#the way he curls under it like a little turtle

[adrift-in-thyme]

Replaying OoT (because why not play like five different Zelda games at once?) and my gosh tiny Time is such a baby ;-;

[dandylovesturtles]

explaining the train of thought that got me to this would take way too much backstory but basically I had an idea and then I wrote it. I rewatched Scream recently so maybe that helps lol

cw: death (not of a canon character), mentions of blood and vomit

-----

The call comes in at a little after 2 AM, and he almost doesn’t answer because he’s busy.

But Leo almost never calls him, and it’s a singular enough occurrence that he picks up the phone and hits the button.

“Hello, you are conversing with Donatello,” he greets. “Make it quick, Nardo, I’m elbow deep in the tank’s engine.”

On the other end of the line, Leo is silent. Or, mostly silent; Donnie can hear him breathing, a little too loud, a little too fast.

Suddenly, he’s on high alert. He sits back from the tank, speaking more urgently into the phone, “Leo?”

There’s another second of breathing, and then, finally, in a voice that is too high and panicked to be his normal joking tone, he says, “Hey, remember when I sent you that meme about siblings who will beat the crap out of each other one minute and hide a body for each other the next, and I said, “us,” and you gave it a heart?”

Donnie blinks. Processes that string of words.

“I think I recall it,” he says.

“Well,” says Leo. “I need to know if that’s really us.”

Donnie stands up and keys in the command to swap battleshells to the jetpack.

“Stay where you are,” he says. “I’m on my way.”

-----

The body is male. Early twenties. About six two or six three. Caucasian. Wearing some ghoulish mask like the serial killer in a bad teen slasher.

Actually, now that Donnie thinks about it, there’s been stuff on the news lately. About a guy who likes to knife up co-eds. And Leo’s wearing his biggest, baggiest hoodie, and jeans, and in a dark alley like this it would be easy to mistake him for a normal, non-mutated human teen.

The puzzle pieces are all laid out for Donnie, but the picture it paints is pretty unbelievable.

Then again, he’s a mutant turtle who grew up in a sewer and recently fended off an alien invasion. His bar for believable is pretty low.

He takes in the body, slashed across the chest, ridiculous getup soaked in blood. Then he turns to look at Leo, curled around his knees against the wall. There’s blood all over him, too, but Donnie feels pretty confident that most of it is not his own. There’s a puddle of vomit nearby, and a dagger, and a katana, cast aside.

Leo raises his eyes to meet Donnie’s. “I didn’t know he was human.”

Donnie looks back at the body, and at the mask. Connects it to the dagger, which definitely isn’t Leo’s.

“Seems like he was a great guy,” Donnie says. 

“He stabbed my arm.”

“I meant it sarcastically.”

Leo laughs, high and reedy. Then he leans over and vomits again.

Donnie can’t help but curl his snout at that one. He looks away and waits for Leo to finish.

There’s a spit, then a sniff, then Leo says, “He stabbed my arm and I turned around and saw the mask.”

Ah yes, that. It’s pink and has a serrated smile. Little rubbery bits of slime and ooze. These things got popular after the invasion - they aren’t anywhere near the real thing, but in a dark alley, under attack, alone, when Leo had…

The puzzle pieces are there. Donnie doesn’t really need an explanation to put it together.

Actually, scratch that: he does need an explanation for one thing.

“Why are you so upset about this?” He looks back at Leo. “You took out a serial killer. Or a wannabe serial killer. At the very least a stabber.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” says Leo immediately. A little pleading. “I didn’t think that would… I didn’t know he was human.”

“He attacked you.”

“I could have disarmed him. I could have trapped him and let the police deal with him.”

“He came up behind you in this creepy mask and stabbed your arm.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against me,” says Leo, and it’s not swaggering and not boastful, but horrified. “It was like tearing paper, Dee. It was so easy.”

Donnie leaves the body to kneel in front of his brother. He puts his hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye to make sure he listens.

“He attacked you, Nardo. He wanted to kill you. He made the wrong choice. Not you.”

Leo looks down, at the blood on his hoodie, and Donnie squeezes his shoulders until they lock eyes again. 

“He made the wrong choice,” Donnie repeats emphatically. 

Leo sighs, like he’s giving in, and a rueful smile grows on his face. “Thanks, hermano. But I don’t think the EPF is gonna see it that way.”

Ah yes, the good old United States government, and their hilariously poorly titled Earth Protection Force. Since the invasion, their existence had become known to the EPF, and they’ve been in an unspoken truce ever since. A “live and let live” holding pattern.

Unfortunately, Donnie has to admit Leo is right on this one: that this man is likely and most probably a serial killer won’t matter to the EPF. Killing any human crosses a line they won’t tolerate.

And so, there is only one solution here. The one Leo proposed when he first called.

Donnie is going to help him hide a body.

…Which means he is going to have to touch it.

Leo frowns at him. “Uh, Dee, what’s the yarf-face for?”

“I just realized how gross this is going to be.”

Leo laughs again, more than a little hysterical, and lets his head fall against Donnie’s plastron, the giggles shaking his shoulders under Donnie’s hands.

“That wasn’t a joke,” Donnie insists. Leo just laughs even harder.

Donnie scowls, even as he pulls Leo closer. “That meme really is us. I want to beat the crap out of you right now.”

Leo howls with laughter. Except it sounds a little more like sobbing now. Donnie gathers him up and holds him until he’s better again.

-----

Across the Hudson, the sky is turning pink. Donnie stands with Leo, watching the water that the body disappeared under.

They’ve already scrubbed the alley clean of any blood traces - his and Leo’s. He also had his drones bring gloves with the cleaning supplies, so they didn’t leave any fingerprints. At least Leo had the sense not to touch anything. And it’s not like the government has their prints on file, anyway. Donnie’s checked.

There wasn’t anything they could really do to hide the massive laceration that led to the body’s death. Short of melting it in acid, but both of them had dismissed that idea as soon as Donnie raised it. Despite what Donnie thinks of himself, he isn’t actually a stone cold disposer of bodies. The idea of melting it was too gross to think about.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if the body gets found, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. And Donnie doesn’t see any reason it should.

He’s already hacked any security cameras near the scene and made sure Leo doesn’t show up on any of them. Leo’s a good enough ninja to avoid that sort of thing, anyway, not that Donnie will admit it out loud. The crabs and fish will take care of the flesh and the katana’s mark. Leo destroyed the weapon itself in a bright blue explosion of ninpo.

“It’s kind of a bummer,” says Leo after a minute, “that the murders will go unsolved.”

“No, they won’t.” Donnie pulls out a phone, holding it carefully with his gloves. “He helpfully took trophy photos.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Dude, did you fish around in his pockets?”

Donnie can’t help but curl his lips. “Ugh, don’t remind me. It was a very unpleasant experience and I don’t want to repeat it.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Find where he lived and leave it there.” Donnie shrugs. “His body will turn up, or he’ll get reported missing. The cops will find it and everything will be wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

“Huh. Guess that takes care of that.” A pause. Leo shuffles a bit next to him. “You’re… really calm about this.”

Is he? Since the moment he got that phone call, he entered Fix It mode. He hasn’t really thought of anything else since.

“I don’t know if I will be later,” he admits.

“I’ll be there, if you’re not.”

Donnie hums an acknowledgement. There’s a weight against his arm, Leo leaning into him.

“Thanks, Dee,” he says.

“You’d do the same for me,” Donnie replies.

“Yeah,” Leo agrees. Simple as that.

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Come to Bed | Donatello

this started with the idea of seducing donnie into healthy sleeping patterns and then just. spiralled from there. i didn't really have a specific iteration in mind but reading it back, it definitely fits bayverse most, i think, so that's what i'll categorise it under!

warnings: NSFW, swearing, general filthiness? gender neutral reader, everyone is 18+!!

summary: there is only one way to get donnie to come to bed (two if you count blackmail)

word count: 2411

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It’s nearly 3am and your eyelids feel heavy, eyes glassy and beginning to ache just a little, and Donnie is still not in bed. You look at the empty space beside you, cold and untouched, and kick the covers off your bare legs. The air is cool, goosebumps raising the moment you abandon the comfort of bed, and you almost regret getting up as your feet hit the freezing floor.

Donnie is so lucky you love him and care for his health.

He's exactly where you'd left him hours before, sitting hunched over a desk in his lab, and you wonder briefly if turtles with their shells can suffer the same complications as humans with poor posture. Perhaps you'll force him to join you and Mikey for your bi-weekly yoga sessions. “Donnie?”

The terrapin doesn't so much as flinch, instead burying his face further into a screen that is already way too close to his face. Oh, his prescription is definitely going to need updating soon, you think amusedly. You clear your throat, attempting your best grumpy Raph impersonation. “Oi, four-eyes.”

Now Donnie does flinch, beak nearly crashing into his monitor, glasses slipping as he salvages his precious technology from being assaulted by his face and spinning in his seat to glower at whoever dared disturb him. He relaxes when he realises it's just you, shooting you a scowl that's devoid of any real heat. “You need to stop doing that voice, it's creepy.”

You grin at him, noting the exact moment he registers what you're wearing – or, rather, what you're not wearing. His eyes go wide and his lips part, scowl melting like ice doused in salt. He swallows thickly. “You're meant to be a ninja,” you tease, stepping slowly into his space and letting his hands fall to your waist before they curl around your back as he pulls you close, palms flattening against your spine. “You can't hear when one measly human is behind you?”

“You are so mean to me,” Donnie says instead of answering.

“We both know you like it. Besides,” you look down at your naked skin, his own eyes following your pointed gaze eagerly. “I think I'm being pretty kind, actually. Someone was meant to come to bed three hours ago and ravish me, but apparently, I'm not more interesting than,” you peer over his shoulder as best you can, squinting at the tiny squiggles. Lips pursed, you look at your boyfriend flatly, not bothering to finish your sentence.

“I can explain.”

“World of Warcraft? Really, Donatello?”

He winces at the full name. “I wasn’t playing for long,” he defends himself. “I’ve been looking over some things Leo asked for since this morning, I was just taking a break.”

“Taking a break means coming to bed and not staring at a screen for even longer.” Softer, you add, “I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

You run your hands up the bumpy skin of his muscled arms, over scars and rough tissue that you’ve pressed kisses to countless times, to rest upon his shoulders. A small part of you is resentful, but the larger, kinder part of you is concerned; his eyes are bloodshot to the extreme, and exhaustion is etched deep into the lines of his face. You dig your nails in and massage a little roughly, feeling those worried knots and doing your best to soothe them with gentle palms.

It hits him then, just exactly what he’d missed out on by getting caught up, and his shoulders sag under the tender weight of your caress, twitchy energy that can keep him up for days deserting him instantly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly.

You smile at him, fond and warm, one hand trailing upwards to cup his jaw. “It’s okay.” His skin is something you’ll never get tired of touching, you think, as you rub your thumb over the swell of his cheek. You pinch him a little, coy and mean the way you know he loves, before soothing it with a whisper of a kiss when he hisses playfully. “Although, you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“And what is my punishment?” he asks dryly, guilt pushed aside to indulge in your teasing as you lean closer to hide your smirk in the crook of his neck.

“You’ll be in bed by 11 p.m. sharp every night for the next week.” You can tell an objection is on the tip of his tongue, and you fix your teeth along his throat in warning. “I’ve already cleared everything with Splinter and Leo.” 

Donnie sighs both in pleasure and in resignation. “Are you trying to seduce me into having healthy sleeping patterns?”

You start to kiss his neck, soft grazes of your lips against his scaled skin. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Well—”

“If the answer isn’t yes, I’ll be very offended and I’ll be forced to dump you,” you add airily, tongue flicking leisurely over his rapid pulse. “You're incredibly lucky I haven't already for ditching me for World of fucking Warcraft.”

“Oh, blackmail too. Lucky me,” Donnie mutters, but it’s full of mirth and he doesn't push his luck any further.

You grin against his skin, and you grin even wider when he starts as your teeth scrape along the column of his throat. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips, and you bite down harder just to feel his grip tighten.

“You’re such a tease,” he whines, unable to stop himself bucking up into you. His breathing has turned to panting, short and desperate gasps that make heat curl in your stomach, and you trail your nails down the keratin of his plastron slowly.

“You love it,” you murmur coyly, fingers brushing against the elastic of his waistband mischievously. “And you deserve it.”

Donnie curses loudly, head falling back as you pull on that elastic just to let it snap back against him. His pants are soaking, and you feel that familiar rush of smug satisfaction as you slot your knee between his thighs. It does terrible things to your ego seeing him like this; it makes you drunk and dizzy seeing him drenched and needy for you, and you groan under your breath as he grinds against you. 

“Please,” he whimpers.

You hum as casually as you can. “Please what?”

“Fuck, please, I need you—” He cuts himself off with a loud cry of your name as you slide two fingers past his waistband and into his dripping cloaca.

“Keep going.”

He’s quick to turn into a blubbering mess, drool running down his chin and words slurring as he babbles and begs you to continue finger-fucking him. “Don’t stop, please—yes, yes, right there, there, fuck—”

Your fingers pump in and out, scissoring inside him at a harsh pace you know he likes. He’s sopping wet but that doesn’t stop the tiny spikes of pain mixing deliriously with pleasure as you stretch him wide without warning. You can feel his slick coating your hand, running down your skin and over your knuckles, and he only gushes more when you add a third digit.

“Faster, faster,” he chants shakily, almost sobbing when you slow instead. 

“You’re so tight, baby,” you purr. “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s definitely sobbing now. “I can take it, please, please.”

“Oh?” You curl your fingers and fuck him harder and faster, just the way he wants. His cock is there, thick and heavy and ready to drop, and he shudders as you brush softly against it.

His voice is choked as he calls your name again. "Gonna drop, please–”

Your laugh is light and a little cruel and it makes him wail, the sound overflowing with need and desperation. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh god,” Donnie gasps as your fingers rub along his length still tucked inside, a fresh wave of slick trickling down to your wrist.

“I would’ve been kind,” you tell him nonchalantly, kissing his temple and huffing another laugh when he can’t stop his hips from grinding into you, body begging you to bury your fingers deeper inside him. “But you’ve been such a bad boy.”

He drops with a guttural groan followed by a pathetic whimper, gasping apologies feebly.

You sigh and pull your hand back, your resolve faltering just a little when Donnie whines and cries louder at the action. “You’re being very bad tonight, baby.”

He’s still wearing his pants and you roll your lips to hide a smile as he tugs them down frantically, his cock finally free in the air. His hands grip the arms of his chair so hard that you swear you hear them creak, desperate to touch himself but not wanting to disobey you any further. It’s a bit late to play innocent and good now, and you shoot him an unimpressed look that makes his jaw clench. “Please,” Donnie breathes.

Your hand is still soaked, and you watch him watch you as you raise your fingers to your lips, sticky tendrils trembling as you rub your fingertips together before parting them slowly. Eyes fixed on his, you glide your tongue over his slick, sucking gently and exhaling quietly at the flavour that blooms over your tastebuds. The arms of the chair are definitely creaking now, and you smile coyly as his cock twitches.

“Please.”

As much as you love teasing him into a pathetic frenzy, you remember his weary eyes and decide to put him out of his misery. There’ll be plenty of time to punish Donnie the way he deserves later – lots of edging and whining and begging and very little relief. For now, you’ll give him what he wants.

You kneel between his legs, coquettish as you glance up at him through your lashes; he’s working his jaw, teeth clenched and eyes darting wildly as he barely holds himself together. Grasping his hard cock in your hand, slick and heavy, you begin to pump slowly.

The chirps and churrs that escape him are whining and full of ecstasy, his eyes fluttering as you squeeze your palms around his thick length, hands twisting with an obscene squelch at every stroke. The lab is quiet apart from the wet pumping and his throaty groans, and you wonder if his moaning will be loud enough to wake the others. It wouldn’t surprise you, and the thought makes your hand move faster as you rub your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

Donnie can’t stop the stutter of his hips, head falling back. “Fuck.” He swears louder as your lips suckle his tip, your name a rasping prayer spilling from his mouth. You flick your tongue, tasting the slightly bitter flavour of his precum and just how soaked he is, evidence of what you do to him coating your face, and he cries noisily when you suddenly take another few inches into your mouth and swallow around him. He’s hitting the back of your throat, and he feels like he’s about to faint from how tight and warm you feel.

A wave of embarrassment hits him as you pull back and smirk, his head still pressed against your flirtatious smile while you continue to work him with your hands. “Please,” he begs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“You’re so good at begging,” you praise, eyes sparkling when it makes him moan lewdly. Oh, that definitely woke someone up. He’s back to bucking his hips and because you’re so kind, you let him dictate the pace as you continue pumping.

“So close,” he breathes shakily. “I’m so close, please.”

“Please, what?”

His eyes roll back, and the arms of his chair finally give way, crumbling under his crushing grip as impressions of his hands mould into the metal. Donnie doesn’t stop rocking and whimpering. “Please let me come.”

You kiss the head of his cock once more, delighting in the way he tremors at the whisper of touch. “Be a good boy and come for me, Donatello.”

There’s nothing Donnie loves more than being good for you and he shows this by coming undone the second his name leaves your lips, body jolting and convulsing like he's been struck by lightning as you continue to milk his cock while his orgasm wracks through him. Your face is completely covered, ropes of his come painting your skin as he groans pitifully, the sound agonised and mewling. 

It’s almost silent for a few moments, the only noises are Donnie’s wheezing pants and whimpers of oversensitivity, and you watch him quietly. He’s so beautiful like this, blissed out, stress a stranger rather than a constant companion, and you wish you could both stay like this.

The moment is over too soon as the terrapin manages to open his eyes blearily, although they nearly shut again in dizzying satisfaction when he catches sight of your come-smeared cheeks. It’s dripping down your chin, threatening to spill down your neck and to your chest, and a part of you wants to leave it, relishing in the way Donnie is entirely transfixed, but you scoop what you can on your fingers and bring the sticky threads to your mouth instead.

Donnie’s lips part and his breath hitches and it’s your turn to shut your eyes in pleasure, eyes rolling and unable to stop a soft groan as you lick and swallow what he’s given you. “Mean,” he accuses again when you finally open your eyes, and you grin at how faint he sounds.

“Just for you,” you agree and he churrs instinctively, flushing as you snicker. He’s so cute, you think fondly, letting him reach out and grasp you closer, seeking comfort. And so easy.

“I think I need that nap now,” Donnie tells you weakly, and you huff another laugh against his sweaty skin, tasting salt and nuzzling further into him. 

You press a loving kiss to his shoulder and reluctantly pull back. “Shower then bed, come on.” His legs are shaky, and you purse your lips to stop from chuckling as he stumbles like a newborn lamb, begrudgingly relenting to leaning against you. “Poor Bambi,” you tease, brushing your lips against his plastron in a loving caress when he grumbles playfully. 

Hopefully, no one has been awoken by your night-time activities and, if they have, you hope they’re not up and roaming because you’d really rather not have to bump into any of Donnie’s family with his come still coating your face.

[merakiui]

risky rascality (tsum sex).

azutsum x (female) reader x azul ashengrotto cw: nsfw, non-con, tsum sex, tsum has a dick, ntr, shameless smut, loss of virginity, cumflation, characters written as 18+ note - don't underestimate the importance of body language. (or: azul's tsum misreads your intentions and fucks you.)

