#Donnie wants nothing to do with him but might possibly warm up to him over time

[daboyau]

I was watching lilo and stitch and that “you can never belong” scene came on and I got this idea in my head for that, but with ROTTMNT. So since I don’t do edits or draw, I wrote it out instead. Don’t think too hard about the logistics. :)

It is cold, when Leo slips out of the lair. He can feel Mikey’s gaze on him as he leaves, raising goosebumps over his flesh. He can’t bear to turn back, knowing that his resolve would crumble immediately if he did. His footsteps are too loud in the loneliness of the sewers. His heartbeat pounds in his head. He keeps expecting to hear a voice calling out for him, or the soft sound of footsteps following him. 

But of course it never comes. Mikey had been so hurt. So sad. Of course he wouldn’t follow him. 

When Leo finds a portal into the Hidden City, he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself through it despite the danger it puts him in to be there. The sounds and the sights are familiar to him, yet nowhere calls to him as loudly as the lair had. It’s only been two weeks since he was first brought into their home. They hadn’t even wanted him there, and yet the urge to go crawling back is so strong. He had messed everything up from the moment he’d manipulated his way into their lives. Of course they wouldn’t want him. 

(Why don’t they want him?)

Leo wanders the back alleys and the side streets, letting his feet guide him to nowhere in particular. The picture he had swiped on his way out of the lair is stored safely in the pouch tied around his waist, and between steps he’ll reach in to slide his fingertips over the stiff paper. Just to make sure it’s still there. It soothes him.

He doesn’t stop walking until he’s far outside the city, tucked away in the scraggly rock forests that surround the Hidden City. The aching in his chest has turned into more of a twisting knife, the small knot of sadness becoming more like a gaping chasm. An open wound. A bottomless pit of longing and loneliness that he had never felt before he forced his way into the lives of the Hamatos. 

He hadn’t had anything to lose, before. He hadn’t known the kind of pain that loving something would bring. He wishes he could go back to not knowing. He wishes he could return to a life of never having to make the choice to walk away, to spare them all the pain his existence brings them. 

Leo settles on the ground, curling into himself, shoulders trembling under the weight of everything. When he closes his eyes, the image of Mikey’s face as Leo made his choice haunts him. Donnie’s quiet voice rings in his ears in the silence of the forest, you ruined everything, again and again. Raph’s soft squeeze on his shoulder lingers like a phantom. Leo trembles, tucking his knees to his chest. Then, he pulls the photo out. 

Raph, Donnie, and Mikey grin up at him. It’s almost mocking, how happy they look here. A reminder that they are better without him around. He hadn’t seen them smile like that since the first five minutes they’d found him, back before they learned the truth of how much of their lives he can ruin. 

He runs a careful finger over those smiles, then he squeezes his eyes shut and holds the photo against his chest. His throat burns, and the ache in his chest feels like a black hole that will swallow his body whole. He does his best to breathe through the pain and when he opens his eyes again, the light speckled ceiling overhead is blurry and indistinct. It reminds him of the stars they had taken him to see, wind tickling his skin as they sat on the rooftop of the tallest building of their strange human city and stared upwards at something beautiful.

“Lost,” he whispers to the open air, and he can almost imagine that single word floating upwards, towards the city and the sewers. Finding its way into the only place he’s ever found that might have one day held happiness. But only for him. Not for them. There was only danger if he stayed.

“I’m lost,” he repeats, words like some trouble confession, and hot tears roll down his cheeks.

Some small, selfish part of him hopes they’ll hear. He wants them to come for him, and to bring him back home. It is a stupid, foolish wish. It’s better for everyone that he stays gone. He can’t hurt them this way. 

He falls asleep with tears drying on his cheeks, and body curled tight around the only evidence he holds of a dream he knows can never be. 

When he wakes hours later, it’s to the sound of heavy footsteps over gravel. He jolts upright, heart pounding, eyes wide, and for one foolish, terrible moment he really believes that his family has come for him. 

But no. Of course not. When Draxum emerges with a weapon pointed at his head, Leo can’t find it within himself to feel surprised. He stares back blankly, shifting slowly to stand, halfway wishing that Draxum would just take the shot and get it over with. He doesn’t think he has the energy to raise a hand to defend himself. 

The gravel has left his legs peppered with indents and marks from where they’d pressed into his flesh as he slept. They sound like something breaking as they shift and crunch beneath his feet. Draxum’s eyes dart between those markings and Leo’s tear streaked face, before his expression twists into something complicated. Almost pitying. 

“Don’t run,” he says, voice low. If Leo hadn’t heard what true kindness sounds like these last couple weeks, he would have said that’s what he hears in Draxum’s tone. “Don’t make me hurt you. You were difficult to make. No need to ruin a perfectly acceptable specimen.”

Leo shuffles, eyes darting between Draxum and the stacked stones surrounding them. He makes a sound low in his throat, hurt and uncertain, but he does not bolt. Draxum smiles, already assured of his victory, and steps closer. Leo watches with wide eyes. 

“Yes. Yes, that’s it,” Draxum murmurs, careful and soft, like he’s trying to soothe a scared animal. “Come quietly.”

“I…I’m waiting,” Leo admits, and he watches Draxum’s brow crease. His head tips, curious. He’s not used to this side of his creation — quiet, yet resisting his orders. Leo shuffles a half step back, heart pounding so hard in his chest that he feels a little dizzy. 

“For what?”

“For…for my family.”

“Aahhh. There is no use in doing so. You don’t have one. I made you.” 

Leo shakes his head, hands trembling, photo creased from how tightly he is clutching it in his fist. The thought of ruining the only evidence he has hurts, but the fear of Draxum getting his hands on it, of him finding out about the others, it terrifies him in a way he’s never felt before. He can’t let Draxum know about them. 

“Maybe…maybe I could—“

“I don’t know what yokai fool you found, or what nonsense they’ve been filling your mind with, but banish the thought of family from your mind.” His voice has lost that careful, gentle farce. It is harsh and cutting now. A familiar sound that Leo had hoped he’d left behind forever when he ran away. “You are built to destroy. You can never belong. Now, come quietly and we can begin your reeducation once—no! No no, don’t run, don’t—!”

His voice fades as Leo darts through the towering stones, vines curling at his heels and snapping at his shell as Draxum tries to recapture him. The picture flutters from his fingertips as he trips, lost amongst the shadows of the stone forest. Leo sobs, but he does not turn back for it. It is better if it is lost; at least then, he may be able to move on. 

[tmnt-tychou]

Hey friend!

So, I was curious if maybe, possibly, I could get something with how each turtle cuddles with his crush. Like, he's hopelessly smitten with her but is terrified to risk his friendship with her by asking for more. How would that impact how he cuddles with her? It could be a drawing, a story, HCs, however inspiration strikes. If it strikes with this ask at all.... I know its rather vague.... I just want turtle cuddles in my life right now. 🤗🤗🤗 Thank you!!!!

My dear friend, I have failed you. You sent this to me so long ago. Please accept this humble, very late response. I am assuming you are referring to the Bayverse turtles as this usually seems to be your jam. All four of them like physical touch. And they will absolutely be down for snuggles because you are soft and warm and you smell good. But they are all very different about how they go about getting said cuddles and how they react to it. Mike: Serial cuddler, both platonic and romantic. He just likes to be near the people he cares about. Even if he's not romantically interested, he's still fine with standing or sitting so close that you touch. He will often do it if he perceives you need some psychical comfort. Or if he needs some. Not shy about hugging, though he will often ask first at the beginning to make sure you are okay with hugs, and okay with hugs from him. If you are down, you will get lots of hugs and lots of cuddle movie nights on the couch.

If he's interested in you romantically, you're practically going to get a giant turtle in your lap. He wants to be connected to you at all times. And he is not subtle. If he likes you, you'll know pretty soon. It's obvious to everyone. And he will lay on you or you on him during movie nights and lots of sleep overs. Plenty of churrs no matter where you're at. If you're touching him, he's churring to let you know he loves your touch.

Donnie:

Donnie's favorite mode of touch is to stand behind you and rest his chin on the top of your head. That's how you know he likes you. Friend only, he'll do it briefly to tease you. If he's interested in more, he'll stay a bit longer. As long as you'll let him. Turn around and you'll get tucked into his lean chest with his chin tucking your head in. He likes physical touch, but he doesn't need it. Touch him at any time, he doesn't mind. If you're not big on touching, he doesn't mind that either. Since he has a random sleep schedule, he will often nap while leaning on you if you end up sitting next to each other on the couch. If he's interested in you romantically, it starts with naps in his bed. You will be caged in by his long limbs while he snoozes. Shell scritches will get you churrs.

Leo:

For Leo, even the most innocent of touch is intimate. He's not a touchy turtle. He has to TRUST you before he will initiate contact. You know you're in when he gives you a gentle, friendly shoulder bump. Usually joined with a bit of teasing or encouragement.

If he is interested romantically, you'll know. He won't touch, but he will be close. His presence will touch you even though his skin is not. He will just be around. Protective, attentive. He will want to be in private the first time you really touch. Even if it's still nothing too intimate. Touching your face or holding your hand. He needs time to settle into it so be patient with him. Once he is comfortable, he will still mostly touch you in private. He will want to hold you close when you sleep together. If not lay on top of you. If he lays on you, he's feeling protective and you might not be able to get up until he is ready to get up.

Raph:

Raph is touchy from the beginning. He doesn't mind casual physical touch. He'll bump you with a shoulder or hip or give you a light bump with his knuckles. Maybe even muss your hair while he's teasing you. Rough, playful touch he knows. You can touch him back casually and he doesn't mind. But when you touch him with care he can get a little unsure and embarrassed. Especially if his brothers are watching. If he's romantically interested, he wants to take some time to explore this privately first. And he will be letting you do most of the touching. He knows how to roughhouse, but he's afraid he doesn't know how to be gentle. Be patient with him and give him some time to get used to gentle touching, both receiving and reciprocating.

He will do this thing where, when you're sitting, he kneels in front of you and tries to put his whole massive top half in your lap while he hugs you around your waist. You might get him to churr a little if you give him shells scritches when he does this. Raph doesn't cuddle too much when you sleep together. He's afraid he's going to squish you. You can sleep on him, but he's not as comfortable sleeping on you.

[thisbarbiereallylikesbirds]

Bedtime - A @tmnt-write-fightWrite Fight Attack

mwahaha get attacked @yellowhollyhock

check out the fic on ao3!!

Bedtime in the Hamato household was an…ordeal to say the very least. Attempting to wrestle four hyperactive toddlers into their beds was itself a struggle. But keeping them there? All his training, all the years in the Battle Nexus, nothing could have prepared Splinter for that challenge. But, over the years he'd developed strategies, routines, and a fair amount of tricks to assist him. On good nights, the boys would get the rest they needed. And if he was very, very lucky, he might even get a few hours of sleep himself. 

Tonight was not one of those nights.

The chaos, as always, had started not too long after dinner. Though they offered protection and; maybe best of all, were free, the sewers did little in helping the boys stay clean. So, to keep them from smelling so bad that even their brothers started to notice, daily baths were a must.

Unfortunately, baths took much longer than any of them wanted them to. It was nice that after fighting for hours to get Purple to eat his dinner, he was more than happy to get into the tub. Red and Blue were too, though it was clear that neither of them liked water as much as Purple did. Splinter assumed it had something to do with their turtle species. He’d done some research in the early days to try and figure out what kind of turtles they’d all been before they were mutated. Purple, Blue, and Red were all semi to fully aquatic. Orange was a different story.

No matter how fresh and warm the water was, or how many bubbles and toys Splinter would fill the tub with, Orange would kick and scream like he was being murdered the moment water touched him. On several occasions Splinter had attempted to explain to his youngest that the baths wouldn’t take half as long if he’d just stop struggling, but little Orange didn’t seem to care one bit. 

This particular night had been one of the worst ever. After a particularly long and tiring day, Splinter had hoped that Orange would be too tired to put up much of a fight. Oh how wrong he’d been. After being splashed with so much water it looked like he’d been the one taking the bath, Orange had been wrapped up in a towel and sat in front of the space heater that Purple had built months ago. 

“Okay, boys,” he said, patting his face dry with a towel. “Bedtime.”

Blue was first. There was absolutely, positively no way that he’d be the first to fall asleep, but over the years Splinter had learned that it was better to start the cycle of him waking up and complaining that he couldn’t sleep as soon as possible, and hopefully get it over with at the beginning of the night.

Luckily, Blue allowed his father to tuck him into his racecar bed without much of a fuss, and after bidding his family goodnight (all individually, as he always insisted on doing), he allowed his dad to shut off the lights and continue into the next room.

Next was Orange. In addition to getting Blue’s complaints out of the way early on, sending him to bed also helped get Orange to sleep. Orange absolutely hated the idea that he was being left out of anything. So going to sleep first had always infuriated him. But if there was one thing that would override his insistence on being included, it was copying his brother. To Orange, anything Blue did was the coolest thing ever, even going to sleep early. But, of course, that trick didn’t seem to work tonight.

“I’m not sleepy,” Orange insisted. It was a lie. He hadn’t been able to stop yawning and rubbing his eyes since dinner. And with how fussy he’d gotten, it was clear that Orange was completely drained from the day.

“Just lay down for a bit,” Splinter insisted, tucking another stuffed animal into bed beside him in hopes that it would bribe him into staying put.

“I’m not sleepy,” Orange repeated. “I want to stay up and play with Raph and Donnie.”

“They’re going to sleep right after this,” Splinter explained with as soft of a tone as he could manage. No matter how many times he went over this, Orange always seemed to think that after he was tucked in, the rest of his family would scamper off to go play some fun game 

Splinter sighed. “What would make you tired, Orange?” 

He considered this for a moment, his tiny eyebrows scrunching together. “A cookie?”

“Sugar would make you tired?”

“So sleepy,” Orange said, grinning and nodding his head.

Splinter sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”

A cookie, a glass of milk, and a second tuck-in for Blue later, Orange finally allowed himself to be put to bed.

Of all of his sons, Purple was by far the easiest. He didn’t even need to be tucked in. Splinter would just guide him to his room and knew that he’d climb into bed and turn off the lights all by himself. Which was good. Because around this time was Blue’s second appearance.

“Still can’t sleep,” he informed his dad helpfully.

“Have you tried?”

Blue stuck out his tongue.

“Try again.”

As easy as Red was to put up with during the day, night time was a different story. It was clear that his oldest had some problems with worry. Whether it was from being the oldest, or just something that was a part of him, Red seemed to fear that everything could hurt his brothers. And often, if it didn’t spill over during the day first, he would wait until bedtime to voice all of those fears to his father.

“Mikey is really little,” he said quietly.

“Well, he is three,” Splinter responded, pulling the Ghost Bear comforter up to his son’s chin.

“If there was quicksand, he’d fall into it really fast,” he said, voice breaking. His eyes began to water.

“There isn’t any quicksand in the sewers,” Splinter assured him.

“And he wiggles around so much too,” Red said. “It would just take a second and he’d be gone!”

“We’d pull him right back out.”

“But what if we were stuck too,” Red said.

Splinter sighed. This was shaping up to be a long night.

Finally, after assuming Red that each of his brothers would be safe if the Lair were to suddenly flood with quicksand, water, or (for some reason) venomous snakes, he managed to pull himself away and shut the door behind him.

It was still way too early to go to sleep himself, and despite how tired he was, Splinter refused to return to his room just yet. Instead, he returned to the TV room and turned on a telenovela.

A few minutes later, during a particularly dramatic scene, Splinter heard a tiny gasp from beside him. Turning down to look, he saw Blue’s tiny face illuminated by the TV.

“What are you doing up?” Splinter asked.

“I. Couldn’t. Sleep.” he said, clearly just as tired of answering the question as Splinter was of asking it. His eyes flicked back to the TV screen as the main character delivered a slap across her mother-in-law’s face. “Can I watch?” he asked.

Defeated, Splinter pulled him up onto his lap. “You can listen, while you try to sleep,” he said. “Now close your eyes.”

An episode and a half later, Blue had finally drifted off. Splinter’s hand absent-mindedly rubbed the back of his son’s shell as he looked down at his sleeping form. 

It was true that bedtime was…a struggle. But, if they went to sleep as easily as he sometimes wished they would, they wouldn't get to spend nearly as much time together. And they wouldn’t have moments like this. Moments with just one of his sons. Moments where he thought maybe he was doing an okay job being a dad.

Things would get stressful again tomorrow, they always did. But chaos was a part of his family. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[mistigrisunshine]

spuffy fic rec

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

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[mythicalninjas]

How about their S/O taking a kitten to the Lair out of planning? He/She found a lost kitten wandering alone in an alley, its mother and siblings weren't even near. He/She didn't want to leave that kitten by its own and decided to adopt it. What do you think?

A/N: Awwww thank you for ask this, anon 😭❤ I wrote an one-shot with all of the turtles. Hope you don't mind... After months FINALLY. Apologize if there are grammar mistakes.

Warnings: I'm sensitive when there's cute animals included in the stories. SFW, lost cute fluff life being receiving some love.

"Alright. I'll be there in 10 minutes." You announced, smiling.

The eager young voice on the other side of the call echoed a little louder than usual. "Perfect! We're waiting for you, angelcakes!". You could hear someone else taking the phone from Mikey and Raph's voice spoke next. "Come quickly otherwise Mikey gonna eat all the dinner."

"Hey!", Mikey protested in the background.

You laughed. "Don't worry. I'll stop by your home like The Flash."

As soon as you left your apartament, the cold air of the night hit your exposed skin. Instinctively you rubbed your hands together, then cover your nose and mouth. The dark sky isn't with its shining lights spots, looking like it's going to snow anytime.

Walking by many large blocks, you finally entered in an alley where Donnie has mentioned to meet him at. There's almost no light sources around, as you expected. Something told you to take a look at your surroundigns to make sure there's no one who might be someone unwanted.

Nothing at all.

You shrugged, heading to a manhole cover a few steps away from you.

You were about to grip the heavy metal, but that strange 'something not right' feeling hit you again. You hesitated, sighing. What's going on with you? You've been at many alleys since you met the mutant family and you're already used being sorrounded with darkness. There's nothing wrong here. But why is your intuition saying otherwise?

You shook your head, and lifted the cover.

Meow. A high-speech sound echoed from somewhere, making you freeze and turn your head toward the sound.

You frowned.

MEOW. The sound came louder than before. Is that a cat?

You stood up, twirling around, trying effortly to find anything making that desperate small sound.

Meow, meow, meow.

"Where are you?" You whispered while follows the help call of the cat. It sounds like a very young kitten.

Over there at the entrance of the alley behind many filthy stuff, a small fluff ball shrunken against an old tangled fabric.

You gaped, moving away a trash bag and a bunch of rubbish spreaded over the ground near the kitten. ''Oh my God. How did you get here?''. You warmed your hands as much as possible and carefully picked up the small kitten, which it started to meow agitatedly. ''It's okay, little one. I'm not gonna hurt you.'' The poor kitten had its fur chilly. You unziped your coat and held the kitten against your chest, then immediately covered it. Using the free hand, you rubbed over the thick fabric, warming up the life creature under the mushy material. ''Shh, shh...'' You bounced back and forth while look around, searching for other cats.

There's nothing but dirt and scary gloom spots.

'Where are its mother, or its sibligns? It's common to find cats in clowder, or a kidle of kittens...'

Worried, you glanced down at the poor thing, wondering how long has it been on its own.

☆☆☆☆☆

Donnie's current checking some devises on his computers as he does every night before patrol. The time shown in the lower right corner of the screen called his attention. He quirked an eyebrow. You're 25 minutes late... Rolling his curved skateboard chair to another heaped of screens and checked the cameras settled throughout various tunnels, a pair of amber eyes scanning every single spot of the many underground environments. A sigh of relief left his mouth as watch you walking toward the Lair.

He got up from his seat and headed to the main entrance. ''Y/N!'' He called as soon as his eyes set on you. ''We were worried. Where have you been?''

''I apologize for the being late, Don. I promise your waiting will be rewarned, but now ...''

The genius lift an eyebrow. He did notice that your arm was inside your coat, he thought you could be hurt or anything.

You took a deep breath, carefully unzipping and removing the coat flap, showing it to your tall friend.

His eyes went wide, mouth gaped.

''Listen, this little guy needs help. I found him all by its own on my way here.''

Donnie kept his eyes on the tiny life being, his mind and heart shining from cuteness. ''Oh. Please, let me...'' He reached out to pick up the kitten, but you took a step back, hesitated. His hands are massive comparing to the kitten. What if he accidentally hurts it? The kitten is so small and fragile. You don't want to see anything going wrong, but you knew Donnie needs to check on it.

You looked down at the kitten then gave it to the tall terrapin, who picked up the kitten very carefully as if it was made of glass. The kitten started to meow restlessly as soon as his cold hands touched it.

''Donnie, he-''

''I know. Heat some water and pour it inside a bottle, I'll find a place to put this little guy.'' His long legs carried him to the lab, holding the kitten in-between his hands.

The poor tiny life being is desperte to feel warm again, its eager meows makes Donnie search everywhere in his computer center for something fluff to serve like a blanked; anything. His amber eyes clued on a dirt dish towel perched on a thin pipe above a few chemicals stuff on the table. No way he would use it on this kitten. Whatever he's looking for must be soft and clean.

Pouring some hot water inside a bottle, you felt unconfortable of hearing the kitten's cries from a distance. It must call someone's attention, though.

You turned, but almost ran over something, I mean, someone. "Damn, Mikey! Warn before suddenly show up."

"Sorry, angelcakes. Just wanted to say hi." He smiled, and glanced at the bottle. ''Were you making tea or something?''.

''No.'' You hurried past him. ''Donnie asked me to take some hot water for the kitten-''.

Mikey gaped. ''A KITTEN?!''.

''Yes!''

"What's going on here?" Raph jumped off from the gym large pipe.

"Y/N brought a kitten and didn't tell us!" Mikey protested.

The brute glanced at you. "Oh, cool. But we don't have properly ways to take care of a cat, Y/N."

"I know. Actually I didn't bring the kitten with this thought. I found him alone in an alley on my way here. He was alone. I couldn't just ignore its cries and abandon him out there."

Meow, meow, meow, meow. Adjusting some Raph's wool knitting inside a shoe box, Donnie, with all care he has, put the kitten above the soft fabric "I know, I know little one. You're cold." He petted its head.

"Donnie." You called from the computer center entrance with Mikey and Raph standing next to you. "I brought the hot water you asked for."

"Perfect. Thank you." He moistened the tip of a towel and carefully gave the kitten a ''bath'', cleaning the dirt gooey mess. ''Alright... Clean like a pure white cloud.'' He grabbed the shoe box and brought out of the computer station. "Y/N, I need you to put the hot water bottle under the wool knitting and cover the kitten. I'll be right back."

☆☆☆☆☆

''What's going on here?'' Leo questioned, authoritative. Mikey and you moved random ways to give him some space to pass by and ascertain. His vivid blue eyes caught a small kitten being fed in a bunch of Raph's knits. ''Who... Who did bring this cat to the Lair?''

