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blizzardfluffykpop · 7 days ago

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Focus On Me

Summary: The game that you and all of your friends were playing was fun at first, but the more you watched it than played it. The more boring it became. It isn’t until you watch your boyfriend do that stupid look of his, poking his tongue in his cheek in concentration. That you realize there’s something much more fun that you’d rather be doing than this.

Oneshot

Smut, PWP, Fluff, Non-idol au, Established Relationship au

If you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work.

Warnings: Slight brat! Reader, Slight! Brat tamer & Slightly Mean! Changmin, Teasing!!! (m! & f! receiving), Grabbing at thighs (m! & f! receiving), Orgasm Denial, Edging, A variation of the Red Light Green Light game, Fingering (f! receiving), Cum tasting, Grinding (m! receiving), Unprotected sex (pls practice safe sex), Marking, Begging, Clit Stimulation, Creampie (twice), Overstimulation, Cum Play, Fake Pity, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Slight! Restraint (for like a few seconds), Slight! Waiting Game, Brief mentions of Stripping for a Partner (m! receiving), Mentions of Aftercare, Hints of another round in a bubble bath, Mentions of a dick joke (reader almost tells), Use of Pet Names: Doll (frequently), Babydoll, Brat (+ Variations), Baby, Good Girl (four times (incl. one variation)), and Sweetheart (once) *And if I missed anything pls lmk!*

Word Count: 5,520

Changmin (Q) X Fem! Reader

[A/n: Originally what was planned was for this to be a full brat tamer! Changmin fic… and well- I didn’t have the strength. I also tried to organize the warnings in order- but so many overlap… Anyways, starting this fanfic year off with a bang, pun intended. (Also not titled bc of it but ‘Focus On Me’ by Jus2 is fun to mention)]

Again, if you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work.

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You’ve been over at your friend’s apartment for the past five hours. And as much as you loved them, you could only play the same game for so long before you grew bored. Honestly, you were surprised you survived three hours of playing and waiting for your turn so far. When you tire of watching the gameplay, you look over at your boyfriend, Changmin, as Haknyeon talks about the game with him. And sigh. You wanted to be home, and if he was talking and interested in the game, it looked like you were going to be stuck here for the next hour or more. There were only so many controllers and so much screen that twelve-plus people could share, even with some of your friends’ switches connected to the game, it was still a drag. Maybe if there was a controller and enough screen for everyone, you wouldn’t be complaining. But you curl into Changmin’s side and huff. He ruffles your hair and you rest there, maybe a quick nap would do you good.

And that’s when Changmin and Haknyeon turns are called, and you sigh as your pillow gets up from your shared blanket. So, you decide to watch your boyfriend play, and he provides some sense of entertainment. Since he was facing the big screen on an angle, you could stare at his side profile and watch as his fingers played with the controls. You smile thinking of how soft and sweet he looks in his hoodie and messy hair until he sticks his tongue against his cheek in concentration. You start wondering how you could get him to focus on you like that. The more you watch his jaw clench, and his fingers play with the buttons, the more your mind starts thinking of what you both could be doing instead. You hum to yourself as you think of ways you could get the two of you to leave. Maybe faking being sick would work? But that would lead to Changmin taking care of you in ways you didn’t want him to right now. You could claim you have an emergency at home, but that would lead to the same fate. Or worse, all of your friends following you both out to make sure everything was okay. And then, you realize if you get him on the same page, he’d want to leave just as badly as you did.

The more he plays, the needier for him you become. Changmin is the only one out of the round, which means Chanhee gets to play now. You smile when Changmin returns, immediately throwing his part of the blanket over him as he sits beside you. You hum as you nuzzle against him, enjoying that he’s finally beside you again. And now you can execute your plan. You kiss his neck innocently. At least, it could be perceived that way. “You did well, baby.” He thanks you sweetly as you lay another kiss on his neck before resting your head against the crook of his neck. “You getting tired, baby?” You hum in reply, and he squeezes your thigh in reassurance. And you reflexively move into his hold, craving more of his touch, and you watch as he raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. You sigh. It seems like you’ll have your work cut out for you tonight. So, you take matters into your own hands and move his hand higher on your thigh. He gives you a quick squeeze before pulling his hand away, not giving in to you. You huff, which makes him laugh, and that makes you roll your eyes. You look around and notice how focused everyone, including Changmin, is on the game. And you sigh again, knowing you weren’t getting your way just yet. After Sangyeon finally loses for the first time all night, it’s your turn.

You try to stay in the game as long as possible. Wanting to ease your boredom and needs. You do well, staying in for two rounds until Jacob kills your character. And alas, it doesn’t help one bit. You’re still as bored and as needy as you were before, if not more. You sigh as you get up, handing your controller over to Hyunjae before sitting beside your boyfriend under the blanket. And that’s when you decide to initiate plan b when no one is looking. Not that anyone was considering they are all glued to gameplay on the TV. You place your hand on his thigh, and he lets you rest it there. You were successful so far. You give it a little squeeze whenever someone wins a round, as if you were excited for it too. And when he cheers, you sneak it a little higher. You’re midway up his thigh when he whispers in your ear, “I know what you’re doing…” You hum, acting innocent, “What?” He narrows his eyes at you, “Don’t.” You don’t until he cheers again, and with your hand on his upper thigh, you can’t help but smirk as you squeeze. He grips your hand in his, turning his head towards you before whispering, “What do you think you’re doing, brat?” And you ask, “Can we go home?” His eyes dart back to the screen, his tongue poking into his cheek as he thinks, “One more round?” You nod, that look he used melting you enough to think you can hold out until after your next turn if it means you get to go home.

Except your turn comes and goes twice… And you’re halfway to you two again for the third additional round. And you’re upset because Changmin had told you that you only had to wait one more round. If you had it your way, you’d be at his apartment and under him by now. But here you both were, still sitting under the same blanket as he watched on. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, and you’re starting to debate if walking home and having fun all by yourself would be more worth it. At least you could get close to what you wanted and no longer have to wait. You whisper, “Minnie…” He hums, not drawing his attention from the screen. “Can we go home now?” He doesn’t look back when he promises you, “One more round, I promise, sweetheart.” You sigh, “That’s what you said two rounds ago.” He pats your knee underneath the covers, trying to comfort you, and you roll your eyes.

Of course, you could believe him this time, but you know if he plays another round, you’ll end up staying here for the rest of the night. So, you decide to play the last trick up your sleeve. And whisper in his ear, “Please, Minnie… I need you…” He looks back at you and says, “One more round, I promise.” And he whispers, just so you can hear, “Then I’ll give you everything you want. Okay, doll?” You sigh. You could wait again, especially with a promise like that. But as you pan over to who’s currently playing. You nearly scream because everyone who’s good at the game and can play for hours without losing has finally regained their spots. You have three options now… Walk home and satisfy yourself, wait for everyone to lose, or… be a brat. After all, you gave him an extra round! It would only be fair if you got what you wanted now! You hold back for a moment as you see Younghoon’s character is in critical condition. And if he gets out right now, you’ll have a straight shot to home, no brattiness necessary. You watch as he dodges at the last second and regenerates his health. You nearly groan as you decide enough is enough, you’re getting what you want and now.

You put your hand onto his thigh again, and he mutters, “Don’t.” Who was he to tell you what you can and can’t do? After all, he said you could leave almost two rounds ago! You move your hand along his pants, deciding to play dirty, and rub your hand over his bulge. He quickly captures your hand before you can make him hard in front of all your friends. You see his tongue poking in his cheek again, and it makes you crave him more. He squeezes your hand in his and hisses into your ear, “What did I just say?” You roll your eyes and mumble, “You said ‘don’t.’” You hold your tongue from saying, ‘Just like you said, we could leave earlier.’ But you don’t, and you let him hold your hand captive.

You try to refocus on the game, and it’s the same layout they’ve been playing for the past two hours, and you’re still as bored of it as you were before. And you decide to whisper in his ear again, “Please, baby, I’ve been so good waiting already. Can we please go home…” He rolls his eyes, and you look around, and with them yelling and cheering, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, “Please… I need you so bad.” You check once more, “Don’t you need me too?” He doesn’t say a word. And you give him a little pout. He’s still not budging. You decide to up the ante, “I’m so wet for you, baby…” You see his jaw clench and continue, “You’d fill me up so well…” You watch his ears turn red. You use your free hand to run it under his hoodie and over his chest. Tracing over his tummy to give him goosebumps as you trail your hand down telling him about how good he’d make you feel if only you two could leave right now… You watch his ears turn more and more red as you whisper about all the things you’re thinking about. He grabs your other hand and stops your hands from moving, clasping your hands together. And it makes you pout again. You roll your eyes as he gives you a stern look, and you draw your attention to the recessed lighting, hoping that would somehow cure your needs. Because Changmin certainly wasn’t about to, it seemed.

When he’s sure you won’t try to grab him again, he puts your hands on your lap, stuffing them between your legs, before letting out a dramatic yawn, fully stretching out his arms and hands, making it clear how tired he is. You quickly catch onto what he’s doing, flickering your eyes closed as if you were fighting sleep as his noisiness alerts them to look back. He asks amid a fake yawn, “Hey, you guys mind if we head out? We’re both getting tired.” Before letting out another small yawn. You let your eyes droop as the ones who are gaming say, “Yeah, yeah, sure! We’ll see you later!” Not even looking back while the onlookers wish you two safe travels and goodbyes. Changmin tells them he’ll see them later as you tiredly say goodbye. Changmin takes one of your hands in his, “Come on, (N/n). Let’s go home.” You give him a tired nod and leave your warm throw blanket on the couch behind you as you both wait.

It’s pitch black outside as you head to his car. He doesn’t speak to you until you both get in, “Yours or mine?” And you immediately answer, “Yours.” He nods, pulling out of the driveway and onto the dead-end street before navigating out of the neighborhood. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you can feel him staring at you. And it isn’t until you hit the last stop sign before the main road that he does anything. You feel his hand resting high on your thigh, as you had done to him earlier on the couch. You gasp as he squeezes, finally getting some attention. Every time he presses on the accelerator, he squeezes, making you ache for more. He was driving you mad, and you were grateful to see the red light. As he approached, he slowed down, moving his hand away from your thigh, giving you a small break. And when it turns green, he cups you over your jeans, rubbing his fingers against the rough material. Your hips chase after the feeling you had been craving for the past few hours now. You whine when he hits the next red light, and he pulls his fingers away, and your hips buck into nothingness. You can see his smirk in the corner of your eye. But you refuse to look at him. He wasted all that time when he could have been doing this earlier. You refuse to give him the full satisfaction of looking at him, no matter how good it feels.

His fingers make quick work of your pants when the turning lane signal turns green. When that light turns red, it’s his turn to go. He asks as his hand hovers over you, “You going to look at me, doll?” You shake your head, and he mutters, “Fucking brat.” You look straight ahead, even when his hands run across your stomach and under your jeans. His fingers skim over your panties, and he chuckles, “Wet for me already, baby?” You roll your eyes; you had already told him that you were when you were sitting on your friend’s couch. Which makes him tsk, and his hands move away again as his foot presses on the brake. You sneak a glance at him and find he’s already looking at you. And fuck, did he look good under the warm glow of the streetlights. “That’s better…” You roll your eyes but don’t break your gaze, taking in all of his features. The light turns green, and since no one’s around, he places his hand under your jaw and brings you in for a kiss. When you break away, he slips his hand under your underwear when he accelerates this time, rubbing gently over your folds as you let out little whimpers. His fingers slip right in on the next green light as your hands wrap around his arm and grind up into his hand. His arm flexes in your hold as he goes through another green light, and his fingers move faster inside of you.

And just when you’re close to finishing, gasping and letting out soft moans, the light turns red. He slows down as he removes his fingers, making you cry out, begging for him to continue, “Ch-Changmin! Please! Please…” And he giggles as you try to grind into his hand, as your orgasm slowly ebbs away, “You knew what game we were playing, doll. Don’t act so surprised. It couldn’t stay green forever.” You damn the red light ahead of you. He makes the turn onto his road before lightly teasing your clit, not enough pressure to build up your orgasm again but enough to keep you on the edge. You can’t help the whimpers that you let slip out at the stimulation. You watch as his smile turns devilish over having full control over you. Tears prick your eyes as he starts slowing down to turn into his apartment complex’s parking lot. And he stops moving his fingers completely. He asks when he parks, “Aw, my poor baby. Did you not get what you wanted?” He smirks as he removes his fingers, and you slowly release his arm from your hold as you shake your head ‘no’.

He chuckles, “Sorry, babydoll. You should have been more patient. Maybe if you were, we wouldn’t have played this game. And I would have just fingered you all the way home, giving you exactly what you wanted.” He brings his wet fingers into his mouth and licks around them before releasing them with a pop. You watch in pure agony as he makes a show of it. You haphazardly fix your pants and open the door, eager to get inside, as he loiters up to his room, and you desperately drag him up the stairs. His pace remains slow and steady no matter how much you tug on him. He walks up the stairs as slowly as possible, fumbling with his keys before unlocking his apartment door. You groan at him, knowing he’s doing it on purpose. He lets you in first, and when he finally closes the door behind him, your hands are all over him.

And he doesn’t like that at all. He pushes you up against the wall, his hands holding your wrists over your head. “What do you think you’re doing? You don’t get to have your way after being such an impatient little brat earlier.” You glare at him, holding your ground, “You promised me you’d leave two almost three rounds ago! So, it’s not my fault for being impatient!” He cracks a grin at you, “Oh, so that’s what this is about? But weren’t you soooo needy for me before that?” You scowl at him, and he gives you a fake pout, “Aw, my poor baby couldn’t wait…” You glare, “I think we’ve established that.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “Copping an attitude right now? When I was just thinking about being nice and giving you what you’ve been so impatiently waiting for?” You gasp at that, thinking you had been too much of a brat in the past hour. He grins as he waits, “What, cat got your tongue?” You can’t think of any witty response and decide to give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you apologize. He hums, “Good girl.”

He drops his hold on your wrists, leading you to his room, and sits down on his bed with his hands behind him, resting his weight on them. You’re left standing there, and he says, “Since you were teasing me so much, might as well put on a show for me too.” You blush as you look at him. And slowly roll up your shirt over your head. He watches with a grin playing on his lips as you take off each article. “You look divine, babydoll.” He gives you another once over, humming to himself, and he beckons you to stand before him. He leans in, leaving kisses along your stomach as your hands run through his hair. He leaves a wet kiss between your breasts before his hands wrap around the back of your thighs before lifting you to sit on top of him. He tells you, “Show me how badly you want me right now.”

You could argue that he already knows how badly you want him, considering that’s why you’re here in the first place. But since you were already on thin ice, you didn’t want to ruin what little patience he had for you. So, you kiss along his jaw and grind your hips against the rough material of his jeans. You moan when you feel him underneath you and focus on grinding down into him. Creating a delicious friction for both of you. He lets out a little grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, baby.” You capture his lips in yours, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips. Your hips slow down as you kiss him, and he pulls away with his eyebrow raised, “You can do better than that.” You nod and resist the urge to kiss him again, knowing it would just slow you down again. You run your hands underneath his hoodie and along his bare torso, tugging at the garment. He doesn’t move to let you take it off. And he tsks at you, “You have to learn to be patient and wait.” You scoff but oblige, holding his waist as you start setting a pace. The friction of jeans feels good against you as you grind against him faster.

And just when you’re starting to feel an orgasm build up again, he flips you two over, and you whine. He wasn’t letting you have anything you wanted. You cross your arms over your bare chest, and scowl at him, which makes him laugh at you. “You’re cute when you don’t get your way.” You roll your eyes, and he points to the wet spot you left on him, “Look at the mess you made on me, doll.” You blush as you look at the darkened spot on jeans. He smears it around with a little grin playing on his lips before he unbuttons them and lets them fall to the floor. You sigh as he takes off his hoodie, revealing his chest that you wanted to leave marks all over. You watch in anticipation as his thumbs hook underneath his underwear. When he finally slips out of off, you grin. He asks in a teasing tone, “See something you want, sweetheart?” You quickly nod, and he smiles, putting his hands on either side of your hips before dropping down onto his knees in front of you. He tells you, “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

You grin, thinking you’ll get a reward for showing him how much you wanted him. He kisses your left thigh before sucking and nipping at the spot before repeating the same on the right. Leaving you writhing in pleasure as he works his way up to your core. He kisses your lower lips, letting out a low hum, sending shivers up your spine. His tongue darts in, and you relish in the feeling, and you look down at him to see him grinning. And he pulls away, you groan at him, “Why!?” He answers, “Only good little girls who have patience get eaten out, doll.” You want to argue you’ve been good, but you knew better. He places one last hickey on your thigh before kissing along your torso and up to your chest. Leaving hickeys all over as he works his way up before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hips can’t help but buck your hips up against his as you kiss him.

