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chatsukimi · 6 days

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eternal: ten cursed fingers, born from the flame

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: sukuna x fem!reader, fluff, some angst, heianera!sukuna. pt 2.

When Sukuna enters the workshop, he is fifteen and mortal, and you are tending flames by the furnace.

Afternoon sun casts through the straw ceiling. You blink twice as you stare at the doorway. Heaving against it, a boy. Sunspots dance in your eyes.

'Please. Please, I'm dying. Help me!' he begs, and his wrists come up to strangle either side of your face, blood filling your tunic in buckets.

Brutal.

He is a curse user, you sense, his energy pouring out like his soul. You could feel it, flooding the plain room, his impending death.

You are young and what the elders say about helping strangers don't faze you. 'Put your hands in the fire.'

'No!'

His eyes are rolling back. He doesn't have much time left.

You grab his arm, dragging his doll-limp figure to the fire. You shove it into the coal.

Observing the healing, your grandfathers' words echo vaguely at the back of your head. They would come asking for it over and over again. They would chase you like immortality. But maybe, you think, maybe he would save dozens with those hands.

What preoccupies you more, though, squatting beside the boy, is the wonder alit in this stranger's face as his hands glisten back to life by the flames until what touches her is not slime and blood, but tender flesh. Bare fingers.

When he leaves, he does not tell you his name, nor ask for his whereabouts, nor thank you. He does not smile, and he gives no compensation. With the rags on his body, though, you do not think he has enough.

He does not do a lot of things, but the last thing you remember of your first meeting with this boy is that he did not say goodbye.

...

He, indeed, returns. He wears a stone carved lion mask.

'I do not think it's fair that I give you weapons for free,' you say, holding up a sceptre for the -now- man.

He chuckles. Sukuna shows you his innate technique: slash. Examining his technique for hours on end, you welded weapons with similar precision.

Through the years, he arrives later and later at the footsteps of your house during the night. He stops calling out for you from the door. Instead, appears frankly at the furnace where you sleep.

'Fuga,' he whispers, like an inside joke, against your ear- open. At first, you startled awake and nearly bashed him in the face. But you know now that despite his stoicism he is smiling under the mask, appearing on the opposite side of the room in an instant.

A little part of you rejoices at knowing this was an important man you have saved, though your fingers never touched.

You can tell from how he stands with solidifying confidence, toys with the necklace around your neck with the symbol of the Sun, Moon and Stars Squadron without ever grazing your skin, and the cursed energy blistering the summer air now greater than any sorcerer you'd met, he was great. All of the Fujiwara Clan combined does not compare.

Electricity trills under your pulse.

Ten years, he comes and goes.

You do not ask for his name. He does not ask for yours. Sometimes you catch him glancing at you in the corner of your eye, as you're tending the flames.

Years pass.

You forget his face.

You wonder, in his aftermath, if he will forget yours. One day he will get tired of the same old swords in the same old countryside home, you're sure of it. But he drives on back each time like an old man seeking immortality.

When he leaves, you stare at the designs of weapons you gave him. What great things would he achieve with those at his side? Your grandfather never tells you about any jujutsu affairs. Leave the girl to sword-making is his motto.

...

A rumour passes from ear to ear from the Southern Clans to the North. A sorcerer is tearing up villages in a one-person massacre to consume their flesh.

Every villager now inks black prayers on their carriages. Prayers to the living god.

You think, it doesn't hurt.

You, too, stick up rice paper on your windows to shield against the monster you know does not care, roaming through the woods in carnage.

...

The next time he comes, the man is wearing a demon mask.

Half his body, gone.

You push him to a chair. You kneel between his legs. Your hand hovers over his abdomen, where the flimsy stitches had failed to ease the bowels from overflowing. You frown. A flame blossoms from your palm, piecing his body back together. He clenches his teeth and watches you.

Cursed Flame: burns anything back to its prior state.

'What Special Grade curse could do something like this?'

He does not answer.

His sheer height has you sinking into your ankles in respect.

As you back away from the fire, you stumble into his chest. Your feet catch in the mat. In the times before, he had never attempted to touch you. Now his hand is tilting your head up, holding your chin, to look at his face, whom she had never seen before in full view.

You flinch.

Your exhale escapes as a gasp.

‘Are you scared?’

Now you realise what is so frightening about the demon who brutalises whole villages, consumes their flesh- living god. So, this is what thousands died seeing. You swallow, because he is beautiful, this four-eyed demon.

Before you utter a word, he leaves the room.

You whip your head around to inspect the windows. Nothing but wind howls against the house. No shadows but your own etches onto the tatami mat by the fire.

Rippling from all four directions, a voice booms: ‘bow.’

Your knees hit the ground. When he enters the room again, he stops before her. You dare not look at his feet.

The Fujiwara Clan teach their daughters well.

‘Stand.’

Is this a trick? With your head still bowed, you press onto one knee. ‘I do not feel enough to equal your presence, Ryomen Sukuna.’

He laughs.

Oh, how he laughs. So his name truly has spread like wildfire through the Clans, big and small. But something nicks at him, that he cannot see your eyes flickering with your flame, or your mouth working the irregular candy you chew, sometimes, on the job, when you feel comfortable around him. In those moments, he would get the urge to reach out and touch your shoulder, just for your reaction. Would you drop the sword to wrap those flaming hands around him so that he could feel some warmth?

'No. I tell you to rise so you rise.' You stand up. 'What's my name?'

'Ryomen Sukuna.'

'No.' He cups your face with his palm as he'd often dreamt of, when he was a teenager. As he'd often planned, when he grew older into the adult he is now. 'For you, I am Ryo.'

...

Ryo.

He likes it when you look at his face. He tells you sometimes, 'this is what you saved.' The four eyes blinking back at you.

He likes the smell of ash by your neck and often pushes his nose against your skin. An animal, you think to yourself, smiling.

Ryo, he takes what he wants, as the powerful do, so when the day comes, he says, 'come with me.' Out of nowhere.

He leads you out, facing the fields of darling grass and daffodils.

He hasn’t thought this through but he doesn't need to. He opens his mouth, ready to ask the question.

‘I can’t…’ He turns around to watch you speak. ‘... can’t bear child.’

For once, although you have denied his request, his face remains void of anger. Void of anything at all.

At twenty five years old, that’s all Sukuna knows what to want. If he cannot have the girl, then steal something else- after all, what are you worth?

‘Then give me something else.’

‘Have my flame.’ His eyes widen. You press on, ‘but you will protect me, in case my family decides to kill me. The flame is a sacred technique passed down from the family. But when I die, it will be yours.’

Without her cursed technique, she would be ostracised.

Everyone comes to the negotiation table with some line they would not cross. And Sukuna swore to never become a protector.

His mouth pronounces, ‘no.’

'Then what do you want, Ryo?'

He stares at you. He's never denied himself any pleasure in his life, but the way his heart skips a beat- it's what's made his enemies weak to be culled, what brings down great empires (love).

Surely, you would be his downfall.

He could not have you.

'Never mind. I want your Technique.'

He would live 1000 years wondering why those flames in his palms would perform in silence. He’d move them with grace to murder. He’d stare at the sparkling embers in a lake, waiting for it to shift and shape into some form without his control. He would realise, ages and eons in, that he had forgot to specify the fusion of their souls.

‘Deal.’

You were always an abnormally weak sorcerer in body. Never trained to exorcise a curse. Perhaps that’s another reason he suggested it, his one mistake. You were his to protect -no matter how he’d protest- but never were you with him again.

...

The next day, Sukuna wipes out the Fujiwara Clan in its entirety. Destroys them so badly no one recognises the corpses.

Mangled. Twisted. Broken.

He destroys the only thing that would've destroyed you.

It is that night at the beach, rain and seawater tangling your hair, you swear to kill him, the boy you saved so many years ago, even if you would be his for eternity.

Your hands tremble. You almost set fire to the sea.

...

'Ryo.' You're brushing his hair as he tips his head back to look at you, unfazed. 'Why do you do what you do?'

He hums, tangling his fingers through yours. 'Why does it matter my purpose?'

'I was just wondering.' You rub at his hands gently, the living things you saved.

Apparently disliking the silence, Sukuna speaks again. 'I do whatever I want, however I want. I have no purpose.'

When you kill him, he almost grins, as though proud. Had he always acted like this? The strange and feral monster.

'Are you ready to die now?' you ask. Some part of you still recalls the child wailing at the prospect of death.

Sukuna cackles, but before he even flinches as the sword digs through his skin and bones, he props his head before yours, kissing your lips as though playing a trick on you.

His scarlet eyes forever haunt your memory, reflecting the silver of your sword and the red of your flames.

'I'm always ready for you... ... and anyways death is not eternal.'

When the flames extinguish, you realise you had left none of him behind, but the hands. Ten cursed fingers, born and killed from the flame.

pt 2.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #one shot #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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rubra-wav · 2 months

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Vox HCs entry #2

Warnings/CW: discussion of toxic masculinity, SFW

A/N: just various thoughts I've had about this man.

- He is a musical theatre/drama fan

He gives me this energy so much due to how dramatic he is in general. His first instinct when Alastor comes back is to instantly make a callout on live TV in the form of song. 💀

I feel like he listens to musicals in 'secret' - but it's not actually nearly as much as a secret as he thinks it is. I feel like in general he gets very loud when he's passionate or excited about something.

I just have a mental image of him thinking nobody in Vee tower can hear him while he absolutely yells the lyrics of a song with headphones on at full volume while dancing out the choreography to the song.

He'd deny everything about it if you brought this up however. He grew up in the 50's and due to that I feel as if he would be very insecure about it. I'll elaborate more on that in the next point.

- Still has a fair few beliefs to deconstruct

He is from around the 50's time period, and due to that I feel like he would have a lot of internalised toxic masculinity.

He is on and off with Val who's obviously GNC, so I think he doesn't gaf too much about others and what they wear and do anymore

But I think he has a lot of shit he directs towards himself still.

Elaborating on the liking theatre thing and denying it: I think he would stubbornly deny it because he thinks it's 'too feminine' for himself to be interested in and that he thinks it makes him 'less of a man' and shit kinda like that.

I also think because of this he also has horrendous perspectives on showing emotion.

It is already canon that he hides behind a mask at all times, but I feel like even if he 100% trusts someone to be genuine around them he still wouldn't let himself do so due to thinking he's 'less man' if he does things like cry or directly seek any kind of support - especially emotional - outside of his usual compliment fishing behaviours.

I don't think his perspectives usually pertain to others as he's had a lot of exposure to different more up-to-date / nonconforming people with Val and Vel - but I do definitely feel like he has hella internalised bullshit.

Dating him in this aspect would be hard because you would need to be there reassuring him that it's okay to do things which society deems as 'feminine' - especially with what 1950's society deemed as being normal and abnormal for men.

He needs reassurance so bad about it.

I can see him as trying to keep up his mask of not needing any kind of help from you even when it's obvious he's cracking under whatever (pressure, overwhelm, stress, etc. Etc.)

- This man can't dress himself well for shit

(Mostly based upon past Voxtagram posts)

This man's closet outside of his usual outfits is largely button-up/polo shirts and cargo shorts with the most horrifically ugly patterns you've ever seen in your life.

The only reason his outfits look good ever is because of Vel forcing him to not dress like shit.

I can imagine him walking out of his room in a blue and red polo and black cargo shorts with a snapback on and Velvette and Valentino just looking at him in utter horror. 💀

I also like the idea of him having equally chaotic socks. Like you have the usual put together outfit he has on, but then he takes off his shoes, and they are eye shatteringly ugly with words printed on them.

It's ironic because if you date him he will be probably pissy about you dressing well going out together.

He's a hypocrite 🙏

- He doesn't like sweets

I can see him as not liking things that are sweet at all.

He absolutely takes his coffee black as well, it's the most bitterest gag-worthy flavour ever and you are terrified at how much he seems to like the taste.

The sweetest thing he does like in the way of drinks is diet coke.

I feel like he survives on energy drinks, but I don't think he enjoys them at all and just tolerates them.

He doesn't like desserts either. Maybe tiramisu but not frequently.

I can see him actually liking dark chocolate though. I feel like he likes bitter things.

He's totally an absolute cunt about it as well.

If he sees you having coffee with milk/creamer and sugar he's the type of person to go "ugh. I don't know how you can drink that." While fake gagging at you.

He's that mf

A/N I have multiple ideas for drabble/fics, but my brain decided to write this out for now.

If you like sweets a lot he would be annoying as fuck about it 100%

I'm a bit hesitant to post like full fics or drabbles as I don't want to in the moment be like 'yeah, this is great!' Then look at it the next morning and be tweaking out because it feels OOC or I could have worded things better. Perfectionism is a fucking nightmare 🗣/lh

#vox #hazbin hotel #vox headcanons #vox x reader

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definitelynotstable · 8 months

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Camomile pt. 7 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10

AN: Please lemme know if you are liking this series I'm desperate for reassurance and validation <3

Synopsis: You're no longer in the hands of the enemy but the memories still linger. Ghost helps you through a nightmare. Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: injuries, nightmares, torture, kinda graphic, non-con touching (men are creeps) Ghost x gn!Reader (callsign Rags): Hurt/comfort. Loads of fluff. Nightmare trope!

———

It was pitch black when you woke. You reached up to tug at the eye mask when a warm hand covered yours, pulling it gently over your head. Cobalt eyes met yours.

“Ghost.” You breathe. You missed him.

“The very same.” He replies with a gentle nod. Soap and Gaz have left and the Lieutenant has dragged a chair over to your bedside; barely leaving any room for his legs. He is leaning forwards, tattooed forearm resting on the rail and dangling near your thigh. He’s no longer in uniform or tactical gear; his mask replaced by a simple black balaclava. Suddenly you realise you have no idea where you are. He tilts his head, watching you as though he can see the thoughts running rampant behind your eyes.

“Where are we?” You ask, thankful your voice isn’t as scratchy as it was before. Ghost leans back a little but keeps his arms resting on the rail.

“A base somewhere in Europe, I’ve not really asked to be honest.”

You frown, “That’s unlike you.”

“Yeah well,” he laughs softly, though it isn’t a happy sound, “geography wasn’t quite the priority, was it, love?”

“Suppose not,” you mumble. His eyes soften and he reaches out to pat your knee.

“I’ll ask Price when I see ‘im. It’s somewhere nearby, though. Didn’t have enough time to RTB.”

You nod slowly, fingering one of the wires by your side. Ghost just watches, waiting for you to speak.

“No one’s told me anything.” You feel like a child being left out of adult discussions. “Haven’t even spoken to the doc, Price didn’t properly debrief me – even Soap and Gaz wouldn’t talk about it. What am I missing here?”

The Lieutenant knew it was coming. He’d waited to see you just for this reason. You needed rest, not intel.

Ghost sighs. “How about I get you a cuppa? Let’s start there.”

———

Broken ribs, cigarette burns, slight pneumonia, minor internal bleeding, a handful of lacerations – to name a few. Ghost had brought you your file and held your steaming mug of camomile while you flipped through.

“What’s this?” You ask, pointing to a thick black line, roughly drawn. “Why’s someone redacting my personal medical shit?”

“The same reason Price won’t debrief you yet – you need rest, Rags.” He swipes the file from your hands and before you can argue settles the steaming mug in your grasp instead. You glare at him as you try not to spill it, craning your neck to take a sip. Ghost shakes his head and wraps an arm behind your back, supporting your weight while he readjusts the pillows. You lean back, his hand lingering until it’s pressed between your warmth and the bed. He lowers himself back into the chair, his hands wrapped around his own mug.

“That isn’t fair.” You finally say, too tired to argue but not willing to let the subject drop. “I have the right to know.”

Ghost takes a long sip before replying. “You do.”

“Then why–“

–“Because it’s a lot.” He says, cobalt eyes firm as they hold your gaze. “It’s a lot and you aren’t well yet. You can barely sit up on your own and can’t stay awake for more than a couple of hours. Please trust me, you’ll know in time.”

“But I want to know now,” your mumble, looking down as tears prickle against your will. The Lieutenants eyes soften.

“I know you do.”

“I just don’t like not knowing things.” A tear escapes. You swipe at it angrily.

“I know you don’t.”

“I just –“

–“I know.” He nods, wrapping a hand around your wrist, sliding it up to your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your lip is wobbling now but Ghost doesn’t move. His thumb swiping over the soft part of your wrist. Back and forth.

“I know, Rags.”

And you get the feeling that he does. He doesn’t talk much about his past but you can recall a few months ago when a mission went awry and you walked in on Gaz stitching him up – shirt rolled to hang loosely around his neck. Scars weren’t abnormal for soldiers, but the markings were repetitive and consistent. Corporal punishment. Something you were all too familiar with as of late.

The Lieutenant doesn’t stop. Gentle and slow. Letting you know you were with him and you were safe. He watches as you fight the sleep weighing heavily on your eyelids.

And when your eyes fall shut and your breathing deepens he still stays.

———

“Ah, дорогая,” a voice whispers menacingly in your ear. Fingers stroke down your cheek, your chest and down over your navel. Your stomach muscles ripple and flinch away on impulse. The chain rattles as you lean away from his touch. His grin widens, yellow teeth glinting.

“Ready to talk?”

You clench your teeth; jaw locked and tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth.

“Still not talking, дорогая?” He’s rougher now, hand coming to grasp your throat, the squeeze a warning.

“I have nothing to say.” You spit out, swallowing against his hand. He chuckles.

“So feisty.” He shakes his head, patting your cheek roughly. “It won’t last. You’ll be screaming soon. I’ve always found the screams of women far more satisfying than men.”

The smell of burnt flesh wafts up to your nose and you look down. He’s holding a lighter against your bare torso. Why can’t you feel it? You watch as your flesh melts away into a gaping trench; your eyes watering at the stench. Blood bubbles and boils around the edges. The pain hits you in a wave, bursting and overflowing. The damn breaks and a scream rips from your throat. He laughs then, tipping his head back as he watches you writhe.

“Rags!” Hands shake you roughly, wrapping around your shoulders. You try to shake them off but they refuse to let go.

“Rags!”

Your eyes snap oven, hair sticks to your sweat covered face and you fight the hands holding you still.

“No, no, no, please!” You can’t help but cry, twisting in their grip. “Please.”

“Rags.” The voice is soft but firm. “Look at me.”

That voice. Where have you heard that voice?

You wrench your eyes open, tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. Cobalt blue stares back down at you, blond brows creased in concern.

“Rags? Are you with me?”

You’re gasping like a fish out of water. Chest heaving; breath ragged.

“G–Ghost?”

His mask has slipped down, lower than you’ve ever seen it. With a shaking hand you tug it back up. He catches your wrist, a finger circles and tickles your palm.

He nods, his other hand stretches out and gently brushes strand of hair away from your forehead. “S’alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You feel so tired. Rung out like a rag and set to dry in the wind. His hand has settled on your cheek. Cautious and gentle. “They took my camomile.” You whisper and Ghost tilts his head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Your face crumples under his concerned gaze.The thoughts running through your mind are no longer logical. “The camomile I keep in my spare pocket – they took it.”