You’ve found yourself in Azul’s VIP room plenty of times in the past, so it’s impossible to explain the anxiety that washes over you. Sudden like a devastating tidal wave, it rocks you to your core the moment Azul offers you a casual smile. He’s so charming. You almost forget you’re here for your usual tutoring session and not a study date. One can dream.

“Before we begin, I’ll have to step out for a moment. There’s something that requires my immediate attention. I shouldn’t be too long. In the meantime, would you mind getting your notes out and turning to the chapter we last left off at?”

Having been so caught up in admiring the way he stands in the doorway, you startle at the sound of his smooth voice. “Next chapter… R-Right! Yes, of course! I’ll do that. You do your thing. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, he shuts the door behind him. The stiffness in your shoulders ebbs away then, and you slouch back against the sofa. With an embarrassed groan, you drag your hands down your face.

Be normal for one minute, (Name). This isn’t anything special.

Something nudges your thigh and you lower your arms to find Azul’s tsum pushing your textbook towards you. He struggles more than he makes any apparent success, and it’s a cute sight that has a smile sprouting on your lips.

“Thanks, little guy.” You lift the book up to spare him of the burden and set it on the table. A cup of tea rests inches away, steam curling from the liquid in fragrant tendrils. The tsum blinks up at you, wordless like always. “You don’t have to stay for this, you know. I’m sure you’d much rather explore campus.”

The tsum stares and then, as if your words have somehow offended him, he rears forward to knock his head into your thigh again. His fedora falls off in the process, but he pays it no mind and continues to bump into your leg.

“Okay, okay! You can stay.” You laugh and hold your hands up in surrender. “I never said you had to leave.”

Lifting the tiny fedora from the sofa, you place it atop the tsum’s head. It’s uncanny how much of Azul you see in him. Even the beauty mark is in the right place… How peculiar.

Seeming pleased with this, the tsum scrambles to get into your lap. You place your hand under him and help him up. Even though he doesn’t have a mouth, he looks very happy here, bouncing up and down with what you think is a show of enthusiasm.

“You’re adorable, Azutsum. I wish I could say that to your counterpart. He’s great, you know? The most amazing guy I’ve ever met.” You squish Azutsum between your hands and sigh dreamily. “I’m actually not that bad at magic history. I just pretended so I could spend more time with Azul outside of class.”

Azutsum narrows his eyes at you.

“You disapprove?”

He squirms out of your grasp and jumps up towards your chest. You catch him before he can fall back onto your lap. It doesn’t look like open disapproval. Maybe the tsum just doesn’t understand your feelings. You don’t expect him to. If he’s anything like Azul, he’s probably more focused on the lounge or money. Azul did mention he spent a good half of the morning testing the tsum’s affinity for business.

You glance at your textbook. One day you’ll confess. It won’t be today, though. With a sigh, you resign yourself to your reality and place the tsum on the table. You manage to open the book and flick through a few pages before Azutsum pounces on top. He glowers at you, demanding attention. In a way, when he isn’t being expressive like this, he reminds you of a turtle. That thought prompts a chuckle from you and you nudge him away gently.

“I’d love to play more, but I’ve gotta start reviewing. It’ll look odd if Azul walks in and I haven’t made any progress.”

Despite this, Azutsum persists. He prods at your hand, squeaking at you in what sounds like annoyance. A needy thing, this tsum. You’ve never known Azul to be so shamelessly direct, so it takes you by surprise when his tsum rolls around to wrinkle the pages. You gasp just as it tears.

“Don’t be so careless!” You grab hold of the tsum before he can cause further damage to your precious book. Pinching his cheek in light admonishment, you hold him close to your face. “All right, you have my attention. Please don’t destroy my books.”

The tsum beams.

“Aren’t you proud? Seriously… I’m only forgiving you because you look like my crush,” you mutter, your cheeks warming.

If only Azul was this hungry for my attention…

Azutsum wriggles happily in your hands. It’s a challenge to stay angry at such a cute plush. A prisoner to his charms, you pet him affectionately. He seems to bask in your touch, turning over on his back so that you can give his belly the same amount of love.

“Maybe not a turtle. You’re more like a puppy.”

Smiling to yourself, you rub the tsum’s belly. He seems to appreciate the gesture, for he squeaks in excitement. If he wasn’t sentient, you’d probably mistake him for a pillow. He’s soft like one, squishy like a plush. You knead him every now and then, pressing your fingers into his abdomen. You’re sure there’s nothing but stuffing inside, but a morbidly curious part of you wonders if he has organs and blood. Unlikely. But it’s still fun to fantasize over the wildly impossible.

“Do you like that?” You watch gleefully as the tsum squeezes his eyes shut and squirms. His squeaks are loud. “Seems like it. After this, though, I need to get back to work.”

You’re so swept up in toying with the tsum that it shocks you out of your skin when he jumps out of your arms abruptly. You assume he’s gotten tired of the teasing, but then he’s launching himself at you to tackle you onto the sofa. The force knocks you down, and you gasp as the leather cushions cradle you in the aftermath of your fall.

“Hey! What was that for?” You lift your head up to look at him. A familiar weight settles on top of you. “You’re stronger than you look…”

You gaze at Azutsum and the laughter sticks in your throat. There’s a distinctly human cock curving up along the length of your stomach, grotesquely thick and leaking pre-cum, maddeningly disproportionate. Your eyes widen, and a shard of horror lodges itself in your heart.

“W-Wait… Hold on!” You scramble to get away, but the tsum shifts so that the head of his cock presses against your skirt. You yelp when he moves again to prod at your clothed pussy. “Don’t touch there—you can’t!”

He presses inwards, blocked only by your panties, and squeaks sadly. You claw at the sofa, desperate to escape. Azutsum isn’t listening. He continues to rut uselessly between your thighs. Much to your disbelief, the pressure of his cock straining to find its home inside your tight hole leaves you soaking through your panties. If you aren’t thinking about it—about the fact that this insane cock belongs to this little tsum—you almost trick yourself into picturing Azul leaning over you on the sofa. He’d grab your hips, yank you to meet him halfway, slot himself inside slowly… He’d praise you for taking him so well, whisper the sweetest of filth, kiss you dizzy!

That sugar-encrusted delusion shatters the moment his fleshy head catches on your panties. Somehow they’re pushed aside as he bullies his way closer to your cunt. Your eyes snap open just as he pushes inside.

“No, no, no! A-Azutsum, don’t do—ooh!”

Your pleas taper off into a low groan just as he slides in. It feels strange, a foreign fit. Is this really going to be your first time? With withering resolve, you reach for the tsum in hopes of tugging him away from your pussy. He draws back, searching for the right rhythm, and sinks further into wet walls. The breath is punched out of your lungs once he’s managed to fit half of his absurd length inside you.

Tears gather in your eyes. “Take it out… Please… It feels weird and—” he bucks forwards and you suck in a breath through your teeth— “h-hurts!”

Azutsum squeaks softly at you. Consolation? Maybe. Or perhaps it’s a parody of a sweet nothing. How is this possible? He shouldn’t be this big. He shouldn’t even have this anatomy to begin with! Where was he even hiding such a monstrous size?

Your arm falls over your face. Despite everything, the fit is snug. You’re not sure you can take another inch. Azutsum disagrees with this unvoiced sentiment, instead choosing to fuck in and out of you until you’re properly slick. It leaves you shuddering with a strange desire—whether that’s to get away or stay, you can’t determine.

Submitting to your fate—though your hips flinch with every thrust—you allow your mind to wander. You envision Azul and wish he was here in place of this devious tsum. Maybe then you’d be more receptive. Maybe then you wouldn’t be crying. Maybe then the drag of his cock along your walls would actually feel satisfying.

Azutsum’s squeaks join the obscene squelch of skin on skin. It’s noisy and gross. You smell yourself on the air—the unmistakable odor of salt and sin. He fucks like he’s running late, driving his cock as deep as it can possibly go. Your back arches up towards the invisible body that ought to be hovering over you right now. If it was Azul, you’d loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to taste him.

It’s not Azul. It will never be Azul.

All you can do is lie there and take it. At some point, the stretch is less of a pain and more of a unique fullness. It’s not unpleasant, weirdly. Rather, you find yourself grinding down to meet each of his sporadic thrusts, chasing a high that’s so conflicting.

What am I doing? This is so wrong! you think, writhing like a fish out of water. And yet you can’t stop.

“Azutsum, please—” You gasp sharply when he hits a particular spot deep within you, your eyes rolling back into your skull. That’s…not your cervix, is it? There’s no way… Surely he didn’t do that. But then the tip of his cock prods at it again, this time with more insistence, and you throw your head back and howl. “Wait, slow down! Hurts—that hurts!”

Tears trail down your cheeks. You wipe them away to no avail. They just keep pouring, made plentiful by the cock ramming against a place that’s never been reached before. You cry out again when he eases out partially and slams back in with forceful determination. His motions are sloppy now, a stuttering, jerky movement that fills you with more cock than you’ve ever taken in your life before. Your fingers and dildo can’t compare to this—nothing can.

In just a few more riotous strokes, the tsum burrows his cock all the way to the hilt and releases inside with a strangled squeak. Thick, warm cum floods your womb at once, so copious it leaves your stomach with a slight bloat. Dazed, just managing to collect yourself, you press down against your belly to feel the bulge of his cock.

“Please…” you whisper, panting, “pull out already…”

Azutsum starts to do that, only to thrust back in. His cock keeps all of his cum effectively plugged.

“No more… I can’t take anymore. Please…”

But he’s already moving, intent on going at it until his balls are drained and you’re properly filled. In the meantime, you shut your eyes and welcome the chimera of an absentee Azul.

You’re not sure how long it’s been or how many rounds you’ve gone, but by the end of it you’re stuffed. Azutsum finally eases out after so much time spent thrust up inside. Shivering, you peer over the deceptive dome that is your stomach. If anyone were to see you, they’d certainly think you were pregnant and not just packed full of cum. You don’t want to know where such a little tsum gets so much virility. Best not to question it, otherwise you’ll drive yourself mad trying to figure it out.

Azutsum climbs up onto your rounded belly, gazing down at you with newfound fondness in his blue eyes. You’re not sure where his cock’s retreated to now. At least it’s over. Defeated, you reach up and pat his head.

The door to the VIP room creaks open then. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, (Name). Some nuisances—ah, I mean customers—don’t know when to—” Azul chokes on the rest of his sentence, his wide-eyed gaze drawn to you splayed out on the leather sofa. Cum dribbles from your abused cunt, pooling below on the cushion.

You can’t bear to look at him, so you bury your face in your hands. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry! I’ll clean it. Just please… Please don’t look.” Shyly, you squeeze your legs shut in hopes of preserving what’s left of your dignity. You’ve never felt humiliation as hot and heavy as this before.

Azutsum squeaks a joyful greeting.

You can’t see him, but his face has exploded with a fiery embarrassment. He’s doing everything he can to avoid staring at you. No matter how hard he tries, his eyes are drawn to your stomach, to your pussy clenched around nothing and leaking cum, to the devilishly proud tsum perched on top… Most importantly, you miss the way his slacks tighten in the crotch and the way he swallows thickly.

Clearing his throat, his words awkward, Azul says, “P-Perhaps we ought to postpone today’s session…”

It’s for the best. He’s not sure he’d be able to explain his reaction if you were to catch it.

[donatellawritings]

tella baby can i be 🧋anon? and while i have you here i am dyingggg to see how our sweetheart latina would handle rafe when he’s in his mean mood, sending you 💋

of course! i’m going to probably end up making an anon list to keep track lol - sending besitos right back <3

contrary to popular belief, it actually took a lot for rafe to become so annoyed and frustrated with you, that it bubbled into anger, depending on the day. you see, it was rare for you to act out, you were usually so smiley and willing to do anything, as long as you were by his side, but for some reason, you had become the complete opposite — you’d become a spoiled little brat. and it was safe to say that rafe was going to have to put a stop to your unruly behavior, before it became a bad habit.

it all started earlier in the morning, you were dead set on having a girls’ day with kiara, anxious to go shopping on the mainland and carefully examine the turtle eggs that were dangerously close to hatching. you had your outfit picked out - a freakishly short skirt that clung to your curves, the smooth curve of your ass being the only thing that kept the skirt from riding up and revealing your lace thong & a juicy couture baby tee that stuck to your skin, as if you were wet, your unconcealed nipples making an imprint against the flimsy cloth.

rafe knew of these plans, and normally, he was okay with whatever you decided to wear, seeing as he was usually right on your tail, tanned arm wrapped securely around your waist as you made your way through the outer banks. yet, the thought of you prancing your little naively friendly ass through not only the island, but in the far distance of the mainland just didn’t sit right with him. especially, once his eyes fell on how with each movement you made, the under-curve of your ass was starting to become more and more apparent.

there was no chance in hell that he was going to let you go out, at least not in that outfit.

choosing to take the approach of being the sweet and devoted boyfriend, who’d give you everything that you wished for, rafe carefully approached you from behind, gently locking his hands around your hips as you precisely pressed a powder puff under the freshly concealed skin of your under eye, “hi pretty girl, s’this what you’re wearing today?” he questioned sweetly, sliding his arms around your front, earning a blushing close-mouthed smile from you.

you nodded, pressing the powder puff to your opposite under eye as rafe gently pulled you against his chest, making you stand upright against him as he took in the your reflections in the mirror of your vanity, his smile fading as your skirt bunched up at the valley where you hips and thighs met, “i don’t think so, mama,” he decided, condescendingly tapping the exposed skin on the side of your thighs, before pulling away from you.

initially oblivious to just how serious rafe was being, you adjusted your skirt, a forced breathy laugh leaving your swollen lips, “yes, i am,” you playfully bit back, missing the way rafe cocked his head at you as you returned to perfecting your unfinished makeup.

rafe stood dumbfounded, his head cocked to the side as he nodded to himself in disbelief - you had to be fucking with him, this had to be a joke. wordlessly, rafe blamed himself - maybe he spoiled you a bit too much, maybe he was too soft with you, maybe, just maybe, you were just fucking with him and would change into different clothes, before you left, just to get a rise out of him?

you carefully brushed your spoolie through the wispy lashes that enhanced your naturally curled ones, bending over the vanity a bit further to get a close-up look of your makeup. you could feel rafe’s unforgiving eyes burning holes into you as you carefully smeared your sheer pink dior lipgloss across your lined lips, before pulling away from the vanity and turning to face rafe, “rafe, why are you looking at me like that? you’re making me feel bad,” you pouted, your stomach sinking as he shrugged, before making his way out of your bedroom.

“y’wanna go out dressed like that, then do it - but don’t fuckin’ call me when some guy tries taking advantage of your little ass and your cousin can’t protect you,” rafe spoke eerily calmly, his low tone sending a shock to your nervous system as you rolled your eyes, prohibiting the threatening warm tears from welling in your eyeliner laced eyes.

rafe was about two feet out of your bedroom door when he heard you sniffle, “i don’t need you to protect me.” you mumbled boldly, causing rafe to stop still in his tracks, forcing out a dark laugh before he paced backwards into your bedroom.

“what did you just say?” he asked, watching the way you jumped as he re-entered your room, the sight of your skirt riding up, once again, while you threw your necessities into your purse causing his jaw to lock.

your eyes widened, your chest thumping as you could’ve sworn he was out of earshot, choosing to remain silent as you pulled your purse to sit comfortably on your shoulder. your french manicured nails dug into the leather strap of your purse as you kept your head down, forcing your tear-blurred gaze to stay strained on your sandaled feet. it wasn’t until rafe had stood directly in front of you, his rough hand squeezing your cheeks as he lifted your head, forcing you to look up at him.

“i’ve been tryin’ really hard not to lose my patience with you, kid, okay?” he confessed, his shoulders tense as he tightened his grip on your doll face, “watch how you speak to me, before that fucking mouth gets you into trouble,” he added, before hastily snatching his hand away from your face as he backed away from you.

you rapidly blinked away the mascara and eyeliner tinted tears that fought to spill from your waterline as you bit into the sore skin of your bottom lip. you knew that you’d purposely been testing the waters all week with rafe, a sick part of you became obsessively curious to see that other side of him that those closest to you warned you about and were freakishly afraid of. however, a damaged part of you liked seeing rafe let his guard down and assert his dominance over you, behind your cloud tears, you were somewhat enticed by it.

you silently made your way downstairs as the sound of kiara’s car horn blaring accompanied the slap of your sandals against the hardwood floor. rafe closed the distance between you two as you made it to the living room, nudging your chin with the side of his ringed finger, “don’t start crying, you started that shit, y’been acting up all week,” he waved his hand.

you opened your mouth to speak, but were quickly cut off by rafe who beat you to the punch, knowing he’d give in to you the moment he heard your voice, so he placed his titanium debit card into your free hand, before stepping out of your way, motioning his hand towards the front door, “y’don’t need me to protect you, so go,” he spat, even going so far as to walk towards your front door.

“stop it, rafe,” you whined, rushing to grab his hand before he could open the front door, a sharp sniffle coming from your nose as you wrapped your arms around his tense neck, “i’m sorry,” you mumbled into the side of his neck, pressing your glossed lips to the skin. you let out a soft whine when rafe remained still, his arms refusing to enclose around you.

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, standing in the tips of your toes as you tried to pull his closer to you — but rafe wouldn’t budge.

you pulled your head away from rafe’s neck, your once precise eyeliner now slightly smudged as rafe looked down at you, a look of displeasure still painted on his structured face. your soft shadowy eyes welled with tears as you accepted that you had pushed him to this point of silence. rafe remained silent for the sake of not wanting to fully lash out at you, he knew that he could break you pretty easily and figured that he wouldn’t stoop that low, unless he truly needed to.

rafe pulled your arms from around him, his large hands now gripping your wrists, “y’want me to talk to you, princess?” he cooed menacingly, a sick smirk tugging on his pink lips as you nodded furiously.

“okay, tell kiara that you’re not coming out today,” rafe demanded, shaking his head the moment you tried to protest, pressing his forehead against yours as he backed your against the door.

“but she’s already here, an-” you spoke, pressing your lips together as rafe kissed his teeth.

“i don’t give a fuck, tell her-” he pressed his forehead deeper into yours.

“babe, plea-” you cried.

rafe dropped one of your wrists from his grasp, before sliding it behind your head, fjsting a generous amount of your loosely curled hair, tugging your head back, “shut the fuck up, i swear to god i am trying to be fuckin’ nice,” he spoke through gritted teeth, biting back a laugh as he pulled away from you entirely.

rafe ran his hands through his buzzed hair, before turning to face you once more, “get the fuck upstairs!” he screamed, his voice hoarse, “fuck!” he shouted.

your sticky lips parted, you kept your head down as you made your way towards the staircase that led to your bedroom. before you could successfully walk past rafe, he grabbed your waist, his hands closing around your throat, “do you think i’m a fuckin’ joke, like i’m one of these fuckin’ guys that you could just bitch around, huh?” he ranted, your body bent at an uncomfortable angle as he lightly shook you by your neck.

“no,” you cried, your small hand wrapping around his flexed wrist.

“stop fucking with me, a’ight - i don’t want to fuckin’ break you,” he sealed with a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat, his spit making your mouth slippery as some of your own spit made its way down your chin.

rafe roughly pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting your lips as he wiped his mouth, leaving you a dumbfounded mess with your smeared, spit covered lipgloss that smudged onto your chin.

“go upstairs,” he breathed out, walking towards the front door, giving himself the task of telling kiara that you wouldn’t be joining her for today’s festivities.

putting the bratty act to rest, you softly smiled to yourself as you jogged upstairs, your miniskirt riding up with each bounce of your hips.