You feel him hold your hips down, and you sigh, “You’re not letting me have any fun…” He tsks at you, “If I give you an inch, you take a mile.” You resist making a dick joke, but your lips curling at the thought gives you away, and he gives you a light smack on your thigh. “Not what I meant.” You giggle, “You’re right, but it’s so funny.” He shakes his head as he laughs with you. He kisses you, “God, how could I ever give you a punishment? When you’re so cute.” You smirk, “I’m just too sweet, huh?” He rolls his eyes, “I didn’t say that.” He gives you a pointed look, “And I’ve already given you three. Don’t make me give you another.” You roll your eyes, not wanting to hear it anymore, “Can you just fuck me already?” He rolls his eyes at you as he lines his head up with your entrance, “Fine, you little brat.” You take the nickname in stride as Changmin fills you up to the brim.

You let out a moan when he bottoms out, “Fuck, that’s exactly what I wanted.” He smirks, teasing, “Oh, so you just wanted me to cockwarm you?” You groan out, “Not what I said!” He smirks, “I know.” He kisses you as his hips start rocking into yours, gently setting a pace. “You always take me so well.” He leans down to kiss you, and you grin as you makeout, finally feeling satisfied with him inside of you. When he pulls away, he picks up his pace. Your hands instantly grip his forearms as he starts fucking into you at a faster pace, trying to get a grip on the pleasure he is giving you. “You look like a mess already, babydoll.” You huff out, “It’s… It’s all your fault.” He grins wickedly, “That’s right, a mess just for me, huh?” You resist rolling your eyes at that, but your moans prove to be enough of an answer for him as he thrusts into you. When holding his arms is no longer enough, you move to grip the sheets beneath you, tightly keeping them in your hold as he fucks into you.

He leans down to leave wet kisses along your collarbone, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, leaving red splotches in his wake. You let out a whine, “Minnie?” He hums against your shoulder, “Hmm?” “Kiss me.” And he asks as his mouth hovers over yours, “Impatient still?” You look into his eyes, “For you? Always.” He captures your lips in his, and you close your eyes as you moan into the kiss, satisfied to have his lips on yours again. His hips grind into yours as he makes out with you. Your lips are swollen as he pulls away, and he can’t resist kissing you again. You let out soft moans against his lips as he kisses you. He moves back after another moment, and you let out a soft sigh. He starts thrusting into you again, picking his pace back up. Your hips start bucking to meet his movements, and he mutters, “Cute.” You clench around him as you feel yourself grow closer. You feel his weight shift and watch him move his left hand, and you wonder if he’s readjusting when he slides it along your waist before sliding it between your two bodies. He rubs along your folds before swirling his fingers around your clit, rubbing against it as you whine from the stimulation.

As he applies more pressure to your clit you let out a whimper of, “I’m- I’m close…” His eyes lock onto yours, and he tells you, “Beg for it.” In between moans, you say, “Please… Please let me cum.” You moan as you feel like the cord in you is about to snap. And whine, “Please-please-please- Minnie. Min- Please- I need to cum.” He hums as he fucks you harder, “I’m not so sure you deserve it after what you pulled earlier.” And you cry out as he hits a sensitive spot, “Can I please cum, please, Minnie? Please, I've been so good.” His tongue pokes his cheek, thinking about whether or not you deserve to, and you clench at the sight. That same stupid look he made earlier that led to this point. And he groans as you clench around him again, “Minnie, please- I’m gonna-” He finally tells you, “You can cum, doll.” You nearly see white as you finally release all over him. He continues fucking you through it, burying his face into your neck as he nears his own. He nips at your neck, “Such a fucking good-good girl for me.” His hips stutter as he groans, “Fuc-fuck. Where do you want it? On your stomach or?” And you whine, “In-Inside, please!” He groans at the thought as he leans his head up and captures your lips in a kiss as he finally hits his orgasm. His hips stutter against yours as he groans against your lips. He pulls his lips away to ride both of your orgasms out before pulling out. Causing everything to leak out of you. He groans at the sight, “Fuck, you look so pretty with cum spilling out of you.” His fingers twitch at the sight, unable to resist pushing it back in. You let out a whine at the overstimulation, “Changmin…” as he fucks it back inside of you. Your thighs shake as he continues, pumping his fingers in out of you, curling them inside as he pushes more of your combined cum back into you. And instead of edging you as he did in the car, he makes you cum all over his fingers, again, making a bigger mess. He shudders at the sight, “Oh, fuck, okay… I’m going to need another round, babydoll.” You sigh softly, coming off your high, “Give me a couple.” He nods, giving you a small smile, “Okay.”

He lays beside you, leaning on his side, and you lean over and finally place a hickey on his pretty chest. You sigh out, “Finally.” You place another kiss on his chest before laying back again. He shakes his head at you, finding you cute. As you both bask in the afterglow, he asks, “So, are you gonna tell me what made you act up in the first place?” You cast your eyes to the side he’s not on, “You looked so hot, all concentrated… And I uh…” He kisses your jaw, “And you what?” You sigh as you look into his eyes, “I wanted you to focus on me like that…” He smirks as he realizes what got you all hot and bothered for him earlier. “Was it this?” He cheekily sticks his tongue into his cheek as he scans over your naked body. Your jaw drops as he gives you that look. You let out a small, “Fuck,” and he grins, “I knew it.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “How?” He grins, “You almost drooled when you asked me to go home the first time. And when you were begging, and I did it, you clenched~” You roll your eyes at him and roll over to face him. Burying your face into his chest to place a few more hickeys along his chest. You hum as you move up to kiss along his neck, “You have the perfect neck for hickeys.” He shakes his head as he kisses the top of your head. You feel him hard against you again, and giggle into his neck as you suck another mark into it. When you pull back, to place another, his eyes capture yours and he asks, “You ready?” You whisper, “Yeah,” before kissing his adam’s apple, and he says, “I was hoping you’d say that.” He instantly grabs your leg, hooking it over his hip before lining up and pushing back into you. You both shudder at the feeling, still sensitive from your last orgasms. You grind your hips into his as he settles in. He leans his head towards yours, and you kiss him. Both of you moaning into the kiss as he starts moving inside of you. When you pull away from the kiss, you nestle your head into the crook of his neck before sucking marks into his skin again. His hips rock into yours faster as you both grow closer. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?” You moan, “Y-yes.” His lips attach to your neck, as you grow closer. And he nips at yours as you squeeze your eyes shut, moaning into his shoulder as you let the feeling wash over you. He pulls his lips back to groan into your neck as he hits his high. You let out a small laugh, “God, you look like a mess.” Looking over the red marks littering his chest, and his sweaty hair. He shakes his hair, “Me? Baby, you need to look at you. All fucked out for just for me.” You take a quick glance and notice all the hickeys he gave before leaning in and kissing him. His hand finds its way in your hair as he holds you close against him. When you break apart, you rest your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

When he pulls out again, your mixed cum leaks out of you again. Making the two of you let out soft, tired laughs. You ask him, “So, what took you so long to leave?” He smirks, trailing kisses down your neck, “I wanted to see how you’d last.” You lightly smack his shoulder, and he giggles, “You’re so easy to frustrate, babydoll.” He nips at a spot as you roll your eyes. You wait for him to pull back away from your neck before kissing him again. You stay like that for a few minutes, your lips moving together as he holds you close to him. When he pulls away, you pout, making him peck you on the lips before he gets up from the bed, “Come on, let’s go take a bath.” You cross your arms over your bare chest, “I’ll put in your favorite bath bomb~” You shake your head, “Oh? Is that not enough?” You shake your head, and he hums, “I’ll get those cute rubber duckies that you like out~” You hum at that but still shake your head, “Hmm… Would me massaging your scalp make you happy?” You try to hide your grin at that thought, and he pokes your cheek, “Will that make up for making you wait?” You can’t help but giggle when he pokes you, but shake your head ‘no’ again. He hums, “Would making you cum again underneath the soapy bubbles, make up for it?” You grin, nodding happily, and he rolls his eyes with a smile playing on his lips, “Your wish is my command, my precious little brat.” He pulls you up to the edge of the bed before kissing your forehead as you giggle. He pulls you to stand and kisses you when you’re standing in front of him before you both head into the bathroom.

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dc418writes · 13 days ago

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•A Simple Mistake•

✨Pairing✨: Francisco “Frankie” Moralesxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Frankie’s got some explaining to do

🚨: language, allusions to happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe!), mention of conning, stolen jewelry, ends in fluff🌸

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @beefrobeefcal ‘s Holiday Disaster Challenge (please everyone support the other submitted works!), and I hope yall enjoy what I came up with💕

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Also, although my writings are imagined with a black reader, everyone is welcomed to read and enjoy*

Prompt: Locked in a mall on Christmas

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid Frankie?!”

He cringes knowing you’d say that. He could practically hear it as he drove through the falling snow flurries as fast - yet carefully - as he could early this morning.

“Baby I know it sounds crazy-,”

“Then you bring a fruitcake as if that’ll magically erase everything?!”

He’ll admit that idea was a stretch. Shifting in his seat, he nervously chuckles raking his thick fingers through his coconut hair as he meets your heavily irritated eyes. “I know it’s your favorite so…”

A laugh burst from your lungs that’s everything but humorous as your hands briefly rest on the edge of the kitchen counter in front of you. Shaking your head, you can’t even look at him in fear of what your anger might make you do next. “I can’t believe you’re really trying to cute your way out of this.”

If only he’d gone to the mall at the beginning of the month - like his conscience told him - maybe none of this would’ve happened..

Walking through the busy mall, Frankie can’t help but bump into people with how packed it is. Every store nearly has a line flowing out the door filled with a mix of exhausted adults and wide eyed kids as Christmas music played overhead. Attempting to get their last requests in, kids lined up to see Santa with seemingly endless energy that even made him tired just watching as they bounced and giggled in line.

Frankie just hoped he could get your present quick to make it to your place in time. Your parents had just arrived in town the day before, and were waiting to meet the guy that had their daughter glowing and bubbly.

“I can’t wait for you guys to meet, everything’s gonna be great!,” you smiled sounding as excited as the kids in front of him.

For your sake, he hoped everything went well. Admittedly he didn’t have the best record with parents. Since he was a teen, there were a list of fathers that glared at him and mothers that, although sweet, were quick to try and point their daughter’s attention in a different direction. “He’s nice…but not for you sweetheart.”

“Everything’s gotta be perfect,” he thought to himself walking towards the kiosk he found online earlier. “Starting with this gift.

“Hey, could you uh fix this bracelet?,” he asks the bearded man in wire frames practically surrounded by glass cases. Different pieces of gold and silver jewelry shining under fluorescent lightbulbs as they sat on miniature white pillows.

“Hmm…looks like an easy fix,” he eventually replies after examining the vintage, gold piece encrusted in diamonds. It was your grandmother’s she personally passed down a couple years before her passing.

The night you finally decided to wear it - a date night with Frankie to a local lounge to be exact - the clasp broke preventing you from wearing it without it falling off.

“It’ll take about an hour or so. I can call you when it’s done.”

Frankie could do an hour. He’d have to go straight to the restaurant though not having any time to change, but at least he wouldn’t miss anything. “Yea sure that’s fine. Thanks for doing this man, I know it’s really last minute.”

The stranger just shrugs with a tilted smile, “Hey you need a service, I’m here.”

After giving his name and number, Frankie sought out somewhere less hectic than the nearby foodcourt where overly hyper kids could barely stay in their seats. All the massage chairs were out of the question being occupied by men - either sleeping or focused on their phones - waiting for their significant other.

That left the bathroom as his sanctuary.

Navy blue chair to match the peaceful lake scene framed on the sand colored wall, he let himself relax in the semi-private seating area with his legs crossed on the circular table in front of him and face hidden from the light by the black ball cap previously on his head of curls.

And maybe that was his true downfall of this whole ordeal seeing that he let himself get so relaxed that he fell asleep in that chair. It wasn’t until the next morning, Christmas morning, that he woke up to a security officer shaking his arm.

The man downstairs meant to help him gone and apparently never heard of whenever Frankie brought him up to the older officer.

Minutes later, after filling out an incident report, he was racing down the road with your four missed calls and 24 unread texts on his panicked mind. Not to mentioned your family heirloom stolen from right under his nose.

“Let me guess,” you begin crossing your arms against your chest with nostrils flared. One of the many tells of your anger he made sure to memorize. “Watching one of Ben’s fights with the boys, then out for drinks until you passed out at Pope’s and he gave you this insane story he was sure I’d believe.”

“You can call any of ‘em and they’ll tell you I wasn’t there,” he answers with brown eyes full of sorrow reminding you of a puppy in a window just wishing for a new home. Part of you desperately wants to believe him - that he didn’t stand up you and your parents out of malice - but the damage was already done and hurt set in too far.

“And them lying for you would never be a possibility right?”

He practically handed you the gasoline and lighter with that one. “Alright that happened once, but I swear on my mother’s grave-,”

“If you didn’t wanna meet my parents, all you had to do was say you weren’t ready,” you state. Your voice coming out shaky and eyes beginning to gloss unable to hold back your disappointment any further. “I get it. It’s stressful and comes with a lot of pressure trying to impress someone, but communicate that Frankie.”

Standing, he moves to your side carefully attempting to reach out for your arm but is unsurprised when you recoil moving a few steps away. “Baby I promise that wasn’t it.”

“Then what?!”

Before any of you can say more, a hard knock startles both you and your boyfriend. Both of your brown eyes looking towards the front door until a couple more knocks follow.

“Hold on!,” Frankie announces walking the short distance to the white door. Peeking through the peephole, he sees another officer waiting on the other side with hands on his hips.

“Who is it?,” you ask, but he holds up his hand signaling for you to wait.

“Morning officer, can we help you?” Admittedly, he was nervous one of your neighbors might’ve called because of the yelling.

“Morning and Merry Christmas,” he replies with a kind smile. “I’m officer Declan here for Francisco Morales..? I’m following up on an incident of a stolen bracelet.”

“Yea that’d be me,” he sighs. This definitely isn’t how he wanted you to find out.

“Bracelet?,” you ask striding to Frankie’s side with a confused tilt to your brows. “Frankie, what’s he talking about?”

“Looks like his is one of many cases in the area regarding the same man. He’s been conning people pretending as if he can fix jewelry. Tall, somewhat portly with a thick beard and blue eyes covered by wire glasses?”

Frankie nods. “You got him?”

“We did around six this morning.” That wasn’t too much earlier than when Frankie woke up in the mall. “He had a bit of an accident due to the ice on the road and tried running on foot. Many witnesses saw and were able to help him be captured along with some stolen jewelry.

Reaching in his pocket, he removes your bracelet in the same condition it was when he dropped it off much to his relief. “Is this yours?”

“Yes! Well hers actually, but yea,” he answers letting the officer drop it in his palm before turning it over to you. “Thank you so much.”

“Glad we could help! Oh, and we’ll get that loitering complaint with the mall sorted out too don’t worry Mr. Morales. And if you’d like to issue a counter-complaint with the mall-,”

“Wait…s-so you really got locked in the mall..,” you state now feeling like the bitchiest bitch to ever bitch. And on Christmas!

“Told you I knew it sounded crazy,” Frankie painfully smiles turning his attention back to the man at his front door. “Thanks again for all your help. You and the department both.”

“We’re always here to help. If you need anything else, just call the station and ask for me. You two have a great holiday.”

With a polite nod to both of you, Officer Declan was gone down the hall back to his squad car and you utterly guilty for your earlier outburst.

“So that’s why you were at the mall. To get my bracelet fixed…,” you quietly state following him back to the kitchen.

“Yea, and I fell asleep waiting for that ass to get done but then it was morning and he was long gone.”

“Aww my poor baby.” He softly chuckles as you cling to the front of him with arms tightly wrapped around his middle. “What kind of security doesn’t check in the bathroom at closing? And then to say you were loitering?!”