You gotta confess that you're a bit afraid to admit it. Leo sounds he did not approve the small guest. You slowly rise your hand. "I know it was sudden, Leo. But I found him all by its own in an alley on my way here. He was freezing and starving. I couldn't left him behind." The leader kept his full attention at you. You continued. "He could have died." Your shoulders dropped.

Leo looked back at the kitten, kneeling right beside to where it is layed. He carefully patted it while watch Donnie feeding it with a seringue. "Do you know how old is it?" His eyes were on you again.

"A few weeks, I believe." Donnie spoke before you.

You nodded. "I agree. It is so small."

"And cute." Mikey completed.

The kitten finished its dinner and yawned, stretching its little paws, tiny pink bean toes opening like a flower, then adjusted itself into a ball position in-between Raph's knits, ripping an "aww" from everybody. The boys are sad for don't have conditions to keep a kitten; it's pratically impossible to look after a small life being in this giant envorviroment.

"I think I gotta put my heart in the fridge."

Raph glanced at him. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Because it's melting."

Three pair of eyes rolled simultaneously. "Jeez, Mikey..." You shook your head.

"What? It's true."

🐱💕

@mysticboombox @thelaundrybitch @chicchanmooshy @turtle-babe83 @feminist-krang @buc3t4l0v3r @turtlesmakemehappy @minniethecutie @tmnt22 @yumefuusen @leosgirl82 @whispers0fgreen @whygz @angelicdavinci @imthegreenfairy88 @waterstar2016 @southernblossoms @fyreball66 @thelostandforgottenangel @ositabear26 @ravn-87 @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @ladyofparchments @donniesdove @pheradream15 @angelcatlowyn

[oleander-nin]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart(Rise! Raph x Reader)

3777 words of complete and utter nonsense. I've never written for Raph before, so I hope I did well

Summary: Your heater broke down in the dead of winter. Hopefully Raph won't mind you hanging out with him for the time being.

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

My eyes flutter open as a chill runs down my spine, the heap of blankets paired with my warm pajamas not doing enough to fight against the cold. I shuffle a bit in my bed, trying to get comfortable again so I could fall back asleep. Winter has taken hold over New York, and the cold was finally starting to creep into my apartment. With my heater being busted at the moment, there was nothing I could really do except try and tough it out through blanket nests and warm foods. The company apparently can’t send someone to fix it until Friday, so waiting it out is kind of my best option. I glanced over at the digital clock that sits snugly on my nightstand, the bright and bold numbers flashing the unfortunate time of 3:22 AM staring me down, serving as a constant reminder of my inability to get some rest. 

I shift under the covers once more, avoiding the cold spots created by the lack of body heat. It’s times like these I start to regret letting Leo borrow the heated blanket I bought a couple years ago. Guilt starts to pile up in my stomach for daring to think that, as I know he must have it worse right now. Even though they are warm blooded, all the turtle brothers tend to be more susceptible to both hot and cold than the average person. Lending Leo my precious heated blanket was a noble sacrifice I had to make if it means he’s getting through this winter a bit easier. Too bad I’ll most likely never see it again, stupid blanket stealing jerk.

My eyes finally start to droop as the drowsiness kicks in a bit more, my mind bouncing from Leo’s blanket thievery to Donnie’s recent invention to Raph’s kind nature, and the serotonin that came with the final thought was starting to knock me out once again.

I came to realize my crush on the giant snapping turtle about a year after we met, and he’s been at the forefront of my mind ever since. Even if his tall stature was a bit intimidating at first, his personality proved to me that he was just a giant teddy bear. A teddy bear with built in spikes, a dash of violence, and separation anxiety, but a teddy bear no less.

I lay my head against my arms, shifting the cocoon of blankets around me to try and keep the heat inside so I could stay warm. Feeling my body giving into the fatigue that held it in its grasp was comforting, and I hoped I could sleep till the sun’s up. Constantly waking up to a dark room was starting to make my overactive mind run through the possibilities of ghosts, demons, and murderers that might be in my room with me. 

My eyes shoot open as I hear my phone start ringing, the familiar tune cluing me in to who’s calling. Raph. I launch my arm out of my warm blankets and aimlessly feel around for my phone. The cold of the room starts to seep into the opening my arm makes, and I grit my teeth at the unpleasant feeling.  My hand finally feels the slick rubber of my phone case, and I quickly yank it back into my makeshift warmth pocket. I answer the call as I put the phone up to my ear, grinning giddily as I greet the snapping turtle on the other side.

“Um, hey. Sorry to wake ya’,” he starts, and I note the grogginess and nervousness that seems to seep into his voice. “I know it’s late, but I was wondering if ya’d like to come over? I had a nightmare, but don’t wanna’ bother any’a brothers right now, they haven’t gotten much sleep as of late.”

I smile softly at his words, knowing the double meaning behind them. He had another nightmare about the Kraang, and he doesn’t want his brothers to see that he’s still suffering. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a second. I’m assuming I can go straight to your room, or do you want me to meet you in the living room?” After the Kraang invasion, Raph’s been having nightmares, and I appreciated that he trusted me enough to ask for help.

“Kitchen, actually. I’ve started making some hot cocoa, and I’m not too keen on drinking it anywhere else. A bit worried I’d spill it, and most cleaning supplies are in Dee’s lab.”

“Okie dokie, I’m heading over now.” I hang up the phone and take a glance around my room. Turning on the flashlight function on my phone, I get up and stretch a bit. The cold air washes over me like a tsunami, and I curl into myself a bit. I almost forgot about the cold while Raph was calling, and it’s taking its revenge by ravaging my body with shivers.

I use the flashlight feature on my phone to help guide me through my room, and I turn on the light once I reach it. I rapidly blink a couple of times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light faster. Once the world is a bit more clear, I trudge my way over to my closest. I really don’t want to have to change. Raph won’t mind me showing up in PJ’s, right? I mean, it is 3:30 in the morning, so it can’t be that weird. Making up my mind, I grab my jacket and put it on, throwing it over my shoulders as I turn off the light and head to leave my apartment after grabbing my keys. I really hope no one else is awake.

I speed walk down the dimly lit hallway, glancing over my shoulder as I go. The apartment I lived in was relatively safe, but one could never be too sure. Hell, the 2 guys that lived next door got mugged last week. Sure they were across town leaving a pub, but one could never be too cautious.

Leaving the apartment complex, I quickly head for the alley a couple blocks away. I knew there was a sewer hole there, and I wanted to get down to the lair as fast as I could, the cold was killing me. I inwardly cheer as I make it to the sewer plate, mentally patting myself on the back for not getting jumped. Not that I actually did anything, but still, it’s the little things.

Checking to make sure no one's around, I take the robot I got from Donnie out of my pocket and set it on the manhole cover. As manhole covers can weigh up to 250 pounds, Donnie gave me and April these little robots that open them for us. It will forever impress me how the turtle brothers lift them without assistance. Leo loves to hold it over my head how easily he can pick up the plates of steel and concrete, constantly making fun of me for not being able to do the same.

Once the cover is removed, I grab the robot and make my way down, putting the robot back onto the plate so it can close it. I take my phone out as the robot works and put on the flashlight. It gets really dark once the lid closes, and I learned my lesson the first time I tried to climb down in the dark. Turns out, it’s really hard to climb back up a ladder with a broken arm. 

The robot dings and I pluck it off the cover. Sticking it back into my pocket, I slowly make my way down the ladder, trying not to fall. When I reach the bottom, I lightly tap the concrete with my foot. Stepping in a puddle would really suck, and while sewage doesn’t drain through here that often, any water down here is really gross. 

Satisfied with the dryness, I fully step down. I use my flashlight to guide me once more, muscle memory taking over. It was around a 10 minute walk from the alleyway entrance to the lair, but Mikey painted the entire way with little graffiti drawings so I would have something to look at while I visit. 

Once I enter the lair, I head straight for the kitchen. I could see better now that I reached the lair, so I finally turned off my phone’s flashlight. Hopefully it wouldn’t die considering I forgot my battery pack in my rush to get here. As I entered the room, I could see Raph sitting at the island, his red onsie on and his retainer sitting next to him. He was sipping on a mug of what was presumably hot chocolate, and there was a second one next to him. Raph sends me a warm smile as I grab a stool to sit next to him, both of us wincing at the noise it makes when I drag it across the floor.

Raph slides the other mug over to me, and I eagerly take a sip.  Holy moly Raph makes a good cup of hot chocolate, and this was just what I needed to warm me up. The lair was considerably warmer than everywhere else I had been tonight, and I wanted to stay here as long as possible.

Raph takes another long sip of his hot chocolate before he breaks the comfortable silence that settled between us. “Sorry to call ya’ so late, I really ‘preciate ya’ comin’ t’night.”

“Having nightmares again?” You look over at Raph, his mask was off so you could see the scarring around his eye. It was a miracle he could still see out of it. 

Raph nods, staring down at his mug and watching the chocolate drink swirl. His leg was bouncing pretty quickly as he chewed on his lip. I wanted to ask what was wrong, see what was bothering him, but he beat me to it.

 “Do ya’ mind sleeping over t’night? I’d ‘preciate the company. We could hav’a slumber party in the projector room, or just hang out in mine. Whichever makes ya’ more comfortable”

I scan Raph’s face, noting how he’s not meeting I gaze fully. Feeling relief that the main thing bothering him was just the shyness of asking his friend to sleepover, you shoot him a big grin. 

“Dude, I’d literally love that,” I say, shifting in my seat to face him more. “My heater broke, and it’s actually warm here. You’re gonna have to drag me out kickin’ and screamin’.”

Raph finally meets my gaze, brows knitted together making his quote-unquote “Raph chasm” grow larger. “Are you okay? How long’s it been broken? Do ya’ know when it’ll get fixed?”

His rapid-fire questions stun me a bit, I didn’t expect him to care so much. Maybe he likes me back? Is this hope? A sign? I slightly shake my head, trying to shoo the thoughts out of my head. It’s Raph, he cares because his heart’s too big and I’m his friend. That’s it. That has to be it. Right? 

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s been broken for about a day, and the repair dude said it’d take about a week for them to get out there and fix it.” I swirl the rest of the hot chocolate in my mug, frowning slightly when I see just how far down it’s gotten. 

“A week? Isn’t that dangerous? Dee said it’s gonna get pretty close to zero around here soon.” Raph frown deepens and the creases in his forehead grow. I notice his leg starts bouncing once more, the growing worry clearly eating him up.

“Yeah, I’m not too sure what I’m gonna do. So far, the blanket cocoon idea isn’t working the best.”

“You could stay here.”

My head whips over to look at Raph, searching his face for any sign of deception or lies. “I really couldn’t, you guys have your own stuff to deal with, and I don’t want to impose.”

Raph sighs as he leans back on the stool, hanging onto the lip of the island with his hands while he stretches. “I get your anxiety about being a burden, really I do, but you know we care about you right?”

Raph shifts in his seat so he could look at me properly, putting his hand on my shoulder and waiting for me to meet his gaze before continuing. “You’re not a bother, you’re not a burden, and you’re always welcome here. We care ‘bout’cha, and I sure don’t want you to freeze. If anyone says anything about you staying here for the week, I’ll personally have a talk with them, ‘kay?”

My face warms at his words and I just nod my head dumbly, hiding my face behind the mug I continued to sip on. Raph seems to accept this as an appropriate answer, smiling warmly at me before patting my twice on the shoulder and turning back to his normal sitting position. We continue to sit in a semi-comfortable silence as I wait for my face to cool down again. This was not helping my crush on him at all.

I set my mug down gently, stealing a glance at Raph as he tips his head back to finish off the rest of his drink. I smiled a bit at the sight, the red giant’s tail was wagging slightly, obviously being pleased with the way his cocoa tasted. The worst he could say was no, right? That’s what everyone says? If I confess right now, maybe he’d go easy on the rejection. I take a deep breath and steel my nerves. 

“Hey Raph?” Raph’s head turns towards me, his deep eyes putting their full attention on me. “I want to tell you som-”

My words were interrupted by a spoken “GASP”, and I deflate as Raph’s attention turns towards the offending voice.

Donnie marches in, phone in hand as he stomps and spits all over my attempt to finally admit my feelings to Raph. I vaguely notice that he has yet to change into his pajamas, but I was more focused on the eyebags showing around his eyes through his mask. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

 “Holy Galileo, is that HOT CHOCOLATE? And you never even offered me any!? Raph, my brother I am OFFENDED!” 

I giggle a bit, my mood lighting up a bit. Donnie really can be amusing when he wants to. Although, I’m not too sure he’s aware of it. 

Raph rolls his eyes at the young pouting softshell, slightly amused by his dramatic outburst. “To be fair Dee, I thought’cha were sleepin’ already. Y’know, like your s'posed to be.”

Donnie falters a bit before perking back up, obviously reading to make his case on why he should be allowed to be awake and drinking hot cocoa, “You cannot turn this on me, no sir. Last I checked, you’re supposed to be asleep too, but you’re still up. And with THEM!”

Donnie accentuates his last sentence by dramatically pointing his finger at me like I was an enemy soldier on a warfront. I loudly slurped the rest of my cocoa, watching Donnie's eyes twitch at the sound. I smile a bit into my cup, proud that I was able to get a slight rise out of the turtle. Raph rolls his eyes once more at his brother's antics, pushing back his chair to stand up properly.

“One, I called Y/n in the middle of the night. This is an apology/bonding hot cocoa. Two, you’re supposed to be asleep. However, I am willing to make more if you want some, I'm running low anyway.” Donnie eagerly nods at Raph’s words, fishing down a mug for himself while Raph starts to busy himself with finding the big cocoa powder tin. He looks over at me, holding the tin and slightly shaking it in a silent question to me. I grin and nod excitedly at the notion, pushing my mug towards him slightly as I mutter my thanks and pleases.

Raph hums as he pours water into a saucepan along with sugar, cocoa powder, and a small amount of salt. Donnie pulls up a stool and sits next to me, his mug in front of him while he plays on his phone in wait.

“Why are you here? It’s almost 4 o'clock in the morning.” Donnie says, never looking up from his phone. 

“Raph called me to hang out and my heaters broke anyway, so I just came to hang out.”

Donnie finally looks at me, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Why isn’t it fixed yet?”

I shrug. I didn’t really know why it wasn't, but it continues to not work. “The company that I contacted said they couldn’t send someone ‘till Friday, didn’t really give me a reason though.”

Donnie frowns at my answer, his ‘eyebrows’ knitted together in a similar fashion to Raphs. “It’s tuesday.”

“Oh wow, really? Gosh, thanks for telling me such valuable information. I will cherish it forever.” Sarcasm drips from every word I spout, and Donnie looks incredibly unamused. I hear Raph snort from next to the stove, so I count this as a win.

“Why would it take them 5 days to come out and fix your heater? That’s a 2 hour job at worst.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s what they told me. There isn’t much else I can do but wait.” I shrug, and turn back towards Raph, watching him stir in the milk before pouring the mixture into each of our cups. Both Donnie and I give a quiet thanks to Raph while he walks around to sit next to me once more.

Continuing the conversation, Donnie speaks up once more. “I could fix it.”

The skeptic look I was staring down Donnie with brightens to one of hope. “Are you serious? ‘Cause that’d seriously be so awesome!”

Donnie nods his head as he sips from his mug, obviously savoring the sweet drink as much as possible. “If you’d want, we could head over right now-”

Raph slams his cup that he was previously drinking, the loud “WHAM” making both Donnie and I jump slightly. Donnie and I both turn to look at the snapper, but Raph refuses to look either of us in the eye.

“Oh Raph-a-la, want to share what that was about, hmm?” Donnie and I both continue to stare Raph down, his face slowly turning as red as his pajamas.

“I, um. They don’t need it done now, plus we’re all tired, so Raph thinks they should stay here tonight. No offense Donnie, but you look like you might pass out any second.”

Donnie continues to stare Raph down, and seems to find something during his analysis. With a little nod to himself, Donnie shoots Raph a tight smile.

“Well, if you say so boss man. I’m gonna take this,” Donnie raises his mug of hot chocolate, “and head off to my lab. Goodnight you two. Come find me in the morning if you want to take me up on that offer, Y/n.”

I nod and Donnie and wave goodbye as he leaves. I hear Raph calling out his own little goodbyes, and I realize we are left alone once more.

“So…., what were you gonna say earlier?” Raph starts, taking a sip from his mug as he eyes me. “It seemed important, but Donnie kinda interrupted you.”

I freeze in my seat. I completely forgot about the almost confession that happened earlier. “Oh, that.. Um, well, I just kinda wanted to get something off my chest, but it isn’t really important. You don’t gotta worry about it!”

Raph’s eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Uh huh, sure. Y'know you can Raph anything, right?”

I shrink a bit under Raph’s gaze, my face heating up as I try to work up the courage once more. “Yeah, I know. It's just, I don’t know. I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

“Why would things become weird between us?”

Here goes. “Because I like you, like, a lot.”

I watch Raph freeze, his body grows tense and I start to panic. “Not that you need to reciprocate! I know I’m a bit weird, so I totally understand if you don’t like me back! We can totally ignore any of this happened, I can even go back to my apartment if your uncomfortable, I don’t want to make things weird between us-”

Raph puts his hand on my head, stopping my ramblings. There's a small smile on his face and the pit in my stomach grows. This is it. I’m about to get rejected and he’s never going to talk to me again. This sucks.

Raph opens his mouth and I tense expecting the worst. “Don’t worry! Raph likes you too! Like, a lot.”

What?

That’s not what I thought was gonna happen. I meet Raph’s eyes and they are filled with nothing but warmth. I melt into the hand on my head, the relief mixing with elation and I feel like I just had a sugar crash.

“You do?” I had to make sure, make sure this wasn’t some pity move to make me feel better.

Raph nods, pulling me into a hug which I instantly melt into. “Raph promises. I like you too, Y/n. I have for a while.”

“Oh.” 

I feel Raph’s body vibrate with the chuckle that escapes him. He just holds me for a bit, keeping me next to him to prove that this wasn’t a dream and I wasn’t about to wake up. The events of the day slowly catch up to me, my body demanding sleep now that all the worry was drained out of my body.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask, trying to gauge whether this was a conversation I need to wake myself up for or not.

“No, let's try in the morning. We’re both too tired to think. Do you want to sleep in the projector room, or mine?” Raph shifts me in his arms, standing up while carrying me. I was a bit embarrassed he felt the need to, but I would care more later. I’m still riding on a love high. Plus, Raph’s carrying me, I'm not complaining for the world.

“Uhhhhhhh, yours. I want to snuggle in your plushie pile.”

I watch Raph nod through half lidded eyes, snuggling into the turtles arms even more. I fell asleep before I reached the room, dreaming of all the things Raph and I were going to do together now that the feelings are officially mutual.

01.07.23

[dandylovesturtles]

honestly i would read a whole fic's worth of director's commentary about I May Be Invisible but i will settle for asking about a few scenes

This one from Chapter 12 because I just. Really love this moment:

The mountain. The desert. Feel the space between and pull them together. Tear a hole through what was possible. Pull on his ninpo, on the power inside him.

He swung Donnie’s arms in a circle.

Nothing happened.

“That’s okay. Try again, Leo,” said Raph.

Leo took a breath. Tried to feel his ninpo again. A fire, Mikey had called it. Warm and soft, protective.

He swung again.

Nothing.

“This is stupid,” he said, the frustration gnawing at him.

“Hey, don’t give up. You’ve barely tried.”

Leo wanted to snap at him, tell him he was trying, but he bit it back before the words tumbled out of his mouth. Getting in a fight with Raph wouldn’t help. It wasn't like it was his fault, anyway.

Leo breathed deep, let it out through his nose, and was about to try again when suddenly there was a crackle of energy, a purple cylinder coalescing around the hilts of his katana.

“Donnie?” Mikey asked.

He shrugged. “I thought it might help. He reached for our ninpo to break the curse, right?”

“Oh… oh yeah! That’s a good idea!”

Red danced in his peripheral vision, and then Raph was grabbing onto the swords with enlarged hands, swallowing both Donnie and Leo’s own. Mikey whipped out an orange chain, wrapping them all together.

“Better hold on, Case,” said April. Leo didn’t look back to see what they were doing, but he guessed they were grabbing onto Raph’s shell.

Leo looked down at his brother’s energies, three familiar colors enveloping his hands. He closed his eyes, and instead of reaching for his swords, he reached for them.

The way each of them had felt when he’d broken the curse. Static electricity, Mikey had said. Glitchy. Sturdy and solid.

Fire, warm and soft.

He felt it in his core first, building up and heating him from the inside out. Comfortable, familiar, powerful. It flooded to his fingertips, wrapped around the swords, filled up the spaces between his brothers, snuggling into the cracks where it was meant to be.

“Yes, Leo!” Mikey cheered.

It curled around the swords, then into them, and the blades lit up with bright blue runes, the way they always did when Leo was preparing to teleport. Leo could feel the power thrumming through them, up through his hold on Donnie’s hands and into his arms and chest and heart.

“Oh, hachi machi,” he said.

And then he sliced the swords in one wide, clear, glorious arc, and blue flooded the rooftop.

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

And of course this bit from Chapter 13 because that PUNCHED (pun intended) and the formatting just made it top notch!:

“And what is it that you want?”

“I…” (Remember remember remember.) “I want…”

The highest mountains. The deepest oceans.

New York pizza. Late night movie marathons.

No limitations. No responsibilities.

The thrill of learning something new. The pride of a job well done.

No worries. No pain. No fear.

Hugs. Reassurance. Love.

“I want the reversal spell!”

The medbay faded away.

“I see… I may have to try harder to convince you…

“You wretched

“little

“pest!”

The Krang could see him this time. It could hear him.

It could most certainly touch him. The punches were as solid as he remembered.

The Krang smashed him through the layer of rock, and he slammed into another down below. It was seconds before he was being hit again, sent tumbling through the void of space, and he really couldn’t move this time. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

And then, the scene reversed.

He was sucked back up through the cracks in the rock, until he was leaning back against a slab and staring up at the glowing red eye of the Krang’s suit.

The voice spoke.

“What do you want?”

“The reversal spell.”

The Krang hit him again.

It played over, exactly how he remembered, and he felt it - every punch, every slam, every angry scream barreling straight through his bones.

And then it reversed.

“What do you want?”

“I want to go back. Please. I want my body back!”

The Krang hit him again.

And reversed.

And hit him again.

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

and i'm sorry for this massively long ask but i reread Corrupted Upgrade again the other day and i wanna know what it was like writing this scene, like was it hard, was it fun, was it something you had in mind right from the start etc:

“Eh, that’s okay,” Raph interrupted. “Your tech just gets in the way.”

It hit him like a shock. Donnie pulled his arms tight to his plastron. “In the way…?”

“Yeeeaaah, I’m with Raph on this one,” said Mikey. “Your tech’s always shooting lasers where I’m trying to swing.”

“Or launching a rocket at our heads,” Leo chimed in.

“No, it’s helped us plenty of times! Like… like…”

“Like with the Shredder?” Mikey asked, his tone mocking.

Donnie felt the air leave his lungs.

