#*sigh* no the colouring didn't work out this is all i got to offer

[shiningbean]

three of swords (heartbreak, sorrow, grief)

plus the lines because i still prefer the clean look of it

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Go Home - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 2667>

What. A. Fucking. Day. 

You were running around the Ferrari hospitality, with practically no energy after being up all night. The fact that you had even made it into work was an absolute miracle, but you thought that doing something with yourself might help you take your mind off of how you were feeling. 

It was safe to say that it didn't. If anything, it just made it worse. Your body felt more fatigued the more you moved, and plenty of people had noticed. They all asked if you were feeling OK, and you always responded with a meek 'yeah, yeah, just feeling a little under the weather.'

One of the many people to notice this was Charles. He had seen that you weren't your usual, perky self, and that concerned him slightly. After seeing you around for a few hours, not getting noticeably better, Charles took it upon himself to approach you. 

You had just walked out of Fred's office after delivering some papers, and he was stood in the corridor, seemingly waiting to go in. "Hey Charles," you greeted, sending him a small yet weak smile. You didn't want him to be the next person to ask how you were feeling, but you could sense it coming anyway.

"Hey, you OK? You're not looking too good..." he sheepishly said, not wanting to upset you, but still wanting to show that he cared about your current condition. 

"Oh thanks, Charles," you rolled your eyes, walking away from him. Instantly, you felt bad that you had reacted like that, knowing he was just trying to be nice and knowing that your attitude was uncalled for.

But, you really weren't feeling like making kind smalltalk with someone. You weren't in any mood to turn around and apologise either, so you just figured you would say sorry to him when you were feeling better. 

Shortly after, you heard footsteps behind you in the corridor. Charles knew you didn't mean it and it was just because you were feeling shitty, so he didn't take it to heart. If anything, it made him even more worried for you and whether you should actually be at work or not. 

"Y/N, hey, no, wait," he called after you, speeding up so he could catch up to you. "You really don't look too good, are you sure you don't need anything? I've got some extra time if you want some help with some stuff." he said, hoping that you'd allow him to take some of the load off of you so that you could relax for a bit. 

"No, no," you declined, thinking that he had something better to be doing with his time. He was just as busy as you were, if not more. Plus, you didn't want to give him whatever it was you had just in case it would hinder his racing ability. 

"Are you sure? I really don't mind, it'd be-" he started, but you cut him off with a sigh. 

"Charles, I've got it, OK? I do appreciate the offer, really, but you're just as busy as I am." you interjected, turning around and walking off from him again. Charles huffed to himself, unsure of what to do. 

He was certain that you running around and working yourself to the bone wasn't what was going to help your illness, but he also knew that you were stubborn as a mule and it'd take a hell of a lot of convincing to get you to change your mind.

For the time being, he resigned himself to the fact that you were going to carry on working. He'd keep an eye on you for the rest of the day, and if you got any worse, he would simply have to force you to go home. 

An hour or so later, Charles spotted you in the cafeteria, pushing your food around your plate with your fork. His heart dropped slightly as he saw your face. You had paled in colour, your nose and cheeks contrasting against your skin as they were as red as your polo that you had on. 

He leant against the wall with his arms crossed for a short while, his eyes glued on you. Your shoulders were hunched, one of your arms wrapped around your stomach. He spotted the subconscious, self-soothing gesture, and his hard expression softened. 

You really didn't look good, not at all. Definitely not good enough to be staying at work and slaving away for the rest of the day. Slowly, Charles stepped towards your table, the other people around knowing that it'd take a miracle to convince you to chill it out. 

"Hey, can I sit?" he quietly said, gesturing to one of the chairs at your otherwise empty table. You craned your neck to look up at him, leaning back and taking your arm away from your stomach. 

"Yeah, course," you nodded, watching as he pulled out the chair next to you and sat down on it. With one elbow on the table, Charles rested his chin on his hand. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, the question obviously leading. It was with an expectant answer, an answer consisting of you telling him how horrendous you felt and how you needed to go home. 

However, you replied with a simple, "I'm fine." Charles groaned, running a hand through his chocolate locks. 

"You're not fine, OK? Look at you, you look dead on your feet," he said, frustration seeping through his words. He never understood why you were always so stubborn, especially when it came to your own wellbeing. 

Going home was clearly the best option for you and your health, but you refused to just give up your pride and perfect work-attendance record and go home. "I'm just feeling a bit rough, it's nothing serious," you tried to reassure him, knowing he wasn't going to back down on the matter easily. 

"Nothing serious? You're pale as a ghost, you clearly have 0 energy, and it is just obvious that you feel absolutely awful!" he snapped, unable to keep his temper in check. He wasn't snapping out of anger, and you knew that. 

He was snapping out of pure consideration for you and comfort. Deep down, he knew that you were hurting and in no condition to be there, but that didn't stop his temperament from clocking out for a moment. 

He saw the dejected look on your face, the softness creeping back into his features. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Getting mad at you wouldn't make you listen to him, he knew that, but he still wanted to try and convince you.

"Please, just go back to the hotel. I'm worried about you, you know?" Charles said, hoping that by revealing his feelings, it might incline you to listen to him. "I'll make sure all of your work is done, I promise. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"But I've got so much to do, and I don't want to force someone else to work that I can-" 

"No, don't tell me you can do it. You can't do it. And I won't let you," Charles cut you off, squeezing your hand. "I'll take you back, make sure you're comfy, and I will have it all taken care of." he repeated.

For once, you were actually considering doing what he said. Your body was crying out for you just to retire to your bed for the remainder of the day and just rest. Sleep off the sickness and come back to work your usual self. 

There was the problem of your work, but you truly did trust that Charles would have it taken care of. He wasn't the kind of guy to make promises that he couldn't keep, and he would make sure your work got done on time and as it was supposed to be done. 

He took your silence as a yes, since you'd usually give him attitude if you were refusing his requests. He hated seeing you like this: tired, sick and downright dejected. A small part of him was screaming at him to just wrap you up in his arms and take care of you until you were back to your usual self.

In some ways, you being like this hurt him too. He didn't like it when you pushed yourself this far and risked your own health and wellbeing just for the sake of a job. Yes, he did admire it, but his dislike for it heavily out-weighed his recognition of the trait. 

"When was the last time you ate something? And don't bother lying to me," he sternly asked, and you knew it wasn't time to try and fool him with a clearly false answer.

"Yesterday. Well, more specifically, last night." you quietly told him, his eyes searching your face for any hint of deception. Yet, he found nothing but sincerity, and the pointed look in his eyes mellowed out once again. 

"And what did you have?"

"Just some soup and crackers from room service," you told him, and the sigh he let out was audible and slightly disappointed. 

"Jesus Christ... you're running on fumes," he mumbled, "How much did you sleep last night?" Charles asked, even though he could tell it wasn't much from your sluggish posture and dark under eye circles. 

"I can't tell you how much exactly but it wasn't much at all," you told him, now actually looking forward to going to bed for the rest of the day. 

"Come on, we're going. I will sort everything," he reassured, standing from his seat and offering a hand out to you. You took his hand, letting him help you up. Charles felt a small pang of satisfaction ripple through him when you allowed him to assist you. 

Silently, he led you out of the paddock and to the parking lot, where he navigated you over to his car and sat you down in it. You were slightly worried about getting fired for just randomly leaving, but if Charles asked Fred, pretty much anything was possible. 

The car ride was wordless while he manoeuvred through the streets, until he pulled up in a spare parking space near the hotel. Charles helped you out of the car and all the way up to your room. 

Now that he was close up to you, he saw how gaunt your expression was. He really didn't want to just leave you here to fend for yourself, since he didn't think you had the strength or energy to do so properly. 

"Can I come in with you?" he asked once you had reached the door to your room. You nodded, unlocking the door and gesturing him inside. To say that you had been in such a state, the room was in fairly good order. 

You hadn't made the bed, which was understandable given how bad your morning must have been, but the rest of the room was relatively clean. "You sit, I'll get you something to change into," he told you, walking up to the wardrobe. 

Opening it, it was mostly just your teamwear since you were only there for work and wouldn't have the time for much tourism. Rifling through your clothes, he found a soft pair of shorts and one of your Ferrari hoodies that he thought looked comfy enough. 

Turning around, he saw you already shuffled under the covers and sinking into the pillows. "You comfy?" he smiled, the sight of you lead there making his heart beat a little quicker. He really didn't want to leave you here - he wanted to stay by your side where he could make sure you were OK.

"Arms up," he softly said, helping you to sit up. "Can I?" he requested, asking for your permission as his hands hovered over the buttons of your polo. You nodded, and he quickly unbuttoned them and pulled the shirt off over your head.

If he wasn't focused on how sick you were, he would be practically salivating at how stunning you were, but now wasn't the time for that, and he understood. You were vulnerable, and he would be pretty damn pissed with himself if he allowed himself to think like that.

Pulling the hoodie on over your body, he reached a hand around your neck to pull your ponytail out. "I'll let you do those yourself," he gently chuckled, placing the shorts next to you and facing away from you around to give you some privacy. 

Charles heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of fabric, finally followed by the sound of you shimmying back under the covers. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. 

"No, no, I should be good," you told him, and Charles wasn't buying it for a second. It was at that point where the part of him that was compelling him to stay by your side and take care of you, protect you, love you won out. 

"You do realise that I'm not going anywhere?" 

"Charles, no, you're busy and-"

"Sweetheart, no. You need me, they'll be able to do it, I'm sure," he told you, and when you didn't argue back, he really grew concerned. Even when you were sick, you were normally able to bite back and give him some sass back. 

The fact that you had just accepted your fate worried him, even if he was relieved that he wouldn't have to try and convince you again. "I'll get you a water and some medicine, and then I'll sit here for the rest of the day or until you get better. Whichever happens first," he told you. 

Charles didn't miss the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, and he was glad that he could bring a bit of brightness to your day. Disappearing into the bathroom, he filled up a glass with water and rummaged around in the cabinets for some paracetamol. 

"Now you're going to take these, and then you're going to sit back and rest and let me dote on you."  he said with a slightly teasing tone, handing you the two small, white pills and watched as you popped them into your mouth before lifting the glass of water to your lips and encouraging you to take a sip. 

Once you had drank around half of the glass, Charles left it on the bedside table. "I want you to try and get some sleep, OK?" he said.

"Yeah, sure," you agreed, snuggling down into the covers. He hated having you just lie there when he felt that you needed his physical support as well as his emotional support. Just getting to hold you would surely make you feel better, and him too.

"Hey sweetheart?"

"Yeah? You OK?" you asked, and he couldn't help but grin. Even when you were feeling horrendous, you were still making sure he was OK. 

"I'm fine, yeah. Can I just... can I hold you? Or hug you? Or anything? I just feel so useless," he mumbled, instantly feeling like an idiot. But, before he could get ahead of himself, you responded. 

"Be my guest," you told him. Charles moved under the covers and then next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, gently tugging you towards him to that you could rest your head on his chest. 

You could hear the steady pound of his heartbeat, and it was a very soothing sound. Charles let out a sigh of contentment, glad that he was able to provide some semblance of comfort. He felt your weight against him as you relaxed, meaning he was doing his job right. 

Despite you feeling no where near 100%, he was glad that he could be the person who you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with and the person that would take care of you. You trusted him, and that was more than enough.

Plus, he'd be happy with cuddles anyday, whether you were sick or not.  

A/N - Hey loves! Hoping you're all doing well! I do have a little thing for the 5 year anniversary of Charles' 2019 Monza win, but it is nothing special. It is just a lil ol' something that I whipped up. Not really a story, but hey. It'll do. Have a wonderful day/night!💖

|masterlist|

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Benny when you come to him for help

"Ben?" You call out, rapping your knuckles on the door frame. You held your other arm flush to your chest, trying to ignore the searing pain coming from your shoulder.

Knocking on the door again. You didn't know if he was home or out with the guys. You just knew where his house was and that you needed help.

"Hang on a damn minute!" He yelled from inside. Clearly irritated at the disturbance at such a late hour. You breathed a sigh of relief that he was home.

"Benny please let me in." You called, glancing out into the night behind you.

"Y/N?" His heavy footsteps picked up in speed and he yanked open the door.

Practically barging past him, you stumble into the entrance way of the house.

"I'm so sorry Ben. I didn't have anywhere else to go?"

"How about a hospital? What the fuck happened to you." He looked you over, taking note of the cuts on your face and the way you held your arm.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. Why did you come here? Frankies' is closest to you."

"You told me I could come here if I needed to. For safety."

"Yeah but that was about- oh. Wait he did this to you?" The realisation dawned on him and he felt a wave of anger roll over him.

"I'm sorry. I just needed to get away from him, and he doesn't know where you live. Among other reasons. I would have gone to Frankie but Sam's not even a month old yet, and you don't have a baby."

"He's looking for you? To what? Have another go at beating you senseless."

"His exact words were a little more colourful and descriptive."

"Right... You need to sit down so I can clean you up. And then start over and tell me exactly what happened."

You took a seat on the very comfortable sofa. Perching yourself on the edge of the cushion. Not wanting to stain them with any dirt or blood.

Benny came back with his well stocked first aid kit. Constantly in use from his training and fighting injuries.

"Start from the top. I'm all ears." Benny prompted you as he took a seat on the footstool and started taking out some antiseptic wipes.

"There really isn't all that much to explain. I came home from work. Showered and the next thing I know he's on me like I've just told him I fucked someone in our bed. Which I hadn't by the way. Apparently some of his buddies saw me at your fight yesterday. Made up something about it and played into his jealousy about it. Nothing I could say way going to make it better."

"Fuckin' knew it. I told Will this would happen. Tell me you're not going back to him."

"Do I look brain damaged Ben? I'm not the girl that going to 'fix' him. The second he put his hands on me I was done. There's no going back from this."

A comfortable silence followed, only cut by the occasional sharp intake of breath from you as Benny cleaned you up.

"Good. 'Kay, I've cleaned up that busted eyebrow and your lip. You're lucky you don't need stitches for your hand. Can you move your shoulder or are taking a trip to the ER?"

"Ben I can't afford it. But it fuckin' hurts. I can move my wrist?" You offered, hoping it was helpful information.

Letting out a sigh, he placed down the cloth he had, "Ive fixed a fair few dislocated shoulders but if it's broken were going to have to. Can I see?"

You nodded, shifting to face him side on. He moved your hoodie to the side and his fingers prodded along you collarbone. Whimpering as he got to a particularly sore spot.

"What's the verdict nurse Miller?" You teased.

"I don't think it's broken, how this that happen exactly."