His thumb swipes under your eye, catching a tear. He frowns, “That’s ok, I’ve got some with me.”

Your chest heaves again and a sob slips from your mouth. “I was worried you wouldn’t have any left and Soap and Gaz only drink coffee – Price too.”

“Oh, darling.” He breathes, eyes sad as he strokes your jaw.

–“and you would have no-one to drink camomile with if I was gone.” You gasp, now clutching at his own wrist was you ramble. Your breathing is picking up again, a machine beeps more rapidly behind you.

Ghost’s face has crumpled completely as he watches you, unsure what to do. Your grip on him tightens, almost grasping the Lieutenant as though he will slip away.

“Would you like a hug?” He asks, throat constricting. He knows how hard it is to accept touch after experiencing the nonconsensual grip of the enemy. You nod frantically. It feels like you are falling apart at the seems and you need him to hold you while you sew yourself back together.

Slowly – making sure his hands are always in your line of sight – Ghost collapses the bedrail and slips in beside you.

“Show me where I can put my hands, love.” He murmurs in your ear and with shaking hands you guide his arms around you. You settle against his broad chest, your breathing slowly syncing with his own.

“Thank you.” The words so quiet he can barely hear it. He tucks you in closer, resting his chin against the top of your head.

“This ok?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod gently against him.

“Stay?”

“No place I’d rather be.”

— — —

Masterlist

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frozenjokes · 1 month

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hOtgUy drops by to pick up his visor, and Cub viscerally regrets not googling his name before then (1/2)

Tuesday was a big stocking day for the little shop where Cub worked, and easily his busiest of the week as he managed most of the stock, keeping track of what they had, sorting things, generally doing anything that kept him off the sales floor. The type of people shopping in a place like this tended to have fragile egos, and Cub, despite his previous best efforts, did not have a delicate touch. Self proclaimed superheroes would happily get into fights, suffer massive injuries, and generally engage in borderline suicidal behavior in the pursuit of a thrill, but say they have a big head one time, and you find out who the most sensitive members of society really are. (And she did have a big head, literally and metaphorically, it wasn’t Cub’s fault they didn’t have a helmet that fit.)

You could say he and his manager occasionally butted heads after incidents like these, disagreeing especially on how the aftermath was handled (admittedly, never well on Cub’s part, but he struggled to mask under pressure), but there was nothing either of them could do about it besides stick Cub in the back where no one could see him and pretend to like each other. She couldn’t fire him; a higher up was a family friend, and they knew Cub needed the help, and Cub couldn’t quit, because, again, money was always an issue, so the two of them just had to suck it up and deal. In the end though, it wasn’t a bad gig, not when he didn’t have to speak to people most of the time. It would just be a little nicer if his manager wasn’t always convinced he was doing a shit job.

Cub had been excited this morning for that to change, though in the flurry of handling supplies and dealing with deliveries, and having to micromanage everything, he had forgotten HotGuy was coming. The trucks had been late today, as well as a few other issues Cub had been dealing with, so he was still outside around noon, and coming back in to hear HotGuy’s voice was quite the scare. Mostly because he was so loud.

“-Oh yes! Positively delightful, knew exactly what the problem was and assured me you all would have exactly what I’m looking for. You know, I don’t often take a look around the smaller stores for the things I need; a lot of my equipment is custom made, but this place is just adorable, seriously, adorable. I’m so lucky Cub and I ran into each other! Is he here? Could I speak with him?”

His manager was clearly flustered, reasonable given that bigger names like HotGuy never stopped by smaller shops like this. It was cheaper, sure, but the quality wasn’t always there, and if you can afford the better stuff, you might as well spend the money.

“Thank you-” she finally said, “I’m sure I can get you what you need right here though, just a replacement for the visor screen, right?”

“Oh, that’s alright! Cub said he’d have it ready for me.”

Cub heard the strain in his manager’s voice, and it was quite clear the last thing she wanted was for Cub to say something rude or scare this high value customer away in some other creative way, “Cub’s very busy right now in the back, we get new stock on Tuesdays and he usually handles most of the-”

“I can wait!” HotGuy announced proudly, and Cub cringed from his place in the back. He couldn’t see his manager, but he could practically hear the strain in the silence, probably split 50/50 between bafflement that HotGuy was going to wait to be served and fear that he wanted Cub to be the person to serve him.

Probably fair, because when Cub finally poked his head out from the back, he was not ready for HotGuy to have no legs. The wheelchair itself was a sight; heavily customized to HotGuy’s colors but also full of stickers and even advertisements on the sides. Was- were those kitchen knives duct taped to the handles-? HotGuy himself was dressed in his usual costume, still wearing the cracked visor, but he had plain black sweatpants on as well, almost jarring in comparison to the rest of his intricate costume, though, more jarring was the fact there was nothing in the pant legs.

“Cub!” his manager hissed, not subtle at all, but maybe that was warranted given that his staring was just as conspicuous.

Cub jumped, scrambling to explain himself in a flurry of thoughts and stutters, but he and panic did not mix well, the resulting defensive coming out as, “He had legs yesterday-“ which was definitely one of the worst things that could have come out of his mouth, so he excused himself immediately. If he could escape out the back door fast enough, a stray truck might take pity on his plight and run him over. His manager broke the stunned silence, apologizing profusely, but she was completely drowned out by HotGuy’s laugh, an impossibly loud, barking thing. He said something, but Cub didn’t hear it or his manager’s response, though he did hear their shuffling and then- wheels? Was that the wheelchair?

“Cub?” Whatever Cub was expecting next, it was not HotGuy’s face poking in through the doorway. Probably much worse than his imagined worst case scenario, and Cub had to fight the urge to get up and run.

“Hi,” he managed instead, then, after the voices of literally everyone he knew started yelling in his head, he continued with a meek, “Sorry.” ‘That’s not genuine,’ something sneered, a mangled conglomerate of many voices, school teachers, old friends, parents- ‘Again, and mean it this time.’ “I’m really. Sorry.” Cub tried again, but it still wasn’t right, it still wasn’t human-

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” HotGuy said, far better at sounding like he meant it, “Nothing I haven’t heard before, though, usually that particular comment comes from kids,” Scar laughed, but seemed to realize pretty quickly that Cub did not find it very funny. Cub didn’t even want to know what his face was doing right now.

“I’m sorry.” That sounded better.

But HotGuy only cocked his head, something like concern dancing behind his eyes, though, it was hard to tell behind the visor. Cub didn’t even know what color they were. “Can I come in?” He sounded friendly. Cub’s voice didn’t seem to be working anymore, so he just nodded, miserable. HotGuy wasted no time doing just that, though he struggled a bit with the mess, another entirely mortifying thing to have to watch. Cub should get up. Do something about it. He didn’t, though.

“One of my prosthetics got damaged yesterday after we parted ways. CuteGuy wasn’t happy with me still, and he let me know it. The equipment is sturdy, obviously, it has to be, but there’s a lot of moving parts, and because I’m so active, maintenance has to be performed relatively often. Since one needs fixing up, might as well make sure the other is in tip top shape, yeah?” HotGuy was quiet for a moment, but Cub still couldn’t say anything, so the hero continued, looking curious, “Did you not know? That I’m an amputee?”

Cub opened his mouth to answer, but that just wasn’t going to happen, so he shook his head instead, embarrassment building. HotGuy looked entirely fascinated by that information, and there was some kind of odd open mouthed half-smile on his face, but Cub for the life of him could not tell what HotGuy was thinking. Luckily, the other wasn’t exactly trying to keep it a secret.

“I think I’m impressed. I also think I need to model with my wheelchair more. Goodness.” HotGuy stopped, plucking his phone from his pocket and looking something up, “No, that’s like- when you google me, that’s like the first thing that every website says about me! It’s what I’m known for- how-?” Cub cringed, but HotGuy didn’t seem to notice, shooting up in his chair.. Excited..? “You don’t even know how it happened! I bet you have no idea! Oh, I haven’t gotten to tell that story to anyone who didn’t already know in ages and- well, before when I told people the wounds were a little more raw if you catch my drift. Far more unpleasant- Oh!”

HotGuy was off in his own little world, and very clearly didn’t notice Cub flinch at the sudden noise. Honestly, Cub couldn’t even tell if he was looking at him.

“I’ll tell you at lunch! You’ll come to lunch with me, won’t you?”

Cub struggled to do much more than gape and gesture uselessly, and he wasn’t entirely sure if HotGuy understood what was happening, but he definitely recognized there was a problem, brows furrowed in concentrated thought. Finally, he clicked his tongue.

“I’ll give you the address! I’ll write it down,” HotGuy pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, humming to himself, before lighting back up, “And my number! Just in case you can’t make it. Or don’t want to come. You don’t have to come. But I really want you to! If you don’t come though you should text me. You don’t have to text me. But I’d really like if you texted me. Or call me! You don't have to call me. How does 1:00 sound?”

Cub stared, which apparently HotGuy took as a resounding yes, as he continued writing, just about as happy as can be. He tore the page out of his notepad then set it on Cub’s desk, patting it a couple times before turning right around with an enthusiastic wave, “Byeee!”

Cub scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth to say literally anything, but speech still wasn’t working out for him, and HotGuy was practically already out the front door. His manager was similarly speechless, but more in the normal way rather than the Cub way, so baffled, she wasn’t even wearing her signature customer service smile.

“Are you okay?” she surprised him with that, her tone far more gentle than he had expected, especially after a complete disaster. But she did look worried, and now that he thought a little harder about it, he had to guess he wasn’t looking so great. But Cub couldn’t say as much, so instead he ducked into the back room, returning with the note HotGuy had left for him.

Her eyes widened as she read it, complete disbelief evident in every feature on her face. Cub wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, he had no doubt she heard every word HotGuy said to him, but regardless, she returned the note, near silent.

“You should go.” She must have seen the distaste on Cub’s face before he even knew it was there, shaking her head, “You have to go. This- Cub! That’s HotGuy!” This was not in the least bit convincing, but his manager was a bit too distracted to notice. Honestly, he didn’t mind all that much. It was a little nice to be talked to like a friend. “Go, go on, rest up. Take as much time as you need, but if you don’t make it by 1:00 you’d better text him. Then tell me everything. He likes you, Cub!”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he simply didn’t.

Cub sighed through his nose as he turned around, fully intending on taking that break, but not on going to lunch. Lunch with a random famous guy was the last thing he wanted right now- god, and he’d kill for a nap. He frowned, but stopped short when he saw his desk, or rather, the little package on top of his desk. The visor screen- damn it.

It was HotGuy’s fault he had forgotten about it, but maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was Cub’s fault for making a complete fool of himself- HotGuy must have felt obligated to comfort him, surely. Embarrassing. Mortifying, even. If Cub never had to face the world again, it would be too soon.. But it would probably be responsible of him to actually give HotGuy the visor he came for in the first place. A proper apology.

He sat with a huff, eyeing the note with a creased frown. Yup, there was the name and address of the place HotGuy wanted to meet him, his number, and-

Cub dropped the little sheet of paper, then nearly fell out of his chair trying to catch it.

‘And HotGuy is a little much as far as names go, so please, call me Scar.’

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #cubfan #hermitfic #hermitshipping #not in this part much but in the next one #convex #cubscar #hotguy

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 13

Steve’s turn to come to the rescue? Hell yeah!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Steve’s painting was coming along really well. He was trying to get the expression on Eros’s face right. It was becoming a problem. There was just something about the eyes being closed that didn’t work.

But he was supposed to be asleep when Psyche came in, but when Steve tried to paint the eyes closed, he looked dead and not asleep.

Steve sighed and decided to talk to Joyce about it after class. He told Eddie go ahead to the parking lot and he’d meet him there.

“Hey, Mrs Byers,” Steve greeted. “I wanted to talk to you about my final.”

Joyce looked up at him and smiled. “Sure, Steve. What’s up?”

“I’m having a hard time getting the face right, can you help me?” he said and handed over the canvas.

She took it gingerly to avoid smearing the wet paint. “It looks as though the face is giving trouble.”

Steve nodded. “Especially the eyes. I want them closed for the Eros theme but with the pose he comes off looking like a corpse.”

“Which,” she said with a huff of laughter, “not the look you’re going for?”

“Absolutely not,” he agreed.

“Steve...” Joyce said gently. “You do know that the myths and stories idea is just a guideline? You don’t have to stick to a theme if you don’t want to.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Um...really?”

Joyce laughed. “Yes, Steve. Try it with his eyes open and I think you’ll find it will be fine.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Mrs Byers.” He gathered up his painting and walked to the door.

“Hey Steve?” Joyce called out. “Why do you call me Mrs Byers? Almost everyone else calls me Joyce, except the really young students.”

Steve flashed her a bright smile. “It’s what I called you when I was babysitting Will. It’s a hard habit to break.”

She tilted her head to the side and then nodded. “Fair enough. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Mrs Byers.” He winked at her and walked off.

Eddie was waiting by his van having a cigarette when he spotted someone coming his direction.

“Shit!” he looked to see if he could just hop in the van and get away, but the other guy was too quick.

“Eddie? Is that you?” the far too cheerful voice cried.

Eddie closed his eyes and flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath his boot. He opened his eyes and sneered. “Well, well if it isn’t Nick Mantrell. Did you get arrested?”

Nick was a tall man with light brown hair and deep blue eyes. His smile was as crooked as his personality.

“Daddy got me off,” Nick said with a smile that was supposed to be winning but Eddie had long since found to be smarmy.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course he did. But then, Martin Mantrell always did have more money than sense.”

Nick’s mask dropped and his face became a dark and sinister thing. “You keep my daddy’s name out of your dirty mouth.”

Eddie huffed out a chuckle. “Man, I thought you liked my dirty mouth.”

And suddenly the mask was back up. “You know I do, baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Nick?”

Nike grinned. “I just wanted to catch up. See what you were up to these days. It been so long since I saw you, baby.” He got close to Eddie and ran his hand down his arm.

“I’m doing fine,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “The band’s got an agent now and we just finished recording a demo that they’re going to shop around.”

Nick looked pityingly at him. “Oh that so sweet. And you’re sure he’s a real agent?”

Eddie frowned. He knew that’s how Nick would get under his skin. He hated how it almost worked again. “Pretty damn sure. His other clients include The Kestrels and Lonnie Hunter.”

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Those are some pretty big names, baby. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Eddie shoulders slumped. “Why are you here man? At the school I mean.”

Nick smiled smugly. “I’m here getting my degree in business. Daddy’s going make me VP once I graduate.” He batted his eyelashes at him. “What are you doing here? I thought higher education was against the Munson doctrine.”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably under Nick’s gaze. “I’m doing a favor for a family friend. I’m the live model for her art class this year.”

Nick licked his lips suggestively. “Too bad it’s too late to take the class. Maybe I can convince Daddy to let me audit it for the last few weeks. You always did look your best right before I fucked you.”

Eddie began to squirm. “I don’t think you can do that.”

Nick leaned further into Eddie’s space. “I think you’ll find I can do a lot of things with a little bit of persuasion and a lot of money.”

Eddie’s face burned with humiliation and shame. He just wanted to go home.

A warm arm slid around his waist and soft chuckle breathed in his ear.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Steve greeted cheerfully. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I hope you weren’t waiting to long.”

Nick reared back as if he’d been stung. “Who’s this then, baby?”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s side.

Steve cocked his head to the side and gave Nick his best mean girl smile. “Your worst nightmare unless you toddle off like a good boy.”

Nick sneered. “You always were a slut, Eddie. You would spread your legs for anyone with a good body and a playful smile.”

Steve eyed Nick up. “Honey, you aren’t my type and what Sunshine and I do is none of your business. Now shoo, before I get mad. And honey, the hulk’s a pussy cat in comparison.”

Nick turned on his heel and stormed off.

Steve sighed in relief. “Thank god that worked. I’m really bad at fighting and I would so fucking lose if we got in a fist fight.”

Eddie started giggling. And Steve flashed him a smile.

“You okay, now?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, thanks for that. That slimy piece of worm-ridden filth is my ex-boyfriend. Met him when I was still young and stupid. It wasn’t until after the third time he cheated on me that I walked away.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “I’m sorry he was harassing you. Guys like that are what give gay men a bad name.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “How did you manage to insinuate that we were together without out right lying?”

Steve frowned for a second. “Oh, the double talk?” Eddie nodded. “I learned it at the bar. It’s a customer service thing. Make them think that I promised them something when I really didn’t.”

Eddie laughed. “That’s amazing.”

“You still up for that coffee or do you want to go home?” Steve asked.

He leaned into Steve’s embrace further. “I just want to go home.”

“I’ll follow you to make sure you get home okay,” Steve said, gently removing his arm from Eddie’s waist. “Do you want me to keep up company until I have to go to work or would you rather be alone?”

Eddie immediately mourned the lost of Steve’s warmth. “Would you stay?”

Steve nodded. “Of course. I’ll meet you there okay?”

Eddie nodded back. Steve gave his arm a squeeze and then walked away.

Eddie watched him go, the warmth from Steve’s body making itself home in his chest.

Yup, he was so fucked.

Eddie led Steve up to his apartment feeling a tad nervous. It had been awhile since he brought anyone back to his place. And yes he knew it wasn’t like that, but his heart and his libido were screaming at him to change that in their favor.

He unlocked the door and let Steve go in first, fearing his reaction.

“Oh, wow,” Steve murmured. “This place is amazing. I have the same fucking floor plan you do and yet yours looks more homey and lived in then mine.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, how’s that?”

He closed the door behind them.

“Robin and I both had parents that decorated our rooms for us,” Steve explained, “so when we went off on our own we didn’t have any real idea of how to make it ours. So it looks like a catelogue.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked up. “Yeah, no. I can totally see that.”

Steve laughed.

“You want something to drink?” Eddie called from the kitchen.

“Just water is fine,” he replied. “But aren’t I here to take care of you?”

Eddie’s cheeks were red when he came out with a glass of water for Steve and a beer for him. “If you wanted to take care of me, big boy, we should have gone to your place.”

Steve grinned. “It’s not to late. I live two seconds away.”

Eddie grinned back. “Nah, it’s cool. I’m more comfortable here.”

Steve raised his glass, “Here’s to shitty exes coming back in our lives when we least expect it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Here’s that!” He raised his can and took a long drink.

“So how are things going on the finding fame and fortune front?” Steve asked after a moment or two of silence.

Eddie just shook his head. “I mean we finished the demo and our agent is going around to all the major labels starting with the ones closest to home and branching out. But it still feels like a pipe dream, you know?”

Steve cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “Is that what the slimy ex said? That it was just a pipe dream?”

Eddie huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yes, but he just pegged an old insecurity that I’ve had for awhile.”

“Nothing quite like having someone opening old wounds for fun,” Steve said.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I had just heard of bands getting record deals right out of the gate by preforming at the Queen’s Crown...and I–”

Steve set his water down and scooted closer to him, to place his hand on his knee. “You guys should have gotten the deal. I don’t know why the agent was the only one that saw your potential...but seriously, Eds, you killed it that night.”

Eddie looked up at him through his eyelashes. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “And not just because the new song was about me.” He winked at him.

