the way out Sam.”

        “I can’t let you back into the prison after this Techno.”

        “I don’t need to come back. I have everything I need.” Techno said, the voices repeating Dream’s knowledge like a bible…

        …

        It was the dead of night when Techno got home, Phil passed out on a chest next to the window, having been waiting as long as he could for Techno. Techno didn’t wake the older man up though; instead, he grabbed a book and quickly wrote down what the voices had none stopped been chanting just so he could remember. Once it was all written down, the voices turned into a new chant.

        (Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!

        He went outside quickly, reading the words over in his head before saying them out loud as he did the ritual. Thunder cracked with no storm as the wind picked up in the area around him as the snow was kicked up. Phil’s crows felt the crackle of power in the air and started cawing loudly, startling Phil awake as Techno finished the ritual.

        Techno looked around as Phil looked out the window and scrambled up to meet his friend outside. Techno snarled as he snapped the book shut. It didn’t work! He’d break that smiley-faced bastard out, only to get the information he wanted!

        “Techno! Mate! Where were you? Is that blood?!” Phil panicked as he came over.

        Techno’s breathing picked up as he had been so hopeful it would work! (Y/N) would have come back…He’d be able to hold them again…

        Then both Phil and Techno jumped as they heard a scream from Techno’s house. Techno’s breathing stopped before he sprinted inside.

        “(Y/N)!” He shouted.

        “T-Techno!” He heard a sob.

        He booked it up the ladder as Phil was standing wide-eyed at the door. Upstairs, (Y/N) clutched their chest as they sobbed looking around the familiar room. Techno ran to their side and hugged them tightly.

        “Shh, shh, it’s alright. You’re home.” He whispered. “You’re home.”

        “I-I-I-Was I really dead?” They held onto him tightly, trying to ground themselves.

        Techno gripped onto them tighter as he didn’t speak, the answer clear enough for (Y/N).

        “Oh god…I was dead for…For over a year…Holy—” They looked up at Techno. “W-Wilbur was there, a-and Schlatt and I-I there—I can’t.”

        Techno looked at them shocked as they spoke before trying to get them to focus.

        “Hey, hey. Look at me. You’re here. You’re ok.” He whispered to them, holding their face lightly. “I won’t let it happen again.”

        Their breathing slowed as they focused on Techno, tears running down both their faces, happy they were back as Phil stared in shock from his spot on the ladder.

        Techno didn’t know where they got a year from, they had only been gone two weeks and four days, but he didn’t care. All he knew, was it wasn’t going to happen again and he had (Y/N) back.

Tags: @sylum @zefrenchturtle @nevermore-forevermore 

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader

[julemmaes]

Like I'm Drowning

Rowaelin Month, Day Twelve

A/N: Sorry about this, blame @thewayshedreamed, she's the one who wanted more angst.

This will have a fourth part, for obvious reasons;)

part one, part two

Word count: 3,874

It was two days after Aelin had left their home. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening when the walls of what had once been his favourite place had shaken with the force of Lorcan's fists on the front door, shouting at Rowan to let him in.

He had not answered.

He couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to because his legs had stopped working and the muscles in his neck had been reduced to jelly over the last forty-eight hours, sip after sip of whatever alcohol he'd found in the cabinet.

He lay on the floor, his face in a pool of his own vomit, too heedless to care, too sore to move. In any case, he had stopped smelling the stench hours ago.

Another ten minutes had passed, in which his best friend had threatened over and over again to call the police if he didn't open the fucking door, before Lorcan had slammed his shoulder into it.

He hadn't been able to move in time when the door unhinged from the wall fell partially on him, hitting him in the head with one of the now splintered edges. He grunted in pain and could smell the blood as it began to trickle down his forehead, onto his nose, and he was relieved - he wasn't dead. Rowan had not been sure of it until that moment.

The other was there an instant later, taking the door off him, leaning it against the wall.

And the sharp breath he took was a dagger straight to Rowan's heart.

He didn't want him to see him like this.

He had never heard Lorcan's voice like that. So shocked, so worried. Whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment were blocking him from approaching him. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. Of breaking him more than he already was.

Rowan shook his head what he could, he didn't want him to see him like this. He didn't deserve his help.

"God, Rowan, what have you done?"

The relief at finding out he was still alive lasted a moment though, as the pain in his chest hit him so hard it took his breath away and he pulled himself up onto all fours before yet another wave of gags shook his body. He opened his mouth, hoping that this time something would come out, but he choked on nothing. His eyes filled with tears and Rowan wondered how that was possible.

There should have been nothing in his body.

He’d been in this conditions since the day before.

He felt a hand settle on his back, rubbing up and down as Lorcan tried to figure out what was going on, and his brain betrayed him, showing him images of a life he had taken for granted all along, from the second she had been his.

Him on the bathroom floor a few months earlier.

A box of somewhat-too-spicy Chinese food on their coffee table.

And Aelin.

Her hands on his back.

He shook off Lorcan's hand, "Don't touch me."

The words burned his throat and another gag went up his esophagus.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his back rising and falling frantically with each breath where he seemed to be unable to get enough air in.

"Rowan."

He didn't look at him. He couldn't.

"Rowan, you hear me?"

Lorcan ducked down, crouching beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to remember what he'd just asked him not to do as soon as he gave him a startled look. If he touched him again, he didn't know what his broken mind would show him. He was terrified of it.

With a grimace, Lorcan clenched both hands into fists and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sour smell of vomit and what Rowan was ashamed to admit was his own piss reached his nostrils. When he opened them again there was a distinct determination in his gaze and Rowan had to pull his eyes back to the floor.

He thought he had found a sort of calm in which he might even be able to answer Lorcan's questions, but he was wrong. He was so wrong.

"What happened?”

“I feel-” he tried to speak, failing, “I feel like I’m drowing.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked again. And then the final hit, “Where's Aelin?"

There was no stopping the first sob. His vision went totally blurry, blackening everything in front of him until all he could see was the image of her, and his chest constricted to the point where breathing was no longer even an option. He fell to the side, against the wall, and there was no stopping the desperate crying that washed over him.

***

It was three days after Aelin had left their home. It was eight o'clock in the evening when Elide and Lorcan had asked him if he would like to go back there after leaving the hospital. It was twenty past eight when they had reached his street and he was counting down the seconds till he got to smell her perfume in the air again.

He had entered the house and tried not to breathe through his nose, realising he was not ready to remember what her scent was. He noticed how everything had been cleaned, tidied up or fixed and he didn't have the mental or physical trength to turn around, hug his friends and thank them.

He looked towards the kitchen, on the table. The letter was no longer there.

"Where is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't spoken in the last few hours. Not to the couple he knew was staring at him from the doorway.

He'd been forced to answer questions from the doctors, from his coaches asking him how much time he needed. Lorcan had warned him that he'd lied for him, that he'd told them someone dear to them both had suffered a serious injury and died.

Rowan had looked at him and said a simple thank you while he lay on his hospital bed, despite knowing how much a fuckup of that magnitude risked not only his career, but Lorcan's as well.

It was Elide who had the courage to answer him, "What?"

"The letter."

"Oh." she whispered, "I put it in your room."

He nodded. Running a hand over his face he turned to them, noting how they both looked ready to launch themselves forward if they thought Rowan was going to crumble once more time.

He saw Lorcan clench his jaw and then look away before saying, "You won't find any alcohol, I threw away what was left."

Elide smiled at him with watery eyes, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, "If you need anything, you can always come to our place. You know that. We have-"

He interrupted her abruptly. He didn't look at her as he said in a harsh tone, "Thank you for everything, you can go now."

She took a sharp breath, nodding dryly and turning, hurrying out of the house. Lorcan followed her with his gaze the whole time, telling her he would join her in the car in a moment.

When he met Rowan's gaze again, the voice was the one he'd used all the years in high school when he'd been his captain. It gave no room for argument.

"I don't know what you're going through. I don't even want to begin to think about how painful it is to lose someone so important."

She didn’t die, he wanted to say. She left me.

I gave up on her. I don’t deserve her.

The steel mask Rowan was wearing seemed to be already starting to crack. He needed Lorcan to leave before he couldn't control his emotions.

He had already done too much for him.

He didn't deserve any of what they were offering him. He didn’t deserve anything.

"I can hardly imagine what I would do if I were in your position. If Elide-" he paused, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, for what's happening. It's not easy, I understand, but whatever you're doing right now, it's not the solution. Treating me and Elide like this isn't going to drive us away, and before you tell me you don't need anything, let me just say that finding you lying in a pool of your own vomit completely hammered, out of your mind was one of the most horrifying things I've ever had to see." he took a step forward, placing a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

He had the instinct to pull away, but the grip on his jacket tightened, pinning him in place.

"I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm not going to let you throw away your career like this," he told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lecture you about what happened the other day. I know I would have done a lot worse, but you have to promise me that it won't happen again."

Lorcan's voice faltered at last and Rowan was surprised to see his eyes glaze over.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open, shocked at his friend's reaction.

"Promise me."

He hurried to whisper, "I promise."

Lorcan nodded, pulling Rowan to him and hugging him. He closed his eyes as the man in front of him held him together without even realising.

When they pulled away, they pretended not to hear the way they were sniffing, or the tears on both men's cheeks. They said a simple goodbye and then Rowan was alone.