“It’s alright-,”

“No it’s not!,” you counter looking up at your too sweet of a boyfriend. “Wait till I get down there, they’ll regret even letting you in the mall when I’m done! Then you should sue!”

“Baby it’s really not that serious,” he chuckles pecking your heated forehead until that line in the middle disappeared. “I’m fine, made it home. Just a crazy story that hopefully your parents won’t try to kill me over.”

“They won’t because I won’t let them. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

He shrugs soothingly rubbing along your back. “You believe me now though. That’s all that matters.”

“I still shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Wasn’t the first. Probably won’t be the last.” That makes you both laugh continuing to hold each other.

“And thank you for trying to get my bracelet fixed,” you speak after you’ve both calmed down. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I hate I nearly lost it forever though.”

“But it was found! And to further show my appreciation and how sorry I am, I ask that you let me treat you for the day.” The way your voice turns more sultry and eyes hazy, he can read between the lines for what that means but he still likes to hear the exact words from your full lips.

“And how exactly would you do that?,” he asks tightening his grip on your hips as his voice deepens that way you like.

“However you want,” you whisper.

As promised, Frankie had the say of whatever he wanted, which led to you have to reschedule with your parents for tomorrow afternoon. And if he hadn’t before, by the end of the night while he held your sleeping and sated body close, Frankie believed in Christmas miracles.

#francisco morales #Frankie morales #frankie morales x woc #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #Pedro pascal #festive failure 2024

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bananaactivity · 2 months ago

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Scene Draw + Excerpt

Kai didn’t even flinch as Marcus continued to stare, as though he knew what was going on inside Marcus’ head. He simply let him look, neither enjoying nor rejecting it, just... observing, in his typical cool and collected way. Marcus couldn’t quite figure out if he was making Kai uncomfortable or if Kai was just playing with him, letting him stew in the silence.

Finally, Kai broke the stillness, his voice cutting through the air like smooth silk. “You gonna say something, or are you gonna keep staring?” The words were dry, matter-of-fact, almost as if he was bored by Marcus’ lack of response.

Before he could find his voice, Kai smoothly glided over to his record player, pulling it out of its corner with practiced ease. He sifted through the stack of vinyl records, his fingers pausing, as though considering each one carefully before selecting a particular record. He looked up at Marcus, holding the album up in a way that didn’t quite demand attention but certainly got it.

“You look like a Radiohead... In Rainbows?” Kai asked, his tone nonchalant, but there was a slight edge of amusement in his voice.

Marcus blinked, completely caught off guard. He hadn't remembered sharing his taste in music with Kai, and yet, there he was, reading him like an open book. Marcus’ heart skipped a beat as he tried to gather his thoughts. He nodded slowly, still stunned that Kai had pegged him so easily. “Yeah... yeah, that’s right,” Marcus stammered, then tried to regain some composure, muttering, “In Rainbows is... yeah. It’s a good album. I- It's my favorite album” Marcus remembered the times spent in his dads old evil lair. Those few moments he used to crave back then; when he would spend time with Marcus outside of planning his stupid plots. “Coke Baby” vibrating in the background. They'd sit with their guitars and his dad would pretentiously claim that he'd known Radiohead before the Creepers; strumming on his out of tune on his guitar. Marcus didn't care one way or the other, their music was just as good no matter how popular it was. And when he was alone he’d play “Creep“ right along with “ 15 Step” and his personal favorite “Reckoner”. When he first infiltrated the Davenports he'd gotten them into it as well. Chase rattled off every fact possible about Thom Yorke like he had lived in his walls and Leo continued a long stream of jokes at Marcus expense about the hell of Radiohead fans' pretentiousness and distinct lack of bitches. Adam ate the walls. Their Dad ,Davenport, sat and watched them quietly whenever they played those tunes. Usually he tuned them out but he always came around if he caught wind of the band, and once had requested a playing of “Coke Baby” before excusing himself swiftly. Bree ignored them all when they played preferring One Direction over everything. Marcus' hard drive had stored all these memories in a file marked Music. It was his most precious file and it was like this guy had sifted through it and found just the right thing.

Kai’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, a dry purr escaping him as he lowered the record to the turntable. “Someone has good taste,” he murmured, as though it was an observation he’d made a thousand times before. It was an offhand comment, but it felt loaded especially with all the thoughts Marcus was now spinning.

LMAOO technically the first eleven chapters of my fic have been posted but it’s basically the quality of a first draft. (One person was really into tho lmao) I’m still working on the final 12 chapters while also reworking the ones I already have posted. I even have a sequel in the works and I STILL haven’t finished the original work. Lmao this ship is like the only ship that Ive ever been this invested in my whole life. If your interested in reading the first draft of the eleven available chapters it’s right here:

#kickin it #lab rats elite force #lab rats #marcus davenport #kai brewer

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janetbrown711 · 1 year ago

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Why Am I Like This?

Mikey gets really bored one day and decides to play with Raph's shiny new toy, despite being told several times not to, and breaks it.

Raph does not take this well.

Ao3 Link

Mikey was bored.

And not just regular, every day bored, nonono. This boredom was the mind-numbing and annoying type– the type that left you paralyzed and unable to think of anything to do, but Mikey had to do something.

He could practice with his nunchucks, but ever since he was downgraded to foam instead of wood, it just felt like a joke. Sure, he liked whirling it around, but Master Splinter always said this was supposed to be for self-defense, not fun, so playing around was strictly forbidden.

He could just reread his comics again, but while Splinter had gone for a scavenge recently, he didn’t bring Mikey anything of interest, other than those finger skateboard things. He’d already played with that thing to death, so that was also a total “no-go”.

Now, he could try and hang out with Leo or Raph or Donnie, but Donnie was busy trying to find a way to recharge lightbulbs, Leo was watching the second season of Space Heroes for the bajillionth time, and Raph was doing one-on-one practice with Splinter, so that wasn’t happening.

Mikey groaned, flopping his head into his pillow for the billionth time. “If only Leo liked a different, cooler show,” he sighed dramatically, before sitting up.

On the topic of “different” and “cooler”, Raph had been given a super special super cool still-in-box action figure of Aspara-Gus from Fantastic Four Food Groups. Mikey would’ve totally claimed it for himself, but he hadn’t heard Splinter call for him until Leo knocked on his door. From what the box claimed, it was supposed to light up and say up to six catchphrases! Mikey had been sooooo jealous, but Raph said he couldn’t play with it.

Wait– no. What he specifically said was, “Mikey, if you touch my Aspara-Gus, I’ll turn you into a pulp.” Classic Raph.

But– like… it wasn’t like he’d know. He was busy training with Master Splinter! Plus, he heard Raph open it up earlier, so it was practically begging to be played with!

Mikey grinned, hopping off his bed and bolting to Raph’s room, before opening his door all ninja-like and finding the bright green action figure sitting right on his bed next to a broken red car toy that was missing two doors.

Mikey practically had stars in his eyes as he admired the nearly mint condition of the doll, with its see-through green sparkly plastic and smooth edges. He giggled with excitement before pressing the little green button on its side.

“Eat your vegetables, kids!”

Mikey’s face felt flat and he tried again.

“You’re no match for the power of vitamin K!”

“Man, why does Raph even like that stupid comic,” Mikey muttered and gave it one last try.

“It’s Aspara-Gus to the res–” the phrase was cut off by a sudden, ear-piercing shriek.

“ACK!” Mikey immediately covered his ears, before getting the idea to try and smother it with Raph’s pillow. That it didn’t work well enough, the sound still splitting his skull. Out of desperation and panic, he sat on top of the pillow, which finally muted it enough so the pain stopped.

“Whew, that’s a relief,” Mikey wiped off non-existent sweat from his forehead. The ten-year-old continued sitting on the pillow until the faint ringing finally stopped, and he got off, picking up the figure again and–

Uh oh.

Apparently, sitting on pillows over action figures could cause their arms to break off. Who knew?

“Well… at least the toy was busted anyway…?” Mikey laughed nervously. He knew that totally wasn't gonna be good enough for Raph, though, and he'd totally flip when he found out.

“Okay, well– maybe I can fix it! Yeah! I just gotta pop that bad boy back on; it’ll be good as new,” Mikey picked up the action figure and arm and tried reconnecting the broken pieces, but alas, it wasn’t a simple “pop off”. Instead, the hinge had cracked into two and without both pieces being together and stable, there was no point attempting to reattach it.

Shin splints, he was totally screwed.

“Yeah, yeah, be right there, Leo,” Mikey heard Raph call from not too far, causing him to panic and hide the evidence under his brother’s pillow before booking into his room where he caught his breath. Once that was all in control, he put on his coolest, most calm-est and collected-est face he could manage and walked super, duper casually to the pit and sat next to Leo, catching only a casual and cool glance at Raph.

“Oh hey, Mikey! Whatcha been up to,” His eldest brother smiled.

“Ohhh, you knowww,” Mikey tried to wave him off, fidgeting with his knee pads anxiously.

“Oh, well, I was just waiting for Raph to start the new episode of Space Heroes, since it's his favorite and all,” Leo gave him a weird glance before turning back to the TV. “It’s the one where the Dr. Mindstrong goes back to his home planet and meets up with his–”

Leo rambled on for a little bit, which Mikey usually liked listening to, but right now he was way too on edge. He just kept glancing back to the hallway to their bedrooms and waiting for his inevitable doom.

“–smiles! He actually does! But Raph just likes it for the fight scene at the end, I dunno. What do you think?” Leo asked Mikey, who quickly tried to act like he had been paying attention.

“My favorite episode is still the one where the dude grows a beard and the vampires,” Mikey decided to say.

Leo laughed. “That’s my favorite too.”

“What can I say? I have imbeccable taste,” Mikey grinned nice and wide.

“It’s impeccable, Mikey,” Leo laughed more, which Mikey joined in to cover the fact he said that by mistake.

However, the laughter couldn’t last long, as there was a ground-shaking slam and angry stomping into the living-area as Raphael–

Oh frick–

“MIKEY!!!” Raph shouted, face almost as red as his mask.

“Eep! Save me, Leo!” Mikey jumped and ducked behind his eldest brother.

“Wha–? Raph, what did Mikey do?” Leo looked around all confused.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what the little punk did,” Raph growled, only getting closer and closer. “He broke my brand new Aspara-Gus!!!”

Leo gasped, turning to his brother. “You– you didn’t actually…?”

“I-it was an accident, I swear! I-I was just–” Mikey tried to defend himself, but didn’t get a chance as Raph practically tackled him and the two started wrestling.

“It was brand new, Mikey! Right outta the box and I told you–I told you you weren’t allowed to touch it!” Raph shouted at him, despite being inches away.

“It was already broken, man! I-It made a high-pitched screechy noise– I was trying to fix it!” Mikey pleaded tearfully, trying to kick his brother off of him, landing a hit right in the plastron that winded him.

Mikey would’ve scuttled away, but Raph managed to grip his arm tight and twisted it until Mikey was on his knees begging for him to stop.

“I always tell you not to touch my stuff! And you always do! Are you deaf or just a stupid, dumb little idiot?!” Raph growled and twisted tighter.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I-I didn’t mean to–! I just–”

“GOD– you just always do this! You’re just– you’re just so stupid and annoying and useless– why do we even keep you around when all you do is break our stuff–”

“Yame!” the commanding voice of Master Splinter rang from the dojo, and Raph instantly let go of Mikey’s arm, though kicked his shell and he fell completely to the ground. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Mikey broke the brand new Aspara-Gus action figure you got me! And I specifically told ‘im he couldn’t play with it!” Raph accused.

“Michelangelo, is this true?” Splinter looked at him, eyebrows all down and serious like.

“I-I– I didn't mean to–”

“He never listens to me or anyone, Master Splinter! I told him not to! He's such a screw-up!” Raph interrupted him.

“Raphael– a word,” Splinter narrowed his eyes on his elder brother.

“What?! Me?! But it was Mikey wh–!”

“No ‘but's. Now.” He ordered, and Raph stormed angrily back into the dojo.

However, Splinter wasn’t finished, and gave Mikey a look too.

“We will talk later, Michelangelo,” He sighed heavily and followed the steps of his furious child.

Mikey knew he was already crying, but he wanted to cry even more now.

“Mikey… why did you break his Aspara-Gus?” Leo asked.

“I didn't mean to! I-I don't wanna be a screw-up! I-I don't wanna be me!” Mikey shouted.

Leo winced. “Mikey, you aren't a screw-up.”

“Yeah, you just don't know how to listen,” Donnie piped up near his “lab”.

“Donnie,” Leo whisper-yelled and gave the purple turtle a look.

“What?! I'm just trying to–”

“Yeah, well, just let me–”

“You're always the one to–”

“Well, maybe if you were actually ni–”

Mikey couldn't stand all this fighting. He needed to get out here– and not to his room; Splinter or Leo would find him there, and they'd tell him he messed up, and blah blah blah he was a big stupid screw up– which he already knew! He just– he didn't need to hear it. He didn't need any of this–

If he wanted to get away unnoticed, he needed to go now.

Mikey glanced around, seeing Leo and Donnie still arguing, and no sign of Raph and Splinter leaving the dojo any time soon. And so, using all the super quiet super ninja skills he knew, he made his way to the water and lowered himself down until he was completely and silently submerged. Calmly and carefully, Mikey fought the urge to cry even underwater, and swam far, far, far, far away.

So far away, in fact, that when Mikey finally emerged for air, he realized he didn't have a clue where he was.

“This is fine, this is a-okay,” Mikey told himself, finally pulling himself out of the water and onto the cold concrete path. He rolled onto his shell, exhaustion suddenly hitting him all at once.

“This… This is super fine. I wanted air, and now I’m getting it,” He sniffled a little, a dull pain in his chest growing sharper.

Raph thinks he’s useless. And annoying. And a screw-up.

Mikey doesn’t mean to. He loves his brothers and dad! He doesn’t mean to always be so distracted or impulsive or whatever. He swore he tried. He tried so, so, so hard to be good.

But he wasn’t. Again, and again, and again, Mikey wasn’t good. He broke things. He went too far. He didn’t pay attention. He didn’t listen.

His brothers could do all those with ease, even Raph. That had to mean something, right?

Of course it did. It meant Michelangelo was bad. He wasn’t really trying his best to be good because if he were, then he’d be good already. It wasn’t hard for his brothers, but it was hard for Mikey because Mikey was bad.

The tears were quick to return as Mikey picked himself up and started walking further into unknown parts of the sewers. He didn’t care if he was getting lost, he deserved it. He was a bad kid, just like Raph said, and they’d be better off without him.

They’d be better off without him.

.o0o.

Raph was angry.

He sat on his knees in the dojo, filled with rage, hot and heavy in his face and chest. It made his breathing heavy and fists curl in his lap as his head just swirled and swirled and swirled until–

“Raphael. I understand Michelangelo made you very upset by breaking your toy, and I’m very sorry that happened, but calling your brother a ‘screw-up’ will not go back and fix things,” Splinter said as he kneeled right in front of him.

Raph’s fists tightened. “I-I– it was brand new, Master Splinter– We never get new things a-and I just– I was so excited,” he confessed, his voice wavering.

Splinter smiled sadly. “I know, my son, I know. I am sorry I cannot provide such things more often, and I’m sorry Michelangelo broke it. I’m sure he feels absolutely terrible about it.”

A lump formed in Raph’s throat as he kept his eyes low and focused on his father’s knees. “But– he just– he doesn’t stop, a-and– and it just– it makes me so mad…”

Splinter nodded slowly. “Your anger is understandable, my son. Nobody likes to have their things destroyed, but that is not an excuse to make your brother feel worthless.”

Raph sniffled. “I– I didn’t… I didn’t actually mean to– I just– I get so mad,” he whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face right before he felt Master Splinter take him into his arms and hold him close.

“I know you are not a mean boy, Raphael. You have a very good heart that gets blinded by very strong and powerful emotions,” Splinter assured, wiping some of his tears away.

“I just– I-I can’t fight it– it’s like I can’t stop myself, I just– I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him so bad,” Raph wept into his father’s sleeve.

“But you don’t now, do you?” Splinter asked.

Raph shook his head. “I don’ wan’ him to hate me…”

His father laughed a little. “Michelangelo doesn’t hate you– I don't even believe he can. You know, you two have much more in common than you think.”

“But I can hate him. I-I can hate him a lot– does that make me bad?” Raph sniffled again.