Eddie burst out laughing. “So is the Jester and the King, you egomaniac.”

Steve winced. “Ouch! I’m assuming you wrote that one after I hit you?”

“Sure did, baby doll,” Eddie said with a grin. “And then after we talked I couldn’t leave it like that, so I wrote Thorns and Thistles.”

“It was beautiful,” Steve said, his expression soft and fond.

“I’ve been writing other songs for if they decided to give us the record deal,” Eddie said. “You want to hear some of them?”

Steve lit up. He looked at his watch and crumpled. “Shit. It’s almost time for me to go to work.”

Eddie deflated too. “Oh. That’s okay. Some other time.”

Steve got a wicked gleam in his eye. “You know...the new bartender hasn’t had an opportunity to tend with Opal yet...”

Eddie’s head shot up in shock. “Just what are you saying there, Stevie?”

“Well...” Steve continued. “Diamond has been saying I’ve been working too hard lately and that I should take more time to myself...”

Eddie’s eyes got the same wicked gleam, “Is Steve Harrington suggesting playing hooky for little ol’ me?”

Steve just grinned and pulled out his phone. He shot off two quick text messages. The replies came just as fast as he sent them. Both Robin and Diamond applauding his decision.

“Now, I’m all yours,” he said setting his phone aside and giving Eddie his undivided attention.

“How? Why?” Eddie stammered.

Steve’s face softened. “Look, I’ve earned some good will with Diamond after the incident with Nancy and I don’t mind using it to spend more time with you.” He put his hand back on Eddie’s knee. “Plus Crystal, the new bartender has to get use to running the whole night, he’s been there two weeks with me he needs to get used to working with Opal, because that’s who he’s going to be working with.”

“Chrissy,” Eddie corrected. “Call her Chrissy.”

Steve’s face brightened. “Chrissy then.”

Eddie hurried up to grab his electric guitar and sat back down. “This is one is called Flying Higher.”

Steve settled back into the cushions of Eddie’s sofa to listen.

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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the-fluff-piece · 1 year

Text

A heart for a heart

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader fluff story

Part 2!

...where Law decides to take you with him, but he cannot bring himself to actually spend time with you. Instead, he lurks behind corners and gets very lovesick. What's life on the polar tang like if you're a fresh pirate? Let's find out!

Here's part 1 if you missed it

Here's part 3

Themes: law is gonna talk really mean to himself over being a little cowardly creep

You

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his face: Trafalgar Law, the surgeon of death, the pirate, the samurai of the seas. His blue eyes were fixated on you. The dark circles under his eyes told you of his exhaustion. You recognised him from his wanted poster - he had an extremely high bounty for a newcomer.

He had told you how he had saved your life by giving you a new heart with his strange power. You could finally take deep breaths, think clearly with a quick mind - things that you thought you had lost forever. Thanks to him. "I am not doing this for free, mind you", he had told you eventually, after you were finished expressing your gratitude. He had a wonderful deep velvet voice, it was almost hypnotic to listen to him. "Your village offered beri and provisions as payment for your treatment, but I think it's only fair that you earn your life for yourself, don't you think?", he told you and you just nodded, even though you weren't sure what he meant. "It is decided than. You will work on my ship until you have cleared your debt to me. You have until noon to pack your belongings. We will leave for the next island, soon" He didn't wait for your reaction, he just left you in the hospital bed you woke up in, inside his strange, dark ship.

When you returned to the island, everyone in the village was so happy, and you and your brother celebrated your new life. When he heard what the price was, however, the cheers stopped. Your brother begged the pirate to take him instead, he was stronger than you after all and far more useful on a ship. But strangely, the captain persisted that you come on board. Everyone, pirates and villagers alike, where not thrilled by this idea. But, as he pointed out, he did save your life. And a deal was deal - any price would be payed.

So you packed your few belongings to earn your second life. He told you he would release you from his service in due time. This was only temporary, and you got to see the grand line. This wasn't all bad, you thought. Surely, he would realise that you where pretty much useless in a fight, that you weren't strong or skilled enough to navigate or repair the ship. You already saw lots of cleaning and cooking in your future.

They assigned you hammock in the crew quarters where everyone of the crew slept except the captain. It was a strange gathering: a giant, a bear, some weird guys with masks or hats that conceiled their faces - but you quickly got to know them as kind people, even if they were an odd bunch. Ikakku, the only other girl on the crew, took you under her wing to show you everything. Trafalgar Law however was rarely seen.

As expected, your duties consisted of mostly cleaning and cooking, since you where unfamiliar with the complicated mechanics of the submarine and fighting was not on your list of skills. The captain sometimes called you in for follow-up examinations when he would check your heart and general health. He didn't seem especially happy about your presence, even though it had been him who insisted on having you on the ship.

You thought the crew might come to loathe you as dead weight - but in fact they were happy to have help around the ship, especially since your cooking was far better than Bepos.

They even began showing you basic skills to survive in a battle, even if it was just evading hits so you wouldn't get hurt. Shachi and Penguin showed you a few moves with the sword, while the giant Jean Bart taught you about basic battle tactics. You got to help Ikakku fix up the machinery and learn about what a technical masterpiece the submarine really was. Evenings were spent talking and laughin around the table with the others, playing cards or drinking. The first weeks went by in a blurr and you learned and experienced so much, it seemed like half a lifetime has gone by.

It was disappointing that Law basically lived in his room the entire time, you had expected that he would take more of an interest in you, since it was him who wanted you on board. After another evening with your new crewmates, you felt invigorated and brave enough to just ask him on your own. It was widely known that Law didn't really sleep early, so you were confident that he was still up. You gave the door a knock.

you heard a shuffling noise and soft swearing behind the iron door before it was yanked open and you stood in front of an exhaustet and ungroomed, shirtless man. The tattoos on his hands were known to you - but not the giant jolly roger on his chest. You stared at his chest. The two of you needed a few moments to realize what you were seeing. You regained your composure first, trying to hide your surprise with a little cough.

"If this is a bad time I can always come back later? I just wanted to talk to you about something..." you explained to his shocked face. "Uhm...not at all. What do you need?" he asked suddenly casually leaning in his doorframe. Behind him was a pure mess of books, clothes and other scattered things.

"Well, I just asked myself...why did you want me here? I am not a very good pirate" you whispered, increasingly insecure about your idea as you saw his eyes draw together and his mouth forming into a pout.

"What, you want to leave?" he grunts.

"Uhm, I mean, I am grateful that you saved my life, but I feel that I cannot really help here." Your voice was a high pitched whisper just about now. His stare was brutal, his blue eyes cold as ice. His mouth twitched a few times as he tried to form words.

Pinching his nose, he finally answered: "You are right, you don't seem useful right now. I'll think about it."

Without waiting for your answer, he slammed his door shut.

That was a big pile of nothing, you thought.

What an ass.

Law

Idiot, what have you been thinking?, Law asked himself as he studied his exhausted face in the mirror. Taking an innocent civilian onto your ship because you can't handle your feelings. What kind of pathetic coward have you become? Lurking around the girl on your own ship, like a creep, Law thought.

He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he was hyper aware of where she was at any given time on the ship, watching her from afar. His obsession was frightening to him. Whenever he caught a glimpse of her, his heart would jump into overdrive; when she wasn't there, it was hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

When he decided to finally approach her and talk to her like a normal person, his courage vanished. As soon as he heard her voice an saw her smile, all the lines he had thought of seemed to fall out of his slacked jaw. In the end, he ordered her to an examination that she didn't need - it was just drtving his need to see and touch her. Her recovery was going great, she put on a healthy weight, her strength came back, her skin was practically glowing with life and beauty.

When he let his hands glide over her, her soft skin was like a drug to him. When he told her to remove her boiler suit and her top, her very own scent intoxicated him. And it drove him insane, knowing he couldn't have her. He executed every kind of tactile examination he could possibly think of to postpone her leaving, and prolong his shameless ogling and caressing. She patiently endured all of it. So innocent and trusting. Did she see him as a saviour or a monster? His heart was beating so hard he was sure that she could hear it. Did she suspect something? She didn't seem aware. When he was out of body parts to check he begrudgingly told her that she was in excellent health and could go about her day. She thanked him, got dressed and left the examination room, leaving behind a desperate man. His knees gave out and he sank to the floor. A pile of misery.

His strange behavior even went so far that he stole one of her used shirts, just to have her scent with him when he tried to sleep. He grasped the shirt in front of his chest and buried his nose deep in the fabric, imagining that she was lying beside him. It was a bad substitute, but better than nothing.

His angry eyes stared back at him from the mirror. He was unkempt and unshaven, his face pale and dark rings hung under his eyes. He looked like he was now the one who needed a new heart.

And how would he keep her safe? She was just a girl, he couldn't have her in a fight like at sabaody, or what if she got kidnapped? He didn't think about any of that when he had the glorious idea to just take her along. Shit.

He splashed cold water into his face to calm down. He had to get her back home. Had to turn around, find the island again. He would have-

Bepo stood in his door, silently staring, Law jumped: "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?!", he screamed.

"Long enough to see that you look like shit", the bear stated.

"Don't just say that to your captain!", Law reprimanded him. "Sorry", Bepo let his head hang down. Law buried his face in his hands out of frustration. "What do you want, Bepo, don't you have anything to do?" he asked in an unnerved voice. "You know Law, as your friend I have to tell you that you look really unhappy since we got our new crew mate. What's the matter?" he inquired.

"He's love sick is what's happening" Shachis voice came from the hallway behind the large mink. "My two beri to this are: talk to her and resolve this or leave her on the next island. You're putting us all at risk if you're miserable all day. This is the grand line, we are wanted men. If you're not at your best, someone will get us" he reminded Law of his duties as captain.

Law was painfully aware of all of that. He knew his crew needed his protection. He had a plan to execute, a man to avenge. His face burned with anger - at himself, at this situation. His stupid heart. He knew what he had to do.

"On the next save island, we leave her. Give her enough beri to take transport back to her home." he said.

Bepo and Shachi looked at each other and nodded. "Aye, aye captain!", they said and turned to go. Bepo hesitated. "Are you sure that's what you want?", he asked. "It's what needs to be done" Law said, adding: "And close the door behind you". He didn't need his men to see his tears.

______________________________

Next chapter preview (I do that now because I *checks notes* did some actual planning on this):

And now is your chance to tell me what to do better next time, what is a motif you like to see? Let me know in the comments or write a dm!

Law tries to get you back home the safest way he can think of: by dumping you on an island with a handful of beri - but keeping an eye on you anyways. Finding out your little secret? And some bounty hunters are also in the mix. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Part 3 out now, continue reading right away

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x y/n #law x you #law x reader #x you #trafalgar law x reader #reader insert #one piece x reader #sfw law #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgardwaterlaw

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raineandsky · 1 year

Text

#22

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

“How on earth did you get in?”

There is a teenager standing on the other side of the villain’s desk, seemingly uncaring to the fact that he’s somehow broken into his private office without issue. He just gives the villain an innocent smile.

“The windows aren’t really… guarded,” is all he says, and the villain makes note to double to security. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Clearly,” he snaps back, hoping his sharp tone will hide his concern. How did a kid get in – and if he can, have goddamn heroes gotten in under his radar?

“I wanna apply. Here,” the teenager tries, practically radiating nerves when the villain’s gaze turns incredulous. “To work.”

“To wo–” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Are you old enough to work?”

“I’m sixteen.”

The villain barely believes that. He doesn’t look a day over twelve. “Sorry, why would I hire a teenager?”

“I have two good reasons. I can show you the first one.” The child raises his hands, aiming just past the villain’s head, and a moment later a shot of lightning shoots from his palms. The volts sting against the side of the villain’s head as it passes to crumple just behind him with remarkable violence. He spins in his chair to stare at the wide dinge now decorating his once pristine white wall with poorly contained shock.

“The second thing. I, uh…” the teenager’s confidence falters, his gaze dropping nervously to his feet as the villain twists back to look at him. “I was in the agency.”

The villain raises his eyebrows amusedly. “And you think that makes me… want to hire you?”

“I hate them,” he blurts, as if the words needed to come out. “I used to be [Hero]’s sidekick, but she treated me like shit and everyone else acted like I was stupid.” He finally raises his head again to meet the other’s eye. “I want to get them back. I have inside information.”

“That’s one hell of an offer,” the villain says slowly, and the kid nods enthusiastically. “You sure you want to throw your lot with the bad guys?”

“I wanted to throw my lot in with the bad guys when [Hero] almost drowned me in an agency toilet for a joke,” he says sourly, and the villain pulls a face of pure disgust. “And… I heard you guys have social nights sometimes.”

“You’re sixteen. You don’t get alcohol,” he reminds him, before clearing his throat to put on his business voice. “Okay, well, you could be valuable. I don’t trust you–”

“That’s fair.”

“– so you’ll stay in this building under close watch until I decide you’re not going to stab me in the back. In the meantime, I’ll make sure no one tries to drown you in a toilet. It’ll at least be in a sanitised bucket. Okay?”

The kid smiles brightly, and the villain can’t help but wonder what kind of future he would’ve had with the agency. “Thank you so much, sir. I won’t let you down.”

The villain waves him off nonchalantly, dipping his head back to the work on his desk to mask his own victorious smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. Save it for when we both get what we want.”

(Part 2)

#writing #creative writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writblr #heroes and villains #this one is a tad short but alas i been a busy boy recently

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aero-dienamics · 10 months

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Generation Loss || The Ler of the Cabin

PART 2.

Summary: As Ranboo continues exploring the cabin, he finds a new friend. He helps him escape in hopes of leaving this place together.

Word Count: 3823

TW: Swearing ????

Authors Note: GAHHH DAMN !!! Thanks for all the support!!! My like goal for each fic will probably be about 35 likes in 3 days to keep me going!!! I just didn’t expect you guys to like the first one so much

Fair warning, this fic is VERY lee!sneeg heavy for no reason in particular.

Part 1

⚠️ This is a sfw tickle fic!! ⚠️

———

Finally, back on track.

Now that the Slime man was gone, Ranboo could continue his search for some exit. He took a deep breath to steady himself after the encounter. Since he now regained free roam of the cabin, he decided to take a good look at the gameshow room. The first thing Ranboo checked out was the walls. He somehow never noticed that they were covered in slime, making the room feel even more claustrophobic. He looks up to see the ceiling also covered in gunk. That's just unnecessary.

Shaking off the disgust, he continued to walk around, finding more slime-covered objects and eventually just an entire jar of slime. Ranboo knew he would throw up if he looked at anything else. He was desperate to find a way out of this strange place. As he walked to the room's exit, he saw another door in the corner of his eye. Ranboo decided to go up to it, quickly inspecting it. Thankfully, there wasn't any goo on it.

"I might as well," He sighed, slowly turning the doorknob and opening the door.

Stepping through the door led Ranboo into yet another new area, but this time it looked more like the cabin's main room. It was a type of storage room, but the only items in there were antique kid's toys. "What the hell? What is this place?"

With nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, he decided to look around. The first item that catches his eye is an old dollhouse. Its presence felt oddly familiar to him. He walked around to the front of it to see a normal-looking house. Something about it seems familiar to him. In the bedroom of the dollhouse, there was a small lock. It was closed, which isn't helpful, but Ranboo puts it in his pocket anyway.

His curiosity was piqued, and he continued to check the corners of the room, finding creepy dolls and a lot of cobwebs. He even finds a white towel on one of the shelves. Considering the room's dirty, the towel was surprisingly clean, so he took it.

The last object he found was a letter opener. For something that opens notes, it was surprisingly sharp. With that, his pockets were completely full. Ranboo was about to press on with his search, but something unexpected happened.

"Yo, yo, wait, who is that?"

Ranboo turned around quickly at the sudden noise he just heard. He thought he was alone.

"Hello?" Both Ranboo and the voice called out at the same time, both equally confused. Ranboo initially thought it was the Slime Demon, but the tone of this person's voice was different. It had a much softer edge to it.

"Where are you?" Ranboo questioned, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

"Duh, I'm in here," The voice said very matter-of-factly.

"That's not very helpful…"

"You know, the cage in the corner, there's a tarp…"

"Cage…?" Ranboo slowly pinpoints the source of the voice to a small cage in the corner of the room. He removes the tarp to see another person. It wasn't the slime demon; it was someone entirely different. It was a man in a blue and white hoodie and a grey ballcap. He seemed friendly enough.

"How the hell were you looking all the way over there?" The man spoke in a semi-annoyed tone. Ranboo shrugged.

"I don't know, I don't have a good sense of direction. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Sneeg, nice to meet you," Sneeg smiled happily, sticking his pinky through the grates of the cage for Ranboo to shake.

Ranboo hesitantly and carefully shook Sneeg's pinky. The masked man tried to smile back with his eyes, but it was obvious he was nervous. "You as well. I'm Ranboo. Have you been trapped in there all by yourself?"

Sneeg chuckled nervously. "What? No, I'm not alone in here. Don't you see my friend Frank here?" Sneeg pointed to the skeleton next to him.

Ranboo raised an eyebrow, observing the lifeless skeleton. "You mean that skeleton right there?"

"Skeleton? What are you talking about? Frank is very much alive," Sneeg said, picking up his skeleton 'friend.'

"He looks dead."

Sneeg gasped at Ranboo's audacity, covering Frank's 'ears' to shield him from Ranboo's harsh words. "Shhhh, he's very self-conscious."

"Frank… that name is so familiar. I think that slime guy killed him."

Sneeg's eyes widened. That was probably the most appropriate and only response to a mention of that man's name. "Slimecicle? You interacted with him too?"

Ranboo is slightly glad he isn't the only victim. "Yeah? What'd he do to you?"

"Well, he made me play this game show, and when I got the first question wrong and spun the wheel, I got tickled for a day straight. Then he put me in this cage because I passed out."

"Jesus Christ. That's horrible."

"Hey, it could be worse."

"What could be worse than getting attacked and then being put in a cage?"

"Being put in two cages."

Ranboo let out a half-hearted chuckle, feeling the weight of their shared experiences. "Yeahhh, alright, cool. I'm gonna try and get you outta here." Ranboo backed away from the cage and knelt down to the lock that was holding Sneeg. The only things he has in his pockets are the three keys he 'used' to enter the last room, a letter opener, and a lock. He initially tried using the keys, but when that didn't work, he just started yanking on it. "No, that didn't work... uhm."

"I don't know what to do. All I have is this lock." Ranboo pulled out the lock he found earlier, swinging it around his finger before presenting it to Sneeg.

"Wait, what kind of lock do you have?"

Ranboo looked down at the lock, squinting at the label. "It says it's a master lock."

"What kind of lock is on my door?"

"… A master lock as well."

"Just kind of slam them together. The easiest way to open a master lock is with another master lock."

Ranboo shrugged and complied, having no faith that this'll actually work. He used all his strength to smash the lock on the cage with the other lock. To his surprise, the lock opened and fell to the ground.

"I'm surprised that worked." Ranboo slowly got up before opening Sneeg's cage. "Be free."

"Eh, I'm too scared to go first. Frank, you gotta test the waters for me." Sneeg picked up Frank and pushed him closer to the exit.