"He uh, kicked it."

Ben let out a puff of air, signaling his disgust, but continued feeling along your shoulder, "yep that's dislocated. I can put it back but I need to do it properly and quickly."

You nodded, Benny moved so he was sat behind you. Wrapping an arm around yours, he took hold of your upper arm. "Okay, what do I need to do, can you give me-"

With a sickening pop, he jolted your shoulder back into place. Letting out a horror movie worthy scream. You lurched away from him and blinked at him in shock.

"I'm sorry. It's best to just do it, warning makes it worse."

"Holy shit, that fucking hurt." You puffed out breaths of air trying to slow your heart. "But thank you."

"Try not to move it too much."

"Okay. Ben I'm sorry for just turning up here."

"None of that thank you very much. I'm just flattered you felt safe enough to come to me. I meant what I said."

"Of course I feel safe with you. You've always looked after me like I'm yours."

There was a tense silence for a moment after that as you both started at each other. Ben cleared his throat and shifted himself off the sofa.

"I'm going to grab you some painkillers. I bet you're starting to ache now."

He was right, you felt like you'd been put through a hydraulic press six different ways. Returning with a glass and a hand outstretched with a few pills in it. You gratefully took them. Downing the pills and the water easily.

"If you just drugged me I'm going to be so mad."

He let out a chuckle, "come on. If I was like that I wouldn't have wasted a good first aid kit on you. That shits expensive."

"The way you go through them yeah I bet they are." You both chuckled at the thought.

"Okay I sho-" You started to say but we're cut off by the sound a car pulling up and the engine turning off.

You heard a car door close outside. Making you freeze.

"Go upstairs now. Don't come back down until I say it's clear." Benny whisper shouted. He quickly tidied up the first aid kit and shoved it under a blanket on the sofa.

"Now!" He urged you when you didn't move.

Jumping into action you, ran upstairs, hovering on the landing.

Four sharp thumps to the front door had your blood running cold. How the fuck had he found you here?

"Will? What the hell do you want this late?"

"Is Y/N here?"

"Why?"

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"It's okay Y/N it's just Will." Benny called up to you.

Tentatively you came back downstairs. Seeing the two brothers stood side by side.

When Will locked eyes on you, he strode over and pulled you into a hug. He had always been the less affectionate of the two. So it surprised you as he rubbed your back.

"Thank god you're okay. He's been down the bar bragging about what he did to you."

"What? She's lucky she didn't have to go to the hospital." Benny seethed, "man I really want to go down there."

"Bet he missed out some bits. He was cradling his balls as I ran off."

The two of them snorted in unison, "you better have."

"Of course I did. He wouldn't have stopped. Fucker was trying to kill me."

"Well he's never gonna get the chance to again." Benny affirmed, gritting his teeth.

[estellan0vella]

Doodles Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

You return to the tattoo parlour, balancing a tray of coffee cups and a bag of pastries. The aroma of fresh coffee mingles with the scent of antiseptic and ink, a peculiar but comforting mix that you've grown to love. You push open the door with your hip and are greeted by the familiar sight of Gojo lounging on the couch, Geto perched on the edge, and Toji leaning against the counter. They glance up as you enter, offering a mix of smirks and lazy waves.

"Coffee's here," you announce, setting the tray down on the table.

"Finally," Gojo drawls, reaching for his cup. "I was starting to think you'd run off and left us to fend for ourselves."

"I wish," you retort, handing out the drinks. "Where's Sukuna?"

"Office," Geto replies, taking his cup with a grateful nod.

"Sleeping Beauty needed his nap," Toji adds with a chuckle.

You smile, picturing Sukuna sprawled out on the couch in his office, one arm draped over his eyes. "I'll go check on him."

Balancing the last cup of coffee, you head towards Sukuna's office. The door is slightly ajar, and as you approach, you hear the faint sound of giggling. You push the door open wider and freeze.

Yuji and Megumi are perched on either side of Sukuna, markers in hand, drawing elaborate patterns on his face. Yuji has a red marker and is carefully colouring a heart on Sukuna's cheek, while Megumi, armed with a blue marker, adds swirls and stars to his forehead. Sukuna, deeply asleep, is blissfully unaware of the artistic masterpiece being created on his face.

Your mind races. Should you wake him up? Stop the kids? Scream? Laugh? You have no idea what to do. Instead, you stand there, mouth slightly open, until Yuji notices you.

"Y/N/N!" he whispers loudly, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look what we did!"

"I see that," you say, voice hushed but incredulous. "Where did you get the markers?"

"Gojo let us use them," Megumi whispers, as if that explains everything.

You glance back at the trio in the other room. Gojo, Geto, and Toji are watching with poorly concealed amusement. None of them made any attempt to stop the kids. You shake your head, sighing.

"Okay, you two, let's go. Quietly," you instruct, ushering the boys out of the office. They giggle as they sneak past you, and you close the door softly behind them.

You return to the main room, where Gojo is practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. "You just let them draw all over his face?"

"We thought it would be funny," Gojo replies, grinning. "And it was."

"Very mature," you say, rolling your eyes. "You know he's going to wake up soon, right?"

As if on cue, a loud "What the fuck?" echoes through the parlour. You all freeze, and then Gojo and Geto dissolve into laughter, Toji smirking.

"You're all so brave," you mutter, as they push you towards the office. "Why me?"

"You're the best at calming him down," Geto insists, still chuckling.

"Yeah, go use those girlfriend superpowers," Gojo adds, winking.

Toji gives you a nudge. "Suck him off if you have to."

You glare at them as you walk towards the office. You can hear Sukuna's muttered curses and the sound of him moving around in the office. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and step inside, closing it behind you.

Sukuna is standing in front of the small mirror on his desk, staring at his reflection with a mix of disbelief and irritation. His face is a canvas of colourful doodles, and his eyes snap to you as you enter.

"Hey, Kuna," you say, trying to keep your voice light. "How was your nap?"

He points to his face. "What the fuck is this?"

"Uh, art?" you offer, giving him a sheepish smile. "The kids got creative."

His glare softens slightly as he looks at you, but he's still clearly annoyed. "And you just let them?"

"I didn't even know until I got back," you explain. "But, hey, it's washable. We can clean it off."

Before Sukuna can respond, Gojo's voice rings out from the other side of the door. "Put in the good work, Y/N, you're saving us all!"

Toji follows up with, "No teeth unless he's into that!"

Sukuna's expression shifts from irritation to something more dangerous. You can almost see the murderous thoughts forming in his mind.

"Ignore them," you say quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "They're just being idiots."

"You think?" he growls, but he doesn't pull away from your touch.

Geto's voice joins in, "Show him who's the real boss, Y/N!"

"And don't forget to swallow!" Gojo adds, laughter in his voice.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, and you step closer, trying to distract him. "They're trying to rile you up."

"They're succeeding," he mutters, but he's looking at you now, his gaze softening as he meets your eyes.

"I'll help you clean it off," you offer, reaching for a cloth and some cleaning solution from his desk. "Sit down."

He sits, still grumbling, and you gently start wiping away the marker. "You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood, "you make a pretty good canvas."

He snorts, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You're lucky I love you."

"I know," you reply, smiling back. "And I love you too, even with marker all over your face."

Gojo's voice calls out again, "Y/N, you still alive in there?"

"Yeah, she hasn't killed me yet," Sukuna shouts back, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, keep up the good work!" Geto hollers. 

"Only because you're scared of him," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "They should be."

"Can't argue with that," you agree, finishing up the last of the marker removal. "There, all better."

He stands, looking in the mirror again. "Thanks, babe."

"Anytime," you reply, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now, go deal with those idiots."

You step out of the office with Sukuna, your fingers entwined with his as you walk towards the front desk. Yuji and Megumi are already there, giggling and playing with their toys. You lift them both onto your lap, balancing them with one arm while grabbing your coffee with the other. The kids snuggle into you, their laughter bubbling up as they see Sukuna approaching the trio.

Gojo, Geto, and Toji exchange wary glances, trying to maintain their innocent expressions. "All clean?" Gojo asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

"For now," Sukuna replies, his voice dripping with ominous intent. "Now, who's first?"

The trio scrambles, but Sukuna's quicker. He grabs Toji by the collar and hauls him back, planting him firmly in a chair. "Hold still," Sukuna growls, pulling out a black marker from his pocket.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Toji protests, but he's laughing, clearly enjoying the chaotic turn of events.

Sukuna grins wickedly as he starts drawing on Toji's face, the crude outline of a penis taking shape on his cheek. "Just adding a little artwork. Sit still."

Gojo and Geto can't stop laughing, even as they try to make a run for it. Sukuna is relentless, though. With Toji marked, he quickly corners Geto next, who throws up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I give up!"

"Good choice," Sukuna says, drawing another crude image on Geto's forehead. The laughter continues, echoing through the parlour as Sukuna finally rounds on Gojo, who's been trying to hide behind a potted plant.

"Come on, Sukuna, you don't have to do this," Gojo pleads, but he's grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, but I do," Sukuna replies, pouncing on Gojo and quickly drawing yet another obscene image on his face as Gojo screams. The room is filled with laughter, yours included, as you sip your coffee and watch the chaos unfold.

Yuji and Megumi are practically bouncing with excitement, their giggles infectious. "Suku drew on their faces!" Yuji exclaims, clapping his hands.

"That he did, Yuji," you say, ruffling his hair. "Isn't it funny?"

Megumi nods vigorously. "Funny!"

Once Sukuna's done, he stands back to admire his handiwork. The three men sit there, each with a ridiculous drawing on their faces, their expressions a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

Sukuna turns to you, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Well, babe, what do you think?"

You raise your coffee cup in a mock salute, grinning from ear to ear. "Beautifully done, Kuna. A masterpiece."

The room erupts in laughter again, and even Sukuna chuckles, his earlier annoyance completely gone. The kids cheer, and you feel a warmth spread through you as you watch everyone having fun together.

"Alright, you three," Sukuna says, crossing his arms and towering over Gojo, Geto, and Toji. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before letting the kids use me as their canvas."

"To be fair, it was pretty funny," Toji says, trying to look innocent despite the crude drawing on his face.

"Yeah, you did look kinda cute with the whiskers," Geto adds, winking at you.

Gojo just laughs, slapping Sukuna on the back. "Consider it payback for all the times you've messed with us."

Sukuna rolls his eyes but can't hide his grin. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't make it a habit."

As the laughter dies down, you take another sip of your coffee, savouring the moment. Life at the parlour is never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1

[astro-pioneer]

chapstick!

your chapstick is too good to not share with him. 『chuuya, dazai, ranpo, honourable mentions』

chuuya!

didn't even realize it was yours at first

just saw it on the counter and went 'yoink you're mine now'

he thought it was one of his that he forgot he had tbh

it smelled and tasted similar but couldn't recall

your text to him made him realize he was very wrong

"I didn't know it was yours! I just saw it and realized I needed some so I took it." This is embarrassing; all of his subordinates were watching him 'argue' on the phone. "Yes, I understand it was hard to find. I promise I'll find a new one!" His sigh was full of defeat. Some of his men felt a little bad, having experienced the wrath of a significant other. He was already in a losing battle long before it even started.

His face erupted into pink over what you said through the receiver. "I- no! Listen, let me finish this mission and we can continue talking about this when I get home? I'll have a new one with me too, okay?" He can't believe that you called him when he was busy about something as small as chapstick. He'll just have to make it up to you, it seems, huh?

dazai!

menace to all of your items

likes to refer to everything as "our items"

knew exactly what he was doing

he once??? bit your chapstick?? out of nowhere????

loves to fluster you too which so it's a win-win to him

You were just sitting at your desk. You didn't bother anyone so far, did all your work for now, everything. So why, oh why, must the brunet get interested in what you're doing as soon as he sees your tube of chapstick come out of your drawer. "Ah, hey, can I borrow some?" He practically towered over you as he leaned against your desk.

You didn't even have the chance to open it before he started to bug you. However, this wasn't the first time he did this, so you just ignored him. The last time you offered it to him, he didn't even use it; it stayed in his pocket for a week before it took a swim in the river. He pouted when he realized you were still hung up on the last incident. He waited for you to look up after applying it to kiss you. "Vanilla? Good taste." He smugly massaged it into his lips as he left your desk.

ranpo!

makes sure every one you purchase is even mildly related to candy

"if you're applying it all the time at least make it taste like something we'll both enjoy!"

he slowly started to use your chapstick as time went on and he liked it more

got to the point where he'd somehow use the whole thing in a week? sir calm down

you carry two on you at all times now

Ranpo groaned while leaning back in his chair. Atsushi and Kyouka watched him blandly. "(Y/N) is so mean! Who buys a new flavour of chapstick out of nowhere?" He's been whining about the same thing for the past hour. You had to buy an emergency chapstick due to a misplacement of one of them. Ranpo was throwing a fit because he saw the different coloured tint and couldn't believe you decided to not have matching chapstick with him.

"But can you believe that? What about all the memories we had together with the same chapstick? I've been betrayed!" Something rolled off his desk and plopped onto the floor. Everyone in the room deadpanned while Ranpo refused to look. The very same chapstick he was complaining about laid at the bottom of his chair. "Oh."

honourable mentions!

sigma! man remembers every little detail about your favourite chapstick, down to every ingredient - had a mini meltdown in the store when he realized one changed and didn't know if you still wanted it

akutagawa! what's lip care? in all honesty the only time he'll go out of his way to apply it is if you offer it to him or he kisses you when you freshly applied it - wouldn't go out of his way to use anything other than that

[loz-3]

An Unwilling Operative - Part Two

Pairing: Loki x female reader Word Count: 2,257 Warnings: strong language, forced confinement, violence, forced sedation

Tags in the comments!

Part One

Consciousness ebbed and flowed like the tide. At times, you were only aware of colours and muted sounds, but sometimes a word would swim to the front and make some form of sense to your addled mind. Nothing spoken was ever in English, so while you could recognize spoken language, the meaning was lost. Deep within, you were aware that these were Hydra agents and whatever was happening was probably terrible. Moments passed, maybe hours, even days without respite until your vision cleared and you fully woke.

"What a fucking nightmare…" You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair. Glancing around, you were at home, on the couch, still wearing your work clothes from the day prior. You looked down at your watch, noting it was almost time to get up anyways. You tried to remember what the nightmare was about, but it was gone. Last thing you could recall was bidding Loki goodnight at the end of your coffee date. Scowling to yourself, you got up, scratching absently at a raised bump on your neck. You must have been bitten by something last night.