[emmyrosee]

this is an actual thing that happened to me and my poor friend like, an hour ago lmao

——

It’s been raining for three weeks straight.

On the list of things that make Katsuki angry, rain is high, high up on that list, above most people and most things. Rain feels useless to Katsuki, does nothing but make things wet and gross, and he’ll never forgive the rain for drowning his plants as a kid.

Rain makes him a certain degree of agitated.

You, on the other hand?

“Baby, look! It’s raining!” You beam.

You like it. Freak.

The forecast had no called for rain, nor had his phone given any warnings, but as he paid the bill for lunch, seemingly as soon as the waiter took his card, the rain poured to godlike fury.

Phenomenal.

There’s nothing he loves more on his one Saturday off a month than sprinting through monsoon season in worn down sneakers and your feet padding behind him. There’s nothing he finds more euphoria in than opening the passenger side door for you and feeling the squish of a puddle in his shoe.

And he absolutely, completely, totally understands how on the gods’ decaying, rotten earth, why you enjoy this so much.

At this point, all Katsuki wanted to do was go home, curl up in a ball with you close by and nap all the frustration and cold rain away for the next few hours-

“LOOK OUT!” You scream, and instantly, Katsuki slams on his brakes, nearly flinging you both out the window. His face paled in panic before coming back in a complete anger.

“What the fuck was that!”

“Look!” You whimper, pointing out past the windshield with a worried pout. He squints as best as he can past the pouring rain, to no avail. You groan next to him and quickly leap out of the car to chase whatever you seem to see, making him snarl a firm ‘GET BACK HERE,’ through his teeth. You put your hands on your knees as you look down at the pavement, and he looks around for a oncoming car that you seem to ignore remembering that you’re in the middle of the goddamned road.

“Are you fucking insane?!” He snaps, opening his own car door and getting out to chase you. “You’re going to get sick, and I’m not going to take care of you.”

You pout up at him before fixing your gaze back down at the road, “you were gonna hit him.”

“Hit who?”

“The turtle,” you whine, fixing the hood of Katsuki’s sweater on your head to keep the rain off your face. With a furrowed brow, Katsuki does finally look down to see a small turtle settled in the road, blinking its slimy eyes softly as if half exasperated as Katsuki is.

He sighs in exhaustion, “you made me get out of my car, in the pouring rain, bordering fucking hail, to look at a snapping turtle?” His hands smack his face and scrub it in frustration, “this can’t be my life. There no way.”

“Can we save him?” You ask quietly, clearly very upset by the idea of this little creature being squashed.

“How do you- what- NO!” He snaps, mercilessly. You whimper softly before falling to your knees, water squishing under the bones. He’s got to admit, you do look very sad, but it’s 45 degrees outside and holy crap he’s gonna freeze out here and it’s your fault.

He hears you sigh from under his hoodie, and you reach out to touch the small turtle, only retracting your hand when it lurches out to snap at you.

“See? Why do you want to save this little shit?”

You scoff, “he’s just scared, it’s not his fault.”

“Yeah, snap at you again and I’ll give him something to be scared about.”

This, you give him a small laugh at, and he does sobsr up slightly. Your head turns up to look at him, rain hitting your face and lip still in a small pout. “Please, help me save him, Katsuki?”

Fucking god.

He growls softly, “how do you want me to save him? He’s a snapping turtle, can’t just lift his ass up.” You gnaw softly at your lip before looking back at the small turtle now receding into its shell in fright.

Then, you brighten, “just go home and get a shovel!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not fucking going home, digging a shovel out of the garage, coming back and moving a turtle six feet to the other side of the road. You’re insane- he’ll be fucking fine, babe, let’s just go home.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” you say softly. “I’ll stay here, and if he moves, I’ll call you and walk home-“

“Are you fucking high? I’m not leaving you here, dumbass.”

Looking back up at him, you give him a cocky shrug, “guess you’re picking up the turtle with your hands.”

He could throttle you. Right here, in the middle of the road, right now.

With his patience running thin, and clothes soaked and heavy, he snarls softly before stomping back to the car, whipping out a small blanket he usually keeps for you when you fall asleep. He wraps it in his hands before stepping back over to you and the turtle, scooping the small reptile in his hands and grumbling as he walks it over to the sidewalk, placing blanket and all on the concrete. The turtle squirms and writhes, but once it’s placed on the sidewalk, it quickly scuttles into the mud and grass and far from the road. In the background, you’re cheering and clapping your wet hands, and he’s choosing to ignore you.

He grits his teeth and turns to you, “car. Now.”

“What about the blanket-“

“Car. Now.”

You’re still smiling as you round back to the passenger side of the car, and he hates knowing that you know he’s not completely mad, more talk than anything else.

Little rat.

He get into the driver side of the car and blasts the heat in a meek attempt to get warm, his temples pounding and heart more than ready to just get the hell home.

But his thoughts come to a halt when your arms toss around his shoulders over the center console and kiss all along his neck and cheek and temple.

“My hero,” you coo, pecking softly. “Saving everyone and everything for me. You’re the best ever. My handsome and brave hero.”

“Sit down,” he grumbles, trying to fight the warmth in his face. You ignore him, continuing to hum out praises and loving words as he drives you both home, knowing full well that you both know he’s weak to your pleas and requests and it’s going to be far from the last time he does something like this for you.

Freak.

[bullet-prooflove]

Something Important: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Comes After:

The Farm - Carmen recalls the first day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Prequel to:

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

Carmen spends the entirety of Christmas Day in a state of euphoria because he’s in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you. He doesn’t know how it happened, only that it started with a kiss back in the Beef over some seasonal fruit and now you’re curled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin as his fingertips doodle patterns across your bare skin.

This can’t be my life, he thinks because this shit, it’s just too good to be true.

But it is his life and it gets better because you don’t kick him out when you wake up, instead you take a shower together and your hands on his body, it’s the most sensual fucking experience of his life.

It ends up with the two of you back in bed, his damp curls falling over his features as he kisses every inch of you. He was shy the first time, he didn’t get to experience you the way he wanted, he was too caught up in the vulnerability of the moment, the act of exposing himself to you.

Now he’s bolder with his exploration of you, more focused, more detail oriented.  He spends the next couple of hours mapping you out with his hands and mouth, discovering what makes your breathing hitch, what makes you moan, what makes your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you say his name.

He leaves you sleeping in the aftermath, his lips brushing over your forehead before he searches your kitchen for food. You don’t have much but he manages to cobble together a meal out of what you do have stowed away in your fridge and the back of your cupboards.

“I hope you didn’t mind.” He says when he looks up and sees you lingering in the doorway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt advertising the farm and black panties. “I know it’s Christmas and I didn’t have a gift so…”

He gestures at the food he’s prepared and the smile you give him, it’s everything.

“You are the gift Carmy.” You say, your lips brushing over his cheek and in that moment he realises that you actually believe that, that you believe that he’s something to be treasured, to be cherished.

He makes love to you on the couch after that, your thighs hitched high on his hips so you take him deeper because Carmy, he’s starting to get a little territorial now, he wants to claim you as his own, to be the man that you come home to, the only one you fuck.

“What would you be doing?” He asks you in the aftermath as he lies underneath you, his fingers stroking lightly through your hair. “If I wasn’t here? How would you be spending Christmas?”

“Sleeping.” You tell him, your fingertips tracing over the tattoo on his chest. “I know it’s pathetic…”

“No.” He shushes you, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I get it, I would rather have slept through every single Christmas I had with my family than endure that nightmare.”

He means it you can tell. You’re kindred spirits, the two of you, both fucked up in your own kind of way. Two ruined puzzle pieces that just seem to fit together.

“Carmen.” You say quietly as you meet his gaze. “What am I to you?”

“Something important.” He says softly as he tucks a stand of hair back behind your ear. “Something I don’t have words for just yet.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yorshie]

11 & 10 with Raph, a sort of confession\first kiss type of deal please! I need my boy to discover being loved.

-justalotoffanfic ❤️

Oooooooooooooo. First kiss. I think you might like reading this if you haven't yet, But Also Thank You for Requesting on Blurb Day! Let's have Pining Soft Raph to fight off those Mikey Brooms for a bit, eh? (edit: uh..... I guess this turned out more pining Reader and hopeless kiss. oops) also, sorry i forgot to do this with the other side blog requests but @justalotoffanfiction

Being with Raph wasn't always....a straight line. The curve of progress sometimes doubled back on itself, or stalled for a bit before resuming at a glacial place.

It was easy enough to understand, you thought, watching him move purposefully through his workout, racking weights and eyeing the amount before he slotted himself underneath on the inclined bench. There were things you'd probably never know about, but the few big ticket items you had heard of left several things completely clear.

The Turtles had been hunted, and could be so again in the future. They weren't human, and people sometimes reacted badly to that. And the last thing, probably the root of your problem with Raph, was that there would always be someone 'better' for you, in his mind.

Someone that didn't live in the sewers, that didn't have a shell and a different amount of fingers, someone that didn't tower over you or place themselves in danger over and over again.

He was stubborn, you thought with an exhale, watching him knock off a weight from each side and slot himself under the bar once more, the suicide set causing his muscles to twitch under the exertion.

You watched the tensed line of a vein curling over his tricep, the little hollow below his elbow dipping in and out of existence with each flex. Your eyes followed the strain of his deltoid where it disappeared under his plastron-

"Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?" His gruff voice called, words bitten short from exertion, and you blinked, pulled from your line of perusal.

"What?" You asked back, shifting in your seat, playing innocent even as you drank in his figure again.

"There's something rattling around in that pretty head of yours," He paused, knocked off another pair of weights, and you followed the beads of sweat running down the back of his elbow without conscious thought. "Gotta be something you're not telling me, isn't it?"

Your mouth pulled to the side, not quite a frown, not quite a smirk, and you finally stood when he paused once more, chest heaving as he re-racked the bar and glanced your way.

You could be stubborn, you reminded yourself, but another little voice echoed the words, sounding a lot more sure of itself than the immediate bravado. You could also push too hard.

"I just..." You trailed off, but Raph ducked a shoulder and leaned forward, resting his shell against the bar. He lifted one eye ridge towards you, clearly waiting.

When you still couldn't get the words out, he gestured you over with a jerk of his head, repeated the motion with more sass when you took too long.

When you finally stood in front of him, eyes taking in how his plastron swelled with each breath, the obvious way his arms had all but doubled from the exercise, you swallowed heavily.

Raph snorted at your ogling, one large hand coming up to tuck against your waist. "I uh," He tapped his fingers, slowly, against the back of your hip, obviously thinking, " I don't.... I really don't wanna end up doing the wrong thing here, sweetheart, but-"

He broke off, staring at your face, and you couldn't care less who moved first, just that you did-

And you were both stubborn idiots, it seemed, because you both bobbed when one should have weaved, and the first time you missed completely, lips nudging along cheeks instead of finding each other.

Your fingers found his jaw halfway through his eye roll, and his hand cupped the back of your head through exasperation more so than any tender feeling, but the tiny well of ire at how stubborn he was disappeared the second his lips landed true.

They were wide, and soft, and you could tell he was trying so hard to keep it sweet. After the third tentative scrub you finally lost your patience and opened your mouth to lick against his lower lip, and he pulled back with a grunt and a look in his eyes that promised retribution.

You grinned at him, feeling drunk, and a little bit stubborn yourself.

[ganymede-princess]

A Hazy Shade of Winter | Angus Tully

PART 2

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Angus is literally so mean, but he's like that in the movie anyways.

summary: Carol's parents send her to spend the winter break with her uncle at Barton Academy, and a certain curly-haired boy takes an immediate (dis)liking to her.

word count: 2790

a/n: I watched the Holdovers like 2 nights ago and I’m obsessed with it now so here’s this! Maybe a second chapter coming?

written by @ganymede-princess

Misery. Absolute fucking misery. That’s all Angus could see for the foreseeable future. Just an ocean of black, sticky misery, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. As he settled his bony rear on the hard edge of the ping-pong table and listened to Hunham gleefully dole out their sentences, he thought he would vomit any moment, or drop dead. He kind of hoped he would. He scoured his eyes over the pitiful creatures he’d be bunking with this winter break; two little boys: a religious fanatic and a foreign exchage student, the school’s star quaterback, and fucking Kountze. Five little Christmas orphans. Angus would blame karma, if he believed in that hippy-dippy shit. The most unbelievably unfair part of all this was that he wouldn’t even be able to jack off in peace since all five of them would be bunking in rooms one and two of the infirmary, with Hunham in room four. God knows why they couldn’t use room three, but Hunham seemed determined to avoid any questions pertaining to that.

Just when he thought his holiday couldn’t get any worse, the girl arrived. She skittered in like a mouse, out of breath, red-faced and shaking like a handbag dog. Six little Christmas orphans.

“Ah, you’re here.” Hunham extended his hand welcomingly, and gestured to her to step forward.

She crept over, giving the ping-pong table and couch full of boys a wide berth, then nervously shook Hunham’s hand and scuttled away to sit on the floor and tuck her knees up under the frumpy men’s jumper that swallowed her whole, like a turtle retreating into a shell. She waved at the five of them, cherry lips curling into a tight smile.

“Is that a girl?” Kountze said, loudly.

“Indeed, it is. Students, this is Miss Carol Hunham, my niece. She will be joining us at Barton for the winter break.”

“Teddy Kountze.” The little freak said, practically falling over himself to shake her hand. He looked ridiculous crouching there beside her like he was about to accost a rabbit at a petting zoo. If brown-nosing was a sport, he’d be a world classer. “Wonderful to meet you. If you need a tour guide, come to me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

She nodded in thanks, regarding him with huge puppydog eyes. Angus thought she must be dumb or tongueless. Five-foot-nothing, wearing unfashionably tapered plaid pants and Chelsea boots that were all the rage a decade ago, huge turtle-shell glasses that made her brown eyes bulge out of her head like a salmon… the only cool thing about her was her dirty blonde shag haircut, but even that came across as trying too hard. With that, and those round cheeks and fat mushroom of a nose, Angus almost expected to hear Hunham introduce her as his niece. Almost.

“You’ll be taking her nowhere without a chaperone, Mr Kountze. Now, gentlemen, and lady, off you go to the infirmary building.” Hunham’s one good eye roved over the room, then settled on Angus. “Mr Tully.” He addressed him in his weasley way, voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Be a gentleman and help Miss Hunham take her bags to room three."

Now it made sense why they'd been forced to leave it empty. The little fuck had a whole room to herself.

"I'm not a gentleman." He responded, insolently as possible.

"Then play the part."

"Fine." The ping-pong table screeched backwards as he stood up, grabbed his case and stormed over to the girl who leaped to her feet, eyeing him warily as he marched her out of the room and collected one of her ridiculously heavy suitcases and set off outside with the puppy in tow.

"Um." She began, her voice a pathetic whimper. "I'm Carol Hunham."

"I heard."

"And you?"

"Angus Tully. Are you deaf or something?"

"He d-didn't say your first name." Angus grunted in response. "So, you're- you're holding over?"

"What?" The question was so insipid it made him stop in his tracks and gawk at her. "Of course I'm holding over! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry." She whispered, averting her eyes. Angus felt a rush of regret as her lip trembled, but he swallowed it and marched on.

The air was biting cold, and Angus wished he had two jackets on- or better yet, a hot-blooded model on each arm- but unfortunately he was stuck between this girl making goo-goo eyes at Kountze and her machiavellian gargoyle of an uncle. As the rest of them caught up, his simmering rage suddenly bubbled over and he broke the silence in a voice thick with hatred.

“This is the most bullshit ever! If we have to stay, why’d we have to draw Wall-eye?”

“Uh, y’know he used to be a student, right?” Quaterback drawled.

“Yeah, that’s why he knows how to inflict maximum pain on us, the sadistic fuck.”

“Yeah.” Quaterback agreed with a giggly laugh. “I mean, no offence Hunham, but your uncle sucks.”

“I don’t know him.” The girl had retreated to the fringe of the group, and when she spoke up her voice didn’t command much attention.

“At least we didn’t draw Decker, he’d be perving all over us.” Kountze sidled up alongside her and let his arm brush against her. “And we wouldn’t have Carol here with us.”

Angus rolled his eyes, but felt vindicated when he noticed her pull away from him, almost fearfully.

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second.” Angus leaned up against the pickup at the side of the road and lit up a cigarette, eager to relieve all this tension.

“No, I got something else.” Kountze pulled out a stinking doobie and gestured for his lighter. “Gimme that.”

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here.” He chided. “I don’t wanna get busted by Wall-eye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Angus felt his blood pressure rise. “I just don’t want to get up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

Kountze didn’t bother responding, just blew out a fat drag and smiled in satisfaction.

“Teddy Kountze.” He said, offering the joint to Quaterback and trying to sling an arm around Carol but she sidestepped him to Angus’s amusement.

“Jason Smith.” Quaterback responded with a sickeningly charismatic smile.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Fucking bootlicker. “You wanna hit this?”

He cast a glance up the road, but Wall-eye was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, yeah.” 

He took a puff and offered it to Carol.

“No, thanks.” She held up her mittened hand. “I-I hear pot can give you the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies.” Jason repeated, grinning. “Cute.”

She was sort of cute- Angus begrudgingly admitted now that he’d seen her up close- in that pitiful way that those fucked up little pug-dogs are cute. He wondered if she had asthma. Besides, it’s not like he cared. At least, if somebody like her could be cute, maybe he was too, with his hawkish nose, narrow eyes, five o’clock shadow, gangly limbs, scraggly hair… No, that’s ridiculous. Unless… He wondered if she thought he was.

“It’s mellow stuff, babe.” Kountze assured her.

She blushed and shook her head, then turned her massive obsidian orbs to Angus.

“C-can I…?”

He sighed heavily, arranging his face into a scowl before he handed over the cigarette. She took a dainty puff, then handed it back. He took a drag himself, savouring the knowledge that his lips were touching the same place that a girl’s had just rested.

“More?” He offered it back.

“No, thanks. I don’t really… y’know.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He scoffed and stuffed it back in his mouth. “Such a pristine girl, I bet you never did anything wrong in your life.”

Flushing, she averted her eyes.

“So, how’d you get stuck holding over?” Kountze queried, his demeanor forced casual.

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack,” Jason said cheerfully. “But my dad put his foot down, said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you just cut your hair?” Angus snorted, feeling a fresh rush of anger. How could you throw away a perfectly good winter break just because you’re sentimentally attached to your godamn freak flag?

“Civil disobedience, man.” He grinned.

“I dig it.” Carol spoke up suddenly. “Conformity is a dangerous thing.”

“See, she gets it.” Jason put his arm around her shoulder.

“You like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?” Her blonde lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him. Angus could have puked all over the sidewalk, and Kounze looked like he might actually do it.

“Man, I love ‘em!”

“Almost Cut My Hair?”

“My anthem.” He nodded solemnly. “That album was my whole life last summer.”

“Neat.”

Angus noticed her head tilt to rest on his shoulder as he offered her the joint. This time she took it, allowing herself a long drag. He gritted his teeth and fought off the urge to deck that filthy hippy then and there.

“Anyway,” Jason waved his hand, as if clearing the conversational slate. “My dad’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was kinda hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

Jason’s hand made its way into Carol’s hair, curling a lock of it around his finger. Angus’s fist closed involuntarily while Kountze’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, lip slightly curled in frustration.

