#you gotta. you gotta have wide turtles

[yorshie]

If I don’t show this I’m gonna frickin explode. Just. Just.

I found box turtle markings. This is obvi Leo (shhhh no he’s not my favorite shhhhh) but I have to scream about this because I Found M Markings On A Real Box Turtle!!!!!!

I’m gnawing on my fricking stylus over here. I’m Gonna Cover Them In Markings No You Can’t Stop Me I Can’t Just Do Tattoos I Have To Make It Complicated!

#my TMNT art #I’m ranting #just ignore me #I’m gonna—— #there’s so many different little variations I can just #go crazy ahahahah #go stupid ahahahaha #also. yes. Leo is about as wide as a truck #raph is still wider #you gotta. you gotta have wide turtles #WIDE TURBLES #gnawing at the side of a trash can #oh. oh I’ve completely lost my shit. #I PUT A HEART ON LEOS BACK #do you know. how loud I gasped when I saw this shell with the heart scute shape? #art level up-> draw turbles #it just works

[yabakuboi]

merman steve pt 2

a continuation of this for @spectrum-spectre, now with some pre-steddie~!

Henderson is skulking around in the cereal aisle when Eddie spots him.

The kid has been a bit of enigma to Eddie since he met him at the beginning of last fall semester. Dustin had a tight group of friends, but often times, he caught the gang of them sans Henderson and the fact seemed to annoy the hell out of them.

"He just goes off on on his own sometimes," Baby Beyers would say.

"He won't tell anyone where or why or with who," Mini Wheeler would snarl.

"And it's definitely not to talk to his girlfriend, because we hear ALL about that," Big Sinclair would sigh, rolling his eyes.

So catching kid creeping around the grocery store minus the rest of his party, after hearing many complains of his mysterious disappearances? Color Eddie intrigued.

"Hendersooon," Eddie sang, wrapping an arm around Dustin's neck to keep him from escaping. "Whatcha doing?"

"Eddie!" he said brightly, grinning at him. "Just buying some snacks. Hey, which cereal do you think a fish can eat?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment, blinking. "Uh..."

Henderson's face scrunches up. "I guess he's not really a fish though, so I'll try whatever." He grabs a box of Honey Combs from the shelf.

"Dude, are you keeping a sea turtle at your house again? You know that's illegal."

"No!" Henderson snaps, flushing. "And I was going to take Dart back after show and tell, I had already promised Steve!"

"Steve?" That was a new name. Eddie hadn't heard Henderson talk about a Steve before, and the guy was kind of a motormouth and a terrible liar. The only time Eddie had seen him actually avoid a topic was when his little disappearing acts were brought up. "Who's Steve?"

Henderson's eyes go comically wide. "No-one! I don't know any Steves!"

Eddie knew at least three Steves, and two were in Henderson's grade. "Uh-huh."

"Anyways," Dustin says, clutching the box of Honey Combs to his chest as he backs down the aisle. "I gotta go man, nice seeing you, bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watches him go. He's planning to give Henderson a five minute head start before he goes to tail him, but apparently, he needn't to have planned a stake out after all. Henderson finds him again, two aisles over, panting and red-faced.

"Actually, can you give me a ride?"

🧜‍♂️

"Eddie," Henderson says, voice even more serious and deadly than the time the party took on Vecna last month during their campaign. "I need you to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about what I'm going to show you."

Eddie cocks a brow at him. "Is this a drugs thing? Dude, you—"

"No!" Henderson snaps. "This is not a drug thing! This is a very serious life and death thing, and I need you to swear on you life you won't tell anyone about it."

"Dude," Eddie says, a little in awe. He stares out his windshield for a moment where they're still parked just outside of town. He can hear sounds of the ocean just past the ridge, waves crashing on the cliffs. It's a remote little area, opposite of the tourist favored beaches. Eddie, in fact, deals just a few miles down the shoreline from here. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Are you the world's dorkiest serial killer?"

"Eddie." Eddie turns to look at him. His face is grave, brows furrowed with real worry. "I'm serious."

"Okay... Okay, then."

"You have to swear."

"I swear."

And just like that, Henderson's face breaks into a bright smile. "I knew I could trust you!" he crows, grabbing up his bag from the store and kicking open his door.

Eddie stumbles out of his van after him, listening intently as they pick their way over the rocks.

"He's so cool, Eddie, you're going to love him. He totally saved my life when I was like ten and I got pulled out on a rip tide. Like, I really almost died dude and then he just swims up out of no where and helps me catch my breath. Helps me float there while I'm freaking out too until the life guard finally came out to get me. It was crazy! I come out here all the time to visit him, I think he gets a little lonely. So it's good you're here, I've been trying to think of someone else to introduce him to, but it's hard to figure out who's going to freak out and try to sell him to Sea World, or something."

They crest over the hill to a tiny little cove bitten out of the rocky shore, and carefully begin to make their way back down to the water's edge. Eddie's still not entirely sure Henderson hasn't brought him here to die. Maybe Steve is the serial killer and he uses Henderson as bait.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, once they reach the water. It's calmer here, the cliffs cutting this spot off from the larger waves. "Are you ready to see the coolest thing EVER?"

"Uh, sure, kid—"

Eddie doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence when he starts yelling.

"STEVE THIS IS EDDIE I BROUGHT HIM TO MEET YOU I PROMISE IT'S SAFE!"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, covering his ears. The lungs on this kid! "What the fuck dude— WHAT THE FUCK!!"

Because when he looks down, there is a face in the water. Eddie falls back on his ass, uncaring of the water soaking his jeans, and screams when the face in the water rises up out the ocean.

It looks pissed.

"Dustin," it says, glaring at Eddie. Eddie screams again, because it—the guy—the mermaid lifts himself fully onto the rocks, and he doesn't have any legs. Because he has a fucking tail.

A fucking fish tail.

"Steve!" Dustin cheers. "You came out."

"You sure?" the goddamn mermaid asks, finally taking his piercing, alien eyes off of Eddie to look at him. "Sure it safe?"

"Absolutely," Dustin says hastily, crouching beside Eddie to put his hands on his shoulders. "Eddie just screams a lot, I promise you, he's totally safe."

"R-Right," Eddie says, because he does not want to be eaten. Maybe Dustin's been dragging unsuspecting victims here to feed his pet goddamn mermaid instead of a serial killer. "Totally safe, that's me."

Steve, the goddamn fucking mermaid, looks him up and down doubtfully, and it's terrifying having those eyes on him, unnaturally yellow surrounded by black. His face is distressingly human, nose and mouth and ears with a mop of dark hair on his head. He has these bright shimmering scales across his cheekbones that dot down his jaw and neck, iridescent and glimmering in the afternoon sun. Eddie can't bring himself to look down further, scared and enraptured all at once.

Steve is terrifying and beautiful to look at.

"Fine," says Steve and pushes himself gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

"What the fuck," Eddie breathes. He looks up at Dustin with wide eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Dustin just grins down at him. "Isn't he the coolest?!"

#stranger things #steddie #ficlet fill #that's quickly turning into a fic that's fun #I WANTED YOU TO HAVE MORE HERE'S MORE MWAH #my steddies

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie aolomons x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut

[lemonlinelights]

Intervention

ao3

Summary: The turtles are worried about Casey Jr's recent behavior.

A short fic based off of somerandomdudelmao’s Cass Apocalyptic series 

   Casey Jr!” Mikey yelled. It was a type of shout heard on long car rides when a cow was spotted. Casey froze, his hand hovering over the door knob. 

   “Hi?” Casey asked. He turned around to face Mikey. Then he immediately regretted doing so. It wasn’t only Mikey that was there. Donnie and Leo had appeared quietly, flanking either side of Casey. It reminded him of that dinosaur movie they watched together to have him “better understand pop-culture”. 

   “Well um,” Casey turned around “I’ve gotta go-” he tried to make a break for it only to be met with the wall that is Raphael Hamato. Casey was surrounded. 

   “What, what is this, an intervention?” Casey joked. He was the only one who laughed.

   “Precisely.” Donnie said. Casey’s eyes widened. 

   “We’re worried about you.” Raph said, hand on Casey’s shoulder. Reassuring, but also stopping Casey from bolting. 

    “Me?” Casey asked. 

    “Yes, you!” Leo exclaimed. “Who else would we be talking about?” He waved his arms around. 

   “…not me?” Raph’s brow furrowed. 

   “You haven’t been home at all.” Mikey said, officially opening the floodgates. 

   “We haven’t seen you eat.” 

   “You won’t talk to us.”

   “Have you been sleeping at all?” 

   “You’re skittish.” 

    “And I know you’ve been stealing from my lab!” Donnie shouted. 

   “Also, you’ve been lying.” Leo finished. Casey rocked back and forth. 

   “Psh, me, lying?” Casey waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea. 

   “Does saying you have an uncle of all things ring any bells, Casey?” Leo asked, hands on his hips. Casey felt his heart sink. 

   “What Leo means to say is, we can help Casey, whatever it is that’s bothering you, us, April, Splinter, and…even Draxum.” Raphael explained, he squeezed Casey’s shoulder. Donnie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t scoff. 

   “Yeah!” Mikey exclaimed. “I can use my pizazz!” He said while finger gunning at Casey. 

   Casey couldn’t do this. What felt like an eternity to Casey looked like a blur to the others. He yanked himself out from under Raph’s hand, dodging Mikey trying to grab him. 

   “No!” Casey shouted. “No, you can’t help!” 

   “Yes we can!” Leo shouted back and God the way he tilted forward, arms opened wide, a determined look on his face. Casey choked back tears. 

   “You can’t bring them back!” 

    Everyone stilled. 

   “You look just like them.” Casey whispered. But that also wasn’t the full truth.

    Sure Leo did what Uncle Tello called the mom stance but he didn’t do it with the same caring grin. Smile lines and crows’ feet missing from his face. Donnie rolled his eyes but it wasn’t the same playfulness. Mikey did finger guns but there wasn’t the same spark, literally and figuratively. And this Raph couldn’t hold him the same, they weren’t there yet. He wasn’t there yet with any of them, where an embracing hug was the default. They were so much alike but they were not the same turtles he knew. They were not his senseis. 

   All he wanted right now was a genuine Hamato hug. His Hamatos’ hugs. And Uncle Tello could do that. Uncle Tello was here. Uncle Tello was working towards a day where all of them could hug Casey again. Casey could do that. Casey could be here with them, his senseis. 

   “I can fix it.” Casey said. His hope poured out like a squashed oozesquito. Sad and beaten but still going. 

    “Huh?” Mikey said. 

    “Just you wait!” Casey exclaimed, running out of the lair, heels on fire. 

   “Casey, wait!” Leo started to go after him. One of Donnie’s mechanical limbs reached out and grabbed him. 

   “What would you even do?” Donnie asked. Leo didn’t know. He didn’t know. None of them know. 

   But Casey? Casey knew. Casey knew exactly what he was going to do. For once in his life he knew exactly what he wanted and he knew exactly how to get it. 

   Casey Hamato knows.

#the spacing on tumblr is so wacky #i try XD #cass apocalypse series #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey junior #rottmnt fic #love cass' comic so much it is wonderful #the shoulder thing the turtles do in the comic #BUT PAINFUL >:D #heres hoping that the readmore works #drabble #my writing #angst

[desceros]

I gotta request a mating season scenario with Bayverse Donnie X Reader - Mutual Pining and Smut (I love him so much).

[openly weeping] thank you for giving me the excuse to write this anon-chan, you're too good, too pure donatello/reader, EXPLICIT, female reader, 1.9k. donnie's been too shy to take that plunge, but you just smell so good and it's that time of year

You’ve been friends with Donnie long enough to… think about it. What it would be like to let him know how pretty he is. To sit in his lap and press your forehead to his jaw. 

(To unbuckle those suspenders and maybe see what kind of mischief you can get up to.)

To… hold his hand. To… to belong to him.

…But you’ve probably been friends for too long, you think. The relationship would have changed by now if he was interested. He’s not the kind of guy to want something without having it for very long, not without doing something about it. It’s not gonna happen. It’s a wild, hilarious thought—you’ve been friendzoned by a turtle—but that’s just the life you have now, you guess.

So when it finally, suddenly happens, to say you’re surprised is a bit of an understatement.

You’re in his lab, helping him organize his screwdriver collection. Sometimes they get a little mixed up if he gets worked into a frenzy or so tired his eyes start to blur, and it feels good to help him. He likes having your hands for the more boring chores, and you like basking in the dorky little smile he gives you as thanks.

Lost in the monotonous task, you don’t notice him staring, his eyes burning between your shoulder blades, until you feel him in your personal bubble. It’s a blink of time, a breath of awareness, then everything changes.

Donnie tucks his face into your throat, his plastron pressed along your spine as his hands cup your hips and pull them back into his own. Shocked at the intimacy of the touch, you feel yourself go still in his hold, wondering if there’s a gas leak in his lab and you’re hallucinating. 

His mouth parts, his teeth find your pulse, and you decide this is very, very real.

“D… Donnie?” you manage, voice syrupy in your own ears.

“…Smell good,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing into you harder, stepping impossibly closer, forcing you forward until your thighs are caught between his and the edge of the table and you have to smack your palms onto it to keep upright. A cup of screws falls over, spills; but he doesn’t react. Your eyes dart over to the door of his lab; it’s wide open, and you’re not even remotely tucked away back here. 

“Donnie—Donnie, what are you—” you say, though your voice catches in your throat when you feel him turn his head, tucking his beak behind your ear and brushing a long line of claiming kisses down to your shoulder. Your eyes flutter, blood beginning to rush hot in your veins even as you look again to the door of his lab.

Donnie, if he cares, doesn’t show it. Not in the way he slides one hand up your shirt, seeking skin and seeming intoxicated when he finds it. You feel his moan between your shoulder blades as much as you hear it, making your eyes squeeze shut. Oh, wow, that’s—that’s even better than all the times you’ve imagined it, and you’ve maybe imagined it a lot. 

“…too soon,” he mumbles, though how you’re able to catch it when his fingers are fumbling at the button to your jeans, you’re not sure how. 