Once showered and dressed, you made your way to the office, not bothering to stop at the café. It was too overpriced for cheap, shit coffee anyways. You arrived late, which was very atypical for you. The receptionist waved and smiled, as she usually did, but you didn't even look up nor acknowledge her presence. Her face fell as you passed her desk silently, giving you a happy boost of serotonin.

The elevator was crowded, people shuffled to allow you a spot to stand, offering up “good mornings” and other pleasantries. Your scowl deepened and they kept their distance the best they could. ‘How on earth did I put up with this shit before?’ you thought, reflecting on the major shift in your attitude, ‘Fuck this place..’

When the doors opened on your floor, you pushed out of the elevator and set up for the day. Normally, you would organize the returned items, and prep paperwork ahead of the rush, all while cheerfully humming to yourself. Today was different, you felt the shift. It was like your eyes had been opened to reveal the truth about how shit your job was, and how greedy and corrupt S.H.I.E.L.D. was. Based on the tech you had access to, they obviously weren’t spending their government funds on bettering things for agents or the team.

Your day chugged on as you slowly descended into dubitation and general mistrust. As noon rolled around, you opted to close up for lunch. You just stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind you, when you noticed Loki loitering at the corner towards the lobby. With a huge smile, you went straight for him, grabbing the front of his leathers and pulled him down into an aggressive kiss. His eyebrows scrunched together, hesitantly pulling back. "What? I am not good enough for you now?" you spoke harshly, accusatorially, pushing off your grip on him.

He raised both hands in an effort to keep the peace, "Where is this coming from, Y/N?". Concern coloured his tone but he didn't lower his hands. He had noticed something was off earlier, having chalked it up to a bad day, but now he knew for sure that something was wrong. "We were starting slow, you did not want to rush…"

"Ah, of course! It's all my fault then!" You got right up in his face, arms crossed.

Loki lowered his hands to his sides, making sure to not touch you, "I did not say that…"

“But you thought it! ‘Stupid little Midgardian, couldn’t possibly know what she wants’!”

He sighed, gently placing a hand on each of your shoulders, “Please, listen to me…I..”

You cut him off, "Maybe you should just mind your own fucking business, if you're going to be like that." You turned your back on him and threw off his hands, striding part way down the hall before rounding back, "Know what? You and your massive fucking ego can fuck right off. Don't bother with tech requests anymore, I'll just get them sent directly to your room… saves me having to look at your narcissistic fucking face."

His jaw dropped in shock at your outburst, but he quickly composed himself, "I take my leave then." His eyes were steel as he headed around the corner, jamming the elevator button with enough force to crack the plastic. Your words had cut him deeper than you knew, but true to his nature, he buried the hurt.

You continued to pace the hall, a twinge of guilt flooded into your heart. '…I've never spoken to him like that before…' You thought, shaking your head in an attempt to organize your feelings, '…no..no! That's on him for leading me on!'. You retreated back to your office, slamming the door behind you. "What a dick…" muttering to yourself, you opened the shutters to the empty hallway.

Finally your day in this hellscape of an office was over. You slammed the gate closed, swiftly locking it and the door behind you as you swept from the building. You didn't encounter anyone on your way out, nor did you hope to. The goal was home and a bucket of whatever drink you had at there. Which, if you were honest with yourself, probably wasn't much. You walked quickly down the street, pausing only to glare at the little coffee shop on the way. "What a dump," you muttered under your breath, "and what a shit date THAT was…". Shaking your head to push out the memory, you hurried along, arriving at your door shortly. You stalked up the stairs to your apartment, noting the deadbolt was unlocked but not really caring that much. "If there's someone in here, you might as well just fuck off. I'm not in the mood for this today."

A man stepped into the light from your living room, leaning against the door frame, "My, my… aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" His grin was ominous, growing more sinister as you rolled your eyes at him and flipped him off.

"I say again… you can fuck off."

"But we have an offer for you, my dear." A second man stepped out from the hall to your right, you hadn't even noticed him at first so you stepped away in shock. He made no further move, however, allowing you to relax a bit.

You turned towards the first man, shifting your hands to rest on your hips, "What kind of 'offer'?" Just as the words passed your lips, a wave of déjà vu hit. You frowned, bringing a hand up to press against your brow, confusion ringing in your head. The man in front gave the other a quick nod and he grabbed a hold of your arms, allowing the other to inject something into your neck. "What the fu…"

The chemical in the syringe doesn't knock you out completely, but makes you very easy to maneuver. The two men escort you to the couch, speaking to each other in a language you don't understand. You are plopped down hard onto the middle cushion, staring up at the men. The first, wearing a dark jacket with a Hydra insignia, crouched down and grabbed your face roughly, "I need you to listen, we are here to help you…" You tried to nod, but the grip under your chin didn't allow movement, he carried on, "дальний, обзор, иль, винить"

At the last word he uttered, you felt your confusion melt and the whisper of the memory was gone. "I just work in a office, I'm not sure what I could do for you… especially after you broke into my apartment…"

He chuckled darkly, "And we apologize for that. We're the good guys here! Your 'employer', well, they're a front corporation. Every conflict, every war in history was started by them.. for profit. You had wanted to help people, but now you sit in a tiny room, under constant surveillance, giving their living weapons all the help they need to destroy and murder." His compatriot nodded along, somehow pushing those intrusive thoughts home within your mind.

"I…did. I do!" You pulled yourself forward on the couch, urgently grabbing at the hand he had dropped from your face, "What do I need to do?"

When you return to work the next day, you are armed with a pair of tiny flash drives. The first one, once inserted into any computer at S.H.I.E.L.D, would eventually break through their security systems and install a program that essentially would open a data tunnel for Hydra. After a few hours, you'd be able to switch out the drives and the second one would transmit all data via the latent tunnel program.

You thankfully avoided meeting anyone on your route to your station. The last thing you needed was more stupid conversations with your idiot co-workers. Once you clocked in and started your day, you popped in the first of the two flash drives.

Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to you, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security system was far more advanced than Hydra had anticipated and the attempt on breaking in got flagged immediately.

"What in God's name is happening?" Nick Fury stormed around his desk to confront the agent standing in his doorway. "What do you mean, 'we have an issue'?" "Sir.." the agent began, stuttering as Fury's good eye glared down at him, "Sir, we had a breach in the digital security sector but we don't know where the anomaly is originating from, aside from within the complex on level five." "That's most definitely an issue then." "Yes sir… we've managed to lock down the floors' server access and have isolated the program, so it thinks it's working properly." The agent stepped back as Fury swept from the room and strode to the main security terminal. Every camera had been pulled up on the screen and he could easily see that there was only a few staff currently on duty on level five. 'Now we wait…' he thought. Someone would eventually make a move that gave them away. Squinting at the screen, he noted that everyone on the floor were veteran staff. Why on earth would one of them sabotage S.H.I.E.L.D.? He shook his head, not giving in to the thoughts of having a traitor in the mix.

A few hours passed. Finally the first flash drive had finished its task, the little light on it had changed from blinking red to solid blue. You gripped the drive and pulled it out of the computer, dropping it into your pocket for destruction later. Slipping the other drive out, you leant forward and gently inserted it into the USB plug. Suddenly the gate on your window slammed shut.

Shit.

Rushing to the window, you found it was locked externally. Same with the door out into the hallway and the door back into the tech storage/repair area. 'Shit shit SHIT!' You were trapped…just like the rat you were.

As if your situation couldn't get any worse, you heard the click of something engaging beyond your sight and a yellow mist slowly began to descend from the sprinkler system. You pulled your shirt over your face and covered your mouth, knowing that nothing good ever came from inhaling mystery chemicals. Huddling in the corner of the room, you tried to avoid the mist but it was no use. Soon the whole space was hazy from the gas and your vision faded to black.

Now you were…here…wherever here was.

This place…as it turned out, was a very bright, very sterile-feeling square room with a single low slung cot and an awfully flat pillow in one corner. The rest of the space was windowless, colourless, and bleak. A large door took up most of the far wall, opposite the cot, and there was a little camera above the door frame. It was also very quiet. Most definitely a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell of some sort.

When you had awoken from unconsciousness moments ago, your body was curled up on that cot, facing the bare wall. Every muscle, ever fibre of your existence hurt. It was like a truck had rammed headlong into a tree, and you were that tree. 'Ugh, what the hell…' your emotions flitted between panic, hysteria, and pure rage, 'Now, how can I get out of this place?'

Glancing down, you realized your normal clothes were gone…replaced with a horrible grey-coloured jump suit. The shoes were plain white slip-on style and no socks. Very minimalist but at least they let you wear something. Being naked would have made this little adventure of yours so much worse. You pulled on the door…it didn't budge. Slamming your fists on the metal, you growled in frustration, knowing you were in a ton of trouble.

Turning your attention to the camera, you asked aloud "Well, what the fuck do we do now?". The light on the camera flickered once, as if it was trying to reply but no voice accompanied it. You sank down to the floor, back against the wall and waited. Knowing S.H.I.E.L.D, it was only a matter of time before someone came to question you.

Notes: I'm so sorry for this portion, I had to end it on a hard note but a third part (maybe the final?) will be up early next week!

дальний, обзор, иль, винить - Russian (further, overview, il, blame)

Part Three

[byechristopher]

⠀

In Another Life.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: omg hi, again. You'll soon find out how much I love angst, trauma and just "dark" fics. It's a way to express myself every once in a while. I hope you all like it, if you have any requests in mind, feel free to let me know. I will make it up to you all with some fluff, I promise, lol. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: (not proof-read) this is pure angst, mentions of death, coping with death in general, trauma bonding. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read, please. Have a great day, instead.

Playlist:

It is only 6:00AM and I am up and running, ready to start my long day, although my sluggish gait says otherwise. I always loved waking up so early in the morning – it gave me time to start doing things when people were still sleeping. It is always a struggle to keep myself awake, though.

"I'm outside."

The screen lights up and I can see Chris' name from here – he must be outside already. I sigh and I quickly put my jacket and scarf on, not forgetting my boots, of course. With my bag in my hand, I quickly leave the house, trying to be as quiet as possible so that my mom doesn't wake up.

Chris is waiting in the car, I take a better look at my surroundings – the fog makes it hard for me to see, it's dark and it's cold, and the humidity makes it look like it rained.

"Hey, Chris. Thanks for picking me up." I mumble, he nods with an understanding look on his face. He's got that sickening purple colour under his eyes and his skin is even paler than usual. We match, he looks like a mess, too.

How couldn't he, anyway? It was a difficult day today. It's only been three years and how could we ever forget?

Me and Chris have known each other for a long time. Ever since we were babies – our families were very close. That was until my parents got divorced and we never saw my father ever again; made my mom isolate herself. My father came back one day, asking for forgiveness for leaving like this. Not from my mom, from me. I didn't want to trust him but I still talked to him every now and then. Now, Chris never really liked me and I never really liked him, it's not like we ever had an actual conversation. Before something terrible happened, to the both of us. On the same day. On the same plane. The plane crashed – my father happened to be there and Chris' best friend happened to be there.

We were both devastated so we found ourselves hanging out more than usual – is it called trauma bonding? I think so. That's what we did. Bonded over trauma. Because that's what we needed most; a person who knows and feels what we feel, who goes through the same experience. I don't think it was he healthiest thing to do, but who is really healthy inside on this earth?

"Give me, like.. fifteen minutes. I'll be back, okay?" he says and I give him a reassuring hug, pecking his cheek. I nod, watching him go visit his best friend's grave while I visit my father's.

"I can't believe it's already been three years since you've been gone." I chuckle, making sure everything is clean and the flowers are nicely put in the vase, "right when you were about to actually spend time with me, hm?" I can feel the tears in my eyes, and every time I speak, it's like I'm digging an invisible knife deeper into my heart.

I don't know how long it's been because I'm still cleaning and trying not to think about anything, but I see Chris walking over to me. It's so obvious that he's been crying, but he offers a smile anyway. His nose is red, it's kind of cute.

"You feeling okay?" he wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I nod.

"What did I always tell you? Everything happens for a reason." I chuckle, wiping the tears away from my eyes as we walk away, and towards the car.

"I used to hate hearing that. But I believe it now." he nods and clears his throat, "Connor believed it, too." it took him a while to say his best friend's name without crying. I told him that Connor wouldn't be happy to see him crying like this – that was the only way to make him stop.

"I gotta go to work, now. But we'll meet later, yes?" I say, wrapping my arms around his waist, looking up. The combination of the sky, his tears and his pale skin make his eyes go icy blue, I can't help but smile a little bit. He nods and cups my cheeks, bringing me closer to him to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

I'm not sure what me and Chris have going on. We definitely hang out a lot, we kiss, I basically have all of my stuff in his house, we have sex, but we've never said anything about relationship, or anything like that for that matter. We've been going through the most traumatic and difficult experience in our lives, so I feel like we desperately need the affection but we're the only ones who feel the same. So we just.. do stuff together. I try not to think about it too much.

I definitely not want to think about it when I'm in his arms. We're in front of the fireplace, sitting down on the carpet. I'm sitting in between his legs with my back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrap all the way around my shoulders and knees (that are pressed to my chest), keeping me warm.

"I'm so glad to have you here with me, being by my side on this horrible day, every year." he whispers in my ear and I close my eyes.

"So am I. You're making me feel like I'm not as alone as I thought I was." I whisper back and let my head fall on his shoulder, turning my head so that I'm able to look up at him. We sit in silence for a bit.

"I was thinking.. what you always say. Everything happens for a reason. What if.. what if all of this never happened? What if they were both still alive, what if our families kept being this close, what if we kept hating each other.. would we still find a way to be where we are now?" his voice is low and steady, I can see the fire moving in the reflection of his glistening eyes, "or was this tragedy meant to happen for us to find what we wanted in each other?"

I stay silent for a little bit. I've thought about this a million times and every time makes me go crazier than the previous one, "is love supposed to grow in souls and bodies that are filled with so much pain? Because if so, then it's nothing like what they taught us love would feel like."

"Do you think love is what we feel for each other?" he presses a kiss on my warm cheek.

"I don't know." I say truthfully, "I think that we both find shelter in each other's pain. We feel the need to be heard, to be understood, and then we want to hear the other, to understand their pain. To help each other, to be there whenever they might need, to care."

"Isn't that what love is?" he asks innocently, "in its most tragic form?" he looks me in the eyes and smiles softly.

"I suppose so.. yeah.." I say because, indeed, love could also bloom in shattered hearts, it doesn't always have to be flowers and rainbows, "and to answer your question.. I think I would definitely imagine myself loving you, without all of these." my voice is as soft as it can get.