"I swear to you, it's fine, just come out."

Sneeg ignored Ranboo and threw Frank out of the cage, looking around to see if anything was going to attack him. "Frank! Is it safe?"

This whole ordeal made Ranboo realize he just found another eccentric person. "… I think everywhere is safe for Frank."

After a few seconds, Sneeg finally decided to join Frank, slowly stepping out of the cage and taking a deep breath of freedom. He turned to Ranboo with a grateful smile. "Thanks, man. I was stuck in there for so long."

The man stretched his body before picking Frank back up and holding him in his arms like an Amazon box. For being locked away for god knows how long, The man looked surprisingly well-kept. He didn't have an odor and he didn't look dirty. Well, at least he wasn't covered in slime.

"So, how long have you been in there?" Ranboo asked, expecting Sneeg's answer to be a short period of time.

"A month or 6," Sneeg said nonchalantly, acting like it was normal.

"What."

"Yep. I've just been chilling in there with Frank," Sneeg responds, putting Frank on a little toy horse in the room. "Don't tell Frank this, but if you didn't come sooner I would've ate him to survive."

Ranboo nods slowly, no longer feeling safe around the new person he found. ".. ok… I'm gonna look for more items… you... do you…" He said as he slowly walked to the other corner of the room to pretend to look at stuff.

Sneeg notices a giant box in the middle of the room, opening it and looking inside. "Why is there such a big box in the corner of the—"

"AHA!!" Slimecicle pops out of the box in the corner clumsily and awkwardly. Ranboo yelps and Sneeg looks at him in surprise. How long was he in there? Ranboo didn't see him come in, so he either just appeared, or he had to be in there for a while.

"I see you've fallen for the oldest trick in the book! AHAH.. ehh, hold on.” He looks at himself in proximity to Sneeg, realizing that he can't reach him.

"Uh, can you come a little closer, Sneeg? I need you to stand right here on this inconspicuously marked X."

"Oh, no problem!" Sneeg said happily, taking a big step closer to the slime demon. Ranboo looks absolutely befuddled.

"Thanks. NOW YOU'VE FALLEN FOR THE OLDEST TRICK IN THE BOOK! PREPARED TO BE SLIMED, SNEEG!"

"AHHH!" Sneeg screams, but he doesn't run; he doesn't even make an attempt to move. Ranboo is clearly signaling for Sneeg to get out of there, but it's like he isn't paying attention. Ranboo felt semi-responsible for the man he had just let out of a cage, but he didn't know what to do.

"I gotta get extra goopy for this," Slimecicle said, shaking his hands quickly. After a while, the amount of slime on his hands became noticeably more prominent, and it looked greener.

Slimecicle reaches his extra slime hands up to Sneeg's neck before spidering his fingers across his sensitive skin. Sneeg immediately and scrunched up his neck.

“Ohoho my gohohod, gross!” Sneeg reaches up to Slimecicle's hands to try and pull him away, but all that does is get more slime on him.

Slimecicle scoffs, pretending to look hurt. "You guys are so rude. Calling me gross. You deserve this!"

“Fuhuhuck, Ihihim SOHOHORRRY!!” Sneeg's laughter raises an octave in surprise as Slimecicle's hands move down to Sneeg's shoulders, squeezing and pinching them to his heart's delight.

"WELCOME TO THE GHOULDOM! YES!" Slimecicle manically laughed like an evil villain as he continued to tickle Sneeg.

Ranboo doesn't wanna watch, but he can't look away. It was highly flustering to watch, especially since he imagined how it would feel if it happened to him.

“RAHAHANBOO, A LIHIHITTLE HELP?” Sneeg reached out to Ranboo, allowing Slimecicle to sneak his hand under Sneeg's armpit and start quickly and gently scratching his fingers on his soft skin. This caused Sneeg to throw his head back in ticklish agony.

Ranboo quickly backed away, adverting his gaze and avoiding the situation. “Nooo… sorryy…. No thank you."

Slimecicle shook his head in disappointment. "What an asshole. Can't believe you wanna help that guy. I can fix that, though!"

Ranboo felt terrible for not helping Sneeg but didn't want to get involved. He thought if he kept his distance and maybe ran in a few seconds, he'd be fine. But before he could finish contemplating his bail, Slimecicle let Sneeg go. Fortunately, Sneeg looked the same (except he was now covered in a bunch of slime), but there was something different about him. Something off.

"What did you do to Sneeg?" Ranboo questioned, trying to sound intimidating. His tone just came off as fearful.

“Sneeg is no more, Ranboo! This is EVIL Sneeg!”

The only thing that made Evil Sneeg different from regular Sneeg was that his hat was now backward.

"GET HIM, SNEEG!" Slimecicle cheered Sneeg on, looking happy and proud of himself.

"Hey, buddy? What're you doing?" Ranboo's voice quivers as he takes a step back, a wary expression on his face. Sneeg, a mischievous glint in his eyes, wiggles his fingers at Ranboo, sending a shiver down his spine. Before Ranboo can protest any further, Sneeg pounces on him with surprising agility.

Ranboo's protests turn into muffled laughter as Sneeg begins to kneed his fingers into Ranboo's ribs. He squirms and wriggles, desperately trying to escape the relentless onslaught. "Sneheheeg! Snahahap OUT ohof ihihit!!" Ranboo's words come out in gasps between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

But Sneeg, under the influence of the slime, seems impervious to Ranboo's pleas. He smirks, his fingers dancing across Ranboo's sensitive ribs.

"Sneeg can't hear you, Ranboo! He's under the influence of my slime!" Slimecicle exclaims with an evil laugh, his voice dripping with mischief and amusement.

Ranboo's laughter mixes with frustration as he struggles against Sneeg's relentless tickles. "Why ahahahare you soho strohohong??" He manages to giggle out, his breath hitching with each ticklish sensation. No matter how much Ranboo pushed on Sneeg, he wasn't strong enough to push Sneeg off of him.

Sneeg's grin widens, enjoying the playful power he holds over Ranboo. "Why are you so weak?" he teases, his fingers precisely finding every ticklish spot. Eventually, Sneeg's fingers found their way to a place that Ranboo couldn't seem to avoid: his belly. Ranboo tries to protect himself, but Sneeg's fingers easily slip under his defenses and onto Ranboo's belly, slowly tracing little circles on Ranboo's skin.

The tickling continues, unabated, as Ranboo's pleas grow louder and more desperate. "SNEHEHEHEEG! GEHEHEHET AHAWAY!!" His voice strains with both laughter and a plea for mercy.

"No can do, Ranboo!" Sneeg replies, his laughter intertwining with Ranboo's. Ranboo grabbed his towel from earlier and began wiping the slime off his head and shoulders. It was a bit hard to concentrate, but eventually, Ranboo got enough goo off of Sneeg to make him stop.

Ranboo sighed in relief as Sneeg sat up, looking confused. He flipped his hat back around, turning to the slime demon.

"NO, HE'S TOO DRY!" Slimecicle cried out in dismay. He looked over at the edge of the box and down at Sneeg. "How do you feel, Sneeg?" Slimecicle questions.

Sneeg shrugs and gets off Ranboo. "Fine."

Slimecicle rolls his eyes and sinks back into the box. "Shit."

Ranboo pats Sneeg on the shoulder. "Glad to have you back, Sneeg," He says before noticing how much slime was on Sneeg's shoulder. He just kind of wiped it off on his pant leg.

Slimecicle, who was looking disappointed, sat awkwardly in his box.

"Can you close the box?" He asked sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah," Sneeg complied, closing the box on the demon.

"I'LL GET YOU NEXT TIME!" Slimecicle calls out as his voice fades away.

Ranboo chuckles and shakes his head. "He said that last time, and he still hasn't gotten us."

"So, what now?" Sneeg says, shrugging.

Ranboo thinks for a second, "I guess we try to find a way out of here. The only door that I haven't opened is that side door up front."

"Then let's go."

Ranboo leads Sneeg back through the rooms of the cabin before arriving in the room he originally woke up in. They stop at the chained up door, stuck on what to do next.

How are we gonna get these chains off this door?" Sneeg pondered, his fingers running along the cold metal links. The chains seemed impenetrable, their presence a barrier to their escape.

Ranboo joined him, studying the chains with a thoughtful expression. As he reached out to touch them, an unexpected surge of energy flowed through his fingertips, causing the chains to crumble and fall to the ground with a resounding clatter. "Oh, well I guess that worked out," he remarked, a mixture of surprise and relief evident in his voice.

With the obstruction removed, they pushed open the door, revealing a dimly lit bedroom beyond. The room exuded an eerie ambiance, with antique furniture draped in faded fabrics and shadows dancing along the wooden walls. A picture of what appears to be the slime demon was hanging on the wall. Sneeg stepped cautiously inside, taking in the peculiar atmosphere. "Oh. It's a bedroom?" he mused, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Ranboo followed suit, his eyes scanning the room's decor. "I wasn't expecting this," he admitted, his gaze lingering on an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. Its reflective surface seemed to hold secrets, whispering enticingly of hidden mysteries.

Sneeg's attention was drawn to another peculiar feature of the room. "Does that wall look real to you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the smooth surface before them. It appeared almost too perfect, devoid of imperfections or cracks.

"No, not really," Ranboo replied, his curiosity piqued. He rummaged through his pockets and produced a letter opener, its gleaming blade catching the dim light. "Here, I found this letter opener earlier. Maybe we can use it to slice it open," he suggested, extending the tool towards Sneeg.

Sneeg hesitated, a touch of concern in his voice. "Do we have to cut his wall, though? That seems rude," he voiced his reservations, mindful of the potential consequences.

Ranboo's response was firm, laced with determination. "He locked you in a cage, Sneeg!"

Sneeg groaned, hesitatingly taking the letter opener from Ranboo. "I don't want him to be super mad, though," he admitted, a hint of worry tugging at his features.

"Just cut the wall, Sneeg!" Ranboo urged, his voice betraying a sense of urgency and impatience.

"Ok, ok, jeez. You don't have to yell at me," Sneeg replied with a playful pout, accepting the responsibility. He took a deep breath, steadying his hand, before guiding the letter opener's blade towards the seemingly illusionary wall.

The blade made contact with the wall, and with a swift motion, Sneeg sliced through the deceptive surface. A split-second of anticipation hung in the air before their eyes widened in awe and disbelief.

"It looks like nothing's in there—OH MY GOD," Sneeg exclaimed, his voice a mix of astonishment and terror. A monster suddenly emerged from the darkness, grabbing him from behind. "HELP ME!"

"WHAT IS THAT?! IS THAT A SHARK? Maybe it's a pickle? No, it looks more like a lobster…" Ranboo's bewildered voice interjected, attempting to make sense of the horrifying sight before him. His words, a mix of confusion and nervousness, betrayed his attempt to cope with the terrifying situation unfolding in front of him.

"YOU'RE NOT BEING HELPFUL RIGHT NOW!" Sneeg's voice trembled with a mix of fear and frustration, his plea for assistance growing more urgent.

"SORRY! Sorry! What do you want me to do?" Ranboo stammered, his voice laced with anxiety as he struggled to gather his thoughts and find a solution.

"I don't know, just try and get me Ohohut- RAHAHANBOO!!" Ranboo was confused why Sneeg was suddenly giggling, but he looked down at the monsters hands to see they were poking all over Sneeg’s belly.

"Oh god, is it—of course it is." Ranboo immediately turned around and looked away, pretending to not notice the fact that the monster was tickling Sneeg right in front of him.

"Ranbohohoo, help me!!"

In a panic, Ranboo stammered, trying to convince himself that leaving was the right decision. "Nooo… I'm- I'm good. You got it. I'm gonna go!! I'm totally gonna go get help!" Ranboo says, giving Sneeg a thumbs up as he backs up.

"RAHAHANBOO! DON'T LEHEHEAVE ME HEHEHERE!"

"You totally got this!!" Ranboo's words, though intended to be encouraging, held a hint of self-doubt as he made a hasty retreat, leaving Sneeg on his own. He sped walked back into the main room, letting Sneeg's screams of laughter leave his ears until it finally faded away.

Ranboo was fine, but he felt wrong for leaving Sneeg alone with a monster. This was the second time he turned his back on him, and he didn't want to do it again. "I feel bad. maybe I should go back…." Ranboo then slowly steps back into the room he left Sneeg in, ready to face anything that might be in there. Yet, there was nothing.

"Sneeg? Helloo?" He called out, hoping for a response. Ranboo was met with nothing but silence. He looked at the hole in the wall, seeing no one around. Despite his better judgment, he walks into it.

"Sneeg…?" He calls out one last time. But, instead of finding Sneeg, he sees another familiar face sitting in a chair in front of him. Ranboo knew precisely who it was. "Ahhh, Jesus."

Slimecicle got up and turned to the other. It was apparent he was seething with anger and hate. "YOOU. You made a gross-ass hole in my wall. You fucked with my- my sharkiklester."

Ranboo tried to defend himself, his voice tinged with exasperation. "I didn't hurt it! But jeez, that thing needs to be put in a cage."

"A cage, huh?" Slimecicle scoffed, beginning to walk towards Ranboo with ferocity. "When I'm done with you, I'm gonna put YOU in a cage. AND THEN MAYBE I'LL PUT YOU IN ANOTHER CAGE!"

"Yeah, I'm not doing this again." Ranboo began to walk away, but Slimecicle grabbed him by his shirt.

"I don't think you have a choice."

Ranboo pushes the demon off of him before wiping some slime off of him. "Look, Slimecicle, I'm not trying to fight you right now."

"That's all too bad, isn't it?? Get over here!"

Ranboo tries to protect himself, but it was too late; Slimecicle had Ranboo in his slimy clutches. Ranboo almost immediately started squirming around, knowing too well about what’s about to happen next.

"Please, I can't do this again!"

"You should've thought of that before you fucked with me!" Slimecicle then began digging his fingers into Ranboo’s armpits.

“Wahahait! Dohohon’t!” Ranboo started giggling as soon as the Slime Demon touches him, not being able to contain his laughter from everything he’s experienced today.

"You should be lucky I'm not covering you in Slime!"

“Thihis is juhuhust as bahahad!” Ranboo started thinking of ways to save himself, but his train of thought was suddenly cut off by a bunch of fingers poking at his lower back. “GAHAHAHA! WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL??”

"Oh! That's a new spot! I didn't think this spot would be that bad for you, but here we are!" Slimecicle says proudly before quickly scribbling his fingers against Ranboo’s back.

"FUHUHUCKING STOP!" Ranboo squeals through a mix of cackles and snorts.

"Oh, now you're cursing? How out-of-character of you." The Slime Demon says smugly, not letting up in the slightest.

Through all Ranboo’s struggling, the towel he had earlier started slipping out of his pocket. A great idea rushed to his head. In one swift motion, he grabbed his towel and started wiping the slime off of Slimecicle, making sure not to miss a single spot.

“AUGHH DAMN IT!” Slimecicle screamed, releasing his grip on Ranboo as he did so. The masked man didn’t stop for one second. He kept going until the demon was no more; Slimecicle was now just a green stain on a towel.

"I think… I killed a man.” Ranboo said in a shaky breath, laying on the ground. “Thank god."

#genloss tickle #lee!ranboo #ler!slimecicle #lee!sneeg #ler!sneeg

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gina103 · 2 months

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Girl From The Belly Ch 1

New story alert! I'm super excited to introduce these characters and their stories to you guys, and I hope you like it! there are lots of plans for this world and where it's going! You can expect chapter 2 tomorrow!

Ch 1 - word count: 1906 Previous - Next

The clang and clashing of swords filled the air.

It was a beautiful thing to witness. The two men swished and swashed their blades at each other with the poise and grace of a swan. Their masks hiding their undoubtedly sweaty faces from view. The men paused for a moment, taking a break from their battle no doubt. The taller one of the two removed his mask, shaking out his rich dark brown hair which was damp from sweat. The man was incredibly handsome – with a chiseled, strong jawline, and kind – watery blue eyes that anyone could get lost in. His sweaty face was slightly pink with the healthy glow of exercise. The man was of course, Crown Prince Cassian of Feywen who was finishing up his fencing lesson – and had no idea that he was being watched. High up on the wall, almost meeting the ceiling, was a tiny circular opening – a window. Staring out that window, watching the prince with a gaze so intense with admiration and infatuation was Adalina.

She was a borrower. At her height of 5 inches, she was a petite, spritely-looking girl of 19 with a face that was perpetually pink and freckled with the glow of youth and brightness. Her long, hazelnut colored hair was as always, unbrushed and almost wild with fly aways that framed her face, giving her the appearance of constant good humor and friendliness. Her sweet hazel eyes stared out the window at the prince with such vigor, watching him closely as he moved. How does one appear so graceful, yet so masculine and strong? So noble, so heroic, so –

“Lina!”

Adalina shouted in surprise and smacked her head on the dingy and low ceiling in her attempt to stand up. She was shocked to see her older sister, Eunice, standing before her with her arms crossed in disapproval. She was quite different in appearance from her sister, with a skinny build and fair skin which contrasted with her rich chestnut brown hair and equally dark eyes that contained quite an air of wisdom and a little bit of self-importance, in Lina's opinion.

“Just what in the world are you doing up here?” she asked crossing her arms, “how did you even find this passageway?

“M-Mrs. Acorn told me about it,” Lina explained guiltily.

“Of course she did," Eunice sighed exasperatedly, "how would she even know about it though? What purpose could a passageway with a window overlooking the fencing room even serve?”

The sound of clashing swords echoed around said fencing room, the soundwaves were carried up to the little spot in the wall which afforded the view.

Eunice went quiet listening, before marching over to the window her younger sister was just peeking out of – bending low so as not hit her head on the low ceiling. She took one look out the window, at the two men fencing below and let out another very, very disappointed sigh.

“Watching the prince again?” Eunice said to her sister in a stern tone, “you know what? I don’t have time to get into it with you again. Mama was looking for you, she needs help with the laundry.”

Lina slouched her shoulders, letting out a pout of air and deflating like a child who was told it was bedtime. Her hazel eyes pleaded with her sister’s begging her not to take her home, but Eunice was having none of it.

“Come on,” she said – grabbing Lina’s arm and dragging her away from the window, away from the prince, and back home to The Belly.

Down the long rickety staircase they went, traversing through the cramped and claustrophobic passageway. Eunice pulled her younger sister along as the hall twisted and turned before them. There was a small hole at the end of the hallway, which opened up into a larger, more traveled passageway. Making a right turn, they proceeded further. Lina had shaken off Eunice’s grip at this point, thinking dejectedly about all the chores they would have to do upon arriving home. Her mother was a wonderful woman, but she could sure put her girls to work.

They passed a few other borrowers and some watchmen on patrol; Lina knew with a sinking heart that they were very close. Watchmen were like the palace guards of The Belly, they traversed the hundreds of tunnels and passageways closest to home every day, checking to make sure no unwelcome guests such as mice, rats, roaches and spiders have made a home in them.