“What about you, Mr Moto?” He said, locking onto his target. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, no. My name is Ye-Joon.” The boy explained innocently. “Uh, my family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Kountze laughed and looked around for approval, to which he found none.

“Uh, wh-what’s a rickshaw?” Ye-Joon seemed genuinely baffled.

“You’re an asshole, Kountze.” Angus said darkly. “Your mind’s a cesspool, and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole, Tully?” He sneered back. “You’re the one who blew up history.”

“Hey.” Jason held out his hand gently, then turned to the other kid. “What’s your story, man?”

“Alex Ollerman.” He responded, his voice stronger than the other boy’s. All that faith in a higher power, I guess. “I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?” The kid nodded proudly.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of, like, magic underwear?” Kountze gawped.

“That’s a common misconception.” Alex began. It seemed he had all his bases covered, and he turned to address the Korean kid too, as if he might convince someone to join. “Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when we-”

“Hey, what’s up with the townies?” Kountze interrupted, already distracted by something shiny. Angus was mildly relieved he wouldn’t be hearing any more panty-talk- he’d had quite enough for one day, what with his bathing suit and all- but, his relief quickly turned to annoyance when he noticed the two men coming down the road, hauling a Christmas tree between them.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us.” One of them responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna put it back in the lot.” The other explained. “We do it every year.”

Angus turned back to the group and shook his head darkly.

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

______________________________

Angus didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to be in the infirmary, but when they stepped into the heated building, he might have sighed in relief if he wasn't in such a black mood. His arms absolutely caned from carrying that stupid suitcase, and Kountze had been smack talking the whole way up the hill. He thought the only thing worse than bunking with the two kids would be sleeping in with Kountze while he tries to tickle Jason’s balls. He’d much prefer to cosy up in the girl’s room, irritating as her face may be. He abandoned his luggage outside room two and hauled Carol’s down the hallway while she pattered along at his heels.

"Why do you need two cases, anyway?" He sneered, stealing the comfort of silence. "You can't have that much shit to carry."

"It's-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Well... well, why should I tell you, huh? You're- you're-"

"What? An asshole? A jerk? A philistine, as your mole uncle says? Y’know, I'm pretty sure there's a faculty rule against targeted insults towards pupils."

"You're mean." She admitted in a small voice. "And I don't know why."

"Yeah, well get used to it sweetheart. Just wait till Kountze gets over your gyno-gimmick and starts treating you like he does everyone else, you'll be begging for 'mean.' And by the way, you’re just antagonising him by hanging all over Jason all the time.”

“What’s Jason got to do with it?” She snapped, raising her voice for the first time.

“Aw, I hit a nerve, huh?” He delighted in watching her face turn scarlet.

"Y-y'know, when you stood up for Ye-Joon earlier, I thought you might actually be cool. I'm disappointed."

She said nothing else, just ducked her head and ran ahead to open the door for him. Baffled, he barged past her and dumped the suitcase on the nearest bed.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" He rounded on her, suddenly tired of the way she let him walk all over her. "I mean, other than to ruin the ambience with that hideous sweater-"

That did it. She let out a choking sob and made for the door.

"Hey, hey wait!" He flailed out his long limbs and caught her around the arm, but she wrenched herself from his grip and made off down the hall, away from Hunham and the other boys to Angus' relief. "Carol, wait I didn't mean it."

She didn’t respond, just sped off and careened around the corner. Angus caught up just in time to see the door of the broom closet swing shut. He clucked his tongue and sat down on the hard floor outside, feeling a wave of disgust as he listened to quiet weeping. Gently, he rapped the door with his knuckles.

“Carol?”

“Go away.”

“Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Go away!”

He paused for a moment, and considered his options.

“Your sweater isn’t actually ugly, by the way. I was just ribbing you, y’know? Horseplay?”

“No.” She said firmly, voice muffled through the wood. “No, I know ribbing and that wasn’t it. Y-you were being cruel, and you wanted to see me cry, I know it.”

“What? No!”

“You enjoy it, don’t you? You’re so miserable, the only fun left for you is making everyone else feel as wretched as you.”

He swallowed thickly, feeling a lump of shame coating his Adam’s apple. He took another long moment to collect himself. He resented how easily she read him, but if he wanted to keep her from finking, he’d have to choose his words carefully, and eat a large portion of his pride.

“It’s true.” His stomach roiled in revulsion as he grovelled to her. “I’m sore about holding over, and I wanted to take it out on someone, and you looked like easy pickings. I’m brash, I’m rude, I hate everyone including myself, and I make it everyone else’s problem.”

She paused her sniffling, as if sizing him up.

“Well.” She said thickly. “Thank you for admitting it. That was very… self reflective.”

“I go to a shrink, I kind of have to be self reflective.”

“Ah.” She sniffled. “You can leave me alone now.”

“I would,” Oddly, it felt good to tell somebody… Good enough that he was able to go back to being sly. “But this closet doesn’t open from the inside. Every time we get a new janitor they get locked in here. Happens like twice a year.” She said nothing, but Angus heard her breathing pick up in pace. “I mean, I can always leave you in here.”

“No!” She said urgently. “Let me out, please.”

“I will, if you promise not to fink.”

“I-I won’t fink. If you leave me be, I won’t fink. Pinky promise.”

“Alright. I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible.” He clambered to his feet and opened the door for her. She was already standing, and as soon as she saw the light, she tried to scoot out beside him, but he moved his arm to stop her. “Pinky promise, remember?”

Begrudgingly, she curled her finger around his, then slipped out past him and returned to her room. Angus watched her go, and something broke inside his chest as the door closed behind her.

[leezlelatch]

Petrichor - Part I

Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader - fluff, rainy days, burgeoning friendship Terzo is feeling introspective on a rainy day. Perhaps he doesn’t have to spend it alone?

“What do you think Terzino, eh? Should Papa play tonight?” Terzo watches with a lazy smile as the tuxedoed cat jumps from his perch on the window to settle into his lap. Long fingers stroke delicately through plush fur as he heaves a sigh. “You will be getting hair on my pants, you rascal.”

Terzino blinks slowly, a rumble starting deep in his throat the more Terzo gives him attention. The cat’s nails dig into Terzo’s leg as the little thing gets more comfortable, the man giving a small grimace but making no move to push the cat off. “You know, I am thinking I am getting old.” Terzo glances down at the cat and scoffs. “Ah, do not try to argue. I have more grey hair than I can keep up with.“ He lifts a hand to his neck, his fingers brushing the soft, loose skin. “And may have to consider turtle necks.”

Terzino stands and stretches, his little body shivering, before turning and lying toward Terzo’s knee, facing away from him. “Ah, Terzino, if you turn from me too, I will not know what to do,” Terzo sighs, lifting a hand to drag his fingers through his wavy, black hair. “The Siblings, they like the power. What little I have of it, ha. But one can close their eyes and think of someone else. Do they think of someone else?” His brow furrows, and he glances out the arched window, eyes scanning the manicured lawn. “Perhaps I should take up gardening like il mio fratello.”

He glances down amusedly. “Sì, you are right, amico. I am far too much of a masochist to change my ways now.”

Terzo carefully picks the cat up and places him down, standing from his desk and swatting at his pant leg until most, but not all, of the cat hair is gone. The tinkle of Terzino’s bell sings through the room as he trots away, perhaps to play with one of Copia’s little companions. Terzo places his hands on his hips, looking out the window once more. “I think it is going to rain.”

ᰔᩚ

It was luck, finding this place. The way his shoes clack against old stone, the gilded candle holders on the corridor walls covered in wax from wicks long burnt. Stained glass of varying shades of purple, red, blue, and green. There were some renovations made when the Clergy first purchased the building half a century ago. Cracks filled in the walls, ceilings reinforced, foundation repaired, but they ultimately chose to maintain its old warm charm. This place may have a Catholic history, but Terzo did not view that as bad, or something needing to be cleansed. There was an energy in these old walls, full of the stories of residents long passed who prayed, and hoped, and dreamed for a better tomorrow. It would not do, he thinks, to forget that. No matter if their god was above or below.

The corridor leading from his office transitioned into a breezeway, four pillars covered in the delicate drawings of one of their more artistic Siblings opened into one of the inner courtyards. A perfect place to watch the rain. A crack of thunder rolls across the sky, and Terzo glances up at the swirling clouds, leaning his shoulder against painted vines. It seems, however, that he would not be alone with his thoughts this storm.

You sit on a stone bench just under the roof, your legs pulled up, arms resting on your knees as you hold a cup of tea in your hands. There’s an open book at your feet, and Terzo catches a glimpse of a few words which makes him arch a brow. “Hello,” he says, his accent curling around the words. “You know, I have heard it be called very dirty words, but never ‘velvet wrapped steel.’ That is a new one.”

You glance up, your lips quirking in a half smile. You cross your legs and lean forward, setting your bookmark between the pages and closing your book. “Sort of makes you feel like you’re grabbing a stick shift in an old car.”

Terzo pauses for a moment, just looking at you, before he tilts his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh, dragging out the final note with a shake of his head as he leans forward. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue. “That is very funny. Yes. Well, sometimes it is like handling a stick shift. Satan forbid you stall.”

“Pfft,” you snort and shake your head, your smile growing. You glance up at the sky as another rumble of thunder echoes overhead. Pinpricks of rain dot the ground, ever so slowly increasing. “Come to watch the rain, Papa?”

“It appears we had the same idea,” he nods, watching intently as the rain flicks the leaf of a plant growing in the little garden some of the Siblings tend to. “Perhaps you intended to watch the rain alone?”

“I intended,” you say, tilting your head a little as you regard him with a curious air. “But this is better.” Terzo glances back at you, his heavy brow slanting down. He takes a few steps toward you, slow and deliberate. You take a moment to glance over him, appreciating the slacks, loose black button up, and the brocade evening jacket draped over his shoulders.

“Better how?” He asks, his voice genuinely curious. “And what is that look for, eh? Admiring Papa?” It wasn’t just a superficial question. She could see his face, a rare sight without the paint, the lines deepening around his mouth. His strangely beautiful eyes burn into yours and you understand that he’s serious. It isn’t playful banter.

“I don’t get to talk to you,” you answer truthfully, sincere in the small smile you give him. “Your attention is usually taken, and I understand that there are more Siblings in this building than clergy. You can only get to so many people.” His frown deepens, and you continue. “So it’s nice. It’s nice to talk to you. I want to watch the rain with you.”

“Cara mia, you can request time, you know this, sì? I have office hours. Please do not be thinking you cannot come to me,” Terzo talks with his hands, his fingers waving in the air, punctuating his words. He looks so concerned, his body angled toward you, features twisted in worry.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you adjust on the bench. “I’m okay, Papa, really. I just mean I can’t come by to say hello, or make an appointment only to chat.”

“Why not?” Terzo shoulders rise and fall and he stands with one foot forward, hands on his hips. “You are more than welcome to come and say hello. Antichristus, and here I was thinking I come on too strong. Unless, that is the problem?” He looks at you, and you have to smile from the sheer befuddlement on his face. But you can tell, also, that he’s hurt. And that doesn’t make you feel good either.

“No. Papa-“

“Terzo,” he corrects you, sitting down at the end of the bench next to your feet. He rests his hands on his legs and gives you his full attention, and it’s altogether exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You’ve never spoken to a Papa like this, for this long, outside of anything that really has to do with your duties or other Ministry matters. It makes you blush, and Terzo takes notice, leaning a little closer to watch the pink pass over your cheeks with great interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I would explain if you let me get a word in,” you say, not unkindly, your lips pulled into a gentle smile. Terzo chuckles to himself and nods, waving a hand in your direction, and then he pinches his fingers and pulls them across his lips in a zipping motion. “Thank you,” you continue lightly, laughing. “What I mean to say is, yes, I’m nervous. And it’s not for reasons you think. I don’t think you’re unapproachable. I don’t think you would show me any unkindness or give me reason to believe you aren’t totally invested in what I have to say.”

Your eyes pass over his face, taking in his dark features, and you briefly wonder why he doesn’t wear his paints less. His face is aging to be sure. Pocked and marked and wrinkled, but he is so expressive. So soft in the curve of his mouth. The way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. His white eye, meant to be intimidating, reminds you of freshly fallen snow. The warmth of a cup of hot chocolate on a winter’s day near Yule. It was truly beautiful, and you realize you’ve stopped talking.

But Terzo doesn’t move. He doesn’t prompt you to continue, he just stares back. The rain falls around you in heavy drops, a steady stream that wets the ground and mists your faces as it bounces off the stonework.

“I think I would fool myself into thinking that we could be friends,” you finish, your voice soft, caught in some kind of new understanding, a breath of realization. Terzo tilts his head very slightly, and he pulls in a sigh.

“Friends,” he murmurs, as if the word is foreign to him. His eyes fall away from yours and he focuses on nothing as he processes your words. And then he’s looking back at you and smiling, and it only occurs to you then that you’ve never quite seen his smile reach his eyes the way it does now. “Not many peoples wish to be my friend, dolcezza.”

“You are very frequently surrounded by people.”

“Yes, but what is that saying, eh? You can be in a room of people and still be alone. I am an old man, as much as I cover this face,” he gestures to himself. “Or dye my hair. I have my brothers, sì, but they are not so understanding at times. It has been many years since I have had someone who I can talk to as Terzo and not as Papa.”

“Someone your own age?” You ask quietly, expecting rejection.

His lips soften. “Not necessarily.”

You smile, and look out over the courtyard as thunder once more cracks overhead. The scent of rain and wet soil fills your nostrils, and you feel very at peace. For a moment your heart is full sitting next to this man. “I’m a Sibling, and I know I’m supposed to act a certain way around my authority figures. But sometimes when you’re giving a sermon, or I see you at events, or feast days, I just want to know if you think the potato salad is as delicious as I do, or if you wished whoever was in charge of the playlist would stop, for the love of all that’s unholy, playing Cruel Summer.” You laugh, and Terzo laughs with you. “I want to know who you are, and I don’t know if that’s okay.”

Terzo taps your shoe with an amused smile, and he looks happy. He looks like you just told him he won the lottery, his eyes sparkling with a kind of glee. “You know, just this morning I was talking to Terzino about this very thing. He said I should be more open. Open to change, which I scoffed at. Papa cannot change, not now. Not so late in his life, yeah? But…” He reaches a hand out into the pouring rain, watching the water cascade over his skin. “Rain renews. And I think I am ready for something new.”

He brings his hand back in, and grasps yours, a few droplets falling between you onto your closed book. “It is more than okay, amica. Now, tell me about this smut.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers sliding over his slick skin. You smile. “Your cat talks to you?”

Terzo pinches the top of your hand and you gasp, swatting at him. He laughs, low in his throat, a wild brow arching. “Shush.”

[citruswriter]

Hi! I was wondering if I can request the tmnt bayverse brothers with a kitsune little sister?(reader) just general sibling hc’s ~3~

Bayverse Turtles x Kitsune Little Sister

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Kitsune Reader, Reader has fire based abilities.

A/N: Absatootly! I have a soft spot for Kitsune readers tbh. They're one of my favorite mythical creatures.

Leonardo 🧡

Utterly adores you.

He loves sparring with you especially. Both with and without your flames.

Absentmindedly pets you if you're close to him while he's relaxing, especially if he's reading. He'll just start petting your ears and if you ask nicely, he'll even read out loud to you.

As a highly spiritual being, you often meditate. You're one of the only people allowed in Leo's personal meditation room. You're allowed in at any time. If he's already in there, he'll scooch to the side a bit to make more room for you. But if you're in there before him, he'll give a gentle hello before settling beside you.

As the mother hen of the group, he mothers you. He can't help it. You're the littilest of them all. Of course, he knows better than to underestimate you, but that doesn't stop you from scolding you.

Please ease him into the idea if you have a partner, especially if it's a boy. All he can think about is you and him having sex. You'll need to reassure him and let him know that you're not going around having unprotected sex and risking getting pregnant.

Even if you do dumb shit though, he's the first one to rescue you. You are still his little sister after all. He's had to save his brothers several time and you are no exception.

He will attempt to ground you though. Trust me. If you wanna get out of it, you better hope Splinter doesn't agree with him or else you'll end up double grounded!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael 🧡

His 👏 little 👏 sparring 👏 buddy. 👏

He wants you to go at him with everything you've got. Claws, fangs, fire. Hell, he'll egg you know until you transform into your true fox form. He wants to push both him and you.

He's gotten burnt more than once from sparring with you. Of course, thanks to the thick scales he has, it's not too bad. Some cleaning spray from Donnie and a scolding from Leo and he's all set.

Definitely has a few minor scars from you and wears them with pride. "Yeah this one is from my little sister over there. Got me good."

Knits you little hats with holes for your ears as well as hats specifically designed to comfortably cover them up without squishing them too badly.

Is on the front lines with Leo if you get a boyfriend. But while Leo is fretting over you, Raph is having a little talk with your boyfriend. Shotgun? Ahahaha. No. His fists are bigger than his head and he will use them.

The two of you are always getting into mischief together. Do you two get scolded by Leo? Yes. Do the two of you get grounded together? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Totally.

Not uncommon for you to sit all curled up in a miniature version of your fox form on his lap while he watches a show or knits. Just don't paw at his yarn.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Donatello 🧡

Uses you like you're a welding machine. I'm not even kidding. Hey. He needs these pieces fused and you just so happen to have fire abilities. Might as well put em to good use.

It's not uncommon for him to find you sleeping in your mini fox form under his desk. All the equipment warms up the space down there and it makes a cozy little nook down there for you.

He did learn the hard way that he needed to check under there though. Let's just say he found your teeth in his ankle after he accidentally kicked you once. Yeah. Not a pleasant experience for him.

Will ask for your help with projects. Your tiny fingers are pretty useful at times.

Sometimes Leo wants the meditation room to himself. In those moments, you'll actually go to Donnie's lab and meditate there. If he's not building something, it's actually pretty quiet in there. Perfect for your next thirty minute meditation session.

Will probably be the most receptive of you getting a partner, regardless of gender. Will make it clear that if something goes down, that you're always safe to come to him without judgment.

Likes to groom your fur. He enjoys taking all sorts of fancy brushes and products to them. If you'll let him, he'll take pet friendly dye and dye pretty patterns in your fur.

Is the one that usually gets you out of trouble. He won't help you if you've genuinely fucked up, you need to learn your lesson. But if Leo is being overbearing again then he's usually the first one to talk him into getting you out of trouble. He needs his little helper!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Michaelangelo 🧡

Pranks. That's it. That's the post. Jk. But seriously, you're his little prankster buddy.

Your mini fox form is super handy for setting certain pranks and he always manages to bring you on board with whatever evil plan he has.

Loves sparring you, especially in your fox form. Not a big fan of the fire though. He won't admit it but the flames freak him out a bit.

Do not think that this man won't snitch you out. If he's going to the ha'shi, so are you bitch! Ain't no way he's going in alone! *raises frying pan* Snitches get stitches.

Will take full advantage of your bigger fox form. Please he's just so cold, won't you warm him up? It's just for a few minutes, he promises!

Loves playing video games with you but will absolutely laugh and rub it in your face when he kicks your ass.

Beware if you get a partner. He will recruit them into the prankster brigade and he will convince them to team up with him against you. You are not safe.

Absolutely teases you for being the youngest. But don't worry, he probably loves you the most too. You're just his little sister and you mean everything to him.