"I would definitely fall in love with you, too." he says, looking into my eyes. And for a moment, I imagine us just like this. In a life where we would be happier. In a life where we would be able to love each other, without anything holding us back, in a life where we could keep the people that we wanted in our lives. In a life where we would have the space and time to express our feelings, understand our feelings.

"So, stay with me forever and even longer than that.." he says and I smile, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck, all the way up to his cheek and lips, "I might be able to become someone who loves you even in the good times."

"That's a promise, then. Because I'm definitely staying, till I'm ready to love you in the good times, too." I smile and slowly turn around to face him this time, wrapping both of my arms and legs around him, like a koala.

He laughs, he's hugging me and kissing me softly, "want me to make you some hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please."

⠀

[changingplumbob]

Just a note to say Drusilla is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns.

Glenn walked over to the large tower. Jackson and Coleman had really made all those bricks on top of the ones for the houses? No wonder they were so cranky, it was a lot of work. Expecting the inside to be plain stone he was pleasantly surprised to see it furnished in a similar fashion to the living spaces of the houses with wood panels on the walls, a lot of books, and some comfy couches.

Glenn: Ummm, Drusilla? Are you... here?

The response came from somewhere above him.

Drusilla: For you, I suppose so, if you have something to offer. Up the ladder

Glenn turned and noticed the ladder leading upwards. Well he hadn't got his workout in today so he supposed this would have to count. Testing how fast he could climb he reached the top easily and pulled himself on to the floor.

Drusilla: My time has a price Glenn, what do you want

Glenn: It's not me specifically, well I guess it is, but Phoebus said I should see you about learning some spells

Drusilla: *scoffs* You think you can manage what I do

Glenn: I don't actually know what you do

Drusilla: A lot, I've been at this a long time. How about necromancy

Glenn: Oh, no, I don't fancy bringing anyone back from the afterlife

Drusilla: *sighs* Why does everyone think that's what necromancy means? It's about communicating with spirits of the dead, completely different to reanimation

Glenn: Do you... reanimate stuff?

Drusilla: Some of the spirits enjoy a taste of life. For example, if a bird breaks it's neck I can make it a stable house for a spirit for up to a week

Glenn: Right, well, I don't think I'll be trying that out

Drusilla: Reading minds of others? It can be incredibly useful and often far easier than talking

Glenn: Uh, I'm going to say no again. I do actually enjoy talking

Drusilla: *huffs* What do you actually want to do then Glenn? I don't have time to figure it out for you

Glenn: Phoebus said you're the best at mischief magic, is there some kind of magic trick you can teach me? To keep me safe if I decide not to stay here

Drusilla: Why would I teach a trick? Although... I suppose some kinds of illusion spells could be helpful...

Glenn: What do you mean

Drusilla: What are the walls made of Glenn

Glenn: Uh, bricks on the outside, a lot of bricks. Then wooden paneling for the interior walls

Drusilla: Wrong. They are completely brick

Glenn: But the panels-

Drusilla: There are no panels Glenn. They're a self sustaining illusion I cast. I could teach you something similar, how to make it look like something is there or more useful, how to hide something from sight

Glenn: If it's not too dangerous

Drusilla: So long as you don't hide a dragon you're fine. Now, my fee

Glenn: Fee?

Drusilla: For my time. I'm doing some research on alternate universes. How they may interact, if there are ways to see others, contact alternate me's, that sort of thing. Heartbreak has been in short supply around here so I'll borrow some of yours, it can be a useful ingredient

Glenn: You'll borrow my heartbreak?

Drusilla: It's tied to you, so I'll just borrow a bit of you. Now, I best use it right away so you stay here and finish this gem for me

Glenn: Wait you're charging me and expecting me to do something for you?

Drusilla: If you ever want your hair colour back then yes

Glenn: What do you mean my hair colour?

Drusilla: An integral part of you is your hair, it holds a good portion of your essence and therefore the heartbreak. I've borrowed the colour

Glenn: Wait, are you saying-

Drusilla: Your hair is black right now? Yes

Glenn: But- but- I didn't feel anything

Drusilla: I'm just that good

Glenn: But I love my green hair! It makes me me, and looks good

Drusilla: Then I guess you'd better get on with the task I set if you ever want it back

Glenn: You can't just steal stuff like that

Drusilla: *scoffs* Maybe you can't but I assure you, I can. Don't worry, the spirits will tell me when you're done, then I'll return the colour

Glenn: But I don't know anything about gem carving

Drusilla: That sounds like a you problem. No time to learn like the present Glenn

Glenn watched Drusilla depart and felt his heart sink. They may be powerful but something told him he should stay clear of Drusilla in future if he could.

Drusilla: *yelling* That's not very nice

Damn, they did read minds.

Previous ... Next

[foggieststars]

For the one word prompt: landoscar (fireworks)

this got very long and slightly angsty ... enjoy <3

-

Oscar finds Lando hours after the crowds have gone home, when the trophies have been packed neatly away into boxes, fireworks still firing into the sky, exploding in a blaze of glorious colour.

He's on a balcony at the rear of the McLaren motorhome, watching the empty track. There's a champagne flute dangling loosely from his fingers, chin propped up on his hand.

"You alright?" Oscar asks, hovering nervously.

Lando doesn't acknowledge that Oscar's spoken, so Oscar moves forward until they're standing next to each other. "Lando," he says, quieter. "Can we talk?"

Lando snorts, the first noise Oscar's heard from him since they'd toasted to Oscar's final race with McLaren, hours ago now. Oscar had meant to find him earlier, but everyone had wanted to say goodbye to him. He'd been unexpectedly touched by it; all these people, even mechanics from Lando's side of the garage, coming up to shake his hand, wish him good luck with his new team.

New team. The words still send a tingle of anxiety down Oscar's spine, even though he thinks it's the right choice. When you cut through the haze of emotion, sever the messy ties of loyalty and indebtedness, you're left with nothing but cold, hard facts.

The car had been good, so it had made sense to stay. The car is no longer that good, so it makes sense to leave.

It's something Mark's excellent at. It's something Oscar's trying hard to be good at.

It's something Lando's never been great at.

"Lando," Oscar repeats, shifting so that their shoulders are touching. He can see Lando's face like this, silhouetted alternately in hazes of red, blue and gold, fireworks crackling above their heads. "C'mon."

Oscar hates having talks like this. Lando never makes it easy.

"What, Oscar?" Lando says, voice rough. His eyes are shiny in the light. "What'd you want me to say? Goodbye? See you later? Keep in touch?"

Lando shakes his head, and his curls bounce. He's grown his hair out in recent years. Oscar likes it, though he thinks fondly of the scruffy mop Lando had had when they'd met for the first time. When Lando stuck his hand out for Oscar to shake and said, "Alright? Welcome aboard."

"Something like that would be a start," Oscar says, voice hoarse.

Lando sighs, tilts his glass so the small amount of liquid in it wobbles precariously. It's no longer bubbly; gone flat in the heat.

"I don't want to say any of that," Lando says. "Fuck, Oscar. I don't want any of this."

Oscar doesn't know what he means. Doesn't want Oscar to leave? It feels - too hopeful, maybe. Doesn't want a new teammate is more likely. Lando hates alterations to his routine, things which threaten to upset the fragile ecosystem of his world.

"We had a good run though, didn't we?" Oscar offers, nudging Lando's shoulder with his own.

Lando shrugs, sulky and petulant. Oscar hates it when he gets like this. He always feels like he's saying the wrong thing, winding Lando up even more. Five years as teammates, three years of - whatever this is, and still Oscar's never been able to figure him out. Never managed to untangle the thorny snarls in Lando's mind, work out what makes him tick.

"Whatever, mate," Lando finally says, standing up straight and draining his glass. He plonks it down on a nearby table, so hard that Oscar practically feels the reverberations in his bones.

Oscar catches his wrist as he turns to go, pulls Lando into his body. There's not much height difference between them, but it comes in handy on occasions like this. Lando resists him at first, and then curls into Oscar, tucking his face into the side of his neck.

Even when he's in a bad mood, all he ever wants is someone to reach out and touch him, reassure him that it's all going to be okay.

"'s not like I'm going far," Oscar points out, pressing the words into Lando's curls like a kiss. "I'll literally be one garage over."

Lando makes a wounded noise, like the reminder of it is too much.

"And I'll be at your flat all the time this break, if you'll let me."

Lando stills against his body, and then pulls back. "Oh," he says, surprised. "What, really?"

Oscar's eyebrows twitch together. "Um, yeah?" he says, laughing nervously. "I barely even keep any of my stuff at my flat anymore. It'd be a bit annoying to have to buy a new telly. Mine broke like a year ago."

"Right," Lando says, eyes bouncing around, unable to settle on any one thing for too long. "Right - okay. So, like. You still want to - do this, then?" he asks, gesturing between their bodies.

Oscar tilts his head, rubs circles into the bones of Lando's wrist with his thumb. "Course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno," Lando says, a shade defensively. Those are definitely tears glistening in his eyes. "I thought, like. Because we weren't gunna be teammates anymore, you'd, like. You know?"

Oscar might not always get him, even after all this time, but he's well-versed in Lando-speak by now. "What?" he laughs, shocked. "You thought that'd be it? Nice knowing you, mate, and thanks for all the blowjobs?"

"Guess so," Lando says, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a toddler. Something in Oscar's chest clenches at the sight of it. Lando wearing a hoodie in the thick heat of the desert. He's not meeting Oscar's eyes. "'S what Daniel did."

Oscar can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears. "I'm not Daniel," he points out redundantly.

Lando peers up at him, lashes clumped together with tears. "Yeah?" he croaks, biting at his bottom lip.

"Yeah," Oscar echoes. "You bloody idiot. Do all Australians look the same to you, or something?"

Lando laughs, but it comes out shaky and wet. "Something like that."

Oscar twists his hand, twines their fingers together. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises. "Me going to - it doesn't mean anything. Not for us, okay?" He squeezes Lando's hand.

Lando's bottom lip is caught between his teeth. "You promise?" he asks, sounding absurdly vulnerable and young.

"I promise," Oscar says, and pulls Lando in for a kiss.

It's stupid, and risky, and senseless. Anybody could see them like this, twined together in a poorly-concealed corner. Zak could come bursting through the doors right this second. A journo might be lurking in the paddock after-hours.

Oscar doesn't care. All he wants right now is this: Lando's plush mouth against his own, teeth scraping against Oscar's bottom lip, fireworks sizzling in the night sky above them.

[mushroomwoods]

Sunflower Fields

the rustling wind was all too characteristic now, dream or not, he just wished to remember your voice...

character — wars, romantic or platonic

cw — mild angst with happy ending.

this is a gift i made for the loveliest @wayfayrr and took way too long to post because tumblr is a bitch, but since i am here now... enjoy! ps: i made an art commission from the dearest @h4wari. check it out, it's amazing!

The calm summer breeze blew, comforting and slightly humid as it ruffled his hair along with the scarf.

Blue star coloured eyes focused on the horizon, the chatting and bantering happening beside him barely catching his attention.

He looked lost.

As if chasing after something oh so far away, yet he didn't know what it was.

“Dozing off again, Link?” Impa voice resounded, breaking him off his stupor, gladiolus eyes thinning at the blank stare the warrior offered her.

“Let it be, Impa.” Zelda cut through, graciously stirring the tea before she poured one cup for herself.

“Ah, I can do it, Your Highness-” As Impa tried to stand up, the princess simply waved her hand.

Link took a sip of his own tea, already cold, though the gentle rosemary scent still filled his nostrils, a vague memory of Zelda telling him it was one of her favorite ones coming to mind, yet as the flavor seeped into his mouth he could only grimace.

Bitter.

The princess lightly pushed the sugar pot nearer to him, yet the hero refused, setting the porcelain cup back to the saucer with a muted clack.

“Excuse me, but I have to go back to my duties.” A blatant lie, he had been given a week off just the previous day.

Nonetheless, the princess nodded in understanding, barely looking his way as he made his way out of the garden. The gerbera daisies surrounded him the whole way out, as if mocking him, the sunny yellow shade only serving to make his mood worse.

He couldn’t understand why it was happening, why sometimes there were lapses of memories within him, the figments of a voice and a soft touch that caressed his cheeks with so much tenderness that he wanted to cry. He knew that such a thing could never have happened in the past as he spent most of his time in the war and taking care of his job as a commander.

His fists clenched when he finally reached the outer walls of the castle, the soldiers guarding the area bowed to him in respect, before opening the gates.

Freedom at last.

Somehow, after everything that happened, he couldn’t feel at ease while in that place, when near those people, when he got reminded of every single nightmare he had to push through, he felt as if drowning amidst the suffocating essence of abatina flowers, her image resurfacing to his mind even when he tried so hard to wipe it out of the memory.

With a sigh, he started heading back to his quarter, a vague sensation of deja vu overcoming his body, the rustling of the crisp summer air brushing his hair as if it was a loving hand.

The path home was quiet, some people greeting him here and there, to which was answered by his collected smile.

A fake.

Somehow nothing made sense, nothing seemed real, no amount of working or enjoyment made him feel at ease.

As the door to his house was opened, the red columbine in his stand shriveled, petals droopy, as thirst for a little drop of water, even then he ignored it, too aware of his own cowardice, hanging his uniform as he made his way to the bed.

The tired body just crumbled onto the bed, not trying to hold onto consciousness as he fell into a deep slumber.

…

He felt weightless, the usual tiredness not heaving into his shoulder.

A patch of small sunflowers surrounded him, someone sitting amidst it, a laughter familiar to him.

They said something that he couldn't quite understand, but before he could ask anything, they walked towards him, taking his hands into theirs, comforting and warm just as he remembered.

They laughed before bursting into hundreds of birds of paradise, colourful and filled with emotions.

Link didn't have any time to process it, however, as his eyes opened, the rays of light shone down on him as yet another day started.

Repeating it all once again.

He wished to sigh, but staying still at the same place for so long wouldn't do him any good, and only make him pity himself even more.

Just as he opened the curtains of his bedroom, his eyes widened, the place that should have been a vast open hill, was now covered in a patch of sunflowers, much like the dream he just had.

Not even bothering to take his usual uniform, he headed out in a flurry, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled towards the door.

As he opened it, the sight that greeted him was a familiar, yet unknown figure, surrounded by the townsfolk, all carrying bouquets of sunflowers, and placing it around the now covered patch of land.

The mysterious person's eyes met his, and they didn't hesitate before approaching him, the white-pink valerians in their arms standing out among the bright yellow blooms everyone else held.

“I'm sure you didn't expect it, Link.” Their familiar voice rang inside his heart, and he unknowingly smiled at it.