At Last, they made it to the largest and most traveled tunnel, which led straight into the heart of The Belly. To put it short, The Belly was home. It had been home as long as Lina could remember. It was a large colony of borrowers, the population of which had just recently hit 300 – situated perfectly underneath the kitchens and storerooms of Silvenia Palace. As the girls made their way through the large front gates, they were waved at and greeted by neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. If you looked up to the sky – or the ceiling, there were thousands of twinkling lights bestowing their glow upon the town and giving it light. There were houses that were stacked on top of each other, with small wooden doorframes that you had to stoop to enter, alive with the activities of families. mothers carrying large clay pots to their nearest waterpump, children laughing and racing each other up and down the rickety wooden staircases, fathers carrying bags full of tools and wares to the market to trade for goods. The Belly was a bustling place to live, indeed.

Eunice and Lina ascended a small staircase up to their family home. It was a quaint-looking house, Lina often imagined that if you were to attach a handle, a lid, and a spout, you could turn it into a teapot. There were other rooms and additions made to the house over the years of her family living there, giving it a very mismatched look. As the girls neared the circular front door, their mother, Mrs. Brook, burst forth in a frenzy. She was a sweet and friendly-looking woman in her mid-fifties with warm hazel eyes, light freckles, and smile lines. She was someone you could easily trust.

“Girls!” she exclaimed, “there you are! Come on, I just started the laundry.”

Their mother did what she did best, she put her girls to work. They handwashed, wrung, and hung up all the laundry to dry. They darned socks, shirts, and pants. They fetched water from the pump. They swept all the floors, washed all the pots and pans, dusted all the shelves, polished their father’s boots, and finally were able to rest after setting the table for dinner.

Lina and Eunice sat on the front steps of their home, absolutely exhausted, Lina leaned against the railing, barely able to keep her eyes open while her sister drank from a small cannister of water, keeping her eyes peeled for their father, Mr. Brook, and Idris.

Idris, the oldest child, a member of the watchmen, the pride and joy of his parents, would be coming home with his father after a long day of keeping The Belly safe. No wonder Mrs. Brook wanted to get all the chores done in one day. Watchmen – due to the distances they must cover on their patrols daily, can only come home once every two to three days or so, staying for a short time, and leaving again to patrol the vast network of tunnels. It was a tough, dangerous, and prestigious position. If your family had watchmen members, you were automatically a cut above the rest. You were respected and regarded as a family with a strong bloodline.

Of course, to be a watchman you had to first be a man, much to Lina’s annoyance. There was a time in her early childhood where she would’ve given anything to become a member. But her dreams were dashed, never in the history of The Belly had there been a female watchman. It was simply impossible, unheard of, ridiculous, ludicrous, and utterly idiotic according to literally everybody she knew and had spoken to on the matter. Lina hoped that one day, people would be more open to the idea, but until then, she was stuck at home doing menial chores and learning how to sew.

Emerging from a skinny alleyway in front of their home, Lina spotted her father and Idris approaching. Her father, a middle-aged man with a mane of grey hair and an equally untamed beard, had a face marked with smile lines from greeting customers and raising his children happily, a tall but worn-down stature, and a countenance of humility and kindness. His oldest son walked beside him in his green, well-fitted watchmen uniform, he carried both his backpack and his father’s sack which was very heavy, full of handmade wooden knick-knacks and tools. Idris was taller than his father, and had a well-built, athletic build, carrying his and his father’s stuff easily. He had a tentative beard coming in which would no doubt be shaved before he had to leave next, wavy brown hair, which was kept controlled underneath his green hat, thick eyebrows that drew his face into a near permanent scowl, and piercing dark eyes which always seemed to scrutinize and find faults in others at lightning speed.

Lina and Eunice both bowed their heads slightly in greeting before getting up to lead them inside. The scent of warm potato soup and cheesy bread wafted through the cracked open door, spurring Lina’s stomach into a frenzy. It was finally time to eat.

Cassian was utterly entranced.

His hands moved fluidly and gracefully along the grand pianoforte; this piece was his absolute favorite. The music floated into his ears and echoed throughout the music room, filling it with its sweet melody. His hands moved with a flourish. Muscle-memory and pure skill prevented him from missing a single note. His eyes were closed, his body swayed with the movement of the piece, feeling it with everything he had. Nothing could break the utter bliss of this moment, nothing could break–

“Pardon me your highness.”

Cassian slammed down on the keys. The horrid sound cut through the peace like a knife. He spun around on the bench to face Mr. Cutlet, the butler, with annoyance written all over his face.

“What have I said about interrupting me while I play?”

“My sincere apologies your highness,” Mr. Cutlet bowed, “I have merely come to inform you of his majesty’s insistence on you eating dinner with him.”

The prince’s lip curled in distaste.

“The engagement ball will be the only subject discussed, no doubt,” Cassian replied bitterly.

For months now, his father, King Edmund, had been planning and arranging a match between him and the duchess of Avila. They’d both been paraded around each other’s families, forced to speak to one another in disgustingly dull conversations, and now there was to be a ball planned in celebration of their engagement. Cassian could not be more disinterested, he was not happy to be forced to marry a woman whom he had nothing in common with, and even more disinterested in being once again, paraded in front of the entire kingdom.

“His majesty will not take no for an answer.”

The prince sighed deeply, “It seems I will have to appease him.”

“I shall have a place prepared then,” Mr. Cutlet said before bowing once more and leaving the room. Leaving Cassian to anticipate a dull and aggravating evening dinner.

#g/t writing #g/t #sfw g/t #the borrowers #giant/tiny #oc: lina #oc: cassian #oc: eunice #oc: idris #g/t community #borrowers #size difference #g/t fluff #Giant/Tiny #g/t original story

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roxannarambles · 8 months

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teal mask fixit-fic on the fly part 4

(Current story so far: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3)

The festival had been great fun so far, once you'd all managed to ditch Carmine. It was like any good festival should be; lots of bad fried food; lots of games that were rigged against the player but were cheap enough to try again and again and eventually earn silly prizes; and plenty of opportunity to just generally horse around and not worry about classes or other, weightier matters in life, at least for the evening. Arven was absolutely affronted by the fair food, clamining it to be a culinary crime, so you and Nemona made a point of buying the greasiest and worst snacks and treats so you could to eat them in front of him. Penny had worked out how they'd rigged one of the games--a basketball toss that Arven was annoyed he couldn't win-- and helped him win the next round. (Turns out the ball was intentionally over-inflated and the hoop was higher than regulation). Even Kieran seemed to eventually warm up to everyone and enjoy himself, showing you all one of his favorites of the festival, an informal contest that festival-goers had acting out the heoric feats of the Loyal Three while wearing their masks. After all that messing about, you all just wandered for a bit, enjoying the atmosphere and all the costumes.

Then Carmine caught up to the group again.

She was pretty annoyed, claiming you'd all ditched her; Kieran was quick to tell her that you'd all simply lost her in the crowds, and everyone backed him up on that point. She seemed unconvinced but dropped it, in favor of issuing a challenge to the Paldean students: She claimed none could beat her score at some game called Ogre Ousting and dared one of you to try.

It didn't surprise you at all that Nemona's eyes took on a competitive gleam and she stepped up to the plate to defend Naranja's honor.

"Sure, I'll give it a go!"

Carmine laughed in her face, saying,

"You? Oh, perfect. This should be fun to watch."

There was a heavy tone of sarcasm underlying her words, but Nemona just smiled at her, saying,

"Thanks! So, what are the rules?"

You listened as Carmine explained the game to her in as condescending a way as possible. It was starting to really grind your gears. This girl being snotty to you, you could handle that, but watching her treating Nemona that way was too much. When they'd finished talking and everyone started to walk to the seating that was meant for people observing the games, you reached out and grabbed Nemona's arm.

"Hold on a sec."

She looked at you curiously. You pulled a pokeball from your pocket and handed it to her.

"Here. Why don't you use Koraidon? Give that girl a taste of Paldean pride. I bet they've never had to contend with a pokemon like this before with their little berry game, would be fun to see their reactions."

Nemona's eyes widened a little, but then she shook her head, handing you the ball back.

"No, Koraidon is way faster than any Stantler. I don't want to have any unfair advantages!"

You frowned.

"I heard her explain the rules. Players are allowed to use any ride pokemon they want. It's not cheating."

"I know it's not cheating. But it still wouldn't be very sporting of me."

You sighed, frustrated. You adored Nemona's purehearted respect for competition, but for once it was making things difficult.

"Nemona, that girl isn't as nice as she seems. She was totally disrespecting you and, and . . . she doesn't deserve to be treated that nice, she deserves to be taken down a peg! Plus, she already has an unfair advantage over you. She's played this silly game her whole life, she knows it way better then you do."

Nemona smiled at you softly.

"I know. Thank you for looking out for me, Jules. But I did get the idea she doesn't like me all that much. I'm getting a lot better at noticing that kinda stuff. And I know she already has an advantage over me. But you don't have to worry. Win or lose, I'm gonna do my best and I'll make Paldea proud!"

You gazed at Nemona a moment, her eyes bright and determined.

Then you smiled and let out a sigh.

". . . okay, okay. You know I have complete faith in you, I know you'll do amazing regardless."

Nemona grinned.

"Damn right I will."

You laughed and the two of you went to join the others.

However, once Nemona was set up with the rental Stantler, she realized Carmine wasn't getting ready for the game.

"No, no, I'm not playing. I'm just watching. You have to beat my record, remember? I've already set the record." Carmine told her. Nemona considered that a moment.

"Well, that's boring!" she said.

"Why don't we make it a little more exciting for our friends to watch? We should both play the game at the same time. You have to defend your title right here, right now. Sound good?"

Carmine glared at her, protesting,

"That isn't fair! I shouldn't have to meet my record again, that's not how records work!"

Nemona cast her a curious look.

"You don't want to? I think it could be fun. Or are you worried you can't beat me?"

You smirked as Carmine's face flushed in anger and she growled,

"I could beat some clueless Paldean bug-catcher any time, day or night, with my hands tied behind my back!"

Nemona beamed at her.

"Great! So we're on?"

"Oh we're ON all right. Get your Stantler, I'll set up the second course."

It didn't take too long for them to prepare, and soon both girls were atop their Stantlers, in their respective positions, ready to roll. You and the others were seated in the bleachers, watching expectantly.

The referee called,

"On your marks . . . get set . . . GO!"

The two players were off like rockets, blasting through rows and rows of balloons.

"You can do it, Carmine!" Kieran called out tentatively to his sister.

"KICK HER ASS, NEMONA!" you shouted through cupped hands, startling Kieran. He seemed to think a moment and then stammered,

"Oh, I-I'm-- I'm sorry, I'm rooting for Carmine, but you know, I still like you all too, I just, um . . ."

You laughed and reassured him,

"It's fine. I don't mind, I get it."

"I'm rooting for Carmine too," Arven told Kieran. You shot Arven a glare.

"What? Kieran can but I can't?"

"Carmine's his sister, that just makes him a good brother. You however are being a traitor."

Arven huffed an annoyed noise.

"I am completely impartial," Penny declared, leaning back in her seat. Arven said,

"That just means you don't want to tick anyone off."

"Yeah? And how is that bad?"

"Shhhh, quiet guys, they're coming by to drop the berries off!"

Both girls had returned to the tables to drop off the berries they already had, their buckets laden heavy with the fruits. Then they were off again to gather more. You all spent the time trying to count the berries and estimate who was in the lead, as well as argue over tactics of blasting through the balloons and protecting the tables from Skwovets. The time limit was rapidly drawing to a close, and both girls seemed to be progressing at a very even pace. It was honestly imposible to tell who had the lead.

When the game was called, you all rushed down to the field to watch the referee tally the berry totals. It would come down to the final counts. Nemona stood there, stained in berry juice and beaming, looking tired but proud. You gave her a hug, not minding the berry juice and gushing,

"You did awesome, Nemona! It was your first time but you were running that course like you'd done it dozens of times already!"

She laughed,

"Thanks, Jules. It was really fun! A real adrenaline rush."

When you began to pull away from the hug, she paused to whisper to you,

"Y'wanna know my secret?"

You nodded eagerly. She murmured,

"While they were setting the second course up, I mighta spent the extra time wandering the course and studying it a bit. Thought it wouldn't hurt to be a bit prepared." She winked.

You gave her a proud smile.

"That's mi tesoro, always usin' her head."

"Y-you looked great out there, Carmine. I think you might have even beaten your old record," Kieran told his sister. She didn't acknowledge him, instead just standing there with a tense expression, watching like a hawk as the referee counted the berries one by one.

"He's right, you looked really in the zone out there, I was impressed!" Nemona told her sincerely. Carmine waved a hand and hissed,

"Quiet, I'm counting!"

Everyone fell into an awkward sort of silence as Carmine watched the referee finish tallying the berries. When he'd finally got through them all, he announced in a loud voice;

"Aaaaaand the winner of the Ogre Ousting for tonight . . . at a whopping 20,000 berries . . . isssss . . . ."

The dramatic pause apparently went on for too long, as Carmine snapped,

"Gah! Just tell us already!"

The man gestured to both girls.

"It's a dead tie! You both win!"

"WHAT?! That can't be right! Count it again!"

"I already counted it three times," the man said sternly,

"I take my job very seriously."

"Ugh, this is-- this is ridiculous," Carmine spat, clearly disgusted. Carefully, Nemona said,

"Don't feel bad, Carmine. I mean, we both won, you don't have to feel bad--"

Carmine snapped,

"We didn't both win! Two people winning means nobody won! We still have no clue who's better!"

Nemona frowned.

"Well, we know we're both really amazing at it? I think a tie is kinda neat--"

"Wait, I've got it!" Carmine interrupted, pulling some pokeballs from her fanny pack.

"If we can't settle this with Ogre Ousting, we'll just settle this with a pokemon battle!"

She looked at Nemona expectantly, full of confidance and defiance, as if incredibly pleased with her idea and eager to see Nemona's response.

Nemona was quiet a moment, and then a smile settled onto her pretty features. It was not one of her usual smiles; it was something much more subtle, something almost dangerous.

"A pokemon battle, huh?"

Nemona tossed you a glance and you could hardly hold back your grin and bite back your words, but decided it would be more fun to keep quiet. Nemona's eyes sparkled with mirth. Carmine glanced between you and Nemona, looking faintly confused. Nemona answered her lightly,

"I guess I could try it out! Promise you won't go easy on me, though. I don't wanna feel like I'm getting an undeserved victory or anything."

Carmine snorted.

"I can definitely promise you I won't go easy."

"Good."

You looked to Arven and Penny, smirking. Arven said hesitantly,

"Carmine, you miiiight wanna reconsi--"

"Hush, Arven, let them fight," you say to him mildly, putting a hand on his mouth to silence him. He swatted you away.

"Yeah, this could be fun to watch," Penny said, grinning.

Penny was right, the battle was incredibly fun to watch, but not in the way Carmine had been hoping.

#pokemon #pokemon s/v #pokemon scarlet/violet #the teal mask #pokemon dlc #spoilers #pokemon spoilers #the teal mask fix it fic #I am posting without proofing sorry guys it's almost midnight #and I gotta skedaddle and sleep #see u tomorrow #p.s. I do NOT remember what carmine's actual record was for this mini game so I'll fix the actual number later haha

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theerrorofmylife · 1 year

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Crime Fighter pt. 2

- So.... part 2... you guys asked and you shall receive! I meant to have this posted for Christmas but oh well. I am not confident whatsoever in my abilities to write smut, so please be kind. This is not for minors- I repeat THIS IS NOT FOR MINORS you’ve been warned.

Content: Reader stops by the Batcave under Wayne Tower after Bats calls them over for help on a case. However, things escalate because they are both incredibly desperate for each other.

Here’s Part 1: Crime Fighter

Warning: Sex, Lots of sex, kissing, making out, fingering, p in v sex, penetrative sex, THESE TWO ARE HAVING SEX, swear words, etc., I’m not sure what I missed but I know I did- HAVE AT THEE!

Rain pelted my helmet as I wove between cars and trucks in the upper Gotham streets, and holy shit was it cold. Days seemed to blur together since the migraine incident, and weeks became months became casually getting invited to the Batcave every other day. I’ll be the first to admit that I spent days and nights losing hours over him. Moments and singular little phrases blurred together the more I thought about it. Seconds spent holding his hand after he’d help me on my bike, little light touches on my back when we walked into a crime scene, the way he looks at me when I walk up to him after a case-well-closed. The little whisper that night… “he would love you” … the vivid memory of his lips on my forehead. I couldn’t care less if Bruce Wayne, billionaire recluse, loved me. I wanted this man, my Bat, to love me.

The stairs were all I could focus on as I made my way into the cave. Our latest case was still running through my head on repeat, slowly driving me insane. A series of medical equipment manufacturing plants had been robbed over the course of the last month, tallying up to a total of 7 buildings and over 25 pieces of equipment stolen. We spent night after night in the cave trying to figure it out, trying to stop whatever was going on before it happened. Over that time, I got to re-meet The Bat with new eyes. This man loves this one takeout place on South St. it was actually hilarious. To be fair, it was growing on me as well. If only we had been paying attention to the tiny details rather than trying to figure out the big picture, we would have noticed the tiny desk plant that went missing from the 5th building. Poison Ivy was using medical equipment to create a toxin that would grow plants in peoples lungs. Now, I never mind a good monstera deliciosa, but I do prefer them outside of my body. But that wasn’t important right now. Right now, all I could think about was the way he pulled me to his chest, turned us towards a wall and caged me with his arms so that a glass beaker would crash into his back rather than my face. I still vibrated with the ghost sensation of his hands.

“You called?” As he turned to greet me there was a smile on his face, a grin that had become so much more frequent, reserved just for when we’re alone. Parking my bike near his, a nervous glee set inside me, and I couldn’t stop the grin. He still hadn’t taken to removing the mask for me, but I knew that would take time, more time than we already had. And I was patient. For him, I would be patient.

“There’s some evidence I need you to look at,” I walked up past him to look at the monitors. He didn’t move, only made room by making a small space for me to stand in front of him. “You were always better at seeing the bigger picture.” He was directly behind me, the arm leaning against the table pressed against my side, he was so close I was sure he could feel my heart speed up at the closeness.

“Am I now?” Yes, yes act coy and snarky, let him build the conversation because clearly, I’m way too distracted by his arm to do it myself. I felt him shift, moving behind me, the arm that was pressed into my side lifting so that his hand pressed against my lower back as he passed behind me. The warmth that sunk in and then completely dissipated was intoxicating.

“You know you are.”

“Mm, I thought you were the great detective here. Why do you need me?”

“I want you.” My heart nearly fucking stopped. The goddamn implication of that statement, the ideas that it gave me. Sure, I had thought about it, you can’t blame me when this hunk of brooding emotional baggage was around 24/7. Ever since I spent the night after my migraine, he became a plague on my most intimate thoughts. First just passing thoughts, fleeting ideas and images. Then little daydreams and purely innocent wants. But after a time, it became an infection; a shiver as his hand brushed my lower back, my thighs crossing as he looked at me a certain way, and the heady feeling when he put his hand on my knee during an interrogation. His hands were the curse that tortured me though, his hands were huge and the thought of them on my waist, on my thighs, dipping between them… I was a lost cause, and I knew it.