“I’m glad we’re talkin’ about this, because I’ve actually been thinkin’.” Ignoring the critical blow he’d just dealt, Mikey turned back to the others with a smirk. “Why don’t we kick Donnie out and add someone cooler to the team?”

“How about we hold it to a vote?” Raph suggested.

“Oh yeah! Democracy!” Leo cheered.

Donnie managed to regain his voice. “Now hold on just a-”

“Everyone in favor of kickin’ Donnie out and getting someone better, say ‘aye’,” said Mikey.

“Aye!” yelled Raph and Leo in unison.

“Hey!” Donnie stomped his foot on the ramp. “I don’t know what kind of prank this is, but it isn’t funny.”

“This isn’t a prank, Dee,” said Leo, his voice nonchalant. “We took a vote, and you’re out.”

“That isn’t how this works!” Donnie took a step toward them. He could feel his muscles tensing, like he was bracing for impact. “You can’t just throw me out with a vote.”

“Well then, how about this,” Raph said, and Donnie shrank back as he stepped up.

In all his life, Raph had never made him feel so small.

“You’re out, Donnie. Leader’s orders.”

Awww thanks! I'm glad, I enjoy talking about it, haha.

The mountain. The desert. Feel the space between and pull them together. Tear a hole through what was possible. Pull on his ninpo, on the power inside him.

He swung Donnie’s arms in a circle.

I really love playing with what opening portals feels like for Leo, how he controls where they open and close and what traveling in that way feels like for him. I tend to lean on the interpretation that he needs to envision where he wants to go and and then pull on the power within himself to get the portal to go to the right place, and so it's easier for him to go to places he's really familiar with, that he can imagine clearly. It's also why when he "panic portals" he goes to weird places, like that bit in Mutant Menace where he portals them to what looks like another planet entirely - I imagine then he was just thinking "I want to go as far from here as possible" and, well, he accomplished that!

That said, the seriousness of it all is undercut a bit by the inherent comedy of Leo swinging Donnie's arms around LOL. I just thought it was a really funny mental image.

“That’s okay. Try again, Leo,” said Raph.

Love a supportive Raph in this house. Believe in the him that believes in you!

Leo took a breath. Tried to feel his ninpo again. A fire, Mikey had called it. Warm and soft, protective.

I've seen Leo's ninpo described in lots of different ways; personally I based it off the visualization we see in the movie:

I still really like the idea of Leo's ninpo feeling warm like a campfire to Mikey, and it really changed how Leo looked at it to hear it described that way, too.

He swung again.

Nothing.

“This is stupid,” he said, the frustration gnawing at him.

Leo hates being bad at things, especially when people are counting on him, especially when it's something he should be able to do. Besides all the things that could go wrong, this is also pretty embarrassing for him, which isn't helping with the stress. Of course it's not his fault, he's got a pretty big hurdle to jump here, but feelings are gonna feel.

“Hey, don’t give up. You’ve barely tried.”

Leo wanted to snap at him, tell him he was trying, but he bit it back before the words tumbled out of his mouth. Getting in a fight with Raph wouldn’t help. It wasn't like it was his fault, anyway.

Raph is just trying to be helpful, but Leo can't help but read that as Raph criticizing him, which leads to the fighting. I think he gets better at it after the movie, which is why he's able to clamp down on his immediate response here, but it doesn't stop it from getting to him a little.

Leo tends to couch his own critiques in softened language, saying things like "I love you but" or "I appreciate you but," and while this can come off as condescending, I think he would probably respond better if Raph did the same thing back to him. But Raph doesn't, probably because it does feel condescending, and so Leo feels like he's just being criticized, and fights happen.

At least that's how I see it haha.

Leo breathed deep, let it out through his nose, and was about to try again when suddenly there was a crackle of energy, a purple cylinder coalescing around the hilts of his katana.

“Donnie?” Mikey asked.

He shrugged. “I thought it might help. He reached for our ninpo to break the curse, right?”

That should really be "Donnie shrugged." Ough.

UH ANYWAY. Donnie's way of helping is to take direct action, which works a little better. And I imagine it was getting pretty weird for him to have his arms swung around without having any input in the situation, lol.

“Better hold on, Case,” said April. Leo didn’t look back to see what they were doing, but he guessed they were grabbing onto Raph’s shell.

April knew he could do it before Leo did. She knows her boys in and out.

Leo looked down at his brother’s energies, three familiar colors enveloping his hands. He closed his eyes, and instead of reaching for his swords, he reached for them.

Azzy (@/spectra-bear) drew art of this moment and included this line in the post, and I, being dumb, was like "oh wow that's really good, that's a banger line" because I forgot that I wrote it?? |'D I don't usually think of myself as being good at writing strong oneliners so seeing it out of context and being like "oh hey I did that" was kind of neat.

Anyway yeah have you guys noticed that I love the power of brotherly love and friendship? Because I do. It wins every time.

He felt it in his core first, building up and heating him from the inside out. Comfortable, familiar, powerful. It flooded to his fingertips, wrapped around the swords, filled up the spaces between his brothers, snuggling into the cracks where it was meant to be.

“Yes, Leo!” Mikey cheered.

And I also love puzzle pieces and things that fit just right. When Leo projected his ninpo, Mikey was able to feel it.

“Oh, hachi machi,” he said.

And then he sliced the swords in one wide, clear, glorious arc, and blue flooded the rooftop.

Gotta be at least a little silly in your big triumphant moment.

And since this gonna get really long, the rest will go under the cut!

For the chapter 13 part! I'm glad you liked it! I really enjoyed playing with the formatting to give it that extra OOMPH.

“And what is it that you want?”

“I…” (Remember remember remember.) “I want…”

So the entire "getting the reversal spell" arc was a relatively late edition to my planning; originally Donnie got the spell out of the fire elemental. I changed my mind around the time I was writing chapter 8 or so, but that meant I had to start ramping up the feeling that Leo was maybe starting to get into the whole "being a ghost" thing (and I think I did alright because I started pretty quickly getting comments with people worried about it, lol).

While it's not the same phrase, this is meant to be a bit of an echo to his panic attack in chapter 11, when Leo first really started considering staying a ghost instead of going back to his body.

No limitations. No responsibilities.

The thrill of learning something new. The pride of a job well done.

Of course, to consider staying like that, Leo has to be presented with something pretty enticing. I think this is the strongest one; Leo would never have to worry about feeling lacking or letting anyone down ever again. Of course, he wouldn't get the positive side of those feelings, either. Weighing the gains against the cost, it's pretty clear what he really wants.

“I see… I may have to try harder to convince you…

“You wretched

“little

“pest!”

Once I had the idea for this section, I knew this had to be in here. This is the line from the movie everyone remembers and everyone references because it's just so good, so visceral. This fic is meant to be set the better part of a year after the invasion, after Leo has been through a pretty substantial amount of recovery, but the fear of the Krang is still an ever-present part of him, even when he's facing down a completely different threat. Of course the Voice would latch onto that to try and manipulate him.

The Krang could see him this time. It could hear him.

It could most certainly touch him. The punches were as solid as he remembered.

The Voice can't actually hurt him much; he can touch Leo, but what punching or kicking he could do wouldn't be all that painful for Leo, who has natural armor and is better trained for combat. This is all psychosomatic - the Voice preying on the memory of the pain, rather than inflecting new pain.

And then, the scene reversed.

He was sucked back up through the cracks in the rock, until he was leaning back against a slab and staring up at the glowing red eye of the Krang’s suit.

I just thought this mental image was scary. Is it scary? I hope so.

“What do you want?”

“I want to go back. Please. I want my body back!”

How can you be so mean to this kid? (Because the voice is a dick, that's why. "Everybody wants this" he says, while torturing a poor child.)

AND FINALLY... Corrupted Upgrade time!

The answer is yes, I had at least a version of this scene in mind from the beginning!

The basic idea for Corrupted Upgrade was one i was turning around in my head since basically the beginning, before I started IMBI; I just got a more solid idea for IMBI and went with that first, tucking CU into the back of my head for a better opportunity. And I decided to use the Bang event as that opportunity!

I always knew that they would kick him out, and that Raph would deal the final blow. I didn't have the exact dialogue down until I started writing, though I did think Mikey would be the one to say that they should kick Donnie out, echoing the joke he makes in the Bullhop episode.

And yes I did have fun. Though I will say I agonized a lot more over this fic than any part of IMBI lol. Donnie's POV is a little harder for me to write than Leo's.

“Eh, that’s okay,” Raph interrupted. “Your tech just gets in the way.”

It hit him like a shock. Donnie pulled his arms tight to his plastron. “In the way…?”

As much as Leo clearly craves Raph's approval, I think Donnie does, too, just less secretly. Raph is their big brother, he's the ringleader, he's the one they all look up to. If Raph says this, Donnie takes it more seriously than if, say, Leo says it, because that means he really has failed somehow.

“No, it’s helped us plenty of times! Like… like…”

“Like with the Shredder?” Mikey asked, his tone mocking.

Donnie felt the air leave his lungs.

Mikey may joke around, but I don't think he would ever actually throw something like this at Donnie. But like with the Ice Cream fic, I headcanon that Donnie sees that first Shredder fight as his biggest failure - all his tech was destroyed without making a dent! It's hard to come back after that.

And this is just Donnie's own brain beating him up, so of course that's going to come out of the mouth of his beloved partner in crime, the peanut butter to his jelly. So sad.

“I’m glad we’re talkin’ about this, because I’ve actually been thinkin’.” Ignoring the critical blow he’d just dealt, Mikey turned back to the others with a smirk. “Why don’t we kick Donnie out and add someone cooler to the team?”

I just said this above, but this was absolutely meant to echo the "I was all set to kick Donnie out!" line from the show.

“How about we hold it to a vote?” Raph suggested.

“Oh yeah! Democracy!” Leo cheered.

Leo isn't contributing much to this conversation, he's more like the bullying hypeman. Tbf Donnie doesn't think he has many original thoughts, lol.

“Hey!” Donnie stomped his foot on the ramp. “I don’t know what kind of prank this is, but it isn’t funny.”

Donnie has a legitimately hard time believing that this is real at first, even though the program is doing everything it can to convince him. But his brothers wouldn't pull a prank like this, even if they might joke around a little, so if anything that helps the illusion.

“That isn’t how this works!” Donnie took a step toward them. He could feel his muscles tensing, like he was bracing for impact. “You can’t just throw me out with a vote.”

And he's starting to realize that here, which is why he's tensing up.

“Well then, how about this,” Raph said, and Donnie shrank back as he stepped up.

In all his life, Raph had never made him feel so small.

“You’re out, Donnie. Leader’s orders.”

I think any of them would be destroyed if Raph said something like this to them. It's the kind of thing you can't really come back from. Even Donnie with his emotionless badboy image. At least Raph didn't really say it!

Thanks for the ask!!

[fictionalhubbydreamer]

Triggers here: minor language, sexual theme, mature theme. No minors mat interact!

To all responsible readers of smut do enjoy~.

This is a request for @allofroti enjoy!

This is in Spring time, the spirit of Spring was everywhere. Cherry Blossom trees in every street, looking ever elegant as petals blew in small gusts of wind. Decorations and specials are everywhere to show that Spring and love is in the air.Every citizen of the city getting ready for celebrations .Well almost everyone was getting ready that is.

The Hamato guys were told to remain underground, due to this time of year being their mating time. Splinter had to put Casey and April in charge of keeping tabs on them. Luckily Casey had some knowledge of how the guys could cope with their raging hormones. The guys are still themselves, however may act slightly off character at times. April also had to have a talk with you about how the guys are off limits until approximately two whole weeks. However listening was not all that much of a strong point of yours, well at least not the memory part.

So now its the next day and Donnie sent a text to you, telling you that he is just unsure of If It really is a good idea to come over to the lair. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to you, due to lacking the memory of April having a talk with them. So texting him back that It's perfectly fine and nothing could possibly go wrong. Oh how wrong you were, once arriving at the lair It was colder than usual. In both temperature and appearance, this place was a bit different from the last memory.

Suddenly a hand was felt upon your shoulder, whirling around to try get out of the persons grip only to see It was Donnie.

Relaxing again from the sudden scare, wrapping him in a warm embrace best you can. Donnie's every muscle was tensed up and this raised some suspicions now"Are you alright Don Don?" You asked while your face was buried in his abdomen due to you being a bit on the short side. Hearing his breath hitch was enough to tell you the answer, he was tense from something and you were going to find out what. His scent was a bit different ,not sure if that was part of the problem yet something told you It was. Donnie then leads you quietly into his room ,upon closing the door he locked it too which told you that this was serious now. "Donnie?" Your now soft voice was almost unheard in the deafening silence.

He looked your way, his features showed he was struggling with his decision."I-Its mating season...and um I know you might not like this-"

Hearing those words finally revealed one of your memories of April giving you the talk, that and Donnies text finally added up. You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose for a second, then walking over to him you then placed your hands on his plastron."Look I love you my dumb nerd. I love you and I told you so many times that If anything happens then It happens. Now get your gear and mask off. I want to help you through this difficult time....show me that beast that I know resides in you." You whispered to him the last part.

Oh how he did in fact do just that, he pulls you onto his thigh and with a low churr that sent shivers up your spine period! "Ride my thigh first", Your needy whines made him chuckle in such a hot way that you just could not refuse him. His every muscle that bulged was felt through your undergarments, grazing every spot that sent shockwaves of pleasure with every movement. Soon you felt moisture seep through your underwear, this made you blush beet red that the colour put Raphs mask to shame!.

Oh Donnie was not done yet, soon you felt a slight pinch on your neck. It was not painful, but instead it sent more shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. He had actually left a trail of his love marks to claim you as his very own. Soon he had you pinned on your back on his bed that he made sure was soft enough for you. His eyes were burning with lust and love at the same time. Your clothing removed from your lower region, now exposing how wet you really were. Soon he pried your legs apart and something hard and really big was felt rubbing up against your wet core. It was huge and it was throbbing too, upon glancing at what It was. What you saw was his erection and the size was far bigger than you could imagine. Would It even fit in you?, well he would make sure to treat you well that he could fit inside without hurting you.

"I am going to enter you now~." Were his last words before a tinge of pain shot through your lower region. The pain went away really fast once he started moving. His muffled words,"Im going to fucking breed you until morning." Were the last audible words that you remembered.

Lets say that he was going to milk himself dry while he claimed his forever mate.

[Well lets hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this. I made it gender neutral so let your imagination run wild!]

@dilucsflame33

[mlmxreader]

Hiding | Donny Donowitz x m!reader

Anonymous asked: "We'd never be allowed to be open about us" With Donny Donowitz please ( and male)

Thanks

summary: you and Donny are hiding your relationship, and as time goes on, it gets worse.

tws: swearing

Donny huffed as he watched you try and cosy up to Hugo, the Basterd you were closest to after him, as although he could not bring himself to be jealous, he didn't particularly like the fact that you had stolen his spot at the campfire after he had gone to grab more wood; he set the small logs down by the fire, then sat beside you as he growled softly.

"You stealin' my fuckin' place now?"

You shrugged, flashing him a smile that made his knees go weak as blush coated his features. "Can you blame me? Besides, you weren't using it."

Donny smiled back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to dull the urge to say something he might regret; he knew that you being his boyfriend wasn't something Aldo would take lightly to - only because he might think it was a distraction for the Ensign to be dating a Sergeant.

You came from the Navy before joining the Basterds, and Donny loved to hear you talk about the boats that you worked on; he loved it when you taught him how to tie various knots, your hands ghosting over his the same way that his would when he coached you on how to use his bat... only he had the added excuse to press his hips against your backside. It made you laugh when you looked back at him with a playful glare.

But Aldo would never allow a relationship between the two of you, it would be a distraction, it would add extra issues that really were not needed; he would never allow such a thing. After the war, he would never bat an eye.

Donny licked his lips as he looked down at yours for a moment, and then shook his head. "Wanna come get more wood with me? I don't think I got enough."

"Alright," you shrugged, getting up and dusting yourself off.

It wasn't far into the little wander when Donny suddenly grabbed your arms, and slammed his back against a tree as he grinned, a certain hunger in his eyes that made you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Sergeant Donowitz, what are you doing?"

"Something I can't do at camp, Ensign (y/l/n)," he whispered, guiding your hands to his shirt collar. He was surprised when you slammed your palms against the tree either side of his head, your knee between his legs as you moved forward. His eyes lit up with excitement. "C'mon, fuckin' kiss me."

You hung your head, moving forward just enough to press it to the side of his neck as you sighed heavily, your breath warm on his skin as you closed your eyes and grumbled. "I can't... it's too risky."

Donny's hand went between your shoulder blades as he frowned. "Hey, hey, it's okay. We don't gotta do anythin', y'know that."

You tutted softly. "It's not that, it's that... we'd never be allowed to be open about us. Aldo would fucking chew our brains out."

"Oh," he said quietly. "It's that?"

"It's not gonna be anything else," you pointed out. "I mean, fuck, you saw how he chewed Hugo out for so much as talking about a possible relationship."

Donny nodded slowly. "I know it don't matter, but you know I've always got your fuckin' back, and maybe... maybe if we told Aldo he wouldn't be so much of an ass about it. Maybe it'd all be dandy."

"Maybe," you sniffled. "I dunno, I just... fuck, I can't kiss you when I know somebody could come looking and see us. It's not like the boats, we had... we had space there, y'know?"

"I know," was all he could say. "I know."

Maybe things would be different if you told Aldo that you were Donny's boyfriend, maybe things would work out just fine and dandy and nothing would go wrong and you wouldn't get an earful; but even still, your stomach churned at the thought, and although you did not want to push Donny away, you did not want to drag him through any shit either.

[milkytheholy1]

HC 22: Aches and pains

Request: I personally get a TON of body aches. Mainly my whole waist. More specifically, a lot of hip pains and lower back pains for no reason. Might be arthritis, who knows. I was wondering if you could do one with the Bayverse turtles and how they would react to an s/o or even a crush who experiences a lot of those pains almost all the time? Sometimes they're mild, sometimes they're pretty extreme. Mostly mild, tho.

TMNT masterlist

Ultimate masterlist

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

Leo:

Would be extremely worried about you. Very overprotective too.

He gets that you've had this for a while, but he just wants you to be okay.

Expect to be shoved into Donnie's lab when you tell him you feel your waist aching.

He kinda freaked out the first few times you brought it up, only because he didn't know what to do.

He had tried teaching you to meditate to see if that solved anything as well as some traditional healing methods Splinter had taught him.

When nothing seemed to work he relied a lot more on his techy brother for answers.

Sometimes tells you to press something warm against your body like a hot water bottle.

When he's at your place he'll insist on you having a bath.

If you have any jobs that needed to be done before you got an ache, you can count on Leo to do them for you.

Won't take no as an answer.

If he can't help you medical, he'll find another way and if that way is cleaning the kitchen he'll do it.

Raph:

Raph didn't really understand your aches at first.

He just thought it was tension in your muscles and then paraded the fact that he gets cramp way worse than you.

It was only when you told him the extent of these aches where he started to be more helpful to you.

If he saw you in pain around the lair he wouldn't hesitate to help you.

Carrying you to the couch, sometimes home if you couldn't move.

He'd bring you hot drinks from the kitchen and a slice of pizza.

Kick Mikey out of the common room so you could watch t.v together.

He did a lot, and you appreciated every bit of it.

Sometimes you think he's only helping you out because he downplayed how bad your aches were and he felt bad.

But one evening when you were both alone in the lair he told you otherwise.

"I'm helpin' ya cause, yeah I feel guilty, but you're also my friend. I just don't like seein' ya in pain, alright?"

In English that meant: I want to help you because you're very important to me and I don't want to see you in pain.

Donnie:

He's done everything he can think of as to why you have these aches and pains.

He comes to a few conclusions, some he shares since they don't seem so bad, but the others he keeps locked away in his mind as to not panic you.

It's probably nothing though, right?

He'll fuss over you the most.

Heated pillows and blankets, Warm drinks, Hot baths, Warm clothing straight from the dryer.

He offers massages to you to see if it's just tension.

You tell him you feel a difference but you don't really, you just like the contact.

He's probably the worst turtle when it comes to seeing you in pain.

Cause unlike his brothers, he should know why it's happening, he should know how to stop it.

So every wince, every flinch is a reminder that he's failing.

Mikey:

Just wants to see you happy.

Wants to distract you enough so you barely think about the pain you're in.

"Laughter is the best medicine, (Y/N)."

Creates a blanket fort for you both to hid in.

Fills it to the brim with blankets and snacks.

It's possibly the comfortable fort you've ever been in.

Constantly tells you that pizza will make it all better.

"What if I told you it's double stuffed crust?"

Mikey knows he isn't a doctor.

He knows he's not going to be able to figure out why you get aches and how to stop them It's not that he doesn't try, but he knows it isn't his forte.

But he's always with you when you go visit Donnie for a quick checkup, holding your hand tightly in his.

[kurlyfrasier]

Love Unknown (Part 1)

My dearest, most patient Nonny (you know who you are). I give you; PART ONE of your request. I hate that you’ve had to wait such a ridiculously long time for your request, so I thought I’d go ahead and give you the first bit. I hope you enjoy! Also, you never specified if you wanted the Reader and Raph to be in a relationship already so I hope you don’t mind that they are not in one at the moment.

Pairing: Raph x Reader

The Request (includes obvious warnings): its about angst, (spoiler), fight, blood and (spoiler again). ok, raph had a fight with reader so he say bad things to her, so he listens music (ZAYN & Sia - Dusk Till Dawn) because he was sad and crying but she could never hate raph, so after raph... (I’m leaving this part out of the request so there’s not so many spoilers) ....so he goes to reader and they make up. (possible trigger warning in tags that I took out of this request; may have to expand tags to see it)

A/N: I actually don’t watch any of the TMNT series’ so I know nothing about Destructor X (I’m assuming that’s who you wanted as the villain. I had to look it up). So, I took the liberty of changing the villain to one I know a tiny, itty bitty bit more about. I sincerely apologize if this ruins it for you. Also, this is a first draft.

Disclaimer: I own no TMNT anything, nor do I know any NYC geography, song belongs to Zayn & Sia, and last - but not least - Nonny owns this lovely, specific request! Honestly, I could do SO MUCH with this and it was hard to choose how to go about it. Last thing, I promise: If anyone thinks of a better title, PLEASE SHARE IT cuz I am terrible at coming up with titles.

Word Count: 1189

Raph fell onto his bed with a loud huff, body trembling from the hours-long workout he just finished. Yet, he was still angry - at himself more so than you. The words he spouted at you in a jealous rage- He shook his head, barely hearing the music blasting through his overly-large headphones as he recalled you wrestling with Mikey. His hand hovered, prepared to rip his headphones off, when the song changed to one you must have added to his playlist. You always did silly things like that; instilling bits of yourself into the turtles lives. They all loved it. 

Especially him. 

Especially on the days when you weren’t able to come visit.

Today had not been one of those days, but he had ruined it minutes into your visit.

His arm landed heavily next to him. Savoring the song, he closed his eyes. Unable to stop himself from falling for you even harder than he already had. A tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. Everything about the song reminded him of how he wished he could be with you. How he wanted to be there with you from dusk to dawn. How he wished to watch the sunrise with you. How he wished he had the right to touch you as the song implied.