“You… how..?” So many questions flooded his head, yet no coherent words came out.

Scalding hot tears brimmed around his eyes, and with a soft smile they brushed it out of his face.

“I'm sorry that it took me so long to get to you my dear.” They answered with a melancholic smile, offering him the valerian bouquet.

He hesitated for a second, yet the moment he saw the guilt in your eyes, he carefully took it, not wasting any more time before taking you into a warm embrace.

“I missed you so much…” Link said.

“Me too, Link.” You sobbed into his arms.

Blue Star — Strength, Resilience

Gladiolus — Victorious, Strength

Rosemary — Remembrance

Gerbera Daisies (Yellow) — Appreciation in relationships

Abatina — Fickleness

Red columbine — Anxious, Trembling

Dwarf Sunflower — Adoration

Bird of Paradise — Freedom

Valerian — Readiness

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Please please write the David hair dyeing fic, I will give you my kidney and all of my life savings(8.37 not to brag)

I mean, I would have written it for a like and a reblog, but if you're offering ;) Also, please please please read this one from @luv4fandoms - it's really cute, and I love it! I hope you like this!

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

A soft sigh escaped me as I felt my arms start to ache. Yesterday, I had the brilliant plan of dying my hair - I felt it was a time for a change. A big one - I wanted to go red. The packages I'd bought seemed to promise a bright firetruck red. I only figured that out when I had already put the paint in half my hair, and now I was hoping that it would just look good. I continued putting the dye in the other half of my hair when the bathroom door opened, and my longtime boyfriend walked in.

"Red?"

"Is it too much? I thought I'd like it but I don't know - it seems too bright, you know?" I looked at David through the mirror, guessing that I was looking at him. David took my arm, so I looked at him and he could study both my face and the colour. He smiled.

"It will look good."

"Good." I sighed, ready to paint the final strands of hair. Before I could grab the bottle with dye, however, David had already grabbed it. "I'll finish for you. Let your arms rest for a while."

"Thanks," I sat back, enjoying the feeling of his fingers massaging the dye in my hair.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"You dye mine too."

"Wait, you dye your hair?"

"You thought I was this blond?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you think my hair got the way it is?" He motioned at his mullet, causing me to giggle.

"I always figured it was a mishap, and you ate the one responsible?"

"Fucking fried my hair."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Never let the boys touch your hair, kitten. Never."

"So, you want me to dye your hair? You trust me with that?"

"You," he put the bottle with dye away, setting a timer for 35 minutes, " want me to look good. The boys absolutely don't give a fuck and like to mess around."

I grinned, motioning for him to sit on the chair in the bathroom. "Alright," I kissed his cheek, "I'd love to dye your hair."

An hour later, I was in the shower removing the dye from my hair, while David was doing the same, leaning over the sink.

"This ain't working," he grumbled, and before I knew it, he was standing next to me in the shower, his hands moving through my hair as the water turned a dark red.

"It's like the opening scene of Carrie," I giggled, looking at it, moving so he had more water and could wash the bleach out of his hair. It didn't take long before the water ran clear. With a content sigh, I leaned against David, enjoying both his comfort and the warmth from the shower.

"We can't stay in the shower forever, kitten." David turned the shower off, ignoring my protest, before quickly wrapping me in a towel and practically throwing me on the bed. I couldn't help but laugh, drying off quickly and getting into some pyjamas. "So, how about I order some food, you eat the delivery guy, and then we watch a movie?"

David grinned, leaning forward to kiss me. "Sounds good to me."

[findafight]

Not me writing a prologue for a fic I'll maybe never write about Steve being on the Dream Team lmao. I saw a pro basketball player Steve post a while ago and couldn't stop thinking about it. Anyways-

At the end of March Madness in 1989, the scout for the Pacers has lunch with the head coach of a community college basketball team that somehow made it to the first round before being pulverized. They sit across from each other, the coach seemingly a bit overwhelmed but not outright surprised. That's good, it means Jerry, the scout, doesn't have to worry about him freaking out or babbling too much.

The team captain had caught his, and possibly others', eye. Good layups, a few three pointers, solid defence, and a helluva lot of potential add up to someone to keep an eye on, except they can't because the guy plays for a rinky-dink community college and only had one televised game. The only reason Jerry saw the kid is because the Roane County Community College Ospreys had put in a hell of a fight the past three seasons. Jerry wonders why the hell the kid hadn't been offered a scholarship somewhere...not Roane County. Doesn't matter though, because they're here now.

"so. You wanted to talk about Steve?" Says the coach, August Nearaly, a bit weary.

Jerry nods, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. Wanted to get a sense of him before I actually talked to him."

August sighs. "As a player or as a person?"

Raising his eyebrows. "Is he that different off the court?"

"no! No, not like how you probably think. Harrington's a sweet kid, but also incredibly...well, not weird, but. Peculiar? He's got quirks. Bit paranoid, but not in a conspiracy way. In a 'no one should walk home alone in the dark' or 'hey, where'd John go? He was right here and then I did a headcount and he's not?' kinda way. Y'know? Like, they're all adults, but he does headcounts and worries anyways."

"huh. Oookay?"

"it-- I'm not saying this to rag on him, to be clear. It just too a while to get used to. Honestly, it's been good for team building. Makes them think of each other not as individuals, but part of a unit that needs everyone healthy and whole to work."

"that's good. He's a team player."

"oh yeah. It's not surprising, really. He's from Hawkins." August says the name like Jerry should know what that means. It's a town, sure, but other than that... Jerry's at a loss. Maybe something a few years ago about a fire? "He has most assists in Osprey history. Some of the guys joke that he's allergic to the ball."

"He's good on the court?"

"Jerry. I know you're here because you saw the March Madness game. You know he's good. He'd be even better if he could afford those fancy prescription goggles Horace Grant wears."

"seriously? Why not contacts?"

"don't make them for his prescription. You didn't see his interview? Kid's got thick horn rimmed glasses. Too many concussions apparently. God knows how he tells players apart when the jersey colours are similar."

"shit. That's why he was squinting the whole time? I thought he was just stressed."

He shrugged. "eh. Probably a bit of both. He takes it seriously, but not too seriously. Y'know? Half the guys were shitting themselves from nerves and Harrington stands up in the locker room, hands on his hips, and gives a speech worthy of the most melodramatic underdog sports movie."

Jerry laughs. "No shit."

Waving his hands, August nods. "no shit! He says all this stuff like 'we worked hard...we deserve this...we may not win but let's do our damn best. The worst that could happen is we lose, and that isn't the end of the world. So let's go out there and play some basketball!' or something, his was better, and the boys cheer. Then they put in fifty points to one-thirty."

Jerry winces. "Must have hurt, huh?"

August grins. "No way. One of the best games they ever played. You saw it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. They played their goddamn hearts out." He leans forward. "My boys don't have the same facilities as the big universities, or the funding to offer scholarships. They're at Roane Community because they want a degree or certificate but have other responsibilities. Parents or siblings to stay close to, jobs to work, people to take care of. They joined my team because they like playing basketball, loved the game and wanted to spend some of their precious time playing it. They put the work in on the court and off it. And we made it to the NCAA tournament because of it. We put in fifty points against the goddamn Michigan Wolverines! The champs! And they knew that. I've never heard of a locker room after an 80 point defeat so happy."

"seriously?"

It's all pride when Coach Nearaly says "yep. They may not be the best basketball players in college, but my god, they're probably the best team."

"because of Harrington?"

"partly. They all contribute, make sure they do things right. It's not a one man show, that's the point. They rally around him, but they all are part of the team, and know it. That's what Steve makes sure. Why I made him captain."

"So, you think he'd be a good pick for the Pacers?" This is, after all, a business meeting.

August nods, picks at his pancakes. "I'll be honest with you Jerry. You're not the first scout to talk to me about Steve."

"really? Who?"

"you know I won't say. But, between me and you, Steve's Indiana born and bred. His wife's planning on getting some lib Arts degree in Chicago or Indy, and your offer might be the deciding factor for them."

Jerry blinks. "He's married? At, what? Twenty-one?"

August nods. "Just turned twenty-two. High school sweethearts or something. Obsessed with each other." He chuckled, a bit ruefully. "I'm a bit jaded but damn. You mention her name? He lights up like the fuckin Fourth of July."

Jerry whistles. "Honeymoon phase gets us all."

"for almost two years? Nah. It's just love." It sounds a little wistful, coming from August. "Anyways. I dunno if the other team is serious about him, and if they are, they'll probably be disappointed. Kid isn't moving out of the Midwest. He's got family here, and is getting a goddamn elementary education degree. He won't uproot his life for a chance at the NBA. But, if you offer. Well. He'd at least seriously consider it."

Humming, Jerry chews his eggs as he thinks. "You think he'd be up for the lifestyle? The road games out numbering home ones?"

There's an air of seriousness when August levels Jerry with a look. "If he doesn't want to, he'll tell you. You gotta give him time to talk to his family though. This offer? It'll come out of left field for him, even if I give him a heads up. You get that, yeah? You want to recruit a kindergarten teacher to the NBA without any build up. He needs time to process that and then see where the people in his life are at with it."

"I guess it is unusual."

"try being the community college basketball coach getting two goddamn calls from NBA scouts. Thought I was hallucinating."

Jerry laughs, counts some bills for the tip. "Thank you. For your time and insights. Let Steve know I'll call tomorrow?"

"will do. He'll still probably drob the phone on you, though."

"as long as he doesn't hang up!"

[cloverthecactus]

house husband [miguel o'hara x fem!reader]

summary: you and your husband miguel recently moved into a new home and due to an unexpected twist, miguel became a house husband.

warnings: none !

wordcount: 1.4k!

notes:

not proofread, plug and post

no use of 'y/n' (hate it! can't stand it!)

intentionally written in lowercase with certain letters, words and phrases in capital.

this is drawn out a bit BUT eventually concludes

meant to be a 'short' 1 parter, but if requested will write a part 2 :)

you and miguel had recently moved into the perfect home.

a large cottage home, just outside the city and was surrounded by greenery every way you looked. in the backyard was a lake that sparkled a sea green colour. your husband (miguel) was a busy man. he was one of the few CEOs who "ruled" brand known as 'the spider society'. he designed sports clothing and called it the '2099 collection'. it became fairly popular in recent years and due to the overwhelming success, miguel finally gave you the ultimate gift, your dream home.

he held you in his arms as though you were a newly wedded bride and kissed your lips. he softly smiled at you and began to walk into your new home.

"oh, miguel, it looks so spacious... so amazing!" you excitedly exclaimed and squeezed his arm. "i knew you would love it" he softly chuckled, setting one hand on his hip as he stared at you, planning where each of your trinkets would be.

you were so distracted by your planning that you failed to notice your husband answering a phone call. you also failed to notice the slight anger and disappointment that fled to his face and voice. only once he had loosened his arm from your grip had you noticed his sudden change in demeanour.

"honey? what's wrong?" your face displayed worry but miguel's displayed anger. he turned to look at you and sighed as he rubbed his temples.

"i uh- lost my job" his tone was confused and no matter how many times you asked why they fired him or what he did to get this punishment, he just replied with a hushed; 'i don't know dear'. it made you pissed that he didn't have the answer and after bickering for several minutes, the two of you made a simple agreement.

you would work extra hours at your job (hopefully get a raise) and he would keep the house tidy. miguel then later dubbed himself as your house husband.

the two of you were able to live a stable life after that. you got a promotion at your job and began to get paid 60% more than before which allowed you to tell your husband to 'suck it' which he misread and actually did suck it...

but besides that, the two of you were happy.

you entered the home earlier than usual today and sighed aggressively as you took off the shoes that you wore. miguel hugged you from behind, littering your face in light kisses. you giggled as he performed his actions doing the same routine everyday as you entered the home.

"you're home early today. did something happen at work?" he looked at you with admiration, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"the paperwork got too much to bear and i had 3 meetings scheduled after one another. i got so stressed that i began to feel sick, so i gave the paperwork to my assistant to complete, rescheduled the meetings and came home." you softly smiled, leaning your cheek against his head.

miguel couldn't have you being sad. not after all you've done to keep your little family financially stable since he lost his job. he loosened his grip on you and turned you around to face him. he was wearing your white and brown frilly apron that was dusted with bits of flour and what seemed like butter and a wet stain you assumed was water or milk. to keep himself busy, miguel began doing small hobbies. he began cooking, learned embroidery, read more and even took a liking to gardening.

miguel gently placed a kiss on your lips, and walked you to the kitchen where he offered you one of the pastries he had just made. "honey, i'm exhausted. could i try a pastry once i wake up from my nap?" a yawned escaped your mouth as you sat down in one of the dinning room seats. "but i just made a fresh pot of coffee and it's my first time making blueberry scones." he pout and kneeled down before you, holding your knee.

"could you try just one? i can give you a fresh cup of coffee and then you can rest." he politely asked, a small smile spread across his lips. he looked so adorable, you couldn't resist. so with a defeated sigh, you smiled and nodded "sure honey, let's try one" his eyes lit up as he stood from his position and poured the coffee into your favourite mug. he dished two fresh scones and with a proud smile he rested the tableware down. "i hope you like it" he whispered and kissed your cheek.

"im sure it's delicious darling. your baking has improved a lot in the past few weeks" a warm smile coats your face as you take a bite into the warm and still soft scones. your eyes widen slightly at the taste which has your husband excited and giddy like a child who just got an allowance. "miguel, this tastes incredible" you chuckle and offer him a bite from the piece you had eaten.

he nods as he chews the scone and gently kisses your cheek. "i agree with you, this is the best sweet treat i've made so far" he spoke and sat alongside you as you drank your coffee and ate the scones.

you yawned, showing the effects of the coffee wearing off and tapped miguel's forearm softly while leaning against his shoulder. "you wanna take a nap?" he asked in a soft tone, looking down at you with a soft smile. you slowly nod and fulttered your eyes closed. "i could fall asleep right here, but then you're gonna yell cause im not getting proper rest" you pout, knowing how miguel got when it came to your well-being. he would get upset when the two of you would go on roadtrips and you would fall asleep with the seat upright, saying you deserved to sleep in a proper way.

"want me to carry you to bed?" he asked in a warm tone, moving his arm around you. you shook your head 'no' and insisted you walk up those long stairs to your bedroom. "fine then, if i can't carry you to bed, i'll help you there. i know how you get when you're sleepy" he scoffed and helped you stand, slowly guiding you to your shared room.

he helped you out of your work attire and into something more comfortable. he then tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead. "miggy?" you groaned and opened your eyes.