And there we go! Not my finest work *sobs* but I still like it. :D

[dandylovesturtles]

It's time! For Room Fic Part 4 Part B! Of how many parts? IDK ANYMORE

This is the longest part of the fic yet, and it's also the most... talky. But I felt like this was a part of the recovery everyone wanted to see so I thiiiink it's fine.

Content warnings: vomiting, HEAVY discussion of eating issues (including calorie counting, done purely as a recovery mechanism in this fic but still worth noting), mentions of the non-consensual voyeurism that happened in the first part, and as always, anxiety and aftermath of torture

If you're lost, start here!

I'm soooo tired I only proofread like half of this. it'll go through full editing when it goes on AO3

-----

Leo crashes into his room and grabs anything within arm’s reach to pull over himself. The blanket from his bed. A cardboard box, contents dumped on the floor. His skateboard, a beach towel, a plank of wood used to prop up action figures.

He cowers into his claustrophobic, makeshift nest, clutching his ill gotten gains to his chest. He doesn’t know why he bothered, because there’s nowhere to hide in here, and then they’ll…

They’ll do what? It’s his family. And if they’re upset with him for stealing the chips, well, he deserves that. Who is he to take food, when they’re running low already?

That’s what he expected, actually, when the lights flipped on and Raph was standing there. To get yelled at, chewed out, dressed down - the way he’d been waiting for Raph to do this whole time. Why can’t he just do as he’s told? Why does he always make the wrong decisions?

But Raph hadn’t yelled. He ran off. And now Leo doesn’t know what to expect at all.

He assumes Raph went to get their dad, or even Draxum. He waits in his hiding spot, heart pounding in his ears, and listens for the call of his full name, the surefire indicator that he’s in Big Time Trouble. He stole food, food he isn’t even allowed to eat, and when they’re running low, too. He doesn’t know what the punishment is going to be, and the fear of not knowing pulls him deeper into his nest.

He wants to know. He dreads finding out.

Time passes. He has no idea how much. There’s no clocks in here (there hadn’t been any clocks in there), and his phone is on the nightstand, hooked to its charger. To get it he would have to leave his hiding place. And he’s scared.

So he waits and waits and waits. Until his limbs grow uncomfortable and cramped, until no amount of shifting dulls the pain. His heart is still rabbit quick in his chest. (He may be a turtle but call him the hare-)

No one comes for him.

Finally, finally, when his body physically can’t take this position anymore, he scoots out of his hiding spot and gets to his feet, bag of chips clutched in his fingers. He walks to the curtain over his doorway - though “walks” is really overselling it, with the way he pauses for hours between every step.

When he makes it to the doorway, he peeks out.

The lair is quiet. Everything is dark. No one is stirring.

He makes his way back to his bed, and looks at the bag in his hands. He feels so anxious that he’s nauseous. And he can’t eat if he’s nauseous or he’ll lose his dinner.

So he can’t even eat the damn things. The irony would be funny if he could laugh.

He kneels down and fishes around under his bed for a box he knows is there. It’s full of little toys and trinkets from childhood - things he saved from the old lair that he couldn’t bear to throw away, but is too embarrassed to be seen with.

He dumps the contents of the box into the bigger one he hid under earlier. This is more important.

Then he hides the chips inside and scoots the box under the bed.

He climbs back onto his mattress, cringing when the bed springs creak. His blanket is still on the floor, but he doesn’t want to get up and risk making more noise.

So he curls up on his mattress and stares at the wall and tries futilely to sleep.

Donnie’s brand new curtains don’t even help. Maybe that’s part of his punishment.

-----

Somehow, he manages to make it to breakfast. He doesn’t remember who poked their head in to tell him it was ready, or how he picked himself up and walked to the kitchen. He just ends up there.

Mikey greets him with a sunny grin and the announcement that he gets oatmeal today, along with his scrambled eggs. There’s even some banana on top of the oats. He should be excited for the variety, but he feels numb. Still, he smiles as he’s expected to and thanks Mikey and hopes it passes scrutiny.

Draxum comes in, and then his dad. He stiffens up for both, muscles tense while he waits for the yelling to start. But no one starts yelling. Draxum sits and eats and Leo hears him give a reminder to take vitamins. Splinter reads out the shopping list, and everyone scrambles to add last minute items. 

Normally, this is where Leo would be chiming in with all the snacks and junk food he wants, but he knows if he says anything he’ll be turned down, so he doesn’t. He can feel the weirdness of it, but he doesn’t take his eyes off his food to see anyone’s appraisal.

Donnie’s last in; he drinks his coffee fast and tries his luck with adding uranium to the list. He grabs a granola bar instead of eating what the rest of them are having, then tells Mikey to meet him at the entrance in five minutes and leaves. Mikey piles the dishes in the sink, then rounds the table to give everyone a hug goodbye, Draxum included.

Leo smiles when Mikey gets to him. Says, “Have a good day, Mikester.” Swallows down the impulse to grab on and beg him to stay.

He finishes breakfast, then goes to the TV room and settles into the recliner. Raph comes by and pats his shoulder and tells him to call if he needs anything. Splinter hops up and pats his head before following Raph away.

He’s alone now. Alone, with Draxum, who’s currently in the kitchen doing who knows what.

(Leo doesn’t like leaving him alone in there. All their food is in there.)

(Well, not all of it. Leo’s made sure of that.)

He lays in the chair and pretends to be asleep. And he listens. 

To be sure that his brothers and dad are really gone, and aren’t coming back for a forgotten wallet or phone.

Until Draxum leaves the kitchen and moves for the train car he’s taken over as his own.

Until he’s sure no one is watching him.

Then he gets up. He goes to his room. He’s not sure why he feels like he’s sneaking, when he’s obviously allowed to be there.

He makes sure all his windows are covered, curtains or otherwise. Makes sure the curtain over his door is stretched as far as it will go.

Then, as silently as possible, he reaches under his bed and pulls out the box. Opens it to reveal his stolen goods.

He unrolls the top of the bag, wincing at each crackle of the plastic. His eyes dart to the door, to the windows, to make sure no one is there, no one is watching him.

Then he reaches his hand in and grabs a chip in his fingers.

He’s not sure if he should do this now. Maybe he should wait, save this when things get dire. But everyone is gone. They’ve left him alone, with Draxum. What if Draxum doesn’t let him eat, with no one here to step in?

He’s scared of being hungry again. He doesn’t want to go back to that place. 

Just a few, he tells himself. Just a few, and then he’ll stop.

He pulls the chip out of the bag, and takes a bite.

-----

They’re at the local grocery where no one asks questions, basket half full and three minutes in to Splinter trying to decide if the Buy One Get One Half Off deal for frozen dinners is really worth it or not, when it occurs to Raph that maybe they shouldn’t have all left at the same time.

Of course, in normal times this wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, especially with a nominally responsible adult in the lair. But times haven’t been normal for over two weeks now. The thin shell of his little brother, once always the biggest and loudest in the room, now trying to make himself as small as possible, isn’t normal. 

They got Leo back, but it still feels like someone else has him.

And now Raph feels guilty. He’d been so desperate to just get away, from the feeling of being inadequate, from the fear he’d make things worse, that now he’s probably made them worse anyway by leaving Leo alone with a guy he does not like. Raph should have stayed home. Or told Mikey and Donnie to wait until he and Splinter were back before leaving.

(That worries him too, for different reasons. He knows he can’t lock his brothers up in the lair to keep them safe. But he kinda wants to.)

But he didn’t do any of that, and now they’re out and Leo is alone. Raph thinks of the chip bag and sighs. He just can’t seem to make the right decisions. The calculus is overwhelming, and Raph’s always left math to Donnie.

“Hey Pop,” he says, watching Splinter flip his fourth TV dinner over to look at the nutritional information. “Do you think… Leo is gonna be okay?”

Splinter pauses, then gingerly puts the box into their basket. He pats Raph at the knee, and Raph feels the overwhelming desire to be small again. 

“...Yes, I do. It will take time and care, but I think, one day-”

“No,” Raph cuts in, “I mean, do you think Leo is gonna be okay today? I mean, we kinda just ran off and left him alone.”

“He is not alone.” Splinter makes a face, at odds with his words. “Baron Draxum is the most annoying man in the world, but he would not let harm come to you boys.”

Raph rubs his neck. “Sure, but… Leo’s not exactly Draxum’s biggest fan. Especially not now…”

“Blue does not have to like him,” says Splinter airily. “He just has to eat the food Draxum gives him.”

“Yeah, but that’s the whole problem,” Raph insists. “He’s bein’ a huge jerk about it.”

“Ah… I know. I have spoken to him about his… tone.” Splinter waves a hand. “He is trying to be more polite.”

Raph thinks back to breakfast this morning. He’d laugh if anything were funny right now. “Is that why he was all “please” and “thank you” and “sorry” this morning? He looked like he ate a lemon.”

And judging by how distant Leo was acting, he doubts any of it made an impression. 

“It just proves that the man is incapable of being nice!” Splinter chuckles. “Do not worry, Red. We will only be gone a few hours. Most likely, Blue will sleep until we are back.”

“Raph hopes so…”

They continue moving around the aisles, crossing things off their list as they do. It’s normal and boring and Raph thinks he needs that right now. If only it distracted him from the thoughts in his head…

There’s so many questions to dwell on. And the biggest one looms over them all, constantly drawing Raph’s attention back to it.

They’re in the soup aisle when he speaks up again, saying, “Hey, Pops, do you think…” and then flagging out before he can voice it.

“Often,” says Splinter, reaching for a can of tomato bisque. “But at my age, it can be difficult!”

Raph snorts despite himself, grabbing the soup can and passing it to his dad’s fingers. “Come on, Raph’s trying to ask a serious question here!”

“Hm.” Splinter puts the can in their basket. “Then I will give a serious answer.”

“Do you think…” Raph shifts the shopping basket from one hand to the other, and resolves not to chicken out this time. “Do you think Leo did the right thing? Not talkin’ to that Bishop guy?”

Splinter goes quiet for a long time. He points to a can of alphabet soup, the kind Leo insists he’s too old for but will happily eat when he’s sick, and Raph dutifully puts the can in the basket.

“…I think he did the brave and noble thing,” he says at length.

“That ain’t the same,” says Raph.

“I do not know if there was a right thing.” Splinter’s voice is sad, fingers idly stroking one of the soup cans. “It could be that if Blue had talked, he would not be as hurt as he is now. Or it could be that Bishop would have… disposed of him, once they had what they wanted.”

The idea of Bishop “disposing” of Leo steals Raph’s breath. But it’s not like he hasn’t thought of this before.

“April said pretty much the same thing.”

“Oho! April is very wise.” Splinter nods in satisfaction, affirming for Raph once again that his favorite kid is definitely April. But then he looks up at Raph sidelong and says, “But that answer does not satisfy you.”

Raph sighs. “It’s just… what if he thought he had to stay quiet, because of something I- because he thought it’s what he was supposed to do?”

A furry hand lands on his. Raph takes a deep shuddering breath, and uses his free hand to scrub at his eyes. They’re damp, suddenly, and he’s not sure when that happened.

“…I often worry the same thing,” says Splinter, “about all four of you.”

Raph doesn’t know what to say to that. He already knows that their dad would give anything for the four of them to not have to fight; he also knows it’s out of his dad’s hands.

Why can he accept that, but not accept the same for himself?

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for your question,” says Splinter, pulling Raph back to the grocery store. “I want you boys to be safe. But the situation Leonardo was in afforded him no safety. I’m not sure there is a choice he could have made that would have helped him. Still…” Splinter sighs. “It could be the reasons he made the choice he did are troubling.”

“Yeah,” says Raph. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Mm.” Splinter pats Raph’s hand. “Your questions and worries are wise ones, Raphael. Meditate on your answer, and when you are ready, share it with Blue. You will find your path forward together.”

Raph chews on his lips. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess up,” he admits.

“Sharing the truth in your heart is never a mistake,” says Splinter, “so long as you are doing it with love.”

Raph blinks at him. “Pops, isn’t that a line from one of your movies?”

“It is a good line! Very heartfelt.” He picks up another can of soup and tosses it into the basket. “As long as you are talking to Blue with love, you will do just fine, Red. And remember, this is not your sole responsibility. We are all here to help each other.”

It should be self-evident, but the reminder pulls some weight off Raph’s shoulders. It’s not just up to him. Everyone is coming together to help Leo. That’s why Donnie and Mikey are at the scrapyard, to finish making curtain rods for Leo’s room. That’s why Draxum is always researching and scribbling in his notebook, refining his meal plan for Leo’s recovery.

It’s not just Raph against the world. He isn’t alone, and neither is Leo.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Pops.”

“Of course, Red. Now, let’s keep moving or we’ll be late getting back!”

On their way to the checkout line, Raph spots the candy aisle, and a bag of hard, sour candies. He stops, reaching out and brushing the bag with his fingers.

“Mm… that is Blue’s favorite, isn’t it?” asks Splinter.

“Yeah.” Raph pulls the bag off its hook, holding it over the basket uncertainly. “I know he can’t have ‘em yet, but he’ll be able to eat normal stuff soon, right?”

“Right.” Splinter nods. “Put them in! We will hide them until Draxum says it is okay, then give them to him.”

Raph grins and drops the bag into the basket. At least it’s something to look forward to.

-----

Leo is halfway through the bag of chips when the curtain to his room is pushed aside and Draxum is standing there.

He was saying something about the vitamins Leo forgot to take as he came in, the little blue pill organizer clutched in his hand. But now he freezes, taking in the scene: Leo with a handful of sour cream and onion chips, his cheeks bulging slightly, the salty evidence tracking up the sleeve of his hoodie.

He’s crossed the room before Leo can blink. He grabs Leo’s wrist, and Leo cries out, twisting his arm to try and free himself.

But he can’t, he’s weak, he’s so weak-

“What are you eating!?” Draxum bellows. He tosses the pill organizer onto Leo’s bedside table; one of the lids pops open and there’s little plinks as vitamins scatter. “How much of this have you had!?”

He wrenches the bag out of Leo’s grip, and Leo yelps again as he loses the food. The only food he had, and now Draxum has it and Leo is going to-

“This bag is over half empty,” snarls Draxum, waving it in Leo’s face. Leo doesn’t have the presence of mind to defend himself, because he’s still trying to wrench his wrist free. He claws at Draxum’s arm with his free hand, and somehow it gets Draxum to let go; he jerks away with a gasp, dropping the handful of chips to the floor, and at the same time the ones already in his mouth leave painful scratches down his throat and lodge there. Leo doubles over and wheezes in a desperate attempt to get air.

“Are you- Leonardo!” Draxum looms over him, and Leo doesn’t have the strength to flee. He can’t do anything as Draxum strikes him, once, twice, three times on the shell in big, open-palmed slaps.

A white-hot cough rips up Leo’s throat, and he spews the half-chewed potato chips across his blanket, bits of drool and spittle dangling from his lips and tears rolling down his face. He sucks in a deep breath as feeling returns to his limbs.

The hand that hit him moves toward him again, and Leo dodges this time, flinging himself off his bed and into the floor, scrambling backwards to put distance between himself and his attacker.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he shouts, hand flailing for his swords and not finding them. Where did he put them? Where did they take them?

“Leonardo-” 

Draxum takes a step toward him, and Leo pushes to his feet, grabbing for anything nearby to defend himself. But there’s nothing, nothing, where are his swords-

“Leonardo,” says Draxum more firmly, and he takes another step forward. “Stop this, you’re going to hurt-”

“No!” Leo presses himself back against the bookcase on the far wall, the metal shelves biting into the skin of his arms. “No,” he repeats, and a high, manic laugh bubbles through his throat. “You took my food.”

“This,” Draxum shakes the bag, “is all empty calories. This is not going to help your recovery! Why can’t you just do as you’re told-”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Leo spits. He feels stronger than he did a moment ago, pushing himself off the bookshelf and standing on steadier legs, squaring up against Draxum. “Just do as I’m told?” He laughs, a cold sound. “Just like Bishop wanted.”

Draxum stiffens. Something about his expression is… weird. If Leo didn’t know better, he’d almost say Draxum looks scared. “Do not compare me to him,” he says, and his voice is much lower than it was a moment ago. “I am trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Leo holds out his hand, taking a step forward. “Then give me my food back.”

Draxum watches him, gaze unwavering. He holds the chip bag closer to his chest. “I cannot.”

Leo barks out a laugh, high and cold. “I knew it. You’re just lying to me.”

Now he’s the one advancing on Draxum, slow but strong steps, one at a time. Draxum does not move.

“Leonardo-”

“I’m on to you,” says Leo. His voice is a chilly sing-song. “You’re sooo happy to have everyone out of the house. Now there’s no one to stop you from torturing me. Now you can watch me suffer.”

“I do not want you to suffer,” says Draxum, his tone measured. He still hasn’t moved an inch, even though Leo is right in front of him now, within striking distance. 

“Then why did you take my food!?”

“This is not good for you,” says Draxum. “I’ll feed you a healthy lunch in two hours.”

“Yeah?” Leo shakes his head. “What do you want me to do for it?”

Draxum’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. Tell me.” Leo grins. It hurts his face. “Want me down on my knees? Want me to beg?”

Draxum’s face goes a shade paler. “No,” he says, firm. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” says Leo. He laughs again. “I don’t. I don’t BELIEVE YOU!”

His fist connects with the glass- but it’s not glass, it’s Draxum’s face, and he goes sailing across the room like a rag doll. He slams back first into shelving, and there’s a clatter as Leo’s possessions tumble and fall around him.

He looks at Leo, eyes wide but expression steady, despite the fact that Leo just…

Leo… doesn’t know what just happened.

He shouldn’t have been able to hit that hard. He shouldn’t have been able to hit at all- Draxum should have blocked that, should have fought back, should have… should have…

“...What?” says Leo, and it comes out with a crack down the middle.

Draxum watches him a moment longer. Then he sighs and pushes himself off the shelves, getting back to his feet. He doesn’t come closer. “I cannot give you these,” he says, indicating the bag. “But I will not fight you.”

“...Why not?” Leo asks, because it just doesn’t follow anything he thought was happening here.

“Because I care for you,” says Draxum simply. Like it’s obvious.

“...I don’t understand,” Leo says, because he doesn’t.

Draxum nods. “That’s because I haven’t properly explained it to you. I didn’t think it was necessary… but it was. Is.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, starting to glow red from Leo’s punch. “I’m very sorry for that, Leonardo.”

Leo stares. Draxum is… apologizing? He should be attacking, fighting back, not apologizing!

The adrenaline leeches out of Leo, leaving him sagging in the middle of his room - his messy room, with everything thrown around like it’s in an active war zone. A million emotions are running through him, his dying rage warring against the confusion and the beginnings of remorse, a roiling mix that leaves him feeling sick to his stomach.

…Oh wait, no. He’s actually sick to his stomach.

Leo clamps a hand over his mouth, and Draxum is moving again - more calmly, this time. He drops the chip bag on the floor and grabs the wastebasket Leo has sitting by what could generously be called a desk. He holds it out, just in time for Leo to lose his breakfast and all the chips he just downed.

Leo hovers over the wastebasket until he’s empty, until he’s spit a few times to try and get rid of the taste. Then he wipes his mouth on his palm and looks up at Draxum warily.

“Are you finished?” Draxum asks.

Leo shrugs. Draxum takes that as an affirmative and lowers the wastebasket to the floor by the doorway.

“Why are you helping me?” Leo asks.

“I’ve been helping you this whole time,” says Draxum, and it’s only the exasperation that manages to break through that makes Leo think it’s - maybe - not a lie.