He seemed to realize the implication as well, his eyes on me, flicking about my face as if looking for the same reaction I was. I should fix this, I should speak up, I should SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT. My mouth opens and closes like a moron, and for a moment I think I’m suffocating because now his eyes are flitting between mine and my lips and oh god get it together. “Do you?” I'm an idiot.

“Always.” He sounded so breathless, as if he could not risk his words to disturb the space settled between us. Chills set upon my arms and not for the first time I was eternally grateful for his closeness. There was barely a few inches between us now, and I could practically feel the human radiator in front of me through my suit, but instead of overwhelming me with discomfort… I became desperate for his hands on me. An ache grew in my chest, a desperate need to be touched that damn near made me sick with nerves. Everything I ever wanted, and it’s right here waiting to make a move. My eyes moved from his to his lips and back again, only to find him staring back with a deep intensity that made my head dizzy. This silence was agonizing, and my hands shook from nerves. I got so focused on the fact that I was beginning to panic that I hadn’t even notice the few inches between us had become less than a few centimeters now, less and less by the second. When I felt his lips barely pass mine, the shaking inside me stopped, and the anxiety in my chest lodged in my throat as I pressed forward.

I have kissed many people in my time, each slightly different with the same overarching form of conduct. Every kiss before this one meant nothing when B kissed me for the first time. It was sloppy, I’ll admit, and it was clear he hadn’t really done it before, at least not in a long time, but he was a fast learner, and as his hands grabbed my waist to pull me into his chest, the force sent me reeling. I would like to say I was more elegant, less messy, but that wouldn’t be true. Because the moment I felt his hands and his lips and the way both made my head swim, I became so incredibly desperate for more that I could hardly be blamed for dropping all sense of decorum. When he broke away from me, I remembered that breathing was important and tried to regain myself as he leaned his forehead against mine. His hands tightened around my waist, and I felt the force with which he lifted me up and onto the table with ease. I barely sat on it, and a good portion of my thighs hung off the edge, but whatever care for stability I may have once had was overpowered by the concept of his hips between my legs. He looked down at me once more, and I nodded with extreme enthusiasm. I heard him chuckle lowly before his hand wrapped around the base of my jaw and he kissed me again. Clumsily, I pulled at his belt and tried to undo the clasp at the front. Instead of actually succeeding like I hoped I would B grabbed my hands, gently tossed them aside and did it himself. When the belt hit the floor, he began kissing my neck, inching his way down slowly, as his hand gently pulled at the waistband of my pants.

“Please…” He slipped one hand into my hair at the base of my neck as his other undid my pants, slipping into my underwear where the pad of his forefinger gently pushed against my clit. Jolts of sharp pleasure ran up my hips and I had to actively refrain from bucking my hips up against his hand. The rough fabric of his suit rubbed against my thighs as he shifted his stance, pushing my legs apart. He pulled my hair gently so that I leaned back only slightly, enough for him to place his lips against mine. My hands shook as I wrapped them around his shoulders, the wonderful sensation giving me jitters.

“Hey, hey look at me, is this ok?” He nudged my nose with his and I looked up into his eyes. Those ice blue eyes. I nodded very enthusiastically. “Is this?” His hand slipped further and brushed his fingertips against my entrance.

“Yes.” Slowly dipping his fingers inside me, I sighed at the stretch. I was by no means a virgin, I’ve had plenty of partners of varying origins, so sex was no major endeavor for me. Usually. B’s fingers were huge, and callused and two alone made me lose my breath. This nauseating weight started in my chest, and I felt myself tightening around his fingers and his other hand pulled away from my hair and grabbed my hips to pull them farther off the table. I was barely sitting on it now and I was beginning to feel pressure in my lower abdomen. Little moans and breathy pleas were all I could manage, it just felt so good. He slowly moved his hand, pulling his fingers out before slowly pushing back in, pushing the pads of his fingers against the inside. The pressure began to get intense and my hands on his shoulders clawed into the armor of the suit. He continued to move slowly, only removing his had from my hips to place his other thumb against my clit. With both his hands occupied I lost my ability to speak as my walls sporadically tightened and released with his fingers still inside me. I was breathless, gasping and rocking against his hand ever so slightly. After a few seconds he removed his thumb from my clit, then slowly pulled his hand away.

“What do you want? I need for you to tell me.” Fuck, words are the last thing I wanted to think about. Resting my head against his shoulder, I tried to regain my breath.

“For the love of all things holy, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m-” My back hit the table with a soft thud as he pushed me down. My pants, albeit having fallen low on my thighs, were tugged off all together. His hand on my chest stayed there as his other hand lifted my knees to rest on his shoulders. My breathing regulated easier while laying down but that didn’t stop my breath from catching when I heard this belt come undone with a click. His left hand left the loose belt, pushing between my legs again to rub my clit slowly. My eyes roll back, and I hear him take a harsh breath before letting slip a low groan. It took effort, but I leaned my head forward just enough to look between my thighs where I got a perfect picture. With one hand rubbing my clit with his thumb, the other was wrapped around his cock, moving up and down at the same pace as his thumb. His head was thrown back, eyes closed with his mouth open. He was big, bigger than I expected. I threw my head back gently, whining little obscenities as I tightened around nothing. “Mm!” I whined when his hand pulled away but sighed as I felt the light pressure of him lining up with my entrance.

“Shhhh relax, I got you.” His hand that wasn’t guiding his dick inside me came to rest on my hip, rubbing little circles with his thumb. He was slow to push in, taking his time to allow me to acclimate to the stretch. Again, 100% not a virgin, but holy shit. There was a slight sting, then immense pressure as he filled me to the limit and then some. The push was so satisfying and filling that it forced me to sigh out all the air in my lungs. He was easily 8 inches and him taking his time gave me the wonderful opportunity to feel every bit of him.

“Fuck…” I was gasping quietly as he slowed to a stop, I couldn’t feel his thighs against my ass which meant he wasn’t even fully in. I hadn’t even realized my eyes were closed, but when I opened them, I looked up to see his eyes closed, brows drawn in concentration, with his mouth slightly open to let out ragged breaths. To say that it was hot would be an understatement. My eyes were focusing and unfocusing as I watched his eyes open. His once ice blue eyes were darker somehow, and his pupils were blown wide. He looked predatory. Suddenly I felt the drag of him pulling out and then the heavy push back in. There was heavy friction that sent sparks of pleasure up my abdomen. It was absolutely amazing. He began moving, pulling out slowly only to push back in with force. It wasn’t anything erratic or rough, but it was firm and precise, like he was doing it on purpose. As much as I loved the slower pace, I was more needy than I realized, so I moved my hips with his. Slowly lifting to match his, he seemed to get the idea, grabbing my hips harshly. His fingers were bound to leave bruises, but I wasn’t opposed to that at all. I wasn’t opposed to any of this, finally having B to myself like this and knowing that I wasn’t totally crazy thinking he would want me like this as well. His movements were harsher, hitting deep and I slowly adjusted to fit him entirely so his thighs brushed against my ass as he moved. It felt absolutely amazing, the slow build of pressure below my abdomen creating a slightly nauseous feeling in my stomach. But that needed fast when he pulled out.

“B? No no please don’t sto-” I was pleading with him, there is no way he could be stopping now, I think I might kill him holy shit.

“Shhh, come’ ere.” He slowly pulled me to my feet and turned me before I could fall, “Is this ok?” I nodded, not entirely sure what he meant but I’d probably agree to anything if it meant he’d continue fucking me. He pressed me forwards till my hips were against the table and on instinct I laid down on top of it, my ass high behind me. His hands immediately grabbed my hips, lifting them off the table and realigning himself with my entrance. My toes barely grazed the ground beneath me and something about not touching the floor while he slowly pushed back into me was intoxicating. It was different, the drag of his cock in me was pressing against the pressure in my abdomen, increasing it greatly. His rhythm became so much harsher, snapping into me with a force that shook the table. I couldn’t do much but whine and try to breathe but every time he push back into me so hard, I heard his thighs hit my ass and felt the table shift, the air was forced from my lungs. Through my own sounds and the sounds of us together, I heard him from behind me, muttering explicatives through gritted teeth and groaning lowly. One of his hands tore away from my hip and I heard fabric moving before his hand hit the table above my head, holding his mask in his fist. His mask…. Oh fuck. He’d taken his mask off. I suddenly felt his forehead against my shoulder, his hair falling and brushing the side of my face. His lips pressed against my shoulder, then moved up my neck as he continued to move inside me. I was stunned. Not only was I beyond thinking with the overwhelming amount of pleasure running through my system, but I couldn’t move past the idea of him removing his mask. But his other hand pulling away from my hips, letting me softly settle on the table again before wrapping around to press his fingers to my clit distracts me, and I’m lost in the feeling again. I let out little moans with every thrust, barely able to keep my breath as the hot tightness between my legs grew worse and worse. His hips move faster, and the pressure is becoming more tangible as I feel a sharp tightening in my hips before an overwhelming release. It’s a confusing mix of tightening and relaxing as my walls contract around him. I try desperately to breathe through it, but my mind falls blank, and I can’t think of anything but the pleasure rocking through my body. B continues to move, slowing his finger on my clit to gently coax me through my high, his thrusts losing rhythm but not force. He kept moving in and out of me, breathing heavily, until he pushed all the way in and stilled. He buried his head in my shoulder, moaning loudly now as my body brought him over the edge, barely moving now. His hips jolted every now and then as he slowly came down from his high, heat flooding my lower body as we both slowly relaxed into each other.

“Mm,” he rubbed his face into my shoulder, “Are you ok?” I nodded slowly, still fuzzy in the head. He chuckled quietly, shifting to kiss my shoulder again. We stayed like that for several minutes, still pressed together, cum dripping between the two of us. Suddenly, with a sharp kiss to my cheek, he pulled out of me. I whined, the rush leaving me with nothing, no energy to move or string a sentence together. I stayed still, acutely aware that he still had his mask off. I may be… very dazed, but I had enough sense to know that if he wasn’t ready for me to see his face then I wouldn’t move until he wanted me to.

“B?” He hummed in response, “your mask?” He was somewhere behind me, and I didn’t have the energy to push myself off the table.

“Do you want me to wear it?” What a loaded question. I respected his privacy, his identity, and the deep-seated secrecy that comes with the job. But I also don’t think I could live without seeing him after this.

“No.” I heard him walking around behind me before a wet washcloth was placed beside me. His hands wrapped around my waist to lift me up. Once again, standing was not an option, but he held me up and turned me to sit back against the table. Looking up, I met his eyes, but now I saw the angular nose that accompanied them, and then his cheekbones, then his lips, and his jawline, and his eyebrows, and- “You…”

“Yeah…” Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, recluse, and... Batman. Of course, he was Batman, of course my Batman was Bruce Wayne, it made so much sense. The same night that had haunted me for weeks suddenly hit me like a truck. ‘He would love you’.

“You said… but if you’re…” He looked so worried, but it was his own fault for ruining any chance I had of a coherent thought.

“Is this ok?”

“Yes! But… that night, at the tower, you said-” He smiled, something he used to do only rarely.

“I know what I said.” But then… that meant…

“Do you?” With a low chuckle he shook his head, bright blue eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Yes. Now lay back.” My eyebrows shot up in excitement.

“Again?” This time he laughed, an actual laugh that was full and deep.

“Later, let me help you first.” I sighed in disappointment but groaned the moment his large hands grabbed my legs. I was still incredibly sensitive and the washcloth, no matter how warm and comforting, still rubbed my sore clit gently causing my body to jolt and shake a little. “I know, I’m sorry.” Once he was done, he gently helped me put my underwear and pants back on. I stood, leaning against him, and he helped me into the tower elevator. “Hey...”

“Hm.” I couldn’t really respond because I was trying to focus on standing rather than falling.

“I love you.”

@wolfie1494 @tumb3ld0wn @projectcampbell @niviiera @dur55 @spidercat

#batman #Battison #batman x y/n #batman x reader #battinson #batman2022 #smut #batmansmut #batman smut

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vibingandsimping · 6 months

Note

first and foremost thank you for taking this up ❤️ im demi straight 😚

i am 5'3 and a kiwi 🇳🇿 i have a slim build, bleached blonde hair down near my collarbone, blue eyes and dress super light academia!! i am an intp too!

i am a super big fan of ancient greece and the roman empire, and i am a very studious girl!! i am learning ancient greek actually, and i read a lot of books on homer sophocles socrates etc . i LOVE all things ancient. i am actually pretty dorky haha, and i tend to ramble about silly things im interested in and id def win a general knowlesge game show. 🥸 but initially upon meeting me there is a wall where i sort of have to mask a lot of my eccentric behaviour . i am also suppperr fidgety and love to bite & chew on things. around my neck is my car keys and my gym membership key card, and there is.... 2 many bite marks on that mf card. 💀 anywho i am often dazing off and stuck in my own head!

i guess finally i am super used to helping people without reciprocation, and feeling useful is super important for me !! and i hate asking people for things. it is very unusual feeling when people compliment/appreciate/help me and it comes with guilt(??) i am pretty oblivious so thats cool (flaws amiright). i am super dedicated and loyal for people i love and love having sole attention and praise 🤲 i can get skeptical of ppl easily though and i overthink!

THANK YOUUUU hopefully not too long i woke up to my air conditioning dripping on me .... it's 3am

(Commissions aren’t officially open yet but this was commissioned! Matchups are closed and I am answering those already in my inbox!)

This one feels obvious but you and Gale would get along!

You both share the qualities of being studious, bit of nerds/dorks and generally seem quite alike to me. Obviously not the exact same but my initial thought was Gale. He’d fall in love with listening to you talk about your interests (and hopefully you’d reciprocate the same for him.) To have someone as interested in the finer arts and general knowledge as him is such a thrill. Not everyone has such intellectual curiosity! He personally hasn’t much need for favors, besides early on when he needs assistance with the weave, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He’d prefer quality time and words of affirmation than anything. He has the patience to sit and get to know you beyond what you mask as. Gale would definitely find you interesting no matter the type of person you were. He just wants to get to know the real you.

The dust clouded your lungs as you wiped at a bookshelf in the dungeon. This place was long abandoned and was made clear from Shadowheart’s unease. Her complaining about being uncomfortable staying in this place for too long ringing in your ears nearly the entire time. Luckily, you found some time for yourself when this expansive library was uncovered. You were always seeking neat books and tomes to read, curse your curious nature, so the dust was a fair price to pay. Your finger scanned the wall before landing on one that caught your eye. Pulling it out carefully in fear of a trap. Once in your hands you scanned it over- audibly gasping in excitement. You felt as if you hit the jackpot. You tapped your feet a couple times and gnawed your lip as you opened the pages. You always had a fixation on ancient history of Faerûn. This, in particular, was about the Great Sphinx’s and their riddles. Telling the stories of ancient philosophers and the adventures they experienced. You read with rapt attention as your party conversed. The absence of yourself must’ve been noticed when Gale approached. A smile playing on his lips at how pleased you appeared. “I do hate interrupting the enjoyment of a well written book but everyone else seems to be getting antsy. I don’t think they can appreciate the finer details of historic libraries like we do.” The last sentence was spoken with a sarcastic humor that admittedly made you smile. Instead of responding to his comment, you closed the book and held it out to him. Gale leaning back a bit as you smiled sheepishly; realizing your enthusiasm got the better of you. “You must know this book, yes?” Gale clears his throat before nodding. You continue without skipping a beat. “This is a relic! My favorite riddle from the Sphinx’s comes straight from this! A first-hand copy.” Gale laughs and gently takes the book into his hands. Flipping through the pages with utmost care. Meanwhile, you watch and gnaw your lip once more. “What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two in the evening and three at night?” You recite in expertise. The wizard perks back up and joins you in unison for the answer. “A humanoid crawls on four legs as an infant, walks on two legs as an adult and walks with a cane in elder age!” You could very well see some side-eyes from the other party members. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. It wasn’t often since the tapdole you got to ever geek out on your interests. Nonetheless someone who shared them to some extent! Gale breaks the bated silence. “I do believe we should get going. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a glass of wine and discussing the rest of this literature?” You only smile, nod, and follow as he leads the way back towards the entrance. Your poor lip was about chewed to bits, though.

As for an NSFW pairing… Halsin might be your pair!

He does believe you to be the most beautiful woman around. Even if you won’t share him in your heart explicitly- he will in your sheets (or wherever you’d like do to the do). Halsin can do just about anything you’d wish for. Beyond all that he is a very sweet, attentive and caring elf. He’ll make sure that every night you spend with him is just as satisfying as the last if not better. He has admired you for some time now.

Your lips clash in a shared desperation. The adventure long and the tension between you two palpable. As soon as you two settled into camp and night fell- he was on you like a beast. Hoisting you around his hips as his hands clasped your rear. Your arms slinked around his neck, the kiss feverish, as he guided you into your tent. Occasionally he’d growl into the kiss as he reeled himself inside. You both knew his nature of excitement. He carefully laid you out on the bedroll and broke the kiss to instead favor your neck. Your hair fell around you like a mock halo, golden and bright. Sucking and peppering the skin with his love. Blunt teeth grazing you each time he parted to move further down. All you could do is sit and whine pathetically as the sensations washed over. His fingers working quickly at your shirt and pants so he could admire you in your glory. You shimmied your hips to help assist him in ridding the clothing faster. Halsin straddled you a moment and watched you carefully. Pupils blown wide as his chest raised with each breath. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. You stun me every time I see your beauty.” He makes quick work of his own restrictions. As soon as he was fully nude you could clearly see his excitement. Cock standing at full attention at his stomach as he grabs your hips. There’s a fleeting moment of fear- thinking he’s going to enter you with little foreplay. Yet, that’s cut off when he only brings your core closer to his face. Inhaling deeply between your thighs before dipping into your sex. Tongue running over the folds to capture your essence and then lavishing your clit. Your shoulder-blade’s are pressed against the bedroll but it’s barely noticeable. Most of your weight was supported by the huge elf so all your attention could instead focus on the way he ate you like a man starved. The suckling and lapping was almost audible if not for the cries that escaped your chest. He relished in them and continued his efforts twofold to hear your beautiful sounds. Heels digging into his back as he edged you closer to the brink of ecstasy. Then, when you felt an orgasm creeping up on you, he slipped two fingers in. Lifting his head from your sex momentarily to speak with such a gruff you shuddered. “I intend on making you fall apart several times tonight. Once I am satisfied I will fuck you full. Breed you so prettily so that everyone will know. As if they can’t hear your delicious voice already.”

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 2 years

Text

Title: Glass Shell

Verse: ROTTMNT

Summary: Afterall, aren’t we all in various stages of falling apart?

Characters: Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael

Pairings:

Warnings: PTSD, meltdown, nightmares, past trauma

@hoshisoul and @soldierofsirens thank you both :)

Being a record-breaking insomniac, Leo is always finicky if he wakes up before he’s ready. Normally the process includes twelve alarms, turning off the heated blanket he had started using for the top half of his body and the slightly warmer second heated blanket he used for the bottom half and letting nature do its work (if he’s lucky, he’d be up by noon). What he doesn’t like is having an empty bag dropped entirely on his face. For a moment all he can do was shoot up in a sitting position and swipe at his face furiously till he’s able to catch it and pull it off. He pushes up his eye mask and rubs at his face as he reads the bag.