"hmm?" he replied looking down at you

"im no longer sleepy." you spoke in annoyance with your body and guilt as you made miguel do all of this for you to be wide awake. "i'm sorry" you apologised with a pout to which miguel just chuckled and sat against the edge of the bed.

"honey, it's okay. you are exhausted but you just don't want to sleep." he rubbed your leg that was under the covers and smiled

"i know that... i can feel the exhaustion, but i just cant sleep" you whined and rest your head against the headboard. miguel sighed and took off his apron, dusting himself off and climbing into the bed next to you. "i will cuddle you to sleep and once you're asleep, i'll make dinner and the wake you up with a surprise." he spoke reassuringly and opened his arms to engluf you in a comfortably cuddle.

"thank you miggy, i love you" you mumbled under his arm that you stuffed your face under. a light chuckled escaped his mouth and he kisses your head

"i love you too, dear"

the two of you laid in comfortable silence as he tried to cuddle you asleep, which you had discovered was not making you as sleepy as you thought.

"honey?" miguel called, knowing you weren't asleep. you hummed a reply and opened your eyes. "i feel like something's missing" he spoke unsure which caused you to look up at him in a daze of confusion. "elaborate please?"

"with you working almost nine hours everyday, it gets so... boring. dont get me wrong, i love this easy life i have, but i feel like i need something more." he sighed and looked down at you.

"i understand the jump from working almost every day to being a house husband. there's a lot you did at your job that you no longer do and it's frustrating" you replied in an understanding tone and moved your hand from his back to his cheek.

"cooking, cleaning, gardening... it's just not the same. it feels like something is missing, and i feel like i need more"

"what are you implying miguel?" you asked with a raised brow, fearing the worst.

"i want to have a baby."

you exhaled deeply and displayed a tentative smile. "oh thank god! i thought you were gonna ask for a divorce!" you laughed giddy, holding your hand on miguel's chest

"no, honey, i want a baby" he chuckled and kissed your forehead. "i can wake up at random hours of the night or morning to take care of the sucker and when you're so tired you want to cry, me and the baby will be there to cheer you up. think of the memories and challenges we will face together!" you bit your lip in thought

"miggy, i dont know. if i got pregnant that would mean i need to take maternity leave which requires me to spend around 2-3 months at home. where will the money come from? not just that, baby food, baby clothes, equipment. we would have to renovate the guest room to a nursery and–"

"calm down, love." he softly spoke and rubbed your back to soothe your mind from the worries. "what if we adopted? it would save the time wasted on maternity leave and we could renovate the nursery on our own. it could be a fun project that we can do together"

you had wanted to do more things with miguel and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. you had your doubts and issues with having an infant around, but if it made your husband as happy as he makes you, you wouldn't mind.

you looked up and made direct eye contact with miguel. tapping his chest softly and nodding you softly spoke; "lets adopt a baby"

you had never heard your husband squeal and you swear that if he was any higher he would have cracked a few glasses. he kissed your lips passionately and chuckled as he let go of your lips. "we're going to have a baby ! we're going to be parents !"

all you could do is smile. you had never seen miguel this excited in a long time and you savoured the moment for as long as you could. your husband had not wasted time on planning. he spoke about when the two of you would begin renovating your child's room, what colours the walls should be painted and what name your kid should call you.

he really liked 'papa'.

you were grateful that your husband rants about a topic once his invested, or else you would have never fallen asleep. you awoke hours later. the sun was setting and his colone lingered in the air. you opened your eyes and looked to the left to see a pink tulip and dinner with a small card along side the plate. it read:

to my darling wife, thank you for staying with me through everything. may this new chapter of our lives be as exciting as the last...

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 31: Amnestic Syndrome

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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It has been a wonderful few days.

Leo has been chillin' like a king.

Casey got a suntan.

Raph caught a hermit crab while swimming and giddily showed it off to everyone.

Donnie started (and won) a squirt gun war.

Splinter has been napping nonstop, which is not exactly different from the norm but he's happy as a clam and has 100% been enjoying the seafood dinners.

Even Draxum has benefitted from this whole thing, having been reunited with Huginn and Muninn. He's even offered them their jobs back as his shoulder pads! Or whatever it is they're supposed to do.

And, of course, Mikey is having the time of his life running free and uncontained. Leo can't remember the last time he saw him so energetic and happy; it's like he's a little kid again.

Mikey has asked to go explore the heart of the island today, and so the four brothers are off on a hike into the beautiful jungle. Raph and Leo mostly lead the way, though Mikey runs off in different directions and they change course to accommodate. It reminds Leo of when they were turtle tots exploring the sewer tunnels. Raph would always take the lead as the eldest, though Leo (headstrong child that he was) would often fight to take charge or go a different way that looked cooler. Donnie and Mikey would walk hand in hand together until Mikey's hyperactivity went into overdrive and he'd start hooting and hollering and race up and down the tunnels excitedly. Leo would go chasing after him in a game of tag, Raph would cry because he was afraid they'd get lost, and Donnie would remain unconcerned. Ah, what good times they had...

Leo notices that Mikey had gone off in a certain direction not too long ago, but now can barely hear him. Scratch that, he can't hear or see him at all.

"Mikey?" Leo calls out. "Where are ya, bud?"

Donnie instinctively looks down at his wrist tech. Raph starts walking in the direction that Mikey's gone off in. He walks past the brush and flora...

Mikey comes bounding out of the bushes and pounces on Raphael, causing him to yipe in fright and topple over. Leo yelps at the literal jumpscare, but his fright turns to uproarious laughter at Raphael's face. Donnie smirks to himself and mumbles something along the lines of "I knew he was there."

Raph lays on the ground, gasping for breath as Mikey sits on his plastron with an enormous grin, tail wagging happily at the prank's success. Leo is on the ground cackling.

"Okay, okay, you got me," Raph sighs, picking Mikey up and off of his chest. "You can stop laughing now, Leo."

Leo, in fact, does not stop laughing for five more minutes.

The four press on.

Leo has to hold onto Donnie's arm for support after all that laughing. Dee isn't such a huge fan of that, especially with all the heat and humidity from the tropical climate. But he seems preoccupied. Leo happens to glance over and catches him looking at his wrist tech again.

"What are you doing?" Leo asks, leaning over to get a look for himself.

"Just checking something."

Leo notices several colour-coded icons.

"The trackers?"

"Yes. Since we are on a remote island and Michael has a tendency to just go running off when excited, I have been making sure that I know where he is at all times."

Leo looks back up at Donatello's face. His drawn-on eyebrows are furrowed, a crease on his fivehead and a stare of intensity in his eyes.

When Mikey first went missing, Dee would just stare at the tracking program and reupload new lines of code, debug it, update it, even turn the program off and then on again. He sat at his computer for an entire day, trying to understand what had happened. It worked fine for a few hours after Raph and Leo had reported Mikey MIA. But then, suddenly, it flickered and died out. Donnie didn't speak for the entire rest of the night, only staring at his screen and trying to get it back online. Leo had tried talking to him about it, But Donnie remained adamant that his tech and his ninpo were unparalleled. It would have taken massive voltage or some kind of mystic EMP like what the Krang had to deactivate it.

....Now, thinking it over, and after they'd discovered Mikey's altered DNA and the fact that he'd experienced severe electric charges, it began to make sense as to why the tracker was deactivated.

But it was like Donnie had said before -- it wasn't just deactivated, his tracker was removed. And though Leo and the others had considered it an invasion of privacy, Donnie's subdermal trackers came in handy more often than not, and Leo had found it was Dee's way of showing them that he cared about them all deeply. Not being able to know where Mikey was, or if he was alive... terrified him. Terrified all of them.

All that to say, Leo understands perfectly well why Donnie has been checking the trackers as often as possible.

Leo lets go of Donnie's arm, walking side by side with him.

The hike -- while being almost unbearably hot and through thick jungles -- is actually quite fun! Even with Mikey's occasional jumpscare pranks on the three.

Donnie goes into nerd mode, analyzing the flora and taking samples for later.

Raph is having fun chasing after Mikey and playing games with him. Mikey's memory issues and slight confusion make it seem like he's much younger than he really is, and Raph has missed being able to baby him like this. Some part of Leo thinks this might become an issue later on, but for the moment, Mikey is happy to have fun and Raph is happy to reminisce on days when his baby brother used to play with him like this.

And Leo is just happy to enjoy this time with his brothers. Even if he's constantly getting trampled by Michelangelo.

Speaking of which, Mikey is due for another jumpscare any minute now. Leo is on guard, listening for the little hunter. Mikey's inherited crazy impressive instincts from the added DNA. He somehow knows how not to make a single sound when moving, even in the tall grass and thick roots. He's fast, too, like blink-and-you-miss-it fast. You usually don't even realise he's stalking you until you're face-down in the dirt with him giggling on your back. Leo looks around cautiously for him. He sure is taking his sweet time...

Raph starts checking behind ferns and large flowers.

"Gee, he sure is hiding pretty well this time. I can't see him anywhere!"

Leo starts looking with him, checking the tree limbs to see if he's going to do another aerial ambush. But he can't see him anywhere.

"How does someone covered in neon yellow polka dots get so good at camouflage?? It's like he's not even here!"

"...That's probably because he isn’t, Nardo."

Leo and Raph turn to Donnie, who is looking down at his wrist tech.

"Mikey is several meters away from us. He ran off five minutes ago and has been stationary for quite some time. I suggest we go looking for him. The fact that he hasn't moved for five minutes is mildly concerning."

Leo and Raph follow behind Donatello as he leads the way towards a small clearing. Donnie pushes aside a group of monsteras, revealing a tiny river and waterfall hidden within the jungle. Large and exotic flowers grow around the clearing, almost fencing it in. The riverbank is made from volcanic rocks -- glassy obsidian and smoothed pumice and shimmering gabro. Leo and Raph ooh and awe at the scenery.

"Mikey is somewhere in here," Donnie says, looking around. "According to my GPS, he should be right around -- yipe!!"

Donnie yelps as he stumbles forward, nearly falling into a hidden pit just in front of them. The pit is obscured by the grass and alocasias growing around it, almost covering the opening completely. And to top it off, there is a short but unexpected drop-down from the area around the clearing, like an unexpected stair.

Both Raph and Leo grab Donnie by the shoulders and yank him back. He glances back with a grumble.

"What island has a secret hidden pit lying around?!"

From deep within the pit, they hear a chirp.

"Mikey!" Raph calls, stepping around the pit and looking down into it. "Is that you?"

"Hi, Raphie..."

"Are you okay?" Leo shouts.

"M'fine, just stuck."

"Stuck? Stuck how?" Leo asks, peering into the pit.

He can see Mikey sitting at the bottom of the pit, hands and feet doused in mud and muck. He looks awfully embarrased.

"Can't you just climb out?"

"Tried," Mikey answers. "Too slippery. Rocks are too wet an' slimy, Mikey just kept sliding on the mud!"

"Well, this is the time when I reiterate why we should always bring our mystic weapons with us when hiking," Donnie grumbles, crossing his arms.

"It was just a walk in the jungle! It's not like we were going to fight anything! Why bring them?" Leo refutes.

"Oh, I don't know, in case Mikey falls in a hole and we need to A: make a portal to get him out, B: Use giant elongated hands to lift him out, or C: create impossibly futuristic tech to get him out!"

"Okay, Einstein!" Leo growls. "It was just a suggestion! You could have actually brought your bō, I wasn't gonna stop you --"

"Can we stop shiftin' blame and get to helpin' Mikey already?" Raph yells, grabbing the twins' attention.

"Right right right," Leo stammers. "Well, Donnie actually gave me an idea! We can't really use our ninpo without our magic weapons, but you know who can?"

"…Mikey?"

"Exactly!" Leo says with a smile.

He leans down and calls into the pit.

"Yo, Mike! Just make a mystic chain and climb out!"

Mikey stares up at him, cocking his head in confusion.

"How?"

"Y'know, with your... mystic abilities? Your ninpo?"

"Whazza ninpo?" he asks.

Leo swallows. Both Raph and Donnie exchange glances.

"It's... it's like a superpower you have. It's a part of the family, you can do all kinds of cool stuff! Your ninpo is usually making these cool glowy chains... though, you were starting to do some new things, too... B-but, just try making a chain," Leo says, rambling awkwardly.

"How do I make a chain?" Mikey asks, slightly annoyed. "I can't make anything down here!"

"No, not like make it with your hands -- Make it with your mind!"

"My mind?" Mikey asks incredulously.

"Sorta, I'm not sure exactly how your mystic abilities work -- but for me, I usually just think of where I want to go and the portals take me there. Just try concentrating. Think about family, that might help. Your ninpo is powered by our family bond!"

Mikey stares blankly at Leo, as if he just told him his spots were purple and not yellow. But... Mikey trusts Leo, so...

He concentrates. He thinks hard.

"...Nothing's happening."

"Just keep trying!" Leo calls down. "I believe in you!"

Leo believes in him. Mikey trusts Leo. Family bond. Think about family. Make a chain. Concentrate...

Mikey's spots start flickering.

He squeezes his eyes so tight he gets a headache. He balls his hands into fists until the claws dig into his palms. His muscles tense.

"Woah, Mikey, don't hurt yourself! You're gonna give yourself a hernia or something --"

Mikey barely hears him. He growls and grunts and groans, blood vessels in his forehead popping from the effort as he tries.

He can't let them down. He can't let them know the truth. They're his FAMILY. Just... just... FOCUS!

Mikey's markings flicker once more... twice...

Something bright and glowing golden starts to form... shapes, materializing like dust in the air.

Think about family. Think about family. Think about --

Think about how you are not a part of their family anymore, no matter how hard you try to deny it.

Mikey's markings dim, the light goes out. The chains decay before they ever take solid shape.

He sighs, slamming his fists against his thighs in frustration.

"I-- I can't do it. I don't know how!"

Leo, Donnie, and Raph each look at one another.

"...Okay, Mikey. It's... it's okay, we'll get you out another way. Hey, Raph! Don! I think I saw some vines on our way in, let's try those..."

The three Hamato brothers leave Mikey alone in the pit. Alone with his thoughts. With his failings. With only his Instinct.

The trio are back within moments, having collected several vines and bound them together to create a rope for Mikey to climb up on.

They cheer when he emerges, but Mikey doesn't meet their eyes. The cheers simmer down, replaced by an awkward silence.

"So... Mikey," Leo sighs, placing a hand on his little brother's quilled shoulder. "I think it's time we had a talk..."

.

.

.

Mikey cleans the muck from his lower half before talking. He rubs the mud out from between his toes and talons, digging under his fingernails and doing his best to get himself presentable for the talk.