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

“Something’s wrong,” Donnie whispered to Leo, pointing to a large screened device as Raph walked into the dojo, ready for patrol. “Her phone suddenly disconnected and I can’t pinpoint her on the GPS.”

Raph froze at his brother’s words, stomach sinking. He had a gut feeling they were talking about you. 

“Has she ever turned off her phone before?” Leo asked quietly, voice calm.

“Never,” Donnie emphatically shook his head, looking more worried by the second. “I’ve explained to her that she has to make sure her phone never dies and she nevers turns it off. Otherwise, if something happens…” He let the sentence hang.

“It’s possible (Y/n) forgot to charge her phone and-”

“That wouldn’t happen Leo!” Donnie whisper-shouted, shooting daggers at their brother. “She’s more responsible than that.”

“I know, I know,” Leo raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go check her apartment and make sure everything’s okay.”

“What about R-”

“Don’t say anything until I get back,” Leo turned on his heel to find the very brother he was hoping to avoid, eyes widening slightly before forcing a neutral expression once more.

“Where ya goin’?” Raph asked, feigning nonchalance. Inside, he was raging, blood deafeningly pumped through his veins.

“Just getting some fresh air before we head out on patrol, is all,” he lied, making his way out of the dojo.

“I call bull,” Raph stated, eyes cold as he challenged their so-called leader, grabbing his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “What’s going on,” he growled out.

“It could be nothing, Raph. Calm-”

“(Y/n)’s phone is off,” Leo snapped his head in Donnie’s direction to find him marching their way. “Last I saw, she was headed East on Michigan Avenue.”

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago-”

“And you didn’t think to wake me!?” Raph released Leo to shake some sense into Donnie. He may have been a genius, but he could be a real dunce sometimes. “What if somethin’ happened to her! Huh!? What then!?”

“I thought-”

“It don’t matter what ya thought, Donnie!” Raph roared, shoving his brother away, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Next thing Raph knew, he and his brothers were topside, rain beating down on them in torrents as they headed East on Michigan, but he didn’t feel the cold. His only thoughts were of you; your scent, your hair, your laugh, that spark in your eye when you were up to something - or angry, now that he thought about it. Point was, if anything happened to you… he would never be able to forgive himself. Heck, he wasn’t sure he would live. You were his sunshine on his darkest days, the one thing he looked forward to most was seeing your smiling face. Not that you knew this, especially after your fight earlier in the day. 

One thing he knew for certain, on top of all that, was that he would never deserve you.

He was a monster. Something he proved all too well earlier that day and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if you hated him for it. Even he knew that he blew up for no good reason. 

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

You were drenched, and not from the sprinkle of rain that hit you- how long ago was it now? You didn’t know. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The warm, thick liquid dripped down your temple from the last blow Karai had given you with the butt of her tanto blade. Eyes closed, you let out a groan, head pounding from the memory.

They had left you; the lowly Foot Clan soldiers and Karai, but you knew they’d be back for more. Considering how silent you were about the turtles whereabouts, you basically guaranteed yourself a nice, long torture. Karai just had to go get her ‘tools’, as she called them. Personally, you thought her fists, feet, and tantos were enough. 

Opening your eyes, you sought a way to escape. Not that you had any luck so far ridding yourself of the deadly tight ropes tying you to the hard, metal chair you sat in. Still, the thought of escape had you squinting into the darkened room. The only light was when lightning struck in the sky, seeping through the windows close to the ceiling. There were a few open, allowing the booming thunder to roll easily to your ears and rain to drip down the walls. Stacks of boxes surrounded you. If they weren’t too terribly heavy, you might be able to move a stack to create a makeshift staircase to the windows. You wriggled, but it only seemed to tightened the ropes at your wrists and ankles.

With a deep breath you thought of Raph. He was your best friend. If you were to die tonight you hoped he knew you didn’t hate him. Knowing him, that’s exactly what was running through his head. He was so passionate about everything he did. He felt everything so much more than you did, it seemed. Except for maybe one thing; your love for him. Nothing he ever did or said would ever turn your heart away from him. Granted, you did wonder what shot him off this time. He almost never took his anger out on you unless you did something dangerous; like try to follow him on patrol or go through dark alleys or- Well, the list went on. You did like pushing his buttons, but you liked how much he worried over you even more. 

The small smile that crept onto your lips faded the moment Karai slammed open the door, making a grand entrance with a wheeled table covered in objects that reflected the bit of light that now lit the room, giving it an almost romantic glow. It was a small fight to stop the laugh that bubbled in your throat.

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

Part 2

[silentchubority]

Plump Prison: Part 1

Donnie had been a big fan of prison shows, and now he wished he hadn’t been. Knowing every small detail of the dramatized version of prison sent his brain into a sequence of nightmares and worse case scenarios because he, the hard-working nice guy, was on his way to prison.

When Donnie left his parents’ home in Florida to go to college in Georgia, he thought nothing of his address. After graduating college with high grades and an engineering degree, he got a job in Atlanta but kept his parents’ mailing address for convenience. It wasn’t until he was in court for tax evasion and address fraud that he even thought about the possible consequences.

At 6 feet tall, Donnie had always been... pleasantly plump, he preferred to say. About two-thirty when he arrived at college, he crept up just past two-fifty by graduation. Sitting all day doing engineering homework didn’t help, but he didn’t mind it. He just thought of himself as a soft, huggable guy, still attractive and dateable. But then when he realized his charges might actually carry some serious consequences, he learned what stress eating was. Solid but “not fat” Donnie quickly gained weight during his trial and ultimate conviction. He didn’t know what his weight was now, he could just tell by the way his clothes felt. They just kept getting slightly tighter, but he didn’t care. His belly sat on his lap just a little during the car ride. His parents insisted on driving him there to say goodbye. He was going to jail. It was so surreal that nothing else mattered.

Zoned out, contemplating his life and future possibilities, he hadn’t even realized that they had arrived at the prison until the car stopped and he felt his slightly larger chest shake. “Let’s get this over with,” he said to his parents. His mom would not stop crying, and his dad showed the most emotion Donnie had ever seen. Dear God, it’s only two months, Donnie wanted to say. He finally got away from his parents, an odd relief considering where he was headed, and so started the movie scenes he was all too familiar with.

They sent him into a room with a medical-looking guard that turned out to be the cavity search. “Clothes off, fat ass,” another guard ordered sternly. Fat ass? He had never been made fun of for his weight, but apparently his recent weight gain put him into that territory. He wanted to build a good relationship with the guards, if possible, so he just put all his belongings, including clothes, in something that looked like an airport x-ray tray, and immediately the guard yelled “Now bend over!” It was so cold in the room that his penis was fully shrunk. As he bent over and put his hands on a chair, he felt his chest and stomach start to shake with the abrupt stop. “At least this extra pudge is keeping me warm,” he thought. Not so fast. The medical-looking guard sat behind him and quickly globbed some equally cold lube on his anus. Donnie felt a shiver run through his body. Before he could even calm his body down, he felt a latex glove slip firmly inside him, dragging with it the cold goo.

His whole body clenched, and he could feel his slightly hanging stomach and chest move as the muscles beneath them flexed. Donnie was straight and had had a few unfulfilling relationships during college, but chose to focus on his work for the few years since then. He had some gay acquaintances, or almost-friends, but nobody close enough for him to ask his straight man questions to: “Doesn’t anal sex just hurt?” That question was no longer applicable. Breathing heavily, Donnie realized his hole had opened quite easily for the two fingers doing reconnaissance inside him. At a few points, it might have actually felt good. He was too cold and violated to pass judgement. He did know that many men, including straight men, acknowledge that prostate stimulation feels great. Maybe he’d leave prison a little more sexually adventurous. He half scoffed and half looked forward to that, but it felt too cliche.

“All done. No contraband,” the officer said as he ripped off the glove and threw it into the garbage. Donnie wanted to make a joke about how many guys the officer had done that to, but thought it best to get to know the guards before trying sexual humor.

Donnie stood up as the meaner one snapped “What size clothes, faggot?”

Another insult Donnie had never been called. He brushed it off. “Um, XL shirt and thirty-eight pants,” he lied, but he did wear a thirty-eight in some brands still. He hoped the prison clothes ran big.

“This isn’t a mall,” the guard responded. “XL!” he yelled through a mail slot on the wall. After a few seconds, some orange clothes shot through the hole on onto the floor. Yep, bright orange, just like on TV. “Get dressed,” the forceful demands of simple tasks continued.

Donnie skidded his feet over to where the clothes had landed. Something about receiving his first anal experience made him feel like he couldn’t walk normally. Why did this guard have to be so rude? Officer Harris, his pin read.

He grabbed the pile of clothes, found the extra large boxers, pulled them up over his round cheeks, and felt some of the lube wet the fabric. Gross. Now I have to sit in cold wetness for a few hours, he thought. But then he felt an unexpected, similarly cold sensation on the other side. His penis had gone through the hole in the front of the boxers, and was fully exposed to the cold room. He quickly went from embarrassed to calm. After all, everyone in the room had just seen literally everything. And then regressed to mortified when he realized he was erect. Tiny and shriveled from the cold, but rock hard and erect.

That’s why they had called him faggot! “I’m not... This isn’t normal. I didn’t like it. I’m straight. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Get dressed!“ screamed Officer Harris.

Donnie tried to adjust his shrunken ball sack and boner to get inside the boxers. Not only was his erection the problem, he realized the extra large boxers weren’t large enough. The boxers were pulled so tight around his butt cheeks that it caused the hole at the front to be open permanently. But he didn’t want to complain to the guard who had just yelled at him, so he quickly grabbed the pants and shirt and threw them on.

Oh no, he thought. The clothes didn’t fit. The orange pants were tight from his mid-quads all the way up to the elastic waistband, comically so. He was surprised they even fit without ripping. The shirt didn’t seem bad, but then he looked down and realized that any little movement was causing his torso to be partially exposed. Even in most standing positions, the bottom of his little belly was showing, just barely hanging, covering not even a centimeter of his waist. “I think I need the next size up,” Donnie said.

With a hint of humanity in his face, Harris leaned back toward the hole the clothes came out of and screamed “Can we get a double XL?” And then they waited.

Donnie kept trying to pull down his shirt and slightly move in the pants, hoping they would stretch out. No luck. About a minute later, a voice answered. “XL is the biggest we have right now!”

“Sorry, chubs. You’re gonna have to deal with this,” said Officer Harris, with a bit more compassion. “Keep it movin’,” he said, pointing toward the next door.

Donnie walked through and realized it was where he would get photographed, measured, and fingerprinted for easy future identification. The mug shot and finger prints went easily enough. He had never been embarrassed about his body or weight, but it was uncomfortable to get weighed in clothes that were too small after what was surely a lot of weight gain in a short time. “How much do you weigh?” asked a new guard.

“Um...” Donnie wasn’t sure what to say. “two sixty,” he guessed finally.

The guard looked at him with a disbelieving side eye and turned to the old school scale with the two sliding pieces. She threw the bigger slider to two-fifty and the smaller one to fifteen. “Hop on,” she said, as if it was too much work for her. The right side of the scale shot upward. Donnie was relieved. That guard thought he was lying about his weight, but he was less than two sixty-five! But she wasn’t even looking at the scale. Donnie hadn’t noticed that the scale also measured height. The guard slapped down the flat stick on top of his head. “Five eleven,” she said as she wrote.

“Oh, I’m six foot,” said Donnie, wondering why he was suddenly concerned about his height.

“Alright... stand up straight,” she said, unamused. She reset the contraption and set it back down on his head, slightly gentler this time. “Still five eleven. You can claim six with shoes on, alright?” Then she folded up the height measurement and moved onto the weight. Donnie was relieved he hadn’t gained more than fifteen pounds during his trial. She started sliding the indicator right, toward the heavier numbers. Donnie was confused. The scale said he weighed less than two sixty-five, but she was pushing it as if he weighed more.

It passed two seventy-five. He wondered if he should tell her she was wrong or just keep his mouth shut. Again, for the sake of making a good impression, he wasn’t going to correct her. But she kept pushing it heavier.

He thought for a minute. The goal of these scales was to balance... so if the right side of the scale moved upward, the indicator did need to move to higher numbers. She wasn’t wrong, he was! It passed two eight-five.

He was in such disbelief that he had even gained fifteen pounds, but she was right, and he had gained much more. It passed two ninety-five. But just barely. Two hundred and ninety-seven pounds.

“As if I wasn’t going to find out you were lying,” she snapped, obviously angry. “You’re just wasting my fuckin’ time by lying by forty pounds.” 

Being nice and honest had always worked in Donnie’s favor. He wanted to continue that with the guards in hopes of as pleasant a stay as possible. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Last time I weighed myself, I was two fifty,” he explained.

The guard quickly glanced down at his tight clothes. “Yeah... I believe you. You’re fine. Move on to the next window and tell them your shoe size.”

He was in a weird place. Not thinking about prison or his life afterwards. He kept thinking “How did I gain forty-seven pounds in three months?” He must have gained some weight before the trial stress weight, he concluded. He used to think three hundred was so big, but here he was, closer to three hundred than two ninety, and he didn’t feel big. Maybe he was a bit judgemental about people over three hundred pounds, but now he realized he shouldn’t be.

“Hey, uh... Donnie! One more thing,” the guard caught him right before he passed the doorway. “That puts you at a BMI of forty-two point five, morbidly obese. That means you get a doctor visit. He’ll be here next week, and you’ll have an appointment.”

Of course, Donnie thought. He still didn’t think he was that big, but apparently he was now “morbidly obese.” Morbidly obese?! Doctors are so judgemental, they have to assign ridiculous medical names to the pleasantly plump, he told himself with a little laugh.

He got his shoe size right on the first try, and then they threw some bedding at him and escorted him through a few locked doors until he was actually in prison. He followed a guard to his cell, which wasn’t really a cell at all. Most of the “cells” he was were permanently open, he supposed for prisoners that weren’t violent. He was in no rush to do anything, so he made his bed as slowly as his body wanted. His shirt rode up with every movement, exposing his love handles and belly to the cold air in the prison. As if losing his freedom wasn’t enough, he also had to be oddly cold in certain parts of his body during most parts of the day. 

KRRRRRRR! A bell rang and Donnie jumped so hard his shirt rode up past his belly button. Luckily, nobody was around except the guard who had shown him to his bed, who was clearly amused. Donnie grabbed his little XL shirt and pulled it down. “What was that? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it means it’s time for lunch,” the guard explained.

Lunch! Donnie had forgotten about eating entirely. He was consumed by his despair. But food sounded amazing right now. Should I watch the food a little after finding out I’m forty-seven pounds heavier than I thought? he wondered. No, he didn’t look that different than he did at twenty-two years old, and he wasn’t going to let a little baby fat withhold from him what was likely to be his sole pleasure here in prison. “Where’s the cafeteria?” he asked, trying not to seem too eager.

The guard walked him to the cafeteria, which wasn’t far from Donnie’s bed, but it was anything but appetizing. There was a distinct smell of food, but not a good smell, and this was the first time he had seen any of the other prisoners. The way they looked at him, he knew the prison was small enough for them to recognize the new people immediately. With his little belly peaking out, he knew he had to exude confidence. He walked at an intentionally medium pace, with a little more movement than he normally walked with, toward the start of the food line.

It appeared that there were no choices. He got some green mush with rice, some red mush with yellow chunks, some soup that was mostly broth, and a dinner roll. Perhaps his hunger was to his favor, because this looked like possibly the least flavorful meal he would ever eat, but he was still excited for it, even though he wished he could have twice as much, or more.

He reminded himself to use his swagger, and walked to the emptier side of the cafeteria and sat down alone. He didn’t want to seem too interested in finding friends, and maybe he could be a silent loner. Officer Harris, the guard who saw his boner, was watching over the cafeteria nearby, so Donnie tried not to look at him. He adjusted his shirt to hide his love handles as best he could, realizing that sticking the front hem of his shirt under his belly would keep it in place better. And then he went to town on his food.

The red mush wasn’t great, but he actually liked the green mush, and the salty water with a slice of celery that they called soup was good enough. He was savoring the roll for the end, because it was the only thing that looked like actual food.

Before he could get to his roll, he realized a prisoner was talking to Officer Harris, and then the prisoner turned to walk toward Donnie. He was probably ten years older than Donnie, slightly taller, and slightly heavier, but much more muscular. Donnie was terrified, but he just told himself not to be. He shouldn’t be, right? The guards wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen, surely. Right?

The man sat down and looked at Donnie. He was covered in tattoos and had a chest so big and hairy it was crawling through the hole in his shirt, which you could barely see because of his large, shapely beard.

“I’m Loren,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Donnie.” He made sure to shake hands firmly, only to still feel weak and timid compared to the muscular older man.

“Do you like the bread?” He asked. Donnie thought he was about to be robbed of his lunch money, or his lunch, he supposed. So the hazing and mistreatment would begin.

Forgetting to inflate his confidence, Donnie reverted to his honest, kind nature. “I was actually saving that for last, but I don’t like the red stuff.”

“Ah, perfect!” The man exclaimed, seeming a whole lot nicer in that second. “I hate the roll and love the red stuff. Wanna trade?”

“Of course!” Donnie had never felt such a friendship with anyone so quickly at work, so it seemed too good to be true in jail. Donnie poured the red stuff from his tray onto the man’s and then the man traded his roll in return. Donnie wasn’t sure if he should inspect it for safety, but wasn’t going to do that then and there. “What’s the catch?” He said, remembering to regain some of his prison demeanor.

“Not much,” he said in a sincere tone. “Wanna join my gang?”

“No, thanks.” Why did you just say thanks in prison?! Donnie berated himself silently. “I’m not looking to stay in here longer than I need to. I’m hoping to get out early on good behavior.” He took a cautious bite of one of the rolls and it was perfect. Thank God he could look forward to about half the food here.

“Oh, no! Not like that,” The man reacted. “We’re not going to do anything illegal. Gangs in here are more like groups of friends that look out for each other, just in case any shit goes down. And we can trade food, like today,” he laughed.

Donnie was confused. Why would anyone want him to be in his “gang” so quickly? “Why me?”

“Well I’m sure you’ve noticed you’re bigger than most of the guys in here. How much do you weigh?”

Donnie felt a little embarrassed. Was this another person today commenting on his girth? “Two eighty.” Why was he lying? He had no idea.

“Nice. I am lucky enough to be a big guy, too, and you’ll see that you can get a lot of advantages here just because people are scared of you, even if you give them no reason.” he continued.

“Like what?” Donnie wasn’t convinced.

The man stood up, and Donnie felt terrified again. “Come with me. Bring your tray.” They walked back up to the beginning of the line for food, cutting in front of a few guys. “Hey, Austin. I’m gonna take one of everything again, and my new friend Donnie is gonna have two scoops of the spinach and two rolls,” beckoning to Donnie.

“Comin’ right up,” Austin responded as he served both men exactly what they asked for.

When they got back to the table, Donnie felt respected, comfortable, and confused. “Are we allowed to go back for seconds?” he asked.

“No,” he said matter-of-factly, “but I am friendly with all the guys here, and people think I look scary. Those are the benefits big boys get, and we get more if we stick together. It was me and two other guys who recently got out, so I really need to build up my group again, for my own safety. What do you say, Donnie?” 

He was kind of surprised a prisoner remembered his name so quickly. “Sounds good. Remind me your name.” Donnie asked sheepishly.

“Loren!”

“Thanks, Loren. And sorry. Though I do remember you said you didn’t like the rolls, so why did you get another one?”

“I don’t,” Loren said with a big smile,” but I remembered that you like the spinach, soup, and roll, so I got ‘em for you.”

Donnie had just finished his two extra helpings of the spinach and rolls, and he shivered realizing his flat tire of a lower abdomen was exposed again. He tucked his shirt under his little overhang and said “Thank you very much, but I shouldn’t.”

“You... shouldn’t?” said Loren, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve gained a lot of weight recently, so I just want to tone it down a bit.” Donnie explained.

“Stop that, man. You look fuckin’ good.” Loren said quickly but confidently.

Was this it? Now it all made sense. Donnie saw Loren talk to that guard and then come over to him immediately. That guard told Loren that Donnie was gay, and that’s why he was inviting him to his “gang.” “Oh, um... thank you, but I’m not intereste... you... Sorry, man, I’m not gay. I know that guard told you I was, but I’m not-”

“Wait, what?” Loren stopped him. “Why would Officer Harris tell me you were gay?”

Donnie was mortified again. “Nevermind!”

“Haha, no! You don’t get to say that and not finish the story!”

Donnie didn’t know what to do. His brain was too overwhelmed to lie. “I got a boner during the cavity search.”

“Ah, nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to plenty of guys, and most of us are straight. It’s the prostate! But I get it. I’m not gay, either, but once you’ve been in here long enough, anything goes. In addition to everything I said about the gang earlier, it’s nice to have some close friends with similar needs who have boobs. No pressure, but we can definitely help each other out whenever you want. I’ll try to keep my sexualized comments to myself. Anyways. Are you gonna eat this or am I throwing it away? You might hate everything for dinner.”

Donnie contemplated having all bad food for dinner. He was full from what was at least double what every other guy got, but he had been consoling himself with food for months, so nothing sounded better than getting a little over-full when he didn’t know when or what he would eat next. “I’ll take it,” Donnie said, relieved.

As he scarfed down the extra food, he was a little uncomfortable with the looks he was getting from Loren, but he didn’t care. He had a friend, or “gang,” and he had good food. When he finished, both of them stood up and Donnie stretched his arms over his head. Maybe prison wasn’t going to be so bad after all. He finished stretching and looked across the table at Loren, who was gawking at Donnie’s belly. His shirt had ridden up to about his rib cage, not that he could see that anymore, exposing his entire belly.

“What size clothes are those?” Loren asked.

“XL,” Donnie said, disliking all the attention his size was getting.

“Come with me, big guy,” Loren demanded. Donnie didn’t know what else to do, so he followed, a little uncomfortable at the assertiveness after the longing gaze. Loren was doing something faster than a speed walk, an awkward semi-gallop through the halls. Donnie didn’t know the building, so he kept asking where they were going and Loren didn’t respond. Finally Donnie saw that they were close to the showers. Donnie started to slow down, but Loren heard and grabbed him by the arm. “Come on!” Loren was even stronger than Donnie expected, and Loren drug all two hundred and ninety-seven pounds of Donnie easily into a part of the showers that was not easily visible from the outside. “Take off your clothes” Loren said, more eager than demanding.

Donnie looked over and realized Loren had a full erection. He was scared. Why was this happening to him? Did he have a safe option to say no? He did as he was told. He took off his too-small XL shirt, then started to pull his way too small XL pants down. He bent over, his cold belly transforming into a few rolls, and slipped his pants off his legs and laid them on the floor, looking at Loren helplessly.

Loren was almost fully naked. He had what looked like a hard big belly, but an even harder and bigger chest. He was bending over to take off his boxers when he realized Donnie wasn’t taking off his. “Boxers, too!” Loren instructed, as Donnie got his first direct glimpse of Loren’s penis.