“Naturally sourced fair trade premium coffee beans?” He looks up to his assailant. “Raph, I keep telling you coffee is a gateway drug and our grocery bills can’t afford another caffeine addict—”

“That's not—no, I don’t have the physical strength to fight Donnie for coffee every morning,” Raph says with a shake of his head, as though the very thought of it was enough to give him nightmares. “No, I wanted to talk to you, ’cause I think something might be happening and I’m not sure. I’ve been wrong in the past; I’ve made things worse in the past—” Raph starts tapping his forefingers as his talking speeds up. “And—and I don't want to overstep, but I can't stop thinking about it and—and I thought I’d come to you since you’re better about this—”

“Buddy, buddy, you’re at a 10 right now, I need you to be at a 3,” Leo pulls his water jug off his bedside and takes a sip. “Maybe a 2. “

Raph's face twists up in frustration, but he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths and opens his eyes again. He starts pacing across the small space between Leo’s bed and the door, gesturing with his hands.

“OK, so we got groceries two days ago. I remember because you always buy an extra three boxes of cookies. One for dipping into sour cream while you shop, one for Pops so he doesn’t eat your cookies, and one for the drive home, ’cause, and I quote: ‘I just did my chore for the week and I deserve this.’” Raph pauses and looks at him. “You know, how you’re still alive is beyond me.”

“Pizza Supreme in the Sky wouldn’t gift me to the world and take me away so easy.'' Leo grins. Now that he’s waking up more, he stretches out his arms and legs in almost a catlike manner and yawns. “OK, OK, so we went grocery shopping. So what?”

“So, every week Donnie gets four large bags of overpriced coffee from that vegan store on the other side of town because the one we used to go to banned you both.”

“We’ve been over this. If they didn’t want us to ride a robot bear through their vegan honey aisle they should have put up a sign—”

“—SO I went to throw it in the recycling bin. And I saw there were already, like, four bags in there. That doesn’t seem healthy.”

Ah, worried big brother Raph is a classic. Leo can’t help but smile and reach out, wrapping his smaller hand around Raphs larger finger, which instinctively wraps around his.

“OK, OK, big guy, come here. Come listen to Wisonardo.” He manages to scoot over to let Raph sit down next to him before he gets up on his knees and starts kneading his shoulder. But upon realizing his fingers didn’t have the strength to make a difference, he switches to his elbows. “I know you love to worry. It’s your favorite thing to do other than collecting Teddy Bear Town coupons and anxiety. And the fact you haven't been hovering over him is great and I’m proud of you… I mean yeah, that much coffee would kill a T-Rex. But Donnie—'' Four bags was a lot of coffee, was he not sleeping at all? “That is a lot for him, but we’ve all been going through a lot with the Invasion, and I think this is just how he’s coping. I think.”

He was trying not to think about how he noticed the coffee pot had gone missing from the kitchen. Which meant either Donnie had broken the three he kept in his lab, or he had all four going off at once to ensure he didn't go a second without coffee. Out of the two options he wasn’t sure what was worse.

“So right now, we just need to give him his space. If something was really wrong my twin senses would have gone off—”

The sound of shattering glass fills the lair, and in a fit of panic, he vaults over Raph’s head. ”Nope, never mind, bad things are happening!” he says as he bursts out of his room. Leo turns so fast his feet slip under him, but he manages to right himself and run towards Don's lab.

“Donnie?” he calls out. Please let it just be an accident. Donnie’s hands were probably just slippery or he saw a spider or Webster changed the spelling of “theater” again. But as he turns around the corner, he sees pieces of a broken beaker on the floor outside his room, and a moment later a large monitor joins it, shattering and scattering across the floor.

“Donnie?” he calls out again. He runs and throws the curtains back.

Oh no.

The first thing he sees is Donnie, his tech shell to him. Before he can feel relief that he’s not hurt, he sees Donnie’s room, which, ever since they moved in, contained carefully stacked boxes all around the room's edge with the only real furniture being a desk. Now the boxes have fallen around the room with electronics and harddrives spilling out over the floor. Donnie has already grabbed a computer tower and has started raising it up over his head.

Despite years of knowing better, Leo lunges forward and wraps his arms around Donnie’s torso, trapping his arms and yanking back hard. The sudden movement causes Donnie to lose his grip on the tower and drop it back to the ground.

”Donnie, stop! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Let me go!” Donnie shouts, thrashing around. Had it been any other turtle, Leo would have found it impossible to restrain him (Raph was Raph and Mikey was a hellion who once Kool Aid Man'd through a wall to avoid getting a tetanus shot), but he manages to lock Donnie in place by gripping his opposite wrist in a wrestling move Raph taught him.

Raph is by his side a moment later with wide, panicked eyes, looking from the ransacked lab to their brother.

“What happened! What's going on?!”

“I got him, I got him!” says Leo, even though it probably doesn’t look like that. Right now Leo’s highest priority is getting Donnie out of that room, but Raph is already hovering too close. “I said I got him. Make sure nothing is broken in here, OK? Please?” he begs.

Leo doesn’t bother to wait for an answer as he drags Donnie out of the room as best he can with Donnie’s thrashing. Before he can think of where to go, his foot catches a broken piece of monitor and the two hit the ground. Leo’s other arm instinctively covers Don’s head to keep it from hitting the concrete. Before Donnie can take advantage of his fall, he continues clinging to him as tight as he can, whispering through gritted teeth, “It’s OK, it’s OK,” as his eyes burn with tears. He presses his face into the back of Don’s neck. “It’s OK.”

After what feels like an eternity, but in reality is only a few moments, Donnie seems to understand Leo isn’t releasing him anytime soon. Slowly, his thrashing becomes weaker and the fist he had been using to pry Leo’s arm off him falls limp. There’s a small tremble that makes Leo think he’s mustering up strength to go another round before he begins to weep softly.

Leo lets out a sigh of relief. He loosens his grip for a moment to test if Donnie will take advantage and try to pull away. He lacks either the energy or the will to try anything. So Leo reaches up and grabs at the ground and heaves the two of them up into a sitting position, careful not to jostle him too much.

He checks to make sure they’re not caught on any of the wreckage before he reaffirms his other arm around him, holding him just as tight as before, but trying to comfort rather than restrain. He presses their temples together gently as he uses his thumb to stroke the back of his head.

“I gotcha buddy, just breathe,” he says softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Raph exit Don’s bedroom with a less-than-promising look on his face. Leo guides Don’s head so he can rest his chin on his scalp and looks at Raph. “How bad is it?”

“The surface was pretty badly cracked, but it might still work? I’m not exactly an expert,” he says, looking at Don.

Leo knows all he wants to do is check on him and find out what happened, but Leo shakes his head with a sympathetic expression on his face. Donnie doesn’t need to be bombarded with questions and he hopes that Raph will understand. Their older brother holds his gaze a moment later and, after a soft sigh, he nods.

“I’m….going to start cleaning up. Let me know if you need me…” he says, looking at them a moment longer and then walking away.

Leo is going to have to find some way to thank him later. He knows how hard it is for Raph to walk away, which is just another reason Leo knows Raph’s real strength has nothing to do with his physical form.

“I’m really proud of him,” he whispers to Donnie.

For the next several minutes, Leo simply holds his brother and rocks him. He does what he can to support him emotionally and physically as he weeps softly. But eventually, he feels Donatello stop trembling. Leo loosens his grip for a moment to test his reaction. But either Don has no reason to get free or he’s too exhausted to do so—he doesn’t know which, and isn’t sure if one would be worse than the other.

“Hey, Raph,” he calls softly. Raph ducks out of Don’s room a moment later. “Did you see if Donnie has his new bed set up yet?” When Raph shakes his head sadly, Leo lets out a small sigh.

“Oh, bud.” He holds Don a inch tighter to him. “I get it, I do,” he whispers, He looks back to Raph. “Can you help us real fast? Let's get him to my room so he can get some sleep.”

Raph’s eyes lit up, grateful to be of some help. He nods and kneels down. He holds his hand up, then hesitates. “It-It’s ok? I don’t want to mess up again—”

“Raph, it's OK. Please.” Leo gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, undermined by the fact that his lips can’t stop trembling.

But it has the intended effect. Raph nods. “Ok, let's go.”

Between the two of them they are able to lift Donnie to his feet. Raph has a careful grip on his shoulders that tells Leo he’s considering just picking him up, but Leo catches his eyes and shakes his head. Raph thankfully respects his wishes, but stays close as Leo pulls Don’s arm over his neck. Again, he tests to see if Donnie would rather walk on his own, but the softshell leans against him with his free hand wiping at his eyes. He’s grateful for Raph staying close as he helps Don to his bedroom, even more so when he pulls the covers back.

“Thanks, man,” he whispers over his shoulder as he guides Donnie closer. He’s unsure how to help him get into bed without manhandling him, but Donnie simply flops over on the bed and curls up in a little ball. Leo does a look-over for injury and spots a large bruise forming on his left bicep, but after a quick panic, reminds himself it would be impossible for Donnie to give himself that sort of bruise. But as Raph pulls the covers over him, he notices Don’s hands hanging over the side and that his fingers and gloves are covered in a brown liquid.

“I’m going to take these off for you, OK?” he says. He takes the gloves by the bottoms and peels them off as gently as he can, watching Don’s sleeping face in case he has any protest as Leo reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a container of unscented hand wipes. He looks over his shoulder to Raph as he bundles a bunch of wipes into his hands. “He can’t stand to have things sticking to his hands. It stresses him out,” he explains. Leo’s not sure he’s done a satisfactory job, so he sets the wipes by the bedside.

“In case you need them, bud.”

He considers going and getting one of the duffel bags Mikey has in his room, but decides against it, as Donnie is already asleep. The only consolation is that the tears streaming down his face have finally stopped, and Leo can only assume he’s sleeping well. He bunches his hoodie sleeve into his fist and carefully wipes off Don’s face and stands up hesitating a moment longer to turn the dial on Don’s headphones to noise canceling mode as gently as he can without waking him.

He turns to Raph and gestures nothing we can do now; let him rest.

“Y—yeah, OK.” Raph looks back at Donnie but Leo takes him by the arm and helps him out. Leo looks back to make sure Donnie is actually asleep before he squeezes his arm gently.

“Hey, you did so well, Big Guy. I’m proud of you.”

“Did I? He was so out of it and—and I didn’t do anything. You did more than I did—”

“You didn’t overcrowd him, you didn’t barrage him with a thousand questions. You listened, I—I—” Now that they’re out of his bedroom, he lets his voice crack as he drops Raphs arm. He presses the palms of his hands to his now-burning eyes. “I—I’ve never had to restrain him like that before. I was so scared he was going to hurt himself and I—I—” His voice cracks again and this time Leo feels Raph put a hand on his shell and guide him into a tight protective hug. Despite himself, he gratefully leans against his brother and hugs him back just as tightly. He allows himself a few moments of comfort before he pulls away and wipes at his eyes again.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, fluttering his hands, and he takes several deep breaths. He can feel Raph giving him the same look he had given Donnie.

“You look beat, man. Do you want to crash in my room for a bit?”

“No, not right now. Donnie’s stressed ’cause he has too much work to do. He’s had to rebuild our home three times now; the least we can do is pick up his bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a plan. Should we call Dad? He’d want to know.”

“He would, but he’s at Mikeys’ appointment and I don't want to worry him. We’ll let him know when they get back.” He looks at Raph. Even though the snapping turtle was no longer the leader, he still sought his opinion on certain situations. After a moment of eye contact, Raph nods.

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll grab another dustpan and then we’ll get to work.”

Leo takes a moment and looks back to the room where his brother is currently sleeping off the worst meltdown he has ever seen. The fluttering returns to his hands as he shakes out his hands and takes another deep breath before heading to Donnie’s wrecked room.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Cleaning had never been Leo’s strong suit; helping, even less so. But with Raph’s guidance, the two are able to clean up the disassembled room that had been assigned to Donnie. Now that things are being cleaned up, he can see the shattered remains of two coffee pots and a broken mug with dried coffee under one of the fallen stacks. Leo doesn’t point it out to Raph. He doesn’t want to brainstorm over what happened here; his anxiety would only think of the worst-case scenario and do no one any good. But he takes note of it as he cleans up. Even with the help, it takes a few hours to get anything back into respectable order. Nowhere near as organized as Donnie had been (there were no sub-subcategories or codes), but hopefully done well enough so that Donnie wouldn’t be stressed out.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Splinter expects us to do this more than once a year,” Leo grumbles as he stands up straight, shaking the dust from their labor off his hands.

Raph looks at him with a big smirk that Leo hadn’t realized he missed. “If you cleaned more than once a year it wouldn’t be hard to clean.”

“UGH. NO. I REFUSE! That’s for ugly people!” he says with an overly dramatic scoff that does the intended job of making Raph laugh. His older brother reaches over and takes his shoulders from behind, digging his thumbs into his shoulders.

“Alright, your highness, let's get out of here before you break into hives.”

“Ow, ow! Spiky fingers, spiky fingers!!!” He squirms to free himself, but Raph guides him out of the room. Leo twists free and sticks his tongue out at him at a safe distance, which does nothing other than make Raph laugh harder. “OK, you brute, for a job well done, I think we deserve ice cream,” he says. Without waiting, he skips back over to the kitchen. He’s already imagining what kind of cottage cheese he’s going to add to his ice cream as he pulls the freezer door open. The cold breeze barely reached his finger tips before he freezes up.

Endless darkness.

His body ached from hours and hours of battle and now rested against a large rock. It was the closest he had come to rest in close to twelve hours. Through bleary eyes, he saw a large form, forged from metal he couldn't even imagine. It caused the very ground beneath him to tremble with each step. Its laughs were as dark as the void around him.

“My wrath shall be reserved for you and you alone.”

Leo jumps back and slams the freezer door shut. He throws himself back as far back as he can until his shell hits the kitchen table, causing it to slide back several inches. He looks at the fridge as though he expected the cold to break free and drag him in with it.

The cold always made it worse.

The cold always consumed him.

The sound of Raph’s footsteps reaches him and he barely has time to stand back up and calm his exterior before he enters.

“What’s up? What kind of ice cream are we eating?”

“Um, ACTUALLY, how about we eat some real food? I forgot I have a cavity so I have to chillax on the ice cream,” he says, hoping Raph doesn’t remember he considers cavities to be achievements, but after giving him a quizzical expression, Raph looks back out into the Lair. Confused, Leo goes to join him, but realizes what, or who, Raph is looking for.

“Looks like Splinter and Mikey decided to go shopping after their appointment.” Leo leans in the doorway by him.

“If they went to Sparkling Sterling Sporks, then we might not see them again for a week,” Raph says with a smirk, but Leo watches Raph’s gaze go back to his subway car. For a moment he’s scared that Raph will just go over, but his older brother takes a deep breath. “OK, Lee, I’ll follow your lead on this. What should we do next?”

Leo isn’t sure how many more times he can tell Raph he’s proud of him before it loses meaning. Instead, he gives him a supportive squeeze on the arm.

“I’ll check on him if he’s still asleep. I don't want to wake him. Mikey made a giant pot of french onion soup; can you heat some up? It's one of Don's favorites and maybe it’ll help him feel better.”

“No coffee?”

“God no, but if you could rush order some coffee beans and a new coffee maker for tomorrow, that’d be great. If he finds out he’s all out he’s going to murder us all without mercy.”

Raph breaks out into another smile but it falls into a moment of Oh shit, he’s right as he turns and books it back to the kitchen with his phone up, typing furiously. Leo can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. Laughing again feels really good; it feels like he hasn't laughed since the Invasion, unless it was for show. He makes his way back towards the subway car. After a moment to steel himself, he presses his palm to his bedroom door. He had only intended to peek, but after a glimpse his eyes widen and he throws the door open.

The bed is empty.

“Donnie?!” he calls, looking around. There isn’t really a space to hide in his room but he has to make sure Donnie isn’t sitting in a corner out of sight. “Dee? Alone time is fine but knowing you’re OK is even cooler??” He hurries out into the main living space and does a quick 360 to make sure Donnie isn’t hanging out in the arcade or wandering around with a broken coffee pot for his first victim.

There is none.

There is nothing.

Leo turns to run to the kitchen before skidding to a stop and he flutters his hands angrily by his head. “Calm down, calm down, it’s OK, it’s OK. Panicking isn’t going to help anyone. Donnie is capable and fine,” he reminds himself. He blows out air between his lips and, with one final angry flap, stills his hands. He manages to calm his exterior and goes to the kitchen, hoping Donnie wandered in in the ten seconds he was gone. He feels his heart drop when he only sees Raph at the stove, who gives him a confused look.

“Leo? Donnie ok?”

“Um, yeah, yeah.” His hands tremble again as he does one more look around the room. “I mean, yeah, I think he is. He’s not here. And—and he’s not in the Lair.”

“Wh—what do you mean?” A surge of panic fills Raph's eyes that Leo has been expecting since they first heard the glass break. “He’s not here? Did he run away—”

“No, no, I don't think that.” Leo has to bring his hands up again and stims a little. He has to calm down, separate the panic from the truth. “No. Donnie doesn’t run away, he sulks and pouts. He only runs away dramatically after we’ve binge-watched the first twenty-three seasons of Lou Jitsu in Lou Jitsu and his Shakes-Pearean Wedding to MilkShakespeare.” Deep breath, deep breath. “We were cleaning for a while,”—he has to be logical—“He might have just needed some air and walked out without telling us.” Leo pulls out his phone and, not for the first time, he prays that Donnie secretly installed his turtle tracker on his phone. But as he struggles to pull up any apps through burning eyes, all he can see is Donnie's wrecked bedroom, one that was done after a terrible night at the Yokai Mart which felt like a lifetime ago and now, in a Lair that didn't feel like home, the feeling of Donnie thrashing against him before breaking down and weeping in his arms.

He pauses.

He realizes.

Leo takes a deep breath and puts his phone (one more wrong password from being locked out) back in his belt. He closes his eyes and makes eye contact with Raph, who's looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I think I know where he’s at,” he starts carefully, with less confidence than he’s trying to exude. “I—I’m going to go check real fast, but it might take me a bit to get there.”

“You—” Raph pauses, “You don't want me to come with you, do you?”

“No, bud—” it's hard for Leo to watch Raph’s eyes fall to the ground, filled with frustrated tears. “Hey, hey.” Leo steps forward and, in the same way he did with Donnie, puts a hand on the back of Raph’s head and puts their temples together. “You’re a turtle of action. You do an amazing job keeping us safe. And I know it doesn’t seem like it now. But this? This is helping a ton. I wouldn’t have been able to help Donnie like I did without you. But I need you to stay here in case Donnie comes back.”

After a breath, Raph looks at him again and, though a tear runs down his face. He gives a shaky smile and a nod that Leo makes sure to return.