He's stalling. They all know he's stalling.

But Mikey has been dreading this conversation since the day they got him back from the labs.

Mikey's feet dangle in the stream, playing in the gentle flow of water. He wishes he could just stay here and stay quiet, never have this talk. It feels different from a scolding. Mikey doesn't mind scoldings, he's used to them from the labs. Though, his brothers are much nicer about their scoldings than the scientists were. But this isn’t a scolding, he can tell. It's something worse. It's a confrontation… As Mikey is marinating in dread and river water, Raph comes up behind him and rubs his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy? Ready to talk yet?"

Mikey shakes his head no.

"Do we hafta talk?" he whispers.

"I think so," Raph whispers back. "This is important."

"I didn't mean to do bad," Mikey says softly, pulling his knees close to his chest. "I tried my hardest! I really did! But... I-I couldn't do it."

Raph hums in response. He's not sure what to say.

"...Don't feel bad about that. You tried really hard, I saw. We just... wanna help you figure this out, okay?"

Mikey takes a deep breath and exhales loudly.

"Okay."

Mikey takes Raphael's hands and shakily stands up, his big bro helping him to walk normally over to where the twins are waiting.

"Hey, Angelo!" Leo greets with a nervous smile. "You all cleaned up?"

Mikey nods, sitting himself down, just outside of their circle. They don't let that slide; both Raph and Leo scoot out to make him a part of their formation.

"Great. So, uh... I guess you're all wondering why I called you here --" Leo starts.

"Skip the jokes and get to the point," Donnie interjects.

"Yeesh, tough crowd! Okay, okay. Look, Mikey, we've noticed that you've been... uh, how shall we say... acting oddly around us."

Mikey swallows. He tries not to let his anxiety rise any more than it already is.

"Odd? U-uh, how?"

"You threw away your chucks," Leo lists.

"You couldn't recall our names," Donnie adds. "And I've seen the way you react when we call you 'Angelo'. I suspect you don't know your full name is Michelangelo, and not simply Mikey."

"And April said you asked her why she cares about you, or why she didn't look like us if she was our sister," Leo reminds him. "And you reacted weirdly when Dad showed you our family photos."

"You also didn't recognize Draxum," Raph contributes to the list. "And you don't remember what the Prison Dimension or the Krang are, do you?"

Mikey thinks about bluffing. But his lack of response betrays him. He sees Leo flinch and go pale at the mention, Donnie shudders and squirms. Even Raph's body language shifts. But Mikey doesn't get it. He's caught.

"Casey talked about the future, and you had no clue. You get confused by inside jokes or references, and I'm pretty sure you have no idea that Dad is actually Lou Jitsu."

"He's who?!" Mikey asks, though it takes a moment for the memory of who Lou Jitsu is to process.

"See, that's what's concerning us," Leo exclaims. "Mikey, we don't mind that you're confused, but... you aren't telling us the whole picture. And what happened with your ninpo kind of confirms what we've been suspecting for a while now..."

Mikey's head buzzes loudly. He feels ill.

"Mikey... you don't actually remember us, do you?"

His eyes sting, blurring over. He hyperventilates, he can't catch his breath. His hands clasp onto his skinny arms, his legs fold close to his chest, his tail wraps around him. His limbs trap him in a cage, the spines and spikes and quills stand on edge to protect him from the panic attack. His brothers The others try to calm him, but Mikey can't hear anything over his weeping and wailing.

Mikey rocks back and forth, feeling like he might vomit. Raphael places a hand on his shoulder. Mikey screams, swatting the hand away in a panic. Mikey stammers and stutters, not even sure what he's supposed to be saying. He wants to convey how scared he is, how hard he's trying to hold it together, how bad he feels at letting them down, the terror he has at having been caught in the lie. But all he can hear himself say is 'please please please' and 'sorry sorry sorry'.

Hands take his own. Mikey looks up and blearily sees the colour purple.

"Mikey. Can you hear me?"

Mikey nods. It's hard to breathe. He doesn't say it out loud, but the deep and desperate gasps he's making are obvious indicators.

"Focus on me, okay? Follow my lead. In one --" Donnie makes an exaggerated inhale, posture arching. "-- out two." His exhale is loud and exaggerated, his stature relaxes.

Mikey tries to repeat him. His breathing is sporadic, he feels like he's failing him at the most simplistic of things--!

"Hey, hey, focus on me, right? Just focus on my voice, on my breathing. In for one, out for two."

Mikey follows his lead, eyes locked onto Donnie's.

"There we go. In for one, out for two. In for two, out for four. In for four, out for six..."

Donnie and Mikey do the breathing exercises until Mikey's lungs find a rhythm. He calms, hiccups and suck-ups following suit, but they slow soon enough. Donnie manages a tiny smile, an attempt to comfort. He pats the ground around Mikey's knees.

"Mikey, can you tell me what you're sitting on?"

Mikey looks down.

"G-grass...?"

"What do you smell?"

"Fl-flow-wers...? M-m-m-mud. W-water, s-sea water...! R-Raph..."

He hears Leo chuckle.

"Name three things you can see."

Mikey glances around.

"M-Mikey sees you... sees brothers... um, sees trees? And stream... is, is that three?"

"Yes, that's three. You're doing great. Now, can you tell me how we got here?"

"W-walked here. Mikey ran, f-fell in a pit..." he starts crying again. "I-I couldn't get out, I couldn't do the --"

"It's okay, stay present with me," Donnie soothes, rubbing his thumbs over Michelangelo's hands. "Just stay focused on the present moment."

Mikey sighs, tries breathing again. Stay present. Stay focused. Okay...

Donnie talks to him, asking simple and easy questions, such as 'what do you hear?' and 'what colour is the sky?' and 'can you taste this?' after handing him a honeysuckle. Mikey calms down quickly after that.

The other two sit at a respectable distance, making sure not to overwhelm him. After some time, and Donnie's calming techniques, Leo crawls towards them.

"You okay?" he asks cautiously, reaching out to hold Mikey's hand.

Mikey nods and hums a 'yes'.

'Sorry,' he signs. 'Got really scared.'

'That's okay,' Leo signs back. 'We didn't mean to freak you out. Just wanted to talk about it.'

"Can we still talk about it?" Raph asks gently, looking Mikey over. "I mean, if you're okay with that."

Mikey nods, crawling into Donnie's lap for comfort.

"Mikey ready..."

"Okay then," Donnie sighs. "Mikey, we need you to be honest with us so we can be sure to take proper care of you. How much do you actually remember?"

"Mmmm... not a lot," he whimpers. "Mikey remembers a few things... small things. L-Like random moments."

"That would be the brain sauce Draxum made doin' its thing," Raph nods.

"But other than that..?" Leo asks.

"But… o-other than that... Mikey can't remember anything before the labs," he shamefully admits.

"Mikey, why didn't you tell us?" Donnie questions.

"Scared to," he whines. "Didn't want to admit it, didn't want to disappoint you... Y-you all love Mikey so much, and I don't... I don't know why... I don't know who Mikey is, and I just... I wanted you to... be happy. I wanted to be Mikey for you."

Mikey feels Donnie wrap his arms around him and press his face against his head. He's shaking. Leo scoots in and hugs the two of them together. Raph joins in last, his arms just barely long enough to engulf them all.

"Miguel... we want to help you get better, we want to help you remember everything --" Leo states.

"B-but what if I c-can't?" Mikey sobs.

"Then we'll love you regardless. If you never remember us, or yourself... then that's okay. I mean, it'll suck, I won't lie. But it won't be like we've lost you. You're still here, you're just figuring out who you are again. And we'll help you."

"But I-I didn't want you to know!" Mikey wails. "I didn't want to tell you that I wasn't Mikey anymore! I wanted you to love me, I wanted to-- to-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Donnie pulls him tighter.

"Mikey... I do love you. Whether you remember me or not. Whether you remember yourself or not. I will always love you."

Mikey sobs and clutches the others his brothers tightly.

"Mikey... there's something we need to tell you, too," Leo sighs. "Something we probably should have told you earlier."

Mikey looks up at him anxiously.

"It's about your DNA."

Mikey nods slowly, prompting him to go on.

"Well... when we got you home and Donnie did the scan, we found out what you were mutated with. It was... a lot."

"Specifically it was jaguar, basilisk lizard, boa constrictor, baboon, mandrill, and proboscis monkey," Donnie interjects.

"Thank you, Brainiac Unlimited™ for that one."

Mikey nods again, seemingly unfazed for the most part. Leo wonders if he's still processing it all, or knew the information beforehand, or... maybe just doesn't care? He mentioned doing lots of tests at the labs, so he probably already figured he had multiple creatures' genetics inside of him now.

"Well, Donnie left out one crucial piece of info..." Leo mentions.

"Leo, I still don't think it's a good idea," Raph murmurs.

"We want him to be honest with us, we need to be honest with him. He has to know."

"Know what?" Mikey asks curiously.

"Leo is referring to how your DNA was primarily mutated with Krang," Donnie blurts before Raph can intervene.

The four are silent as Mikey processes.

"...So?"

"The Krang still don't mean anything to you?" Raph asks. "Not ringing any bells?"

Mikey thinks.

"You said something about Krang at the junkyard," he recalls. "And Casey mentioned them a little. The lab people talked about them, too. But I don't really know what they are..."

"They're aliens," Leo explains. "They're very dangerous aliens. They tried to invade Earth several months ago, but we fought them."

Mikey's eyes widen.

"Am... am I an alien?"

"Part alien," Donnie clarifies. "But we still consider you 100% Mikey."

"Dangerous aliens... you fought them... I-I remembered Leo said --"

Mikey pauses, eyes bulging and breath quickening as the realization hits him like a train.

"Prison Dimension. Did... was that because of the Krang? Of me??"

"No!" Leo says, unintentionally shouting as he grabs Mikey by the arm. "No, no! That was not you! You didn't do that, the Krang... the Krang didn't even do that, actually, it was --"

Leo sighs.

"...It was my choice. The Prison Dimension was made to hold the Krang inside, but they got free because of me. My stupid ego and my dumb mistakes. A-and... the only way to... I had to do something, and there wasn't any time to think of a better solution, and so... so I...."

"You portaled yourself and the Krang into the Prison Dimension and had Casey trap you both inside," Raph finishes.

"Yeah," Leo says, swallowing as he shakes. "That."

Mikey stares at Leo, eyes popping out of his head. He'd mentioned the Prison Dimension, he'd shows his aversion to it, and Mikey had even remembered scenes where he and his family dealt with the aftermath of it all. But... he didn't expect this. He didn't expect it to be because of monsters.

"...How did Leo get out?"

"You did that, actually," Leo chuckles. "With your ninpo."

"Mikey did that?" he echoes, looking around for someone to deny it. "With the ninpo?"

"Yep. Your mystic powers were growing, and Casey told us that you became the most powerful master of magic in the future! You didn't let that tidbit go, and you kept trying to make magic portals the whole time we fought, even though our mystic abilities were nullified by... the...Krang..."

Leo's voice trails off. The four exchange glances.

"The Krang had some kind of supersonic screech that deactivated our ninpo. Could it be that..."

"Is that why I can't do the ninpo anymore?" Mikey asks. "Because I'm... Krang?"

"I-I don't know, but it's a theory," Donnie suggests. "We'll talk to Draxum and Papa about it. We'll figure it out."

Mikey pauses, looking down at his hands. his claws.

"The Krang are evil... right?"

They don't answer, but their silence speaks volumes. Mikey looks up at them, trying to meet their eyes.

"Do... do you hate me because I'm Krang now?"

This is why I said it was a bad idea to tell him.

He deserves to know! And it might be tough, but --

"You dum-dums do know you're not talking and it's making Michael uncomfortable, right?" Donnie scolds, cradling Mikey a little closer.

"Oh!" Leo snaps back. "No! No, Mikey, no, of course not! Look, we were kind of nervous about the Krang DNA, but only because we weren't sure how you'd deal with the news."

"And I was concerned about the ramifications of modifying mutant DNA with alien genetics, but yes. Emotional stability was in question," Donnie adds.

"But you are not a monster just because you have alien DNA now. You're still our Michelangelo, and we still love you."

"...You love me now...."

Mikey remembered the conversation he and Leo had the other day, and how Leo had said he'd love him if you were a worm, or a regular turtle, and if he were a monster. Leo finished his little declaration by saying 'I love you now', and Mikey had found the wording strange. Not anymore, now he understood what Leo meant. He's a monster now.

And Leo loves him now, just as always.

Mikey cannot understand this. But he accepts it for the moment, resting his head against his brothers and just… stays here. Trying to understand why they don't hate him, why they keep trying to convince him he's not a monster when the evidence is starting to stack up against him.

But Mikey just accepts it. He'll understand it later.

.

.

.

The scientists have been very interested in Mikey's control of the human covered in pink parasites. They've been doing a lot of tests and examinations.

He's not required to move or do anything. He sits and lets them do what they want. They look him over, poke and prod him, lift his scales and scutes and quills. A doctor shines a light in his eyes, giving Mikey a headache. Another pricks him with a needle and syringe. They take his blood again. They take a skin sample again. They take a saliva sample again. They do everything three times over, again and again and again.

Mikey feels numb.

His mind wanders, helping him escape this room and find some semblance of serenity as he waits for these tests and exams to be done. He's so bored and tired. But compared to everything else they make him do here, this isn't so bad.

Mikey's attention comes back to him when he hears someone talking loudly by him. He flinches, thinking that he's being scolded or ordered to do something, but no. It's just Dr. Timothy getting enthusiastic over his mutations.

"I just can't believe it! The creature can control the zombies!"

"This is unprecedented. And I'm quite surprised, I've never seen Dr. Chaplin so intrigued and... dare I say?" Dr. Finn pauses. "Excited."

"This little abomination could hold the key to ending the Krang infections once and for all!" Dr. Timothy celebrates.

"But why stop there?" A third voice adds.

Mikey flinches again and cowers softly as Dr. Chaplin walks in and joins the conversation.

"This little mutant monster shows a higher success rate than any creature the TCRI has ever cooked up before. And it takes orders so well," he says with a sickening smile.

Dr. Chaplin reaches down and grabs Mikey's face, squeezing his thin cheeks and tilting his head to get a better look at him.

"Despite its age and emaciated figure, the little beastie has unprecedented strength and fighting ability. Just what we've been looking for. I do think our tests are nearly complete."