“Why?” he repeats, more urgently. 

“Because you are my son.”

Leo steps back, his knees knocking into his bed. He sinks down onto the mattress, balling himself up until he can wrap his arms around his knees. 

“No,” he says. “Mikey’s your son. Raph and Donnie, they’re your sons.”

A look passes over Draxum’s face. It’s… sad.

“You are my son, too.” Draxum takes a step toward him, then seems to second guess himself and stops. “I know we don’t get along. But the fear that froze my chest when they told me you were gone couldn’t mean anything else.”

Leo stares at Draxum, searching every part of his expression for any hint, any suggestion, that he’s lying. He waits for Draxum to change his tune, to start yelling again, to hit him, to do something.

Draxum doesn’t. And Leo sags on the bed. The feeling of fear with nowhere to direct it leaves him floating.

“I’m going to explain everything to you now,” says Draxum. “But I need to get a few things first. Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?”

Being alone for a few minutes sounds great; Leo needs to pull himself together. He nods.

“Good.” Draxum stoops and picks up the wastebasket, then the bag of chips, and the chips that fell on the floor. “Answer your phone,” he says, “before your brother comes back to skin me alive.”

Then he leaves the train car. It’s only then Leo realizes his phone is ringing - has been ringing.

He scrambles to pick it up, seeing Raph’s name and picture lighting up the screen. Raph, who is supposed to be getting groceries, because they’re running low.

Raph, who apparently didn’t rat him out about the chips.

Leo shakily presses the answer button. Then he takes a deep breath and swallows to try and calm his voice.

Then he does what he does best and starts talking.

-----

“Heeey, bro,” says Leo, and Raph wants to weep with relief.

He’s two full blocks away from the grocery now, headed for the manhole cover closest to the lair. Their groceries are somewhere on the street behind him, and Splinter is held tight in his other arm. When Leo didn’t pick up right away, Raph started moving.

He felt it, after all: not as strong as the first time, not as desperate or afraid, but still there. Leo, terrified and alone and angry, crying out for help.

Leo hadn’t answered the first four calls, and the worst scenarios are still playing out in Raph’s imagination, even though he can hear Leo now.

“Leo!” he cries, and nearly fumbles the phone. He hits the speaker button, lowering it so Splinter can hear, too. “What happened!? Are you okay!? We’re on our way back right now!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says Leo, and his voice is scratchy and hoarse, but trying to be placating. “What are you talking about, big guy?” He sounds shaky, like saying those words in that tone is taking so much effort, and Raph wants to hit something until it breaks. 

“Just tell me what happened,” he says, trying to sound calm and failing. Splinter pats his arm and speaks up.

“We just need to know if you are alright, Blue.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” says Leo, his voice cracking a bit on the last word. He clears his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Raph falters, staring at the phone. Does Leo not know? Could Leo really not feel himself doing that?

He gives his dad a helpless look. Unfortunately, Splinter looks just as helpless. Raph dithers on his answer too long, finally choking out, “Raph just… got a bad feeling.”

“You get bad feelings over everything.”

(Raph wishes he did. Then he would have gotten a bad feeling when Leo went to Run of the Mill on his own.)

“This was just… a real bad feeling.”

“Leonardo,” says Splinter softly, “are you certain you are okay?”

“Yeah,” says Leo, and he doesn’t sound like he’s okay, but like an actor pretending to be someone who’s okay. “It’s… Look, me and Drax got in a fight, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

“He fought you!?” Raph shouts. Someone across the street gives him a weird look.

“Not physically!” says Leo hastily. “Not- I mean- he didn’t- it’s not like he would hurt me, right?”

It sounds a little too much like an actual question, and Raph feels queasy.

“He better not, or Raph’ll hurt him.”

“Red,” says Splinter softly. Then he says, into the phone, “No, Blue. He will not hurt you.”

“...Right,” says Leo quietly. “Yeah. He won’t.”

Raph breathes shakily, trying to quell the urge to pummel a car parked on the side of the road into scrap metal. “Listen, we’re on our way back right now, okay? Just give us-”

“You got the groceries already?” Leo interrupts. He sounds so fragile.

Again, Raph looks helplessly at Splinter. This time, Splinter steps in.

“We’re getting them right now, Blue. Then we’ll be on our way back.”

“...Yeah. Cool. Good.” Leo clears his throat again. “Then… see you guys in a few?”

“...Yeah,” says Raph, at a loss. “A few.”

“Okay. Well. Bye.”

He hangs up. Raph doesn’t move the phone, staring at it long after the screen goes dark and Leo’s smiling face disappears.

“Pops, we’re not really going back for the food, are we?”

“He’ll be upset if we come back without it.”

Raph knows he’s right. He knows that. But everything in his body is screaming to get back to Leo right now, not to leave him alone for another second.

“We can’t all run off and leave him again,” he says.

“Yes,” agrees Splinter. “You are right.”

Raph nods. Then, even though it tears him apart, he turns around and starts walking back to the grocery store. He hopes no one spotted their bags and took them, or they’ll have to start over. They’ll have to leave Leo alone even longer.

“He hated being alone as a kid,” he says.

“I know,” says his dad.

“We shouldn’t have left him today. I knew it.”

“Yes. You were right.”

Raph feels a little mad at Splinter then, that he didn’t think through the consequences. Splinter said this isn’t on Raph alone, but if he’s the only one thinking about the wellbeing of his brothers…

His brothers.

He puts Splinter down, then unlocks his phone again. “I’m gonna call the other guys. They probably felt that, too.”

“A good idea,” says Splinter. Raph nods at the approval, then clicks Donnie’s contact.

Thankfully for Raph’s anxiety, he answers on the second ring. “Hello you are now conversing with Donatello,” he says in a rush, following up with, “What happened to Leo!? Are you home!?”

“No, but I talked to him,” Raph reassures him quickly. “He says he and Barry got in a fight.”

“A fight!?” Donnie echoes. “Aha! I knew he’d turn back to supervillainy one day! You owe me twenty bucks!” A pause, and then Donnie says, “Wait, is Leo okay!?”

“No,” says Raph honestly, “but I think it’s just a normal sort of bad. It wasn’t that kinda fight.”

“Ah. An emotional fight…” Donnie sighs. “But it was bound to happen, I suppose.”

“…Yeah,” Raph agrees, even though he thinks there must have been something they could have done to prevent it. He thinks about the chips again. He doesn’t know what the right thing was, still. “You felt it, right?”

“Yes. It wasn’t as strong as the first time, though.”

“What about Mikey, did he feel it, too?”

“Probably.”

Raph frowns. “You don’t know?”

“I am not Micheal.”

“…So can you ask?”

“I suppose I can text him for you.”

Raph nearly drops the phone. Then he glances down at Splinter, looking for any hint that he’s listening into Donnie’s half of the conversation.

“Why don’t you ask him, since he is right there with you where he is supposed to be!?”

“H-huh? Oh. Oh, yes!” Donnie chuckles nervously. “The buddy system, where he is my buddy, and stays in the same place as me and doesn’t go anywhere else.”

“Right,” hisses Raph. “That buddy system.”

“Yes! Well. He iiiis…n’t with me, but! He is. Here. On the other side of the junkyard!”

Raph rubs the bridge of his nose. “Well, tell him to get back from the other side of the junkyard right now so he can be with his buddy!”

“Yes, I will do that. Right now. And then we’ll be together because we’re in the same place, haha, but I’m so very busy right now goodbye Raphala!”

He hangs up the phone. Raph scowls at it.

“Is everything alright?” asks Splinter, and Raph wants to rat them out, just for a moment, but he ain’t a snitch. Even when he thinks his brothers are being unbelievably stupid.

“Everything’s fine, Pops,” he says, quickly opening his text thread with Mikey.

boy you better get your butt back to D right now or so help me you will NOT like what comes next

Then he gives Splinter a strained smile and repeats, “Everything’s fine! Let’s get those groceries!”

-----

When Draxum comes back, he’s carrying a plastic baggy, a bottle of Gatorade, and a whiteboard under his arm. He requests permission to sit on Leo’s bed, and Leo nods reluctantly.

He sets the whiteboard to the side, then opens the Gatorade and passes it to Leo. Then he opens the plastic baggy and holds that out, too.

There’s crackers in the bag. Leo takes them, a little stunned.

“I can eat these?” he asks.

“They’ll help settle your stomach,” says Draxum. “It’s not good for you to eat too much, but it’s also not good for your stomach to sit empty.”

Leo cautiously takes one of the crackers out, watching Draxum as he does. When no hand reaches to stop him, he takes a bite, chewing slow. He still feels a little nauseous, but the familiar texture and taste of the cracker soothes him somehow.

“Good,” says Draxum, propping the whiteboard on his knees and popping the cap off a marker. “Take sips of the drink, too. You need the electrolytes.”

Leo does as he’s told, alternating bites of the cracker with sips of the Gatorade. His stomach slowly unknots, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

He wasn’t expecting a snack, but Draxum brought him one.

On the board, Draxum has written the days of the week, and drawn out a grid underneath them. Leo eats his snack and watches as Draxum fills each square on the grid with a number.

“Where’d you even get that?” he asks after a minute.

“I borrowed it from Donatello’s lab.”

Leo whistles. “Without asking?”

“I don’t think he will mind.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Leo points at the numbers. They aren’t times, or prices, so… “What are these?”

Draxum lowers the board, turning to look at Leo. “Do you know what refeeding syndrome is?”

“…Should I?”

Draxum shakes his head. “No, there’s no reason for you to have known. I should have explained this sooner, but it didn’t feel necessary. …And I thought it might scare you.”

“Scare me?” Leo repeats. He’s not sure what could be even more scary than the fear he feels all the time now.

“I am not telling you this to scare you,” Draxum stresses. “I am telling you this so you understand what is happening now.”

Leo slowly nods.

“Right. So, do you know that when a person is starving, their body changes how it processes nutrients?”

“Yeah, it’s like, starvation mode.”

“If you must call it that,” says Draxum with a nod. “The body stops relying on carbs and glucose and uses fatty acids instead. This helps preserve the muscles, but causes a severe depletion in intracellular minerals.”

That sounded like a Donnie-level infodump to Leo. He stares at Draxum blankly. “Can you say that again, en Ingles por favor?”

Draxum actually makes a noise that could almost be a laugh. “Alright, think of it this way: a painter wants to use purple, but their purple paints are running low. So they start using red and blue mixed together, which solves the problem of preserving the purple paint, at the cost of running low on red and blue.”

Leo raises his eye ridges. “Is this how you explain stuff to Mikey?”

Draxum shrugs. “He understands art metaphors.”

Leo settles back a little more comfortably on his bed. He munches on a cracker. “It’s fine for today. Think of a comic book metaphor for next time.”

Draxum gives a long suffering sigh and says, “Fine. But do you understand now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. So when a person eats again after a long term starvation event, their body won’t start relying on glucose again right away. It’s still in “starvation mode,” as you called it, and switching isn’t easy. The painter buys a new purple paint, but the color is different enough that they will have to use more red and blue to blend the two together.”

“I’m starting to lose track of the art metaphor here. We added purple, but we’re still low on red and blue, right?”

“Yes, precisely. Your body is low on critical minerals, and those need to be replenished at the same time it is given more carbs to convert to glucose.”

“But I still don’t understand why that means I have to eat less,” says Leo.

“Digestion itself takes energy,” says Draxum. “And the body isn’t using the tools it’s being given properly yet. So it is using more and more minerals without replacing any. The imbalance leads to stress on the body, which has negative downstream effects.”

“So, TLDR, if I eat too much right now, my body can’t handle it and I’ll get sick.”

“I have no idea what TLDR means, but yes, simply put.”

Leo looks at the cracker in his hand thoughtfully. “So all the times I’ve puked are refeeding syndrome?”

“No,” says Draxum with a shake of his head. “That is because your stomach has shrunk, and you’ve overstuffed it.” A pause, then Draxum adds, “Though I believe what just happened was a stress response.”

“I’m not stressed,” says Leo. The look Draxum gives him is not convinced. “Sooo then what is refeeding syndrome if it’s not barfing?”

“The lack of minerals causes severe stress on all parts of the body, especially the organs. This can lead to a number of disorders… including organ failure.” Draxum pauses, like he doesn’t want to say more, but he still adds, “In extreme cases, it can lead to heart failure.”

The cracker Leo is holding slips through his fingers. He feels his pulse speed up, something cold and terrible sliding through him.

“If I eat too much my heart could stop?” he asks, and his voice is small.

“In extreme cases,” Draxum repeats. “If you began showing symptoms, we would take you to a hospital. Even in the Hidden City there is no mystic cure-all for this, but they could at least reduce the stress on your organs.”

Leo shakes his head. His hands are trembling. The words feel like they’re coming to him through thousands of feet of water.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I did not want to scare you,” Draxum says again. “And I did not think it was necessary. Refeeding syndrome is entirely preventable, if precautions are taken.”

It barely penetrates. All Leo wants is food. All he wants is to eat. But now food somehow feels like the enemy. He suddenly queasy again. Should he even be eating these crackers? What is safe? What isn’t?

“Is this forever?” he manages to ask. 

He doesn’t know how to take it, if it is.

“No,” says Draxum quickly. He raises his hand and reaches toward Leo, but Leo flinches. Draxum lets it drop again. “…No, Leonardo, it is not forever,” he says, and his voice is more soft than Leo has ever heard it - more soft than he thought Draxum capable of. “The most critical time for refeeding is the first five to seven days. You are almost clear of the danger zone now. And your enhanced biology may even mean we’re already past it… though I am still being cautious.”

Leo lets out a breath. So it’s not forever - it may even be over. It doesn’t calm the racing of his heart (at least he knows it hasn’t stopped, ha ha), but it does make him feel like he can pick up the cracker again.

“Then what happens once we’re past it?”

“That is what this is for.” Draxum lifts the whiteboard again, perching it on his knees. “Even once you’re out of danger of refeeding syndrome, we’ll still need to build your daily food intake up gradually, until you can eat like you once did. These,” he taps the board with the marker, “are my calorie goals for each meal and snack. As you can see, every day it goes up.”

Leo looks over the counts. They don’t really mean anything to him, but he can at least see how the number increases across the seven days on the board. “How many calories is normal?”

“Based on calculations I have done, going off what I have seen you boys eat as well as my own estimates for your growth, you and Donatello eat roughly five thousand calories a day, sometimes going as high as six thousand when you are particularly active.” Draxum scribbles the number in the corner of the whiteboard. “It’s high compared to humans, but within perfectly healthy limits given your mutant biology and high metabolism. Raphael eats more, and Michelangelo eats a bit less, though not by much.”

“Yeah,” Leo gives a chuckle, “kid can put away a whole large pizza by himself when his blood sugar’s low.”

“Unfortunately, I have seen him do it.” Draxum sighs. “But right now, you are averaging much less.” He taps the numbers. “Our goal right now is to get to where you are eating around twenty two hundred calories a day steadily, without getting sick.”

Leo has never been the math guy, but even he can handle some simple division. “Less than half? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. That is why ensuring that your meals are as nutritious as possible is important.” He nods at the pill organizer. “And why the vitamins are important.”

Less than half as much as he used to eat… It leaves Leo feeling a little dizzy again. Nine days without food wrecked his system this hard?

“Don’t panic,” says Draxum in that soft voice again, and Leo feels a little resentment for how it pulls him out of his ensuing spiral. “You can see that your counts are going up steadily, and as we reintroduce solid food it will get even easier. And this is not hard and fast. Going a little above this is not an issue. And I am constantly readjusting as we go. It will take time before you are… putting away entire pizzas.” Draxum scrunches up his face in distaste. “But in a few weeks, you will be eating a much more normal diet than you are now.”

Leo rubs his hand up and down his arm. “Normal like, I can eat potato chips without getting yelled at?”

Draxum sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you to begin with.”

“Yeah, well…” Leo fishes his last cracker out of the bag and rubs it between his fingers. “I gave you a black eye, so I think we’re even.”

“Hmph.” Draxum almost sounds amused, though he doesn’t let his lips quirk up even a tiny bit. Leo thinks he might be allergic to smiles, unless he’s doing something evil. “Still, I hope you understand the situation now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Leo takes a small bite of the last cracker. Takes his time chewing and swallowing it. “The main thing is you’re going to keep being a pain in the butt for the next few weeks, right?”

“Yes, you’re stuck with me.” Draxum watches him take another bite of cracker, then says, “There’s something else you need to understand, Leonardo. The goal of this,” he taps the whiteboard, “is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

Leo stares at the board, and the calorie counts, all laid out neatly. “Sure,” he says, and he doesn’t feel it.

Draxum hesitates, then taps each row, reading off, “Breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Smaller amounts of food more frequently, to keep your stomach full without overstuffing.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“And this can be moved around. If you eat breakfast earlier than normal, you can have a snack in the morning instead. But you tend to sleep in, which is why I structured it this way.”

“Nine’s not sleeping in,” Leo grumbles.

“Nine is- no, this is not the point.” Draxum gives his head a shake. “The point is, if you want to move your eating times around, we can. The goal of this is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“No, I’m not sure you did.” Draxum again uncaps the marker, then writes across the top of the board five simple words:

If you are hungry: eat.

Leo stares at those words. It feels like a trap, a trick - Draxum’s being all nice right now, but the way he ripped the bag from Leo’s hands…

“I was hungry when I ate the chips,” he says, and it’s a little bit of a lie, but that’s not the point. He watches Draxum carefully, for any sign that this is all fake, and Draxum really does want him to suffer.

Draxum’s brows furrow. “You are not in trouble for eating,” he says. “You’ll never be in trouble for eating. It is just good for you right now to eat healthy things. 

“I know it isn’t fair,” he adds, voice blunt, “but life rarely is.”

Leo studies his face. And the amazing thing is, he doesn’t think Draxum is lying.

“So… if I want a late night snack, I can eat some crackers?” he asks, waving the empty baggie.

“Yes. Or a banana, or some yogurt… If you feel very hungry, you could even eat some egg, or leftover soup.”

“And you’re fine with me just eating… whenever?”

“If you are so hungry you need to eat an extra meal, I just ask that you let me know, so I can adjust.” He taps the board. “But yes, I am. You know the stakes now. I trust you.”

Trust. Leo’s never had much of that from anyone. He looks down at the empty bag and wonders if it’s really true.

“…Is there anything you need right now?” Leo lifts his eyes back to Draxum’s face. “I can get it for you.”

Leo thinks about it. “When did you say lunch is?”

“About an hour and twenty minutes, now.”

“Then… I’m fine.” Leo pushes himself further back on his bed, dropping his trash into the space between them.

“Hm. I will bring you some more juice to drink.” Draxum nods at the pill organizer. “You still need to take those.”

Leo shoos him off. “I will, sheesh.” Now that he knows how important it is.

Draxum rolls his eyes and gets up. He takes the trash, but leaves the white board propped against the wall at the foot of Leo’s bed.

He’s almost to the door when Leo clears his throat and says, “Hey Barry?”

Draxum pauses, hand grasping the curtain. “Yes?”

“Any chance we can skip telling my dad and brothers about… everything?”

Draxum looks back at him. “Trust me when I say that I would like to omit this as much as you… But I am going to have to tell your father, at least.”

Leo groans, letting his head fall back on his pillows. “This sucks.”

“Then I will try to think of ways to make it suck less.” Draxum pulls the curtain aside. “Rest, Leonardo. I’ll bring your juice.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Leo alone.