“Wh… What’s too soon?” you ask, licking your lips and trying to scoop enough consciousness together to talk. “Don—Donnie, you—Did you drink something? Smell something? This is—”

Donnie stops, his forehead finding your shoulder. He’s shaking, you realize, but when you try to turn he presses you harder against the table, pinning you into place. Oh god, oh fuck.

“About two weeks early,” he says through what sounds like clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t—Shouldn’t be happening yet. Normally I can feel it coming on and warn you, but—Have I ever told you you smell really good? You smell so good—”

He shifts his face again, pressing his beak to the corner of your throat and shoulder to inhale deeply. Your hair stands on end, goosebumps flaring down your skin like wildfire. An embarrassing noise catches in your throat. You swallow it, brow furrowing. “What’s early?”

His lips move in a mumble that disappears into the neckline of your shirt. A neckline which, you suddenly realize, is damp from where he’s mouthing at it. Like he’s trying to take it off of you with his teeth. That’s—okay. That’s a lot.

“Didn’t catch that,” you wheeze. 

“…mating season,” he enunciates, igniting every single cell in your body. 

“You… have a mating season,” you choke, staring deliriously at one screw that slowly spins in a circle. He nods. “And you—You’re doing this with—me?” 

“Always you,” he says, starting to ramble as he tugs at the hem of your shirt like it’s offending him. “Every Spring, I feel it coming and you always look so pretty and happy. I’ve been wanting to ask you for years, but I—I’ve never worked up the cour—You smell so fucking good. Can I—I want to—” He whines, trembling, you think, from the concentration it’s taking for him to hold back and speak. His hands are tight on your sides, gripping you, just shy of where it’ll leave a mark.

Your eyes burn as you squeeze them shut. There’s a conversation to be had here, about why he was so fucking stupid and didn’t talk to you, about how much you’ve wanted this too, about what it’s going to mean—but that can be had later, especially considering you’re not completely sure he’s all there. 

“Yeah,” you gasp out, reaching out a hand to snatch at his and bring it to the button of your jeans again. “Yeah, let’s—yes.”

His wrist twists and he’s got his fingers inside your underwear faster than you can suck in a breath at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Beak pressed to your cheek, you hear Donnie chanting thank you thank you thank you, mouth hanging open before he brings his slick fingers to his mouth to slide them inside and wrap his tongue around them. 

“Donnie, fuck,” you breathe when he groans like he took a hit of something hard. It’s wet in your ear, and when he slides his fingers back to your clit and starts to trail biting kisses along your jaw, you can’t help but think about it. Your arms quake where they’re holding you up, helping you press against him, taking the weight of where he’s draped himself like he wants to be your shell.

An impatient noise rips out of his throat, and you feel his other hand tugging at the waist of your jeans. Huffing a laugh at his uncharacteristic ineffectiveness, you grab his wrists to pull him away before you shimmy them down your legs. 

…It’s right when he gets his fingers inside you, stretching you, pretty moans of your name in your ear, when you remember the whole door situation. 

“Donnie—”

“Wanna fuck you,” he slurs against your nape. Your skin stretches too-tight, the bottom of your stomach dropping out in arousal. “Smell like you. Want you to smell like me—” 

He grabs something out of the toolbox, a loud clattering sound, and you feel your panties go slack at your hip, then fall to the floor when he pulls the fabric away. “You—Did you just cut my—”

“In the way. More efficient,” he answers, dropping whatever it was back into place without a care. There goes your toolbox organizing, though it’s maybe hard to care when you feel something slick rub against you, his tail dipping between your legs and pressing close. “Mmm. Spread your legs, pretty. Little more. There, right there.”

He holds you still when he’s happy with your position, one hand at your hip and the other spreading you open in a manner that has the whole door situation falling pretty low on your thinking about this right now list. You’re more interested in the glide of his cloaca against you, the promise of his hitched breath in your ear, the wet kiss that morphs into a low moan as he drops inside of you. 

“Donnie,” you moan, head falling between your rolled shoulders as pleasure makes you tremble. It feels incredible how he fills you, your lungs unable to expand to breathe as it feels like he’s all the way in your throat. His hands grab your hips and tilt them, using them as leverage as he ruts wetly in a filthy glide that makes you mewl and twist. 

Through the fog of bliss, you hear him; he’s babbling, nigh-incoherently. You can just make out a few phrases here and there—so pretty, smell so good, fill you up, breed you full—that make you absolutely incinerate. It feels like he’s consuming you, his whines and moans ringing in your ears. 

The rising tide of ecstasy burns like fire in your veins, your teeth releasing your lip as you’re no longer able to contain the animal noises he’s clawing out of you. Nails dragging along the surface of his table, you come, wailing his name. He presses, making your elbows bend, and you fold into the table as he rails into you with hard slapping hips until he, too, climaxes. His forehead presses hard between your shoulder blades as he fills you, hot and more than you’ve ever taken before, until you feel it running down your legs where you can’t take any more. 

“…Holy shit,” you pant, barking a disbelieving laugh. Donnie, seeming annoyed that you’re able to talk, sinks his teeth into your throat before he kisses it to soothe. 

“Sorry, I, uh. I was hoping we’d talk about that before it happened,” he says once he can breathe again, sounding a little guilty. You shoot him an incredulous look over your shoulder. 

“Are you insane? You just made me come my brains out. How are you apologizing right now? That’s, like, the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” You glance to the door. “Um. Even if I’m pretty sure everyone else heard it, too.” 

He huffs a laugh, nuzzling his face into your nape. “They’re, uh. Gone. For the week. I’m usually on a bit of a delayed cycle from the others, but I think you being here triggered it. I always love how you smell, and I guess the turtle brain just decided it was tired of waiting on me.” 

Oh, that’s… really sweet, you think, trying not to cry. You lick your lips, opening your mouth to speak only for a whimper to come out instead, forehead rolling on the table’s surface, when you feel his cock start to slide out. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s—” he breathes, hips pressing a little harder against your own until you feel empty again. As he moves, you hear the wet sound of his cloaca rubbing against you. “Huh. You’re kind of a mess.” 

“Yeah, thanks for that,” you wheeze, trying not to get turned on again when you’d just come. “So, um… season. That’s like, more than once, right?” 

There’s a moment of silence, and then you feel a smile on your back that’s a little shy, and a lot hungry. 

#tmnt #donatello/reader #bayverse #ask tag #all hail the turtle anatomy #my fic #....i wanna do a longer version of this. maybe someday #rating: e

[cryptocism]

i was gonna ask how inertia II (helped superboy prime fight the teen titans) fit in the too many thads AU cause i originally thought he was an thad/bart clone but? he's just some dude? i feel like your (fantastic) fic gave him as much mind as the comics

truly that version of Inertia is such a mystery to me GOD i have so many questions. like, he isn't paid much mind within the actual narrative bc there's like 8 different fights happening all at once and Superboy Prime is the main antagonist but, straight up Who Is He.

like in the span of #98-100 there's a couple things that do get confirmed about him

for instance:

"After this is over, I gotta talk to them about this costume they gave me, I mean - green? It's the color of a turtle. Talk about Irony." - "This Inertia hasn't got a clue. He doesn't know that the last speedster to wear that costume killed me. I got better. But the scars run deep."

New Inertia says "they" gave him the Inertia costume. Who is "they"? Superboy Prime? CRAYDL? Someone else?

Bart concludes that New Inertia doesn't know how the previous one killed him. I assume just based on New Inertia's irreverence? But unclear.

"Inertia killed Bart, but that's not the same one. He's two inches taller. No doubt the costume choice is deliberate. Bart only has a few buttons, so it's easy to push them."

Tim notes in his narration that this Inertia is two inches taller than the last one. Why? What purpose does that serve?

Superboy Prime has proven himself capable of making clones, given the gaggle of Kon clones that show up in this fight, but if he made New Inertia to be another clone of Bart or of the previous Inertia, why the physical difference?

Even Bart can't figure out if this guy is a clone or not:

"What's the deal with all these clones? Is that Inertia one too? Or just another speedster?"

Which is kinda wild because although there is a wide selection of speedsters in present, Bart knows pretty much all of them. And even if this is a Random Guy With Superspeed, what would compel him to be here, fighting Bart?

And before any questions can be asked or answers can be given, Bart gets a lil lost in the trauma sauce (can't really blame him) and kicks the shit out of New Inertia

"I died. That happened. Inertia was the catalyst for it. He delivered the fatal blow. But I'm back, and this isn't the same Inertia, right? This is real. I've played out this scenario in my head over and over again. And every time, it felt better and better. Inflicting pain. Destroying him. Avenging myself." "So much anger - radiating like the sun. A dark, black sun. Bart is seething with rage." "It's what he deserves."

the "it's what he deserves" line always gets me. because they've already established this is a New Inertia, he literally hasn't done anything except fuck around causing trouble along with the rest of Superboy Prime's posse. anyway Bart obviously has lots of baggage surrounding Inertia, with the actions of one bleeding onto the other.

(fun fact Raven's description of Bart's emotions being a dark black sun informs a lot of the imagery in chapter 21 of Frequency)

"I... I could've killed him." "But you didn't. You controlled your emotions." "Yeah. See, Raven - we all got our demons inside."

AND THAT IS THE LAST WE SEE OF THIS GUY. Where does he go after this? Is he still unconscious after the fight or does he get away while they're going after Superboy Prime? Who does he go back to? Who The Hell Is He? Fuck you they gotta punch Superboy Prime so hard he ends up in purgatory.

Then of course the run is over, the universe is rebooted, and we get New 52. So all these questions will presumably remain unanswered forever.

But Canon Things About New Inertia Include:

he's "new to this"

not the previous incarnation of Inertia

two inches taller than the previous Inertia

received the Inertia costume from someone else, only referred to as "they"

working with Superboy Prime, but with zero on-panel interactions with either Superboy Prime or any of the other villains who have joined the fight. the degree of familiarity is unclear if not nonexistent.

irreverence regarding his predecessor implies he doesn't know the full history of what went down between Inertia and Bart

may or may not be another clone

gets the shit kicked out of him

it's so frustratingly vague lmao.

so yeah i took that and ran with it to inform Six's traits and backstory: The "they" who gave him the costume becoming CRAYDL, the other Six's, (and Project Inertia more generally). His height because he's slightly older than the previous Inertia was.

Follows-up on the previous Inertia's antagonism with only vague knowledge of what actually happened. Underestimates Bart's feelings on the topic. Joins up with Superboy Prime, not because of loyalty or familiarity but because going solo is what killed the old guy. Irreverent, uncommitted, overconfident. Tends to get the shit kicked out of him.

and then to follow up on this fight, Six's "first" meeting with Bart becomes his own weird revenge quest over that one time Bart kicked his ass. mostly just wanted the closure there, and for Six to have held a grudge about it for literal centuries bc it is funny 2 me.

my motivation for writing Frequency came from a frustration at the contradictory/unexplained/unexplored plot points and storylines specifically surrounding Thad/Inertia, this whole thing being a major one. At its most basic, Frequency is just my attempt to weave the disparate elements of canon into a cohesive narrative.

#asks #reversedumbrella #got carried away with this one lmao i just #i still dont know why this new guy showed up or what he was even doing there #its gonna eat at me forever #the multiple clones theory is a very convenient explanation that nonetheless remains fanmade #frequency fic

[imababblekat]

Not A Webs Chance

Prompt: The boys are at it again in guessing who the mysterious, friendly neighborhood Spider Hero of New York could be. With a joking comment, the minds of each ninja begin to wonder if it is perhaps you under the mask!”

Notes:

(s/p) = spider persona name)

~xXx~ “All I’m saying is it’s kind of nice to have some of the heat off our shells for once.”, Leo defended, raising his arms from the back of the couch. The leader terrapin and his brothers sat in April’s and yours shared living room, the small old square tv in the center casting the news of events from a few hours prior. The headline “Super Market Robbery Put To A Quick Halt” streamed across the bottom of a recorded video of New Yorkers friendly (s/p) swinging off screen. “I miss kicking bad guy butt, but you do have a point bro.”, Mikey agreed, finishing off another pizza slice. “When’s the last time we got to finish a whole pizza in one sitting?!” “You mean all of us or just you? Cuz I can tell ya the answer to that real quick.”, Raph jested, his younger brother ignoring him in favor of grabbing another slice. Shaking off a slice offered by Donnie, Leo cheekily smirked at Raph. “You’re still just mad at the fact they totally whipped your behind when we first met.” Raph, grumbling, jabbed a digit towards the his brother. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly see ya win the fight either. In fact, if I remember correctly they had ya danglin’ by Mikey’s nun-chucks.” With a dreamy sigh, ignoring the heat rising between both brothers, Mikey spoke through a mouth full of cheese. “That was so hot how they did it, too~.” Finishing his own slice and returning to a gadget in hand, Donnie let out a light chuckle. “You say that but you don’t even know them.” “Don’t you know actions speak louder than words?!”, Mikey swooned across Leo’s lap, the later shoving him of with an eye roll. “Besides, I already know who they are anyways.” At this, all turtles stopped what they were doing, sharply turning to the youngest with curiosity brimming in their eyes. Was this it? Were the boys finally going to find out who the mystery person behind the mask was after all this time of fighting crime side by side? “You saw their face?!”, all boys shouted in unison, leaning in towards the orange bandanna turtle. With a big smile, and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, Mikey replied. “Nope!” All brothers deadpanned, but before any could retort back, Mikey continued. “Don’t need to. I finally figured out who they are.” Leo chuckled incredulously, sitting back once more. “We already went over this Mikey. It’s not April.” “Or Master Shredder.”, came Donnie’s chime in. “Or that one guy runnin around’n a rat costume.”, added Raph. Mikey shook his head with a mildly irritated groan at his brothers mentions of his past theories to (s/p)’s true identity. “Just hear me out! I know I’ve got it this time!” Each ninja turtle listened doubtfully but motioned for Mikey to go on. “It’s clearly the cute delivery person. Why else would they leave me an extra slice of triple cheese, deluxe pepperoni?”, he smiled wide, making a mind blowing motion with his hands. “Uhm, because they didn’t want to waste any food at the end of the night? You’d be surprised how much humans throw out at closing.”, Donnie expressed knowledgeably. Falling back defeatedly into the sofa with crossed arms, Mikey huffed. “Well since you’re such a genius, who do you think it is, Don?” Donnie thought for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “The odds of us guessing who it is, or if we even know the person in such a heavily populated city is statistically extremely low.” Mikey rolled his head back with a loud groan and Leo laughed. “Come on, Don. You gotta guess someone. Anyone.” Donnie’s face scrunched up as he truly tried, Leo and Mikey throwing out more theories on who they thought the mystery person could be. Slightly frustrated, the leaner brother nodded his head towards Raphael. “Why don’t you guys ask Raph? He always seems to have something smart to say.” Playing with the toothpick between his teeth, Raph chuckled before throwing a thumb back to the kitchen. “Obviously, it’s that dork.” All eyes turned towards the human in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven wafting around them. Even though Raphael had been 100% joking around, the cogs in each of the four brothers brains began to turn as they gazed at none other than you. You, who stood in the kitchen with disheveled hair and wrinkly pajamas after waking from what was supposed to be a thirty minute nap turned six, were the only person neither of the ninja brothers had ever thought to consider. However, now watching as you carefully studied an oven mitt, they started to notice things they hadn’t before. You were about the right height and size as (s/p). Thinking back to certain moments, the brothers also realized how some of the things you both would say sounded similar. Heck, in some sense, even your voices sounded somewhat the same. It also seemed to be quite the coincidence that whenever their spidery friend swung off after defeating some baddies, you would show up moments later. Could it be? Could you truly be the person that occupied the ninja turtles minds with your spectacular crime fighting powers and personality?! Just as lightbulbs in the brothers minds were about to go off, they had all witnessed you toss the oven mitt in the air and try to, very unsuccessfully, karate jab your hand into said mitt, only for it to fall splat to the tiled floor. “Eeeyeeeeah, scratch that. I like Mikey’s rat costume guy betta.”, Raph spoke turning back around with his brothers. “Oh come on! You’re never gonna let that go, huh?!”, Mikey exasperated as another round of argumentative theories sprung up between the four. Too lost in each others reasonings for why or why not (s/p) could be this or that person, the four brothers missed you accidentally webbing your oven mitt to the ceiling in a re-attempt at earliers action, a panicked look quickly finding place on your face as you rushed to get it free.