"Complete, sir?" Dr. Finn asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He's shown excellence in everything thus far. Problem-solving, keen instincts, agility… I think it's time we move onto the next phase of our studies. The A.L.P.H.A. device is ready for testing, put him in the Interaction Room when you're done. Depending on how it goes, we may be able to move on to..."

Mikey zones out again. He's tired of this. He doesn't like being handled or tested or talked about like he's an 'it'. He's a Mikey! Whatever that is…

Mikey feels heaviness around his throat, followed by a yank. The collar and lead were placed on his neck while he wasn't paying attention. He's dragged back to the Interaction room for the test with this strange new 'A.L.P.H.A. Device'...

.

.

.

Mikey can't sleep. He keeps thinking about what happened earlier that day.

He can't shake the feeling that... something is wrong. He's missing something. His brothers love him, despite knowing that he doesn't remember them. They support him, despite knowing that he may never fully be Mikey again. But... why does he feel so distant? Why is he still so scared to be around them, but so much more scared to be without them?

In the labs, he never knew why he wanted his brothers. He never even knew they were brothers, they were more so figments of imagination, a distant mirage that he could almost touch. They were shadows. And now they're real.

So why can't he accept them? Why can't he accept that he's one of them?

Because you're a monster. KRANG, Instinct whispers. You are a KRANG. It is what I am, what YOU are. What WE have become.

...Are Krang monsters?

To the weak, yes. The weak always view the strong as monsters.

So Mikey really is a monster?

Did you doubt this? Instinct questions.

Mikey hoped...

HOPE IS A FOOL'S WEAPON, Instinct scolds. YOU CANNOT SURVIVE ON HOPE. ONLY STRENGTH AND FORCE. THE KRANG ARE STRONG. THE KRANG SURVIVE. YOU WILL DO AS I SAY AND YOU WILL LIVE.

Even if it makes Mikey a monster?

Does it matter?

Mikey doesn't know anymore... h-he wants to believe it does, he wants to believe he's not what Instinct says he is, he wants to believe that he is their Mikey!

Even if you were once "their Mikey", it hardly matters now. You are simply an amalgamation creature made to serve a purpose. The humans created you to be a monster. Too bad they couldn’t remove the ALL THE MIKEY FROM YOU.

Mikey throws the pillow over his face and screams into it. Stop talking, Instinct!

You know it is true. And your "brothers" confirmed it for you. Even THEY KNEW you were a monster. Why do you continue to fight this truth?

"Because I'm not a monster!" Mikey whisper-shouts, sitting upright and flinging the pillow into the wall. "I'm not! They said I'm not!"

You DO know what a lie is, don't you?

"But... but Mikey trusts Leo--"

Why? Haven't you learned by now? I thought you would have known better. The labs taught you nothing.

"Shut up!" Mikey shouts.

Weak, pathetic, useless, coward --

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Mikey screams, hot and angry tears running down his face.

Mikey tears his bed apart, shredding the blanket and ripping the extra pillows to pieces. He growls loudly, looking for something else to attack in lue of Instinct. He punches the mattress, his tail whips the wall and gashes the wallpaper, he grabs one of the lamps on the nightstand table and chucks it, pieces shattering and the lampshade flying off from the impact. In the flickering light from the dying lamp, Mikey sees something move in the corner. He runs and confronts it --

It's his own reflection in the mirror. Teeth snarled and fangs elongated, his claws extended, his quills raised and his tail spiked. His eyes burn brightly and the irises are nothing more than thin blood-red slits.

Mikey jerks back suddenly, terrified of his own image. His pupils and irises return to normal slowly…

You see? Nothing more than a monster. Accept it.

Mikey screams in anger and punches the mirror as hard as he can. The glass shatters instantly and his knuckles bleed.

The door swings open and nearly smacks into Mikey's back.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Raph asks in a panic, scanning the trashed room before he sees Mikey, shying away with embarrassment.

Raph calms, then panics again when he sees the blood and glass.

"Sorry," Mikey squeaks. "I got... I was mad, I..."

"Leo and I heard yelling and thought --"

"It was just me, sorry. I didn't realise I was being so loud... Instinct was making me mad."

"The voice in your head?" Raph clarifies.

Mikey nods.

"Humph. Well, I don't like this voice bullying my little brother. Come on, Mikey, let's get you cleaned up."

Raph hoists Mikey up and carries him to the bathroom. Mikey perches atop his shoulders again, tail wrapping around and hanging lazily over his shell.

"So, what was Instinct saying?" Raph asks.

"Um... just the usual stuff."

"Which is?"

Mikey's fingers curl nervously.

"Just... stuff about... fitting in, I guess."

Raph places a hand on Mikey's head and rubs circles onto his skin.

"I'm sorry about that..." he sighs. "I'm sorry about a lot of things..."h

Inside the bathroom, Raph sets Mikey down on the toilet seat and grabs the supplies he needs -- disinfectant, bandages, some swabs, cream, etc. Mikey holds his paw out for Raph to inspect.

Mikey is actually surprised by the gentleness of his big brother. Raphael's huge, strong hands are slow, soft, delicate; carefully pulling any remnants of glass out with a pair of fine tweezers. Mikey winces initially, but stays still otherwise. This is starting to remind him of the labs... he zones out as Raph tends to his cuts.

"...Mikey? Mikey," he hears.

Mikey blinks back to reality. His hand is bandaged.

"Oh, hi Raph," he murmurs. "Thanks."

"No problem, that's what big brothers do. Now, can you tell me why you punched the mirror?"

"I was trying to punch Instinct..."

"So, because you couldn't punch a voice in your head, you punched a reflection of yourself?" Raph surmises. "Makes sense."

"I know it sounds stupid..."

"Not really," Raph shrugs. "I used to do the same thing."

Mikey looks up and slowly recalls moments from his childhood where Raph would get so frustrated that he'd obliterate things with a single punch. Walking into bathrooms where the mirror had been cracked and taped over in a feeble attempt to fix it or cover it up.

"...Really?"

"Oh yeah," Raph says with a nod as he leans against the wall. "Raph had a hard time not listening to intrusive thoughts, and they make him really angry. I used to get so mad after Savage Raph would attack you guys. Do you remember Savage Raph?"

Mikey does, actually. Flickering images of his biggest brother growling, his eyes whited over and his teeth bared. Barbecuing villains in a sewer tunnel, attacking his brothers, calling them 'sewer monsters'.

"...Yes, Mikey -- I remember." Mikey looks up hopefully at him. "How did you stop it?"

"I can't say I've stopped it," Raph admits. "I still have moments when I almost lose control, times when my thoughts start to turn against me. But I've learned how to fight against those thoughts, take them captive before they take me captive."

"Why can't I do that?" Mikey asks.

"You can, though!" Raph assures him brightly. "Mikey, you're the one who taught me how to do that!"

"Mikey did that?"

"Yeah, bud!"

"But... I can't remember, I don't know..." Mikey pauses to think, before looking up hopefully at Raph. "Will you teach me again?"

Raphael smiles and cups Mikey's cheek.

"Absolutely. That's what brothers do."

He's not your brother anymore.

"Shut up!" Mikey growls, squeezing his eyes closed, and pressing his knuckles against his temples.

He feels Raph lift his face up. He gently opens his eyes and looks at Raph's concerned expression.

"What did Instinct say?"

"...That we're not brothers..."

"Well, that's 100% a lie," Raph says. "So just tell him that."

"But he'll fight back --"

"Then you fight back, too!" Raph encourages. "Say it out loud. Tell him he's wrong."

Mikey swallows and feels a little embarrassed, but he follows.

"Y-you're wrong."

No.

"Now tell him he's a liar."

Mikey fidgets.

"You're a liar."

What are you -- why are you listening to him? He doesn't know what he's talking about --

"Tell him you won't listen to him anymore."

I'M THE ONE WHO KEPT YOU ALIVE!

"But Instinct --"

"No, Mikey. You can't listen to him anymore. He's not helping you, he's not doing anything for you. He only wants to confuse you and hurt you. So what do we do with things that lie and hurt?"

"...We get rid of them?"

"Exactly. So tell him he's not welcome anymore."

NO!

"You're not welcome anymore, Instinct."

DO YOU REALIZE HOW STUPID YOU SOUND?! DO YOU KNOW HOW RIDICULOUS --

"And every time he tries to talk again, every time he tries to lie or make you feel bad, you ignore him. Confront him. He only tells you lies, so you can always defeat him."

Mikey nods, determination bubbling up inside of him.

"Instinct isn't welcome," he annouces.

Stop this.

"Louder!" Raph encourages.

You fool --

"Instinct isn't welcome!"

YOU CAN'T --

"Even louder, buddy!" Raph shouts.

YOU WRETCHED LITTLE --

"INSTINCT IS NOT WELCOME! MIKEY IS NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO INSTINCT ANYMORE!!"

It's quiet.

"...I... I think I did it," Mikey heaves. "I think I... I think he's gone! I can't hear him!"

Raph cheers with Mikey, and pulls him into a bear hug.

"I knew you could do it! And if he ever tries to weasel his way back in, just tell him off and tell him what for! And remember, he'll only tell you lies to make you feel bad. But they are NEVER true. And you can use that against him."

Mikey squeezes Raph around the neck as he laughs. He feels... free. A strange kind of freedom, one he hasn't felt even after leaving the labs.

It feels good.

"So... now what?" Mikey asks.

"Now we go to bed," Raph yawns, prompting another laugh from Michelangelo. "Though, your room is kinda trashed now, so you probably shouldn't sleep in there..."

"Turtle pile?" Mikey suggests, going into puppy-eyes mode.

"Absolutely," Raph nods, hoisting Mikey back onto his shoulders and taking him out and into their brothers' bedrooms to get them all together again.

Prev || Next

[devskindawritingblog]

Hey! Can I request adult misty quigley x fem reader? And also can they kinda have an age gap? (Teehee)

Basically Misty obviously has a thing for needing people to want her and need her and feel important so her very codependent partner comes up with a way to make her feel better by letting Misty treat fake injuries on her? Like idk putting ketchup on her arm and misty bandaging her up and all that to keep herself feeling sane

Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

Bandages

Older Misty x reader

AN: hiiiii im so sorry this took so long. I’ve be busy with school and stuff in my personally life but it’s finally out yay. Misty’s text is in yellow I think that’s the colour I originally picked for her. Divider made by @arachnid-wife

word count rounded: 1k

You and Misty first met when your grandmother lived at the nursing home that Misty worked at. You would visit your grandmother once a week. Misty was usually the nurse that helped with her, so you would see her often.

The both of you got very close, so close that you would go out for coffee together every other weekend. It was mostly about your grandmother, but after a while, the conversations turned flirty. You would spend more and more time with her. Soon, she finally asked you out. You went on a few actual dates with her. After a while, you made it official with her. She asked you to move in with her and Caligula. You accept, of course. That was a few years ago, and after all that time with Misty, you started to notice little things about her.

The first time you started noticing was when you accidentally cut your finger while chopping something with a knife.

You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and chatting with Misty. You guys were going to have a holiday party with the yellow jackets. You and Misty were chatting and making jokes when you looked over your shoulder, and that's when you felt it. A sharp, searing pain in your pointer finger. You wince and gasp, turning back to see your finger. You drop the knife and lift your hand. 

“Oh my gosh!!!” Misty rushes over and grabs a towel, wrapping your finger in it as you let out a huff in pain. “Fuck.” You sigh, groaning, as you lean against the counter.

You ended up having to go to the hospital to get it stitched up. Misty offered, but you were not going to let her sew up your finger at the house. You ended up being alright, and the party ended up actually happening, but instead you ordered some pizzas.

Misty spent the next few weeks keeping you in a bubble. Feeding you even though you cut your non-dominant hand. She would basically do anything for you if you needed to use your hands. She would check on your stitches every day and help clean them.

You really don't mind that she wants to take care of you. In fact, it's quite fun having her do things for you because she won't even hesitate. You want a glass of water? She’s on it. Food? Right away. Misty even spent a week helping you get dressed.

After your finger fully healed, you would notice a slight change in Misty. She wanted to keep helping, but there was nothing to do anymore. She felt like she was unneeded. You decided to talk to Misty one night while cuddling on the couch.

“Hey? You alright?”

“ Wha? Oh yeah, I'm alright, most alright ever." Misty says it sounds obnoxiously cheerful for someone who was pouting because you didn't need help making yourself toast this morning. You look over at her, giving her a smile that says, “I know you're not alright.” 

“It's, well, you know, I really loved taking care of you and feeling like I was useful.” 

“You're my girlfriend, Misty; you don't need to be "useful." I love you.” You say, kissing her cheek as she smiles back. “I know, but I guess it's my love language to help and to make you better.” She says she is pulling you into her arms and giving your healed finger a little kiss. 

“How about this? I'll let you patch me up and “nurse” me back to health whenever you want.”

“But I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

“What if we just pretend? You know, bandage up my fake cut or whatever else you want to do. If it makes you feel better, I really don't mind.” Misty's eyes light up, and she pulls you into a kiss.

From that day forward, it became just part of the two of you. Sure, it's an unusual way to cheer her up, but you don’t really mind. It always goes the same way: she “comforts” you and gives you kisses. Then she “disinfects” your “cut” and puts on a patterned bandage on it before “kissing it better." Misty claims that it's the most important part of the whole process.

One day Misty came home from work upset; it was just a very stressful day, and she needed to come home and see you. You're in the kitchen cooking after Misty finally lets you touch a knife without intense supervision. You hear the front door open and yell out. “Hi baby, how was work?” You say, looking over your shoulder to catch her taking off her jacket with a silent huff, not like herself at all.

She walks into the bedroom without saying a word and changes out of her scrubs. You put down whatever you were doing and follow Misty into your bedroom. “Hey? Baby? You ok? Bad day?” You ask, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug. “Long day.” Misty mutters, relaxing into your arms.

You pull away and smile softly. “I got a scrape on my knee earlier, babe, Wanna help?” You ask, sitting down on the bed and rolling up your pants to show her your perfectly fine, unscraped knee. Misty raises a brow. “There is no scrape on your knee, babe” Misty says, a little confused. 

“What? Misty? My knee hurts. Can you patch me up?” She finally smiles as she lets out a sigh. She understands what you're trying to do, and she grabs her little med kit. Misty kneels next to the bed, rolling up your pants until your knee is fully exposed. She grabs a little alcohol wipe and rubs it on your knee. 

“It might sting a little, babe.”

She grabs some bandage wrap, lifts your knee a bit off the bed, and wraps your knee up snugly. She finishes and gives you a little kiss on your bandaged knee. “All better, you get hurt a lot; you gotta be more careful.” You both smile and laugh a little as she pulls you into a kiss.