“You don’t actually hate him, Raphael. If you did, you would not feel remorse for your actions,” His father assured, rubbing soothing circles on Raph’s shell.

Raph didn’t know what to say, looking back at the ground and resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Anger is an emotion that occurs in all living creatures, even myself. You are not wrong for feeling upset that something precious to you was harmed, but there are more productive ways to problem-solve than breaking your brother’s arm,” Splinter chuckled a little.

“... Like what?” Raph ventured to ask.

“Well… there is always breathing and meditation–”

“But it’s so boringgggg,” Raph interrupted.

Splinter laughed. “I know it is hard, but allowing yourself to feel and understand your emotions can help you rid yourself of all this confusion in your young mind,” he stroked the top of Raph’s head for emphasis.

“I-I guess…” Raph looked at his hands.

“Or perhaps you can try going to your room to separate yourself from the situation until you feel more in control of yourself. You could do things like draw or read comics or even scream into a pillow until you feel all better,” Splinter then suggested, which didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

“I guess I can try that,” Raph shrugged a little, smiling a little when he heard his dad sigh a bit in relief.

“You are a good son, Raphael...”

“Thank you, Master Splinter,” Raph said, still not quite looking at him.

“... Which is why I know that you’ll apologize to Michelangelo as soon as possible, no?” Splinter asked, and Raph tensed a bit.

“I– yeah… I should…” he bit his lip and Splinter hugged him a little tighter before setting him down.

“Good,” He smiled at Raph softly, which Raph managed to return before they both stood and went to the dojo doors, where Splinter opened to find Leo and Donnie arguing about something by themselves.

“Leonardo, Donatello– where is Michelangelo?” Splinter looked left and right as he stepped out in the living space.

Leo stopped arguing and looked around. “I– wasn’t he right here?” he asked Donnie.

“I thought so?” His purple brother shrugged.

The confusion made a knot tie in Raph’s stomach, especially when he saw how it made Splinter’s eyebrows grow close and wrinkly before he shook his head.

“Perhaps he has just gone to rest in his room. I’ll go check on him,” Splinter patted Raph’s head before speed walking to the bedrooms.

Raph could feel his brother’s eyes, the second Splinter was gone, which only made the knot tighten. “You got a problem?”

Donnie backed up. “Me? No. We just– umm…”

Leo wasn’t as much of a scaredy-cat, though, looking at Raph and asking, “Are you okay?”

Raph rolled his eyes. “M’fine, it was just a stupid toy.”

“Of your favorite comic book character,” Donnie pointed out.

“Yeah…” Raph kicked the ground a bit. “But I– I went too far, like always…”

Leo smiled a little. “I’m sure Mikey’ll forgive you.”

Raph stayed quiet.

Splinter came back in not too long, looking around frantically as his eyebrows just got more and more scrunched together with worry.

“Master Splinter?” Leo spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Their father stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Is there anywhere around the lair your brother could possibly be hiding?”

Leo, Donnie and Raph all looked at each other nervously.

Donnie was the first to suggest, “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”

Splinter shook his head. “I’ve already checked there. Anywhere else?”

Leo bit his cheek. “Maybe under his bed?”

Their father shook his head again.

Donnie suddenly snapped his fingers. “He likes hiding in the kitchen cupboards sometimes!”

Splinter sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I have already checked there as well.”

The knot in Raph’s stomach tightened. “S-so he’s…?”

“I will go out to find him. You three stay here. I will be back soon,” Splinter decided, finally stepping down into the pit, where they hugged him tight.

“Is Mikey gonna be okay, Master Splinter?” Leo asked.

“Of course, my son,” Splinter assured, patting the eldest brother’s head, but Raph could tell he was lying by the tension in his hands.

The hug broke, and the turtles watched as Splinter went to the turnstiles, but stopped right before he would’ve disappeared into the endless tunnel systems.

“I will be back soon, my sons, do not worry. Stay safe,” He smiled at each of them (especially Raph) before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Leo and Donnie both hesitated, but sat back on the couch, meanwhile Raph couldn’t help but pace around the pit.

“Why would Mikey just run off like that? He’s never done that before,” Leo looked at Donnie.

“I don’t know, it’s really not like him. He's always been so afraid of the outside, it doesn't make sense,” Donnie shrugged, but Raph just rolled his eyes.

“You two have got to stop pretending this isn’t allmy fault,” He snipped, and both brother’s eyes turned to him.

Leo stood. “Raph–”

“Stop!!!” Raph shouted. “I hurt him! Because of a stupid toy! And called him useless and a screw-up a-and–” Raph internally cursed himself as he felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes once more.

“Splinter will find him, Raph. It’ll be okay,” Leo smiled and tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but Raph brushed it off.

“I'm gonna go look for ‘im,” He announced, making his way to the water entrance.

“Raaaaaaph, Master Splinter said we need to stay here,” Donnie whined, looking around nervously.

Raph huffed and rolled his eyes. “Think of it this way: Master Splinter is going north, and I'm going south. One of us'll find him eventually.”

“You're leaving out east and west,” Donnie looked unconvinced.

“Whatever. If you two wanna do that, be my guest. I'm going out,” Raph went to jump, but Leo suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Raph, Splinter doesn't need us running away right now,” Leo pleaded, and Raph snagged his arm away.

“Stay here then, for all I care. We'll see who really finds Mikey,” He glared before diving in and swimming away.

.o0o.

Mikey was cold.

Of course, he usually was after swimming around and stuff, but there were also a lot more grates outside the lair than inside.

He wished he could reach them. That he could stick his fingers through and feel the fresh night– or catch a cigarette butt, more likely.

Then again, who needed to reach for cigarette butts when they could just fall on your head?

Mikey had dusted off five butts before he just decided to keep moving past the grates.

Probably the smartest thing he did all day.

Mikey sighed and hugged his arms. He had no idea where he was anymore, and there was still a voice in his head telling how stupid he was for getting himself lost, but he was just so tired of it. He already knew he was an idiot, no need for reminders.

Besides, it was his goal, right? He wanted to run away so he'd stop ruining everything for his brothers and Splinter.

He was a screw-up. This plan probably wouldn't work, and he'd get his dad worried to death about him because he was a stupid crybaby.

… He wished he could go back. He didn't actually want to run away. He missed his brothers– he missed his Papa– he was so, so cold.

The answer for the chilly temperature suddenly appeared when after Mikey rounded a corner, he saw a massive stormwater outlet that–

Woah…

A bitter, cold breeze stung through, but Mikey didn't care, approaching the view of the sparkling lights of the city off of… a river? The ocean? Whatever it was, it was a lot of water and Mikey was mesmerized. Trees were also visible, though most were missing their leaves since it was late November. Mikey didn't mind that, though, as it was still one of the prettiest things he had ever seen.

He didn't deserve such a pretty thing. He'd probably ruin it somehow. Maybe he'd blurt something out, and it would make all the animals scared or angry, and then they'd try to attack him. Or maybe a human would find him, and then he'd get experimented on, like in alien comics.

Mikey's head ached, and so despite his want to leave, he decided to sit there and rest awhile.

He got roughly five seconds of peace before his stomach growled painfully.

“Man, all that swimming really got me hungry, eh?” He joked to no one, hoping it would make it hurt less.

It didn't.

The ten-year-old closed his eyes, trying not to imagine how worried Splinter would be and the lecture he’d get for being all stupid and impulsive despite being told many, many times to just use his stupid head.

Another gust of cold wind blew by, causing Mikey to shudder. He wished he had a blanket or something with him, but then again it would’ve gotten totally soaked, and he would’ve ruined a perfectly nice blanket that Master Splinter worked so hard to get for them.

He would do just about anything in the world to swap brains with Donnie, or Leo, or even Raph.

His brothers were the coolest people in the world, even if they could be a bit mean. Leo was so nice and always picked up any moves Splinter taught the fastest. Donnie was super good at math and stuff and was always working on super sciencey stuff that had Mikey convinced he should win an award or something. And sure, Raph had his anger issues, but he could fight the best out of all four of them, and Mikey wished he could be half as cool as him.

But he wasn’t. He was just stupid, annoying, useless, little screw-up Mikey who couldn’t listen or sit still or focus or remember anything.

… He wasn’t surprised when he noticed himself crying.

He opened his eyes again, surprised to find a beetle crawling up one of the pipes of the outlet.

“Hi, Mr. Beetle. I’m Michelangelo,” he joked, holding out a finger that the bug didn’t climb onto.

“Ah, you don’t wanna be my friend? It’s okay, I wouldn’t be my friend either,” He smiled as he felt tears start to rush.

“S-see– I’m a big jerk. I break my brother’s toys, a-and I don’t sit still or stop makin’ annoying noises, even when they ask all nicely,” the ten-year-old wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Master Splinter says it isn’t my fault– b-but I know he’s just being nice. Raph’s right, I’m just a big screw-up and a jerk, too.”

The beetle twitched its wings a little, making Mikey laugh a little again.

“I’m probably annoying you right now, too. I bet you got a family nearby, and I’m keeping you away from ‘em. M’sorry, Mr. Beetle,” Mikey’s lower lip trembled as his stomach rumbled yet again.

“Say, you– uh… wouldn’t have some food on you, would you?” he joked, but the beetle flew away, causing the boy to break into sobs.

“M’so sorry, Raph,” he whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t mean to be bad. I just can’t stop. I know I’m a failure, I just– I wanna be good so bad, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

He let himself break into sobs as more wind rushed by, causing Mikey to instinctively curl tighter as he felt himself start to shut down into sleep– which was weird because it wouldn’t be bedtime for three more hours.

Maybe it was just all the crying like a baby he was doing. He was weak like that.

“M’sorry I don’t listen, Papa– I really wanted to, b-but I can’t– I’m not good like them. I know you tried– m’so, so sorry,” He sobbed further, fully leaning into the circle so he faced the bars.

The sky looked so pretty as snowflakes began to fall, making Mikey feel like he was almost in a snow globe.

Mikey took a long breath, feeling sleep slowly but surely overcome him as all he could focus on was the glittering skylights, his hunger, and how he already missed his family more than anything.

“I’ll go back soon, I just gotta–” Mikey yawned– “take a little nap first…”

Mikey yawned, curling tighter as with this rush of air he fell into a deep, deep, deep sleep.

.o0o.

Raph was getting nervous.

Looking for Mikey was harder than he had expected, but his guilt kept him moving on despite the ever-growing feeling he was starting to get lost…

“You owe Mikey to find him, Raph. Just keep moving,” He told himself just as bits and pieces of a sandwich that had been dropped fell on his head.

“Man, I hate being in the sewers alone,” Raph muttered, wiping the mayo-soaked lettuce bits and a tomato off his head while also avoiding stepping on a broken phone and what looked like a (thankfully) squashed cockroach. Of course, this was entirely his own fault, but this was a good thing; he was taking responsibility for his actions, just like Master Splinter always told him he should. And he was!

Sure, it was also against Splinter’s direct instructions not to leave their lair, but it was also following his instructions to apologize to Mikey as soon as possible! Yes, yes, truly the most flawless logic turtle-kind had ever known.

Raph was just glad Donnie wasn’t here to rub that in.

The boy walked for what felt like forever, when he noticed a sudden temperature drop that had him shuddering and rubbing his arms.

“Jeez– someone got an evil snow cone machine going wild?” He grumbled, referencing one of his comics.

As he got closer, he realized he could hear wind blowing fiercely from what had to be more than just the regular sewer grate. As he turned the corner, he could see that yep, it was a stormwater outlet and–

“MIKEY-!” Raph cried, rushing to his brother’s side, startled to find him asleep.

“Mikey?! Mikey, wake up! What’s wrong with you?” Raph asked, panicking more and more by the second.

“Ughhh… Raph?” Mikey mumbled, barely cracking an eye open.

“Why are you so tired? You hate bedtime!” Raph pointed out, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not– Look, I came here to say–”

“M’tired… talk soon,” Mikey clicked his tongue weakly before his eyes closed again.

“What?! Mikey, you jerk wad! I was apologizing!” Raph growled and shook his brother, but it did nothing to wake him.

Alarms triggered in his head as he tried shaking his brother again, but nothing happened.

“M-Mikey…? Mikey, you’re okay, right?” Raph looked around for any signs of danger or trouble, but couldn’t find anything other than the picturesque night sky and snowfall.

“Woah…” Raph momentarily forgot his panic to admire it, since Master Splinter not only said they were super banned from going outside, but they were double banned from snow because they could accidentally trigger hibern–

Oh no.

“Shoot– Mikey! You know we’re not allowed to–” Raph kicked himself mentally as he realized he was already falling through on his promise. “Look– you’re gonna be okay, okay, Mikey? I just gotta– um…” Raph looked around for anything that would be remotely warm but was just met with moss covered walls, and was it just him or were there suddenly a lot more bugs around here than there were before?

However, he figured just getting his brother away from the drain would get him warmer, and so stood up and tried slinking Mikey on his back as much as possible.

“It’s okay Mikey, I’ll get you back safe and warm in the lair, I promise,” Raph bit his cheek as he struggled readjusting his brother on his shell before starting to walk off.

It certainly wasn’t easy though. While Raph was older and a little bigger, it wasn't enough to make this a breeze. Plus, Mikey wasn’t even trying to support himself since he was all tired and stuff. To make up for it, Raph had to take big, long steps that didn’t always mesh well with the algae, garbage and bug-covered sewers.

However, he promptly halted when he finally reached the remnants of that sandwich that got dropped on his head, which now had a humongous pile of cockroaches on it.

“Gross gross gross gross–” Raph gagged, taking a frantic step back and almost dropping Mikey in the process. He looked around nervously to see if there was some other way he could get to the lair, but that rapidly proved itself to be a waste, as more and more disgusting pests were gathering by the second, and no amount of will power summoned an alternate path.

“M-Master Splinter? Can you hear me?” Raph called, desperate to get out of here already.

He looked at the bugs again and took another instinctive step back. “D-Dad, I really, really hate bugs, I don’t wanna do this,” he felt tears threaten to fall, which just made him more angry at himself. He was trying to save Mikey from accidentally falling asleep for the next three months, he did not need to be acting like a baby!

“Okay, Raph, y-you got this– you can save Mikey, I believe in you,” He told himself, taking a careful and calculated step forward, and a wave of nausea hit that made him want to turn and puke.

But he couldn't! He was a turtle on a mission here! He couldn’t get sick on Mikey now– especially because the drain wasn't too far and that grate was channeling pretty strong winds– If Raph stayed for too long then he’d get all sleepy too and Master Splinter would be double disappointed.

“Alright, guess I’ll just…” Raph mentally prepared himself, stepping one foot at a time at a very slow pace– until the fourth step, where he definitely stepped on a bug, and he completely froze. His instincts were completely useless as he felt two more try to crawl on his leg, causing him to instantly book it as fast as he could.

“Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew–” He kept whispering to himself before he suddenly slipped on the mossy floor and he and Mikey fell into the sewer water.

He completely lost all contact with his brother as he fumbled around in the current, and it took a solid minute before he could get his head clear and broke for the surface.

“MIKEY!” He called, looking around for his brother, but not finding him.

He dove back underwater with urgency and found his little brother beginning to sink. With a grunt of determination, Raph swam with all his might to grab his arms and drag his still cold body to the surface.

“R-Raph?” Mikey croaked between coughs.

“MIKEY!” Raph hugged his brother tight. “Mikey, it’s okay! We’ll be back home soon, I promise,” he assured, and Mikey chuckled weakly.

“You really do care, you big sap,” His little brother smiled weakly.

“Shut up or I'll let you drown,” Raph tried acting tough again, but Mikey's exhaustion made him hard to threaten. “Whatever. Just wrap your arms around my neck, I’ll swim us both home,” Raph grunted, and Mikey thankfully did as he was told.

It took a frustratingly long time to get back to the lair– so long that Mikey had already fallen back asleep by the time Raph recognized his surroundings. It made him nervous, but Raph wasn't going to crack now that he was so close.

“Alright, Mikey, just under here real quick,” Raph glanced at the wall that mostly separated their lair from the sewer system before dunking his brother under and quickly pulling him up on the other side with minimal bonking.

“We made it, Mikey! C’mon– we gotta tell Leo and Donnie so we can–” Raph looked up and found Splinter standing right at the edge of the pool, with Leo and Donnie standing nervously behind him.

“H-hi dad,” Raph looked down at his murky reflection.