It was enormous. Donnie didn’t know how he knew it was enormous, as that was the first erection he’d seen outside of pornography in his life. But pornography was the circus of sex, and Loren’s cock was nearly that big. Donnie thought he might die. Sure, his anus took two lubed fingers relatively easily, but there was no way it could take that monster, right? Donnie started to cry. “What are you gonna do to me? Please don’t hurt me.”

“Fuck!” Loren said, clearly angry. “What the fuck do you think?!”

Donnie felt ridiculous explaining the situation that seemed clear to him, but he had to answer the man. “You ran in here. You have a boner. You brought me here to have sex. I told you I’m not gay,” he gasped, trying not to cry too hard.

“No!” Loren said, exasperated. “I told you that I wouldn’t try anything sexual with you unless you wanted to! I’m not a sexual predator just because I have sex with men. Sorry about my boner. You are fuckin’ hot. I ran in here so nobody would see my boner. But I brought you here to trade clothes with you. You’re clearly uncomfortable in those clothes, and mine are two X and a little too big on me. If we get caught trading clothes, we will get in trouble. Do you want the double XL or not?!”

Am I just a privileged jerk and never knew it? Donnie thought. Loren had been nothing but kind and straightforward to him, but Donnie kept assuming the worst. He thought for a second. Did his small clothes bug him that badly? Yes, just because they were uncomfortable and exposed him more to the cold air. “Yes, please. I’m so sorry.”

Loren angrily threw his clothes at Donnie, and Donnie saw that Loren’s erection was already gone. Donnie put on the clothes as quickly as he could. The boxers actually fit and didn’t expose his package. Just then he heard Loren griping, “What the fuck is wet in the ass of these boxers?”

“It’s from the cavity search lube. Sorry.”

Loren laughed. Donnie kept putting on his new clothes as quickly as possible. They fit perfectly. He supposed he was now officially a XXL. Would he need to buy new shirts when he got out? Probably not, he thought. I’ll lose weight because of this nasty food.

He looked over at Loren, who was wearing obviously tighter clothes than before. “Dude, are you okay with this? Those are too small on you!”

Loren smirked. “They were way smaller on you.” Donnie was visibly embarrassed. “Stop that! I told you they looked good on you. The thing is, the pants were too tight on you and the shirt was too short. I have a wider but shorter trunk and I don’t carry as much weight in my legs, so this fits me well, maybe just a little form-fitting, is all. Now let’s get out of the bathroom before guards come asking questions.”

They walked quickly out of the showers and Donnie felt immediate relief. The whole prison felt a comfortable temperature instead of cold. And he had a friend.

“Wanna go work out until dinner?” asked Loren. 

Donnie hadn’t “worked out” since PE in high school. But maybe this was good stress relief and he would move back towards his college weight. Plus, the idea of looking more intimidating like Loren was a huge plus in prison. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Loren led Donnie through a lot of different exercises. The lifts especially were new to Donnie. It was strange to be more oriented to how his body felt for the first time in his life shortly after some weight gain. He could feel his man boobs and belly bouncing during jumping jacks, he realized how much they hung when he did push ups, and his belly got in his way a bit when he did sit ups. He was surprised with how much he lifted. He was naturally strong, and that’s why he was “thick all over,” according to Loren.

And that’s how they lived. When they weren’t doing chores or other mandatory prison labor, they worked out. Loren was always sure to lift at least two eighty on his lifts. “Why two eighty?” asked Donnie, stupidly. “To show you how easily I can throw you around,” Loren answered, reminding Donnie that he had lied about his weight. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, they ate together, and conveniently, they almost always had opposing tastes on food, so Donnie got double what he wanted, Loren got double what he wanted, and then they went back for seconds, sometimes thirds. I’m gonna be so jacked by the end of this sentence! Donnie thought.

He had been in prison for ten days - he counted carefully - when it was time for his doctors visit. It was scheduled for the time he and Loren usually worked out, so he would have to miss that. Donnie walked in and sat on the patient bed.

“Hi Donnie, I’m Doctor Surrey. I read that I’m seeing you today about your weight?”

What a joke, thought Donnie. After all, he had been working out daily for ten days without any issues. He was in his 20s, now active, and pleasantly plump. He knew he was healthy. “Nice to meet you, Doctor Surrey. Yep, you’re seeing me because I’m morbidly obese.”

“Gotcha. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Could you take off your shirt, please?” 

Donnie was comfortable taking off his shirt, especially now that it fit well, but there aren’t a lot of mirrors in prison, let alone opportunities to admire your own body, so he was surprised at how different he felt and looked in the mirror in the doctor’s office.

His chest seemed to hang a bit more, so the bottom hang of his man boobs was about parallel to the floor. Was this just his extra muscle mass? The doctor pushed the stethoscope into his soft pec. “Big deep breath,” he said. Donnie obliged. “Hmm...” The doctor seemed unhappy. He repositioned the stethoscope and pressed a little harder, Donnie’s soft chest pushing up noticeably past the base of the instrument. “Breathe forcefully for me again, please.” Donnie repeated. “Good,” commented Doctor Surrey, as he moved the stethoscope under Donnie’s other breast and pushed just as hard. That was a strange feeling for Donnie because his boob hung far enough to feel the tip of the stethoscope, as if it were a plate for Donnie to sit his breast on. He felt the cold metal flat on his skin and the taller extension just under his nipple. “Another big breath.”

Everything seemed to be going well. The doctor moved to listening to his breathing from his back, and Donnie noticed that stethoscope was sinking quite far into his skin as well.

“Now we’re going to give you a hernia check. Lay back.” Donnie felt his belly jiggle a bit as he relaxed and rolled backwards. The doctor started jabbing his fingers near Donnie’s hips and then toward the middle of his waist, and Donnie could feel his belly moving a lot. “It appears you are hernia free, but it’s a little difficult with your body composition to get a good reading,” Doctor Surrey said as he kept palpating.

After a few more checkup items, the doctor sat on a chair next to Donnie’s elevated seat and said “Everything looks fine. No health concerns here. How much did you weigh at your last weigh in, Donnie?”

“I was in the two nineties,” said Donnie, a little smugly. He half-hoped he had dropped below two ninety but knew it was most likely that he was in the low two nineties. Was it physically possible for him to be below two ninety after ten days?

“Oh... We’re going to need to do some blood tests. Have you had any serious changes to your eating or exercise since you got here?” The doctor’s words concerned Donnie.

“Yes, actually! I’ve been working out much more.” Donnie said proudly.

“Okay...” Doctor Surrey said, sounding confused.

“Why do you ask?”

The doctor pointed to something just below Donnie’s leg. He hadn’t noticed that the bed he was sitting on was also a scale. But it was upside down. Two... One... E? Was there some sort of error? Then his brain straightened it out. “Because it appears you’ve gained eighteen pounds in ten days,” explained Doctor Surrey. “You’re three fifteen now.”

“That’s impossible,” said Donnie, shocked. “I’ve been working out every day. Could it be muscle mass?”

“It’s not impossible,” said the doctor, “but it’s strange. It is impossible that all the gained weight has been muscle mass. Let’s double check that number.”

He beckoned for Donnie to step down from the bed and onto another scale in the room. “Can I take off my pants?” asked Donnie. He didn’t need any extra weight messing with this weight in.

“I don’t see why not,” said the doctor.

Donnie dropped his pants like a professional MMA fighter before a weigh in, and stepped on the scale. It made a beep and said his weight out loud in a robotic voice. “Three hundred fifteen point five pounds.” How was this possible?

“That puts your BMI at about forty-four. Let me do one more measurement,” said the doctor. Donnie was standing on the scale, and Doctor Surrey wrapped a tape measure around his waist. “A waist measurement below forty inches is prescribed for optimal health,” he explained.

“And how much is mine?”

The doctor pulled the tape measure taught with it going just above Donnie’s bellybutton. “It looks like... forty nine.”

Three hundred and fifteen pounds and basically a fifty inch waist? Donnie was shocked. He didn’t know what was happening, but he started to feel himself get hard. Did he enjoy being such a large masculine man that it turned him on? He quickly grabbed his pants, slipped them on, and sat down.

“Alright. I’m going to take some blood and send it to a lab to make sure that there isn’t some nefarious reason for your weight gain. Let’s meet back here next week. Does that sound good?”

Donnie submitted and zoned out for the rest of the visit. Was he upset? His penis surely wasn’t. What was going on?

He went to dinner with Loren and it took a while for Loren to get out of Donnie what was on his mind. Finally he just spilled. “I was three hundred and fifteen pounds at the doctor’s office today. How is that possible?”

“That’s not possible,” confirmed Loren. “You couldn’t gain thirty five pounds in ten days. There’s no way.”

“Oh... Actually, I lied to you. I was two ninety-seven when I got here, not two eighty.”

“Haha! Why would you lie about that?”

“Well... nobody wants to be heavier,” Donnie answered, sheepishly.

“That... is a goddamn lie!” exclaimed Loren. “You know naturally small guys try to gain weight all the time. And I wasn’t lying when I told you how hot you are. I love big, thick guys. Why else would I have had that raging boner when we traded clothes?”

Donnie never realized that was a thing. He didn’t need to be closer to the movie star standard to turn people on? “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah! I think you look wonderful at three fifteen, but I also want you to be comfortable in your body. Just know that whether you lose weight, gain weight, or maintain weight, you are someone’s reason to jack off! But that makes much more sense. Having gained from two ninety-seven to three fifteen is much more reasonable. They try to make the food in here as calorie-packed as possible so they can make less and still give us our recommended calories per day. Eating one serving of everything per day in here will give you between 2,500 and 2,750 Calories, and you’ve been eating... at least double that, so if you came into prison a little hungry and/or dehydrated, it’s not too much of a stretch to think you’d fluctuate eighteen pounds in ten days.

Donnie wasn’t sure what he felt. Did he actually like to gain weight? He had a boner while Loren was explaining it all, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He decided not to eat dinner, which concerned Loren deeply, but Loren supported his friend, regardless.

The next morning, Donnie woke up ravenously hungry. He could hardly wait to get to the cafeteria, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to eat. He got the food - fake eggs, soupy oatmeal, and mystery sausage - and a little farther from the main guys in the cafeteria than his and Loren’s usual spot. Loren seemed confused, but Donnie made it clear that he did want Loren to sit with him.

“Alright, look. I got a boner when the doctor weighed and measured me, but I didn’t get a boner when they weighed me as I entered jail. I want to talk to you about this, because I’m wondering if I’m like you. Maybe I like being a big guy.” Donnie started. “What do I do?”

“Well, in my completely unbiased opinion,” Loren started sarcastically, “where would be better to experiment with something like this than in prison? We will be safe as big guys, and you can always blame your weight gain on prison food when you get out. Tell them exactly what I told you. You might even be able to stay the course, decide if you like being bigger, and then lose the weight before you get out of here.”

Donnie didn’t know if he was convinced, had already been onboard, or was just too hungry to come to any other conclusion. He tipped his plate of eggs into his mouth in one bite, literally drank his oatmeal, and ate both sausages at once. “How much more can I get?”

Loren had been grinning slightly and broke into a full on, almost devilish smile at the question. “Let me get rid of my boner and then we can get as much as you want.” After talking about their chores for the day, they both got seconds and Loren gave all his food to Donnie. They did that one more time before they left breakfast, but Donnie thought he could eat more.

I’m three hundred and fifteen pounds, thought Donnie. And I love it.

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay part 16, What Lurks?

Summary - Leonardo assesses Mikey’s physical and mental state. 

Tags - @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @ilo-artistry

Content warnings: Medical exams, medical assessments

Everything was wrong. Wrong and so very dark. Mikey felt as if the clouds had fallen from the sky and come to settle in his mind; yet, despite the mental lag that weighed on him like lead, his body felt impossibly light, almost drifting. He had to find them; he had to find his team! But he felt like he was suffocating, like there was hundred pound weight bearing down on his chest. There was… something that he was wading through. Something that shifted and rippled and flowed around him like a cool, moving blanket.

He had to find his team. He had to get back to the mission! He had to find that mutagen and he had to find his way! And… he had to wake up…

“Ow…?” Mikey opened one eye, and then the other as he was suddenly and acutely aware of strong fingers digging into his muscles. His head was throbbing with a steady thump thump thump.

“Mike.” Donnie’s voice was breathless and urgent, but nonetheless gentle as he momentarily paused his massage in favor of more important exams. 

“Ah— again with the light?” Mikey whined and raised a hand to cover his eyes as Donnie shined his flashlight in them.

Donnie returned to the painful massage. “Do you know your name?”

“Mikey…”

“Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?” The more questions Donnie asked, the more pressing his voice became. When Mikey didn't respond, Donnie repeated himself louder and clearer.

Mikey could only sputter. He knew he should know those answers, but when he reached out to grab them, they slipped through his fingers like sand. His eyes grew wider, and he shook his head. Why couldn’t he remember?

Leonardo was there too; Mikey didn't notice him until the red eared slider moved directly in front of him and waved a hand. The motion made Mikey focus on him, though at the time there seemed to be more than one of the blue-clad ninja, like Mikey was seeing double.

Leonardo, as opposed to Donnie’s bombardment, only asked a single question. “Can you tell me who is best turtle?”

Mikey’s face wrinkled in his concentration, and then split in a grin. Now that he could remember! “Trick question, it’s me! I’m a triple threat: brains, brawns, and a dazzling personality.”

Leonardo couldn’t have smiled wider if he tried. Now that Mikey could focus better on the room around him, which slowly came back to him as the infirmary, he finally located the source of the thumping that he had thought was just in his head. He saw Donatello hanging in the background, the young mutant looking blatantly bored, like he’d rather be doing anything else at that moment. He was bouncing a tiny, purple ball against the wall, catching it, and then bouncing it again in a steady rhythm. Unlike the other turtles, he didn't seem to notice nor care that Mikey was awake; his only acknowledgement was to Mikey’s self-declaration of being best turtle.

“Well that is too bad, because I am a quadruple threat.” Donatello bounced the ball one last time, then caught it as he made his way over to the group. “Strong, funny, amusing, and hilarious.”

“Aren’t three of those just synonyms?” Donnie questioned without looking up from Mikey’s tensed muscles.

“You.” Donatello said. “I do not like you.”

“But I like the confidence!” Leonardo declared, and held out his hand to Mikey. “High three!”

Mikey was all too glad to meet the inviting gesture— that is, until his hand seemed to faze through Leonardo. Mikey frowned, and then he tried again with the same result. He missed? If Leonardo noticed Mikey’s confusion, he didn’t show any reaction to it. Instead, he grabbed Donatello’s ball, much to the grievance of his twin, and tossed it up in the air a few times.

“D’ya wanna play catch?” Leonardo offered, his smile slight and soft. He grabbed the ball between his thumb and pointer finger, showing the tiny rubber toy off to Mikey. “Might help you concentrate~”

Having something to do with his hands did help. Mikey nodded eagerly and held out the arm that wasn’t currently being assaulted by Donnie’s therapeutic rubbing. Leonardo swung his arm back and forth a few time, allowing Mikey the chance to focus before Leonardo tossed the ball with a careful swing. Mikey’s eyes followed the ball as it glided smoothly through the air, and he raised his hand to catch it. It slipped right through his hands. 

Mikey blinked. His eyes pinched together as they searched and eventually found the ball on the floor rolling away from him. He missed? Again? Now he had a tight pain in his chest, one that refused to go away. A ball of discomfort and anxiety and fear that grew bigger and bigger, trying to force itself up his throat to choke him.

“Are you playing tricks?” He didn't know why his voice sounded the way it did, like a child who hadn’t yet found the confidence to speak up.

Donnie frowned at the weakness of the voice, gently cupping Mikey’s head in a hand to tilt him back and examine his throat. Mikey gave a low churr of disapproval, but didn't resist.

“No tricks!” Leonardo said, and he held up his hands as a show of surrender. He held that stance for a few seconds more before gathering the ball from where it had fallen and placing it back into Mikey’s hand. “Okay, now you pass it to me.”

Donnie backed away from Mikey to let him have space while the younger box turtle stuck out his tongue and tried his best to focus on Leonardo’s shifting figure. It was like a filter had been laid over Mikey’s vision. A filter that made Leonardo seem as if he were in constant, blurred motion and made his voice like something at the end of a cavern.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Came the echo of Leonardo’s voice, so distant and lost to Mikey’s ears. The tunnel was so dark, and the sewage was up to his knees and uncomfortably warm. He breathed, but it burned so he did it as little as possible. For the republic, he had to keep moving. Mutagen was fuel, mutagen was life, and there was mutagen in this dark place. He just had to get back to Commander Mozar and find it. Mozar would know what to do. He was hand-picked by the prime leader himself!

There was someone calling his name. His commander? No, someone more familiar, more like a brother. Zog? No… no that wasn’t it either.

“Leon…?” There was a slick, cool hand pressed over Mikey’s forehead.

“Hey, bud.” Leonardo said, and he was smiling; Donnie’s face was turned into a tight frown. “You zoned out for a sec. All good?”

“Head hurts…” Mikey swatted Leonardo away and tried to sit up.

“Hey hey hey hey!” Leonardo didn't let Mikey get very far, “Easy. You need to lay now.”

“No… no we need to find him!”

Leonardo cocked his head. “Find who?”

“I… him!” Was all Mikey could offer, “He’s scared and alone.”

“Where is he?”

“I… I don’t know!” Mikey knew he should know but he didn't, and in retaliation against his own mind he began to repeatedly strike himself right between his eyes. Donnie intervened before he could hit himself more than twice, forcing Mikey to lower his arm but only making the box turtle more frustrated.

“Mikey, take it easy.” Donnie tried, but Mikey didn't seem to care about doctor's orders. He started to try and resist Donnie’s efforts to keep him still. “Little help here?”

Leonardo was hesitant to lay a hand on the thrashing Mikey, but when he finally found a hold, he pressed down firmly on the older turtle. His attempt to restrain the mutant wasn’t very effective, and when Mikey was able to stand, Leonardo pulled back and simply let Mikey leave while Donnie kept trying to stop him.

“Ge’ off!” Mikey shook his shoulders trying to dislodge his brother.

“Mikey, what—?” Donnie was unrelenting.

“GET OFF!”

Mikey got as far as the doorway before he was picked up around the middle and carried back inside by Raphael, holding the shinobi like he was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. He laid Mikey back down on the bed and Donnie skirted around the snapping turtles shell, grabbing Mikey’s arm to keep him still while Mikey tried to shake the grabbing hands off of him.

“Mikey, if you don't stay down I’m gonna have to strap you down.” Donnie said with a voice even and placid.

“What happened?” Raphael’s lips pulled into a frown, his hand going down to feel Mikey’s forehead.

“I don’t know, he just freaked out.” Donnie said calmly. He ran his hand across Mikey’s cheek and made soft, shushing noises intended to sooth. “How is Yoshi?”

“Yeah, he uh… he’s fine.” Raphael said absently, his head nodding along with his words, “Just hate to think how long he was alone for…” 

“Mikey, do you know where dad went?” Donnie asked softly; Mikey seemed calmer now, no longer resisting his bedrest, but his teeth were still bared to show his discontent. Donnie sighed. “Guessed not.”

Raphael laid a hand on Donnie’s shoulder and prompted the box turtle to look up at him. “He can’t have gone far. Maybe he just wanted to explore a bit.”

“He wouldn’t just leave your father here alone.” Donnie sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re probably right.” Raphael admitted. “Your Leo’s probably going crazy.”

Donnie closed his eyes and, ever so slowly, leaned his head back as he sucked a deep breath through his nostrils. Then he lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to nurse a growing migraine.

“I’ll go talk with him. Can you sit here with Mikey?”

“Of course.” Raphael said with a patient nod, sitting beside the bed and resting a hand over Mikey’s plastron.

Donnie left the two younger turtles in charge of his brother while he left the room in search of the oldest. He first found Michelangelo and Raph in the exercise room; the massive box turtle practically had steam rising off of his muscles from the heat of his body, slick with sweat and eyes focused determinedly on the ceiling above him as he worked his reps. Michelangelo wasn’t exercising, but he seemed to be having a good time hanging onto the bar while Raph lifted it so he could dangle and swing like a monkey. Donnie felt his migraine only worsen as he slumped against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with enough force to make stars dance in his vision.

Raph had been in that same spot since they had made the discovery of their fathers absence several hours before, and Donnie could practically smell the frustration and understand it too, because he felt the exact same way. He needed to go and find his father before something awful happened, but he couldn’t leave with a clear conscience with Mikey in the state he was in. When it came to the choice of which was more important to him…

Donnie shook his head. Mikey would always come first. He and his brothers had agreed on that when they were little, and that agreement would live as long as they did. Splinter was strong and Splinter was capable, and right now Mikey needed them more. All of them.That didn't make the worry for his dad any less burning.

“You gonna say something?” Raph’s voice rumbled, “Or just stand there starin’?”

Donnie laughed, but it was a half-hearted and weak laugh. He shook his head and didn't bother to answer the question verbally. He simply walked into the room to stand over Raph; the middle child didn't pause his reps, not even for his brother.

“How’s Mike?” Was Raph’s next question.

Donnie almost naturally reached out an arm so that Michelangelo could climb onto him, and Michelangelo was more than happy to do just that. He swung on his friends arm with happily, monkey-like giggles while the other brothers retained composure and hardly reacted to the childish games.

“Awake.” Donnie said, “Confused. Raphael and the other Leonardo are with him now.”

“Good.” Raph kept pumping, eyes focused.

Donnie sighed. He carefully picked Michelangelo off of his arm, one of his hands enough to completely engulf the box turtle's plastron, and placed him on the ground. He stepped over the smaller mutant and grabbed Raph’s bar, yanking it pointedly from Raph and replacing it on its shelf. Raph’s eyes sharpened, snapping to Donnie and ready to give him hell before he saw the icy, cobra look in Donnie’s eyes. Instead of yelling, or saying anything, Raph simply sat up and shouldered his way past Donnie. They didn't need to exchange words for Donnie to know where Raph was headed.

Donnie shook his head once more before grabbing Michelangelo, who had his arms up asking to be held. He carried Michelangelo the rest of the way back to the infirmary; Raph was there, kneeling on the ground beside the bed and holding Mikey’s hand in his. He was talking slow and soft words to his youngest brother, words Donnie couldn’t make out, but the intent was there. Donnie plopped Michelangelo down on the floor and turned back around, leaving the rest of his family and continuing his search for Leo.

He found his eldest brother in the zen room; the room itself wasn't very well-maintained, once teal paint peeling off the walls and plants that were either overgrown and swallowing the walls of the room or dead at the root. The dead ones were the fault of none— being so low in the sewer, access to any sort of sunlight was a scare rarity that growing such plants were always difficult. For the rest of the plants, it was sheer neglect that led them to grow as immensely overpowering as they had, seeking any glint of light to sustain them. Leo sat in a lotus position in front of a green pool, just as neglected and forgotten as the plants, though it seemed to be from natural deterioration and not any contamination from the sewage around them. 

“Hello Donatello.” Leo said without bothering to open his eyes or drop his position. “How is Michelangelo?”