~xXx~

#bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #tmnt spiderman au #spiderman reader #imababblekat’s writing

[ssturniolo]

if your requests are open <3 You and Chris have been taking it slow after you guys confessed, but one day in his room you and Chris get caught sharing a kiss by Nick and Matt walking in and they’re going ballistic

Secret

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - swearing, kissing, I think that’s it?

𝔞/𝔫 - Nick and Matt don’t really go ballistic but I hope this is ok! <3

You and Chris have been dating for two months now, and have done a great job keeping it a secret. Even from his brothers. They HAD in-fact noticed that you two were hanging out alone more often, but because of Chris’s commitment issues, they never suspected anything.

“Where the fuck is Chris” Matt groaned, annoyed at Chris for taking so long.

“Yeah, the movies starting in 20 minutes, someone go tell him to hurry” Nick agrees, glancing down at his phone to check the time.

You guys were going to see the new ninja turtles movie, well… you were supposed to but at this rate, you weren’t gonna make it.

“Im on it” you say, already heading down to Chris’s room.

You enter the room to find Chris, frantically searching for something.

Looking up at your questioning face, Chris sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve been looking for my phone for the past 10 minutes and I have no fucking clue where it is” he says, his voice laced with frustration.

“Here, just sit on the bed, I’ll look for it” you command, already searching through his room.

After only searching for about 2 minutes, you find his phone sitting on the edge of his desk, under some papers.

“It was here the whole time dipshit” you say, holding up his phone so he can see.

“Oh my hero” he jokes, getting off his bed and walking over to you.

Sliding his phone into his hoodie pocket, he rests his hands on your waist, backing you into the wall.

“In all seriousness though, thanks I never would have found it” he says, moving one hand up to cup your cheek.

Before you can respond, his lips were on yours, his body pressing you against the wall. Running your hands through his already messy hair, you tilt your head, deepening the kiss.

“What’s taking you two so lo-” Nick starts, freezing once he sees you two.

Jumping apart, you look at the doorway to see an amused Matt, and a shocked Nick. Glancing at Chris, wide eyed, you open your mouth to explain, but close it again at a loss of words.

“When… why… how… um, how long?” Nick stammered, still in shock from what he just saw.

“Um, about two months” you say, letting out a nervous laugh, your eyes flickering between Chris and his brothers.

Before either of them could respond to that, Chris clears his throat, clearly nervous. “Are… are you mad?” He questions, his voice quiet.

“Are you kidding me man? This is great! Just never would’ve expected it” Matt says, pushing past Nick to dap Chris up.

Turning back to Nick, who’s still standing in the doorway, you raise your eyebrows. “You good man?” You ask, a laugh escaping your lips.

“Never better. I’m so happy for you guys” he says, beaming at Chris like a proud mom.

“Hate to break this up but we gotta go, the movie starts in ten” Matt says, already walking up the stairs, Nick shortly following.

Turning to Chris who’s already looking at you, you smile, grabbing his hand in yours.

“I’m glad our secret is finally out”

“Me too”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There is A LOT of dialogue in this one and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I hope y’all like it!

XOXO - Zoe

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #fypage #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #imagine #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagine #boyfriend #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

[teainthesnow]

@cupcakeslushie s latest feral!leo comic has completely taken over my thoughts so here, have a written version:

.

..

Just keep walking, he tells himself as he struggles forward.

His legs are weak and each step is painful but he pushes on regardless, despite not really knowing why he should. He’s tired, hungry, and in so much pain that he’s almost numb.

But something tells him to keep going.

Voices, so familiar yet completely unknown, whisper to him in an otherwise silent world, saying:

You can do it.

You can do it.

You can do it.

So, he does.

He marches onwards through the hours, weeks, months – he doesn’t even know anymore – letting blurry memories and indistinct voices guide him through the darkest moments.

His tattered clothes provide little warmth in the freezing air and he grasps them tightly, trying to give himself even just a tiny bit more warmth. He shivers almost violently, but some part of him is relieved that he’s still doing at least that much in this cold.

Each step is an effort.

Each one harder than the last.

Just keep walking, he reminds himself.

Just keep walking, the voices echo.

And then there’s a fierce pain in his toe and he trips. He lands on the dusty ground with a hard thump, sending dust and rocks into the air. There’s a loud clatter as almost the entire contents of his makeshift bag go careening across the floor.

He growls in frustration and pain, blinking back tears.

(He can’t afford to lose more water, after all.)

He lies where he landed, exhausted, hurt, and completely unwilling to get back up again.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been laying there when he sees a flash of red in the corner of his blurred vision.

‘Come on, Leo.’ A voice says, gentle yet encouraging. ‘You gotta get up.’

But the words that should inspire him feel empty and meaningless. He cannot gain even a spark of motivation from them.

“No...” He manages to whine, voice raspy with disuse. “Tired...”

He presses his face into the ground, letting the darkness take over, and attempts to block it all out. Maybe it will all go away if he can’t see it.

But the voice persists.

‘Get up.’ He says, harsher but still kind.

He snarls, the last threads of his patience snaps. He pushes himself up, claws digging into the dirt, so he can stare his brother in the face.

“Shut up!” He spits out, words dripping with anger and pent-up frustration. He clutches his head in his hands, pressing down with so much force that his nails dig into his skin.

“Shut up! That’s all you ever say!” He yells. “Get up. Get up. Get up.” His voice his sore from lack of use but the frustration is too overwhelming to stop. He allows himself to let go of his restraint. To let the anger consume him.

“I just want some peace and quiet R-R-R-” He chokes on the word, anger dissolving almost instantly into horror. The name that should be so easy to say slips through his grasp like sand.

He looks up and realises that he can’t really recognise the face that stares back at him.

And can’t think of the name that belongs to it.

He panics.

He desperately searches through his bag, reaching desperately for the one thing he’s had since this all began.

His only flicker of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.

His treasure.

All the while he frantically tries to remember his brothers name. But he can only get as far as the first letter, the first syllable, before he falters.

He pulls out the old and torn photograph, running a finger gently across it despite his panic.

He stares, wide-eyed at the red and green form of the turtle who he knows is his brother.

But who now stares, nameless, back at him.

“Nonononono.” He cries. “R- Rah-”

But no matter what he does, or how hard he stares, he cannot force himself through the fog that fills his brain in order to remember just one simple name.

The face in the photograph smiles at him.

‘It’s okay little brother.’

The voice, his brother, speaks again.

There is no hatred in his tone. No anger that he has been forgotten and he clings to that. To the feeling of warmth and safety.

Of home.

He closes his eyes.

He hugs desperately at himself.

His body is so numb that he can almost pretend that he isn’t alone. That he’s back where he really belongs with his family.

Safe and unharmed.

Enveloped within the warm embrace of his older brother.

“Ra-h will always be here.”

And he holds on to those words with every ounce of strength he has left.

You can do it; he tells himself once again, trying desperately to convince himself that he isn’t lying.

#rottmnt #feral leo au #hope it's okay to tag #I couldn't write anything else until I wrote this

[tmnt-tychou]

2003 Romance/Mating Season HC

Rating: Eh...hard PG13? The turtles are ADULTS when mentioned in this HC.

Mating season for the 03 boys is thankfully brief of only a week and a half. They are pretty synced in their cycles and usually go through it all at the same time. When mating season hits and, if they don't have a significant other to expend energy and instinct on, they turn into fucking weirdos.

They become very twitchy and cagey, always eyeballing each other like each is going to attack them. If they didn't notice you there and you tap them on the shoulder, they will jump and give you such a wide-eyed look of terror like you caught them doing something bad.

And they're weirdly itchy. There are a few places in the lair that have big brushes fixed to the wall where they can scratch their shells. Usually it's the lower part of the shell that's the itchiest. If April visits during this time, she practically has turtles crawling over her lap. They want to steal her body heat and beg for shell scritches. It's not even sexual with April, they are just very uncomfortable and want to snuggle with her gentle vibes.

But then Casey saw how they were with her once and was like “Aw HELL nah!” so now April doesn't go down to the lair during 'their time of the year' anymore.

Leo

He is very careful with who he trusts with his heart and his body. You gotta WORK to get this man to open up to you and let you in. Leo favors patience and if you don't have any, it may not work out with him. He is a complex person and has a lot of things to say without using any words. He needs someone who is okay with silence and who knows how to listen to his language. For a long time, he's going to treat you gently, like a bomb that may go off at any time. He is not very good at opening up and letting people in. It takes him a while to learn. You opening up to him first helps set an example.

When he starts to trust, he is very sweet and attentive. He remembers a lot of random things you say to him, how you said them. He remembers certain times exactly the way you looked or smelled. He keeps a scrap book of you in his brain and brings them out to share with you randomly. It's how he shows you're important to him.

He will never raise his voice to you, even if he's angry. Yelling is what he does with his brothers. You're different. Sometimes it's maddening because you know he's mad, but he's being so annoying by staying so calm while you argue. Not that you argue much. When he's infatuated with you, he lets you get away with absolute murder. His brothers are very jealous of the girlfriend treatment you get when it comes to his patience.

He's kind of a pain in the ass during mating season. His territorial instincts go through the roof. Get anywhere near one of his brothers and he gets cranky. You could have the most mundane conversation ever with one of his brothers and he will still get annoyed. He might even growl at them. He will most likely insist you stay at your place and he will come to you during that time. That way he can have you all to himself and there are no other male turtle scents to annoy him.

While he's very alpha around his brothers, when the two of you are alone, he can switch from being on top to being submissive. Leo's hormones send him from one end of the spectrum to the other so he's very wishy-washy about what he wants. Sometimes he wants you to lay back and be his Good Girl. Other times, he'll want you to climb up and have your way with him. And while the rest of the year, he is very quiet in bed, you catch him when his hormones are high, he can get LOUD. Another reason he prefers to spend his season at your place. And he will pretty much live in your bedroom as a kept turtle for a week and a half if you let him. He'll bitch about you going to work where other males are. And if his brothers need him, that's too bad. He's BUSY. The only way his brothers can get him back home is if they start texting you. Then he will have to go down to the sewers so he can murder them.

Donnie

With Donnie, if you want his attention, you have to give a little to get a little. He is practically married to his lab, so if you want some of his time, you gotta pay a little lip service to his first love. Ask him what he's working on and show interest in his projects. He can tell when you're just being polite, so if you're genuinely interested, he will fall harder for you. Once you have given proper time to him, sometimes he will give you proper time back and sometimes you have to remind him that he needs to put time into the relationship now and the two of you have talked about this. If you show up with something specific for you two to do, you will have an easier time getting him away. In fact, if you catch him in a slump, he may be happy for the distraction.

He is a very sweet partner, if a little absent minded. He WILL forget your birthday. Don't mistake, he remembers the date of your birthday, he just doesn't know what day TODAY is. (Maybe not even what day of the week it is. “We're still in March, right? Is it Friday?”) You may have to remind him it's coming up. He will start to get better at it by setting reminders for himself because he doesn't want to disappoint you. It's just that his brain goes a million miles a minute constantly and that thought is but one of many vying for his attention.

He is not good at sex in the beginning. Which frustrates him because he's read all the articles and studied the human female body. Why are you not liking this, sweetheart? What am I doing wrong? He quickly learns that your body isn't a machine where he can just turn the nobs and press the buttons and he's done. It takes him a while to get that it's an emotional thing and he has to be in the moment with you and respond on the fly as you two explore together. He will start scheduling sex so he can practice, which is weird, but okay Donnie. And it turns out to work in your favor as YOU are his new project now and he is very, very focused on you. It's a nice change of pace.

He has the lowest libido of his brothers during mating season. He's usually too busy to even notice it. “Oh, it's mating season?” Pauses to check to see if his shell is itchy. “Oh, I guess it is.” He can ignore the urges for quite a while. Then it will hit him like a truck. He'll suddenly appear at your place, pin you to the bed, and have his way with you for a few hours. Then, while you're an insensate puddle of goo, his dumb ass will get up to go back to his lab unless you find the energy to yell at him to get his shell back in bed.