“Raphael, I specifically told you–” Splinter was about to reprimand, but his eyes landed on Mikey and worry immediately overrode his anger.

“Bring him over,” Splinter ordered Raph, and of course he obeyed. He watched as Splinter took his youngest brother in his arms and set him down on the couch, placing an ear on his chest.

“His heart is slow. Raphael, what happened? Was there a fight? Was he injured at all?” His father asked. Raph shook his head, getting out of the water and joining Leo and Donnie as spectators.

Splinter frowned, placing a hand on Mikey’s forehead and flinching. “Donatello, warm up a heat pack from your lab.”

“Hai, sensei,” Donnie said, and he was gone in a flash.

Leo looked at Donnie for only a moment before his eyes went right back to Mikey. “Is he gonna be okay, dad?”

Splinter nodded slowly. “He should be okay, he’s just a little cold, is all.”

“Oh! I can get him his blanket!” Leo immediately offered.

“Good idea, Leonardo,” Splinter approved, and before he knew it, Leo was gone too, leaving Raph alone with his dad.

Raph’s heart was pounding in his chest, as he was pretty sure Splinter knew just as well as he did this was all his fault, and he wondered what kind of grounding he’d get this time.

His anxiety certainly wasn’t helped when Splinter suddenly asked, “How did this happen, Raphael?”

Raph gulped. “I found ‘im by a stormwater drain, asleep. I think he was watching the snow or something and just kinda passed out, so...”

“I see,” his father replied, stroking Mikey’s head and taking off his soaked orange mask. “I should have known he would have gone to the water; he’s always been so afraid of subway cars,” he laughed a little sadly.

“It’s not your fault, dad, it’s–” Raph frowned as Leo ran in with the blanket.

“Found it, Master Splinter!” Leo called before handing it to their father all nice and folded.

“Thank you, Leonardo,” Splinter nodded in approval before unfolding it and draping it on the still-napping Mikey.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Leo asked in that eager way he always did.

“No, we do not want to overwhelm him or his body. We just want enough to wake him up at his own pace,” Splinter explained, and Leo nodded, taking a step back to join Raph.

A moment after that, Donnie emerged too with the practically steaming bag of dry rice, which Splinter thanked him too before placing it on his forehead.

“There. That should do it for now,” Splinter nodded to himself, stroking Mikey’s left arm a bit before finally allowing himself to sit on the couch next to him.

Nobody said anything for a while, most everyone’s eyes focused on Mikey except Raph, who kept watching his father. He was waiting to receive his scolding for running away and almost getting Mikey knocked out for months. However, the more he stared, the more it seemed like it wasn't going to happen, and after a couple minutes, Raph couldn’t take it anymore.

“Master Splinter, I’m real sorry I ran away, but I knew it was all my fault– I mean, you know how much I hurt him and his arm– so it was totally my fault! I had to make it right, and I knew that if I didn’t find him, you would, so I figured it really wouldn’t hurt! Plus, you told me I needed to apologize to him as soon as possible, so technically I wasn’t really disobeying you– but I know I really was, and–”

“Raphael,” Splinter cut off his rambles with a soft look. “I am not mad at you. If anything, I am relieved you found him because if it were not for you, I do not think his condition would be fixed so easily.”

“You don’t… know that, though,” Raph kicked the ground.

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Of course he knows that. Hibernation takes several hours to fully take hold in a turtle, and if Master Splinter had spent all night looking for Mikey he would have certainly been too late and Mikey would spend the next several months practically asleep.”

“Donnie!” Leo punched his arm.

“What? It’s just science!” Donnie defended his rather blunt word choice.

“It’s alright, Leonardo, Donatello is correct,” Their father assured, looking again at Raph. “What you did was very risky, and not something I want to become a habit… but you did very well, Raphael.”

“Not really, Master Splinter. When we ran into a ton of cockroaches, I totally freaked out and dropped Mikey into the water,” Raph confessed and Donnie laughed a little, getting him a quick glare that shut him right up.

“Ahh, but don’t you see? When faced between your fears or bringing your brother to safety, you chose very bravely,” Splinter placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder.

“Thank you, sensei,” Raph bowed and Splinter chuckled and stroked the top of his head a little.

Right then there was a little cough, followed by a groan, followed by a– “Raph? Papa? What’s goin’ on?” from Mikey.

“You are back home, my son,” Splinter quickly turned his attention to his youngest, holding his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired n’ warm,” Mikey yawned.

Splinter smiled a little. “Of course. It is rather late, after all, so the four of you should go to bed.”

“Aww man, but I just slept a bunch,” Mikey whined.

“You need to gather your strength, my son. Do not worry, I will carry you to bed this one time,” Splinter teased Mikey a little since he was always asking to be carried. It seemed to work since Mikey immediately stopped protesting, and he was whisked away.

“You had Master Splinter really worried, you know,” Leo spoke up.

Raph rolled his eyes. “You heard him, I did something right for once.”

“You know what I mean, Raph. If you wanted to find him yourself, you should’ve at least tried to tell him before you left,” Leo crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you ever get lost in the sewers, I won’t come looking for you,” Raph pushed Leo away and headed to his room, hearing Leo sigh dramatically and choosing to ignore it as the door slammed closed behind him.

His broken action figure was still on his bed, but instead of angering Raph, it just made him feel… disappointed. Sure, it was partly due to the fact he had been so excited about it just earlier today, but now it was more like he was disappointed how angry he’d gotten. It was just some cheap plastic with a broken voice box, after all. It wasn’t worth making Mikey run away and almost freeze himself into hibernation.

Besides, he’d definitely still play with it. Sure, he would now be missing an arm, but most everyone’s toys were broken in some capacity, so maybe now the other toys wouldn’t get jealous. Not that toys could get jealous, but– whatever. Raph was exhausted.

And so, Raph set his newly broken Aspara-Gus up on the shelf, alongside his much older broken red car, and flopped onto his bed to try and think about sleep.

.o0o.

Mikey was as snug as a bug in a rug after his father tucked him nice and tight into his bed, making him feel like the specialist and also the stupidest kid in the whole world.

“Papa… I’m sorry I ran away. I wasn’t thinkin’, which I know I do a lot,” he looked away as Splinter checked his temperature with a thermometer.

“Don’t worry, Michelangelo, I am just grateful you are alright,” Splinter smiled kinda sadly.

“Still… I didn’t wanna scare you, I just– I always mess up, a-and I really don’t mean to! I try to stop, I really do, Papa, but I just can’t,” Mikey confessed, face red with shame.

The thermometer beeped, but Splinter didn’t even look at it before setting it aside and removing the heat pack from his forehead.

“You are a good son and brother, Michelangelo. Your weaknesses do not erasure your kind smile or your cuddly disposition or your humor. We are all very grateful you are a part of this family, and everyone– including Raphael– missed you terribly in your absence,” Splinter stroked Mikey’s cheek with his thumb.

“I know, but I still break things and don’t listen and stuff, which is still bad of me,” Mikey looked away.

“But that does not make you bad, Michelangelo,” Splinter said with certainty. “Everyone in this sewer has flaws– even myself.”

“Even you?” Mikey gawked.

Splinter chuckled and nodded. “I am not always the most rational mind and can be swift to punishment, but that does not mean I am cruel and unjust. It just means I have something to be aware of and work on.”

“Oooh… cool,” Mikey smiled a little at the thought of him and his papa having something in common.

Splinter laughed more. “It is getting late, my son. Be sure to rest up.”

The rat was going to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand. “Do you have to goooooooooo?” He asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Splinter hummed happily and kissed his son’s head. “Maybe tomorrow night. I suspect someone else will want to talk to you tonight.”

“Who?” Mikey tilted his head.

“You’ll see,” Splinter patted his shoulder before turning out his light, causing Mikey’s glow-in-the-dark stars to shine. “Sweet dreams, Michelangelo.”

“G’night Papa!” Mikey gave a wide grin before Splinter nodded and closed the door.

Man, Mikey really was tired. But also not. He certainly wasn’t as tired as he’d felt by the stormwater drain, but all that swimming and walking and being all toasty definitely was doing a number on him.

However, before he could decide if he wanted to fall asleep or not, there was a knock at his door.

“Uh… come in?” Mikey said, unsure of who it could be, and startled when he saw it was Raph.

“Hi…” His older brother looked at the ground before he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

There was an awkward moment whether neither brother really knew what to say or how to say it. Instead, they both just looked around Mikey's disaster of a room, avoiding eye contact.

After a bit of this, Raph decided to break the silence with a, “I’m sorry I made you run away, Mikey. And for calling you a screw-up, and useless, and a punk, and a stupid, dumb idiot.”

Mikey laughed a little. “It’s okay, Raph. I already know I am.”

“No! You’re not useless! I said that just because I was mad,” Raph sat on Mikey’s bed urgently. “You’re like– the funniest brother and you give good hugs, which is nice when you want ‘em. That's totally useful!”

Mikey looked away. “You don’t gotta say that to me, Raph. I know I’m the weakest and the least patient and most distracted or whatever, I just gotta deal with it.”

“You know I’d save you if you ran away again, right? And that I– I don’t mean to always hurt you, right?” Raph asked, nervously picking at his nails.

“Aww, you big softie,” Mikey teased a little, and Raph rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah– I’m apologizing here, so do you wanna accept it or not?” He scoffed.

“I’m sorry I broke your toy, Raph. It started making this really loud noise and I panicked,” Mikey explained himself first.

Raph scoffed a bit. “Figures something had to be wrong with it… but still, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“I shouldn’t’ve broken your toy and run away, so I accept your apology,” Mikey gave his brother a crooked smile. “You accept mine?”

Raph laughed a little. “Yeah, you big baby,” he punched his brother’s arm a little, making Mikey laugh.

“Thanks for saving my life too, by the way. I could kinda hear you and I know it was pretty scary, so… yeah, thanks. You aren’t as angry as you think you are,” Mikey placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Raph seemed a little shook by this, but he eventually just chuckled and shook his head. “Wasn’t a hard decision. Without you, this place is a total dump.”

“Still. Thanks,” Mikey tried to get through his thick skull.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Raph tried to keep playing it off, shaking Mikey’s arm off of him. Raph started to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand on impulse.

“Uh… yeah?” Raph looked at him confused, and Mikey cursed himself a bit.

“Sorry–! I just– um…” Mikey let go and started fidgeting with his blanket. “I was just wondering if you’d wanna– you know… sleepover?”

His elder brother paused, clearly debating it, making Mikey instantly feel bad.

“You don’t have to, though! It was a stupid idea, I mean– we aren’t five anymore, so you can say n–”

“Sure, why not?” Raph shrugged all nonchalantly, and Mikey felt relief flood his body.

“Cool!” Mikey beamed, scooting aside to make room for his older brother, whom he immediately cuddled against the moment he was settled.

“Jeez, Mikey– you ever heard of personal space?” Raph quipped, but Mikey knew he didn’t mean it. If he had, he would’ve pushed him away or moved off the bed.

But nope, Raph stayed right next to Mikey for the entire night, and Mikey wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt 2012 splinter #2012 michelangelo #2012 raphael #tmnt splinter #my fics #damn there are so many ways to tag this fjdksalf;jads #family fluff #mikey angst #good parent splinter #raph has anger issues but tries his best and is a good brother dammit #mikey is a goober who messes up and that's okay #uhhhhhhhhh #yeah lol enjoy :P

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thrawns-babygirl · 2 years ago

Text

Every Time (Crosshair x GN!Reader) Drabble

Wanted to practice writing some gn smut. I don't think that this leans too far in either direction but let me know. Also im feeling somewhat emotional today so i wanted to channel that into something a little different than what i usually write. hope yall enjoy.

also i cant watch the new episode yet so I'm killing time by writing drabbles lmao

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected sex Word Count: 600+

Every time he was on Coruscant he found his way back to you.

And every time without fail you let him.

‘This is just a one-time thing’ turned into ‘just one more time’ every time the two of you were on the same planet. And honestly? You were fine with it. No one had ever seemed to learn your body the way that Crosshair did. No one seemed to know how to push your buttons quite like he did. No one had you coming back for more every time the way he did.

You found yourself out near the GAR barracks on the way home from work when you saw him, mingling with the rest of his squad. You missed the way the one with the long hair and bandanna motioned over to you while they were talking, missed the way the tall clone excused himself from the conversation quickly, all you noticed was the way he wordlessly fell into step beside you, still fully armoured up, long rifle slung over his back. Walking in companionable silence back towards your apartment, the promise of a long night ahead of both of you.

You both know that you could send him away at any point and he would leave. You could fire his words right back at him about how it was only a one time thing and he would return to his squad without a word, ending whatever it is the two of you have going on.

You both know you won’t.

That was how you found yourself in your current position, lying naked on your back on top of the plush couch in your living room, city lights of coruscant pouring through the windows bouncing off the scarred planes of his chest as his hips collided with yours in a desperate frenzy. His long arms planted either side of your head, his brows knitted together as he slammed his length in and out of you.

Your whimpers and moans of his name spur him on, grounding him in the here and now as he uses your body for his own pleasure, the two of you locked in a passionate back and forth that neither of you want to end.

“Cross- You feel so good… Kriff don’t stop” you moan out as the tip of his cock hits that spot inside you with every thrust, making stars burst behind your eyes and pleasure snake its way down your spine.

He groans out your name as he chases his peak, thrusts beginning to stutter and lose their rhythm as the feeling of your tight heat overwhelms him, consuming every nerve in his body as he chases the high he’s after every time he sees you, every time he claims you.

You reach a down to play with yourself as Crosshair loses himself in the feeling of your body. Your hand, combined with the delicious drag of his cock in and out of you has you falling over the edge.

The coil that’s been building all night snapping as pleasure floods every nerve in your body. Your face contorts in pleasure as you scream soundlessly, muscles tightening and releasing tension you didn’t even know you were carrying.

Collapsing onto his elbows, Crosshair buries his head in your neck as he moans your name and spills inside of you, thrusting a few more times before extracting himself from you and pulling you to his side, staring up at the ceiling of your lavish apartment before placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You feel him move, ready to make a hasty exit as he always does after one of your carnal encounters, causing a strange feeling of panic to embed itself in the pit of your stomach. You grab onto his arm and make an impulsive and possibly stupid decision.

“stay…” your voice is small, as if the single syllable is enough to scare the sniper away from you.

He simply nods and curls up against your side on the couch, long arm slung over your body, eyes fixed on the Coruscant traffic on the other side of the window as you card your hand through his hair.

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker@crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@allthebestscreennamesaregone63

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair smut #bad batch crosshair smut #bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader smut #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb smut #bad batch smut #the bad batch smut #tbb x reader

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jacobbyart · 2 years ago

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title: after-parties ship: steve harrington/eddie munson tags: first kiss, fluff and mild angst, shotgunning, pre-relationship words: 2,275 steddie week: day three: first kiss summary: a note from steve was all it took. eddie was never going to be the same again.

notes: this is a scrapped chapter for hand-me-downs and other heirlooms! coincidentally, i also finished editing this in time for @steddie-week (plus the prompt and the story match)! : ) enjoy!

READ ON AO3

Steve Harrington was majestic under the blinding gym lights. Showered with screams and cheers, he had his fists in the air and a grin that rivaled the stars. A horn blared, then a long whistle. The game ended with a final three-point shot from the man himself and the crowd went wild. It was all Hawkins needed to win the game and win they did.

His teammates, the cheerleaders, the somebodies on the bleachers ran to him, surrounding him with their praises. A pair of players lifted him on their shoulders and paraded him around. The masses wiped their grubby fingers on whatever Harrington skin they could reach as if he was some sort of saint with miracle sweat.

The trophy now in his hands, Steve waved it proudly. He mouthed a thank you to everyone, anyone he could spot. For a moment, the King was back with his large eyes and his perfect hair, and his pretty smile.

Then, their gazes met.

Steve’s smile dropped.

Eddie pulled his cap down.

Shame came first. Moving the next session with Hellfire had been met with disappointed groans and a lot of questions, ones Eddie couldn’t answer. Unless he wanted to be cast out by his own group of outcasts, he was keeping his mouth shut.

Panic came next. That, Eddie was better equipped to handle. He had stuck close to the exit the entire game, making his escape quick.

The night air was cold, but Eddie felt hot under all his layers. A few students littered the outside of the gym, earning him a couple of glances, but they ultimately paid him no mind.