Again.

He climbed the stairs slowly, walking like a dead man down the corridor filled with memories of him carrying Aelin in his arms on that very floor, and when he reached the door to their room, he hesitated.

He brushed against the knob, gripping it in his hand.

He stared at the wood in front of him and felt panic assail him.

Rowan turned on his heel, running for the stairs, the exit, hoping that Lorcan had not already left.

He threw open the door of the ghost-filled house and ran out, intent on never returning.

***

It was two weeks after Aelin left their home. Eleven days since he'd run away in a panic. Ten days since Lorcan had convinced Rowan to go back there, at least to pack up his things.

Nine days since Rowan had destroyed their room, screaming and sobbing as he tore the curtains from the windows and threw what little of her he had left against the wall.

Every ornament, every picture frame.

He'd screamed at Lorcan when he'd tried to stop it.

He hadn't succeeded. Rowan had razed their home to the ground, shattering every happy memory they had created over the years in those four walls.

Only when he'd found Aelin's ring had he stopped, bursting into tears so loud that the first sob had startled Lorcan, holding the small object to his chest.

They had gone back to Lorcan’s, and Elide had stood there looking at him with wide eyes, before running to get the first aid kit to clean the wounds Rowan had caused himself. More or less deep cuts, which his friends said should have been stitched up by actual doctors, but Rowan doubted they wouldn't lock him up in the psychiatric ward if he went to the emergency room for the sixth time in such a short time.

Especially if he came in with shards of glass between his fingers.

He hadn't kept his promise to Lorcan.

He'd drank again. He'd gotten into a couple of fights. He hadn't been back to the rink.

He hadn't skated in a fortnight. Longest period of his life off the ice.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything. And it was all his fault.

***

It was three months and one day after Aelin had left their home. He had called Lysandra every day since Lorcan had forced him out of his and Elide's house, finding him a place right outside their team's arena. The woman had never given him any real answers, only reassuring him that Aelin was fine and that he should start moving on, too.

That too had broken something inside of him. The implications that Aelin had found someone else.

He couldn’t even bare being in the same room as another woman knowing they’d all be looking at him trying to get in his pants.

Aelin had always been the only one who wanted him for who he truly was, not his money. Not his status.

She had wished all those things gone so many times.

And she had left him.

He had let her go.

The team had sent a physiotherapist to his house every day for the first month, and then every week, accompanied by a shrink. Rowan had managed to drain them all. One after the other.

He was sure Lorcan had lost all hope too, but he continued undaunted to help him, going to his house every day after practice, without ever missing one day.

Rowan knew that Aelin had called him one night, almost a month before. Lorcan had told him, how she had begged him to tell her that he was alright, even though it wasn't true. His friend had also told him that she'd seemed to be drunk, and when she had hung up and both he and Elide had tried to call her back, Aelin had blocked their numbers.

From what he knew, she'd only unblocked Elide's, but she hadn't given him any kind of information about Aelin and he knew she'd never say anything.

He had hurt her - Elide. Rowan knew he'd treated her like little more than trash, both her and Lorcan, but however much he'd hurt her, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

He should have felt something for his friends who had given him everything in the last period, but Rowan could not care less than what they had to go through for him.

Now he was waiting for Lorcan, sitting at the table, to show him he was alright. Putting on his daily show and reassuring his friend that everything was going great, he just wasn't ready to skate again yet. The other one would look at him, yell at him a few minutes before walking out of his miserably empty flat slamming the door.

Rowan was just waiting for the day when he wouldn't show up or when he would tell him he wasn't coming, saying goodbye one last time.

He knew it would happen, one way or another, and Rowan didn't know how to stop the mess that had become his life.

That day it wasn't Lorcan who entered his house, but someone else. Rowan opened the door and saw his agent, his team president, and his coaches, along with the athletic trainers.

They had given him an ultimatum.

Either you go back to slacking off after Christmas break or we break your contract, you're off the team and you lose lots of money.

The president had been particularly emphatic on the subject of money, but for Rowan that would be the least important thing.

It wasn't until the evening after New Year's Eve that he had made a decision.

Lysandra, whom he hadn't seen in person in more than two months, had entered his house looking like someone who hadn't slept in years. She had forced him out of bed, shouting at him to wash up, to clean his house. She had made it so Rowan couldn't talk back, never letting him speak, pushing him left and right.

She had taken him outside, something he hadn't done in weeks, so much so that the sun had hurt his eyes for the first two hours. She had forced him to buy new clothes and all the missing furniture in his house.

She had stayed with him for three days.

Three extremely long days in which she had swore at him, insulted him in every possible way imaginable by the human mind. They'd nearly come to blows when she'd touched a sore spot and Rowan had threatened to call Aedion to haul her away.

She'd dragged him to the party Fenrys had thrown for the New Year and for the first time in months, Rowan had smiled.

Elide had started crying when she'd seen him, Lorcan on the verge of tears as well. They had both hugged him and Rowan had begged for their forgiveness.

That night, Rowan thought things would be different for him for the first time.

He'd been wrong.

Again.

***

It was four years and twenty-seven days after Aelin had left their home. Four years since he had received no news of her. Three years since he stopped asking.

Rowan had been zapping through channels for so many hours now that the glaring light of the TV didn't even bother him anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the screen, not really looking at the images in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a sentence here and there, ignoring the constant tinkle coming from his phone that warned him that Lorcan still didn't give up on talking to him every day from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Even when he was on holiday with his now wife.

They had won yet another cup. The third win in a row.

Sometimes Rowan could hardly believe it.

Three Stanley Cups.

On his dream team.

He should have been excited. No, not excited.

He should have been the happiest man on earth. He should have been out celebrating with his teammates, vacationing on a tropical beach like Lorcan was doing, surrounding himself with girls ready to offer him anything to spend even just one night with him.

But Rowan didn't want to.

Rowan felt nothing – he had not felt anything in the last few years of his life. How did he expect to start now? For a measly win.

He hated hockey. He hated the sport. Hated the fans, his teammates.

He hated his life.

He was about to turn off the TV, confident that he would be able to sleep tonight without the help of the meds the team kept giving him to keep him from collapsing during the games, when his finger froze on the remote.

He didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to be a channel about gossip, and Rowan felt a pang of anger well up in his chest. It seemed to be the only emotion he still felt from time to time.

Shocked and pissed that someone had felt the need to devote an entire channel to minding other people's business, he stood up, ready to pass out in his cold bed, when the words of the man on the screen stopped him in his tracks.

"And now to the latest news, straight from the social of the Toronto Maple Leafs' rookie player, Chaol Westfall, who has announced his marriage to the stunningly beautiful girlfriend, Aelin Galathynius. She has never been very active on social media, in fact, for somebody with such a charm, she'd be perfect in the role of influencer, but-"

Rowan stopped hearing.

He felt his body's reaction in time, and rushing to the kitchen, he managed to get everything his body was rejecting in the sink. He heaved in there till the last bit of what he’d eaten a few hours ago.

His heart was racing and he had to grip the counter to keep from kneeling on the floor.

That couldn’t be true.

Aelin was getting married.

Aelin was getting married to an hockey player.

The anger blinded him as her words flashed before his eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m weak. I’m so tired.

This isn’t the life I wanted for us.

I wish I could be your “’till death do us apart”, but I can’t.

The sound that came out of him was not human as he ran to his room and snatched the ring from the drawer next to his bed, the letter that just went wherever he went and raced out of the flat that never felt his own anyway.

***

It was four years and thirty days after Aelin had left their home.

Rowan stood in front of the journalists. Everyone was gaping at him, his teammates on the sidelines were looking his way as if he’d grown three heads.

And he couldn’t blame them, but he had needed to do this a long time ago.

He’d talked to his agents, the team’s president, everyone he had needed to to make this happen and he hadn’t felt such freedom in so long.

The questions just kept on coming and coming and he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he didn’t care.

He only needed to make this statement in front of everyone.

“I’m aware that leaving this team right now is a foolish and completely insane idea, but this world has taken too much from me already. My contract with the Senators ended with this season and I know everyone was expecting me to say which team I’m heading off to, but I’m quitting.

“I should have done this a long time ago and I’m sure the person this is for won’t even see this interview, but I love someone who thought she wasn’t enough for me. She told me four years ago her love wasn’t enough. I’m leaving cause hockey has not been a source of happiness in a very long time and it ruined everything good I ever had.

“I thought I loved playing cause of the adrenaline. The pride in a win. The chills when you score. But no, it wasn't that.”

I loved seeing her smile whenever I scored for her. The way she used to put medications on my wounds and bruises whenever I got hit too hard. Or the way we used to get all cuddled up after a long flight, after weeks of not seeing each other. I loved how my jerseys fit her – the way my clothes fit her.

He turned to his teammates, the people he owned a lot but couldn’t bring himself to care enough of to stay with them, “Being on this team would only make it worse. I’m sorry guys, I hope you can understand. This isn’t what I want right now.”

And right before he could get off the stage that had been set up for him, someone screamed from the crown.

“What are you going to do now?”

He didn’t stop to reply, avoiding everyone’s gazes and keeping on walking until he reached the exit of the arena. The chill air hit him hard as he went out on the street and got on the car.

This was the last time he’d be able to use one of the team’s cars.

The driver looked at him in the mirror, “Where to?”