-----

Raph puts the groceries down in the kitchen, then looks toward the escalator leading down. He should stay and help put everything away, but all he wants to do right now is rush to Leo’s side.

“Go,” says Splinter beside him. “I can take care of this.”

That’s all the permission Raph needs; he takes the escalator steps two at a time and crashes down onto the lower level.

Draxum is there, standing outside Leo’s train car and looking at one of his notebooks again. When he hears Raph, he closes it and looks up.

Raph’s eyes catch on the bruise forming on Draxum’s cheek and eye - it’s just starting to darken, but Raph can tell it’s going to be a plum shade of purple by the end of the day.

“He told me it wasn’t physical,” says Raph immediately. A little dangerously.

“It wasn’t, on my end,” says Draxum.

Raph finds that he believes that, and he can’t help the way his lips quirk up at the news.

Draxum scowls. “Yes, yes, very funny.”

Raph claps him on the shoulder. “Come on, Barry. You know you deserved it.”

“We can debate that later,” says Draxum, dry. He nods at the train car. “He’s in his room.”

“Raph figured.” He locks eyes on the room, wishing he could see past the curtains to know Leo’s state. “When you guys were fighting, he… called for us again.”

Draxum’s expression turns more concerned - nearly imperceptibly so, but Raph knows him well enough by now to see it. “Yes, I know.”

“You felt it?”

“No.” Draxum pulls away. “I have things to discuss with Lou Jitsu. Is he in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Raph wants to know what Draxum saw, but he always wants to get to Leo as fast as possible. In the end, the draw to his brother is stronger, and he steps forward. “Help him put the groceries up.”

“If I must,” says Draxum, and then he walks away toward the escalator. Raph doesn’t hang around to watch, instead hurrying to Leo’s room.

The room is a mess, even more than normally. His action figures are scattered everywhere, comic books have been knocked from the shelves, his blankets are on the floor. Leo himself is in bed, vacant expression staring at nothing Raph can see, and it’s an eerie way to see his little brother, usually never without his phone or a comic book in his quiet moments. 

He clears his throat, and Leo’s eyes flick his way. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.” Leo rouses himself to alertness, like he’d been sleeping with his eyes open. He shifts on his pillows so he can better see Raph. “You guys got the groceries?”

“Yeah, we did,” he assures Leo. He walks in, standing over Leo’s bed. He’d been so anxious to get back here, but now he finds himself trapped in the same place as always, unsure what to say or do.

Leo stares up at him. “…Everything okay, hermano?”

“I came to ask you that.” Raph sits down on the edge of the bed, then startles when something hard falls against his arm. He looks and finds a whiteboard, with numbers that make no sense to him written in neat columns (not Leo’s handwriting), and, across the top:

If you are hungry: eat.

Raph can’t help but stare at those words a few seconds longer. Is this something Leo needed to be told?

Beside him, Leo is saying, “Me and Drax got in a fight, but we worked it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah.” Raph grins, tearing his eyes away from the whiteboard to look at Leo. “I saw the shiner you gave him.”

He’s expecting a grin back; for Leo’s expression to turn mischievous, or cocky. For Leo to proudly take credit for punching Draxum right in the eye.

He’s not expecting Leo to flinch and look away. “I thought he was better at dodging than that,” he says.

Raph falters, not sure how to respond. He knows Leo; his little brother would never hit anyone for no reason, even someone like Baron Draxum. Leo might playfight, Leo might even throw things at them from time to time, but he never aimed to hurt, only to irritate. 

Once again, Raph doesn’t know the right way to approach this situation. Should he try to talk to Leo about this? Is he the right person to try? Would Leo even want to hear it from Raph, who so often struggles with his own anger responses?

(He thinks about the fight again, and feels a rush of shame.)

He’s still trying to work it out when Leo changes the subject.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Leo picks at some fuzz on his sheets. “About the chips.”

That’s something else Raph has been trying to figure out. But now, for this question at least, he has an answer.

“They didn’t have anyone’s name on ‘em.”

Leo’s fingers pause. “But you know I’m not supposed to eat those.”

“Yeah, well… I still wasn’t gonna tell. Raph’s not a snitch.” He shrugs. “Look, I know Barry’s right and you gotta be careful about what you eat so you don’t get sick. But this is still your house, Leo. We agreed a long time ago that unless food has someone’s name on it, it’s fair game.”

Leo actually smiles just a little at that, and Raph feels his heart leap at the sight. It’s not quite a full, big Leo smile, but it’s something. “And sometimes the name doesn’t stop us.”

Raph laughs. “That’s just because I got three little brothers who are a pain in the shell.” He reaches out to rub Leo’s head, and is a little surprised and a lot pleased when Leo doesn’t duck it. 

(It wraps around to concern again, when Leo seems to chase the touch like he’ll drown without it.)

“Listen,” he says, “Draxum gives you any more trouble and you just come tell me, okay? I’ll deal with it. We’ll get it worked out.” He moves his hand down to scratch the ridge of Leo’s shell, right where he can’t easily reach himself. “Raph’s got your back.”

Leo goes tense under his fingers, and Raph thinks he’s said something wrong. But the soft little, “Oh,” Leo says after isn’t upset. It’s just… surprised.

But why would he be surprised by that?

But when Raph thinks about it… when’s the last time he told Leo that? When’s the last time he felt like Leo had his back, too?

Somewhere along the way, he and Leo lost what made them them. Best friends, friendly rivals, brothers through thick and thin. It all got swallowed up by their fights and disagreements. And then Leo was taken from him.

But Leo isn’t gone. Leo is right here.

And suddenly Raph doesn’t know how he’s made it this long without hugging his little brother. He should have already. That should have been the first thing.

He moves the hand that’s scratching Leo’s shell to more firmly grab his back, watching close to see Leo’s reaction. Leo’s eyes flutter closed, like he feels totally safe, and Raph doesn’t waste the trust that’s been given to him.

He lifts Leo up and pulls him into his lap, wrapping his arms around in the safest bear hug he can give. Leo melts into it, his head leaning against Raph’s plastron, his arm coming up to loosely hook itself around Raph’s neck. 

“I gotcha, Leo,” he promises, cradling him close. “I gotcha.”

“I know,” says Leo, but Raph wonders if he really does. Raph hasn’t done a great job of showing it.

He still doesn’t know his answer. He still feels a stab in his heart when he thinks of Leo saying he did what a hero would. But April was right. Leo doesn’t need big emotional confrontations right now. He needs his big brother.

And Raph can do that. It’s the thing he’s best at.

“Hey,” he says, “wanna come watch Jupiter Jim: Venture to Venus with me?”

Leo opens his eyes to squint up at him. “Dee’ll hate it if he misses the sing-along parts,” he says, but now, finally, a little bit of his mischievousness is back.

Raph grins. “What Donnie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Leo laughs then, small and tired and hoarse but there. Raph gives him another squeeze, then stands up and takes Leo with him.

He’s still unsettlingly light, like he was when Raph lifted him from the cot. But there’s a little more of him back.

If they get a little more of him every day, eventually, his little brother will truly be home.

-----

Leo stays in his lap for the movie. He makes no attempt to leave and Raph makes no attempt to remove him.

Splinter brings them lunch around the halfway mark: the alphabet soup they bought at the store for Leo, with bread and more banana for after. Leo complains that he’s not a little kid, but out of the corner of his eye Raph catches him industriously fishing around for the letters L, E, and O. He gets a little, self-satisfied smile on his face at his accomplishment, and Raph has to force his eyes to focus on the screen before he squishes Leo like one of his teddy bears.

After lunch, Leo dozes off. It’s not a surprise, especially given how eventful the morning was. Raph’s just glad it’s actual sleep and not that scary, blank-eyed stare he saw Leo with earlier.

Raph stays there after his arms fall asleep, after the movie ends, after he hears Donnie and Mikey come home (together, at least). He’d stay there all night, but Splinter comes in and puts a hand on his arm. He’s carrying a plate with a snack for Leo.

“Draxum wants to talk to you and Purple and Orange.”

Raph looks at Leo, still curled up against him, and shakes his head. “I don’t wanna leave him.”

“It’s alright. I will be here with him.” Splinter pats his arm again. “Take a break and stretch. You can sit with him after you’re done.”

Reluctantly, Raph gets up. He shifts Leo to the chair as carefully as he can (Leo murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t wake), then looks back at Splinter.

“You’ll be here when he wakes up, right?” he asks again.

(Maybe he’s still a little mad.)

“Yes,” Splinter promises. “I’ll be here.”

So Raph leaves. He shakes out his arms and legs, stiff from holding Leo, then swings by the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen. He can hear Mikey there already.

“-tell us what happened,” Mikey is saying, standing with his arms crossed and face angry. This is the most frustrated Raph can remember seeing Mikey act toward Draxum. Beside him, Donnie looks equally agitated.

“I have told your father what happened,” says Draxum, looking much more calm by comparison, “and we have agreed to maintain Leonardo’s privacy for now.”

“Is it about Leo’s privacy or do you think we just don’t deserve to know?” Mikey snaps. Raph knows that tone, and he knows this is about to turn into a fight.

He steps into the middle before it can. “Hold up, Mikey. Let’s hear him out.” His little brother does not seem happy with that, and he opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Raph refocuses on Draxum. “Tell us what’s goin’ on, Barry.”

Draxum’s eyes move slowly between all three of them before landing on Raph. “As I was telling your brothers, Lou Jitsu and I have agreed not to tell you all the details of what happened earlier, primarily because we are not sure how much Leonardo himself is comfortable with you knowing.”

It stings, but Raph knows he’s right. It’s like the security tapes Donnie chose not to watch. They have to let Leo decide how much they know and how much they don’t.

Still, Raph has his concerns. He folds his arms, mimicking his brothers behind him, and stares Draxum down. “Alright,” he says, and ignores the indignant noise Mikey makes behind him, “but did you tell Pops everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” Draxum repeats. “He needs to know, so we know how to care for Leonardo going forward.”

Raph isn’t as good at reading people as Leo, but it’s not like Draxum is an enigma, either. He doesn’t think the old goat is lying, so Raph relaxes his posture.

“Okay,” he says. “As long as Dad knows.”

“He did something so bad Leo punched him!” Mikey argues. “Leo doesn’t just do that!”

“In his defense,” says Donnie, “Draxum’s face is very punchable.”

Raph snorts at the indignant look Draxum gives that remark.

“Honestly,” says Draxum with a sigh, “all four of you boys are the same… But I can tell you that much.” He looks down, not meeting their eyes now. “I took food from your brother’s hands, before I realized what an error that is.”

All of them stiffen. Behind him, Raph senses Donnie shifting his weight in agitation. 

“You took food from him!?” cries Mikey. He sounds so betrayed. “Why!?”

“I was worried about him making himself sick,” Draxum explains. “But I did not handle it well. I have already apologized to him.”

“You better have!” Ah, there’s Doctor Delicate Touch.

“I have,” Draxum repeats. “And we have reached an understanding… which is what I need to talk to the three of you about.” He looks at them now. “There are going to be some new rules around here, at least for the duration of Leonardo’s recovery.”

“What rules?” asks Raph. “Besides don’t yank food out of Leo’s hands?”

“Well, that is an important one.” Draxum nods. “But we have also decided to adhere to a more strict meal schedule than you do normally. If meals are coming at regular, predictable times, we think this will reduce a lot of stress for Leonardo.”

Raph thinks of the words on the whiteboard. Of the neat rows of numbers. Does Leo wonder when he’ll be fed next? Does it scare him, not knowing?

Doesn’t he know his family would never let him go hungry?

“It makes sense,” says Donnie behind him. “We usually eat whenever we feel like it, but if Leo has to be careful with his diet, having a routine will make it easier.”

If Donnie thinks so, it’s probably right. Raph nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever we gotta do to help Leo.”

Draxum nods back. “Right now, we’re planning for breakfast at eight, or whenever he wakes up, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Leo will get regular snacks as well; smaller, more frequent meals are better for him right now than three large ones. Of course, the three of you can still do what you feel like; if you want your own snack, or want to eat later, you can.”

“Let’s all try to eat with Leo,” says Raph, looking back at his brothers. Donnie nods immediately; Mikey hesitates.

“Will Leo be in trouble,” he asks, “if he eats snacks when you didn’t tell him to?”

“No,” says Draxum. “I have already told him this. If he’s hungry, he can eat; he doesn’t need anyone to tell him he can.”

Raph’s glad to hear that; he knows he wouldn’t have been able to play food police. Mikey seems to calm down at this reassurance, too, and he nods.

“Okay. Then, we’re starting tonight? Dinner at six?”

“Yes.” Draxum seems relieved, that Mikey doesn’t look so angry anymore. “You can help me, if you want.”

“Duh,” says Mikey, and Draxum cringes. “I’ll be here!”

He and Donnie leave then; Donnie says he’s going to finish Leo’s curtains, and Mikey goes to his room. Raph hangs back, watching Draxum.

“You sure you didn’t touch him?” he asks, once he’s sure his brothers are out of earshot.

Draxum looks at him, open, not hiding. “I did not. I acted rashly, but I would not lay a hand on him.”

“…Okay. I believe you.” Raph folds his arms. “But if Leo ever tells me anything different, you know what happens next, right?”

“I do. But I would not hurt him.” Draxum looks nonchalant, despite the conversation. “Despite my best efforts, I’ve grown fond of all of you. I’m here to help him.”

Raph can’t help but smile at that. It’s probably as close as Barry will ever get to being affectionate.

“Thanks, then. For all you’re doin’.” Raph turns to leave. “But don’t yank food out of his hands again.”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

Raph decides to take it.

-----

“Blue…? Are you awake?”

Leo blinks his eyes open to find Splinter peering down at him, a plate in his hand. Blearily, he sits up in the recliner. It takes him a moment to realize he’s by himself now - Raph has gone.

It makes him feel a little sad. He knows Raph still has something he wants to yell about, but there for a short while, it was really nice to just be his little brother.

Now his dad is here, with food. Leo remembers the chart Draxum gave him - breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack - and feels his heart relax.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Very good. I have brought you some more yogurt and fruit.”

“Yippee,” says Leo, tone flat. “I’m gonna be the most regular guy on the planet after this.”

Splinter laughs at that, and it makes Leo feel a little sense of triumph. “Cherish it while you’re young.”

“Ew, gross,” he says, and Splinter laughs again.

Leo eats his snack. The projector skips on the screen, still on but with nothing set to play. Splinter settles in on the arm of the chair and waits until Leo’s almost done.

Then he says, “Draxum told me what happened earlier.”

Leo goes stiff. He swallows his bite of banana around the knot in his throat. 

“Yeah, he… said he was going to tell you.”

“I’m sorry that he was so harsh with you. You are not in trouble for taking the chips. The food in this lair is as much yours as it is any of ours.”

“I know,” says Leo, even though he’s not sure of anything anymore. But it’s what Splinter wants to hear.

“I won’t be leaving you alone with him again.” Splinter pats his arm. “He may be reformed, but he is still stupid, and not at all fit to take care of children!”

“Which is what makes him perfect for a public school lunchroom,” says Leo, and grins when it gets another laugh out of his dad.

Leo finishes his snack. The projector is still skipping. It makes a little clicking noise every few seconds.

“...Leonardo,” says Splinter, and Leo tenses up again.

“Oh no, full name…”

“You are not in trouble,” says Splinter again. Leo wonders why he keeps saying that. “But I have to ask you this again. When you were… with the EPF. Did anyone touch you in any way?”

Leo stares at him. Why are they having this conversation again?

“No. I told you that, remember?”

“I remember. But I have to make sure.” Splinter puts his hand on Leo’s. Leo stares at it. “Did anyone… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

“Uh… besides stay there?”

“Leonardo.” Splinter’s tone is not angry, but Leo still winces. “I understand that this is uncomfortable to talk about. But I need to know for your safety. Did any of them do anything to you? Or make you do something to them? To yourself?”

Leo stares at his dad’s hand. He thinks of getting down on his knees and begging.

“...No.” He gives his head a shake. “They didn’t even hit me or anything.” And it’s the truth.

They didn’t really do anything to him at all.

“...Alright.” Splinter leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Leo’s head. Leo keeps his eyes on their hands and listens to the skip of the projector. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He hands the empty plate over and sinks further into the recliner cushions. He wishes the conversation hadn’t curdled the snack in his guts. “Uh, can we… turn on something so the projector isn’t making that sound?”

“Oh, yes!” Splinter sets the plate aside, then grabs for the remote. “It is aaalmost time for Scorpion Treadmill!”

Leo snorts despite himself. “Sure, sounds great.”

Splinter finds the channel and settles into the chair next to Leo. Leo closes his eyes and listens to the Japanese he can barely understand and his dad’s laughter, and tries to ignore the way his own skin feels slimy.

-----

After dinner, and after his snack, Donnie shows him the new curtains.

The new rods are just as makeshift as the ones from the day before, with the same color and the same details. Leo loves them. He tells Donnie so, and Donnie grins big and happy, and Leo feels happy, too, that he can still make at least one brother look like that.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like them!” says Donnie, for what must be the fifth time. “But seriously, if you want me to add some smart tech to them, just say the word.”

“Thanks but no thanks, Dee. I don’t want my curtains to gain sentience on me.”

Donnie pouts, but it’s good natured. He comes over and sits on the bed next to Leo, the two of them looking around his room. It’s crazy to Leo, how different it looks now. Though, maybe the mess is contributing to that feeling…

“It’s so dark in here now,” Donnie observes. His tone is totally neutral in a way Donnie could never hope to fake, so Leo doesn’t take it as a judgment.

Which is good, because Leo doesn’t know how to explain that he likes it that way. That the dark makes him feel calm and safe. Hidden.

“I could always add more lighting,” he says instead. He has his lanterns and a desk lamp, but he has to admit, some things will be harder without the ambient lights from outside.

“Oh, I can do that next!” says Donnie. “What kind of lighting do you want? I can see what I have in the lab-”

“Whoa, hey,” says Leo quickly. He reaches over and flicks Donnie on his big forehead. (It lacks any force, because Leo is still weak, but Donnie says, “Ow!” exaggeratedly anyway.) “I get that you’re trying to help, but you’ve done enough. I know you must have some battleshell or robot or nuclear bomb you’re dying to work on instead.”

Donnie falters at that. He eyes Leo, the same way everyone does lately, like he’s some kind of timebomb that might go off.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he says.

“What do you mean? I’m super comfy!” Leo waves the sleeve of his hoodie in demonstration. “It’s the lair, Don-ton. Same as always.”

Donnie’s expression goes even flatter. He turns his eyes on the train car walls. “Same as always? It hasn’t even been a year.”

Leo flinches. Right, well… So it’s not the same as ever. But it’s the same as the one he was stolen from, and that’s all that matters, right?

“You know what I mean.” He bumps their shoulders together. “It’s home. It’s where you guys are. I’m totally fine.”

And he means that.

He means it, he means it, he means it.

“...Right.” Donnie is trying to sound like he believes Leo. “Well, if you change your mind about the lighting, you know where to find me.”

“I sure do, hermano.” He bumps their shoulders again. “Thanks, though.”

They sit for a moment in silence. Leo wonders if he should offer a late night movie session, or if he should send Donnie on his way. He’s torn. He doesn’t really want to be alone. But he doesn’t want to bother Donnie more than he already has.

Before he can decide, Donnie’s phone dings. He picks it up and clicks something on his screen.

“What’s up?” asks Leo.