He knew it was a stupid idea, heading into the thick of it. Curiosity couldn't even begin to explain Eddie's inner turmoil and going back to when it all began would be futile. Eddie himself was unsure when his stupid crush on the King began. All he could remember was being a kid and finding those large brown eyes.

It was difficult to rid his brain of Steve after.

Eddie huffed as he finally reached his van parked behind a few trees on the outskirts of Hawkins High. It wasn't his usual spot. He hardly did deals so near the school anyway, but this was an exception, among the many others, for the night. He opened the back doors of the van and lit a cigarette as he sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the vehicle.

The loud cheering was now muffled by the distance but Eddie could still make out Steve's name. A part of him wanted to drive away, to forget that this night ever happened, that that note ever reached his locker in the first place. Steve was never meant to interact with him outside of sneers, backhanded compliments, and asshole middlemen.

Heat and smoke filled his lungs. He raised the stick in the air. "To the Hawkins Basketball Team. May you all rot in hell."

He really was pathetic.

One cigarette turned to two turned to three. Eventually, silence, save for the chirping of crickets and the wind passing by. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could easily imagine himself back home, his guitar close by and Uncle Wayne getting ready to head out for work. He would reach out for his guitar, claim that the silence was too deafening, and practice his chords and riffs till his fingers hurt.

On his fourth stick, unlit and hanging low on his lips, a figure emerged. "Didn't think you'd show up," came its voice.

Eddie wasn't prepared for the honey on his tongue. "Harrington." He turned to Steve's direction and found him in his letterman and training shorts, shorter than the ones he had worn while he played. Eddie had to look away. "How much're you buying?"

"How much you got on you?"

Eddie clicked his tongue. "Must be a big party." He rummaged through his lunchbox and handed Steve all of his stash. "That'll be twenty."

Steve hummed. He reached for his wallet and handed Eddie the bill.

"Tommy too busy to do your bidding?"

Steve laughed. "I haven't talked to Tommy in weeks." He got into Eddie's van, mimicking Eddie’s position but keeping close to the opposite wall. "And no, this isn't for a party."

Eddie couldn't do much but nod. He went back to his cigarette and lit it.

"Got more of those?" Steve asked. The weed was already safely tucked away in his bag.

"It's some cheap brand." Eddie tossed him the pack anyway.

Steve merely shook his head as he placed a stick between his lips.

"Light?" Eddie asked, holding out a Zippo.

Uncertainty overtook Steve. His hand hovered over the lighter, cautious, but pushed it back down to Eddie’s lap. Instead, he leaned closer to Eddie, motioned for him to do the same with a curling of his index finger. Eddie complied easily, entranced. Then, Steve pushed his cigarette toward Eddie's and breathed the heat in.

"You okay?" Steve asked, still so dangerously close. His eyes were big and brown and bright, reflecting the orange glow of the cigarette embers.

Eddie nodded. He could smell the expensive cologne on Steve and a bit of his lemony soap. He never took him as a citrus sort of guy.

"Thanks," Steve murmured as they separated. He blew smoke into Eddie's face before he could lean back far enough away.

"Rude," Eddie said as he tried to inhale it all.

"You liked it."

Eddie's heart beat in his ears. "Bold assumption." The words left an odd taste in his mouth.

"Maybe."

Eddie waited for Steve to move. To up and leave him smoking on his own, but Steve never did. If anything, he sank deeper into the interior of the back of Eddie’s van with every puff. He lifted his legs and folded them in front of him. The tip of his shoe touched Eddie’s boot.

“You look different,” Steve said.

Eddie took the hat off and pulled at his hoodie. The material was soft and dark blue. Worn out in some places, but it kept Eddie warm. Warmer than needed now, though Eddie wouldn’t pin that on the hoodie. “My pa’s,” he said. “Thought I shouldn’t stick out too much tonight.”

“Why’s that?”

“Wasn’t sure if I should head inside or not.” Eddie faked nonchalance. He willed his hand to stop shaking.

“Wanted to come see me play?”

A twist in Eddie’s stomach. “In your dreams, Harrington. I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

“The note said after the basketball game.”

“And I’m supposed to know when that is?”

“Guess not.” Steve chuckled. He reached for the makeshift ashtray by Eddie’s side and discarded the last of his cigarette.

Eddie did the same, his own cigarette burned to a shorter stub. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”

“And miss out on all this fun?”

“Asshole.” There was no bite to the word. Eddie pulled on his hoodie again, letting the evening breeze pass through the collar. When that didn’t do much to appease the heat bubbling under his skin, he took the hoodie off.

“Hellfire,” Steve read on Eddie’s exposed shirt. It was from a pile of discarded prototypes for their club’s new uniform. The design hadn’t been approved by the school. Too perverse, they had said. Not perverse enough, Eddie had wanted to reply. “That’s the Demons and Dragons thing, right?”

“Dungeons and Dragons. You know about D&D?”

“Sorta. I got a few friends who want to join.”

If Eddie showed any signs of being dumbfounded, Steve didn’t mention it. Friends of Harrington liked D&D. What was the world turning into? Could that have been the beginning of his fall from grace? Eddie could imagine it, the King succumbing to the flames of roleplaying games. “Kinda late for that now,” he said. “School’s almost out.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “They’ll be freshmen next year.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open. “Nerds and kids?” He laughed, half bitterly, half amusedly. Nerdy kids got Steve’s approval before him. Him, Eddie Munson, the nerdy kid of all nerdy kids in all of high school. So nerdy, in fact, that he was cast into the underbellies of its society. “What the hell happened to you?”

The smile on Steve’s lips was fond. “One of them is Nancy’s brother if that explains anything.”

And it did. Wheeler’s hand in this explained so much but it also churned Eddie’s stomach. “You still into her?” he asked instead.

Steve sucked in a breath. “Nah,” he replied. He shifted himself, making the van bounce, then eyed the pack of cigarettes on the floor. “But Nancy’s Nancy, you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Jealous?”

“So what if I am?”

Steve laughed, magical, beautiful.

Eddie couldn’t help but reach for the pack and light another stick. It was the last one for the night, Eddie promised himself, though the way his evening was going, he wasn’t sure if that promise was going to last. A poke to his foot almost made him drop his lighter, his heart beating faster and louder than ever. “Want one?” he asked—no, stammered at Steve.

Steve shook his head but his gaze stayed on the stick. “I’ve been trying to quit.”

“Wheeler put you up to that?”

“What if she did?” A challenge in Steve’s voice.

The jealousy in his stomach would simply grow, but Eddie couldn’t admit that out loud. He could hardly admit it to himself. Memories of Steve and Nancy in the school corridors flooded Eddie’s mind. He had watched them from afar, always from afar, holding hands and kissing and being in love, and his heart would squeeze itself at the sight. When he heard they had broken up, the giddy feeling trumped the guilt he felt for it. And then…

But then, Steve was never the same again.

“Jealous, I tell you,” Steve added. Another pass at the cigarette.

“Nancy’s cute, Steve, but she’s not really my type,” Eddie tried.

“And what is your type?”

“Someone more metal than whatever Wheeler has going on.” Eddie choked on the smoke in his throat. “Someone different. Exciting.”

“Someone, someone, someone.” Steve inched closer. “Gimme something specific.”

“Volunteering to be my wingman?”

“Something like that.”

Eddie pushed himself back, the metal of his car poking into his skin. “Someone…” He was running out of breath.

“Someone daring? Someone…carefree?” Steve was close now. His eyes locked into Eddie’s and he wasn’t looking away. “Someone with brown hair? Brown eyes? Someone good at basketball?” Then, he paused. He sighed, straight into the gap between Eddie’s lips. “Someone who used to be someone,” he murmured slowly, quietly, as if Eddie wasn’t meant to hear.

“You keep staring at my cig,” Eddie said.

“I keep staring at your lips.”

“You know what shotgunning is?”

Steve squinted. “I don’t. I’m gonna need you to show me.”

It was easy, then it wasn’t. Eddie placed a careful hand on Steve’s cheek, gentle, gentler than he should be, and blew the smoke into his open mouth. He forced himself to keep some distance between them, didn’t push where Steve was uncomfortable.

Only, a pair of lips sealed his own shut, and the rest of the smoke escaped through his nose. Eddie went rigid, then he went limp as Steve ran his fingers through his hair and climbed onto his lap. The way Steve kissed was soft; pecks that lingered a bit too long and tongue grazing but not overbearing. Eddie’s fingers tingled as he caressed Steve’s neck.

Seconds turned to minutes. Eddie almost burned himself with his forgotten cigarette but he didn’t let it faze him. It certainly didn’t faze Steve. He was plastered onto Eddie as if it was the reputation he had built for himself. The King kissing the Freak. What a sight!

In the end, it was Eddie who had to push Steve away, Steve’s letterman still in his fists. He searched for any regret on Steve’s face, but he could barely find surprise in those brown eyes.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Eddie let go then. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Steve?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.” Eddie rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. Steve immediately placed a kiss on his temple. “This is fucked up. You’re fucked up.”

“There were rumors about you,” Steve said.

“So you kissed me to find out if it was true?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to.” Steve pushed Eddie back and cradled his face in his hands. “I wanted to know what it was like.”

“To kiss me?”

“To kiss boys.”

“Ah.” Pathetic, ridiculous Eddie. “You’re an asshole, Harrington.”

“So I’ve been told.” Steve leaned in again, capturing Eddie’s lips, and Eddie let him.

Because who was Eddie to deny Steve that? Who was he to deny himself that? He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Can you do me a favor?” Steve asked as they separated for air. He unzipped his jacket while Eddie kept him in place with hands on his hips. “Keep this.” He placed the jacket over Eddie’s shoulders.

“Why?”

“I don’t know just yet.” Steve got off Eddie’s lap. Eddie already missed the touch. “But I think I’m going to find out.”

“You can—”

Steve took hold of Eddie’s hand before he could reach his hoodie. “That’s not you,” he said. “I don’t want what isn’t you.”

Eddie blinked. “Next time then.”

“Bold assumption.” But Steve was smiling.

“Come find me, okay?” Eddie kissed Steve one final time. “You better come find me, Harrington.”

#steddie week #steddie week 2023 #steddieweek2023 #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #jcby: fic

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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 prompt 25: Perpetuity

Husband likes to not say things. It is not that he wants to keep secrets from me (I think), and it is not that he is shy with me (I think). What he told me when I once made him tell me was that he does not want to affect reality. He is afraid that saying something is impossible or does not exist or cannot be done or does not work here as it did in Eorzea might make that true, partly because of what he thinks is possible, and partly because of what I think is possible. He does not want me to think of anything as impossible…he wants me to simply do things, and show him they are possible, and then he knows he can do them too.

I partly understand this. I have met Sharlayans who have talked about how aether can be changed by will, and will is based on belief. But I also understand how to use google and wikipedia and ck12.org, which means him not telling me something only slows me down. And sometimes annoys me.

Last night we were camping at the edge of an area called the Ozarks. We were sitting by our small fire. We had had some cider. We could simply have leaned against one another until one or both of us fell asleep, but I found myself thinking of Earth, and then of Hydaelyn, and then of the Mothercrystal.

"Does Earth have a mother goddess, Husband?"

"Some say yes, and her name is Gaia. Some would direct you to God. Most people would lump it under religion…I am not aware of people with actual practical experience in the matter, though there's lots of people who might claim they do." He toyed with my hair. "What brought this up?"

"I sometimes think about the struggle between light and darkness in Eorzea, and wonder if it exists here."

"Again, most people would call that religion, or think of it metaphorically. I myself am not aware of an actual active war, no."

"So there is no reason to think the world could be destroyed, correct?"

His fingers stopped. He fell silent.

"Husband?"

"...I mean, maybe not in the sense that you mean, but…"

"What?"

"...You know how there's things I'm not sure I want to tell you because it might color your thinking?"

"Yes. Do you know how much I dislike being kept in a box?"

"...Yeah. Okay." I gave him a moment to find the words he wanted to use. Then he said, "Scientists say the sun is like a really big campfire."

I did not expect this. I looked at the fire in front of us. "Campfire?"

"Yeah. A small campfire, contained properly, not a lot of fuel, will just run out of fuel and burn out after a while. Make a campfire too big, though, and it can grow, get past the place you put it, catch other things on fire, and consume everything around it."

"And the sun is a…very big campfire?"

"Last estimate I heard was that in about five billion years the sun will get bigger, consume the planets around it, and then start to burn out."

"The planets around it include Earth?"

"Yeah."

"So it is not that the world can be destroyed…it is that it will be destroyed?"

"Right."

"Five…billion years is a long time. I cannot even think of how long that is. Surely in all that time people will find a way to…perhaps move to another star?"

"Probably, yeah. Though the other stars are campfires too. Some burn faster, some burn slower, some explode…but they all eventually burn out."

I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him. "What will be left if all the stars burn out?"

"I don't think anyone knows."

"Do scientists think anything lasts forever?"

"I'm not aware of anyone who's been around long enough to answer that."

I thought about this. I looked at our campfire. I looked at the other campfires in the sky. None of them seemed to be exploding or burning out right then.

"Why did you not want to tell me this?"

He sighed and let his gaze fall to the ground. "This'll sound stupid…"

"Entertain me, please."

"...I heard about all this when I was a kid. Lecture at a planetarium. Great visual effect of the sun getting all big and red. It was the first time I really thought about impermanence and stuff. The sun could die, the planet could die, all the people could die…" His eyes closed. "...I could die."

I watched his face.

"The people there tried to make me feel better, saying stuff like, 'Oh, it's okay, it's way far in the future, we'll be long gone before it happens.'" A strange smile appeared on his face. "Somehow that didn't help."

I tried to fit this into his usual pattern. I tried to understand what he did not want me to think was impossible. "Did you think not telling me the world will end would mean I might think I would live forever?"

"We never died in Eorzea."

"We died many times in Eorzea. We simply never went to the aetherial sea."

I returned my head to his shoulder and slowly stroked his back. "Five billion years…so we are probably fine tonight?"

He snorted softly. "Yeah, probably."

"Perhaps even tomorrow night."

"We'll see how tomorrow goes."

(Based on Echoes of Home, hosted on Wattpad.)

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv echoes of home

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ye-olde-sodor · 2 years ago

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“Once an engine attached to a train…”

It’s the walking controversy himself! Is he a Gresley or a Stanier engine? Why is he so inconsistent with the different series and illustrations? Are there two of them? Who knows!

Lore Time!

-The sudden "disappearance" of both Thomas AND Edward has put the island on edge, and now that Sir Topham Hatt's family and Gordon are away on the Mainland (and with a certain temporary conductor on the way), who knows what'll happen next!

-Henry's driver (who had visited Thomas and Edward the previous day), was debating if he should tell the other engines at Tidmouth about the situation or not as he climbed into Henry's cab for the day.

-He didn't have long to ponder the question, as by the end of the day Henry had fallen ill. He was placed in the sheds for the night, while James and Percy grew even more concirned.

-Henry hadn't fallen this ill since his rebuild, and the paranoid trucks started to theorize about it as the days went on. They eventually came to the conclusion that a disease was behind everything, and that Thomas and Edward were taken to Crewe to be studied on.

-This, of course, offended the other engines greatly. "Engines don't get sick! At least not in the way that humans do!" So they ignored the trucks and their warnings, with the more aggressive engines pushing them about the yards whenever they mentioned the conspiracy theory. (Looking at a certain Little Western member).

-After a week or so, Henry was wheeled to the works by Derek (who "disappeared" shortly thereafter). Thomas' driver, Keith, went to visit Henry to keep an eye on him, (And to see if he turns human as well).

-Sure enough, Henry wakes up one morning with arms and legs! Victor, now fully aware of what's going on, let's Keith take him to the Workers Dorms.

-As he's helping Henry on his feet, he notices some marks on his neck. When he pulls Henry's shirt down (not pictured here), he notices strange, almost stitch like scars around his neck. Of course, this freaks the both of them out, and they remain silent about it on the car ride to the Dorms. (An engine in a car, how absurd)

-When Keith and Henry walk in through the door (after 3 hours of teaching Henry how to walk up the stairs), they accidentally walk in on an argument with Edward and Thomas. Thomas was convinced that the trucks are right, but Edward argued that it didn't make sense. To which, Thomas argued that nothing about this situation makes sense. As the two went on and on, they failed to notice poor Henry in the door.

-And once they did finally notice him, he was practically tackled into a massive three-person hug (Keith nearly dodged the tackle).