“The airport, please.”

The man nodded and started the engine and Rowan felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

Now, I’m going to get her.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #rowaelin month day twelve #angst #tog #throne of glass

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

May I request something where Leonardo and reader are really good friends and reader gets kidnapped and turned into a mutant. Leo blames himself, but reader reassures him it’s not his fault and they end up kissing. 💙💙

I'm To Blame [Leo x Mutated!reader]

Being turned into a mutant becomes the least of your problems when your closest friend believes it to be his fault. No one could have predicted what was going to happen; no one can control everything in their life. If only Leonardo would have realized that.

It started as leverage-abduction. The Turtles confront them, or you be pumped full of mutagen. Or worse.

The bait had been set, and the boys had no choice but to take it. Hook, line, sinker. You were held in a Foot-controlled lab, bound next to a glass canister of the ooze, a line in your arm and only the clan scientist in control of the drip standing between you and a possibly grotesque fate. You struggled and squirmed, but it was no use; there was no escape on your own.

There was a crash outside the lab doors, men shouting, guns firing, but bursting through the doors were your four saviors. Your friends, allies, and family. Leo fought his way to the front, a new kind of urgency consuming him as the gravity of the situation hit him. Any closer, and you would be mutated.

"Halt!" a soldier shouted over the clamor, a team of heavily armed men forming a semicircle around you and the scientist.

A hand grabbed hold of the back of your neck, yanking you toward him. He forcefully stretched your arm out and displayed the tube, making a note of their predicament, and the boys grimaced. Raph growled that deep, rage-fuelled rumble, while Donnie felt a shudder run up his spine seeing the canister of mutagen. What DNA the concoction was infused with, they had no idea of. There could have been anything in there. If the dosage wasn't carefully monitored, she could be killed!

"Weapons down, turtles, or this girl will be transformed right in front of you," the scientist said coolly. Leo stepped forward, blade drawn and teeth bared, but a warning shot was fired into the wall next to them. Mikey yelped and ducked into Raph, who blocked him partially with his huge frame. The scientist leaned down and inspected the canister, humming, "It seems like this batch is highly unstable. Is this a game you want to play, mutants?"

"You're bluffin'," snarled Raph, and his hands gripped his sais impossibly tighter.

The scientist raised his brows, his free hand wandering to the activator to the mutagen. One tap of a button, and your humanity would be ripped away. "Perhaps. But can you really be sure?" he inquired almost casually. "Only one flex of my finger, and we'll see."

Clenching his jaw, Raph shifted, lowering his weapons a little.

Leo mentally gauged the man power that was currently present. They could take them, he knew they could!

But Leo couldn't trifle with the canister currently attached to you. Breathing heavily, he dropped his swords, which clanged loudly on the floor. His eyes met yours, solemn, and you broke into a violent fit.

"Leo!" you cried out, lunging forward as he told his brothers to stand down. "Don't do this! Please, please, get out of here!"

He only shut his eyes, and with a wave of his hand, they all let go of their weapons in succession.

"We're not going to leave you!" Donnie yelled in return, his voice shaky.

There was a deafening silence in which it felt like a standoff, the boys panting, trying to formulate a battle plan in their heads. Leo stared at the scientist with one of the most hate-filled gazes you'd ever witnessed.

One of the soldiers in the back turned halfway around and whispered something into his earpiece.

The hefty metal doors right behind them flung open, a line of large men clad in black carrying what looked like modified cattle prods. The rods popped with electric currents as they closed in on the boys, who were only able to whirl around quick enough to meet the electrified weapons, and were instantly stunned. Currents no human could withstand brought them to their knees, Mikey shouting shrilly as he fell forward.

Groaning, Leo kneeled. He turned to the scientist at your side, his eyes darting between you and him. "You got us. Now let her go," he said. His voice was low and raspy.

Hand hovering over the button, the scientist spoke while he looked you in the eye, "You know, we were short of a healthy test subject."

Mikey gasped and planted his palms on the floor, "You can't do that, man!"

The scientist sighed and looked down at you, who was wildly struggling against your restraints. He muttered in a matter-of-fact tone, "But I can." It seemed that after a moment of contemplation, eyes going out of focus as they fell on your face and the tears running down it, he let out a reluctant groan, and motioned to one of the men behind him. "Take her elsewhere. We'll figure out what to do with her once we get these," he glanced back at the turtles, "squared away. Clear?"

"That wasn't the deal!" roared Leo, rapidly surging toward the scientist. Another electric shock was sent through him, but he kept on, and the brothers all followed suit.

You winced as the clamor rose and all hell broke loose, the boys ripping their weapons away from the men, guns being fired—your ears rang and a bullet even whizzed by your head.

Leo came at the scientist with his blade, the cowardly man trying to duck away in time. Two soldiers came up on their flank, one with a semi-automatic, and the other brandishing the electric rod. Except before they could get close to even shock him, Mikey's nunchucks landed a heavy blow on one of their heads, causing him to stumble toward you.

And fell right onto the button.

"No!" you heard both Donnie and Leo scream as the drip was activated, Mutagen flowing through the tube and into your body.

Everything became a blur. Within minutes you mutated, firstly writhing on the floor in agony as the burning liquid coarsest through you. Bones shifted, tissue changed, muscles spasmed. Your senses were temporarily blinded.

"Idiots!" snarled the scientist, backing away from you as you transformed. Raph was occupied holding off the soldiers. Mikey couldn't bear to watch. Donnie didn't know what to do, and Leo was...devastated.

Your strength grew. You broke free from your restraints. The firefight continued, this time aimed at you rather than just the Turtles. But the boys wouldn't let them hurt you. In your panic, you'd almost attacked them—your family. Leo hollered at Donnie and Mikey to get you out of there while they covered you, and seconds later, you were all barrelling out of the facility, alarms blaring, guns sounding, men shouting.

Yes, the Mutagen was highly unstable. You couldn't control yourself. And your body, it wasn't done reacting to the ooze.

You didn't know what happened next. You fell unconscious just after escaping. The last thing you can remember is Leo catching you in his arms. Him helping to carry you back home, to the lair. Your new home. You were one of them, now.

Breathing labored, you sat up on the metal table you had been laid on by Donnie. He'd checked your vitals already. Needless to say, so early in your mutation, things were not looking the best. But you would pull through; he was sure of it.

The first face you sas upon waking up was Leo's, worried. His eyes flitted all over you. You hadn't yet seen yourself.

"Y/N," he whispered, hands bracing against the edge of the table. "This...this is my fault," he said.

Donnie scuttled by holding a light and examined your eyes, then asked you to move a bit to see if there were any anomalies such as paralysis. You had some trouble adjusting to your new form, but so far, it wasn't dire.

Everyone came and went, hugging you, saying their piece about how happy they were that you were okay—as okay as you could have been—until Splinter noticed Leo's distress. He told the boys to let you two have a minute alone. Splinter left himself, as well.

The two of you now alone, Leo had a hard time speaking. He couldn't quite find the words to say how sorry he was.

"This isn't your fault," you drawled, still feeling a little loopy from the whole ordeal.

He leaned in, as you couldn't do much beside sit up. "If you hadn't ever gotten involved with us, this would have never happened," he said, lowering his head. "And now you're…"

He paused, and you finished for him, "I'm what? A mutant?" you asked softly. "Leo, I am so lucky to be alive. And it's all thanks to you." He sighed, not believing your words. "They would have killed me, Leo," you added, and took his hands in yours. He looked up at you, blue eyes meeting your own. Had your eye color changed?

"You didn't deserve this," he swallowed.

"Does anyone?"

He stood up. "This happened because I failed, y/n! As a leader, as a friend—"

Not caring about your current state, you slid off the table, landing on your feet with a thud. Your body ached, but you payed it no mind. Leo went rigid as you closed the gap between you two.

Still holding his hands, you told him slowly, "It is not your fault."

Your faces were only a few inches from each other. Unknowing, he gripped your hands. You swore that you could almost hear his heartbeat picking up as you leaned in, lips hovering over his. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but you stopped that thought. "You understand? Not...your...fault…"

His breath hitched when you gently pressed your mouth to his, at first going completely still. But then he closed his eyes, and his arms found their ways around your torso. The kiss was short and gentle, but he was stricken—only when you parted did he whisper a moment later, a new kind of hope inside, "You can live here, with us. You don't have to worry. You shouldn't ever have to worry, y/n."

"I won't worry, Leo," you muttered, letting your head rest on his chest. "Not when you're here with me."

He held you until eventually, everyone filed back in, Splinter smiling warmly at the sight.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo

[ragingpancake]

McShep prompt: no regrets?

Thank you so much for the prompt! @gingerpolyglot I really appreciate you sending this to me!

The pain in his shoulder radiates outward until his whole arm feels like it’s on fire. They need to operate, to clean up the mess of splintered bone, fragments of bullet, but he refuses to let them put him under, not yet. Not when Ronon, Teyla and Rodney have yet to come back through the Gate. It’s only because he’d lost consciousness at some point or another that he’s here, pacing the gate room despite the way each painful step threatens to bring to him to tears. No one is talking, refusing to give up whichever Marine it had actually been who had dragged him through the Gate, leaving the rest of John’s people on the other side. Likely because they knew the soldier wouldn’t escape unscathed for ignoring the single, most important rule: we don’t leave people behind. It was meant to be a routine mission. A quick return to M5-X385 to check in on the Zamains and make sure they were settling in okay to their new settlement. It’d been fine at first, a cake walk really, until some faction of the old Zamani militia, pissed at being removed from their previous plant (despite the fact that it was, you know, showing signs of the beginning of an actual ice age), showed up. Their weapons were primitive, but effective. A bullet had caught him in the shoulder and while bullets had never taken John down before, the damn rock that conked him on the head from the damn trebuchet definitely had. He never would have left them. Never.