P.S. Donnie wants you to know the itchy shells have nothing to do with mating hormones. They molt their scutes shortly after. The two things just coincidentally happen at the same time.

Raph

Learning to be Raph's partner is a little tricky. He likes you. He likes having someone to care about and protect. (And he is VERY protective.) But there is also a bit of a feral cat in him. He's weird about being touched at first, especially if you touch him without him noticing. Before you two were involved romantically, he would do that thing cats do when they sink under your hand to avoid being pet. (He still does it sometimes.) He gives Soft For Only You vibes, but doesn't know what to do when you're soft for him. It takes him a while to figure out his shit.

Raphael is weird about touch and intimacy. He likes it, but he doesn't really know how to engage in it. He needs it to happen on his terms, especially when he's first getting used to it. He needs someone who is patient and is okay with letting him come to them when he's ready. But while he's getting used to it, he still wants to be around you. He'll say sweet things to you, make thoughtful gestures, all the proper boyfriend stuff. But the physical touch is something that comes with time.

He is a very fussy, persnickety turtle about sex, especially that first time. He'll come up with all sorts of arbitrary rules about what you can do to him and where you can touch. It's best to let him take charge the first few times. He's better when he feels like he has control of the situation. After a while, if you can manage to get him to agree to letting you take the lead, he will complain the entire time. But if you're slow and gentle, he'll enjoy himself and maybe let you do it again.

He does NOT like his tail played with during intimacy, even though it's typically an erogenous zone for the turtles. If you grope it without asking permission he will BITCH, maybe for days, about how you don't listen to him or respect his boundaries. If you talk to him about why he doesn't like it, you'll find out there is no deeper trauma or anything, he's just wired that way. He doesn't enjoy it.

If you show that you respect him and you tell him you just like to see his tail because you think it's cute, he may bring it out now and then and even let you touch it. But if you try to fondle it in a sexual manner he will immediately withdraw and tell you in great detail how you done fucked up.

During mating season, if he doesn't have a significant other, he gets a little quiet and melancholy. The hormones make him feel lonely. If he has someone who has his heart, he's going to be the most snugly you've ever seen him. Which is still very mild for regular standards. He'll rest his chin on your shoulder or lay in your lap so you can scratch his shell. You might even get a tiny bit of churring if you listen carefully.

He is markably less persnickety about touch during this time of the year. He's more focused on railing you, so you can get your hands on him all you want. (Though you will get your hand swatted if you go for the tail.) Then he wants to lay on top of you and sleep off the sexy times for a few hours. Because that was a lot for him. If you try to sneak out of bed, he gets grouchy.

Mike

This grown ass turtle is always going to be a bit of a child. If you're dating him, prepare to get pranked on a regular basis. His favorite thing is to hide in the shadows and jump scare the hell out of you. He even broke into your apartment to scare you there. You nearly murdered him and yelled at him for an hour. He said he wouldn't do that again...but he's totally going to do it again.

You're going to get dick pics whether you want them or not. They're not even sexy pics. He'll dress it up or put it on a pizza or some dumb shit. You will learn quickly not to open ANY pictures from him while at work. He will also sext you on the regular if you're into that, and be happy to dirty talk you. But it will also get stupid a lot, too. This man is incapable of being serious for too long.

Despite all the bravado and dumbassery, he's very gentle and vanilla your first time being intimate. He doesn't want to hurt you and is so afraid he's going do something stupid and mess everything up. He's pretty much a blank slate ready to learn. If you take the initiative and tell him what you like or which things you want to dry, he will do the same. The two of you can get up to all sorts of sexy shenanigans as Mike is down with whatever you're down with. When you both get comfortable with intimacy, sex with him is always fun and warm and a lovely way to bond with each other.

During mating season, Mike is the horniest of the four by far. (He's also the itchiest. “Oh my God, Babe. Scratch my shell. It's SOOOO itchy!”) If he's not trying to bang you, he's draped over your lap, begging for shell scritches. He will arch up like a cat and do a little shimmy for you. He has no shame.

He also gets super hungry. So it will be lots of sex and snacks in bed. He is going to be SO. Fucking. NEEDY. During this time. An absolute velcro turtle. If you have to go to work, he will whine and moan like a child. And will probably break into your place (again!) and writhe in your sheets and send you lots of dirty pics and messages until you get home.

Legit by the time his season is over, he is being a full pain in the ass with how needy and selfish he's being. But after the fog lifts, he realizes what a butt he's been and apologizes and makes up for it with acts of love and giving some focus on you.

#tmnt #ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt headcanons

[yorshie]

Saw this post @fuckedupcleric and I was struck by the writing bug when I saw your tags hehe

Bayverse x GN reader (uses of the word babygirl as a nickname) (set in 2023 turtles are 24-25) SFW

Leo

Is drinking tea when he hears your dramatic sigh and exclamation, and it brings a smirk to his mouth.

“How would you like to be kissed?” He asks, demeanor calm, moves telegraphed as he sets his tea down and turns to watch you fluster over an answer.

Unable to give him one, he tilts his head before moving into your space, caging you against the sagging cushions and blocking your legs with his plastron. “How do you want to be kissed?” He asks again

When he gets nothing but wide eyed blinks and a deepening blush, he continues:

“Do you want sweet kisses like the petals of flowers brushing against your cheeks?” He leans in closer, breath brushing against skin starting to grow sensitive from imagined touches “Do you want a tender friend to sip from the honeyed nectar of your lips?” His breath is now a ghost upon your mouth, his words breathed in and taken into your lungs. Finally, he whispers, “do you want a desperate lover to coil his tongue against your own, to seek the treasure of your sounds of pleasure at his touch?”

He waits, a moment, a heartbeat, for your eyes to flutter shut, before he pushes up off the couch, taking the fevered fantasy tinged blue and the scent of tea with him.

“Something to contemplate.” He says with a devious smile, grabbing his tea and heading out of the living room.

Raph

He’s wiping the sweat from his workout off his arms and face when he hears your pathetic whine, and he immediately looks in your direction incredulously. Babygirl wants a kiss?

You don’t realize the trouble you’re in until his hand is under your jaw and he’s tipped your head back. You have a moment to think Red before he’s licking into your mouth and swallowing any sound you might have made at the abrupt attention.

When he’s got you thoroughly stupid from lack of oxygen and the way he nips at your mouth whenever you move too slow to reciprocate, he finally pulls back and looks you over.

“Need more?” He asks, tone low and striking the tinder in your gut, fanning the coals there back to life. When you only blink up at him, dazed and chin slick with combined drool, he laughs and dips his head back for another taste, licking up your jaw before covering your mouth once more.

Swirls of his tongue, painting over yours, smothering your moans with the thick of his tongue before pulling more out of you with his teeth tugging on your abused bottom lip. His thumb pressing against your cheek and holding you open for his slow perusal

“You need to be kissed , and kissed often.” He told you finally when he pulled back. “Anytime you need some lovin’, sweetheart, you come find me.”

The couch protests when he pushes off it, and you stay exactly where you were left as he walks away, blinking up at the light and wondering what on god’s green earth just happened.

Angelo

Mikey pauses the game when he hears you whine from the couch behind his head, baby blues wide as he all but spins around and stares up at you.

“You want kisses, sunshine?” He asks, sounding surprised, before a grin breaks out across his face. “Don’t gotta tell me twice, come here, baby!”

Grabby hands, pulling you down the couch and taking the cushions with you, til your back is on the seat and you can’t breathe from the giggles as he blows a raspberry against your cheek before peppering your face with kisses.

When you beg him to stop, he chimes off with a “nu uh! You said you wanted kisses, and I’ve got plenty of kisses, angel.”

When you finally grab a hold of his mask tails and hold him still for a proper kiss, your jaw and cheeks hurt from laughing so much, but who needs to catch your breath when Mikey is giggling against your lips. Certainly not you, certainly not now.

His kisses taste like the cinnamon hard candies you got him just to spoil him, and he sighs happily into the affection, plastron pressing you against the cushion.

When his hand sneaks to your hip where your shirt has raised up and starts tickling you however, you can do nothing but squawk in outrage into his mouth, fighting to wiggle out from his hold while he continues to press kisses to your cheek.

Donnie

Donnie turns from his project and blinks at you in surprise when he hears you lamenting your lack of kisses, his hands still fiddling with the small project he’d brought to the living room to keep busy with while hanging out.

“You’re protesting a lack of affection?” He asked, finally, pushing his glasses up his beak with one long finger while watching you. When you nod eagerly, he sets the little project aside, turning to face you more directly.

“Are you wanting me to kiss you?” He asks, tone a little playful, golden eyes dancing down your features to land on your lips for just a moment. When you pout and nod again, he chuckles, rocking up on his knees to shuffle into your space.

The first touch is testing, a mere press of lips, before you huff loudly and his break crinkles in amusement. His head tips to the side, hands coming up to frame your jaw and hold you in place while he kisses you deeply.

You sigh into his mouth, and he pulls back, glasses fogged up and soft, dorky smile breaking out across his face. “Better?”

“I was hoping for more than one kiss.” You told him, tapping your feet along his calves. He hummed at that, his smile solidifying into something a little more mischievous. “You were lamenting not being kissed, you never specified how many kisses.”

He waited until you were sputtering mad from that point before he kissed you again, the little snort of his laugh almost lost between the press of your mouths.

#my writing snippets #TMNT bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt Leonardo #TMNT donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donatello #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse mikey x reader

[mytheoristavenue]

I have seen your masterlist and (ignoring the soon top come) it needs more Leo fluff fics (read the rest multiple times already; some good freaking work)

If you don't feel like it that ist perfectly fine. I really just wanna throw something in here:

2k12 Leo ist pretty traditional so how would he be with the complete opposite as a s/o . Like "If your gotta, throw that katana" kinda vibe.

Anyhow, love your writing! Keep up the great work.

Have a lovely dayyy ok thx byyye<3

Sure, sorry for taking so long!

TMNT 2012 Leonardo x Reader - Unconventional

Summary: Leo grows to care for you, despite your lack of respect for tradition.

Warnings: Angst

If nothing else, you irritated Leo. He had spent hours arguing with Splinter, trying to appeal his decision to train you to be a kunoichi, fruitlessly, obviously. Those around the terrapin couldn't understand his distain for you. You were intelligent, out going, and determined, all traits that were well received in any other situation. In all honesty, Leo didn't understand it either.

----

"How's that lock coming, Donnie?" the leader asked his brother, a bit nervous.

"It'd be coming a lot faster if you'd quit asking about it." the tallest turtle snapped back, his tongue peaking out in concentration.

"Well, I'd love to just let you be," Leo responded rolling his eyes, only being halted by the need to defend himself from the android attacking him. "But currently I'm the only thing standing between you and the Kraang."

"So helpful." Donnie scoffed as he continued to struggle with picking the lock. He glanced over his shoulder to scan the room, finding you in the far corner, with your own set of problems. "(Y/N)! Come help me!" he shouted, instantly grabbing your attention.

"What's up?" you asked, skidding to your knees, behind the shield of Leo's shell.

"Can't get this lock open." he said, frustrated. "I need you to hold these two plates open so I can get into that control panel."

"You want me to stand here and hold this open for you? Don, I've gotta go help fight!" you argued.

As you both bickered about the importance of your time, Leo's eyes narrowed as the enemy forces suddenly drew back. From the other side of the room, a bay slowly began to open, giving an entrance to the room for a behemoth of a bot, which stomped into the room. "Um, guys? Maybe stop arguing and pick the damn lock?"

"Shit," you muttered, glancing back to see the new threat. "Donnie, I've got an idea-" You rushed to pick the last two arrows out of your quiver before plunging them into the panel, effectively securing the the plates open.

"That'll work." Donnie snickered, before getting back to it.

Now that one problem was solved, you had another entirely. Scanning the battle field, you found Mikey lying on the floor toward the center of the room, seemingly incapacitated, and Raph standing over him attempting to hold the menace off. Leo had since began to charge into combat with the droid, carving off bits of scrap metal wherever possible. And there you stood, lacking a weapon, but filled with passion to help your friends.

With little thought, you swiped Donnie's staff and back up before taking a running start and using it to vault yourself into the air. As predicted, you landed close to the monster, hanging from it's right arm. Leo's eyes widened as he watched you scale the thing as if you were climbing a tree. "What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted up at you, imagining all the ways you were going to fall off and hurt yourself. You ignored him, simply sitting at the back of the giant's neck, and doing anything you could to pull out as many parts and wires as you could.

While you did, the leader's attention shifted to the crevice that was opening with a fit of steam in it's chest, revealing a cyan glowing sphere. Donnie, now finished with the lock, turned to inform the team on his victory with guaranteeing their way out when he noticed the light, eyes wide. "Leo! That's the power cell, if you shut that off, the whole thing'll go down!" he shouted at his frozen brother, while patting himself with anything that he could throw, but turning up empty. Your ears perked hearing this. You had an idea.

"Throw one of your swords, Leo!" you called from the droid's head, dodging it's attempts to reach you. "Maybe if you throw it like a dart, you can hit the cell!"

Leo could feel his eye twitch with your interference. That's not how these tools were used and you should know that, but before he could protest, his younger brother piped up in agreeance. "Wait, that's actually not a bad idea. If you can throw it at precisely and 183 degree angle, it should be a direct hit, more than powerful enough to destroy the cell."

With reluctance, and a bit of distain for you and your ideals, Leo did as suggested, and just as predicted, the hit turned the tides of the battle in his favor.

-----

Back at the lair, after the fight had ended, and everyone's wounds were tended to, you, along with most everyone else were sitting in the living room relaxing and filling Mikey, Splinter, and April in on what had taken place. You were coated in honey glow listening to Raph regale the story, showering you, Leo, and Donnie with compliments- a rare occasion. "Oh, yeah you shoulda seen it, Mike. (Y/N) was sittin' on the back on that thing's neck just diggin' in, it was crazy!"