“He’s okay.” Donnie sat beside his brother; his long legs weren’t built for the lotus position, so he just sprawled out and got comfortable. He had the feeling he was going to be here for a while. “Are you?”

Leo took his time to consider the question, rolling potential words around on his tongue before he settled for something that felt right. “I am dealing, considering. If Michelangelo is well, then we should think about going after father. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah.” Donnie nodded, “Everyone’s sitting in with Mike to keep him company.”

Leo nodded slowly and finally opened sapphire eyes. “Then perhaps just us two should go. Let Raphael and our friends stay here with Mikey. We can move faster on our own.”

Donnie couldn’t help but agree with that, but there was still a twinge of doubt that refused to be ignored. “These aren’t our sewers, Leo. We should bring at least one of the Hamato’s to lead the way.”

Leo considered. “Alright. We’ll take the other Leonardo then. Perhaps his sense of direction is as good as mine.”

Leo’s sense of direction had always been advance, far more than his brothers. You could place him in the heart of a maze and within minutes he would be able to find his way back out again. He knew he would be able to navigate these sewers even with what little knowledge he had of them, but Donnie’s anxiety was never something to ignore. Leo took a final, sharp breath before standing, inclining his head ever so slightly toward his brother.

“Let’s go now. No time to waste.”

“But— but Leo, we can’t take both me and Hamato Leo, we need a medic here in case Mikey has another fit.” Donnie reasoned.

“Fine, then we’ll take the other Donnie.” Leo decided promptly, waving for his brother to follow. Donnie obeyed.

“What about other Raph? It might help to have some extra muscle if we find ourselves in a pinch.”

“Uh.” Leo looked down at his bicep and, just for good measure, he flexed to make the muscles more defined.

“You know what I meant.” Donnie’s eyes rolled, but he pursued the issue no further. There was very little time to do so even if he wanted, because already they were entering the med bay.

Mikey had his eyes closed, lips pulled down in a tight frown as he stretched his head back as far as his neck allowed. Despite the position, Donnie knew he wasn’t asleep; he knew his brother too well to assume such things. All eyes turned to them as the two entered, and both older Splinterson’s could feel the shift in energies tingling their skin. 

“What’s up?” Leo asked. 

Donnie’s instinct was to immediately go to Mikey, doing a quick check of his vitals and finding them as steady as they had been when he left. Donatello seemed to be the only one of the turtles who wasn’t entirely on edge, taking the time to yawn and stretch before pulling out his phone and pulling up an article. He held his phone out where the older brothers could see that it was a current article posted just hours before, the headline bold enough to catch anyone's attention.

DINOSAUR SEEN IN SEWERS

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Hiii more chubby!reader stories pwease??🥺🥺🥺❤ Love your work

Thank you so much! I’ve already done Donnie so how about Raph next? I feel like he adores a chubby ‘gal!

________________

Tight, little, black, denim shorts are the way to go. Tonight is going to be special because you’re finally going to make a real move on Raph, it’s not like you guys haven’t flirted before- far from it. He makes a point to constantly tell you how well your clothes hug you in all the right places or to not look away when you catch him clearly checking you out. You had also, kind of, been on a few dates. At least, you like to think of them as dates. Him taking you out to the rooftops and telling you stories about the city and all the fights they had gotten into. Where they had pranked Mikey or all the times Leo was a jerk pulling rank on them for “no good reason”.

You route around in your wardrobe a little more, a dark red bralette should catch his attention so you throw that on along with a leather jacket. The less you wear the better, in your mind. You are confident about how you look, you ‘re a little chubby angel and it’s adorable how these shorts show your little belly but to say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. It’s always at the back of your mind that “what if he’s just being polite?” or “he could out right reject me” but, you had to push those worries away and be brave. It’s coming to the end of summer and cuffing season is approaching fast so you better sink your claws into him while there’s still time. Besides, they live in the sewers, how many other girls could possibly be throwing themselves at them when they never leave the lair and hide in the shadows?

Ok, ok, ok you think to yourself as you loiter outside the entrance to the lair, shaking your hands about and trying to give yourself a much needed pep talk. You’re a badass bitch from hell and he’s gonna love you you repeat to yourself under your breath, trying to make yourself believe it. What’s the thing Raph always says? Oh yeah, no regrets no fear! You open the door and walk in, swaying your hips a little bit extra from side to side and that’s when you hear it- a wolf whistle from the sofa and you know it’s him. You turn around and strike a pose with the biggest smile on your face and he can finally see you in full and take you all in.

“God damn, you get all dressed up for me?” he purrs

“like you should be so lucky!” you sass back. He loves this playful side of you and it shows from the way he eyes you up and down in appreciation. 

You walk over and sit on the coffee table in front of him, making sure your movements are slow and deliberate to keep his attention. You look him in the eyes and take a deep breath.

“loo, Raph. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you”

“Anything” he encourages

“Well, we’ve been hanging out for a while and it’s been so fun but...”

“Oh no” he starts “this is the part where ya break my heart, in’t it” he says with a half smile

“Break your heart? No, never! I just... What are we?” you kind of blurt out “are we dating, are we not? Do you even like me in that way?”

He places a hand on your knee and gives you a naughty smile

“I like you in that bra” he winks

You blush, mentally patting yourself on the back for making the choice to go with the bralette.

“I just want us to be...Something official. I want to kiss you and go on dates and sit on your lap” you kind of hurry over that last thing, a little worried you might be to heavy for it.

“I want that too” his tone a little more shy. “so get your ass over here” he says, patting his lap

“Oh, I don’t know...I’m a little on the heavy side I wouldn’t want to hurt you” 

He laughs loudly at that, throwing his head back so you can see that brilliant smile of his.

“I can bench press 400LB with ease and you think your chubby ass could do any damage to me?” With that he pulls you off your perch on the coffee table and manoeuvres you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he does.

You’ve never really been able to feel Raph as close as you can right now, and you’re loving being able to feel how toned and muscular his thighs are beneath your own, how his biceps bulge as you run your hands down his arms and how taught his chest is with muscle. He’s a force of nature and you just want to be consumed by him.

“see, you weigh nothing to me” he points out and you smile. “now, where’s the kiss I was promised?” he says with a sly tone in his voice

You smile and slowly lean in, wishing to savour every second of this first kiss.

You lips meet his, tenderly kiss his upper lip before moving to his lower one and repeating this action a few times before it grows more intense and passionate.You place one arm around his shoulder to balance yourself while the other hand goes to his cheek. His skin is so warm and softer than you imagined it would be.

When you pull away he beams up at you before hiding his face in the crook of your neck

“I’ve been waiting to do that for months!” he exclaims

“so have I” you giggle

You stay as you are for a little while, just holding each other and enjoying the odd kiss here and there between soft, affectionate whispers to one another. His arms still wrapped protectively around you and his thumb occasionally rubbing circles on the small of your back just to remind you he was still there, still thinking about you and only you. You want to stay like this forever and you get the idea that the feeling is mutual.

Fin.  

[aliaslua]

Right to live

Chapter 02 of my on going series: In broad daylight

Chapter summary: Michelangelo has a productive therapy session after his interview. April and Casey announce their wedding and in a jealousy crisis, Donatello has his first one-night-stand. Warning: This chapter contain light smut (mature, not explicit) if you're a minor please DON'T INTERACT. TW: Trauma mention (nothing too graphic or descriptive, but it does contain a short account of a panic attack).

Michelangelo started therapy after his first panic attack.

It was - maybe - the worst night of his life. At that point in time he didn’t even knew what a trigger was - and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to identify or anticipate his reaction. If felt like he was dying in a literal, visceral sense. It was like having a bomb growing inside his shell, the beating counting down to a heart attack, he felt his lips cold, his head heavy and the touch of Donatello’s hand in his shoulders felt cold against his skin for the first time in his life. He could still remembers his brothers calling to him and his inhuman effort to look them in the eyes, just as he gazed into the house he grew up in and didn’t recognize the color of the new floor tiles.

The rest was a blur.

Dr. Miller was April’s last effort to persuade Leo and Raph that Mikey needed professional counseling. At this point, Mikey didn't have enough will to have a strong opinion on his treatment, he didn't have the will to do anything, really. All his days were spent sleeping by day and having terrible night anxiety, followed by an earth-shattering cry until morning, when he went back to sleep.  Despite their best effort to care for and protect the younger sibling, all of his brothers knew that he had become impossible to handle - and more important than that, his emotional and physical dependency got so intense that it was perfectly clear that there was nothing they could do: Michelangelo need help, professional help.

On the first day they entered Dr. Miller’s office, April had reassured everybody she had send the therapist recent photos of Mikey and explained all his possible triggers in detail. The clinic would open two hours early so that they could have privacy and that this first encounter would include Mikey, his brothers and Sara Miller only.

Mikey was so nervous he felt like this situation alone would end up triggering his next attack: his hands were sweaty, his chest heavy and the feeling in his stomach made him realize that maybe he would throw up all those recent pizza slices. When the door to her office opened, he felt an immediate relief upon looking at her.

Sara (as he would start calling her later) was a 67 years old black woman, wearing a knitted cardigan and a puffy ponytail. She looked at him with eyes free from any king of judgment: any kind of feeling at all, actually, it was very… neutral. After gazing at him and his brothers she had smiled lightly and then calmly said:

"Good morning. I am Dr. Miller. Are you Michelangelo?" Mikey just nodded " Welcome. Please, come in.”

So he did, on that Monday morning and all the next yet to come, for two years straight.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“Did you see the interview?” Mikey asked just as he entered her office, not even worrying about greeting Sara.

“Yes I did.” She answered with the same peaceful deep voice, unbothered by the absence of a greet “You looked very handsome.”

“I sure did!” The mutant turtle seated at the large red sofa, his body melting in the comfortable cushions, he grabbed one of the small pillows behind him and held it tight against his chest “Ugh! It was so fun!”

Sara smiled. She always gave him a kind of smile that made Mikey feel like she was the perfect embodiment of a fairytale grandma and for the first time, Michelangelo actually considered she might actually be someone else’s grandmother.

“I am glad to hear that. Did you do the exercises he practiced?”

Mikey hummed “It helped. But what really made all difference was that Leo was there. And April. Oh, April is getting married!” He announced “She and Casey told us about the engagement just after we all saw the interview air. It was a great night.” He stopped for a minute and laid his head against the couch, focusing on the abstract painting that always caught his attention since the first day he sat there, he knew his voice let out a sadness he was trying to hide. He didn’t need to pretend there.

“It was… Weird, I guess… Like, I should be happy for them, right? Casey is a nice man, he treats her right, they already have a life together, an apartment with a huge TV and an aquarium… I can’t argue with that, right? Right?” Sara didn’t answer, Michelangelo laid his head completely on the couch, staring at the sealing “She was my first love…. Or something like it. I feel so attached to her and…” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to measure all the feelings filling his chest “...I think I… Should I feel happy for her? Because I felt… Huh, I felt betrayed.”

“Do you feel resentment?” Dr. Miller finally asked, gazing calmly at him.

“Yeah, I guess… I didn’t know what I expected... and I don’t want to marry April. Not anymore, I mean. She is like a sister to me. No! It’s more than that… She’s like… I- It just.. it was all so fast! Everything is so fast right now, and she decided to announce just as the interview ended and I felt so… I felt so overshadowed!”

“You felt it was your night.”

“It WAS my night. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, you know? I just… Wished they had waited.”

Sara looked at her patient making a conscious effort to avoid giving away her own feelings, the enormous man in front her had a gloomy expression and tired eyes.

“Mikey, is not the first time you mention feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“ Overshadowed .” She quoted him.

“Yeah… I guess it's something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

“You mentioned once that you felt… Smushed, is the word you used.”

“Yeah. Smushed between my brothers.”

“Hmm” Sara nodded “What about that?”

“Well, you know about that… They are all special in their own way. Leo is the leader, Raph is the muscle, Donnie is the genius, I am the… Comic relief?”

“You sound like you are all characters of a cartoon.”

“We look like it!” Mikey said, humorous. Sara did her best  to contain a tiny smile that formed in her cheeks.

“Well, you are your own person, Mikey. You don’t have to fulfill an imaginary role you fantasized for yourself.”

“Yeah I feel like you’re always telling me that.” He sighed “What this has to do with April?”

“You were telling me about her engagement…”

“Yeah. It was crazy… I mean, me, Leo and Raph kept it together but Donnie just… Bolted.” A nervous laugh escaped him “She told the news and he just… Left. I guess it was too much for him. You know, April was the only person we knew for so long… It was only natural to fall for her, right? She’s so nice, kind, and after the expected first meeting shock she treated us with… Dignity is the world Master Splinter likes to use... But then we all grew out of it.”

A long silence followed before he complemented:

“I guess Donnie didn’t”

���━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Donatello felt his feet too tight against the leather shoe and considered for the third time on that evening that maybe this was a terrible idea.

Ignoring his own better judgement, he knocked.

Alicia Ellis awakened in him two utterly contradictory and madding feelings: disgust and lust.

Many times he had tried - and succeeded- at disguising the amount of attention he paid to her body, especially since the context they first met didn’t allowed for flirtatious endeavors and despite knowing his physical body was searching it’s hormonal peak, Donatello proud himself on being utterly respectful: an effort that he felt he was making alone. Ellis never even tried to hide her indiscreet wants, playing with their encounters just enough to not be considered harassment, but clear enough to not allow ambiguity. Was that even possible? Donnie asked himself. Did it even matter now?

He felt disgusted mostly towards himself, actually, knowing full well why he had come to her apartment after that eventful night, just as the women he thought he could win over announced her engagement to the man he honestly felt he could one day surpass - pathetic, he beat himself again, cringing at the mere fact he once imagined a possible future for them, together. What a pathetic, emotional, delusional monster you are, dreaming about the pretty girl that once held your hand… And now you surrender to your most selfish desire, luring this woman who will be stupid enough to let you in.

This is going to ruin you. Was the last thing he thought before she opened the door.

She was astonishingly beautiful, with her thick luxurious wavy hair and round plump figure, pressed against a tight outfit he didn’t have enough interest to notice in detail.

“Took you long enough.” She said in a malicious tone, grabbing him by his belt. The apartment was warm, had a delicious floral smell and it was lit in subtle yellow light that mimicked candles. It was sexy, inviting and terribly scary, just like her.

This is going to ruin me . The feeling echoed towards Donnie as he willfully closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t hard for him to understand why a woman like her would take interest in being with a man like him, the internet had allowed Donnie to have a very indiscreet access to the human world - especially since people seemed really comfortable in sharing online things they wouldn’t even tell a best friend - and he knew way before they even came out to the surface that most probably wouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to share a bed with him. Alicia was just a part of a very niche - yet not so small as one may think - group.

The thought brought him a small relief and a strike of courage that he much needed at that moment.

“I didn’t think you would come.” She said, bringing two glasses of a clear-yellow liquid. What an inappropriate move to bring a glass of white wine to a young adult not-yet-of-age , his better judgment told him as he accepted the glass, but wasn’t he 21 yet? Yes, he was... Maybe it was just judgment.

“Me neither” He answered after a sigh, too honest for his own sake.

“What changed your mind?” She mischievously asked, crossing her legs in an angle that brushed against his knee.

Donatello considered for a minute to said the truth, my heart was broken and honestly I really want to have sex, how would she respond to that? Was there a polite way of saying it? Instead, he said: “I’ve decided to change my approach on things.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled honestly “...And how’s that gonna happen?”

I will take every opportunity that life gives me, irrespective of its consequences, “I’ll stop sabotaging my wants…” He turned his body a little bit in her direction, he had planned a second sentence to follow but it seemed like he had already said all she needed to hear.

She slid her knee between his legs to climb his lap, brushing the space between the buttons of his shirt lightly. How quickly she hopped on top of him and how quickly his body responded to the feel of her warm perfumed breath against his neck. “That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t Donatello’s first kiss but the tension of feeling the soft lips of a woman he barely knew nothing about added to the oh-so-suggestive friction of her thighs against  his zipper made it an entirely new experience. If he granted himself a moment of reason, Donnie would most likely find her too hurried and eager - but again, what was his experience in this field? Wasn’t this how the encounter should go? What else was he expecting? Independent of what his reason may have considered, the friction of her palms against the now prominent bulge in his pants added to the delicious sounds coming from her throat made every single indecision go away.

He felt his head light and dizzy as their tongues danced against each other and the urge to feel relief made him bold. She answered the squeeze he gave her bottom with an audible moan that gave Donatello’s stomach a cold wave of shock along with the first visible stain in between his paints. She felt the thickness of his fluid against the fabric and smiled against his lips.

“Such a passionate… response.” She said in what sounded like a performative tone - well, she was a journalist.

He took her incentive and slide her tube dress above her ass, stoking it as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her skin was soft and the way it reacted to his mouth - the small flinches of her body and the building pressure between his legs could only compare to the amazing feeling of her silk soft thigh skin. She used her hands to guide his head further down, lowering the piece of garment herself, he instinctively took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the contrast between the soft skin of her breasts and the beaded texture of her nipples.

When Alicia laid her body against him on the couch, he followed her moves and felt the soft pillow against his head, the discreet but unmistakable sound of his zipper being opened followed by her stocked gasp at his member followed by “Oh I’m gonna have fun tonight!”. Donatello held her waist closer to his own, trying to reach her lips again, wondering if he could say the same. The warmth between her legs and the delicious feeling that jolted through his body and she aligned him to her entry - and the irresistible pleasure of feeling his tip tease her plump lips - made him think that the most likely answer was yes .

...And what an unnecessary concern the wine proved to be: he didn’t even get to drink it.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“...you know, Raph made a friend.” Mikey had stood on his feet and now looked through the squared window. He had a regular habit of standing up during the sessions, usually as they were reaching the middle of the appointment. Sara it wrote down anyway, before adding:

“Really?”

Mikey hummed “...It’s a complicated story - but he left to buy a bear, this old man didn’t want to sell it to him, so he got really angry, so someone threatened to call the police, so he started to freak out and then this… girl appeared!”  He was switching his body height between his legs “Clara. What a name! Heh- I don’t get to say that, huh? Well, her name was Clara and he said she looked like an anime version of a character from Fresh prince of bel air … Can you imagine?” He turned to look at her. Sara just nodded.

“Wanna hear some really crazy stuff? Raph told me that they were talking and she told him she saw my interview… and she said she was in love with me!” He offered his therapist an incredulous happy smile “ME! Can you believe it?”

Sara hummed and made another note.

“I know she was kidding, I don’t think she loves me. But saying it like this sounds like… Like I am a celebrity! Like she would like to know me… Like…”

“Like you have been seen.”

“HELL YEAH!” He exclaimed, sitting down on the couch again grabbing his trust-worthy pillow “... And that sucker didn’t even got her number…” A deep sigh followed silence. Very discreetly, Dr. Miller checked her watch.

“It doesn’t matter, really, it just made me realize… That I wished I had someone…”

More silence.

“-I know I already have someone, if that's what you’re gonna say… I know my brothers are my care net and that I have friends and confidants, and bla bla bla”.

“Well I wasn’t going to…” She said peacefully.

“ I want… A lover . Someone to be my special one. Someone to cherish and spoil and share my life with! Someone who can say they’re in love with me… For real.”

More deep silence.

“... And why don’t you?” She finally prompted. Michelangelo turned to look at her with a impatient expression:

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

“I am definitely not.”

“You can’t be that cynical!”

“I am not.”

“Sara…” He sighed uneasily “... not this again.” she heard pain in his words.

“You have the right to live, Mikey.” She gazed at him with the same kind eyes, letting her strong words get to him “...Just like anyone else.”

This time, that was an anxious silence. Michelangelo rubbed his hands together as if he was facing a cold storm “What if it happens again?”

“Then you will do what we practiced.” She waited for an answer that didn’t come “... Do you wanna remember it once again with me?”

He simply nodded.

“I am more…” She started.

“...than people perceive me.”

“I’ve the right…”

“...to occupy space.”

“No one…”

“No one can deny me my right to live.”

“That was great, Mikey.” Dr. Miller said kindly.

He squeezed the tears away from his eyes, not even realizing they were there. “...Yeah… Yeah, it was.”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

It was certainly.... Memorable , Donatello thought, staring at his brand new shoes as they made the path back to the lair. How was it again that he found himself in that situation? That sad looking, empty feeling, walk-of-shame. Oh, yeah, Alicia Ellis.

Something felt terrible wrong about that whole endeavor. He tried to think about the details, to analyze the facts: it has been clearly consensual, sober, communicative sex. So why did he feel like some part of him had been left behind in that apartment? Was it his clear shyness when they finally consumed the act or her generous overlook at his even clearer lack of experience? Had him fail his mission? Factually not! He performed… Fine - it was hard to measure, but she seemed pleased enough. He was also pleased… Physically, at least.

So why did he feel so… Empty?

He walked among the streets of New York without the concern his older brother seemed to carry. Donatello was always really good at not carrying - just as he was good at carrying too much . Oh, yes, his overthinking nature was still going to kill him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, everything mattered. What a contradictory and childish state of mind. Could he ever find balance? Would he ever be able to take risks and still be prudent? To be disappointed and not lose all faith? To love deeply and move over from it, stronger and ready to love again? Did he ever truly love her ?

He remembered her ring shining against the light, mocking his defeat. A zirconium, Casey Jones…  Can’t even buy her a real diamond . He muttered to himself and the night, kicking a small rock in the path.

The worst part, the real strike of the devil - was the fact that she looked immensely happy. Heartbreakingly happy. And there was nothing, nothing in this world that Donnie could think that could justify taking this away from her - not even the fantasy that she could be happier.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the keys in his pocket. That was no way out of it: we would have to get over her. At least now he knew that running away to unknown women’s homes was not a viable solution.

[bi-ressler]

Coming Home [RessGale]

@skiesfallithurts requested "Coming home + RessGale" for this ask meme (still taking prompts if you want to send something in! Could take me some time though due to real life)

Title: Coming Home Relationship: Julian Gale/Donald Ressler Characters: Julian Gale, Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott (mentioned), Raymond Reddington (mentioned), others (mentioned) Words: 10.891 Setting: Post-Prescott-Arc AU Warnings: Abuse of prescription meds (aka Donnie is back on oxy and I'm not even remotely sorry), sexual assault (non-explicit, but it's being discussed), homophobia very briefly mentioned A/N: I've had this idea in my head for literal ages and thanks to the prompt I'm finally doing it! So thanks for indulging me :D Also, this got away from me (again) and turned out way (WAAAAAY) longer than it should have. Oops! - - - As always, English isn't my first language, this isn't beta'd and all mistakes are mine. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) (Also, tumblr keeps fucking up the formatting, so if the sentence breaks up in the middle of the paragraph, blame hellsite dot com.)

[Read HERE on ao3!]

__________________________________________

Falling back into old habits and unhealthy coping-mechanisms is far too easy, Donald finds. But when everything crumbles around him, and all the poorly concealed cracks and insufficiently closed gaps and holes in his armour, in his life, finally give out and leave nothing but rubble and guilt and dread, it's the only way he can think of not to fall into complete despair and drown himself in self-pity.

But maybe he's already past that point.

Maybe this is what drowning actually feels like, and there's definitely no lack of self-pity on his behalf.