Ronon and Teyla, they could take care of themselves, John knew that. But Rodney… Rodney, who was never meant to be a soldier, Rodney who, most days couldn’t even get a handle on his own P-90… Rodney, who John had sworn to protect at all costs and not because he was honor bound to do so, but because… well, because it was Rodney, was still out there. He trusted Teyla and Ronon with his own life, trusted them with every single person on this base, but… But. Rodney. “Dial the gate, Chuck,” he snarls up to the control room, yanking the sling that Keller had fitted him with temporarily from around his neck and he has to bite back a strangled cry at the way it jostles his arm. He somehow manages to keep up that stoic façade, despite the pain, despite the worry gnawing away at his stomach. “Disregard that command, Chuck,” another voice rings out and John turns, glaring daggers at Colonel Carter. “I said dial the gate!” Sam takes the steps down into the Gate room two at a time, closing the distance between them, her own jaw set. “I let you convince me to allow you to remain out here until they get back, John, but I’m not letting you do this. You’re in no condition—” “They’re my people!” He bellows, “and if you think for one second that I’m going to—” The gate sounds, loud and echoing in the Gate Room and Carter steps back, pulling John with her. “I’m reading Teyla’s IDC!” Chuck calls down and John whirls on him angrily. “Lower the damn shield!” The moment it’s down, the trio comes running through the event horizon, followed closely by the marines Carter had sent in as reinforcements. Once everyone is through, the shield reactivates a split second before the gate dies and John realizes he’s been holding his breath. It comes out in a whoosh as he pushes through the small crowd, good arm gripping Rodney’s shoulder and it hits him in this moment that he could have lost Rodney and he thinks his knees are maybe about to give out when the scientist turns to him, blue eyes wide as he pulls John in for a bone crushing hug. “Oh thank God! I thought you died!” And John can’t stifle the cry that tears from his mouth this time as his shoulder explodes with pain. When he goes to his knees, Rodney follows him, careful to ease him down as Keller weaves her way through the group, medical team right behind her with a gurney meant for John. “I—I shouldn’t have left you,” John rasps as hands grab at him, but he pushes them away, eyes never leaving Rodney’s. “You went down so fast and, and, and there was blood and—” It’s Rodney’s hand this time on either side of John’s face. “I thought you died,” he says again and it’s too much in this moment, with the way Rodney’s looking at him and John can’t breathe and--. “Colonel,” Keller says urgently. “This can’t wait any longer. We need to get that shoulder--.” He doesn’t hear anything else though because he leans forward, shoulder be damned, and crushes his lips against Rodney’s. He savors it for about a half a second before he feels a prick in his arm and everything starts to go sideways. “Sheppard—” Rodney says as Keller’s team manhandles him onto the gurney and John can only watch through hazy vision as Teyla and Ronon help Rodney to his feet, Ronon’s hand clamped firmly on Rodney’s shoulder as if to keep him from chasing after him. I’m gonna beat the shit out of him later for that, John thinks, but it’s the last thought he has before darkness claims him. --- He wakes up in the infirmary and unsurprisingly, he’s not alone. Ronon’s sitting in the chair next to his bed, legs propped up on the edge while Teyla is at his feet, hands rubbing his ankle through the blanket. Rodney’s up somewhere near his head and John can feel the weight of his hand on his good shoulder. “’Thought you were gonna sleep forever,” Ronon says, dropping his feet and letting his chair tip back on to all four legs. “You should not have delayed your surgery, John,” Teyla admonishes gently and he wishes that they would at least wait until he’s fully awake before the

lectures start. “Yeah, but if he hadn’t, the whole Gate Room wouldn’t have gotten that show.” John blinks at Ronon maybe a little dumbly as Rodney’s cheeks pinken slightly. “Wha’—” John clears his throat. “What show?” “Oh, you know, the one where you tried to make out with McKay in front of everyone.” “Ronon,” Teyla chastises, but he grins at John. “Clearly, it was some sort of mixed reaction to the adrenaline decrease and, and, and probably blood loss,” Rodney explains and John can read it all over his face, even slightly high, that he thinks there has to be some reasonable explanation other than the fact that John just wanted to kiss him. Plain and simple. That he’s wanted to for the longest damn time, maybe since the first time Rodney showed him the Puddle Jumpers. The problem was never Rodney, it was always John, too emotionally stunted and stupid to act on what he wanted until he thought he might never get it again. “We don’t need to keep harping on it and embarrassing the Colonel,” Rodney huffs but he slouches down in his chair a little miserably. “No regrets, McKay,” John says, and he would shrug like it was no big deal if he thought he could move his shoulder without puking all over his team. But it has its desired effect because Rodney sits up so quickly that he very nearly drops his tablet. “I—what?” “Well,” John amends, feeling his eyelids growing heavier by the moment, “maybe just one.” His head lulls to the side and he gives Rodney a lopsided smile. “Probably shoulda done that sooner.” And Ronon laughs out loud, clapping his hands together like this is the best thing he’s ever heard. “Told you!” He crows. “I told you! You owe me a beer!” Teyla rolls her eyes but she does so with a smile as she rises, swatting Ronon’s legs. “We should leave you to rest, John. I am very glad that you are alright.” Ronon is still grinning broadly, even as Teyla ushers him away, but not before he claps Rodney on his shoulder roughly. “Did you… do you mean that?” Rodney asks, oddly quiet and John doesn’t know when his eyes closed, but he has to open them again to squint up at Rodney. “S’it alright with you if I do?” “Oh, yes. Of course, I just, uh. It’s just that… which is to say um, you’re youand I’m me and I just uhh… can we perhaps try again? Sometime soon? For scientific reasons, of course.” “Rodney,” John murmurs. “Hmm?” “Shut up.” “Right. Yes. Shutting up now.” It lasts for all of two seconds. “Really though? Are you sure? You literally just outed yourself in front of the entire expedition and, and, and—” “I know,” John says and he’s so close to falling back asleep. “Still. No regrets.” “Huh,” is the last thing John hears before the darkness claims him once more.

#mcshep #askbox prompt #sga fic #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #sga #john sheppard #rodney mckay #john sheppard/rodney mckay #teyla emmagan #ronon dex #ronon is a little shit #and teyla is lovely as always #gingerpolyglot

[baejax-the-great]

Aches

Fenris x Hawke (G)

1850 words of banter about old injuries between even older friends. Mentions of alcohol, spiders, and aging.

Read on AO3

~

When Bethany summoned ice from thin air, Varric reflected for the umpteenth time what a fantastic waste locking up all the mages had been for all those years.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” he said while scooping it into a handkerchief.  It would soak through eventually, but it was going to get the job done.

Hawke watched him with a raised eyebrow. “Was I the only one who thought the ice was for our drinks?”

“Ice in wine? Yes,” Fenris replied.

“I don’t know, it might have been nice to try it cold. Something new?”

Fenris shook his head.

“I’m an old man now,” Varric explained as he tied a knot to hold the ice in, “I have aches and pains, and in my time in the charming south, ice helped.”

“What aches?” Bethany asked.

“My wrist,” he replied. He rolled his eyes at Hawke’s failure to hide a childish smile. “There’s a cranking motion I have to do for Bianca and—”

Hawke was no longer pretending to listen seriously, giggling to herself, and Varric put his hands back on the table, regretting his choice to act out the motion in the air for more than just the predictable pain that came with it. He set the ice to do its work.

“Tell me more about how you crank Bianca,” Hawke said with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He shook his head. “I know I’m not the only one here suffering. Come on, Hawke, you’re practically a walking bruise at this point. Maybe you’d like to be put on ice for a bit.”

She grinned. “Well there was the old shoulder injury. And the knee injury, of course. Every time it rains it starts creaking. And I really did roll that one ankle too many times. It seems always on the verge of rolling again.” Bethany quietly began summoning more ice as she spoke. ”And, well who could forget my back that one time, except that the answer was all of you forgot my back or nothing would have happened to it in the first place…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Bethany tied up the ice and handed it to her sister, who only used it to gesture in the air as she said, “Honestly, at this point I take a healing potion prior to fighting just so I can make the stabbing motion without wincing. And I’m still not half as fast as I used to be.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was whisky.”

“You thought I was getting drunk before fights?”

He nodded. “I was worried about you. Now I know you are in too much pain to hold a blade. That’s much better.”

“Not after I take one of these,” Hawke said, wiggling a small vial in front of him. She seemed to remember the ice in her other hand at that point and after some consideration she balanced it on her right elbow, her smile fading into consternation. “And then take three more the minute we’re done, or I’d have to make you carry me home.”

“Give me that—” Bethany said, snatching the vial before Hawke had the chance to protest. She swirled it in the light, popped the cork to delicately sniff it, then sighed. “You really shouldn’t be taking four of these in one day.”