“That’s my man. Keep the soup warm, and if Dad gets back before us, just tell him the truth, but don't say anything before they get back. He and Mikey are having fun and if anyone deserves that, it's them.” He releases Raph. He hurries to Mikey’s room long enough to grab a duffel bag with a piece of purple duct tape wrapped around the handle (alongside a few others with different color markings), returns to the kitchen, and stuffs a few more items from around the kitchen into his bag. Leo makes sure to give Raph one more encouraging smile. As he walks out of the lair, he looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s far enough away before he secures the duffel bag to his shell and breaks into a dead run.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

It's not until Leo’s almost to the lair that the terrain gets treacherous. Splinter and Draxum never talked about how the Battle with Shredder went down, but it wrecked everything underground for almost a two-mile radius. And in the times they returned to their former home to collect any resources that had survived, Mikey would always cling to someone's arm with a death grip until they left again. The youngest of them had been the only one brave enough to manifest how it had felt to come back to their ruined home.

Because of the momentum from running, Leo’s able to easily vault over several broken slabs of concrete, jump over wide gaps in the ground that revealed sewer tunnels underneath, and walk through the makeshift tunnel they had dug out to make treks to their old home easier. It takes him a minute to shimmy though until he finds himself doubling over, gasping for air in the wrecked remains of their childhood home.

Like every time he's visited, he freezes for a moment with his breath caught in his chest. He reaches a trembling hand up and feels his mask tails. He can still remember the jerk from when Shredder nearly cut his head off. The panic as he watched their home cave in around them, feeling powerless. Helpless.

He remembers how close they came to becoming memories.

He remembers how close they came to becoming memories since then.

He shakes out his trembling hands and moves through the lair. At this point in time, because of the open water pipes and gathering moisture, algae and grass have begun to replace their presence here (which, in a way, was a blessing if anyone ever came down to fix the pipes). But the only remaining color comes from the still hanging torn purple curtain that Donnie had refused to take with him. He hovers at the entrance for a moment; he knows better than anyone how overbearing he can be and he will never quite forgive himself for how he reacted during the Yokai Mart incident. But he knows better now, he hopes. He raises his hand and knocks gently on the frame of the opening.

“Dee? It's me. Is it OK if I come in and hang out for a bit?” he asks, fully knowing there’s a good chance Donnie isn’t there and, even if he is, he isn’t sure what to expect as a response. But Leo watches the curtain twitch for a moment, as though someone is trying to pull it open without having the energy to do so. Leo grips the straps of his duffel bag tighter before ducking in.

Most of Don’s room had caved in during the attack, leaving the only viable sitting spot directly by the entrance where Leo sees him, curled up with his face in his knees. If he hadn’t seen Donnie try to pull the curtain open he would’ve thought he had simply fallen asleep again. He does a quick look-over to check for injury, but other than the large bruise on his bicep that has now fully formed against his sea-green skin, he's grateful to find nothing new. He looks around for a place to sit before deciding to sit by his side, giving him enough space that he hopes will help him feel comfortable. Now that he knows where Donnie is, he could relax and let out a deep breath, sinking down to give his now aching body a break.

For a moment he's satisfied with just sitting there, catching his breath. But out of the corner of his eye he watches Donnie for any sudden movements or signs that he wants Leo to leave. But he waits a bit before he speaks, until he knows it won't be hindered by his gasping breath.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Donnie’s voice is so quiet, he isn’t sure he hears him at first.

“I could say I’m a great detective. But I know you’d want to be somewhere no one would look for you…” He looks around the room, catching sight of a pile of rubble that had been moved recently, as though someone had moved things around to lay down. “How often do you come here now?” He sees Donnie flinch out of the corner of his eye and he knows he’s hit on a truth.

“A little? At first, just after the Invasion ’cause I needed to be somewhere to breathe, then a few days a week, then every night when everyone went to bed. I needed to be somewhere I could scream and shout without anyone coming running. I just.” He blinks hard. “I just wanted to go home.”

Leo has to look away to keep his eyes from welling up again, trying not to think about how many nights Donnie spent in this wreckage, not just for his mental health. But looking around, he’s reminded how unstable the wreckage is. If Donnie had hit his head, or fallen, how long would it have been before anyone had noticed? Or would they have just woken up one day and thought Donnie had run away? A thousand new nightmares vie for his attention, but he manages to take a deep breath and blink back tears of panic by reaching for the duffel bag.

“I brought it along in case it might help.”

“Unless there's a new coffee maker and ten-gallon thermos, I doubt it.”

“No, but there is water.” Leo can't help but smirk. “Before you murder me and feed me to your robotic worms, I know you haven't had any liquid that hasn’t been boiled to death by a coffee maker in a few days. I’ll make you some coffee tomorrow, but for right now, if you could stomach a bottle of water, I'd really appreciate it.”

Tired bloodshot eyes peer at him from over Donnie’s arms and he flinches in a way that Leo can tell means he’s trying to glare but doesn’t have the energy for it. He starts to unfurl himself. Leo checks again for any bruising he might have missed and is grateful not to see anything new. Without saying anything else, Leo holds out the bottle of water to him. Donnie, while still failing to glare at him properly, breaks the seal and takes a small sip at first, but it must trigger something in him, since he downs it in a matter of seconds. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand,

“Thanks,” Donnie says weakly, handing the empty bottle back.

“No problem, bud. Do you need anything else? I have modified Tylenol, Germ-X, hand wipes—”

“I think I'm OK for now. Well, as OK as I can be.” Donnie turns to face forward again, this time resting his head on his arms instead of hiding his face, which Leo takes as a good sign. “How bad was it?” he asks.

“Um.” Leo pauses, unsure of how to answer in a way that wouldn't hurt him. “Made one hell of a mess, but we picked up the pieces. You scared the shell off Raph.”

“Crap, Raph was there.” Donnie presses his face into his hands. “I must have stressed him out so bad.”

“A little, but he stayed calm, gave you your space, and didn’t ask a lot of questions. You would have been really proud of him.”

“Really?” Donnie looks to him again and Leo can see the tension leave his shoulders. He almost smiles before it fades again. “Can, can you tell me what happened?”

Leo blinks, “You don't remember?”

“Not really. I remember being in my room, I had a huge headache trying to organize those stupid boxes, I had a cup of coffee in my hands. I tried to take down a box from one of the taller stacks but I lost my balance and—and it fell and knocked me over. Hit me in the head, covering me in coffee. I just, I guess I lost it.” Donnie presses his face back into his knees. “I’ve never had a meltdown so bad I couldn’t remember it afterwards. I—I think,”—his voice cracks—“I think I'm falling apart.”

Leo instinctively reaches his arm up to pull him into his side and has to stop himself, reminding himself that Donnie doesn't like physical contact, but Donnie tilts and curls up into his side with all his weight, almost sending Leo falling on his side. And, after just a moment of shock, he wraps his arms around him and holds him tightly. It's in these moments Leo knows his failings, lacking the right words to say to make the pain go away. But as he rests his chin on Don's scalp and looks around the room, a soft chuckle escapes him.

“Hey,” he says softly to catch Don’s attention. “R—remember when we were little? And this used to be the quiet room? I was so jealous ’cause even though Dad said it was for everyone, it was obviously made with you in mind and I didn’t understand why we needed it. And I haaaaated the idea of being quiet.”

“You also said you hated me.”

For a moment he’s not sure he heard him right and looks down to him. “I—are you sure? I said that?”

“Yeah, but you were just a kid. I think I had been going through your comics and it set you off. If it helps, if it had been the other way around and I caught you going through my stuff, I would have said worse. Or rather, written an extremely hurtful grammatically solid letter and had someone else read it to you. I wasn’t exactly communicating verbally at the time.”

“Right,” Leo says, not that it made him feel any better. But Donnie must have sensed that, since he shifts around without pulling free to dig around in his belt.

“You felt so bad afterwards you made me these.” In his hand rest two small faded green figurines with worn edges, one with torn purple fabric and the other with blue. Leo smiles softly.

“I remember that part.” With his free hand he nudges the purple one enough to make the arm swing, having lost the grip in its socket a long time ago. “Didn’t you make one for Mikey and Raph?”

“I did, but they were lost when...”—Donnie gestures to the lair—“I started carrying these with me when I felt anxious. It helped me calm down; at least, it used to. Then we lost our home again ’cause some chewed up gum looking aliens from a direct to video The Blob lookalike decided to invade our world.” Donnie jerks his hands in a moment of frustration, an angry tear peeking at the corner of his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this, Leo, I can't keep watching our homes, our lives, get upturned over and over again and be expected to go on with life. I’m not strong enough—”

“Hey.'' For the first time Leo leans away and takes Donnie by both of his shoulders. He doesn’t force eye contact, but this is as close as he gets to trying to get Donnie's full attention. “Struggling doesn’t make you or anyone weak. You think there’s medals out there for who can suffer the most, outside of reality TV? No! Dad always says that strength comes from helping and supporting each other. Are there people out there who see us cracking and think they see—see gold?! Maybe, but they don’t know us. They don’t see our family or the people who help hold us together.” Leo stops talking for a moment, and he takes a deep breath, far braver than he was before.

“I—I haven’t.” The trembling now has taken his voice, and it's noticeable enough for Donnie to look up at him. “I—I’m scared to sleep at night. I’m scared to the point where I’d rather stay up on nothing but pure spite and funny videos, because whenever I close my eyes, I see him. I see him, I feel his fists cracking.” Leo releases Don’s shoulders and holds his chest. He can still feel the outline of healing cracks that had once been barely held together with whatever yokai medicine Draxum made. “I feel the cold, Donnie. It was so cold there. And now, and now whenever I get caught in a cold breeze or open the freezer I just… choke,” he says, his voice breaking with a small sob.

Without hesitation, the arms of his most touch averse brother wrap around him. All the strength he had been trying to hold up for Donnie fails as he presses his face into Don’s shoulders. No tears but the trembling of terror as he clings to his brother.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Donnie asks. “We’re your family. We would have supported you—”

“Because I saw Mikey and Raph going to therapy, I saw Casey adjusting to being a normal kid, and I saw you working hard. I thought, I hoped, I was the only one struggling, and if I ignored it, it would go away. It did when Mikey couldn’t sleep alone in his room and slept in mine for a few weeks. But it came back, and I know now that it's not going away on its own.” Another pause.

“We talked about this a while back; we made a deal that if one of us considered going to therapy, so would the other. I want to change that.”

Donnie shakes his head tiredly. “Leo—”

“I know you don’t want to go, and I’m not going to force you. But if you start going, so will I. And I’ll go with you to every one of your appointments, and you can go to all of mine if you want. Just so you know there’s someone waiting outside that room ready to support you. It doesn’t even have to be me! It can be Raph, or Dad or anyone you want. I’ll hire Jupiter Jim to go with you if that helps! And—and if you still feel like you need to come here to scream and vent, please tell me. I won't stop you. I'll come and we can scream together,” he says, hugging Donnie an inch tighter to him.

He’s not sure what to expect for a response. Then, Donnie lets out a weak, tearful “What if they tell me I was born wrong? What if they tell me I’m so damaged that they can’t do anything about it?”

“Well, first of all you have three—” Leo pauses. “Four brothers, three sisters and a former action star dad who will wipe the floor with any ableist piece of trash who says that. And if it's not the perfect fit, we’ll find someone who is. It doesn't even have to be forever; we can just go until we eat all the free candy they keep in the lobby.”

“There’s free candy?” Donnie says with a weak laugh.

“There’s always free candy. I actually got banned from going with Mikey to his appointments because of that. Then Splinter started going and he almost got banned ’cause he started fighting some eighty-year-old lady for the last red jolly rancher, and they had to call animal control an—” He stops when he hears a weak chuckle come from Donnie. And for the first time, Leo’s face lights up. “Hey, don't laugh! It was a fiasco! They had to call the fire department! Draxum had to come bail him out of jail. Jail, Donald!” he says with loud emphasis, gesturing dramatically with his free hand while the other’s still holding Donnie around the shoulders. “And worse! WORSE THAN THAT!!” he says even louder, to be heard over Donnie’s laughter he can’t smother with his hands. “He had the audacity, the AUDACITY, to wait till it was midnight to come to bail Splinter in his bathrobe, slippers and Starbucks. STARBUCKS, DONNIE!!! Like is there a bigger slap to the face than arriving late with Starbucks, Donatello!? I think not—”

“Stop stop—” Donnie wipes his streaming eyes with his hands. “Stop, I hate it when you make me laugh—”

“Only because it's one of the few times you admit I’m hilarious.” Leo grins before he finally lets himself laugh. He laughs harder than he has in a long time, leaving tears of laughter streaming down his face. And, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s nice to laugh in a place that had once held all their best memories.

Finally, what feels like too soon, their laughter fades into chuckles then ends altogether. And for a moment the pain and trauma feels far away.

“I’ll go,” Don finally says. “If you go.”

Leo smiles and reaches out, taking his brother’s hand into his. “Thank you for being the brave twin,” he says.

“Please,'' Donnie says with an eye roll, but he can’t stop smiling. He looks around Leo to the duffel bag. “So why do you have a duffel bag full of things I like?”

“It was something Mikey’s therapist thought of. It's called a Mental Health First Aid Kit. In case of, well.” He gestures. “Things like this. I helped him put one together for all of us. There’s even one for Splinter, April, Draxum, Casey and… Casey.” Leo blinks. “Yeah, that's going to be confusing. I even brought your weighted blanket if you needed it.”

“No, I don't want to fall asleep out here. I’ve done that too many times.” Donnie sighs as he closes his eyes, leaning again on his brother. As Leo resumes putting his arm around him, his phone lets out a chirp and he pulls it out. He lets out a sigh as he turns the screen so Donnie can see it.

“Dad’s home and wanted to check in with us. He says there’s no pressure but Raph can come pick us up with the Turtle Tank. He also said April can pick us up but giving, um, Future Casey’s driving and…” he let it drift off with an almost nauseous look on his face

“Yeah no, I’m not getting in the same car as him again. Never before had I been so grateful for a cop to try and pull us over.” Donnie lets out a shiver and Leo has to remember to ask for that story later (the only thing he knew was that Donnie and Future Casey had to push the car home in twelve different pieces that had somehow become infused in jello).

“Cool, and if you're ready, I can help you set up your new bed and you can sleep in your room tonight.”

“I,” Don pauses. “I’m not ready for that yet, but you can if you want. Maybe I can crash in your room for a bit till I am ready. And maybe it'll help you get a good night’s sleep as well.”

Leo’s mouth trembles for a moment as he smiles softly. “My hero.” he says.

It would be great to get rid of those heated blankets. Don scoots back and leans again into Leo’s side, pausing for a moment before digging into the duffel bag on Leo’s other side and fishing out the weighted blanket (he must have changed his mind). He gives Leo’s shoulder a small tug, an indication for him to lean forward to wrap one corner around his shoulders before wrapping himself in the other and sinking into his side again. Within moments, Donnie is back asleep and Leo leaves, enjoying the soothing weight of the blanket on his shoulders and his brother by his side. For the last time that day, he blinks back the fear that has been threatening to consume and breathes out with the realization that everything will be OK before drifting off as well.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

It's not till he hears the sound of footsteps that Leo realizes he’s fallen asleep. Jerking into a more upright position, he instinctively tightens his grip on Don, who is still waking up, and reaches for one of his katanas. But after a moment he recognizes the footsteps.

“Leo? Donnie?” calls out Raph,

“Over here!” he calls. Leo starts rubbing Don's arm with his opposite hand. “Wake up, bud, our ride’s here.”

“So that's why I smell Raph’s ‘driving after five PM’ stink?” Donnie asks groggily, wiping at his eyes and making Leo chuckle softly. The curtain flaps a moment later as Raph steps through. Leo has a split second to notice the anxiety in Raph's eyes fade as they fell on the two and he moved over, crouching down in front of them. He brings his hands up for a moment as though ready to pull them both into a hug right then and there but he takes a deep breath.

“Are you two alright?” Raph asks, eyes once again looking over them for signs of injury or distress.

“We’re as good as it gets. Near perfection but a different shade of green,” Donnie says with a half tired shrug.

“Th—that's great! That's good. Great—” with each positive affirmation Leo can see Raph mentally willing back the energy till it’s barely contained with his relieved eyes. But before Leo can say anything, Donnie reaches up and takes Raph’s bicep. Though he’s not nearly strong enough to move Raph, he gives a slight tug which gives Raph the direction, albeit confused look on his face, to scoot closer. Close enough to lean forward and give him a small one armed hug around the neck as he rests his forehead on Raph’s shoulder.

“I know Leo already told you, and you know I hate saying he was right, but you did a really good job today. I know it's hard for you to let someone else take charge when it comes to us. You’re an amazing older brother, and I’m just as lucky to have you in my life as I am to have Dad, Mikey and Leo. Never forget that.”

Raph looks over to Leo for a moment as though for verification. Leo gives him a small nod, which is all that is needed for Raph’s eyes to swell up with big Raph tears as he trembles. His arms go up to hug Donnie, trembling in a way that told Leo he was hugging with only a fraction of the strength he wanted to.

“I’m always here for you, Don.” Leo lets out a soft smile as he reaches forward and gives Raph a gentle rub on the shoulder as the two hold each other for a few moments. But as Donnie goes to pull away, Raph respects his wishes and does so as well, using his wrist to wipe at his eyes. But Donnie keeps a grip on his wrist for a moment, drawing Raph’s attention back to him.

“I—It won't be tonight, but I think there’s a lot we have to talk about, with Dad.” Donnie looks over to Leo. After a moment of hesitation, the red slider nods as well, giving him permission. “Leo does too.”

Leo gives a weak smirk. “Yeah, turns out memes aren’t a great coping mechanism.”

“No.” Raph wipes the last of his tears on his arm. “No, but we are good at being there for eachother as a family. And if you’re up for it, I can get you two home.”

“Sounds like a plan. Meet you at the tank,” Leo says. Raph gives them both one last look-over before ducking out of the room. Leo starts to pack up the duffel bag as Don rubs at his eyes. But as he goes to stand, his leg trembles before he falls back down. Donnie reaches over and catches him by the shell, but not fast enough to spare his elbow from the hard pavement.

“Ow jeez—”

“Are you alright?” Donnie asks, giving him the same overprotective look-over that Raph had given them.

“Um, yeah, I think so. I sorta ran all the way here and I think my perfect body is punishing me for it,” he says with a nervous laugh. Donnie’s eyes widen for a moment and Leo regrets saying anything till Donnie closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and smiles.

“I’ll help you, dum dum,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out.

Leo smiles and takes it. The two of them are able to pull each other eac hother up to their feet, but as Leo’s legs tremble again, Donnie ducks underneath his arm.

“It’s OK, I got you,'' Donnie says. Leo wants to protest, but he can already feel his sore leg’s relief. So instead of pulling free, he puts Donnie’s arm over his neck as well and the two make their way out of the ruined remains of their former home.

They were not made of gold.

They were made of love.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie #leo #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #raph #tmnt #trauma #dont even think about it shippers #Raph is in this?! how can it be!#shut up dennis!

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