You modestly brushed it off as he began going into the details of Leo's finishing blow and you stood up to get a drink from the kitchen. You decided to treat yourself to some of Mikey's orange soda, pouring the off-brand liquid into a chipped glass, likely one of many that Splinter had salvaged from the trash.

"You shouldn't be drinking that, you're still in training, remember?" you jumped at Leo's stern voice, nearly dropping your drink before sighing.

"I think after the day we've had, I can cheat on my diet a little, right? Besides, you're all still in training and splinter lets you drink soda." you dismissed with a nervous laugh, hoping he'd drop the tough guy act. Sadly, he didn't.

"That's the problem with you."

"Excuse me?" you prodded, cocking an offended brow.

"You have no respect for us or our heritage or how we do things." he said flatly, crossing his arms and leering down at you, something he always did instill that he was superior.

"Heritage? Leo you're a fucking turtle. Being a ninja is separate from that. Anyone can be a ninja with the right amount of training, that's why Splinter chose to train me and April."

"You're not a ninja." he spat coldly turning to walk away. "You don't care about any of the principals that ninjutsu holds."

You felt tears prick your eyes. Why is he always so mean to you? It's so unfair, you do whatever you can think of to impress him, but he's always so disgusted with you. Sniffling you catch his arm to pull him back. "What is this really about?"

He freezes for a moment before relaxing his shoulders. "You don't do things the way they should be done, and yet you still get all the positive results. You use our tools like toys and still end up winning. It's disgraceful."

"Yeah well, my ideas kinda saved our asses today, so I guess your opinion doesn't really matter, now does it?" with that, you pushed passed him, making sure to shoulder check him on the way out of the kitchen, before sitting back down with your friends.

You pretended not to notice as he stared at you from the island, hunched over the countertop. He thought about how he treated you, usually much worse than he intended. It was hard to ignore how he was feeling, and he figured that maybe, blanketing it with hate might help. But if that's the case...why was the ache so much worse now?

Taglist:

@thelaundrybitch

#leonardo tmnt #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt #tmnt 2012 x reader #leo 2012

[mymultiverse00]

Mrs. Blum

My head is pounding. Over and over again, it’s drumming out a cadence in 4/4 time that I can feel behind my eyes, and in my ears, and all the way down to my stomach. I feel sick and hung over, but I have no idea Why I’m hungover. I don’t remember getting drunk last night. Actually, I don’t really remember anything from last night, but whatever I got up to has left me feeling sick as hell and I do not like it.

I pry my eyes open slowly and am momentarily blinded by a blazing hot sun shining in through a wall of very tall windows. Where the Hell am I? I wonder, taking a moment to try to focus on what’s going on outside, sitting up with a start when I finally start to recognize the landmarks. There’s an enormous fountain outside with dozens of people standing around it, and loud music playing in the distance. The Eiffel Tower stands across from that, looking very regal and pretty, but somehow not quite the right size. Eventually, my turtle slow brain clicks over. I’m in Las Vegas. Why the hell am I in Las Vegas? I really need some answers.

I look around the room a little and confirm that I am in a very large suite at the Bellagio Hotel, and judging by the overturned bottles and dirty glasses everywhere, I’ve been having a party. A tiny twinge between my thighs and complete lack of clothing tells me I’ve also been having sex, and likely quite a lot of it, but with who? That mystery is about to solve itself when the bathroom door suddenly flies open and a very naked and very aroused Roland Blum steps out.

“Roland! What the fuck are you doing here?” I shout, yanking sheets and blankets up over myself to hide my naked body.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/n!” He growls back. “Could you keep your screeching to a minimum this morning? I’m hungover as fuck and that’s not helping.”

“Sorry, you just surprised me is all, but what in the world is going on here? What are you doing in my hotel room and why the hell are we in Las Vegas?”

“Well, Mrs. Blum,” he began, swaggering over to join me on the bed. “First of all, it’s our hotel room. And second, it was your idea to come here in the first place, but I guess you chose to forget that.”

“My idea…? Wait. What did you just call me?”

“Mrs. Blum. Unless you want to keep your maiden name like some kind of bra burning feminist? We got married last night, kid.” He flashes his left hand at me, showing off a gold wedding band.

“What?!” I squeaked, scrambling to check my own ring finger and finding an enormous diamond resting there.

“Yeah. You came over to my place last night, crying about some shit that probably doesn’t matter and I offered to fuck you. You said the only way you would ever fuck me is if we got married so… there you go,” he concluded with his hands spread wide like some corny magician, giving me that self satisfied smile he always wears when he knows he’s won an argument.

“So you’re telling me, you drove us all the way to Vegas - to marry me - just so you could get some pussy?” I ask in disbelief.

“You’re damn right I did.”

“Huh.” I sit back against the headboard, taking in this new information and trying like hell to recall any of those events. “Was it any good?”

Roland gives me an offended look. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask me that, doll.”

“Well, I don’t know! I’ve never had sex with you before, not sober or as a married woman. I have nothing to compare it to.”

“Well then, let me tell you, wife,” he says lasciviously, slowly pulling down the sheets to expose my bare breasts to his eyes. “Married pussy is the best pussy. You wrapped your long legs around my head so goddamn tight last night, I thought I was going to pass out a couple of times! Then you did this thing to my ass…,” he shivers at the memory. “You’re a real freak, Y/n, and I gotta say, I like it!”

“And you’re ok with being married? To me?” I ask timidly.

“Fuck yes, Y/n. I’ve wanted to get inside your snatch for years! I got my trophy now, and I’m keeping it.” He leans over and kisses me roughly on the mouth. His beard tickles, but in the best way.

“So what do we do now?” I ask.

“Well, if you’re hungry, I can feed you my dick. If you’re not, I’ll eat your ass until you pass out. After that, who the fuck cares?”

I giggle. I’m beginning to come around to the idea of being married to this foul mouthed lawyer, and I’m thinking it might be helpful if I could remember having sex with my new husband, so I give in.

“Tell you what, husband. I’m going to order some room service from downstairs and then I’m going to eat it while I sit on your face.”

He growls in response, sliding in closer to me so his massive cock rubs against the side of my thigh. He starts sucking a bruise onto the side of my neck and pulling at my nipples.

“After we eat, if you’ve been a good boy, I’ll let you rail me against those big glass windows over there, for all the tourists to see.” His head pops up and he smiles widely.

“Goddamn it, Y/n. I fucking love being married to you.”

“Good. Now, I’ll sort out my breakfast, why don’t you sort out yours?”

“Yes, Mrs. Blum.”

The End

#roland blum #reader insert #Roland blum x reader #not beta'd #why did i write this #the good fight #michael sheen

[turtleblogatlast]

Okay so I only got into RotTMNT this July but I have so completely fallen into the pond with the rest of y'all, it's actually insane how much space these stupid turtles take up in my brain.

Anywhoodles.

You seem knowledgeable so I gotta ask something that's been gnawing on my brainstem for a while: where did so many of these fandom headcannons come from? Like, they're so wide spread and referenced that I catch myself assuming that they're ACTUALLY cannon sometimes. You'll fimd them in every fic, every piece of art, every fan comic.

The major one is the Disaster Twins. How'd they get that name, who started it?

Do we know where the "Leo is the team medic" headcannon came from? Because if I remember correctly, it's not mentioned anywhere in the show that Leo even has an interest in first-aid, or WHAT exactly he has in his little pouches.

And I don't dislike this or anything, I just wonder how on earth something so specific came out of apparently left-field? 🤔

Hello hello! Ahah I’m actually not all that knowledgeable about fandom stuff honestly! So I’m not sure where these particular headcanons started from but I believe Disaster Twins is mainly brought about because Donnie and Leo are the same age and pretty chaotic lol.

Personally I abide more by all the siblings being disasters, but I think because people like Donnie and Leo as a duo so much, they just gave them a fitting name ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

For medic Leo, I think the main thing there is because I believe when asked what was in his pouches, someone who worked on the show said they probably had medkits. For a show that was cut down in its prime, this fandom was pretty desperate for any extra info given haha. That plus previous incarnations of Leo being shown in a similar healing fashion probably helped the headcanon thrive, with the addition of it just being fun to bounce off of.

There’s probably more on both of these, but I’m not too sure myself! If anyone has anything to add or correct feel free to add on!👍

#non au ask #again I have no solid foundation for these assumptions #just what I personally gathered #others probably have a better idea #but imo even though it doesn’t have much foundation medic Leo has my heart #because it works SO well with his mystic abilities #ie him being a support main at his core

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 1

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we're defined by our job, it's those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

Alright, check it! Here we go, everybody!

The current rating of the fic is Teen and Up. I'm going to be going ham on a chapter by chapter rating/tagging basis because I don't want this baby to sit in Explicit until it is, if that makes sense. It will definitely become so in the future, but until then I'm going to rate it as is. Speaking of, when that switch does happen, please look for the notes before each chapter that will signal that. If you're reading on Ao3 you'll find more handy tagging notes.

Reader will be as gender neutral as possible until/unless otherwise stated. For my outline so far, this will involve sex and fem-coded activities such as make-up application and dress. I'll mark before each chapter if something is going to lean towards more of a fem!reader.

Otherwise, please enjoy! This is going to be a long ride so let's go!

Oh, please, not today.

Maneuvering around a corner, you doubled back to duck your boss. You could almost cry; not that you ever would over something so ridiculous at work. Looking back towards where you had just come, you felt the anxious sweat form on the back of your neck. This hallway only went in one direction and if your boss was already heading this way then surely he was about to run into you.

That was not something you could handle right now.

Clutching your bag tighter to your chest, you pushed off the wall to make a run for it when you heard a coworker call out.

“Oh! Perfect timing, sir. Do you have a second to look at something?”

You heard your boss stutter and your eyes went wide. Who was this prince that stepped in and saved your lunch hour? You wanted to bestow them with a thousand gifts, but you hadn’t heard enough of their voice to identify them. Shoving down the urge to peek, you listened until the two’s conversation slunk away. It meant the coast was clear and you speed walked your way down that now empty hall. In mere moments you were at the elevator landing and jammed the button with repeated anxiety. The display for which floor the accursed machine was on had been broken for about as long as you could remember. You glared at the black screen. It would only been busted on your level. Another tick to the record of your inefficient boss. You were so lost in your glaring that you scarcely heard two more co-workers walk up until the elevator chimed its arrival.

“Tell me something!”

Standing right in front of the silver doors, you surged forward as soon as they parted. There was an elderly suited man in the back and you tucked yourself right against the panel to hit ground floor.

“What’s up with these women wearing hot pants at the gym like it isn’t 45 degrees outside and then they get fucking mad when you look at them!?”  

Unable to hide the disgust on your face, you grimaced into the corner.

“I don’t know man…”

These two weren’t colleagues you considered often, but they had rapidly shot down to the bottom of your care’s list.

“Seems inappropriate!”

You soured further as you heard the old man chirp out a response. Three was far more than a crowd it seemed.

“What about you? You gotta have some idea, right?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

They were not trying to pull you into this bullshit.

Seriously, this was not the day.

You prepared a barbed response and turned to sick it on them when the elevator signaled a premature stop. You lifted your head and watched as a immaculately done up woman in a skin tight dress clicked her way into the elevator on daggered heels. She not only towered over you, but everyone else in the square. The tension was so palpable you imagined pricking it with a needle. You wondered if the woman could sense it considering she didn’t have the inane context. Either way, you worshipped her as the goddess she was for even unknowingly averting a confrontation for you.

When the elevator hit the bottom floor, you were the first to scurry off. You heard your two idiot co-workers start petty conversation with the woman and you marched straight to the many glass doors that granted exit to your high-rise. It wasn’t a breath of fresh air when it came to New York City, but it was certainly a reprieve. Still clutching your bag close, you strode down several sets of steps and onto a busy sidewalk. Hundreds of suits bustled and knocked shoulders with you as you settled into the traffic. It was a necessary evil that didn’t grate on your nerves any less. Parting the clouded thoughts as best you could, you looked forward into the ray of sunshine that sat on a lone sandwich shop. After several turns, that same storefront appeared tangible in the real world.

Your heart leapt at the sight. Somewhere in your bag you pictured your online pick-up order confirmation. You didn’t need it, but its receipt meant that no further fouls could come into play. Reaching for the handle, you watched through the glass as a gentleman did the same except his head was turned back to his companion within the shop. You reeled to dodge, but it was too late. The door flew open and clipped your shoulder as your failed to completely move away. You hissed into the sting and his sudden flurry of apologies took a bit of the edge off. You gave him a passing hands up gesture to pardon his transgression and he thankfully pivoted to hold the door for you. You heard a snippet of his companion berating him as the door returned to its stationary position.

Sighing, you fell into the shop’s embrace. The smell of freshly baked bread filled your nostrils and the thrum of patrons caressed your ears. You had eaten here a few times, with its proximity to your work, but this was the first time since they’d set up their online system. It meant you could skip the line and move right over to the pick-up counter. Straightening and finally letting your bag fall away from its defensive position, you headed to said post. There was no awaiting bag and you gave a little frown. This was exactly why you had your email at the ready. Reluctantly pulling up your bag, you rifled through it for your phone. Unlocking it, you watched in dismay as the email appeared only for the UI to refresh. Squashing a whine in your throat, you waited as the mobile data couldn’t seem to catch up with the page. Shifting a thumb to see if the shop had maybe set up free Wi-Fi along with ordering system, you heard an authoritative voice call out.

“Online pick-up! Club, hold the ham, roasted tomato, add oil!”

All the petty joy in your body surged straight to your head. That was your exact order.

Now this you needed.

You closed the gap between you and the counter with a near hop as the employee set down the bag. Your hand reached out as if an angel were serving penance and you watched in slow motion as another hand did the same. Confusion twisted on your features as you both clutched the paper in tandem. Your dopamine spike skittered to a halt, leaving you at a flattened emotional midpoint.

Not now.

It had finally gone right!