Hawke snatched it back with her tongue stuck out. “It’s better than taking a knife to the gut, but I’ll keep that in mind. Not all of us can shove healing magic into our shoulders after every fight.”

“Maker, don’t remind me. All that twirling has taken its toll.” She sighed. “And Alistair—all that plate mail on his big body—his knees are practically dust at this point. I think magic is all that’s holding them together.”

Hawke laughed and offered her elbow to Bethany, who prodded at it a bit with some magic. Fenris was conspicuously silent through all of this, and Varric just couldn’t help poking.

“What about you, elf?” he asked, “Where’s your worst pain? No, don’t tell me. It’s either the shoulder or the elbow, and my money’s on the elbow.”

Fenris took a slow drink of ale, and Hawke, to her credit, didn’t shout out the answer. “I may not know my age,” Fenris drawled, “But I am now certain I am younger than all of you. My joints are fine.”

Hawke laughed. “Maker, but you were a haggard teenager when we found you,” she snickered.

“Bull shit,” Varric replied. “And here’s how I know it’s bullshit and that it’s your elbow. I haven’t seen you do that over-the-head hack move in two years. Now I know you’re strong enough to lift that enormous sword of yours, but I’m guessing your elbow won’t let you do the follow-through.”

Fenris shrugged. “It was an inefficient maneuver,” he replied simply to Hawke’s giggles.

Bethany, who had prepared yet another handkerchief full of ice, turned to Varric and asked, “Should we play pin the ice pack on the elf? Honestly I’m guessing there are no wrong answers.”

Of course, with her time spent healing, she had an eye for these things. She leaned over and whispered in Varric’s ear.

He grinned. “Alright Mister-Younger-Than-The-Rest-of-Us, let’s have a demonstration of your peak physical condition. We’ll start with something nice and easy. Put your hand all the way up in the air, as far as it will go.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and started to raise his hand.

“The other hand,” Varric and Bethany protested at the same time.

Fenris considered the hand currently holding his cup of wine. “No.”

Hawke accepted the ice pack from Bethany and placed it on his shoulder for him.  “I really thought I’d be much older when all my conversations devolved into what hurt where and how bad,” she said, Seems like a conversation for people with white hair.”

Fenris gave her a very pointed look.

“I mean like Varric,” she sighed. “He’s not nearly gray enough for this conversation.”

“Thanks, Hawke.”

“Any time. Anyway I suppose we’ll really be lost when we start arguing over whose pain is the worst.”

“It’s you,” Bethany said simultaneously with Fenris’s “Yours is.”

Varric, who might have enjoyed a great sympathy for his poor wrist that started the entire conversation, had to agree. “We all saw—”

“Don’t bring up the Arishok,” Hawke interrupted flatly, “I’m so tired of talking about the blasted Arishok—”

“That golem-looking thing in the Deep Roads that crushed your foot,” he finished.

“I was going to say that time a Maker’s Fist blasted her right off a cliff on the Wounded Coast,” Bethany said, “I think she hit every shrub on the way down.”

“I was thinking of the Arishok,” Fenris said.

Hawke elbowed him.

“We all had our fair share,” she said, “What about that time Merrill got that spider bite and we had to carry her home?”

“That was nothing,” Varric said, “She was fine by the time we got back, but I think she was enjoying the ride. Void, she probably weighs less than Bianca, so it wasn’t some big imposition or anything. Whoever had to carry her staff got the worse end of that deal.”

“What about when Isabela got that nasty burn? I can still remember the smell,” Bethany said, scrunching up her nose.

“But you healed that in about a minute,” Hawke said, “She hardly suffered at all.”

The rest of the evening was spent arguing over not over which injury was the most grievous, but which injury was the stupidest in their history. Isabela’s hand blowing up twice its usual size because of what turned out to be a very infected splinter was right up there with the time a crab snapped Fenris’s bare toes and refused to let go until Varric bolted it. Varric personally felt that while Isabela’s injury was more serious, Fenris deserved the crown because he could have just done his lyrium thing at any moment to get away, but instead hopped around like an idiot for a solid minute before Hawke got him to hold still.

Regardless, the ice eventually melted, leaving them all a little soggy, a little nostalgic, and definitely ready for bed.

~

In their bedroom, after their slow, verbose goodbyes to friends and family that involved Hawke hugging everyone at least three times, including Fenris who was going nowhere, Fenris asked Hawke, “So what happens now?”

She frowned. “Well I was going to peel off this shirt and toss it in the hamper, and then normally I would take two more of these so I could go to bed, but Bethy just told me to limit myself to four.”

Fenris stared at the potion in her hand. “You’ve already had—that is not what she said—”

“Maybe a bath?” Hawke continued as if he had said nothing at all, “With those fizzy salts. That should help, right? Everyone always says those help. Have a bunch stored in a drawer somewhere.”

“No, I meant…” They had slowed down. Fenris had been mostly joking about the whisky, but he hadn’t really registered the extent to which Hawke was in pain. They were both in pain. “Are we…?” He didn’t even know how to phrase the question. What were they if not mercenaries, champions, and warriors? “Are we done?”

“With fighting?” She tossed her shirt away with a small grunt. “Maker, yes. That’s done. We’re old, it’s over, you couldn’t pay me to pick up my blades again, which no one does anymore anyway. May they rust wherever I dropped them last time we came home.”

He nodded, though he couldn’t quite tell if Hawke was serious or not. “Just like that?” he asked.

Hesitating a little, her flippant attitude smoothed into sincerity as she walked over to him and rested her arms over his shoulders.  “Do you remember that time you got bashed over the head?”

“Not really, no,” he replied very honestly.

“Right. Of course. I do, though, and after tonight’s conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The slower I get, the stiffer I get, the greater the chance it happens again. Only this time I might not finish off our assailants on my own, or get you to the healer in time, or be able to carry you at all if I have to.”

Fenris rolled his bad shoulder. That thought had crossed his mind once or twice, that should extraordinary circumstances occur as they often did around Hawke, there was less certainty of them prevailing. Still, he didn’t know what a future of quiet peace looked like.

Perhaps it looked like Hawke, slowly undressing as she spoke.

“So I’m done,” she continued, “Didn’t realize it until tonight, but I am serious. Someone else can clean up Darktown or mend the Wounded Coast. I’ll be in the bath, with my salts.” She tossed the rest of her clothes and sauntered toward the bath, pausing to look back at him. “Are you coming?”

Questions of the future aside, what could Fenris do but follow? She had certainly led him to worse places before. “Always.”

#hawke #lea hawke #fenris #fenhawke #fenris x hawke #bethany #bethany hawke #varric #varric tethras #my writing #alcohol mention #feels good to write a dumb one shot again

[remmushound]

Turtle tots short: Leo the medic -

“HOOOOOOT SOUUUUP!

The four hatchlings danced to match the final move of their cinematic hero, slashing their fists through the air and kicking out their legs to match the pose so exact that Splinter couldn’t help but stare. This was only their first time watching this particular installment of the long series, and their second time seeing the move, yet they got it perfectly with very little effort. Raphael was the first to drop the pose as the ending scene turned to credits, and that was the signal for his brothers to follow suit and do the same. Then all four started to scramble around excitedly like young boys tend to do while gabbing on to their heart's content.

“Ohhh that alien fight scene was sooo cool!” Raphael squealed, spinning around until he got dizzy and fell on his rump.

“If by cool you mean biologically inaccurate, then sure.” Donatello followed up, shifting his glasses higher up on the bridge of his beak.

“Yeah! You could see the strings!” Leonardo followed up to support Donatello.

Splinter snorted and stood up from his lazy seat, his simple presence calling the attention of all his sons.

“I assure you, my sons, that there were no wires.” His tail curled behind him and he folded his hands behind his back. “Everything you saw in that movie was real.”

“How would you know?” Leonardo pointed at Splinter accusingly.

“Yeah! How would you know?” Raphael repeated loudly.

“Yeah! How woulda?!” Michelangelo copied squeakily.

Splinter closed his eyes and laughed slowly. “Oh, my sons. You insult the master on his work! And I assure you…”

Splinter jumped suddenly into a tailspin, knocking each of his sons on their shell with a powerful whip before he landed in a pose identical to the pose he had acted out in that same movie they had just finished.

“I’ve had much longer to learn the moves.” Splinter stood up in the traditional Lou Jitsu pose. “HOOOOOOOT SOUUUUP!”

The eyes of Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo glimmered like stars in astonishment of their father, but Leonardo seemed almost unimpressed.

“Please! You don’t even sound like Lou Jitsu!” Leonardo put his hand on his hip and stuck up his nose pointedly. “Lou Jitsu sounds American!”

Splinter growled. “Well maybe Lou Jitsu just adapted the accent to get more young American boys like you interested in watching him! Now shoo!”

Splinter ushered his sons out of the room as a unit and closed the door behind them. The slam silenced them for a moment before Michelangelo giggled and soon they were all giggling. Michelangelo stuck his arms out like an airplane's wings and started to make plane noises while running around the room.

“Hey! Mike’s got a good idea!” Donatello stated, then zoomed after Michelangelo while copying his motions.

“Wait for meee! Follow the leader!” Raphael ran to get in front and lead his brothers in their airplane game.