So he downs the pills with a swig of beer, ignoring the fact that this feels far too familiar, far too much like coming home after a storm, soaking wet and shaking to lay down on the warm carpet and breathe for the first time.

It was all a mistake.

The last six years, it was all one big mistake and right now, he'd give everything to go back in time, erase Reddington from his mind, never join that damned taskforce that had him spiralling to this point from day one. Hell, he'd go even further, never become an agent in the first place - maybe open up a coffee shop in Detroid or become a banker or lawyer or anything at all, as long as it's as far away from Reddington and this whole mess as possible.

That way, he'd never meet Henry Prescott. He'd never murder Laurel Hitchin. He'd never let down everyone in his life, most of all himself, and Audrey would still be alive, and Julian would still be with the bureau ---

Julian.

The guilt comes back full force, because if anyone didn't deserve the fate they got, it would be Julian. Hard working, fierce, loving Julian.

He dry-swallows another pill for good measure, shoulders his go-bag and disappears down an empty alley, unseen by cameras and cops and anyone who might recognize him.

He's not sure if he can go on like this.

He's been on the run for nearly a week now; a week of hiding, paranoia, always looking over his shoulder and ducking into the shadows. Where he once felt safe when he heard the siren of a police car, he now starts running. It's exhausting and he cowers lower into the corner of the abandoned building he's staying in tonight.

Another pill. The shivers lessen. The bottle is almost empty.

He leans his head back against the cold concrete and curses his need for justice, his stupid-ass decision of accepting this life as punishment for his actions.

No, that's not right, he thinks.

If he really was after justice, he wouldn't have run. He would have faced the consequences like a man, faced jail-time and public humiliation.

Instead, he'd been crushed by his own guilt after Prescott's death, written his confession with a shakey hand and left it on his desk, before grabbing the go-bag from the trunk of his car and running.

By morning Cooper must have found it, and in the afternoon he'd seen his face on the news. He has no idea where to go from here.

He pops another pill and curses when he reminds himself to cut back and save what little of the drugs he still has left.

---

The thing about guilt is, Ressler thinks, that despite what everyone says, it doesn't lessen over the years. He still feels guilty about ruining his brother's chance of a career as a cop, and he still feels guilty about Hitchin and Wright and Prescott and every crime Reddington committed right in front of his eyes.

He still feels guilty about what happened to Julian - the first time, after that operation in Kabul went so horribly wrong and Julian took the blame for it, both of them knowing full well that Ressler had been in charge and made the decision to fire, but being stubborn enough to convince IA that it had been his fault, handing over his badge and service weapon with an unreadable look towards Don. Maybe he did it out of some twisted sense of obligation. Maybe they were just in love and compromised. But in the end Ressler's decision had cost Julian his job and a civilian his life.

And the second time, after the whole mess with Mr. Kaplan, effectively ending Julian's career as nothing more but collateral damage. He can still feel his heart crack at that look of betrayal in Julian's eyes as they stood over the remains of Mako Tanida.

---

The other thing about guilt is that Donald doesn't know how to make amends. He knows how to follow his instincts and get himself deeper into trouble, deeper into the pit of guilt, deeper into unescapable situations. Making more and more excuses, trying to cover up all of his messes with lies that lead to more excuses, more lies, more damage.

He knows it's good that he does feel guilt in the first place. But there's only so much he can take.

He thinks about everyone he has left - Reddington, Keen, Aram, Cooper, Navabi.

He could go and find Reddington, ask him to get him out of this mess he created, but he still has some dignity left (he almost laughs at that, sitting in the dirt, close, so close again to withdrawal that his chest tightens, burdened with the undignity of all the actions that led him here). So Reddington is out. He'd only get him into some deeper shit, anyway, and he can't deal with that right now.

The taskforce is out, too. They're obligated to arrest him on sight. And after doing what he did (all the dirty work for Prescott that makes him shudder and swallow back bile), he wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes. They'd know. Another thing he can't deal with.

He can't go to his family, either; getting to Detroid would be a feat in itself, but no doubt the feds are just waiting for him to make contact with his mom or brother. He doesn't want to think about them; if he just so much as imagines his mom crying over the news of her little boy's fuck-up of a life he would only break the last remains of his heart.

Sighing, he realizes he's on his own and he closes his eyes against tears that don't come. His eyes are far too dry, and yet he feels like crying; maybe he's become too numb, but not numb enough to not care. He swallows against his dry throat, his fingers flexing around the pill bottle. He's out at sea alone, the storm raging and waves threatening to bring him down, and in the darkness, there's no lighthouse in sight, not even a candle in the window of someone who might take pity on him. He's bound to drown.

---

The next day, he runs out of pills as well as luck. He hears the shouting before seeing what's going on, and he doesn't need to round the corner to know that the cops are arresting his dealer; he hears his name. They're not after the poor sod for his arsenal of prescription-meds, they're after him. He turns around and doesn't stop running until his lungs burn and his feet ache.

---

He finally collapses behind an old factory that's been out of use seemingly forever. He vaguely remembers it from a case so many years ago, when everything was still fine and he still had dreams and hopes and Reddington hadn't crossed his way yet, Julian already by his side, Prescott a name he had no business knowing.

He remembers some nondescript arms dealers hunched over their merchandise, duffels with a ton of dollar bills and a short shoot-out that ended with the perps in cuffs and a brilliant smile from Julian. Although he couldn't see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, he knew the twinkle in them that told him everything he needed to know.

How the fuck could he fuck up something so good?

It doesn't matter now, though. He slides down the rough walls, and a shiver rips from his spine, rocking his entire body, until it gets stuck in his hands and they can't stop trembling. Every movement hurts deep in his bones, and the shaking only makes it worse until he feels sick to his stomach and feels the bile rise.

He closes his eyes, and now the tears come.

He lets all the shame and hurt and fucking guilt wash over him, drown him until he is gasping for air, remembering --- remembering all the roads he shouldn't have taken, remembering every time he allowed Prescott to shove his dick down Donald's throat, the blood of some stranger still on their hands and clothes, and Ressler can't keep it in anymore. His stomach convulses and forces its few contents out, spattering on the dirty ground, acid in his aching throat that still remembers Prescott's assaults.

He remembers Prescott's laugh and the grip of his hand leaving bruises on his arms. He remembers burying bodies of people he knew nothing about, for a man who could be his downfall with no more effort than twitching a finger.

Ironic, how that still happened and Ressler has just reached rock-bottom while still having done everything Prescott had demanded. A fucking lose-lose-situation. Ressler would like to laugh about the stupidity of it all (of himself), but it gets stuck somewhere between his chest and vocal chords. He can never go back.

He'd always thought it would be Reddington who'd ruin him. He was wrong.

---

With the onsetting darkness comes the cold; it's the end of summer and the days are warm enough, but the nights take all the warmth and replace it with cruel emptiness and too many thoughts.

He remembers all the times their hunt for Reddington had gone wrong; all the times they'd run into another dead end; all the times an informant ended up dead --- all the times he would crawl into Julian's bed or Julian in his and they'd hold each other, seek solace and comfort and hope and the strength to move on in each other's arms.

He remembers Julian's lips on his and how, for these few moments, he'd want nothing more and could forget the job. He remembers skin on heated skin, and whispered platitudes that in that moment felt like a lifeline, and falling asleep with limbs entangled, sheltering him from nightmares and fatalistic thoughts.

He misses it. Misses it more than anything else, and it's the first time he acknowledges this feeling. He'd missed Julian for years; and then he was back again, back in that ice rink, looking at him like nothing had happened, like he still didn't blame Donald for all the shit that had happened. Maybe he really didn't. Maybe the guilt for all of that had been for nothing.

And then Julian was gone again and this time it would be irreversible. Like a lost limb, he feels his absence.

Shivering, he stares at the darkness around him, and all he wants is those strong arms around him and the scent of leather and aftershave and the scratch of Julian's stubble against his own.

He can never have that again. He doesn't deserve it, and Julian sure as Hell won't forgive him. Not for ending his career and certainly not for working with Reddington and turning a blind eye to the crimes he committed under their watch. He wouldn't even want to touch him again with all the dirt and blood on his hands from working for Prescott; wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that suffered the abuse of a ruthless killer and had swallowed it like he deserved it.

Because the truth is, maybe that's what his life has become: an unescapable, unforgivable Hell, all the pictures of what he'd done burned into his brain, behind his eyelids, on his skin where the bruises have long since faded but the dirt still remains. And maybe that's exactly what he deserves.

He crumbles under his thoughts until he lies on the ground, a shivering, hurting mess that's overflowing with guilt and self-loathing.

Julian always used to kiss it away.

---

How, when and why Donald has decided to walk up that road into the woods is lost on him.

He used to know this road, been here a few times but not in several years; it seems unchanged exept for the sky that looks a bit duller. He never walked this path before, but he didn't want to steal a car. Wouldn't know where to dump it here anyway.

He knows it's probably a dumb idea, but he's out of options by this point.

Every step is hard work and his knees are about ready to give out, shaking under the strain of carrying him for miles and miles, and even in the chilly shadows of the surrounding trees he's sweating like it's a hundred degrees out. Another shiver runs through his body that feels like it's crushing every bone on its way, and he moans as he gasps for breath.

He knows though if he stops he'll never get up again. He'll never reach the old cabin in the woods by that small lake, and he'd die by the side of the small, muddy road. He's not ready for that, though.

---

It's late afternoon when he gets off the main road and takes the small footpath that leads to the cabin in a few hundred yards. The sun is much hotter now and although he can feel her warmth on his skin, he feels cold and clammy and miserable, fighting shiver after shiver and losing hard.

All he wants to do is curl up into a tight ball and die, but he's not gonna give up, not now, even though he knows that he's making a massive mistake here, but he doesn't care. It's like he's too far gone to acknowledge that fact and all his common sense has left him along with the contents of his stomach last night; he can't shove it back and, frankly, what does it matter? He can't fall any deeper.

So he stumbles on, struggling over rocks and branches, his feet numb except for the occasional flare of pain that still reaches his brain and he can't quite manage to shut out.

Then it comes into sight and he breathes out, a pained, wheezing sound that makes his head spin, and suddenly he feels sick because he knows he has made the wrong decision; he should go. He should turn around and collapse by the road and wither away like a fallen leaf.

The cabin is still like he remembers it from years ago; it belonged to Julian's father before he'd died, a nice little place far out in the woods that's perfect for a weekend-trip. Julian used to tell him stories of coming here with his dad to fish and hunt, back in the day before everything had turned to shit between them, before he came out as gay and his father stopped talking to him altogether.

He knows Julian is here; he's seen the old Ford parked by the road close to the small footpath. He also knows he's not welcome, just as he knows that he won't have anything left if Julian rejects him and throws him back onto the street he came from.

Feeling his knees wobble, he pushes on before he can give in to the seducing urge to let himself fall to the ground and curl up to die. He can still do that afterwards.

Another few steps and he's around the cabin where he can see the small lake, a pond really, with the wooden terrace right by the water; on it stands a deserted deck chair, but the bottle of beer that sits right next to it is still half-full, so Julian must be back any minute.

He leans heavily on the wall of the cabin and feels his strength bleed away. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and along his nose as he lets his head fall, the strain in his neck too much for his muscles to hold it up anymore. Catching his breath is difficult when his lungs don't want to take in any much needed air and his chest feels too tight, like the collar of his dirty white t-shirt is strangling him, and he raises a violently shaking hand to his chest, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he does so.

Shit, this is worse than he'd thought. The hand that isn't clutching his shirt automatically wanders towards his pants pocket. It's empty. Of course it's empty. He's out of pills. He panicks at that because how in the world is he supposed to survive ---

when he hears a gun cock and forces himself to look up into Julian's face.

He looks good - always does - and his stubble is almost a beard now; his hair has grown too and Donald just wants to breathe it in. He wears sunglasses (of course, it's still bright outside and his eyes are just so damn sensitive), and his brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line that tells Donald just how welcome he is here.

"Don?", he asks, voice raspy like he hasn't spoken in a long time. Maybe he hasn't, but Ressler isn't naïve enough to blame any emotion for the roughness.

"Hey", he says, and he feels the world sway from the effort of holding himself up, so he grabs for the wall again, temporarily borrowing stability from the wooden structure. He doesn't even want to know how awful he must look, all sweaty and dirty and miserable, shaking and fighting just to keep standing.

"What do you want?", Julian asks, words hard and the gun still pointed at Ressler.

He looks at Julian, helpless to say anything, devoid of all words, and he realizes he doesn't know how to answer that question. He opens his mouth in the hopes of being able to bring out anything at all when a shudder runs through his body, leaving him breathless and on the ground. For a second all he knows is the pain of too much and too little at the same time that grinds his bones to dust and cuts through his muscles effortlessly. He thinks he groans in pain, but can't tell over the static in his ears.

"Fuck", he hears at the edge of his consciousness, "Don!"

And when he looks up, Julian is gone from where he stood before, instead there are arms steadying him from face-planting into the muddy ground. He leans heavily into those arms that promise comfort and solace and strength.

"Julian", Don rasps out, and he looks up to see Julian close, so close, worry visible even behind the sunglasses, and he has to close his eyes as a rush of emotion threatens to overcome him. This is it. This is all he wanted.

"Don't talk now, okay? I'm callin' an ambulance." And that's wrong. He can't do that, Ressler can't go to the hospital, not when he's on every wanted-list in the city ---

"Don't", he whispers and swallows against the bile. Julian looks at him like he's lost his mind, but there's still so much worry. "Don't", Donald repeats. He doesn't know how else to communicate this.

"Okay", Julian says flatly, still sceptical. "You mind tellin' me though why the fuck you're here?"

Ressler looks away, tries to ignore the black dots that creep into his vision.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he means it. Hopes that Julian understands, because Ressler doesn't know if he has the strength or the words to really explain himself here. "I didn't know where else to go."

Julian just nods, waiting for him to continue while Donald shivers in his arms and doesn't know how to go on.

"I fucked up", he finally says, and Julian laughs at that; a humorless, dry laugh that settles itself deep into what's left of Don's bones, a laugh that sends waves of guilt through his chest. He looks to the ground and tries not to break down under the weight of it.

"Yeah, you did", Julian says and there's an edge to his voice that's dangerous and hurt and speaks of everything Ressler has put him through. "And I'm really fucking close to tell you to go to Hell."

His eyes burn holes into Donald's skin until he's sure that Julian must be able to see his insides now, the rotten flesh and the dirt and the blood and all the shame and guilt he's never gonna be able to wash away.

"Not gonna do that though. Seems like you're already there."

Don lets his head fall and at this point he can't tell sweat from tears or blood or vomit or dirt; it's all there on his skin, whether remembered or real he doesn't know. All he knows is that it's disgusting, he's disgusting, he's dirty and has done unforgivable things and yet Julian is still holding him up, still touching him --- His head drops and he closes his eyes against the spinning world.

"C'mon", Julian says quietly, "let's get you cleaned up. You look like you could need a drink too, something to eat. And then you're gonna tell me what's going on before I change my mind. You alright with that?"

Donald just nods. At least he thinks he does.

He feels Julian's grip tighten, and together they manage to get Donald on his feet; he sways unsteadily, but Julian's hands are still there, grounding him against the nausea, keeping him from falling over as he clenches his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness and pain that rips through him.

"Hey, wait", he blurts out when Julian nudges him to move. "You don't - you don't have to do this, Julian. I won't blame you if -", he takes a deep breath, trying to organize his blurry thoughts, "- if you... y'know. Wanna throw me out on the street. Let me rot."

Julian looks at him long and hard, his face unreadable, and Donald wonders when that changed. He used to be able to read him flawlessly, back in the day.

"I know", he says eventually, "and believe me, I have every reason to, but... let's just get inside 'n' sort this out, yeah?"

He nods.

The inside of the cabin looks exactly the way he remembers it from the few times Julian has taken him here. Cozy and warm, soft light through the small windows, wooden table in the middle of the room - with all kinds of stuff on it, bottles and tools and newspapers - surrounded by self-made wooden chairs; it's only one room, and in the corner is still the old bed with the worn through mattress that he remembers very vividly (it's softer than it looks, the pillows under his hips fluffy, the scent of whiskey from Julian's lips and resin from all around him filling his senses ---) Julian drags him to the bed; Don is glad that Julian keeps his hands on his shoulders for a few more moments. He doesn't trust his body to sit on its own and not fall over. He takes a few deep breaths - the smell of whiskey and resin still lingers in the cabin and if he closes his eyes, he might be able to pretend nothing has happened and he's back to when all was good. He doesn't close his eyes. Needs the punishment of seeing an older version of Julian and that glimmer in his eyes that betrays the cold anger he tries to project. In here, it's easier reading him. The sunglasses have landed on the table in the mixture of things, and breathing is just that much easier now. Funny how brown eyes can have that effect on him. Or maybe it's just Julian's eyes. "You okay? Or are ya gonna topple over as soon as I let go?", Julian asks. His hands burn where they touch Ressler's shoulders - even through the shirt - and he feels like their heat is spreading all the way through his arms, mending his broken bones with a painful grip that makes him gasp. "It's alright", he says. His voice sounds strange, somehow distorted and raw, and when Julian lifts his hands it's like ice fills all the places that were on fire just seconds before, crushing him, burning even worse. He bites his lip. "'Kay", Julian murmurs, and then he turns around to get a bottle of water and --- and he opens up one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, brownish-yellow pill bottle --- his heart is beating so fast now he thinks he might throw up, and every fibre in his body screams Want! Want! Want! --- his muscles pulling on him, willing him to move, to get to the pills, down them all, swallow them, no regrets, make the trembling stop and the sweating and the shivers, undo the damage to his body, unbreak his bones, untear his sinews --- His mouth falls open. He can already feel it: the texture and the form of the little white pill against his tongue, the short moment when he swallows, the high he's chasing - no, no, it's not that anymore, it's never been that; it's always been about numbing the pain until it wasn't, until it was just about avoiding the come down. But right now he can feel the high, the anticipation, being so close to victory --- "Don?" And he wants to tell Julian to shut up, to just give him the pills, but he's the one who holds the bottle, he has the power in this moment and fuck, Ressler would do everything, anything, get on his knees or on all fours and just take it (flashes of Prescott assault his mind at that, and he gasps audibly because Julian is not Prescott, far from it, and he just wants his brain to shut the fuck up, to stop, knowing the pills will do that, they'll fucking save him from his own thoughts) --- "Hey, man - what's going on?" It's Julian's voice again, so much nearer now, burning hot hands holding him together as Donald crumbles. He collapses like a frail burning building, the last beams that were holding it together now nothing more than a pyre of grief and lost hope. He trembles against Julian's chest, his hands clinging to Julian's shirt, hurting from the exhaustion of cramping around the scratchy material but unable to let go, his head tucked under Julian's chin where he crouches in front of Donald on the floor. He wants to cry or to scream or to lash out, but all the energy he has left is unfocused, is mainly the never ending chant of Want! Want! Want! beneath his skin. "Fuck", he grinds out, and it's the hardest thing for him right

now, but he has Julian's arms around him and can feel his lips in his hair and smell leather and aftershave and --- Julian hasn't let him go yet. He hasn't pushed him away yet; is still touching him, unafraid, not yet disgusted. Then again, he doesn't know what Donald has done. "Hey, hey", Julian breathes against Ressler's temple, "it's okay, Don, it's - it's alright. It's gonna be alright..." Don shakes his head, takes a stuttering breath. "It's not, it's -", he starts, and his hands shake so hard now he's afraid of hurting Julian, "it's all gone to shit, okay? Nothing's alright, and - it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Julian, just ---" He doesn't know what he's saying, only that he needs to get it out. He needs to let Julian know how sorry he is, how much he wishes he could go back and do it all differently, how much he wants Gale to be happy. "Easy", Julian whispers, and now his hands are stroking up and down Don's spine and he feels like a child, but also safer than he has in a long time. This, right here, is his shelter in the storm, a place to wait out the worst of it before he can go home. Only that he doesn't know where home is anymore. Not that it matters. He has his self-imposed punishment to serve. They sit there for a while, until Ressler's breathing is less ragged and his body is limp with exhaustion and his hands uncramp around Julian's shirt. "You need to drink something", Julian says, his voice far too soft, and somewhere deep inside of him Ressler just wants Julian to yell at him, to beat him, to show him exactly how he's felt the last couple of years. Let out all the anger and frustration and disgust he must be feeling. Add his loathing to the pyre burning away at Donald's insides. Julian shuffles away, keeping one steadying hand on Ressler's shoulder, the other reaching for the glass of water he must have put on the ground besides him when Donald collapsed. "Here", he murmurs and holds the glass up to Don's lips. Donald doesn't even try to take it from him, his trembling hands trapped between his thighs. The water is refreshing and he's sure he could drink an entire river - his mouth and throat aren't longer as dry, his heaving stomach slowly settles, his over-heated skin seems to cool a little. When the glass is empty, Julian sets it aside and takes a hard look at Don. "Better?", he asks. Behind the hard, cold glare his gaze is so open, so vulnerable now that Don has to look away. "Yeah", he nods. "Thanks." He doesn't know where Julian has put the pill bottle, but it's probably back in the cabinet. There's no way Julian could have misinterpreted Donald's behaviour. "So." Donald looks up again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead, on his neck, chest, everywhere, but now it's cooler, and if the temperature keeps dropping as quickly he will surely freeze to death. He doesn't know though if it's the change of seasons or his own body. "Guess I owe you an explanation", Donald murmurs. He's tired suddenly, so tired he can feel it in his bones. Like he's two hundred years old, an ancient tree about to die. "You bet your ass you do." With that Julian gets up off the ground, refills the glass, sets it on the table and sits down next to Donald on the bed. He sits further away than he used to, the gap between them like a fucking canyon that Don could throw himself in to to break every bone in his body yet again, for the last time. He won't though. He owes Julian that much. "So?", Julian asks when the silence stretches too long. But Donald doesn't know where to start, doesn't even know what to say except for I'm sorry and forgive me and I love you. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again, his heartbeat picking up its pace, beating uncomfortably against his too tight ribcage. "I'm sorry", he begins, and when he looks at Julian, his face is impassive and schooled. He expects more. Of course he does, Donald thinks, and he deserves it, deserves more, deserves everything. He's just not sure he can give that. "I ruined your life", he says. Looks down at his hands and how

they shake where they're trapped between his knees. "Again", he adds and the corner of his mouth twitches in a humorless attempt at a smile. "You should never have paid for what we - what I did. The whole Reddington-thing. I justified it with all the good we did, all the cases we solved, the criminals we put behind bars, but... you were right. The price was too high. It was doomed from the start... All the people who died, Julian, all those good people --- I don't know if it was worth it." He looks up into Julian's face. It's not as passive and unreadable as before; now there's a glint of pity, a tiny spark of anger, the smallest sign of resignation. "And - and to think I betrayed all my principles for that taskforce. All I ever stood for - wanted to stand for. Fuck, I'm... I just... I just wanna go back, Julian. I just wanna start over. Forget about - about Reddington and Prescott and Hitchin and - Audrey. Fuck, Audrey... I should have known then. I should have quit back then." He buries his face in his hands. There are no tears, but the shame that's crawling up his spine and spreading through every inch of his body is threatening to overwhelm him. "What happened to her?", Julian asks quietly, his voice impossibly soft. He knows about them. About their far too early engagement, about the stubbornness with which Donald had tried to love her just to get over the fact that Julian was gone from his life. About his need to prove that he was okay. "She's dead. She was killed. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for Reddington." "I'm sorry", Julian says after a moment of silence. He sounds genuine, even though Ressler knows how Julian feels about Audrey. Or used to feel, anyway. And now, Donald doesn't know what else to say. Knows there's so much, too much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Julian about Hitchin and Prescott and those brief moments with Reddington - in the box and in a hotel room in Washington and the whole long flight from Munich back to the states. Donald takes a deep breath; it's not like that makes any difference because his lungs still seem incapable of taking in enough oxygen for him to survive. How he's still conscious, he doesn't know, but it's probably just his mind playing tricks with him. And all the while, Julian looks at him with patience that's bordering on resignation, and sadness he might be mistaking for grief about the people they could have been. The love they could have shared, the lives they could have lived. All those things Ressler never gave himself time to grieve for, but are returning with a vengeance now, cutting him up, sucking him dry, suffocating him in their thick reality. "I deserved it", he finally croaks, his voice strangled by everything he's lost, and he clears his throat. "Everything I got in the end, I deserved it." He stares at his hands that are trapped between his knees, feels them tremble, and when he looks back up at Julian, the other man is suddenly closer than he was before. The canyon between them is nothing more than a crack in the pavement now, their legs not yet touching, Julian's heat a welcome comfort against Don's clammy pale skin, and it still feels like it's not enough, like nothing he could do could ever be enough, and as much as he detests the thought that this might be the closest Julian will let himself get to Don, he also revels in the almost-touches and the dark gazes and the fact that this, too, is something he painfully deserves: the one person he never stopped loving to be entirely unreachable. He thinks back to the good times and how easy it was to just reach out and take any comfort he needed. The sleepless nights in those dingy motel rooms they spent staring out the window at the starry sky or at each other, the moments of warmth and solitude, bodies wrapped around each other like they're one, soft breath in his ear, dry lips on skin, rough fingers entangled, squeezing, comforting. Thinks back to that night in Manila, when Julian stood before Donald's door at three in the morning, dark bags under

his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around his chest to prevent him from falling apart; later it would be Don's arms holding him together. Thinks back to that morning in New York that should have been entirely unpleasant with the stink and the broken heater in the middle of January and the noise even so early, but with Julian's sleeping form next to him - so peaceful and full of beauty -, he wished it could always be like this. He doesn't think back to the time they said goodbye, or the time Julian almost died from a bullet in his stomach, or the countless times they sat at each other's hospital beds. He doesn't think about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time they hugged, the last time there wasn't this edge to Julian's voice that tells Donald that things will never be the same. He certainly doesn't think about the future. "And what is it you got? What is it you think you deserve? 'Cause I see you sitting here like, like death warmed over and I can't imagine what the Hell you could've done to deserve... well, this." Julian's voice is rougher than usual; Donald doesn't know if it's because of the emotion he swallows so successfully or because he's smoking more than he used to or because this is the first time in a long time that he's speaking to somebody. Donald draws in another sharp breath. His lungs aren't exactly cooperating, but it doesn't matter as long as he can still explain. "I think I need some air", he says, voice barely more than a whisper. He sees Julian nod out of the corner of his eye, and together they manage to walk outside. It's weird, a little, how much better he feels and how much easier it is to talk, to move, to breathe, ever since arriving in the cabin. Just a few hours ago he was almost certain he'd be dying in a ditch right about now. It's gotten dark outside; the sun hasn't disappeared fully yet, but through the trees that surround the cabin and the pond it's impossible to make out. Julian sits him down in the deck chair Donald had noticed earlier, the opened bottle of beer that's still sitting beside it now forgotten. Don takes a deep breath. It's easier now, out here. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Julian setting up a second chair next to the one Donald is sitting on. They both lean forward, elbows on their knees, Ressler's head hanging, Gale watching him with sharp eyes. Donald shakes his head; to think how easily all this could have been avoided! If he hadn't taken the job with the taskforce, none of this would have happened. Or if he'd been honest sooner, if he'd talked to Julian when the whole Mr. Kaplan-mess started instead of betraying him --- "That, right there, what you just said, is why I love you." He can still hear those words loud and clear in his head, recalling that moment with absolute clarity even if most of his other thoughts and memories are blurry from exhaustion and pain. The way they just came over Julian's lips, so simple, so easy, like they were picking up from where they'd left, still sends goosebumps over his arms and back; he remembers the painful tightening of his chest back then, and his mind going completely blank, and deciding to overplay his nerves with a lame joke and getting back to work as quickly as possible. He remembers hope bubbling up in the back of his ribcage, and laying awake that night overthinking those words. Overthinking the whole situation while pushing away his guilt. He hated lying to Julian then, and he hates where it has gotten him. He remembers cursing Julian's mind, always so quick and clever, and he remembers cursing Reddington time and time again. He purposely doesn't remember all the times he thought about the Concierge instead of Julian when he was alone in his bed. It feels like another betrayal all over again. And he remembers being on the verge of asking how much truth lay behind Julian's words more than once but always pulling back at the last second. Maybe he'll never know, now. "Don?" He remembers that he needs to talk. His mind feels almost bruised by the

onslaught of memories ever since he's seen Julian for the first time in so long. "Yeah. Sorry." He takes another deep breath, now easier out here, and leans back in his chair, tired eyes focusing on the patches of darkening skies through the crowns of the trees. A sense of tranquility fills his whole body and the shivers cease to shake him. "You were right about Mako Tanida. His head. Reddington - Reddington gave it to me as a gift." He closes his eyes for a second and sees the severed head in the box as if it happened yesterday instead of almost six years ago. He shudders and opens his eyes again, back to watching the gentle breeze shifting through the leaves and branches. He doesn't look over at Julian. "Some sort of... sick compensation for Audrey's death." He pauses at that, thinking back at Audrey and how he barely remembers her face now even though he knows he should. It gives Julian time to piece it together. He doesn't say a word though, intent on letting Donald speak. "It makes me sick now. But that's Reddington, you know? He lulls you in and there's nothing you can do about it. -- Objectively, I knew what we were doing, and I was justifying it with all the high-profile arrests we did. But... I don't know, man, he was under my skin and I only realized it when it was too late. He's like this... spider. Sucks you dry as soon as you're caught in his net. And it doesn't stop until someone worse comes along and ---" He stops speaking then, dropping his head, unable to find the words to convey Prescott's cruelty, his depravity that became Donald's own. A hand on his shoulder makes him look up; Julian is watching him, his gaze a strange mix between a cold distance and warm empathy. "What happened?", he asks. As if his hand doesn't burn Don's flesh where it touches him over his shirt, as if he doesn't know the repercussions of this gesture, as if he can't even imagine what it means to Don that he's touching him out of his own accord, not yet fleeing, not yet disgusted, but full of love and comfort and everything Donald doesn't deserve. They stay quiet for a short while, Don watching how the cold distance transforms to something new, something like pity, but not exactly. Maybe curiosity with a touch of sadness. Like he wants to hear the answer and doesn't. Like he wants to know what made Don come here but doesn't want to hear it. Like he knows it could change everything between them, all the anger he's been carrying with him since the ice rink-case melting away, leaving only the torn pieces of his old love. "Laurel Hitchin", Donald says quietly. Another shiver runs through his body as he feels Julian's hand falling away. They're silent again; Don trying to figure out how to confess a murder and all the shit that followed it, and Julian thinking about how Hitchin might as well have fired him. She may have been an awful person, but she didn't deserve to die. In Don's experience, there's no one who deserves to die; at least that used to be his opinion. He's not so sure about it now. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but that's where they stay. He can't push them over the edge, can't make his vocal chords work and his lips form the vowels and consonants. He tries in vain, again and again, until Julian is looking at him again like he knows Donald's struggle. "She's dead", Julian says, tone neutral, and Don can't read from it how much Julian knows or at least suspects. He nods. Remembers her laying on her kitchen floor, pool of blood growing larger second by sickening second. "I didn't mean to ---", he stammers, and Julian's eyes grow wide like he didn't expect this confession. "Shit", he breathes and rubs a hand over his face. It stops over his mouth and chin and he looks straight ahead into the darkness that has settled around them like their own private bubble where there's room for confessions and guilt and maybe even forgiveness; room that the bright sun of the day doesn't allow. "That's why you're such a mess? Jesus, Don,

I ---" But he doesn't continue. Donald doesn't want to hear another I'm sorry from Julian, and he doesn't want to hear that he's fucked up either. He just wants to forget. "It gets worse", he says and Julian looks up, surprise and pain and dread lining his features, and he suddenly looks much older than he is. Still beautiful, and Don has to swallow against the sudden feeling of belonging that rises in his chest; like he's home, like this has been his home all along, and it will be until they're old and grey and dying of old age in each others' arms --- only that it's a fantasy, a feverish dream he's having. Before Don can continue though, Julian stands up and disappears inside the cabin without another word. He can't blame him. With a sigh he stays where he is, watching the sky again that's now completely dark, and he doesn't know if he isn't actually watching the invisible dance of the trees. His mind is completely blank now and it's a more than welcome change. Before he knows it, Julian is back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Wordlessly, he gives one of the already opened bottles to Don who takes it with only slightly shaking hands, then sits back down, takes a gulp of beer, puts it down on the ground beside his chair, and takes a cigarette out of the pack. He offers one to Don but he declines with a shake of his head. The small flame of the lighter makes Julian's face flicker orange and yellow, the shadows making the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth dance and seem deeper than in the light of day. For the few seconds it lasts, he looks almost angelic in a rough, strange way. "I called the cleaner who used to work for her", he says before he can think about it. "His name's Henry Prescott." The smell of burnt tobacco lulls him in, like they're back in Julian's old apartment, in his bed after an evening of slow sex, bliss and heavy limbs and soft words forever interlinked with it. It almost makes the bile that's threatening to rise after the mention of Prescott's name stay down. Julian's eyes are on him again, calmer now, but also more distanced than before. Don can barely make them out through the dark of night, but from experience he knows Gale won't say any more. He needs all the facts, and Don's the only one who can provide those. He looks back to where the lake must be, now an invisible black hole between the equally black woods. He thinks it must be easy now that he's started, but the words won't come, his mind preoccupied with keeping the images at bay, the memories of dead bodies and blood and the smell of bleach and ammonia. He closes his eyes for a minute, the shivers returning, rocking his body against his will, and he's going to be sick if the stink of chemicals doesn't leave his nose soon --- He wishes Julian would touch him again, ground him somehow like he used to, but he doesn't. Don doesn't look up either. He needs to carry on. "He found out who I was", he says eventually, strangled, struggling to keep talking. "Blackmailed me into working for him." He rubs his free hand over his face, pressing down over his eyes to get rid of the images and the smell, and for a moment it's like Julian isn't even there, like he's not listening, like Don can say anything he wants to the dark emptiness he's surrounded by. He takes a few gulps of the beer but doesn't set it down. "Fuck, I --- the things I did. The shit I was forced to do and I, I didn't even fight it. I was too afraid to - I don't know, lose my job, my reputation, my friends", it breaks out of him now, and a laugh forces its way through his constricted throat at the irony of the words. He feels Julian shift next to him, reminding Don of his presence, but he doesn't turn to look at him. "I did every fucking thing he told me to. Drove around dead bodies in car trunks. Buried and unburied them. Scrubbed blood off walls and carpets and beds. --- How the fuck can anyone forgive me for that? How can you?" He takes another large sip of the beer, now risking a glance at

Julian. His cigarette has almost burnt down completely, leaving a tail of ash threatening to fall onto Julian's lap; he hasn't taken a drag since Don has started speaking. Instead he's looking at Donald, almost staring through him, and Don doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Julian. "I should never have come", he says curtly because he can't face the silence now. "I'm sorry. I should never have -- I guess I know now that I deserved it." The calm that settles in his bones surprises him. He looks back up to the sky, clear and beautiful where it shines through the trees, and now he can make out tiny bright dots, stars spattered across it like the splashes of watercolor over paper when he was a kid. He can feel tears behind his eyes and he knows this is the last time he will be home. Knows it's the last time he gets to feel something other than guilt and dread. Maybe he should get up and leave now, having done enough damage as it is, but something inside him urges him to stay, to tell Julian the whole truth, make him understand. He needs Julian to tell him to fuck off; needs his rejection to be at peace and go home. Somewhere, anyway. "He didn't stop there", he says, and he knows it's his only chance to ever articulate it; if he doesn't say it now he'll be silent forever. Besides him, Julian tenses. He's been tense for the last couple of minutes, but now his back is straight in a way that it almost never is, but Donald needs to get those next few words out. He feels strangely detached from his body and mind and memories. "Sometimes he would force me on my knees, make me suck him off", he starts, and it's easier to say it out loud than it should be, "and sometimes he would bend me over the hood of the car or tie me to the bed post in whatever hotel he'd stay in. I took it every time. I thought I didn't have a choice." And he's smiling now, the weight on his shoulders, his lungs, his mind so much lighter, and he doesn't even mind the trembling of his hands, of his whole body. He just lets it happen. "Until my conscience finally made me put a stop to it. I arrested him. Wrote my confession. And left. But I'm still too much of a coward to face the consequences, instead I'm running from everything." He lets his head fall. This shouldn't be this easy, he tells himself, but then again, with Julian nothing is as it should be. "Swallowing one pill after the other, sleeping in the mud, always looking over my shoulder. That's no life. That's - that's Hell, Julian." Finally, he looks back at his old love, a flood of emotions racing through him like a tsunami, and he chokes out: "I deserve it. All of it. What Prescott did to me. I gotta live with it. I'm ---" But the words die on his lips as he feels Julian's arms around his neck, and hot breath against his ear, and fingers tangling in his hair. He stops breathing for a few seconds, brain catching up with the sensations, and Julian is embracing him like he knows it's the last time, or like he's sorry, or like his life depends on it. "Just so you know", Julian rasps against Don's cheek, "I really fucking want to punch you right now. I wanna - wanna throw you against the wall and just - punch you until I can't move my arm anymore. Okay? Got that?" Donald nods silently, still stunned by the sudden embrace. He didn't think Julian would ever want to touch him again, wouldn't even want to be near him again. "No one", Julian says, "No one - deserves shit like that." And then he stammers like he wants to say every word he knows at the same time while simultaneously not knowing what to say altogether, before giving up with a hissed "Fuck". Don knows this, knows that sometimes, Julian's brain is faster than his mouth, and then he stumbles over words like an excited child. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?", he asks quietly, still not letting go, and now Don puts the bottle down and returns the embrace. Carefully, very carefully, like he might freak Julian out, like he might realize then what he's doing and

drop Donald like a hot potato. Donald shakes his head no; doesn't want to be dropped, not now, not when he's this close to Julian; shakes his head because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do now either. The idea that's been in the back of his head, whose existence he completely ignored until now, that's probably the reason he came here in the first place, creeps into his consciousness now, and his grip around Julian's ribs tightens. "I just--- wanted to apologize for everything I did to you. I ruined your career, your life. I lied to you, I betrayed you. And I'm so sorry, Julian, I'm - I'm so fucking sorry." He loosens his grip again so he can look at Julian who looks up. His eyes are wet and dark and so damn beautiful, and now they're only inches apart. He could kiss him now, ruin everything all over again for a short moment of bliss, but he doesn't. "Me too", Julian says quietly, and his voice is soft like torn velvet. "I wish you wouldn't have come here. Let me keep my anger. But I guess you have this way of making me forgive everything you do. You're impossible, Don, you know that and I, just, hate you so, so much right now, I fucking - I hate you so much ---" "I know", Don whispers against Julian's cheek as their faces are pressed together, stubble against stubble, words escaping them that neither of them hears, lips against skin, not exactly kissing, but mouthing apologies and curses that get lost in the night. "I was so angry for so long, thinking about you, and the shit you did, the - the way it had to end", Julian rasps, tension falling off his body, too tired to keep on shivering. "I kept asking myself why the fuck you'd work with him --- how you could stand looking Reddington in the eye day after day and not - not see all that he cost us. Except I realised you did see, and you just didn't care." "Julian, I ---", he interrupts, but Julian keeps talking. "And I took that as justification to curse you and to hate you, and I did, you know, I really did, but... then I realised it was Reddington and I -- I chalked you up as just another casualty, another person he ruined, because you - you might just as well have been dead, you know? I fucking buried you." Julian chokes a little at that, but his grip at the back of Don's head doesn't weaken. "I know him, Don, I, uh, I know how he is. How he will put you under his spell and pull you in and never let go. Just... Just tell me this." And he looks up again, eyes red rimmed even in the darkness, and Don wants nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but he can't. He owes Julian, and even though he doesn't know what he wants to ask, he knows he needs to give an honest answer. No more lies. No more. Julian's searching his face and seems to have found what he's been looking for when he finally speaks up again after long moments of silence. "Did you love him?" The question should surprise Donald. It doesn't. He looks down, unable to meet Julian's unrelenting gaze. Thinks back to the box and the hotel room in Washington and the flight from Munich back to the states. Slowly, without looking up, he nods. No more lies. Here it comes. "Yeah", he says quietly even though he knows Julian has seen his nod. "I did. But never like I loved you." The words just come, mindlessly spilling over his lips, and he means them; he still doesn't look up. Doesn't want to see the disgust and rejection in Julian's eyes. The moment stretches like someone stopped time, stopped the entire universe, and Donald doesn't mind one bit. If it means having this last moment with Julian, even if it's filled with uncertainty, he'll gladly spend eternity frozen in time like this. Julian's fingers are still in his hair, his gaze still focussed on Donald. He's still though, not moving, and if it wasn't for his heavy breath, Don would have thought Julian might really be frozen. Then the moment ends. "Okay", Julian says, simple but heavy, like this truth lifted some weight off of him that Donald didn't know Julian was carrying. He looks up now, unable to keep his

gaze away any longer, and he doesn't know what to make of Julian's expression. There's no disgust. There's no rejection. There's understanding and sadness locked away in the tears that are sticking to his eyelashes, shimmering in the pale light of the moon that's slowly beginning to shine through the trees. Donald doesn't understand it; Julian is supposed to be upset, angry, pushing him away, throwing him out on the street to rot --- not drawing soothing circles over the back of his head, not looking at him like that, like they can fix this, like Donald is finally home --- "I'm, uh... I'm going to the police. Tonight. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. My sad attempt to make things right." He has to look away again, Julian's focussed, open gaze too much for him. "Guess I couldn't... leave without having told you. And I'm - I'm not asking for forgiveness here. I know I can never have that. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright, so..." He clears his throat, realizing that they've only been talking about him and never once about Julian. Fuck, how egoistic can he be! "How're you doing?", he asks, and Julian is still clinging to him, just as he's clinging to Julian. "Oh, I'm fine", Julian laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Julian -", Donald starts. He doesn't need his bullshit now. "Really, Don, things couldn't be better. I've read that in my horoscope." He still smiles, a little crooked like he's holding something back, something big, and now Ressler's hand comes up to cup Julian's face. Again, the thought of just kissing him comes to mind, but they're so fragile, both of them, it would only leave them shattered for good. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke the thick stubble and he doesn't say a word. Julian closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and for a few precious moments, Donald can pretend they're happy. "Stay", Julian says and Donald freezes. Thinks he must have misheard Julian, who looks up now from where he kneels in front of Don's chair, his own hand leaving the blonde hair to rest at Don's jaw. "What?", he asks. It's more of a breath though, no sound escaping his lips. "I'm - yeah, I'm fucking pissed at you right now, but all of this... it - it doesn't change anything. Y'know, I still mean it." And they're so close still, and Donald has lost track of what's happening, and confused, he shakes his head. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Trondheim. Remember that?" He does. It was the beginning of March and so cold even the hotel room in New York with the broken heater seemed like a tropical vacation in comparison. It wasn't the first time they said I love you, but it was the first time they talked about the future. Before, they would stay in the moment, too afraid of letting go, of losing the other over naïve fantasies of a life together. That night though, they didn't need to be scared. "Whatever happens", Julian said, "I'll never walk away. How could I, huh? Guess I'm too far gone." He smiled, and so did Donald, pressing a kiss to Julian's collarbone. "Fifty years from now", Julian continued, "I'll still think of you. Every fucking day." That earned him a kiss on the lips, chaste and innocent and full of love like they've never experienced before. "Don't matter if you're still with me or not. You don't forget the love of your life, Donnie. I won't forget. Not us. Not this. Never. I could never let you go. Ever." But back then, Julian couldn't have imagined where they would end up one day. "It was different back then", Don says. Not because he doesn't want Julian's words to be true, but because he doesn't think himself worth them. "Yeah, it was", Julian answers, "but tell me you don't feel it still. Tell me, Donnie, and I'll let you go." Donald's answer is silence because, yes, of course he still feels it, that love that's deeper than any feeling he's ever known, deeper even than the shame and guilt and pain of the recent months, years, but doesn't Julian know that it's pointless? That Don's life is over? The silence stretches on and he can't hold

Julian's gaze. "I know", Julian says, "I know." And those words are enough to set him free, to liberate him from his cage of anger and self-pity and guilt and self-imposed punishment - he knows those won't go away anytime soon, but he still feels like breaking down, mercy too much to handle when he knows he's undeserving of forgiveness. He lets his head fall, knowing Julians hands are there to steady him. They do, cradling him like a newborn child, and in a way that might be true: maybe, somehow, this can be a new life, a new start for him; a clean slate. Maybe now, he can forget all of it, all the shit that happened, the person he was - the person he was forced to become --- maybe this is the one chance in life for rebirth. "I'm a mess", he says. "I know", Julian answers. "We can figure it out. Together." "You deserve better." "Shut it now, Donnie. I think I know best what I deserve, huh? I've given up everything for you, y'know, twice. You know what I think it is I deserve? Hm? What we deserve?" Donald looks up, feeling Julian's breath against his lips as much as the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes so familiar in their depth it makes his heart ache. He wants to answer, say something, anything at all, but no words will leave his lips. He feels trapped there between Julian's closeness and the chair, but there's no place he'd rather be. He holds Julian's gaze for a few moments before shaking his head. "Peace, Donnie. I think we deserve peace after all this. Just a little, don't you think?" And that sounds good, far too good to be true, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Yeah", he says finally, voice constricting, "I want that. I want that, Julian." A smile is still tugging at the corners of his mouth when Julian kisses him, slow and unsure and not at all like the many kisses they used to share; it's like a first kiss, a promise for an uncertain future, a vow to try. To give it time and let wounds heal - they're all they have, after all. "You're not going to the police", Julian says as they part. "We will figure this out. Get you clean. And in fifty years we'll still be here, okay, I won't lose you again, I couldn't, couldn't bury you again, I'll ---" And as Donald kisses the doubts and fears away, for the first time in years he has the feeling that everything might turn out okay; that he might be deserving of happiness after all. That finally, finally he's home. _______________________________________