“Oh nothing.” Donnie waves a hand. “Draxum just finally decided to leave. About time…”

“Huh? How do you… know…”

Leo leans over on his shoulder to look, and answers his own question.

Cameras. Of course Donnie has cameras. This one is outside the entrance to the lair from the sewers, and Leo can see Draxum’s retreating back as he heads for the nearest manhole.

“The camera alerts me whenever anyone other than one of the five of us leaves,” Donnie is saying. “It’s part of the security upgrades I’ve been working on.”

“Security upgrades,” Leo repeats, feeling a little faint.

Donnie doesn’t notice, jumping on the chance to infodump. “Yes! I’ve added more cameras, and proximity alarms, and I’ve been working on more upgrades to our trackers, like I told you. Oh, and new security measures for my baby, of course. And once Shelldon’s new body is complete, I’ll integrate him with the system as well, and…”

Donnie’s still talking, but Leo can’t hear it. His eyes are tracking all around his train car - the dark corners, the shelves, the nooks and crannies.

Donnie has cameras all over the lair.

Where are the cameras in here?

-----

For another night in a row, Leo doesn’t sleep.

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Bully Swap

Sumit:

I hopped out of my car in the high school parking lot and grabbed my backpack from the seat. I'm glad I was graduating soon, but a little sad because I'd miss everyone so much. I wouldn't consider myself "popular" in the normal sense. But a lot of people knew me and I tried to be friends with everyone, despite being a shy guy. 

As I walked to the entrance, my best friend Thomas approached me from the left.

"Hey bro! Did you hear about the new kid?"

"Nah, what about him?"

"They say he was kicked out of his old school because of 'bad behavior' or something. But not like actually fighting people. Like threatening."

"What, like he's gonna kill them?"

"Probably. But the school board thought that was bad enough so they kicked him out." Thomas laughed. He'd been my best friend since I moved to this town in 6th grade. He could be a little harsh at times, but somehow we've stayed friends even through high school.

"That's weird yeah."

Bently:

In every one of my fucking classes the teacher had to introduce me all formal like. I hated it so much. Can't I just show up and go on my way?

My old school had people I actually knew and friends I actually liked. But I just HAD to tell this one loser off within earshot of a teacher and they had me expelled. It's not like I was going to do anything! Now I need to start a whole new reputation. One girl I hated from my old school was already telling people what happened so I was fucked from the start. Guess I'll have to sit alone at lunch once again.

Sumit:

The new guy wasn't in any of my classes but my heart dropped when we saw him at lunch. Now that I got a good look, I recognized him. I knew him all too well.

"You good?" I looked up to Thomas's concerned face.

"The new guy. I know him. His name is Bently."

"Yeah I know. He was in my class earlier. When people tried to approach him he like faked a punch." He shook his head. "What a weirdo. Wait, how do you know him?"

"He went to my old school. Middle school. He was a bully that basically made my life hell."

"What? That guy?" He glanced over at Bently sitting alone, then back at me. "But dude, but you're bigger than him."

"Well yeah, I am now. But back then I used to be tiny and wimpy. I remember him towering over me, and that's why I was easy prey. I was scared out of my mind being around him.

"Oh man. But you could totally take him on now though! Smack him!" He threw an air punch.

"Yeah. It's weird though. He was super popular before. He had that kind of outgoing personality that attracted people just like that. Well, other jerks that is. That's why we never got along."

"You really don't need to be an extrovert to be popular though. I mean just look at you! Half the school knows who you are and you're a turtle."

"I mean." I lifted up my shirt slightly. "I got abs too so that's probably why." He stared at me intensely like I said something wrong, but then we both started laughing our asses off.

"True! True!"

"I guess he finally got what he deserved after all this time."

"He's a real loser now. Sits at a table all by himself." Thomas smirked. We noticed Bently had dropped a napkin under the table and got down on all fours to pick it back up. When he extended his arm, his shirt went up, exposing a flabby belly.

"Oh shit dude, he's not only a loser now. He's fat!"

"No way."

"Yes way! Look at that flabby gut. Dude hides all his fat under the shirt. Wouldn't be surprised if he wore a fucking bra too!"

It was then that Bently revealed he was listening. It seems he couldn't take it anymore and walked over to our table with a show of rage on his face. Thomas looked up and started laughing again.

"Can I help you pick out a bra size mister?"

He curled up his fist, about to throw a punch, when I shouted at him.

"Hey Bently! Remember me?" He turned his head in my direction instead. I was feeling abnormally brave and angry at that moment. Maybe it was because I knew I had already won? We stared at each other for a few seconds when he spoke up.

"No."

"I'm Sumit." He took a long look at me when his eyes widened. I could tell he recognized me then.

"No way. Suckass Sumit?"

"Yep. But your bullying days are over so just give it a rest and leave everyone alone." I'm honestly surprised I managed to say that.

"Or what?" I stood up and got face to face with him.

"Or I'll mess you up," I said, alot louder than I wanted to. I may have had a better body than him, but I was no fighter. I was expecting him to throw a punch but instead he did a much dumber move - he knocked our heads together. It hurt like hell and we both fell over. I must've blacked out for a minute because when I got up, the principal had appeared; he was clearing the area and talking to Thomas.

"Are you alright?" He asked me.

"I'm ok."

"Thank you for not retaliating. It takes courage to not fight back. As for you Mr. Wilson," he turned to look at Bently, who was just standing up, "I will let you off this one time because it's your first day but one more screw up and it's detention."

As soon as the principal walked away, Bently came up to me once again.

"This isn't over asshole. Get fucked." He turned away.

"Wow, there's a real grade A asshole." Thomas put his hand on my shoulder. "Guess he's just jealous. I almost feel bad for him. Almost!" He started laughing again.

"Yeah, but my head still hurts."

"Eh, put some ice on it probably."

Bently: 

Fuck me. I should not have done that. I could've easily thrown a punch but he was just so in my face! I think I relied on my instincts. Stupid! Stupid! The rest of the day seemed to drag on and I could feel people laughing at me behind my back. This is really my life now isn't it? I headed home, and immediately to my room. Since my mom was out of town for the weekend, I didn't even bother trying to make any food so I just went to sleep, hoping that Saturday would be more tolerable.

Sumit:

At the end of the day, I went back home, hung out and played some Mario Kart with Thomas, and went to bed. My head wasn't hurting anymore so I was ready to enjoy my Saturday. But, all I could think about that night was Bently and what his problem was. I kinda felt bad for him. Who knows what his life was like?

Bently: 

I woke up feeling pretty energized, which was strange because that never happens. I reached my hand over for the glass of water on my bedside table, my eyes still closed, but found nothing. That's weird. I moved my hand around to find the table itself but still found nothing. I opened my eyes then and looked around to find a completely different bedroom. What the fuck? It was then that I noticed my hand was much darker than what I was used to. I checked out my whole arm and noticed how muscular it seemed. No fucking way. I investigated my body further and found I was wearing clothes that I didn't own so I decided to lift up my shirt to see what it looked like. I had fucking abs!

I grazed my hand along and they felt hard, completely different than the soft flab I was used to. Man I don't know what happened, but I like it! Wait, what do I look like? The bedroom wasn't mine but luckily it had a mirror on the wall. I took my shirt off and gazed into my reflection. Holy fuck.

I'm an Indian guy? Wait…shit. I'm that one guy from yesterday. The one I beat up…or tried to anyway. I leaned closer and touched my face. He's not all that bad looking actually. Wait what am I saying? That guy sucks! But still he has a nice body. I could feel myself getting hard within the sweatpants I was wearing. Maybe I won't think about who I am if I don't look in the mirror. I proceeded to the nearby bathroom and took out his member. Holy fuck he's huge! I rubbed one out, switching between nipple twists and rubbing my abs the whole time. I don't know how I swapped bodies with him, but all I know is that I'm in no rush to change back. This is gonna to be a fun weekend…

Sumit:

When I woke up the next day, I definitely did not feel rested. It felt like I barely got any sleep at all. I scratched the back of my head but noticed something was off. My hair was longer again? I had just got it cut so it was pretty noticeable. I opened my eyes and was very confused when I found I wasn't in my own bedroom. I didn't even recognize the room at all. It was kinda messy and there was a weird scent in the air - which was a stark contrast to my spotless bedroom.

When I tried to sit up I felt a weird feeling. It was sort of a jiggle? I looked down and saw how pale my arms were. What's going on? Am I dying? I made the mistake of touching my chest. It felt…squishy. Oh god. I lifted up my shirt and saw a flabby mess. What happened to my body?! I jumped off the bed, the saggy flesh shuffling with me. My belly drooped a bit below my sweatpants, and the place where I once had pecs, were now wobbly bags of meat. I leaned over and watched them hang down.

I went crazy and slapped my belly, watching all the flab go nuts. This can't be happening! I walked over to a nearby mirror and almost puked when I saw who I was. I….I'm Bently.

What happened?! I made weird facial expressions and shook my belly again. I turned to the side to feel my ass around, and found it was equally as blubbery as the rest of my body. What did I do to deserve this? Oh no, what does my dick look like? I pulled down my sweatpants to see the damage. Oh god, it was…tiny. I have a tiny dick! Maybe it's a grower? I sure hope so! What am I going to do now though? Thankfully it was a weekend so I didn't have to go to school like this, but I needed to figure out how this happened. In the meantime, I was a little curious to see what it would be like to jerk with someone else's dick…

[moonshynecybin]

you cantttt just say rosquez feminization and not elaborate…. penny for your thoughts

shout out to @lestelledreams who sent me another ask like this but tumblr ATE my response when i tried to post it. luckily i draft in notes app…okay so it would be easier to list thoughts i DONT have about rosquez feminization… under the cut bc we do in fact get a lil nasty here

so i’ve talked a bit about some of the non-racing oriented things marc does for his body like his hot girl routine (laser hair removal. skin creams. slutty workout videos) like my girl enjoys being SMOOTH he enjoys being conventionally SEXY (personally. bush til i die but whatever live your truth marc) and the first time he’s doing it as. okay i’m famous and photographed all the time AND around my hot older crush/idol who has fucked more people than i’ve ever even met in my lifetime… like a little insecure part of marc is like this is what vale wants… and one thing about my man marc is he will COMMIT. so he waxes himself hairless the entire time they are fucking the first from 2013-2015 (and beyond) and frankly vale would like him either way but MARC gets off on it so hard… making himself pretty for vale… and maybe vale says something like that in the moment, just like mindless dirty talk about how good he looks how he made himself all pretty like a girl, and marc jolts like he’s been electrocuted and whines and comes right then even though vale had like JUST got inside him… and he’s curled around vale panting eyes shining leg hitched around vale’s hip asking him to keep going and it’s SO clear he liked whatever that was a LOT.

so vale uh. catalogs that information. and starts to test some hypotheses #olditalianmeninSTEM by which i mean the next time marc is blowing him he curls his hand into marc’s hair and tugs a little until marc looks him in the eye and vale just sends it like they’re whipping 310km/hr around the track— like breathless mischievous confidence… starts feeding him a stream of dirty talk, calling him gorgeous telling him nasty stuff about his tits riding that lovely edge of complimentary and degrading and getting sooo gender about it, and he watches marc’s eyelashes flutter and his hand on vale’s hip tightens and then marc like. literally chokes himself on valentino’s dick he’s clearly so so into it and vale feels crazyyyyyyy… SORRY..

and then it’s onnnnn baby it is. using the feminine forms of italian endearments in bed. playing with his tits. losing the condom. weird roleplay where they laugh so much. it is delightfully horny and slightly goofy gender transgression that they are both SO obsessed with… like the sex whiplashes through tonal dissonance it is simultaneously the most intense thing they’ve ever felt and like. lethally campy. at one point they are BOTH the baby girls bc they love being hot and are not serious people

that being said it culminates with vale just like. buying disgustingly expensive neon yellow designer lingerie and leaving it in marc’s motorhome with a lil note that has like. a dumbass turtle doodle on it instead of his signature. like something very silly and valentino. and then they have the WORLD’S most insane sex about it where vale says all kind of nasty stuff about marc being his best girl and spits in his mouth and tries to get him pregnant. hashtag catholic weirdo moments. crucially it is never formally discussed until like. genuinely ten years later when vale is like impish nervous smile WE REALLY SHOULD HAVE TALKED ABOUT THAT EH? and marc’s like ? best sex of my life? wdym?

[clawsandpaws-creativearchive]

Farewell

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion (Cabin 15) ~ Cadoo 🐾 (Feel free to reblog + interact with the boy, he's strugglin) Don squeezed his eyes shut, his tail flicked out behind him, thumping repeatedly against the edge of his makeshift bed.

He’d crawled his way home the night before, exhausted from a full week of mischief, exhausted but happy. Don had flopped down into his nest for a well deserved sleep, comfortable, content, and looking forward to the following morning. He had plans to go back to his cabin after breakfast. To visit his friends, his brothers. He’d been woken up by the camp’s final event announcement, blaring over the intercom. “...our camp-sanctioned farewell meeting is upon us.” Don didn’t get up. Oh. Camp was ending. He’d be home soon. Back in his proper dimension. In his proper lair. With dad and Leo, and Raph and Mikey. Leatherhead and Casey and April. Back with his proper family. Like his instincts wanted. Like he wanted. …. Don thought….he thought he’d be happier than this. Excited maybe? At ease? 

Of course he expected to feel a little upset, after spending months connecting with his cabin mates and interacting with other versions of his family it was only natural for there to be a feeling of loss. This experience was never going to last forever, or at least they’d all assumed so. He’d been prepared really, this wouldn’t be the first time that he’d had to part ways with new friends or family. This wasn’t catching him unawares. Really. Logically he knew that. So why…. Why was he so….sad? No. Anxious? Scared. Scared to go back home. He could hear his heartbeat, too fast as it kept pace with the stressed swing of his tail. His head was buzzing just behind it, a not so soothing white noise to fill the gaps between beats. Don wriggled until he could bury his head under the blankets, it did nothing to muffle the noise and he whined, dragging his claws across the bottom of the nest to shred the sheets he was laying on. Not like he’d be needing them much longer. This was ridiculous. Stupid even. On the verge of panic over going back to his rightful universe. Why did that thought scare him? Terrify him?He was going home. Home. Where his nest was. Is. Where his family was. Is. Where they are. And sure, this week would probably be the last time he’d see Mike or Smokey or Mikey or Hunter or Scout or Mercury. But that was expected. That’s how experiences like this worked…when they weren’t orchestrated by some villainous higher power. You come, you meet new people, you leave. Maybe you go on a couple side quests, learn some fun morals and life lessons. Befriend a group of turtles who you can actually have a conversation with again. Sometimes you get to keep a souvenir, sometimes you even get to remember it all! None of that really mattered though, because he’d be going home and he’d be going to see his family and- He’d be alone. Don’s breath stuttered and his throat clicked. His hindlegs pushed him further beneath the blankets, curling up as tightly as he was able. A high distressed trill left his beak, smothered by the folds of the comforter. His head buzzed louder. Half formed thoughts and instincts fighting for purchase. No. That wasn’t right. He wouldn’t be alone. His family was is there. But it’d be quiet again. That didn’t make sense either. Especially when his baby brother was involved. The lair was never quiet. He would be.He would be quiet again.

Don blinked. Something cool slid down his cheek. He’d gotten comfortable here, distracted by the games and newness of it all. He’d forgotten that this wasn’t normal. That he wouldn’t be going back home to something like this. He wouldn’t be able to initiate play or physical touch like he could here with Hunter or Scout or the nibbles. Because his body language wouldn’t be understood. He wouldn’t be able to enter a room and announce himself, say I love you, respond to a question like he could with Mikey or Smokey or Mercury. Because he now spoke a completely different language. He wouldn’t be able to expect the same kind of patience, understanding, or flexibility like he could with Mike. Because he and his brothers were teenagers and despite every crazy thing they’ve experienced thus far it still wasn’t enough to help deal with what was wrong with him.Don would be alone again. And after months of not being alone he wasn’t sure if he could survive that.

[fleet-off]

@aantinous’s marvelous tags on this post reminded me of the silly li’l shapeshifter snake!Vegas AU @theflowergirl Lily and I came up with over DMs a while back!

Snake!Vegas slips into the main family home pretty regularly pre-canon. Sometimes to spy. Sometimes to ruin Tankhun’s afternoon.

One day Pete catches the snake mid-troll! Tankhun is very upset. Pete obliviously sticks the snake in a Tupperware in his room to let it go once his boss’s ire dies down.

He drops a little food in the Tupperware. He doesn’t know what snakes eat, but what’s good for Petes is probably good for snakes?

He has a nice little workout after his shift. A nice little shower. A nice little dance around the room in the half-nude.

That evening he releases the snake in the yard and moves on.

Except now the snake? Keeps showing up at odd times?? Pete could swear it’s the same snake. It doesn’t look like a local species, maybe it’s an escaped pet.

“Maybe it’s just looking for a home,” he thinks, and doesn’t think about why that hits him so hard.

(Meanwhile. Vegas was in it for the spying, the trolling, and the mild voyeurism but now it’s—oh. Oh, he’s? Keeping me safe? This is…new.)

So there’s a snake in Pete’s life now.

Occasionally there’s also a snake in Pete’s bed, which is always a fun discovery in the morning. Still, Pete can’t blame a snake for being coldblooded, can he? And the snake has a cute little :) face. And it hasn’t tried to bite him yet. It may be bonded?

This is normal and fine.

(Getting into Pete’s room involves sneaking out of the minor family home, traversing the main family grounds in serpent form, and sneaking all the way up to the bodyguard quarters. Vegas has not slept with one of Kinn’s escorts in ages—he simply does not have the time.)

(Look, he’s getting under the skin of this main family dog who keeps getting tasked to follow him. It’s funny.)

(It’s turning into instinct. Like birds flying back to the same forest, like turtles returning to the same beach.)

(If he thinks too hard about it, he’s not going to be able to justify it anymore—he does not think about it.)

Vegas’s torture suitcase contains syringes and vials of hallucinatory drugs and neurotoxins in this AU. Just BTW. <3

The plot still plots for the most part, Pete still gets captured…the torment at the safehouse, though, is less Vegas taking his helplessness out on the guy who ruined his plans and more Vegas oscillating emotionally between “he was kind to me nobody’s kind to me what the fuck” and “he’s a representation of my weakness, he was kind to an innocent animal and I was stupid enough to play along.”

The later realization that Pete would choose to show empathy to human Vegas too? Ruinous.

So Vegas comes to torment or talk to or feed Pete during the day…and the snake comes to curl around Pete’s ankle at night. Pete does not know how the hell his snake got here, but he’s pretty delirious and appreciates the small comfort even if it’s a hallucination.

And of course the truth has to come out at the safehouse, because all truths come out at the safehouse.

So it’s invasive, and weird as shit, and a bit of a goddamn mess...but, like. Vegas was already invasive, weird as shit, and a bit of a goddamn mess.

The home thing is starting to make more sense, for Pete. A lot of things are.

(Do some snake-y features show up during the sex, too? Little bit of fang action? Maybe!!)

So the collapse. The escape. The return to a normal no longer satisfied by its stasis.

The second night after Pete’s return, he finds a snake curled around the leg of his bed.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Miserably, he lifts the snake up onto the mattress beside him anyway.

Halfway through the night, he feels warm and solid and human curled up behind him. He doesn’t move.

In the morning, the snake is gone.

(How does this play out in the finale? Who knows. ^^)