“Yeah, whatever. That looks dumb!.” Leonardo only kept up his stubborn resistance for a few more heartbeats before bolting after them to join in the game. “Wait for me too!”

And then they were all buzzing circles around the room, with Raphael in the lead as he always was, guiding his baby brothers to victory.

“RRRRRR! This is Captain Raphael speaking!” Raphael spoke in an announcer's voice, “Just thought I’d tell you, as leader, we have takeoff!” Raphael guided his brothers up and over a couch and under a table, twisting his arms to match his turning as he weaved through the furniture.

The game ended after several extended moments of fun, and Raphael ended up climbing onto the arm of the couch to make himself appear taller.

“Otay everybody! If we’re gonna be as cool and awesome as Lou Jitsu, we need to make our own ninja clan!”

Donatello raised his hand.

“Yes Donna?”

“What is our ninja clan gonna be called? I mean— we don’t really have a last name...”

“Oh yeah.” Raphael frowned and plopped down on the arm of the chair with a huff as he started thinking. “Hm.”

“Oh oh oh!” Michelangelo bounced as he raised his hands, not waiting to be called on. “What about the Splintersons?”

There was a collected mutter of approval and agreement.

“Great idea Mikey!” Raphael declared, standing back up. “Now! As the oldest and biggest and strongest, I’m obviously the leader of Clan Splinterson!”

“And I’m the technician!” Donatello bragged, holding a hand to his chest as he gave a proud smile, “Not to brag or anything!”

“And I can be the therapish!” Michelangelo said excitedly, “Like Factor Gee in the movie!”

“You’d be a great therapist, Mikey!” Raphael praised, then turned to Leo, “What are you gonna be, Leo?”

“I…!” Leonardo started out excitedly but didn't say anything past that. He looked from Raphael to Donatello to Michelangelo, and then huffed. He crossed his arms. “I think this game is stupid. I’m gonna go play barbies.”

“Wha…?” Raphael stared sadly after Leonardo as the younger mutant stomped off to the Barbie Dream House he shared with his brothers, his back turned to the other three as he immediately started to play with Barbie and her sisters.

Michelangelo and Donatello scrambled onto the couch beside Raphael and watched as Leonardo left, equal looks of confusion and sadness and disappointment evident on their faces. A minute later and they had almost seemed to forget about Leonardo, and they were back to playing their airplane game.

Leonardo tried not to make his tears too obvious. He wiped his eyes intermittently as he played with what were usually his favorite toys, but now he only felt numb to them. Especially when he could hear the laughter and giggles of his brothers as they played their Clan game behind him.

Leonardo brought the four Barbie sisters into their Dream house living room and started to place them in sitting positions on their little plastic couch. Barbie, Stacie, and Chelsea fit perfectly snug together on the small furniture but left no room for the final sister, Skipper. Leonardo looked down at the lone doll in his hand. There was no room for her, and he was just like her. His team already had a brave leader and a smart technician and a cute therapist. What else was needed…?

Leonardo flinched at the sound of a heavy thud and he looked behind him to see Michelangelo flat on his back after hitting his head on the table when he hadn’t ducked low enough. Raphael and Donatello were already there around him staring and not knowing what to do. Michelangelo didn't cry at once, but once the shock set in the youngest brother burst into tears.

“Oh no no no!” Donatello immediately clutched at his head, “We’re gonna be in so much trouble!”

“Don’t cry Mikey…” Raphael tried to comfort Michelangelo by gently petting the smaller one's head, but that only the box turtle cry more as he kicked out his legs and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Here— I got it.”

Leonardo pushed his way past Donatello and Raphael, heaving a medical kit in both arms and flopping it down on the floor beside Michelangelo. He clicked it open and helped Michelangelo sit up straight before grabbing a Nemo bandage. He unwrapped it, placed it gently on Michelangelo’s forehead (though there was no blood, it was still a psychological help), and gave the mutant a gentle kiss.

Michelangelo giggled sheepishly at the kiss and covered his forehead with his hands. Leonardo laughed and gave his brother a gentle hug before helping him to his feet.

“Come on! Walk it off!”

The minute Michelangelo was standing again, he launched himself into Leonardo’s chest for a hug and gave a soft churr of gratitude. He wiped snot on Leonardo’s shell and then looked up to his brother beaming.

“You’re really good at this! You should be our Clan medic!”

Leonardo sucked in a shaky breath at the declaration, his eyes going wide as saucers and his body feeling almost numb. “R… really?”

“Yeah!” Donatello agreed as he and Raphael circled around their younger brothers for a group hug, though Donatello seemed resistant to it at first.

“Every Clan needs a medic!” Raphael said, “And you could be ours!”

“You… think I can do it?” Leonardo started to tear up as he looked around at the excited faces surrounding him.

“Well, there’s two questions you gotta answer first.” Donatello nodded. “First: Do you like doing it?”

“Um… yeah.” Leonardo decided after a moment of thought.

“Are you good at it?” Michelangelo asked, “I think the answer is yes!”

Leonardo laughed. “Yeah— yeah it is!”

Raphael yanked all three of his younger brothers off their feet and hugged them tightly. “Then you’ll be the first and bestest medic in all of Splinterson Clan history!”

#turtle tots #Leo the medic!! #fun break for meee #my brain is still fried tho #worth it

[firstfullmoon]

Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

#this is a mim supremacy account #w #compilation #the precious intimacy of little things #john berger #hanya yanagihara #naomi shihab nye #wendy cope #mary oliver #ada limón #ocean vuong #danusha laméris #ross gay

[awyeahitssam]

“He can’t have come back in time,” Harry said. “There’s no way you would stop trying to kill me, no way for us to end up raising a kid together. No way you would ever miss me.”

In retrospect, fighting the Dark Lord in the Time Chamber had been a poor idea.

Their spells clashed in the middle. Sparks flew every which way, and then the room was cast into gold by priori incantatem.

Like the last time it had happened, Harry's hand had seized around his wand—he met red eyes through the blast—Voldemort's mouth was curled in a snarl—Harry's scar burned—they ended the connection in time, Voldemort’s wand snapping left as Harry’s followed to the right. 

A clock splintered and shattered under the residual energy. There was a sudden loud sound, like they were rushing through a wind tunnel, and then, between them on the floor, where the clock had shattered, appeared a young boy.

He wobbled on his legs for a moment before falling with an ‘oof’ of surprise. His eyes found Voldemort immediately and widened. He held out his arms to the Dark Lord and whined out, “Papa.”

Voldemort stayed frozen in place, red eyes wide.

Harry lowered his wand immediately, taking stock of the situation as quickly as he could. Voldemort’s eyes flickered to him, catching the movement. His expression had quickly reverted to neutral, but Harry could feel a blend of suspicion and surprise that mirrored his own. Voldemort seemed as at a loss as Harry was—didn’t seem to know the child who reached out and called him ‘papa.’

Voldemort wouldn’t hurt the boy, would he? Harry swallowed around the thought. He’d been perfectly willing to kill Harry when he was even younger.

Harry took a step forward.

“Cease,” the Dark Lord warned, voice high and cold as ever. “This ploy is sickening.” 

Ploy? Voldemort thought this was a trap of Harry’s—or, more likely, Dumbledore’s—devising? It was a child—and from his sheer discomfort, from his confusion, Harry knew that this was not a trap on Voldemort’s part. Although the man had lured him to the Department of Mysteries with false visions—if he could control the connection… 

“Up,” the little boy insisted, waving his arms a bit. “Up, papa!” 

Something in Harry ached. The young boy’s confusion and frustration at Voldemort ignoring his request to be held was obvious. Red eyes were narrowed, the mind behind them surely spinning as Harry’s did. Wasn’t Voldemort meant to be brilliant? He had probably already calculated and discarded dozens of scenarios—in the meanwhile, the boy was beginning to sniffle in a way that promised tears. 

“I have nothing to do with this,” Harry insisted, tone carefully even. He didn’t want to distress the child by fighting with his—perceived, because surely not—father in front of him. “We are making a mess in a room full of time turners. Maybe—” 

Maybe what? They had somehow pulled a boy from the future with their carelessness? A future where the Dark Lord had a wife, had a son? The back of his head was a mess of curls as dark as Tom Riddle’s hair had once been, but Harry could make out little else.

As if sensing his thoughts, (or far more likely, having heard Harry’s voice and realized there was somebody else in the room all along,) the boy turned. He was fair skinned with baby fat clinging to his face and a shirt that said “Slythergriff!” in enchanted text that shifted between green and gold. There was no mistaking his eyes, however. They were what caught him out. The same eyes Harry saw every day in the mirror. His mother’s eyes. 

They lit up on his in joy, a blinding grin spreading across the child's face. “Daddy!” 

He ran forward and threw himself into Harry’s arms, obviously no longer content to wait on Voldemort. Harry bent down automatically, catching the boy and lifting. He was perhaps fifteen kilograms, heavy enough that Harry’s arms strained a bit. 

“Papa said you're still gone,” the child blabbered excitedly, squirming until he was comfortable. He leaned back to meet Harry’s eyes, and would’ve fallen if not for Harry’s hand moving to his back to steady him, the other braced under his butt. “For ‘nother two days!”

“Did he?” Harry asked, feeling rather faint. “I—got back early.”

Harry saw Voldemort move out of the corner of his eyes and immediately tensed. His wand shot from the floor to his hand. Voldemort sneered at him, and Harry noticed that his yew wand had vanished from sight. 