Headcanons!

-No one knows who build him, but it sure as hell wasn't any of Sir Nigel Gresley's men or his factories. Since neither Gresley or any of his engines claimed Henry as a Gresley, he was simply seen as an orphan that was left at Topham's doorstep.

-Stanier didn't "claim" him until after his rebuild at Crewe, a rebuild of which he oversaw himself. Ever since then, he's been adopted into the Stanier line of engines (who absolutely adore their new brother).

-For SS in particular, he's a big fast-food junkie. He's been blessed with a lack of actual organs and a need to properly diet, so he can eat just about anything and not suffer any of the consequences that humans would.

-Having said this, he does enjoy working out often (even if he doesn't gain or lose anything from it, again from the results of no organs). It reminds him of pulling the kipper.

-He's a huge cuddle bug. If you plan on giving him a hug, be prepared to be trapped in an eternal hug (or for a few hours, either or).

-This one is exclusive to the SS au! He's got some markings from his rebuild at Crewe! I'll post a reference picture once it's ready lol.

-It's a little hard to see, but he has slanted pupils! Idk why, but they looked nice on him! It also means that they get larger when he's about to do something stupid or about to leap/jump.

-Like Edward, he quickly hooked up with Bear a few years after they met. While a little rockier than Edward and Boco's relationship, the two always come out on top. (Poor Gordon is going to have a stroke when he finds out about it lmao).

-Henry and Bear aren't as open as Eddie and Boco, and they thought it would be a good idea to keep it secret. While Sodor was ahead of the times, they were still hesitant to come out about the relationship. It won't be until a few months after Bear's transformation that they decide to announce it. (I'll be writing a fic about this at some point btw).

#ttte SS au #ttte humanisation #ttte henry #idk why Henry is so pale here #he's supposed to be a lot darker but it might be due to the computer lighting on my end but idk #idk how to fix it-#tw smoking #again #The cigarette itself doesn't have any lore significance but I just wanted to play with the smoke effects #tw drugs #ig?#Henry x Bear #ttte Henry x Bear

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theherdofturtles · 2 years ago

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Fandom: Hetalia Prompt: Kidnapped Rating: G Word Count: 2532 Decided to make a thing that could fit into When Men Weren't Present between chapters 1 & 2 but isn't plot important. I tried to make this fic complimentary to On Pol and the Eng also just for fun. England gets mixed up in Fae shenanigans. @badthingshappenbingo

In a turn of events England should've seen, England got picked up from the earth in the arms of his brother in the aftermath of their first victory against the Norman foes.

Alba had yanked him up from the earth and immediately went to work dropping his fresh-won ego into the dirt. England kicked and squirmed until letting loose, giving up. The hug forced on him was inescapable.

The words, though, he was determined to offset. Alba accused him of the most offensive shortcomings with his smile and stupid tease.

"Wha- no!" England said, offended, "I can use magic just fine!"

"Kinye?" Alba challenged him. "I don't think you ken a simple pixie summoning spell since thu a' gabhail Éire's fancy new religion."

"Yes I do! I can prove it! I could do one here and now!"

Alba tilted his head in mock thought, pretending to think hard about his claim. England impatiently wriggled. He knew his brother would let up and make him try for his own entertainment--and England would show him wrong!

"Ye'll try?" Alba finally said.

"I will!"

Alba let him drop back to his feet and England popped back up like a daisy.

"Here, Cymru, our wee brother's gaun to put on a show for us!" He shouted and waved over another pair of eyes to add to England's pressure. Several humans looked up from their business looting fallen men, but dropped their interest once they realised it concerned the oddest of them.

His other sibling came wandering, and he came wandering while still wearing the blood of their enemies on his clothes. England wrinkled his nose with distaste. Cymru was still Druid... fully, as the past had decreed it. No other brother prayed to the earth anymore as Éire had brought a new faith to their land, and as eldest, led them alongside him. Cymru held out. Alba skirt the edges. It showed how Cymru refused to scrub his clothes, and blood was sacred, life, it was to be respected. A black, dried smear of gore was left stained on his brother's sleeves even though the rest of his armor and cloths and all his fellows had scrubbed themselves clean. 'The battle isn't over, William is on his way,' Cymru had said right after they won. It was a 'trophy and a promise for the next batch.' Alba conceded that it was profane. England agreed, because England wanted to bask in the feeling of having won without thinking about the next battle.

"A show? What's he going to do in his show?" Cymru immediately picked up on Alba's game, albeit with a lighter laugh and encouraging tone.

It almost annoyed him, but he knew he'd prove to them how well-practiced he'd became. He'd lived alone for a while after the Romans and Danes, he'd had much time to sharpen his magic on his own.

"He's gaun to summon some fairy."

"I hope he remembers what they look like? He never goes with me to Calan Mai celebrations anymore," Cymru said.

"Of course I recall them!" England had seen many and they knew it!

"Aye but you've never been to the Otherworld."

His brothers grinned. England stiffened.

Deus vous guarde. Fireplaces that hissed and sparked like fireflies, red pelted fangs with glittering stag-eyes, deep, cold, wormed earth.

Some intuition stopped him from claiming his adventures had, indeed, brought him to the Otherworld.

Fireglow, damp soil and the grin of fangs, deep Otherworld, stumbling through a mushroom ring further than he had ever intended. The mist gates he had missed... England hadn't entered the way he ought to have entered. Snared in Fae traps.

Memory of that fae lord came sneaking back into his mind.

That Fox... England had his weaved gift safely looped onto a thick cord of a necklace.

He'd nearly forgotten.

His fingers subconsciously reached to his waist-pouch where he believed he'd put the coarse cord...

"Sasann?"

His reverie broke.

"It's England," he complained. He'd worked hard for the name, his brothers still refused it.

"Oh? And you haven't any second thoughts about showing us how rusty your magic's gotten?" Came the immediate tease.

"No! I was just thinking to myself!"

England took his stick of a wand from his cloak. No brother ever went anywhere without mum's last gift, a piece of her fading magic which had rested in her people's sacred yew tree, cut neatly into a concise point. Never a mother ever died who had a family.

Bracing himself, he angled his foot forward, raised his wand-hand back, and pulled his own magic to curl warmly along the wand.

A pixie summoning spell took barely any focus at all.

He almost paid too little attention-- it flicked with a whizz-zip and a little dust-like gold-snow shooting from the star of the end.

It hit the dirt in a snuffed plume of smoke.

Visually, the display hadn't been pretty or controlled by any means, but luckily that didn't negate the workings of magic. England felt something had changed. There was a heavier static in the air.

"Hahah! Ah, that daedna go a snip!" Scotland bellowed. Cymru merely shook his head with a small smile.

His brows furrowed.

Laughter?

But... the air--he felt it, it was magic full, he'd summoned something? Surely? A fae--a brownie or a pixie--he knew he'd done something!

His brothers didn't seem to feel it. England frantically turned a circle to look for what he'd summoned. His brothers renewed their laughter.

"I swear I summoned something I..."

His sight met a glittering dark gaze.

England's breath caught.

A paw-digit, slowly, lifted to its lips to shush him. Its eyes were granite, its head tilt uneven, its smile balanced on the verge of fangs.

Behind his brothers.

"Salute," it said low and delighted, "I see you've painted yourself in blood. Red suits you well." He spoke lowly.

England had scrubbed himself of battle. There was no blood, he didn't know what the fae was talking about. He started to speak to correct the Fox, but he never made a sound. The fox hushed him again.

"This is between us, us good friends. Did you forget your brothers are here to hear you? They do not have the sight for me. They wouldn't understand, no, no if you give your friend up you might have to explain your stumble in the woods. How embarrassing to fall into a mushroom ring."

England shut up.

His brothers had quieted as well.

"It's okay, we'll practice your magic and you'll get better again." Cymru mistook his paleness for humiliation.

No, no, that wasn't true--

"Let them believe what they will." Reynard circled around his brothers, coming closer before turning off to walk to the woods. "Follow. You should run, make it fast. Then we will talk, for I know enemies well. When you leave your brothers, they will think your flight their own fault. They might even shower you with their attentions and apologies later... wouldn't you like that?"

His tail circled a beckoning.

England wrung his hands around his wand. Dare he trust a fox of a Fae... the even if the Fae hadn't harmed him before, the Fae wasn't in obligation to leave him untouched again. But the Fae had favoured him, some Fae gave men secrets and tips, Reynard seemed to sympathise with his struggle against the Normans?

Yet Reynard was a Fae, something mysterious and twisting. Something powerful.

How well did this Fae know his enemies?

"Your choice. Run."

England let his conflict continue to war even as he began to move. He didn't think about running. His foot rolled to his toes, he leaned, falling quick into a dash that he barely registered.

A string tugged him gently as he moved to run, but, Reynard, strolling ahead, remained always ahead.

Then, in a blink, England was under the thick forest shade.

He couldn't hear his brothers anymore. The forest arms wrapped silent around him, all else stagnated. Not a bird, not a fly. Reynard was the only movement he saw out of the corner of his eye--for even the sky had taken a break for Reynard.

Not a single gust of wind.

"Good choice," the fox praised with dark eyes, "I understood you to be fox-clever, which you have not failed."

"When will I go back to my brothers?" He asked to cut the fox from speaking further. Praise was warm, it was a fluffing of his feathers he liked, especially so soon after his accompanying victory, but he wanted praise most from another set of mouths. The words of a Fae were less than the words of a brother.

"Soon, do not fret." Its body stood stretched on twos, pulling itself into his own child-sized hight range. Its feet enjoyed a stage of a log which put it higher than him. The stage seemed to make Reynard particularly imposing with straight held shoulders and narrow nose. "I came to offer my fair hand to council, for I'd hate for such a clever kit to fall dead before his worth is known."

Its paw held out as a human hand, a royal hand to be kissed.

"Why? What importance am I to you? Why did you of all fae answer me?"

"I offered a valuable possession unto you, my name, one I lent for wise use. Do not mock my gift! Did you not expect loyalty? And here you aimlessly beckoned, je écoutait. To gift words is my only desire... for one like you so..." it rolled its paw, flexing each toe before settling.

"Close," Reynard said wistfully.

His tone became fond once more. England shifted where he stood.

"Close...?"

"Indeed. Return your mind, let us learn of the legion which tramples English way."

Legion reminded him of Rome. Rome who had given him much--roads and architecture and words and walls--but the rebellions buried in his earth had been savage and the years degrading. His land had always been barren of rare resources, the Romans had concluded that humans were the only resource worth exploiting.

He'd lost much in exchange for his gains.

Normans could be less than Romans, Rome had been the greatest to ever live. And England had driven out the greatest, he could drive out the Normans.

"I don't need your help, my brothers standing with me are enough."

The fox hummed a tone of soft demean.

"I see," the Fae sighed. "I see. Yes." He shook his head and his ears folded backwards. "Waste, I will let you discover this yourself. Little will to realign or alter your allies and foes." The fox paw raised and tapped two thorn-claws together.

It took England a moment to notice that the forest had suddenly resumed moving. It took him moments longer to see it was moving wrong, not how forests aught to move.

The leaves began to crawl, faster, colours taking on the texture of wax, a grim, melting forest of greens and browns and blacks. The smudging fire orange of Reynard's visage dripped, dripped, dripped dizzy into the muddy mix till all merged into muddy black.

The forest died as a candle did, drooping, dripping, melting.

England lost control of his arms and legs. To his silent horror, his hands began to drip, too. He couldn't move, his heart pounded a heavy thump of fear as he was swallowed into nothing.

And for a moment everything washed away...

England half-woke to soft, gentle, swaying trees.

He groggily wondered if he still dreamt.

Where...?

Had he woken?

England drifted on the edge of his dreams. The trees were navy in the night, visible as he swam between sleep and awareness. Imagining his body crawling off for the tree-line fooled his head, but never moving, he remained.

Between sleep he fell as his mind grew tired.

England woke.

He was warm.

Lulls of heat were in the air.... England found his body mobile and curled into soft pelts and blankets. Crackling pops of wood drying in a fire bloomed near, washing shadows and a glow on the unrealised shapes around him. The forest was gone, the sky was still dark. He shifted, rolling to reorient his confusion.

"Sasann?"

Home. Where was mother?

A hand came to his shoulder. England let himself be guided to lift from his nest. He clutched the blankets close to keep their warmth.

Stars glittered navy overhead.

Seeing the open stars... there, no shelter overhead. No roof. There was no mother to wonder about. No... she was a memory.

England pulled the blankets closer.

Alba... his brother was next to him, carefully and silently checking him.

His brothers were camped in a cove of rocks, he saw. Éire was missing, Cymru and Alba were the only ones left by his side.

England barely remembered his dream... fae-like. It should've been real. It had been midday when he'd... left, right? Or after? Had he gone at all? The fae might've warped time, slowing their meeting had lasted longer than it had seemed. The memory of it was slipping unnaturally... replacing the memory was a cotton-stuffed spiderweb that reeked of fairy magic.

That made him frightened.

"What happened?" England leaned against Alba. Scotland's face was shrouded by the glow of the fire.

"... Ah dinnae ken. You ran aa we dinnae find you 'til late... you were sleeping ablow a Hawthorn."

England took a deep breath.

Hawthorn, the wood home of fae. Those who slept below would rarely wake again.

"What were you doin' ablo a Hawthorn?" His brother spoke in such a resigned, pained voice.

"I don't know I... I-I didn't go to the Otherworld."

The fox had taken him into the forest, the place that had melted. But? Had he? Had the forest been made of otherworld tree?

England wrung his hands.

It had been odd tree-kind, mute and dead. No bug, no bird, no living he had heard. The forest had been wrong... warped as otherword things were. It could have been fae forest, for even the sky had been unmoving. Only the Fox had been alive as living things should be.

But how could Reynard have taken him to the Otherworld without permission?

England got colder than he was already cold as he realised.

He had inadvertently agreed to go with a fae. To go anywhere. The fae had offered to take him somewhere away from his brothers, it had asked him to follow, England had taken the offer. He had given himself up fully to the fae's will and Otherworld realm.

"I made a mistake," England whispered.

"Tell me you hivna' made a promise..." His brother's brows drew together. "Tell me it wisna' longer than a day?"

"I don't think... I think-I think I turned something down. I can't remember.... I know it was short, so short, I was just... I was just with you and...then..." England couldn't say anything else.

"That's good," Scotland said. He embraced England in a tight hug, one hand carding into his tangled hair guiding his head to rest on his shoulder. "I think you'd've remembered it if you'd've made a promise."

"M' sorry..."

"No apologies, you're nae gone."

England realised his wand was no longer with him.

#aph england #aph scotland #aph wales #hetalia fanfiction #reynard the fox #fae folk

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 2 years ago

Note

Opera you like but don't talk about much?

so! let’s talk about bellini’s la sonnambula.

“savannah you don’t even like bellini that much” lalalalalalalalala can’t hear you i have Opinions.

specifically, let’s talk about lisa.

if you’re not familiar with the story of la sonnambula, it’s basically about this small town village girl named amina who’s in love with a boy named elvino and they’re about to get married and shit. BUT amina is a sleepwalker! and no one in this swiss village circa 1830 knows that sleepwalking is a Thing. so when amina sleepwalks into an older gentleman’s hotel room and elvino discovers her there, he denounces her as a cheating whore and breaks off their engagement, but amina’s honor and engagement are swiftly restored once the whole village sees amina sleepwalking and realizes that That Is A Thing.

it’s an exceptionally stupid plot, but i digress.

so who’s lisa?

WELL, lisa is the owner of the aforementioned hotel and she’s had her eye on elvino for practically forever. in fact, they were even engaged before amina came into the picture and he broke up with her. she flirts with count rodolfo (the aforementioned older gentleman) in his room while she’s making the evening rounds, but runs when amina shows up (not knowing she’s sleepwalking) and drops a handkerchief in the process.

then she goes and finds elvino and is like “uh hey i think your girlfriend is cheating on you” and then elvino has this massive overreaction and yadda yadda yadda he actually decides to marry lisa after breaking up with amina! but then amina’s adoptive mother teresa finds the handkerchief and slut shames lisa in front of the entire village.

and here’s the thing: even with her getting elvino, which caused amina’s life to be temporarily ruined, i feel incredibly bad for her.

first off, she’s a businesswoman in a small town in the 1800s. that was really fuckin hard and she was probably already looked at with some suspicion by the townspeople, especially working in a job that yes, did cater to men traveling alone!