“Huh?!” The pitch was far deeper and had way more gravel than you ever remembered your voice having before. You nearly growled as your shoulders bunched up and you went into full on defense mode over your lunch. You turned your irritation on your would be sandwich thief and found yourself caught at the sight. Towering over you was clearly a mutant. You blinked out of your glare and stared openly. Instead of looking at you, the man instead gazed straight through you. You saw a bit of brow sat neutral against a wash of purple. He seemed encompassed in layers as a hint of green skin peeked out from between the purple and a black mask. It made the angular glasses perched upon them all the more apparent. There was a faint tint to them that you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. From there you skirted the edges of his black ball cap and down to his black wool coat. It framed the tight black turtleneck that clung to every crevice of his seemingly chiseled torso.

You came back to yourself all at once and found that barely a second had passed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s mine.” Thankfully your mouth still knew justice and held none of the awe that had passed through your brain.

Something about your curt response seemed to catch his attention and you watched in real time as his focus seemed to adjust to your form. With the mask you couldn’t be sure, but he seemed prepared to respond.

“Online pick…!”

You watched as the man turned away from you and to the confused employee who had choked on his announcement.

“Weird! This is… the exact same order?”

Reluctantly, you finally dragged your gaze away to the staff member. “What?”

“Some kind of glitch in the new system?” The employee posited, pulling the first bag away from both of your still outstretched hands.

In your periphery you saw the mutant move and pull out his phone.

“The order numbers and names are different…” The employee struggled and juggled both sacks.

“Simply a coincidence.”

Both you and the employee jolted at the mutant’s voice.

“I’d like my lunch now if you’re done manhandling it.”

The employee nodded dumbly and before placing both bags on the counter. He then made a scared show of pushing one in each of your directions. You caught your bags at the same time and you turned to see the mutant still scrolling his device with what you supposed was purpose.

“Some coincidence, huh?” You remarked, clutching your lunch.

The mutant gave a curt nod and you heard the employee retreat.

You were about to do the same when he seemed to find what he was looking for. In a flash of movement, his device fell in a slack arm and he leaned forward. You had no time to move away as he entered your personal space. You heart hitched as he reached out to your bag. Basal instinct told you to pull away, but curiosity kept you in place. You watched as a tridactyl hand passed the sack itself and moved to lift the receipt attached to it. From this distance you could finally see the color of his glasses; it was a barely there shading of blue in one and red in the other.

“You have my order.”

One of your brows descended while the other shot sky high. “So?”

You watched for the second time as his gaze seemed to struggle to focus on you like a malfunctioning camera lens.

“Just like the guy said: the orders are the same.”

You could only glean information from his eyes and they were set sternly to stoic. He bypassed responding and instead lifted his device. The screen was turned toward you and proudly displayed his own receipt.

So, that’s what had kept him.

“You had trouble with the internet too!”

In the first show of emotion you had seen, you watched one of his brows incrementally raise. A full centimeter seemed like quite the hurdle for him.

“I’m to assume you won’t give me my sandwich.”

He straightened and your heart sank the tiniest bit.

That was strange.

You knew nothing about this man other than he was apathetic and apparently a stickler for order numbers.

Still, he was the most interesting thing that had happened to you all day.

Hell, maybe even all year.

When was the last time you had gotten to interact with a someone in banal terms?

It didn’t have to be a long lunch to be fulfilling.

“How about…” You tilted your head to the side and did your best to peered into his eyes. “I give it back to you if you sit down and have lunch with me?”

His stare was completely flat.

“If… you have time that is?” You shoved the afterthought in quickly.

He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sandwich into the crook of his arm. You watched as he then placed his device into his pocket and pinched one of his lapels. You continued to wait with ever growing curiosity as he then swiveled his neck to look out over the dining room. You followed his gaze for a moment trying to spy exactly what he was looking at. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it and his head crawled back to you before he gave a little sigh.

“You have terrible taste.” He said simply and made a slight movement with his neck for you to follow.

“I literally ordered the exact same meal as you.” You bounced in line with him as he lead you both over to a table tucked into a windowed corner.

He waited for you to sit before he delicately took the one across from you. His posture was so perfect it was almost laughable as he set his order on the table. In contrast, you heaved yours down and struggled to take your bag off. When you’d finally slipped it to your side, you rose up to find him still holding his meal as if it were a valuable item in a criminal handoff.

“Not what you meant, got it.” You noted, grabbing your order in a similar manner to indulge him.

His head tipped down incrementally and you both made the switch. He seemed to examine the contents while you, in contrast, shoved your hand down the paper bag to retrieve your parchment wrapped sandwich. You wanted to gripe about how he had eyes on the meal from the employee until now, but he hadn’t spoken past insulting you.

Oh, yeah. You should probably be more upset about that.

Your stomach grumbled as you dismissed the thought to instead languish in his curious company. Instead of fully unwrapping your sandwich, you peeled back the wrapper to keep your hands clean before taking a big bite. As you chewed you watched as he made work of flawlessly folding his parchment until his own meal was fully exposed. He then procured napkins from his bag and set his shoulders to finally eat.

“At least you’re aware.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at that. He certainly liked to take his time to respond.

“Why this sandwich?” You took another hearty bite and relished the way the tomatoes burst with flavor.

“A club could be considered a base standard for a sandwich shop.”

You slowed your bites as he reached both his hands up. It was only then that you realized he’d have to remove his mask to eat. It seemed like a delicious cherry on top of your silly little scheme. You watched curiously as you noted that he had no ears for the straps to attach to. Instead you took notice of the poignantly sewed on buttons to his ball cap that were keeping the elastic in place. His head came down as he removed the mask and his green snout came into view. He then tucked the mask into his coat as if it were a pocket book and brought his hands back to his sandwich.

“Enjoying the show?” He kept his eyes down on his meal and seemed to be calculating the best way to tackle it.

“Yes, actually.” You hummed, swallowing your bite. You watched with tepid joy as your stark response caused him to flick his gaze at your momentarily.

He hadn’t needed to adjust that time.

“Do you have a mutant kink?”

What a return lob.

“No, it’s just been awhile since I’ve been able to have a civil conversation with someone.”

He finally picked up his sandwich and though you could see his mouth now, its tight line read the same as his eyes, giving nothing away. He seemed to digest your words as he brought his purchase up. You felt your hands squeeze a little too hard as his lips parted. Maybe it was your imagination, but it seemed to open a little wider than necessary and you got a good luck at the pricks of his canines as he bit down into the relenting bread. A tomato falling into your lap brought you back to your senses.

You cursed and switched to palm your sandwich with one hand to retrieve the red offender. A napkin slid across the table in your periphery and you grumbled out a thank you as you took it. Wiping your slacks and frowning at the oil that had already seeped in there, you huffed.

“Very convincing.”

It was almost impressive how much sarcasm he could inject into his flat tone.

You snapped your gaze to him and scooted closer to the table to prevent another spill. “It’s not an obsession! I mean you must know…”

He didn’t bother to look up and instead inspected the crescent carved out of his meal.

You gave him a few more moments, but it seemed apparent he wasn’t going to answer so you continued on. “What you look like.”

“And what is that?” Dropping his sandwich back to the folded parchment, he peeled back the top bread to examine the ingredients.

Though his question had appeared devoid of emotion, your cheeks flushed at the thought. You didn’t mind saying it as you had long grown past that kind of fearful shyness, but it still struck you how he was able to conjure up those sort of nervous butterflies when he didn’t seem particularly interested in you in the slightest. If that aloof attitude was why, then maybe it had been far longer that you’d previously thought since you’d had a decent conversation. You could consider the ramifications of it later. For now, it was a nice reprieve to be able to indulge in the sensation of a crush, even if it felt like the meeting would only last through lunch.

“You’re attractive.” You hid the little flip your stomach made by taking another bite.

You heard a little hum and chanced peeking at him through your lashes. He wasn’t looking at you, but his attention had finally been split away from his sandwich as he considered your statement. You continued to eat until, after a certain amount of time, he joined you. You smiled to yourself through a bite of turkey. He’d deemed it another non-response, but something about that was almost endearing. If he were anyone else you probably would be labeling him rude, but there was something about his aura that you found intoxicating in a mysterious way. His looks certainly helped, but you tried to see past the superficial.

No harm in being the reacher if only for a bit of fun.

“Earlier you mentioned something about a standard?”

There was a slight hitch as he brought his sandwich up to his lips. “That’s correct.”

“Are you like a food reviewer?”

You could have sworn you heard another hum, but this time the concurrent sounds of the shop made it impossible to be sure. You waited nonetheless and prepared a few other questions just in case this one also didn’t take.

“I’m looking for a new lunch spot.”

“Oh?” You gave him a once over and watched as he dabbed his face with a napkin.

“I’d been going to one shop for years, but despite my best efforts it closed down.” He passed you another look and your heart clenched at the sight of his eye line.

“You would be a creature of comfort.” Maybe another tease would bring his gaze back to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“Presumptuous.” He said in a manner that seemed for his ears only.

“Am I wrong?” You tilted your head curiously.

He retracted ever so slightly and it brought your elbows to the table as you leaned in. He stood strong against the move before finally, instead of only a flitting glance, he looked straight at you. If you hadn’t  already craned yourself to the table, you might have collapsed.

“It was meant as a negative. A note about how you venture to guess my habits based on so little data.”

This guy was something else. He suddenly reminded you of a computer. He was the embodiment of an analytic assault. If it wasn’t the way he picked apart his food and his talk creating a sandwich baseline, then it was how he seemed to be tallying up some sort of report on you.

Gosh, you just wanted to tease him.

“But am I wrong?”

If it were possible his level gaze became even more sardonic.

You couldn’t keep the widening smile off your cheeks.

He went back to his sandwich and you were starting to get a feel for when a subject had been dropped. Maybe a little data was just enough.

“I get it.” You dropped a new line in amity. “Everyone has a favorite place and it sucks when it closes.”

You didn’t get a sense that he was ignoring you this time, but rather had little to comment on the kindness you extended. It made you all the more curious.

“Why the club? Was it your favorite?”

One of his brows arched incrementally and the fact that you noticed surely meant you were just flat out staring at him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or if he did, his face continued to betray nothing.

“No.” The rounded shape his lips made around the word lingered past when it left his vocal cords.

You wondered which of the two questions he had answered or if he had tidied both up in one go. You could almost curse yourself for not spreading them out.

“Almost every shop has a club sandwich.”

You perked up slightly, putting together what he meant. He had answered the questions in reverse order. You wondered what about them had confused his processors.

“Then why modify it?” Remembering your own sandwich preferences brought attention to the fact your lunch was being sorely neglected. It was still in hand, but you still couldn’t touch it as you found him giving his first emotion of the day: the slightest downturn of his lips.

Who knew a frown could do so much for the chemicals in your brain?

“It’s frustrating that something so basic doesn’t have a clear consensus.”

“Wha-?”

“It isn’t supposed to have ham on it and yet an infuriating amount of establishments default to the product. Plus that isn’t even mentioning construction which can be slapdash at best and I’ve even been to a shop that had the audacity to put an egg into the stack!”

You blinked wide as you realized it wasn’t just a frown, but something akin to anger. The way he bit down on the end of the sentence and then shifted in an almost imperceptible way to recompose himself made your heart rate spike. What a hang up! Your mind went into a flurry. You wanted to ask if he disliked eggs in general or just on a club. You didn’t even know his name, but you wanted to know all about his culinary preferences. Imagination running wild with the list, you imagined making his favorite breakfast after a night of-

Infatuation was a hell of a drug.

You squashed any further excitement with a tepid and, hopefully, understanding smile. “And the tomato?”

The way his chin tipped up seemed to say something, but you weren’t sure what. He opted to fold his arms and you found yourself unconsciously leaning ever more forward as you awaited his response.

“The cooking process concentrates what little flavor industrially-grown tomatoes have.”

You nodded, this time genuinely knowing what he meant.  

“And the oil to add fat?”

His tightened grip on his arms laxed as he moved from looking at you to a full on survey. Feeling very seen, you dropped your gaze and picked at what was left of your sandwich.

“Yes, it also enhances mouth feel and can combat dryness.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up. Though his own tone could use a little of that seasoning, you swore you caught the tiniest note of appreciation for the catch.

It was also entirely possible you just willed it to be that way.

“Salt Fat Acid Heat…”

There was that hum again. This time you were sure you heard it.

You brought your gaze up to find his squarely on your face.

“Quite the read.” He gave a single approving nod and you could feel cupid’s arrow shoot straight through your heart. If nothing else this lunch would serve as an emotional meal for at least a week.

You really needed a new job.

“I’ll take that as you changed your mind about my tastes.” You gave a satisfied smirk and moved with the the intention of finishing your meal off.

“Absolutely not.” 

His instant reply halted your hands mid journey.

“But you just…?” You trailed off weakly.

“Something can be said about your gastronomic choices, but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

Did he mean earlier?

Was he talking about himself?

Your head tipped to one side curiously.

You watched him stare at you long enough to blink a single time before he returned to his sandwich. Remembering you had been trying to do the same, you followed suit. You were able to get through one more bite before another question chomped at the bit.

“How many shops have you evaluated so far?”

Under the guise of popping the final corner of your lunch into your mouth, you watched him through your lashes.

His cheeks paused in chewing before he swallowed. 

“This will be the 12th one.”

You gave a snort as you stole one his napkins to wipe your hands. He responded by reaching into your forgotten bag and replenishing his supply.

“You’ll just keep going until you find a suitable replacement?”

He gave a single nod and you balled up your dirty parchment. 

“How does this one rank? I’ve been here a few times before.”

He finished off his own sandwich and took to a careful process of folding his parchment further before depositing it into his bag.

“Mid, the turkey was nothing more than watery deli slices and the bread is particularly unremarkable.”

“Yeah, I can see that. The tomato was pretty good considering it’s out of season though.”

“Quite.” After thoroughly scrubbing his hands, he wiped any errant crumbs off the table and gathered up the trash into the bag as well. “You work nearby?”

You had been in the midst of following his table manners when you faltered and ripped your bag in the process of depositing a used napkin. Your lips parted and you almost wanted to ask him if you had heard him correctly. He had actually asked you a question.

“Yeah… How did you know?” You tried to salvage the bag as your mind ran rampant again.

Had he seen you before?

Were you really about to live out some kind of romantic comedy scenario?

“Why else would you chose the mediocre if not for proximity’s sake.”

Crushing your bag along with the ridiculous thoughts, you smiled at him a little too brightly. “You got me there.”

His chin tipped again, but this time it was down. You really wanted to map out all his little tendencies, but you’d need a notepad for that. You had the perfect one in your office, but that would mean heading out.

Your heart sank.

“My lunch break.”

The statement hung in the air as you left your trash abandoned in exchanged for your bag. Within a few flurried motions you pulled out your phone and stared in anguish as it awakened with the time.

“I am so late…!” Your voice waned and you looked to the mutant with desperation.

He seemed immune to your plight and moved to stand. Though you had long resigned yourself to satisfaction of the little time you’d gotten with him, the closing window didn’t sting any less. Squinting weakly at your trash, you dropped your phone into your bag and heaved yourself up. Gathering your things, you couldn’t help the surprise that passed over your features as you found him standing beside his pushed in chair and the mask back on his face, waiting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled off and he brushed by it as he headed for the door.

You followed him and waited your turn as he dumped his bag at the receptacle.  

You had so many questions once.

Where had they all gone?

You waited sullenly as he seemed to take an extra moment before he stepped aside and you hucked your garbage ball into the appropriate hole.

“And thank you for indulging me. Works been…” You trailed off with a grimace and a wave of your hand.

He reached for the door handle, but kept his even gaze on you.

“Let’s just say this long lunch is not going to help the matter!” You sighed and wondered if that angelic coworker could distract your boss with even more edits.

That would probably be asking too much.

“It’s just a shame I won’t be able to hear the rest of your reviews.” A bit of dry laughter found its way out of you.

Finding a grip on the door, he opened it and slipped out first.

You chased after him having a feeling he wouldn’t hold it.

“I’ll just be stuck eating the same old meh meal!” Twisting your bag into both hands, you prepared for the parting.

You found him staring down at you with that ever-present aloof nature.

You opened your mouth to say your goodbye when you saw his hand come up with a clean napkin.

You tensed and forced your awareness to your face in attempt to feel if something had been left dried up there.

“I’m going about my search in an orderly block by block manner.”

Twisting your neck, he pulled your attention with his sudden speech.

“I’ll be in this vicinity for the next few days. Your options might not be so limited.”

Finding nothing in his eyes, you let your gaze trail down to his hand. Between green fingers you saw the telltale scrawl of numbers.

Your heart skipped such a beat you thought you might go into cardiac arrest.

“Though I’m going to the next shop tomorrow, so do find a way to appease your superior.”

You watched in horror as both your hands came up to take the slip as if it were some precious artifact.

You wondered if he found it funny.

Or endearing.

Or maybe he already regretted his decision entirely.

“Don’t worry. Sometimes I think he keeps me on just to bitch at me.” He let go of the napkin and it came fully into your possession.

Even though it acted as a record, you tried to commit the writing to memory.

Donatello

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Curt and to the point.

Just like him.

“Also, I don’t care for idle banter. Only message me when completely necessary.”

“Sure.” Pulling the napkin close, you looked up to find him already moving away. You jolted at his retreating form before planting your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He surely heard your shout, but continued on unperturbed.       

NEXT

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #villain donnie #weakspotfic

[thebusytypewriter]

Hail the Lamb, Resilient and Eternal

Here it is, the starting point of the Tri-God AU timeline! Many thanks to Jonnie @jonquilandlace my beloved for helping me out :D

You can also find this on AO3 if that suits you better.

CW: blood, gore, major character death (not permanent)

“MEDICS!”

All hell broke loose at the cry, startling every creature within the grounds into action. The aforementioned medics scrambled from their idle activities to meet a wide-eyed rabbit at the camp entrance, where they kept their benevolent leader from collapsing by holding them upright as best as they could.

The Lamb of prophecy, who seemed indestructible to the common folk, stood half limp in their support. Crimson blood flowed down their face from somewhere atop their wooly head, dripping onto both an equally-red cloak and the vegetation below. One eye was bruised deeply to the point of being swollen shut, while the other stared at the ground, cloudy and unfocused.

Truely, it was a rare sight to behold for their flock, and many panicked animals dropped what they were doing to either assist or observe.

In the small hut of a kitchen remained one deer, silver in color, who watched the events unfold with worry. Kaliaphra wasn’t one to act in such situations, lest she be in the way of the people whose skills mattered there. That wasn’t to say she was unskilled, just that she’d never belonged to the area of healing.

Instead, she stared with horrified intrigue, a half-finished fish dish already forgotten on the counter behind her.

“My Lamb!” exclaimed the head medic, an elderly turtle by the name of Zelva. “My Lamb, what happened? Can you speak? Please, say something if you are conscious!”

Despite her distance, Kaliaphra could tell that The Lamb didn’t respond based on the increased numbers of furrowed brows. More hurried words were exchanged between Zelva and her students, and the largest among them took their leader into their arms to carry them toward the healing tent. The Lamb’s limbs dangled limply as they did so.

Whatever had happened in Anura, it wasn’t good.

“Kali, your tuna’s burning.”

She startled, whirling back around to pull her skillet off the fire. “Hells, Theo! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The brown buck that entered the kitchen—Theanno, her cousin who might as well have been her brother—simply smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least you’d be seeing Death. Aside from the, um, burning, how’s it coming in here?”

“Slow,” she sighed, pulling out a cloth to wrap the burnt fish. “I was already having a difficult time staying on task, and then The Lamb returned, and… did you get a better look at them? How bad is it?”

He leaned back against the countertop adjacent to her. “Couldn’t have seen more than you just now. That was… a lot of blood coming from them, though. I wonder if the healers can patch them up.”

“Well, even if they cannot, our leader will return to us shortly after, right? Death favors them. They bear his Crown.”

“Yeah, but…”

Kaliaphra turned sharply toward her cousin with wide eyes. “‘But’? Theo, you cannot question the nature of the Lamb.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m just worried. We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them? Do we just… go back to where we were before?”

“We should not be thinking about this.”

“It’s a real problem, Kali! We couldn’t stay here; the Bishops—”

With a loud metallic thunk, Kaliaphra slammed the still-warm skillet on the counter next to him. She stared up at Theanno there, at his stunned expression, and hissed, “The Bishops, of two there are remaining, cannot touch this place. I am not worried about it, and you should not be, either. Imagine if an elder heard you; they would think that you are dissenting.”

Calmly, solemnly, Theo raised one hand and extended a finger to lightly boop her on the nose. “I’m not dissenting. We’re under the Lamb’s protection, I know. I’m just… thinking out loud. I’ve gotta get back to the crops. You should see if the healers need lunch. That way, you can keep an eye on our Lamb.”

The tonal shift of their conversation threw Kali off-balance. “What—you—”

“Okayloveyoubyeeee!” In a torrent of a wave and a head pat, Theanno slipped back out of the hut, leaving her alone again.

He throws existential dread on me then leaves, she grumbled to herself. Now I have to check in on the Lamb.

She grabbed a few covered bowls from the storage crate—only berries would be properly stored there—and layered them on a tray, careful to balance each even as she lifted the tray. It wasn’t an unpracticed movement, given how she’d taken to serving dinner to her family before, well, being separated from them. If anything, it was comfortingly familiar.

Kaliaphra slipped out of the kitchen hut and crossed the grounds toward the infirmary tent. Many of her fellow cultists were still floating around the entrance, their tasks remaining unfinished in their hands, but they didn’t seem to care. They stared at the infirmary in deep concern and only scattered when she gently told them to shoo.

With a deep breath, she prepared to announce her entrance, but a scream cut her off.

She shouldered her way inside to assist and was met with a rather… frightening scene.

The circle of healers had taken a large step back from the cot, each raising their hands in some semblance of placation. Upon the cot, most worryingly, squatted the Lamb. Their eyes were wide with fear, and they had somehow managed to grab hold of a small and pointy stick.

“Get back!” the Lamb shrieked, waving their acquired stick like a dagger. (Instinct, perhaps?) “I won’t go with you, do you understand? I refuse to be sacrificed just because of some… some dumb prophecy!”

Confounded murmurs filled the space.

“Prophecy?”

“Sacrifice?”

“Have they forgotten the years of this establishment?”

“My Lamb,” Zelva said, playing up her comforting tone, “we are not here to bring you to the Bishops. You escaped from them, and you have unified us all here under the Red Crown. Do you… not remember?”

They stared up at her with the most dumbfounded expression Kali had ever seen on them. “I don’t know what in the hells you’re talking about. I was… on my way to scavenge when a group of robed individuals—” The Lamb glanced suspiciously about the tent, which contained several people fitting that description— “bounded me in chains to take me away to the Bishops. I don’t follow the Red Crown; I don’t follow anyone!”

There was something of a faint collective gasp among the group (which made sense, since the Lamb was essentially speaking heresy without realizing it).

“Zelva,” Kali murmured, setting her tray of berry bowls on a table, “what… happened to them?”

The old turtle sighed and dragged a hand down her face. “From what I could see before they began threatening us with a stick, there are signs of severe head trauma possibly originating from their most recent trip through Anura. They most certainly defeated the Bishop Heket, but I imagine something hit them before they made their escape.”

“Meaning…?”

“Amnesia. At least partially. They appear to have forgotten events after their execution, including the founding of this camp.”

“And the Red Crown?”

“At the moment, Filip is placing the Crown within the Temple.”

“The sermons?”

“Canceled until further notice.”

“The Bishops?”

“Will never know.”

“But—”

“Kaliaphra.” Zelva grabbed her by the shoulders. “We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us. Please, remain diligent in your duties, and if anyone asks, the Lamb is injured and recovering.”

Kali looked between her and their now-sedated leader, who appeared as a small lamb for once instead of the grand holy being the cult knew them to be.

Or thought them to be.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “If you or anyone here needs anything, let me know. Or let Theanno know.”

Zelva visibly relaxed, a tired smile finding its way onto her face. “Of course. Thank you, dear. We will get through this together, under Death’s grace.”

“Yes, ma’am. Praise the Lamb.”

Sleep was difficult to wrangle that night, and the next, and the next.

Kaliaphra stared at the roof of her tent as she silently begged to fall into the sweet abyss, but her thoughts granted her no such relief. She was too busy thinking about the events of the previous days, about Theanno’s words and Zelva’s worry and the Lamb’s evident amnesia.

“We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them?”

“We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us.”

Granted, it had hardly been half a week since the Lamb returned, but with how fast word spread about the camp, Kali was certain that all of the Lamb’s followers would know soon. If doubt grew among them, flowering into dissent, it would only be a matter of time before someone left and crawled back to the Bishops.

The Lamb was not improving.

Someone had to do something.

They needed help of divine levels, and she wondered, if nothing else, whether the Lamb’s sacred Red Crown would have some form of solution, even a temporary one. She’d seen its power in action before, when the Lamb took command over their fields during the Heket-inflicted famine. Surely it had something, like a barrier to put up around the grounds.

The only question was whether someone had to wear the Crown—or maybe even be skilled with it—for it to do something. Only one way to find out, she supposed.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up from her bedroll and cautiously poked her head outside, letting the tent flaps continue to obscure her some. She appeared to be lucky in that all lanterns around the residential area of the camp were out, save for the infirmary, which was still a large enough distance away that it wasn’t a threat.

She went through a mental checklist of members, trying to discern who did and didn’t have one of those moon pendants the Lamb had offered. The only one that came to mind was a medic, who was no doubt in the infirmary.

Assuming no one was guarding the Crown—and why would they, when anyone in the cult hardly separated it from its bearer in terms of fear and respect—she had a straight shot.

As swiftly as possible, Kali made a sprint for the temple. She dared not go slower, even if it meant a lesser likelihood of stepping on something loud, since it would be way more likely for someone to wake up for a snack or to use the outhouse. All she had to do was slip in through the semi-ajar door (which she mentally thanked Filip for, even if it was unintentional) and close it behind herself, which went off without a hitch.

A dim temple greeted her, the only light coming from the ever-lit candles on either side of the lectern. It was just enough to provide some visibility, even if both Kali and Theanno had great night vision to begin with, but more specifically on the Red Crown sitting upon the altar.

It was odd, seeing the Crown not on the Lamb’s head. While the Lamb, in their state, seemed much smaller than usual, the Crown without the Lamb felt larger than it should. More imposing, even. Its singular red eye remained wide open, and though its glow had dimmed significantly, she had the feeling it was anything but dormant as it stared through her.

She almost wanted to tell it to blink.

Nevertheless, Kali swallowed her unease and strode forward down the aisle just as she had been for something close to twenty years, which might as well have been two years with the enchanted pendants the Lamb had gifted her and Theo. It came second nature; little light needed to guide her.

Though she had never been afraid of the dark, her fur stood on end as she noticed the feeling of being watched. By the Crown? Perhaps, but… not quite.

With a bowed head, she stepped up to the altar. Her heart raced with the panic of I should not be here, I should not be the one standing at the altar, but she tried her best to shove it down. What she was doing was important and could possibly save the cult from being wiped out.

Kaliaphra lowered herself to kneel in front of the altar, bending until she was just under eye-level with the Red Crown and folding her hands neatly upon her lap. “I am… unsure if I should be addressing Death here, as I am simply looking at the Crown without its bearer, so I will plead with both god and tool.”

If the Crown could look expectant, it did.

“I fear for the safety of these people,” she began, letting her eyes fall shut. “I have only ever been afraid like this when the Lamb brought me here for the first time. I doubted then. Over time, I have grown to trust them with my life. But they have fallen. Not in death, but I am afraid this is worse. If it were death, The One Who Waits would surely revive them. Instead, they cannot be helped outside of medical attention, and even that is a waiting game.

“If the Bishops find this place, all will be executed for heresy. What shall be done? I would sacrifice anything to make this right. I would give my own life. What is my life in comparison to the many other lives being lived here? It is but a speck of dust.” Kali paused for a moment, cracking one eye open to check if the Crown was still paying attention. (What a silly thought, she mused. The Red Crown is not sentient.)

Its singular red eye stared back at her, unblinking and unmoving.

Somehow, that was more discouraging.

She sighed. “We were taught that The One Who Waits does not answer prayer directly. He speaks through his vessel in miracles, but they are the one to hear our pleas. What is left when the vessel forgets that they are a vessel? What is left when a fawn who loves her family has to leave them behind? Theanno… he is all I have of them here. I promised him that he would be safe in this place, under the Lamb.”

A growing desperation bubbled in her chest with each passing thought, and Kaliaphra found herself crawling forward to grasp the altar and stare into the Crown’s eye directly as her vision blurred. “Please, do you not understand how hopeless this is? I do not ask for much if you do not wish to give it, but the situation must be remedied! Tell me what I have to do! Help me!”

The plea rang out through the temple, bouncing off the walls again and again until it faded.

The Red Crown did nothing.

Bitterly, she had the passing thought that a no would’ve hurt less than this.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up to stand over the Crown upon the altar, wiping the few stray tears that had fallen. “…Foolish. I do not know why I thought Death would listen to one little follower, anyway. It was worth a—”

In a flash, a literal flash of red, the sacred artifact shifted forms.

No longer did she see the Red Crown as a crown, or at least not a full crown; the pointed tips of its top stretched and wrapped around and around each other to a point, leaving it in a vague lance shape in the span of milliseconds.

That is, she was only somewhat sure it came to a point. The end of the Crown was out of her view, even as she followed it from the altar closer to her and—

Through her chest.

Through her heart.

Out her back.

That was when she registered two things a second too late. One, the deafening squelch and crack of flesh and bone being driven through by, well, Crown. Two, the burning pain that felt more like a stream of red hot fire than a blade.

Kaliaphra screamed, agony tearing through her throat.

There was a fleeting thought that she just woke up the entire camp, but it was drowned by growing panic accompanied by the taste of iron in her mouth. Her throat was closing, but was it due to the blood, or was she in shock? Shit, she didn’t know enough about medicine to tell.

What she did know was that she was going to die.

She had asked to help her be rid of the situation.

Was this a sick joke?

Was it mercy?

To be put out of her misery?

Her hooves scraped weakly at the floor beneath her, the Crown’s sharp blade holding her just aloft with surprising strength—as if she weighed nothing to it. As she struggled to catch her breath, choking on it instead, a strangled bleat pulled itself from her in some desperate attempt to call for Theanno.

The Red Crown retracted then, its lance shape ripping from her chest and dropping her onto the wooden floor. Kaliaphra’s vision was flickering then, and a horrific numbness began to settle in. The floor grew wet beneath her, and she felt it pooling around her fingertips and ear as she lay discarded on her side.

What… did I do wrong?

A distant muffled bleat was the last thing she heard.

Then there was nothing.

When her eyes opened, Kaliaphra was blinded with white.

Given how dark the temple had just been, the change of brightness was undesirable. The sky above her was far too bright, and the ground beneath her was far too soft. Fluffy, almost.

Odd.

She turned her head to get a better look and was greeted not with a wooden floor, but with what appeared to be… clouds.

A discomfort upon her chest suddenly became apparent to her, both crushing and sharp, two different sensations. Images flashed through her memory. The eye, the blade, the blood.

The weighted sensation, she realized, was likely her stopped heart.

Kali moved to sit up, knocking something sitting on her chest onto her lap instead. When she looked down, she was greeted with the unblinking stare of the Red Crown.

“You,” she murmured, afraid of her voice carrying through the expanse. “What… did you do?”

There was no response, which had to be the most normal thing in the situation. It was still enough that one wouldn’t have known how it morphed to stab her only moments ago.

Kaliaphra huffed through her nose with growing annoyance. “Some help you are. Perhaps if I simply stay here and do not move, do not interact with anything, I will wake up from this nightmare. The Lamb will be fine, everyone will be safe, and everything will be as it should.”

“I know you’re there.”

A deep, rumbling voice reverberated around her, startling her and sending some of the clouds scattering. Kali looked up from her lap to fully survey her surroundings, and she took notice of a distant but massive figure bound in chains among the clouds. The image was familiar, one that the Lamb had explained vaguely to their flock from their times of indoctrination. Death had an incredibly recognizable appearance, all things considered.

She swallowed hard, a pit opening in her stomach.

The distance and the veil made it impossible for her to see his face, but she somehow knew that The One Who Waits was looking directly at her. “Come closer, little fawn,” the tall cat bishop purred. “In death, you will be of use to me.”

Kali looked back down at the Crown.

It looked back at her, and she’d almost expected it to give a meaningful glance toward said bishop. A go on gesture, in a sense. But it gave no such answer.

Once again, incredibly helpful.

She lifted the Crown from its place on her lap and pushed herself up, instinctively brushing off her tunic as if rising from the dirt instead. (It was silly, she acknowledged, but at least it could give her the appearance of being put together.)

Kaliaphra strode forward on shaking legs through the parting clouds. If she was to meet her god, she needed to be calm and collected, but her tight grip on the Crown did nothing to help.

As she grew closer, she noticed the two smaller cats kneeling on either side of the god. Their fur was a deep gray—not quite black—and their matching pairs of crimson eyes remained solely on her as she approached. The one on Death’s right donned black and red robes, while the one on his left had white robes. Both wore veils like their master, though theirs were slightly more transparent, hence why she could meet their intense stares.

She felt more like an intruder within their space. Her gaze snapped once again to the being in the middle, though she dared not look him in the eye, instead settling for the clouds at his feet.

The sound of her footsteps changed from soft pompfs of air to hooves on stone as she stepped onto a small circular platform painted with a pentagram, and she figured that was a good place to pause. Kali dipped low into a curtsey, one she had perfected during her time under the Bishop Shamura, but said nothing. The common rule within the Silk Cradle was do not speak unless spoken to.

Given how she was standing before Death, she didn’t feel like testing the limits with other gods.

“Polite little thing,” said The One Who Waits, finally. “What a refreshing change of pace. Stand, little fawn, and let me see you.”

Without a second thought, she complied, raising her gaze enough to find the bottom edge of his veil.

“How peculiar that you would enter my domain with my Crown in your hands. I entrusted that Crown to The Lamb. How is it, then, that you hold it, mere follower?”

Despite having little-to-no control over that exact situation, Kali stuttered, “I mean no disrespect by it, my lord! The Lamb is—”

He held up one skeletal hand to stop her. “I am well aware of what has befallen my vessel. It is… inconvenient, to say the least. Since The Lamb is neither dead nor dying, I can do nothing to assist. Truly a setback.” Jagged teeth became more visible as the corners of his mouth curled upward. “But no matter. You worry for the safety of your flock, do you not? That is why you volunteered your life.”

Kaliaphra bit her lip anxiously for a moment. She did offer her life to the Crown in panic, didn’t she? While she certainly didn’t expect to stand before The One Who Waits in order to fulfill that statement, there really were only so many ways such an offer would come to fruition. “What… What would you have me do, my lord? I am just a deserter who can only somewhat mince fish and cauliflower.”

“Ah… but you can brandish a knife, then?” The God of Death inclined his head in what she faintly recognized to be a patronizing manner. “While you may not believe it, that is more than The Lamb could say when they first appeared before me. Rejoice in your abilities, for they will save your hide in battle.”

“B-Battle, my lord?”

She swore she saw the cat at his right snicker from her question.

“Battle,” he repeated. “Despite the façade you put on, I know you are familiar with it. I have seen you cut down many an enemy during your time as a soldier trainee.”

Ah, damn it. “Oh, I, uh—“

“And yet you lie to my face.” The ever-present grin dropped abruptly. “Fear lingers in you despite your experience, Kaliaphra. I will be merciful just this once.”

Kali’s breath hitched as terror took its choking hold on her. He knew her name. He knew her by name. “Forgive me, please! I would have been upfront about it, but… it has been some time since I fought last.”

The One Who Waits waved a hand. “It has become instinct for you, nonetheless, one that you will utilize while you bear the Crown.”

It was like ice had been dumped over her. She dared to meet his gaze, finally. “…My lord?”

“A temporary vessel,” he clarified, his wide smile of sharp teeth returning. “You shall take on the duties of the Lamb until they can return once more. Tend to the flock. Venture forth on crusades. Spread faith and influence. Slay my traitorous siblings. That is for which you have volunteered your life.”

She stared up at him, up at the gleeful unblinking trio of red eyes behind a veil, and found no trace of humor. No ounce of empathy. The One Who Waits was placing her in the position of leader against her will. If she should decline…

One clawed hand, belonging to the white-robed cat in white on Death’s left, twitched as if he’d heard her thought.

Ah. She couldn’t.

To decline meant death. No doubt it would be an insult to the bishop himself. She had no other option.

“It will not be for an eternity,” The One Who Waits purred, “that much I can swear with the assumption that my vessel recovers. Should they not, your position will become a permanent one. Do we have an understanding, fawn?”

As much as she wanted to do otherwise, Kaliaphra lowered herself back into a deep curtsy. “Y…Yes, my lord. I will do everything in my power to serve you.”

“Good. Do not disappoint me. Unlike the Lamb, you are incredibly replaceable.”

The pentagram lit up beneath her feet, and her soul left the Below with a new weighing dread upon it.

Kaliaphra propped herself up with one arm and promptly vomited onto the floor next to the altar.

Her chest ached, not with the pain of the fatal wound but with anxiety and horror. She was faintly aware that she had, in fact, returned to the living world, but she was waiting for the pounding of her heart to cease before fully taking stock.

Was she dreaming? Surely, she had been dreaming. In her panic to do something about the Lamb’s situation, she had run into the temple and… hit her head. Passed out. That was the only logical option. Or, better yet, all of that was a dream, too; she’d eaten some wild mushrooms by mistake and had a wild dream as a result.

…Why did her head feel so heavy?

Something, some form of light, reflected off of the polished quartz altar, startling Kali. As she turned her head back to further investigate, the colored light reflected again—red. Once she sat still, the steady red glow remained… just above her head, if the silhouette was anything to go by. Was that…

She raised one hand up to grab it, but the crash of the temple doors startled her into dropping her hand and pushing herself onto her feet.

“Kaliaphra,” came the clipped voice of Zelva as she led what looked like the entire cult into the room. “What on earth is—Are you wearing the Red Crown?”

Her eyes ran over the assembling crowd, already trying to think of a way out of facing them yet. Was there one, though? Was it right to wait, if this was in fact really happening? Was there even a way for her to answer without looking like a fool? “Y…Yes, I am.”

The old turtle scoffed incredulously. “Stars above, no one should be touching it but the Lamb. And—is that… blood? Vomit? Child, are you drunk?”

“No!” she snapped back, the weight of the eyes on her immensely present. “I am not drunk. I… I have…” 

But she trailed off, uncertain how exactly to explain the situation. Kali’s eyes skimmed the assembled followers, searching desperately for reassurance, for familiarity, for her cousin’s eyes among colleagues, friends, acquaintances, accusers. 

In the doorway, familiar horns just barely fit in the doorway. 

She held her breath, a long moment, then began again. “I have spoken to The One Who Waits. It appears that he has placed me in the Lamb’s position until they recover. And I know that sounds insane, but…” She looked down at herself, reaching up to run her fingers over the tender flesh where her impalement wound had been. The skin there was still agitated and raw, like a fresh scar had just formed. “I died, I believe. That was the commotion you heard. If you will just—”

“A’right,” huffed Chifre, the rhinoceros in charge of behavior enforcement, as he stepped through the crowd toward her. “Take the Crown off, c’mon.”

Anxiety flipped to annoyance in just a moment, and she straightened her spine stubbornly. “I cannot. I now have a duty to uphold, it seems.”

“No, you don’t. Take it off, or I’ll take it myself. Playtime’s over, kid.”

“I am not a child!”

Her voice boomed through the space, and she would’ve taken notice of how it split apart if it weren’t for the flash of bright red, almost like lightning, that illuminated it all. The light seemed to startle the crowd more than her, as they all scrambled back several feet from the altar, eyes blown wide.

They… weren’t looking at her.

Kaliaphra turned, slowly, and looked up to the front wall of the temple.

Over the wood and stained glass, there resided a massive shadow, one of distinct silhouette, stretching across the pulpit floor to the wall and traveling up to touch the ceiling. The body, with its tall feline ears and glowing trio of eyes, was incredibly familiar to Kali herself. Its limbs, clearly defined as skeletal and crude, extended over the walls and arched across the temple floor. There, the claws of bone hovered around the place where the deer stood, as if claiming her—his plaything, perhaps.

Separate from the shadow, Kaliaphra was graced with the whisper of feeling bone brush her cheek. It was a distant mockery of sentiment, but it made her heart leap into her throat all the same.

“Stand tall, my vessel,” the voice of The One Who Waits purred into her ear. “They will learn to fear you in time.”

Then, with another flash of red light, it was all gone. Kali and the others were left standing in an empty temple, shellshocked at what had just occurred.

They stared at her, no longer annoyed, but hesitant. As if they didn’t know what to do.

Across the crowd, Kaliaphra’s gaze finally found her cousin’s, meeting eyes wide in something between awe and terror. He ran his gaze over her form, inspecting her, she thought, hesitating on the blood stain on her shirt, then the glowing crown, and then back to meet her eyes in turn, looking for something, the same safety they’d promised one another for years.

Then, finding it, whatever he was looking for, his expression calmed, pride replacing the fear as a grin stretched over his cheeks. He bent his knee, head still raised, unwilling to break her gaze, yet folding over nevertheless.

A bow, she realized. He is bowing. To… to me?

“My Fawn,” Theanno called.

The followers nearest to him looked back, murmurs rippling through them, noises and expressions flickering wildly between surprise and… uncertainty, perhaps, before looking back to the crown that now rested on her brow. 

Then, with the same subtle confidence, one follower after another bent at the knee, their gazes turning to the ground. 

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn!”

#Tri-God AU #cult of the lamb #salem's works #oc: kaliaphra #oc: theanno #<- he's jonnie's btw #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl #cotl follower oc #follower oc #cotl the one who waits #cotl toww #cult of the lamb au #cotl au #dear lord there are so many variations of the same tags #cw blood #cw gore #cw major character death #stares into the camera. why didn't i just call this the lambnesia au