“Where were you a moment ago, child?” the Dark Lord demanded. The boy looked back at him, his upset at Voldemort’s harsh manner of speaking obvious.

“Papa mad,” he whispered to Harry. “I was bad?”

Harry’s face twisted. ‘What did I do wrong?’ he had wondered at the same age, staring up at his Aunt and Uncle. ‘Why are they mad? Why do they hate me?’

Whatever the situation, he never wanted to hear this boy sound so desolate ever again. 

“No, darling, you weren’t bad.” The child relaxed instantly at Harry’s reassurance. His trust was obvious and heart-wrenching. “Your—papa is just confused. Can you remember where you were?”

“Yes,” he said, turning to face Voldemort more fully even as he snuggled back into Harry’s hold with a little sigh of happiness. “I was with Nipsy in kitchen. Being good, papa, promise.”

“I’m sure you were,” Harry soothed, before Voldemort could somehow make the situation worse. Red eyes were watching him closely, but Voldemort felt more intrigued than like he was about to rip Harry apart. “I feel like I’ve been gone for ages, little one. Can you remind me how old you are?” 

The boy beamed, not seeming upset in the least with his question. He held up his fingers quickly, the answer clearly practiced. “Four, daddy!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile back. “Very good,” he praised on automatic. “And what’s your full name again?” 

He giggled. “Daddy didn’t forget my name,” he said certainly. 

“Once learned, I could never forget it.” Harry said carefully. “Tell me anyway?” 

The boy huffed, “Practice meeting people ‘gain? ‘s boring.”

“People that meet you need to know your name,” Voldemort intoned, tone far less sharp than it had been.

“People always know, though. I don’t ever getta use what you teached me.”

“Taught you,” Harry corrected, as Voldemort took a deep breath. Harry’s scar was prickling, but there was no reprimand in Voldemort's voice when he replied, “There is never harm in practice.”

Looking a bit disheartened, the boy huffed, “‘Kay. I’m Micah Silas Gaunt Potter. Papa’s dictator—sorry, a dictator—and daddy’s dip… dipmad? Daddy makes the world better. And if ya take me ‘way, daddy can find us real quick and then you’d go ‘way forever.”

That sounded. Vaguely ominous. And odd, considering Harry had been labeled ‘daddy’. 

“What’s—that last part?”

Micah pouted. “I dunno, can’t ’member the word. It’s why you go ’way, so it’s dumb job.”

Harry hummed, brushing through the messy curls gently. “If I didn’t have to, I’m sure I would never leave you. But I’m more interested in my making people ‘go away forever’.”

“Oh. Papa said warn ev’rybody that you’d be really mad if they took me ‘gain. Cause when the mean woman stoled me, you made her go ‘way forever.”

Voldemort swept closer. Harry’s hand flexed around his wand. “And how did he do that, Micah?”

“You were there, papa, Daddy made green light for her ex-cution, ‘member?”

“Of course,” Voldemort said, eyes sticking on Harry. 

Micah craned his head to look at him. “Aren’t you gonna hug papa? He missed you lots too!”

Something in Harry twisted in revulsion at the idea of touching Voldemort, of hugging him, the man who had killed his family. “I… already gave him his hug, darling.”

“Oh.” Micah started wriggling. Harry helped him turn back around until he was clinging around his neck like a koala, careful to keep a hold on his wand. The boy settled with a yawn. “Missed you,” he muttered into Harry's neck, curling into him. “Papa’s bad at stories.”

If it was meant to be a whisper, it wasn’t a very good one. 

“I missed you too, darling,” Harry said, and then cast a silent sleeping spell. Something in him ached. He wanted this. Wanted family. He always had. He wasn’t even sixteen and yet he couldn’t wait—but he’d never have this. Especially not with Voldemort, who had taken his first family away. 

Harry's grip tightened protectively. He felt like he might cry. He took a deep breath and met red eyes. 

“Hurt him and I will break the prophecy,” Harry warned. 

“And why would you do that?”

Harry looked at the dark head of hair tucked under his chin. Why? “He has my mother's eyes.”

#harrymort #tomarry #Voldemort/Harry #Harry/Voldemort #kid fic #snippet #may be continued one day? #my writing #ao3 is Insanely-Yours96

[rainytomorrows]

TMNT x reader | Return from home

AN: I hope I can finish this in time to keep up with the schedule I gave myself, I wanted to write an angst comfort thing. Just as before, it will start with a beginning story and then it will part into the four different turtles. Hope you enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had just visited your family, they had always tired you out. It felt like you had just been bullied relentlessly. They always knew how to bother you, and yet you could never say anything about it. Talking about succeeding, how your grades are, what you were doing with your life.

It always made you feel like you weren't good enough. No matter how hard you tried, you felt out of control. You couldn't focus on anything useful, and when you could you would burn yourself out and didn't do good enough at it anyways.

You stayed up hour after hour working and getting nowhere. Your parents were just getting to be way too much. It bothered you how so little could affect you like this.

When you left you felt tired. Fatigued. You just wanted to curl up and sleep, but the brothers needed you to help them with some crafts. Granted they didn't actually need you, it was just for fun, but you couldn't even handle the thought of not being able to do something so small and simple.

You made your way along the sewer, you hadn't even noticed your condition. You were hunched over, using the walls for support as you walked. Your legs had a slight shake in them. It was almost as if the incredible shame of being affected so much by them had forced you to ignore it completely.

You had been forced to notice it though when your favorite turtle turned a corner, finding you. "Hey! Are you ready to- oh. Are you alright Y/N?"

Leonardo: You had fallen to your knees, breaking down the moment you saw the worry in his eyes. You couldn't handle it. God you just felt so weak, you couldn't be good enough for anyone huh?

He ran up to you, holding you in his arms and hugging you, trying to keep you off the gross ground. "What happened? Are you alright?" Lord, he always just made sense. He worried about the important things without making you feel like a loser. He had logic on his side, without triggering your ever lingering fear of failure.

A while had gone by without you answering him, lost in your thoughts. This led him to assume you couldn't talk about it just then and needed some time. He held you up with his arm, helping you walk to the lab while you cried softly. You felt like a total loser but, it was fine here. Maybe it was your inability to cry near your parents, but it felt safer here. You almost HAD to cry with your discovered safety.

You ended up meditating in his room with him, he explained the situation and highly suggested you take a break.

You spent lots of time with him doing calming activities. Mainly things like meditating, napping, talking about what had upset you. The other brothers left you and Leo to deal with whatever until you were ready. Splinter left tea at Leo's door for the two of you to enjoy.

This home, while sometimes loud and often obnoxious, felt so many times calmer and safer than your own.

Raphael: You stood, trying to hold your ground as long as you could. You had found yourself standing still as you attempted, head high and your hands held in fists. Your knuckles turned white and your nails might just draw blood if you held your spot for much longer. You bit down on your cheeks and held your breath, all in attempt to keep your tears in and stand up straight. You were strong, you have to prove that. If not to your family, you had to prove it to at least someone.

He walked, maybe even ran up to you. You tried as hard as you could to keep it together, to prove to someone you weren't that sensitive. You tried as hard as you could, but the moment he hugged you it was too overwhelming. The feeling of someone hugging you in a way that felt nothing like a threat or a bad promise, was enough to tip you over the edge for sure. Your legs and arms turned to jelly and you fell into his arms. Your fists were still balled up, gripping him as you tried to stay up. Choking on your tears as you tried to stop them, they came up quiet and struggled.

He picked you up, you struggled against it but he kept holding you anyways. You didn't want help, but he knew for sure you needed it. You didn't want to be bothering yet another person, but if it was you bothering him he was fine with it.

You made it to the lair eventually, you made it out of his arms and you had still been struggling to keep it together. Despite your continuously failed efforts you still had a string of hope, that you could be strong for once. You tried to punch yourself, a bad habit you had when you were frustrated, but he caught your hand and held it nicely. "How about we take a minute to unwind, alright?" You had pitifully tried to protest so you could help the others, but your attempts failed and your legs wouldn't support you for long.

You eventually ended up settled in his room as he tried to calm you down, he had often used violence to settle his anger but he knew this wasn't the approach this time. He saw himself in you for a short second and wanted to calm you down through a healthier technique.

You cycled through many calm activities before finally sorting your feelings. You found yourself caught in his arms, it was comforting. You felt weak, but you felt relieved. It felt as if this time, maybe for once, your weakness wouldn't be a problem.

Donatello: Your fists were white with how hard you were balling them, your face contorted as you tried to stop yourself from crying. You let out a couple swears, wishing you could keep it together. You raised your fist, landing a few weak punches on your leg. Donatello swooped in and held your hands in his, lightly rubbing them with his thumb. "Hey, hey, it's okay." Tears prickled your eyes, your throat hurt and your ears burned as the feeling of crying washed over you. He picked you up, cradling you in his arms as he attempted to calm you down. "Shhh it's gonna be ok darling, shh" he lulled you, you tried to be tough but you couldn't. You craved comfort and serenity.

He carried you all the way to the lair, hugging you tightly as he found a quiet and private space to comfort you. He explained to his brothers that you and him needed a moment on the way to his room.