[also, a tangent off this: as i previously mentioned, lisa is in love with elvino, who was engaged to her before he broke up with her and got engaged to amina. but lisa is being chased by a local village dude named alessio, and she is Not Having It With Him. she’s trying to gently fend him off too, which is ALSO very hard in a small town in the 1800s. plus the class differences and how she’ll no longer have her own property if she gets married. get married to someone she doesn’t like AND have to give up ownership of her property? no thank you. and that may also cause some problems for her. she litchrally just wants to live her life and not get treated like a piece of shit.]

but really: is it at all sensible to claim that being in the same room as a man alone means you’ll have sex with him? girl was just doing her job and she flirted with a guy ONE (1) time at work. and it wasn’t even really flirting!

this is the entirety of the “flirting”.

immediately after this, amina shows up and lisa runs away. and i think she does even though the intruder is coming in through the window (and what sort of person would come in through the window?) because she’s probably already on edge. she’s probably afraid of making that one wrong move and having her honor and reputation obliterated, which could also be bad for her business!

and lisa getting elvino isn’t her trying to destroy amina’s reputation! she doesn’t know amina is a sleepwalker!

it’s an on-sing one line-off thing. ten seconds tops. she even leaves the room before singing the line so she doesn’t know!!! so she may benefit from amina being out of the way, yes, but she didn’t know!

also, lisa did not intend to have the entire village see the debacle play out imo. she did know they were outside to welcome the count, but the chorus was already peeping in before lisa returned with elvino so she had no way to tell them all beforehand! they didn’t know either, which makes me think lisa didn’t intend for them to know.

there is this, which some could interpret as lisa saying “uh, fuck you amina”:

but i have a different approach. this is not necessarily her saying what should happen to her; it’s her saying what will happen to her. if it’s true she’s been unfaithful, according to nineteenth-century society, she’ll be hated forever. that’s just how it was. she’ll be a social pariah.

and lisa knows that, and she’s afraid that it’ll happen to her.

and then it does.

see, in act two, elvino decides “well let’s go to my fallback girl and marry her” and lisa is obvs Quite Happy About This.

she doesn’t feel worthy of him. 🥺

so they are just about to enter the church for the wedding when rodolfo shows up to stop them and then teresa shows up. after much back and forth, lisa tries to defend herself:

this is what we call projecting. i cannot stress this enough: she is trying to protect herself.

is it very cash money of her? okay, no. is it understandable? uh, yeah.

and technically, she is correct: she doesn’t know amina is a sleepwalker and amina was the intruder in the previous act and they never interacted, so no, she has never been caught alone in a man’s room.

but as i said, even if she had been caught: she was at work! she was LITCHRALLY at work!!! what is this, a mike pence “never be alone in a room with someone of the ‘opposite’ [there are more than two genders btw] gender even for professional reasons” thing? that’s ridiculous!

and in a way, as we quickly see, lisa was caught: teresa pulls out the handkerchief she found and shames her.

and lisa is ashamed, saying she doesn’t dare to even lift up her head and she cannot defend herself.

and after this, in the libretto, lisa is silenced. she never speaks her own words again. this powerful woman is rendered powerless, humiliated to the point of losing her ability to express her own thoughts in this village now set against her.

and no one comes to defend her. not elvino, her former/current lover. not alessio, the man supposedly head over heels for her. obviously not teresa, who is the one leading the charge against her. not anyone who has ever interacted with her in a professional or personal capacity.

not even count rodolfo, the powerful man who was actually there and could exonerate her, decides to defend her.

it’s not that he can’t defend her, it’s that simply he does not want to. he litchrally says he does not want to share his thoughts.

and then he turns around and immediately pleads amina’s innocence.

he wants to defend her. and that may be possibly because of the implication for him: he took advantage of a poor peasant girl. but for lisa: oh that’s different, surely she was flirting with him, she had power in the situation because it was her business, and so on.

but let’s set that aside for a section because that is conjecture. except for elvino, no one else connects this to him.

but it ties into a larger thing that may or may not affect rodolfo, definitely affects the villagers, and probably affects stage directors to this day: the madonna/whore complex. amina is the pure madonna, lisa is the whore left in the shadows. amina’s innocence must be protected but lisa can fend for herself so surely she’ll be okay, right? wrong.

amina being an ingenue doesn’t make lisa a bad person. lisa is in a precarious position and she is afraid and she is trying her best to stay afloat in a society designed to work against people like her.

she isn’t an angel or a devil. she is a woman trying to live.

thank you for coming to my ted talk!

(had a long conversation about this last night with @carlodivarga-s)

#opera tag #opera #opera asks #asks #la sonnambula #the sleepwalker #bellini #vincenzo bellini #in short: lisa deserves better #and the madonna/whore complex is stupid #opera analysis

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steppingstonesuniverseguide · 1 year ago

Text

One More Step Out of the Pit: Chapter 8/26

Summary: It had been Tommy and Tubbo for practically forever. They clawed their way out of hell together. They discovered their superpowers together. They started working for the Superhero Guild together before even coming of age. Tommy probably owed Tubbo his life ten times over. So, when the three supervillains he'd been assigned to bring in managed to take Tubbo hostage, well, there was really only one thing to do.

He knew, of course, he was signing himself up for torture and death by offering that trade, but that was okay.

It'd have to be okay.

AO3 Link (See AO3 for Warnings.)

(This story is finished and has been posted on AO3 for a while, but I'm posting it on Tumblr so it's somewhere else too (considering the day AO3 was down a bit ago). The author notes will all be kept as well. If you are following the blog and don't want to see these posts, block the tag #backlog.)

Tommy was surprised that the bed they’d let him have was as comfortable as it was. Actually, having a bed at all was confusing. He’d expected a dark dungeon or something, maybe a prison cell similar to the one Dream had left him in earlier. He wasn’t sure if the plain predominantly white room with the giant mirror on one side (obviously a one-way mirror to observe him. Tommy wasn’t stupid) was any better than what he’d imagined, but at least he had a nice bed to collapse on. He’d pulled the bed’s comforter over his head as soon as the Blade had left probably to watch him from the other room. It at least gave him the allusion of being away from prying eyes.

Also, it hid the blood that was already leaking through the white shirt Blade had made him change into.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d ripped open his stitches. It had probably been bleeding by the time he’d been in the cell back at HQ, because he remembered that it’d started to sting badly before Ender helped him get out. It could have been jumping down the stairs, the run to HQ, the way Dream had shoved him onto the hard concrete, or a mixture of the three, but he was bleeding again. He hadn’t really paid it any mind because he’d been way, way too preoccupied with getting to Tubbo before any harm could come to him. He’d ignored it the best he could even though it stopped him from doing things like bouncing around and running like he usually did.

He couldn’t ignore it now.

The supersuit was basically designed for him to be injured in it. It was tight, not quite like a bandage, but it mostly worked on keeping his insides on his inside and the interior was superabsorbent, so nothing leaked through and even if it did, it was red. Taking it off had hurt really, really bad. He’d done his best to wipe up the blood with the shirt sleeves and had ripped off some of the fabric near the neck to make a makeshift bandage, but it needed stitches.

He’d been able to hide it from The Blade while they walked here, but he could already feel blood oozing around the edges of his poorly made bandage. He didn’t look, but he was sure it was starting to stain their clean white sheets.

Why did they invest in white sheets in a torture room anyway? Tommy was sure he’d learn the answer, and that he wouldn’t like it soon enough. He’d somehow managed to dodge the worst of the worst in The Pit even without a family to provide protection, but he still knew plenty about how bad people could be: the deadly fighting ring whose opening entertainment was tossing 4-10 year-olds in the ring with their best fighters to be beaten to death; Nightmare’s void which is where people claim the little scraps of magic in The Pit are sourced by means of tossing the unlucky into it and having their essences absorbed; the flesh museum which was exactly what it sounded like and very, very gross. Tommy had managed to dodge it all even without powers, but he still understood that people were capable of those things.

The people on the surface were usually better, but The Pit was a result of tossing supervillains down there without their powers and then letting the society that bloomed fester and rot over a couple of generations, needled on with a few limited sources of magic. Which meant the capacity for all of that horribleness had and probably still did exist even here.

He could see Whippoorwill coming up with something crazy like wanting white sheets so they could be stained in blood like abstract art pieces. They probably had a whole hall of them framed and hanging up from past heroes. The Blade apparently liked chanting about blood when he fought, so Tommy could totally see it.

Well, he thought, if that were the case, he was giving them a nice head start the their latest art piece. Or they’d be pissed he’d ruined it.

He had thought about mentioning the stab wound to Blade, but that seemed like a horrible idea all around. At best, he’d probably just shrug it off since their job was half done. At worst, they’d chose to sew him up because they wanted the chance to inflict their own damage before killing him. Maybe if they dallied long enough before starting whatever they had planned (which might be possible since they’d just thrown him in here and left him alone), he’d manage to bleed to death before they noticed and cheat them out of their plans. That’d be a sort of win, right?

That…that was a terrifying thought. He took a shuddering breath and clenched his hands in the bedsheet. All of this was very, very scary and he hadn’t had much of a chance to really think about it yet. He’d mostly been working on instinct since he’d learned about Tubbo and hadn’t thought about the consequences to himself. He was… he was going to die, wasn’t he? Unless by some miracle he managed to escape this room, this huge liar, and whatever dangers lay outside considering he could tell they were far from the city by the noises in the car all with a bleeding stab wound, he was going to die. Now it was just a matter of how painful it was going to be.

Tubbo would be alright though and that made it okay. Apparently, he and Ender were close anyway so he wouldn’t even be alone. That was… that was good.

He curled up the best he could without hurting himself more. He’d been cold since changing clothes and was getting tired despite the situation. He clenched his eyes closed, doing his best to not think about what was to come.

He didn’t know how long he laid there before he heard the sound of a door opening. He curled tighter into himself, his wound stinging as he did so and kept his eyes closed. He held his breath like he thought no one could see him if he didn’t breathe as footsteps came closer.

“Hey there,” a voice said: Philza, Tommy identified. Tommy didn’t answer. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “You probably didn’t get lunch if you were worried about Clinanthium, yeah?” That was true. He definitely did not have lunch between the stabbing and saving Tubbo. He hadn’t even realized it with all of the other things on his mind, but he did feel a bit hungry.

Tommy bit his lip and tasted copper. “It drugged?” he asked.

“No, it’s not drugged,” Philza assured. “Just some normal mac and cheese.”

It was probably drugged. They also probably had needles waiting for him if he didn’t eat it. He might as well get something in his stomach for the deal. He nodded and, ever so slowly, uncurled himself and sat up, being sure to keep the thick comforter over most of his body since he could feel that the sheet already had plenty of sticky blood on it. He blinked away the spots that appeared in his vision when he moved to see Philza was holding a tray with a good-sized bowl and a clear cup of water on it.

Philza offered it with a smile and Tommy reached out to grab it, settling it into his lap when it was handed over. Philza took the water glass and set it on a small table next to the bed so it wouldn’t spill. Tommy reached for the spoon. He’d normally eat mac and cheese with a fork, but he did not suspect Philza was an idiot, so he did ask for one.

It was… not the mac and cheese Tommy was used to. He was used to the bright orange watery cheese and little spiral shaped noodles that he and Tubbo made from the box. This was more of a creamy light-yellow sauce with elbow shaped noodles and some sort of crumbly bits on top. He took a cautious bite; his hand shook a bit as he brought it to his mouth. Philza’s eyes seemed to narrow in on the sign of weakness, but he didn’t say anything, taking a seat in one of the chairs nearby.

The food was… weird. Not bad, just weird. It was a lot heavier than he was used to. Mac and cheese was usually a Tommy had a training session with Dream and could barely get out of bed, but would prefer immediate Tubbo cuddles when he got home instead of having to wait for Tubbo to cook them something first kind of meal. This, on the other hand was, like, food food.

He took a few more bites, and decided he liked it. It was really cheesy and the crunchy bits on top gave it a nice texture. But, at the same time…

“I think that’s… all I can eat,” Tommy said after maybe a dozen bites. Philza looked at him and then at the bowl. “It’s a little rich,” Tommy explained, hoping he wasn’t mad. He assumed if it was drugged that he’d eaten enough of whatever it was laced with by now, but would Philza be pissed if he hadn’t?

Philza tilted his head. Between that and the wings folded on his back, he looked a bit like a bird, Tommy thought amused. Birdza.

“Birdza?” Philza questioned. Oops. Filter, Tommy, filter. Remember what Tubbo tried so very hard to teach you. He was just so tired though and filters were hard when your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“S-sorry,” Tommy said. “Words just…” he waved his hand, “happen sometimes.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “Just don’t mention the name to Whiperwill. He’ll latch onto it, make an entire song about ‘birdza,’ and be annoying as fuck.”

Tommy shot him a thumbs up, and the tray almost slipped out of his lap. Philza leaned forward to catch it and Tommy flinched at how fast he was able to move.

Philza took the tray away, a bit of a frown on his face. “Need some water?”

Tommy nodded and Philza turned to set the tray on the nightstand before grabbing the glass of water.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Tommy. Tommy brought it to his lips but spilled far more of it than he managed to drink with how his whole body was slightly quaking. Philza reached out a hand to help steady the glass. It was a bit humiliating, but it did let Tommy get a bit more water down his parched throat. He took the glass back after Tommy pulled away and settled it back on the table before turning back to him with searching eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked.

No. He was not alright. He was very not alright. Everything hurt so badly, and they were going to hurt him so much more. Why did Philza’s voice have to curl into fake sympathy? Why did, without even seeming to think about it, his thumb come up to gently wipe away a bit of the wetness on Tommy’s face that was totally from the glass of water even though it landed far above his mouth.

Tommy looked up at him in confusion and he seemed to realize what he’d done. He was touching Tommy, his hand hot against Tommy’s frigid skin and his touch as gentle as a feather. Ha bird. Feathers. Bird. What was Tommy thinking about?

“Sorry.” The warmth moved away from Tommy’s face, leaving him colder than before and a whimper left Tommy’s mouth. There was a moment’s pause and then the warmth returned. “I-it’s okay,” said a voice softly. Philza. Tommy was scared of Philza. Philza was big and smart and always calm even when fighting. He feared nothing. He didn’t even wear a mask, something that everyone did, even Dream. He had superstrength, but he didn’t crush Tommy’s skull in his palm when Tommy leaned into it. A different hand touched the top of his head, running through his hair softly. “Hush,” he said, probably because some horrible noise he couldn’t control was pouring out of Tommy’s mouth.

It was nice, Tommy thought, the soft way he was cupping Tommy’s cheek with calloused fingers, and so warm too. He shivered. When was the last time someone had treated him as gently as this? Baring Tubbo, of course, whose hands sometimes felt like an extension of Tommy’s own.

It was definitely a trick: something to make it worse when they turned on him or because the man wanted something he knew he couldn’t get as easily by force. Yet, it was also so warm and gentle. Tommy had grown colder and colder over the last few minutes without his entire body covered by the blankets. Was it really so bad to just accept it? Especially knowing that it was a trick. It’s not like he was playing into his hands. This way it was almost like he was scamming affection out of the man. Yeah, yeah, Tommy was winning in the little way he could at this point by leaning into the touch, by drooping and leaning his head onto the man’s shoulder. Hmm, yeah, he’d definitely been drugged.

“Mate, seriously, are you okay?” The voice laced with something warm and almost concerned settled pleasantly in Tommy’s chest.

Tommy hummed back, his hand gripping at the edges of the man’s shirt. He was so cold. Why did they keep this place so freezing?

“Alright,” the man said with a soft chuckle. “I think maybe you’re a bit sleep deprived? Are you tired?”

Why was he acting surprised; this was the drugs wasn’t it?

The man stroked his fingers softly through his hair again. When Tommy didn’t try to respond at all, he shifted a bit under him. “Why don’t we get you settled into bed,” he suggested. He pulled away slightly and Tommy whined softly at the loss. The hand came back to pat him on the head as the sheets rustled around him. “Let’s…” Philza trailed off abruptly. “Is that blood.”

Tommy’s eyes popped open. Oh right, he’d forgotten about that.

Author Note:

Fun fact, the next chapter is titled Phil-AHHHH in my drafts.

(Also for people who have read my other stuff. Yes. Mac and cheese angst again. It is my brand and I cannot be stopped.)

#backlog

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