He laid you on the bed, climbing on to hug you as you sat. Sobs started to echo through the room, spending almost all of your energy trying to stop. Spending the extra energy on trying to at least cry quietly.

You couldn't cry, it wasn't nice. It made you feel weak and judged. You scratched at your legs and arms, nearly hard enough to make you bleed. Donatello returned to his earlier actions, holding your hands in his and whispering comforting words to you. He fully embraced you, you swore and angrily cursed the ceiling but he understood. Your words came out broken as your thoughts came to light, quietly voicing how you felt. How your family made you feel.

He just, sat and listened. Nothing about how weak you were, or how there were people that had it worse. It didn't feel like you were competing to validate your feelings. You didn't feel like you needed to downplay your feelings to validate what happened. No more 'it was nothing' or 'it was slightly annoying', just genuinely expressing how it made you feel without the fear of not going through enough pain to be valid.

Your words were soft, the way you said them almost made them seem small. Filled with the fear of not being big enough. You were still filled with the fear of explaining wrong, the fear of being seen as horrible for even suggesting that such a small thing was worth mentioning. Your fears were never brought to fruition though, he listened to all you had to say without ever interrupting to tell you to 'suck it up' or anything of the sort. Your thoughts were simply, listened to.

His embrace was calming, this wasn't your house but you had felt more at home than you ever have before. No matter where you were or how you felt, you could feel at home with him.

Michelangelo:

You had tried to walk forward, knees failing to carry you. You started to fall and Mikey caught you midway to the floor. He hadn't seen you cry before, it killed him. He didn't exactly know what to do but he couldn't stand you being like this. He just had to make you feel better, and that was a promise.

He had helped you on your way to the lair, loudly stating that you were to either be left alone or comforted. He had his heart set on that craft, but your well being was way more important.

He sat you on the couch, making sure you were okay before grabbing many materials to comfort you. Covering you in blankets, turning on the TV, bringing you the best pizza he could find. Along with whatever other snacks he could find to fit your tastes.

When he was sure you were settled and surrounded by amazing tastes he joined you on the couch, laying across your lap and generously paying you with compliments and stories about how cool you are. You didn't look ready to talk, he would worry about what happened later. Starting with calming you down first.

He had given you a long sweet night of affirmation and snacks, later laying on his bed and ranting to him about how you felt. He understood, maybe not fully but he got the basic feeling of some of it. It hurt him to see that someone in a caring and loving position could make you feel like this. Now that he knew how your family made you feel, he swore he would take their place and help you however he could.

Bonus: I try my best to make these stories fit for most/all versions, but I do think more about their personalities in the 2012 version. So I would like to think of Splinter sitting down with you and a cup of tea, and simply listening to you talk. Or him offering his home whenever you felt unsafe or uncomfortable. Even just a nice long hug from him. I'll be honest I'm slightly envious of them, he felt like a very nice dad.

Word count: 1,826

.

AN: I hope you enjoyed the story! I worked for two days on it, which feels weird now that I see how it turned out lol.

#tmnt #tmntdonatello #donatello hamato #donatello #raphael #leonardo #mikey #michelangelo #leo #donnie

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

Hello how are you? I hope your doing fine. I hope you don’t mind but I a request.

How would the boy react if they saw there S/O fainting from exhaustion? The cause of this exhaustion could be work or even college.

Thanks you 😊

Hmm- good ask, Anon! I don’t mind!

Warnings: Swearing.

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: Gender-neutral reader.

Leo:

You two had been planning this date night for at least two weeks

You were excited about it, too

The two of you were going to make dinner together and then eat under the stars

But, as luck would have it, your job had been killing you for days before your date night

You hadn’t slept for two days, and you were- admittedly- exhausted

But you didn’t want Leo to know this

You knew he would cancel it and just hold you until you fell asleep- and you didn’t want that

So, you dealt with it until your boyfriend arrived

When he did, he held you close to his plastron, and you couldn’t deny that sleeping wouldn’t be a bad idea…

“No,” you told yourself. “Stay awake.”

You started working in your kitchen, and he joined you

“What’re we making?” he asked you

“I was thinking chicken parm?”

“Perfect.”

The two of you worked seamlessly, and the movement definitely woke you up a bit

You two finished the meal, then packed it into serving containers to bring to the rooftop

Once there, your exhaustion made another appearance

You used a barrier on the rooftop to hold yourself up

You shook your head slightly and pushed yourself away from the barrier

You helped Leo finish setting up

He hugged you one last time before you two sat down

The moment he let you go, you stepped back

But your knees locked and you collapsed to the ground

Leo immediately comes to your aid

He sees that you are fast asleep. He smiles sadly, holding you close

He brings you back to your apartment and lays you in your bed

He went back to the roof to grab the food, and once it was put away safely, he crawled into your bed with you

He kissed your temple before pulling you to his plastron

He’ll talk to you when you wake about your sleeping habits- but for now, it was obvious you needed sleep

Raph:

You two were in his work-out room, both of you talking about your day

He just described what he and his brothers did during training that morning since not much else had happened

You had been complaining about your workload at your job, but not exact details

You had been taking on extra shifts, which was running you into the ground

It’s been three days since you took a nap, and four since you actually slept the entire night

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you were running on pure caffeine

“C’mon, I’m not sure about you, but I’m starving,” he says to you

You nod and go to stand

Your legs are weak- almost numb

You take a deep breath and try again

You’re able to stand, and you release your breath

Raph is looking at you, slightly confused

You wave him off and start toward the exit

A few steps away, your consciousness finally gives out and your knees buckle

Raph catches the back of your collar and pulls you to his plastron

“Fuck, y/n! What’re you trying to do?” he asks

He doesn’t realize you’re no longer awake

When you don’t respond, he leans back a bit so he can look at you

Your face looks incredibly peaceful and serene

Especially compared to when you were awake

He sighs deeply and holds you close again

He picks you up and takes you to his room

He clambered up to his bunk, trying not to drop you or wake you

Once settled, he held you close to him

Softly, he started singing to you, hoping Mikey wouldn’t come into the room to hear it

(not like he cared much now, anyways- he had you to worry about)

Donnie:

Like Donnie, you were running on an hour of sleep over the past 4 days- nearly 5 at this point

However, it was taking a much greater toll on your health than it was for him

And he saw this

He saw the bags forming under your eyes

He saw how much more frequent your cups of coffee were

(you were drinking like they were your lifeline)

You had been telling him you were fine

Then, there was the last straw

You had just entered the lab with your umpteenth cup of coffee that night alone

The moment you put down your mug, you turn to ask Donnie a question he never thought someone your age would ask

“How long can I last without sleep before hallucinations start?”

“Um… Three or four days?”

“Oh…” you whisper. 

You nod slowly

You whisper like you’re talking to yourself

“That’s why I’ve been seeing the creatures from ‘Heffalumps and Woozles…”

About an hour later you start to leave the lab again to use the bathroom

When you get to the doorway, you almost lose your balance

You mumble lowly to yourself, then continue. Donnie follows.

A moment later, in the middle of the living room on your way to the bathroom, you collapse

Donnie immediately catches you, then take you to his room

The rest of his gadgets can wait- he, too, needs sleep.

Mikey:

He had come to your apartment so he could pick you up and take you to the Lair

You had been invited over to dinner to finally meet Master Splinter

And of course, this night fell the day after you had worked yourself into the ground for three days straight

You had only gotten an hour’s worth of sleep during that time

You had mentioned you were tired to Mikey, and he took it into account to go easy with you

When you two arrived at the Lair, Raph and Donnie were hanging around in the living room

“Hey, Y/N,” Raph says to you

“Oh, hey!” Donnie smiles

You wave to them and give a small greeting

Mikey sits near them on the couch

“Let me guess, Leo’s in the kitchen?” you ask

You casually sat on Mikey’s lap and he wrapped his arms around you

“As per usual, right?” Raph chuckled

The four of you talked for a while

Mikey couldn’t help but notice you seemed to zone out every once in a while but didn’t mention it

“Hey, dinner’s ready!” Leo called from the kitchen

You, Mikey, Raph, and Donnie all went to the kitchen, where Leo was placing the last dish on the table

He had made home-made mac and cheese with bacon bits and chicken parm

There was also a side of green bean casserole that he admitted April had made

You sat next to Mikey, feeling your heart in your throat and your brain in a fog

There was a small lull in the conversation as the brothers waited for Splinter

You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting off sleep

You felt a hand on your shoulder

“You must be Y/N, yes?”

You looked up at Splinter, nodding nervously

He smiled at you

“Welcome, Y/N,” he said

He went to the seat at the end of the table, and everyone began eating

The conversation was casual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary

That aspect made you happy- the brothers weren’t pretending in front of you or their father

A while later, you got up to use the restroom

Mikey seemed to be the only one who noticed that you stumbled a bit

After you disappeared into the hallway, everyone heard a loud thump, as if something had fallen

Mikey immediately got up and followed

He found you on the ground, no longer awake

You had fallen asleep while walking, thus falling in the middle of the hallway

He picked you up and took you to his room, placing you in his bunk

He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, then went back to his brothers and father to explain what happened.

He was back to cuddle you really fast

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt headcanons #tmnt headcanons sfw #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader sfw #tmnt x exhausted!reader #tmnt x gender neutral reader #tmnt anon ask #anon ask #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt don #tmnt mike #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2--7 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader