#they have always understood what the other needed in the darker moments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strangererotica · 28 days

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Cooper Adams x Reader • Includes themes of violence, murder, blood is mentioned often, period sex, infidelity, oral sex (m&f receiving) Reader and Cooper are both certified freaks seven days a week

You’d suspected for awhile.

You’d wondered even longer.

The question you’d wanted to ask Cooper had sat silent on your tongue so long, you’d have sworn you could taste it by now.

Even still, no amount of wondering could have prepared you for this moment: standing face to blood-streaked face with the man you loved, the question on your tongue quietly dying as it no longer needed answering-

Cooper Adams, your boyfriend, was The Butcher…

He stood still, lingering in the doorway, the one at the back of the house. Cooper had brought you here a couple of times, to smoke and fuck; and each time, he’d always brought you through that door, the one less likely to draw attention from neighbors. The house was isolated, but not completely. With Cooper being a married man, you’d understood his concerns and hadn’t objected to being brought in through the back of the house. Now however, it was obvious that he used the back door to conceal a much darker secret than his infidelity.

His left eye twitched, lips forced into a placating smile that chilled you to your core. “(Y/N)?” Cooper began, his voice wavering. “What are you doing here?” You swallowed as cracks in Cooper’s fake smile began to reveal themselves. Heavy rain pelted the ground behind him, lightning briefly illuminating his silhouette, tall and intimidating. He tightened his grip on the duffel bag slung over his shoulder; the sudden movement made you flinch, which Cooper found amusing.

Blood caked his jeans and the plaid flannel button-down he wore. His hair was tossed to the sides of his face, except for a few strands that seemed to be matted against his forehead with sweat. Cooper’s jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck flexing as he chewed the inside of his mouth, thinking. He’d have to get rid of you now, and that upset him. Cooper had enjoyed you, and not just fucking you. He’d grown fond of your dark sense of humor and the way both your mind and his seemed to play well with each other.

If he was being totally honest with himself, Cooper could even admit that he loved you. He’d confided in you, shared secrets of his past, his traumatic upbringing, the way he’d never been accepted by his mother or anyone else for that matter, until meeting his wife. And later, meeting you.

Your histories and minds were similar, in so many ways. Unfortunately, you’d proven yourself too clever for your own good…too clever to keep alive.

Cooper sighed, his insincere smile returning. “This is going to hurt,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “I mean that, (Y/N).” He took a step toward you; you shifted backward. “And I’m not even talking about the pain,” he continued. “Not the kind you’ll feel…” Cooper removed something from the bag, his eyes fixed on yours. It took you a second to identify the knife in his hand; it was so caked with partially-dried blood, you could barely make out what it was.

“…I’m talking about the pain I’ll feel,” Cooper continued, bringing the soiled knife to rest against his chest. “Here…in my heart.” He kicked his heel against the door, closing it behind him with a loud thud. You jumped, recoiling at the sound. Cooper held his hands tensed at his sides, the knife tucked under his right thumb. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, taking another step closer. You didn’t back away this time; your mind was racing for a solution, for a way to make Cooper understand that killing you wasn’t necessary.

“Then don’t,” you told him, trying to sound brave. You hoped he couldn’t see you trembling, couldn’t hear the plea in your next words even as you tried to suppress it: “Don’t kill me, Cooper…”

His expression was bittersweet, a resigned sigh leaving his chest. “They all say that,” Cooper told you, his voice eerily calm. “None of them want to die, (Y/N). They all beg me not to kill them.” He changed his voice to a slightly higher pitch, imitating his victims. “ ‘Don’t kill me, please…I’ll do anything, please…Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone’ .” Cooper’s free hand shot out and grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you into him, erasing the remaining space between you. “What makes you think you’re any different from the rest of the people I’ve murdered?” he glared down at you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, so hot it burned. “I’m different because I love you, Cooper,” you told him. And you meant it. His grip on your wrist softened immediately, the tension in his jaw easing. “I don’t care that you’re The Butcher, or whatever stupid nickname they’ve given you,” you continued. “I accept you. Cooper, I love you.” A few seconds passed in silence. “Have any of the others ever said that?”

Cooper’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as he wrestled with the conflicting messages inside him. One said to protect himself by ending your life. The second option was much more tempting for Cooper, to grant you the mercy of life, a privilege which he alone now held.

Cooper pressed his lips to the top of your head, his knife ghosting your cheek as he used the hand that held it to stroke your hair. His breath was heavy, his chest rumbling against your cheek as he spoke. “What am I going to do with you?” Cooper asked. It wasn’t a question at all, not really. You lifted your chin, eyes fixed on Cooper’s, tilting your head so the blade in his hand was deliberately primed against your throat. An offering up, not of surrender, but of submission. He’d seen his share of tears, heard more than enough screams to fill his ears a lifetime; but the way your resistance melted in front of him touched something in Cooper that hadn’t been touched in a long time, if ever. Faced with the darkest part of his soul, you still accepted him.

You placed a hand tentatively on Cooper’s forearm, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows. While his hands were clean from wearing gloves, Cooper’s forearms were spattered with blood, a viscous crimson syrup drying in the tufts of hair lining his skin. He repeated his question, a huskier, seductive tone making his meaning crystal clear: “…what am I going to do with you?”

Cooper released his grip on the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter, as lightning lit up the room, thunder rumbling close by. He was bent forward slightly so your foreheads could touch, his eyes drifting closed as you smoothed your hands across his broad shoulders. Warm breath dusted your neck as Cooper’s kiss traveled down the slope of your shoulder, his big hands securing you in place at the small of your back. The energy between you was electric, buzzing like an alarm whose warning you refused to heed. You were in too deep, now. With Cooper, you always had been.

He began to work the buttons of his flannel undone, as you went down to your knees. You looked up at Cooper from between his feet, his heavy boots caked with mud and grass from the storm outside. Lightning struck very close to the house; the lights flickered as thunder bellowed from above. And then, the room went dark, moonlight alone providing any visual for the two of you.

Cooper was unaffected by the loss of electricity. He folded his shirt and set it aside, hands moving to undo his belt and jeans. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness quickly; you were able to make out the image of Cooper, his hulking frame towering over yours, stray strands of hair fallen forward as he watched you at his feet. You were on your knees in front of The Butcher himself, and it felt…exhilarating. Rather than making a plea for your life, your tongue was gently pleading for his sex, padding thick and wet against the outline of Cooper’s erection.

He tugged his zipper down and freed his cock, the wet tip tapping against your lips in the darkness. You felt Cooper’s hand come to rest atop your head, his fingers knotting softly inside your hair, guiding you gently onto him. The only sounds in the room were Cooper’s shallow breaths and grunts, and the wet sucking sound of your throat closing around him. Cooper let you suck him a moment longer, before removing his cock from your mouth, breathily explaining “-the shower, baby-want to fuck you in the shower.” He felt around the floor for his duffel bag and retrieved a flashlight from inside it. Switching it on, Cooper smiled when he saw your streaked makeup in the light, knowing his cock had made a mess of it. He held the flashlight between his teeth and trotted upstairs with you, using the beam to light your way.

The bathroom in its entirety wasn’t that large but thankfully, the shower was. Cooper switched on the faucet and held his arm under the water stream to check the temperature, bits of dried blood re-wetting and dripping to the shower floor. You’d quickly discarded your own clothes and stepped inside, around the water stream till Cooper had adjusted it. He shed his pants and hastily folded them before tossing them onto the sink. He was in a hurry; he’d never wanted you this badly before.

The flashlight’s battery was almost dead, its last real bit of power used on the way upstairs. Now, you and Cooper were essentially in complete darkness again, except for the moonlight threading through the small bathroom window. Cooper had no trouble manipulating your body in the darkness. His right hand slipped immediately between your thighs, reaching around with his other arm and pulling your chest into his. Warm water cascaded down Cooper’s back and shoulders, dripping along his chest and between your breasts where your bodies were pressed together. His fingers rubbed rough circles over your clit, making your hips buck into the heel of his palm as you selfishly chased your climax. “That’s a good girl,” Cooper murmured in the darkness, his breath labored with arousal. “Gonna come for me just like this, yeah?” You whimpered a reply, but Cooper wasn’t satisfied. “Oh, you can do better than that, sweetheart,” he said. “Use your words. Tell me how you’re gonna come-.” He dipped his head forward, teeth catching the soft skin of your neck and biting just enough to make you squirm even more wildly on his hand. “Ungh-on-oh!” you squeaked, your hips trembling. “-On your h-hand, S-Sir!”

Cooper’s face was stoic but satisfied in the darkness; he was in his element, his happy place. He was in control. As you quivered and shook on his hand cupping your pussy, Cooper slid his other hand around your throat, briefly silencing your scramble of moans and whimpers. “WORDS, baby,” he gently reprimanded, his fingertips tapping against your pulse. “Can’t give you what you want till you ask for it-.”

Cooper slipped a finger between your lips, hooking around the smooth spot inside you, your spongy walls sucking his finger greedily. Your head fell backward, a string of desperate pleas tumbling from your mouth, interspersed with Cooper’s name. He let you come, giving you what you needed because you’d asked for it so nicely. You gushed all over Cooper’s hand and wrist, slick spilling between his fingers and onto the shower floor. He couldn’t see it in the darkness, and he didn’t need to; he could feel your blood on his fingers, knew the texture well and that your orgasm had surely painted the shower floor red at his feet.

He removed his finger from inside you, once you’d stopped squeezing it, and popped the slippery digit inside his mouth. A coppery, musky flavor sank warm on his tastebuds; Cooper exhaled gratefully through his nose, releasing his finger only after sucking every drop of you from it.

Lightning crackled above the house as Cooper lowered himself to his knees in front of you. You rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning into his sturdy frame as he sank his mouth between your legs. Cooper’s tongue found exactly what he’d hoped to find, what he craved…more of your sweet arousal tinged with the bitter tang of fresh blood.

You knew you were bleeding; your period had started that morning. You also knew that Cooper had a preference for fucking you on your period; you’d just never really thought much of it. The truth was, the blood aroused Cooper, reminded him of his other, secret life, and the power he held over others. Seeing himself covered in someone else’s blood, especially such intimate places like his cock, helped Cooper achieve the most powerful orgasms imaginable. It’s one of the reasons he’d grown to love you; your openness to trying literally anything sexually was liberating, allowing Cooper the chance to indulge his most taboo fantasies. One of those fantasies included eating you out on your period. He’d tried to bring other women around to the idea, but each of them had been repulsed by even the suggestion. You, however, had no reservations about letting Cooper use your body however he wanted, in whatever state it was in…

His tongue bathed your outer lips, licking them clean. Cooper massaged his cock in lazy strokes, in no hurry to come just yet. When the tip of his tongue pressed inside you, he grinned against your pussy at the way your soft, wet entrance trembled around him.

One of your hands was now on Cooper’s head, fingers locked in the strands of his hair. When he hoisted your leg over his left shoulder, you braced yourself against him, knowing he wouldn’t let you fall. Cooper held you steady as he nuzzled and lapped your essence, his eyes closed in a kind of reverent, trance-like high. It was the closest Cooper had ever come to a religious experience, drinking your most precious offering at the altar of your thighs, and for him, it was more than enough.

When he’d made you come twice more on his tongue, Cooper rose to stand, pressing red kisses to your belly and breasts that looked like lipstick marks. He reached for you in the darkness, his hands pulling your hips closer. You felt Cooper’s erection prodding between your thighs, and closed your hands around it. He hissed in a sharp breath as you grazed his tip; he was so sensitive, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Get on your knees,” Cooper panted urgently, his hand on your head pushing you downward. You sank to the shower floor, letting Cooper guide his cock into your mouth in the darkness. Lightning flashed outside, briefly revealing his blood-soaked lips parted in desperation, his eyes fixed on you at his feet while he used your mouth for his own satisfaction.

Cooper finished down your throat with a growl, his stomach tense as hot streams of cum pulsed over your tongue. You swallowed his seed with a contented grin, humming softly around Cooper’s shaft as you tugged the last drops of his cum between your lips.

The water continued to pour over your bodies as Cooper cradled you against his chest, rocking you gently. In that moment, he almost regretted his decision, almost thought of changing his mind. But there was no sense in getting sloppy after all these years, after so long a run of keeping his secret life secret.

Cooper glanced at the bathroom sink. A thin sliver of moonlight cast onto the knife you hadn’t noticed him bring upstairs along with the flashlight. He pressed his lips to your forehead one last time in a silent kiss goodbye, and reached toward the sink…

#trap movie #cooper adams #smut #josh hartnett #trap #trap movie smut #cooper adams trap #trap 2024 #cooper adams x y/n #josh hartnett cooper adams #cooper adams smut #cooper adams x you #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams x fem!reader #the butcher #murder daddy

152 notes · View notes

sehodreams · 9 months

Note

how riize tells you they want to fuck you 🫨

For me this is tooth rooting, sorry if you wanted something darker 🤣

TW and Tags: MDNI, smut, sexual content, all consensual.

Shotaro doesn't tell you a single word, you can just see it, he stares at you with his usual sweet smile, but the air changes, his hand petting your hair would slowly go down to your arm, and then, when you asked him if he needed anything from you because he kept pressing his fingers on your hand after his interlocked with yours, he'd look at you, doe eyes silently asking for you to pay attention to him.

Sungchan is also touchy, but he's more playful, he would start playing fights, or he'd bother you to distract you from whatever you were doing, he'd laugh and act almost like always, so you wouldn't notice it until, when you wanted him to stop, instead of laughing and leaving you, he'd bite his lip and look up to you like a child, smiling sweetly and innocently, but with his hand intruding the border of your top, touchind the skin with his fingers, and then pressing your waist with both hands to move you closer to him so you could feel his boner against your lower tummy.

Seunghan likes to talk a lot, sometimes even tiring you, but when he was horny his jokes/comments start to get more and more raunchy, making you blush and soak your panties like instinct, "you know what? Instead of doing those squats you hate so much you should just jump over my cock, I could do the work for you and I'm sure you'd get the same results", he'd pat his thigh and laugh his ass off at your shocked face, you not believing the nasty comment that just left his mouth, and as weak as you were, he'd have you doing exactly what he said in a matter of minutes.

Anton, just like Seunghan and Sungchan, wouldn't say anything neither, but he'd start lo laugh more than usual, and you love to make him laugh so you'd continue talking and letting comments all around like a joke machine, but when he gets closer and hugs you, you accepting it innocently thinking it was your reward for making him happy, he would give you a kiss deeper than usual, tongue finding yours instantly, firing something inside you before you could think, and when you wanted to say something, trapped in his hug, like a snake and his prey, he'd shut you up, moving your chin up to look at him, "open your mouth for me" he'd murmur, and with the air dense around you both, you'd obey to anything he said.

Wonbin is whiny, he'd directly press his cock to your ass and would start to say how much he missed you, asking why weren't you always by his side like it was your fault he was busy all the time, and if you told him to wait, he'd push you saying "but I need you", kissing your neck until you accepted.

Sohee thinks communication is important, and even if sometimes he had problems to say his needs, he'd be as clear as he could, "I missed you too much, can i touch you?, please" he's so sweet, hugging you and letting you pet him while he talks and says when and how he missed you, "that day, when I was in my room, i couldn't stop remembering the last time we saw each other, and how gorgeous you looked taking care of me", making you laugh, he had a way to say everything softer, prettier, like there, when he said that instead of just a "I kept thinking how you sucked my cock", so you, interpreting his words, understood what he needed from you at that moment.

Eunseok is rather blunt, directly telling you nasty stuff like "my cock missed you", or "could you do me a favor and sit on my face?", but if he didn't feel like making it obvious, he'd just make you horny with soft touches, not looking into your eyes, kissing that spot behind your ear, brushing your chest with his hand, or caressing your hair and, just for a second, wrapping your throat with his hand, perfectly knowing what he wanted and how to push you into it, and he'd act clueless when you told him you knew what he was doing, "I'm not doing anything, but you look like you need something from me, so what is it?"

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #eunseok x reader #sungchan x reader #wonbin x reader #sohee x reader #shotaro x reader #seunghan x reader #anton smut #seunghan smut #sungchan smut #shotaro smut #sohee smut #eunseok smut #wonbin smut

557 notes · View notes

zvouyage · 21 days

Text

killing me, killing me softly .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing.ᐟ ; yandere!jake x fmr . . . angst + gore , toxic established relationships . . . précis.ᐟ ; jake doesn’t like the idea of you running away from his love nor of other men loving you.

w.c.ᐟ ; 2870 words ( 𝒷ack 𝓉o 𝒷log ? )

warnings.ᐟ ; obsessive - possessive behaviour , manipulation , toxicity , choking , a single knife , blood , guilt tripping ? or is it gaslighting ? idk either. stockholm syndrome , lowercase intended && not proofread , etc.

notes.ᐟ ; just trying out a new way to write a summary && also testing to see if people enjoy and like reading yandere themed stories . . . 🕷️

the night was alive with the buzz of city lights, neon signs flickering like promises unkept, and the hum of distant traffic blending with the pulse of the crowded streets. somewhere in the labyrinth of it all, you were hidden, a pearl within the murky depths of the night, trying to escape a life that had become a nightmare. but you should have known better. he always found you.

it wasn't the first time jake had appeared from the shadows, his presence heavy and intoxicating, like a drug you could never fully rid from your system. but tonight, something was different. you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into you as you sat at the bar, the drink in your hand trembling slightly. his gaze was a storm of anger and something darker, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. "thought you could run from me?" his voice was smooth, almost gentle, but laced with a venom that sent shivers down your spine.

you didn't dare meet his eyes, knowing that you'd be lost the moment you did. instead, you focused on the amber liquid in your glass, watching it swirl as your heart raced. "i wasn't running," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. jake's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a force that made you wince. he pulled you off the barstool and into the dim light of the alleyway outside. the contrast between the warm, inviting atmosphere of the bar and the cold, threatening air of the alley was stark. the night seemed to close in around you, the walls of the alleyway like the bars of a cage. he pressed you against the brick wall, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered into your ear, "you think i don't see what you're doing? you think i don't know you've been trying to get away from me?” the fear that had been simmering under the surface boiled over, and you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes. they were dark, nearly black in the shadow of the alley, and filled with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "i just needed space," you tried to reason, but the words felt hollow, even to you. how could you explain the suffocating feeling that came with his love, the way his possessiveness wrapped around your throat like a noose?

"space?" jake laughed, the sound bitter and twisted. "i give you everything. i make sure no one else even looks at you, and you want space?” his grip on your wrist tightened, and you cried out, more from the fear than the pain. but he didn't relent. instead, he brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, "you belong to me. no one else will ever have you." there was a finality in his words that sent a chill down your spine. you knew jake was dangerous, that he had a darkness inside him that he tried to keep hidden behind a charming smile. but until now, you hadn't fully understood the extent of it. “jake, please," you begged, tears stinging your eyes. "you're hurting me." for a moment, something flickered in his eyes, a hint of the jake you had fallen in love with. but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, calculating look that had become all too familiar.

he loosened his grip, but didn't let go. instead, he ran a hand through your hair, his touch deceptively gentle as he whispered, "i can't lose you. i won't." you swallowed hard, your mind racing for a way out, for something-anything-that could defuse the situation. but every time you thought you had a chance, his grip would tighten again, a silent reminder of the control he had over you. “let's go home” he said finally, his voice softening, as if nothing had happened. "we can talk about this." you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. the only thing you could do now was play along, hope that you could find a way to escape once you were away from the alley, away from the eyes that might witness the truth of what your relationship had become.

he led you out of the alley, his hand still gripping yours like a shackle, and you followed, your heart pounding in your chest. the streets were quieter now, the nightlife beginning to wind down, and the silence was almost suffocating. as you walked, jake kept glancing at you, his expression unreadable. you knew he was trying to gauge your mood, trying to figure out if you were still planning to leave him. but you kept your face neutral, your thoughts hidden behind a mask of compliance.

when you reached his car, he opened the door for you, a gesture that might have seemed chivalrous in another context. but now, it felt like the final step in sealing your fate. you slid into the passenger seat, your mind still racing, trying to figure out a way to escape. the drive was tense, the silence between you thick with unspoken words. you kept your gaze out the window, watching as the city lights blurred into streaks of color. but no matter how fast jake drove, you couldn't escape the feeling that you were trapped, that this was the end.

finally, the car came to a stop outside the small house you had once called home. but now, it felt like a prison. jake got out first, walking around to your side and opening the door. you hesitated for a moment, but then forced yourself to step out, knowing that there was no other option. as soon as you were inside, jake closed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the silence of the house. you felt a shiver run down your spine as you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “let's talk," he said, his voice calm, but with an edge that made you wary. you followed him into the living room, sitting down on the couch as he took a seat next to you. the space between you was almost non-existent, his presence overwhelming. “why do you keep trying to leave me?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a dangerous kind of curiosity. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "jake, i love you, but..."

"but what?" he interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "you don't trust me? you think i'm some kind of monster?" the words hung in the air, and you could see the anger building in him again. but beneath it, there was something else-something that made your heart ache with both fear and pity. "i think...you're too much," you admitted, your voice trembling. "your love is too much, jake. it's suffocating me." for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, but it wasn't the kind that reached his eyes. it was the kind of smile that made your blood run cold. “suffocating you?" he echoed, his tone almost mocking. "is that what you think this is?" before you could react, he lunged forward, pinning you against the couch. his hands wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, but just enough to make you feel the threat behind the gesture.

"jake, stop!" you gasped, panic rising in your chest as you struggled against him. but he didn't let go. instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "you don't get to leave me. not now, not ever. you're mine." the darkness in his eyes was suffocating, a void that threatened to consume you whole. you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of hysteria, the reality of the situation crashing down on you like a wave. “i’ll be good," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face as you fought to breathe. "please, jake...i'II stay. just don't-"

"shh," he hushed you, his grip loosening slightly, but not enough to let you escape. "don't cry, baby. i don't want to hurt you." but you knew that was a lie. he was already hurting you, and the worst part was, you could see the twisted satisfaction in his eyes as he did it. “i love you," he said, his voice almost tender now, as if that could erase the terror he had just inflicted. "i'll always love you." and that was the problem. his love was all-consuming, a darkness that had wrapped itself around you like a vice, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't break free. “you love me too, don't you?" he asked, his tone gentle, but with an underlying threat. you nodded frantically, the fear choking your words. "yes, i love you. i love you, jake." his smile widened, and he finally released his hold on you, sitting back as if nothing had happened. but the look in his eyes told you that this was far from over. "you'll stay with me?" he asked, his voice soft, but with an edge that made it clear there was only one right answer. “yes, i’ll stay.." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "good girl" he praised, reaching out to caress your cheek. "we're going to be so happy together." but even as he said the words, you knew that happiness was a distant dream. the reality was that you were trapped, caught in the web of jake's twisted love, and there was no escape.

as the night wore on, jake's mood seemed to shift, the earlier intensity fading into something more dangerous-a calmness that was almost more terrifying than his rage. “why don't we celebrate?" he suggested, his tone light and almost playful. "we could go somewhere special, just the two of us." you hesitated, your mind racing with possible scenarios. but before you could respond, jake stood up, pulling you to your feet as well. “come on," he urged, his grip on your hand firm but not painful. "it'll be fun. i promise." you knew better than to argue. the last thing you wanted was to provoke another outburst, so you nodded and followed him out of the house.

the drive was silent, but the tension between you was palpable. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as you stared out the window, trying to calm the storm of fear and anxiety swirling inside you.

after what felt like an eternity, the car came to a stop in front of an old, abandoned building on the outskirts of town. the windows were shattered, the walls covered in graffiti, and the whole place exuded an air of decay and danger. “jake, what is this?" you asked, your voice trembling as you looked around, your heart pounding in your chest. “it's our special place," he said, his voice filled with a strange kind of excitement. "no one will bother us here." your stomach churned with dread as he led you inside, the air thick with dust and the smell of mildew. the dim light from the moon filtered through the broken windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls. “this used to be a theatre," jake explained, his voice echoing through the empty space. "but now it's just ours." he led you deeper into the building, until you reached the stage. the old, tattered curtains still hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the breeze that blew through the broken windows. “isn't it beautiful?" jake asked, his eyes gleaming with a manic energy as he looked around. "we can be anything we want here!" you could barely breathe, the fear and the claustrophobia closing in on you like a vise. but you knew that any sign of weakness would only make things worse. “yes," you lied, forcing a smile. "it's...perfect." jake's grin widened, and he pulled you onto the stage, twirling you around as if you were the star of some macabre play. but even as you danced with him, the sense of dread only grew stronger. “i knew you'd like it!” he said, his voice filled with pride. "this is where we'll start over. just the two of us." his words sent a chill down your spine, and you tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, holding you close.“don't you want that?" he asked, his tone almost pleading, but with an underlying threat that made your blood run cold. “of course," you said quickly, forcing yourself to smile. "just the two of us.."

"good," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "because you're mine now. forever.." the darkness in his voice was suffocating, and you could feel the tears building up again, but you fought them back, knowing that crying would only make things worse. “let's make a promise," jake said suddenly, his eyes bright with excitement. “a promise that we'll always be together, no matter what!" he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light. your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively took a step back, but he caught your wrist, pulling you close again. “don't be scared," he whispered, his voice soothing, but with an edge that made you shiver. "this is just a little blood. it's a symbol of our love." you knew better than to argue, so you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched him press the blade against his palm, a small cut appearing as he drew it across his skin. “your turn," he said, holding out the knife to you, his eyes dark and expectant. with trembling hands, you took the knife, your mind screaming at you to run, to escape this nightmare. but the fear of what he might do if you refused kept you rooted to the spot. you closed your eyes, the cold metal of the blade pressing against your palm as you made a small cut, the pain sharp and immediate. “now, we're one," jake said, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pressed his bloody hand against yours, the blood mixing together in a twisted symbol of unity.

the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, but Jake didn't seem to notice. he was too caught up in the moment, his eyes bright with a manic kind of joy. “this is our beginning.." he whispered, his voice filled with a strange kind of reverence. "no one will ever come between us..” but even as he said the words, you knew that this was no beginning. it was an ending-an ending to the life you had once known, an ending to any hope of escape. jake leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, a twisted mix of love and dominance. “you're mine," he whispered again, his voice soft but with an underlying threat. “and i'II kill anyone who tries to take you from me." the words sent a chill down your spine, and you knew that he meant them. jake was dangerous, more dangerous than you had ever realised, and now you were trapped, bound to him by a twisted love that would never let you go.

the knife was still in your hand, the blade slick with your blood, and for a moment, you considered using it – considered ending this nightmare – once and for all. but then jake pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that was both comforting and suffocating, and the thought slipped away, replaced by the overwhelming fear of what he might do if you tried to escape. “you love me," he said, his voice filled with certainty. "and i love you. that's all that matters." you nodded, the tears still streaming down your face as you whispered, "yes, jake. i love you too..." but even as you said the words, you knew that love was not enough. love would not save you from the darkness that had consumed him, from the twisted possessiveness that now ruled his every action. and as the night wore on, you realised that there was no escape. you were bound to him, forever trapped in a love that was as dangerous as it was consuming.

in the dim light of the abandoned theatre, jake smiled, his eyes filled with a manic kind of joy as he whispered, "till death do us part.." and with those words, you knew that there was no turning back. you were his, now and forever, trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape. and as the darkness closed in around you, you realised that the only way out was through death – a death that jake would gladly give you if you ever tried to leave him. but for now, all you could do was play along, pretending that this twisted love was enough, even as the fear gnawed away at your soul. because in jake's world, there was no escape. only a love that was as suffocating as it was deadly.

and in the end, it would consume you both.

@zvouyage. 24/plagiarism won't be tolerated on my page.

#enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen yandere #jake imagines #jaeyun imagines #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake imagines #• zeynep’s delulu kingdom ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #• zeynep’s delulu kingdom’s menu ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #• zeynep’s delulu kingdom’s artworks ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #• enhypen ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི!

142 notes · View notes

spdrvyn · 1 year

Text

second chance headcanons — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel breaks up with you out of concern for your safety, he tries to reassure himself that he did the right thing but he can't help how he yearns for your presence, your warmth, you every single day. how does he deal with it? do you two get back together?

THIS FIC CONTAINS: angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. somewhat suggestive content. pathetic miguel (for my enjoyment and yours). spider-person reader. slightly possessive miguel.

NOTES: i have nothing to say. i was possessed while i wrote this. STREAM PROMISE BY LAUFEY IT POWERED ME THROUGH THIS POST FR!!! also this is kinda long lol

× there is one leading factor as to why i think miguel would break up with you. being that he's so scared of getting comfortable, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, and get overly-attached. × he's grateful for you, he always will be but how long would that last before you'd be snatched from his careful grasp? even if your fates aligned, he was scared of even being open. that the moment he let you know of his deepest insecurities, you'd go running. × keeping a distance was just a habit that was hard to let go off, he did show he loved you but not in the ways that you needed or craved. pure physical affection wasn't enough, the tiniest gestures weren't enough, it wasn't enough. he knew that.

× which lead to the demise of your relationship, it was so utterly painful to watch his words sink in and the tears starting to breach from your waterline. he couldn't bring himself to hug you because how could he be so kind after doing something like that? × he couldn't be vulnerable, he had to be strong. keeping his emotions in check even as you said that you understood and if this is what made him happy then you'd go through with it, that you respected his wishes like the kind soul that you were and soon left. leaving him with an air of regret and yearning. × work isn't easier for him either, and that's normally the first thing on his list of suppressing his emotions. how hard he tried to conceal his shame whenever you two just happened to pass by each other in the halls of the headquarters. × you could see it too, let it not be said that you were oblivious. you had picked up on when miguel was trying to tamp down his feelings during the time of your previous relationship, and it was clear he was still trying to do it now. × if you were being completely honest with yourself, you tried doing the same since miguel was so insistent on shutting himself out, you might as well give it a shot. right? well, not really. each and every time you thought about him and no matter how hard you tried, it would spill out through sobs and long rants to your friends (to their misfortune). × you've learned to be more non-chalant about the break up, acknowledging that you couldn't really do anything about it. however, it didn't stop your heart from beating at a hundred miles an hour whenever you were within an arm's length from miguel. being alone with him certainly didn't make it better.

His voice rung in your head like a chant. Meet me in my office later, meet me in my office later, meet me in my office later. It's like he was haunting you, the sound of your own footsteps not even making it to your ears as you trudged closer and closer to his chambers.

Were you scared? Yes. Absolutely fucking terrified. However, it's not because you feared he was going to scold or yell at you, but because you've haven't been alone with him for a while.

Yes, one-on-one office meetings did happen from time to time but it's been days since your last one with him, and you certainly weren't expecting it to come so soon.

It felt darker than usual when you walked in, the platform that he normally stands on now lowered to it's fullest. You were well familiarized with his lab and it's layout, a lot has changed.

The brewing stations that he was so stern about cleaning now scattered, some stray vials even shattered on the floor. There were papers everywhere, unreadable from the dimness of the room but even from your viewpoint you could see how illegible his handwriting was when he was scribbling down on them.

Before you could observe his workspace any further, he steps down from his platform. Your eyes immediately flickering up, it unsettled you so much. Everything about this was unsettling. His eyes, you knew how to study his expression, a talent you gained from being the only person that Miguel really tolerated, but now? He was completely unreadable, like you didn't recognize him anymore.

Your gaze trails down to his chest, where it rosed and fell a lot faster than it usually did. He seemed erratic almost, you remembered when he'd come home to you in that kind of state and most of the time it would normally end in the bedroom.

Since you don't want to be caught staring at his pecs, you clear your throat and fight to make eye contact with him. "Sorry, what did you need me here for?"

Miguel looks as if he's lost in a trance for a moment, boring his eyes into yours until he snaps out of it and turns his head away - breaking the very uncomfortable exchange of eye contact.

"You got hurt during your last operation." His voice sounded hoarse, more so than usual at least. You really wondered what the hell Miguel was doing before you got in here, you were aware that he took some sort of drug to stabilize his DNA, maybe he hasn't taken his shots yet? You're too scared to ask.

"A lot of people got hurt," You begun to explain, crossing your arms and digging your fingers into your arms as to prevent yourself from stuttering. "I got a gash on my arm, but I went to the infirmary and got it fixed up so it's fine. I'm fine."

There goes that silence. That grating unbearable silence that forces you to hear every pin drop, every whir of a machine, and every distant laugh of yet another obnoxious Spider-person. Everything went quiet which made every other noise so fucking deafening, it irked you.

You wanted him to say something, to do something, to even just breathe a little louder because you knew the moment that he'd make even just a single nose that he'd get your attention right away.

Seems like you prayed a little too hard. He puts a hand on your shoulder and it sends shocks straight to your palpitating heart, he leans in close. Not close enough to have alarms blaring in your head, but he was very close.

"But you got hurt too. That's—" Suddenly, his head drops down and he stares at the floor for a few moments. You get a good view of his messy, dark brown curls before he looks back up again, before letting go of your shoulder. "Nevermind. Get out."

There goes the moment, as per usual. You huff a sigh of relief? Disappointment? You weren't quite sure, processing the emotions you just felt was a job for later, you had more pressing matters to attend to right now.

"Right, I'm sorry." You had no idea what you were apologizing for either, but it felt like you should be sorry.

× little did you know that that wouldn't be the last time you'd say sorry to miguel. you didn't consider yourself to be the most apologetic person, but with most things, miguel seemed to have unlocked that part of you as well.

× sometimes it would be over the smallest, most obscure encounters. like brushing fingers whenever you two reach for the same item in the cafeteria, whenever he drops a pen and you both try to pick it up at the same time.

× it's not like it got any better than that. whenever miguel wanted to meet up with you, this time not about you getting injured during operations (although if you did, it would consume most of the conversation) but even about the most mundane things, the meeting would end with an overwhelming silence that you'd have to break with the same pathetic "i'm sorry".

× miguel didn't know either, he thought he did but lyla has reassured him that it's just the overthinking talking and that he was worrying over it too much. even then, he still felt like it was his fault that you constantly had to apologize to him for reasons unknown. it was so pitiful, he couldn't stand seeing you like that. he'd rather die.

× this bad habit of yours didn't help either of you. every time you apologized to him, every time you looked at him, every time you spoke to him, every time you breathed in his direction, that pit of want in his stomach only continued to grow and that impulsive thought at the back of his head that tells him to just relent and beg for you back continued to grow louder and louder.

× no matter where he went, he'd be reminded of you. you were like a sticker he couldn't peel off, a tattoo that would never fade. he'd find bits and pieces of you in his home, around the city. whether it would be him scrolling past the channels late at night and coming across your favorite show, standing in front of the television in a daze as the memories come back to him before turning it off.

× or your smell would count as well. when he'd be going patrolling through the citys in the day and come across a perfume shop, it's like he has to physically restrain himself from barging inside geared in his suit just because he could smell your scent from the inside. he simply couldn't take it anymore, it's like his senses were going haywire.

× he needed you. he was going to fix this.

Miguel had never looked in the mirror more times in his life than now.

"Come on, Miguel. I'm sure you look fine! See? Look at that cute face," Lyla cooed in mock affection as Miguel scowled at her through the reflection of the mirror. "Not so cute anymore."

He ignored her comments, running his hand through his thick hair in a poor attempt in trying to getit to fall down in a more 'attractive' way (according to Lyla's fashion articles) but it just didn't seem to work. That's the downside of having consistently styled hair, Miguel huffs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Do I have everything?" He looks back up as Lyla flickers over to his kitchen counter, scanning the items on it through her careful gaze and heart-shaped sunglasses. Once she's done, she gives him a small thumbs-up. "Donuts and flowers are still here like they were fifteen minutes ago, Miguel."

He hated the fact that he kept checking his presents were going to disappear if he looked away for too long or stopped paying attention, he wasn't going to let his gifts for you slip out of his fingers this time. Not on his watch. Not toda—

"These flowers will wilt if you don't hurry up."

"Fine, fine. Stop rushing me."

With a few clicks of his watch, that same blinding portal opened up in front of him as he hesitantly walked into it. He clutched the flowers and donuts in an iron grip, trying to make sure no flowers flew out of the bouquet and all twelve donuts were still contained in the box.

He stood in the dimly lit hallway of your apartment, doors lining up on each side. The nerves were starting to creep up on him, very clear from the way that the paper that wrapped the bouquet so nicely was now crumpled. He sighed, dejected.

"You're going to do fine, Miguel." Lyla interjected.

"You don't know that," He begins taking very, very small strides towards your apartment door which made Lyla's virtual eyeballs roll to the back of her head. "We both won't know for sure unless you try, besides I sense that I'll be going offline soon."

"You don't have intuition. You're an artificial intelligence."

"You're going to kiss your soon-to-be in five minutes lover with that mouth?" Miguel followed the routine of angrily swatting Lyla away even as he's about to show up to your door, about to pour his whole heart out to you, though it's inevitable. She'll find a way to be witty about something, he'll get mad and tell her to leave, before coming back to grovel. There's a bit of pattern in that, no?

All the anxiety that Miguel has been trying to push down to the dark crevices of his heart were all coming back to him as he raised a shaking finger to ring your doorbell, countless scenarios rushing through his head. What if this was the wrong door? What if you were sleeping and he rudely interrupted you? What if you weren't home? What if you were dead? Oh, he hated that thought.

The door to your apartment swung open to his surprise, and the fingers he had clasped around the flowers soon unclenched when he caught the sight of you.

You were wearing just a shirt, a really big shirt. Which only really meant that it belonged to him, he recalled letting you borrow his clothes if he ever accidentally tore through them in the 'heat' of the moment. Where you'd promise that you'd return it in a week or so, but it never made it's way back to him, and he has grown more than content with that prospect.

He could catch a whiff of your apartment. It reeked of instant ramen packets, and it seemed like you opened more than one. He could catch a peek at the rest of your space as well, it was dimly lit and the TV is paused. The bowl of ramen sat comfortably on the coffee table in front of the couch, there were also a lot of crumpled up tissues littered across the surface which made him assume you were literally just crying.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally looked at your face. Eyes a little red, slighly puffy, and droplets of water hanging from your chin like you'd just washed your face. Your normally well-kept hair was a mess, and every detail of you in the moment made Miguel's heart drum loudly in his chest.

"Miguel," At last, you spoke. Voice raspier than he remembered it. "You— why are you here? If this is about work then my watch is in my bedroom, I'm sorry if I didn't answer your calls."

Yes, of course because him standing in your doorway with a wonderful bouquet of flowers and your favorite donuts definitely meant that he was here to talk about business. He shook his head, "No, I'm not here for work. Not at all."

He bestowed the gifts to you, and no matter how confused you are right now, you still gladly took them in your hands. The way that you looked up at him was an apology within itself, but you couldn't even manage to whisper the words out because what were you going to apologize for when he brought you all of this?

Oh, god. He was really going to do this, wasn't he?

"Mi sol," He got down on his knees. He got down on his knees, you wanted to gasp but it's like Miguel sucked the words straight out of your body. "I'm so sorry. I really am."

The hundreds of apologies that you dished out over the span of a few weeks could even compare how to raw Miguel's voice sounded right now. It felt so real, so true, and he's barely even said anything yet. You felt terrible that all you could really do in the moment was stare, eyes widened and expression dumbfounded.

"I broke your heart, I hurt you. You poured your heart out to me, talked about your feelings, put your trust in me, and I broke it. You don't have to believe me when I say this, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I was scared, fucking terrified at the thought of you leaving. You were just so perfect, so amazing on the inside and out, and I didn't want to lose that, lose you."

Miguel had no idea what was even coming out of his mouth right now, no rhyme or reason behind his words, but he didn't care. He wanted to turn off his mind for the moment, letting his heart speak for itself like he should have done eons ago.

"But," Shakily, he reached his hand out for yours. You quickly shifted the box of confectionaries to your other hand, letting him hold onto you like you were his lifeline. Like you are his lifeline. "Those are just my reasons, take them as you will. Please trust me when I say that I want to be a better lover, a better person for you. It's all you deserved, and it's all I want to give to you."

He peppers a few small kisses to your knuckles before continuing to speak, "Lo siento, cariño. I know that this is all might sound so— so idiotic, I'm not good with words. I took you for granted and discarded you, and for my ignorance, you can be mad at me for the rest of my life, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing you didn't receive any closure. Even if you don't forgive me, I just wanted to let you know that I truly am sorry. All the logic, all the facts, I'll put them aside for you. You are all that matters to me now."

The whole world went silent as Miguel squeezed his eyes shut, not even his super-human senses could pick up any background noise. You hadn't pulled your hand back yet so he continued to brush his thumb over your knuckes and veins, but he couldn't tell if it's because you were shocked or you were stunned from utter joy.

He feels his heart drop when he hears you whimper.

His eyes fly open, and he looks back up at you. Shit, you were crying again. You were crying again, and it was his fault. Although who was to say that you weren't already crying before he got here?

The hand he wrapped around yours tightened gently in a soothing gesture, but it only seemed to make you sob harder which increased his guilt. Was his apology that bad?

"You are such a liar," Shit. Maybe he should have dignified that suggestion from Lyla telling him to write this down first. "You can't just— just say all of that shit and then tell me you're bad with words."

Wait, what? Clear confusion was well written on his face from the way that his brows knitted together.

Your hand broke free from his grasp to move up his arm, his shoulder, before smoothing over his hair, tucking back the stray strands that have fallen on his face so that you can lean forward, and kiss his forehead. Even if the kiss was so small, it felt so heavenly.

Your kisses moved down to the bridge of his nose, then finally landing on his lips, the lips that you've only dreamt of kissing and now the past month of desire felt like it was slowly being satiated. Your eyes flutter close as you can feel Miguel stand up, his strong arms move to wrap around your waist, nearly lifting you off of the floor as the kiss deepens.

His hands wandered the expanse of your back, like he was trying to revise every inch of you, but you didn't blame him. Both of you needed this so much and so badly too. Every rub and soft groan spoke a hundred utterances of I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

He barely pulls back once the kiss ends, faces barely inches away from each other. You find yourself entranced in the delightful shade of red that his eyes are, you'd catch yourself bashfully staring at them before, but now? You were more than shameless about it.

"Let me inside," whispered Miguel, voice low and husky, only laced with want and need. You knew exactly what he needed. "Want to make it all up to you, please."

You couldn't do anything about it as you obliged, grabbing Miguel by the collar of his jacket, and tugging him inside your apartment. Not even a few steps in, he grabs the flowers and donuts from your grasp, sets them down on the coffee table, before pushing your body against the couch. You yelped a little, but he silenced it by capturing your lips in yet another searing kiss that you couldn't help but lean into.

All the physical affection that Miguel had given you last time didn't disappoint at all, but this just felt entirely different. His actions were saying just as much as his words, leaning his frame into yours and hungrily pressing you into the cushions.

You thought that he'd at least give you a second to breathe but he stole that from you once more as his lips travelled down, kissing along the outline of your jaw then moving down to your neck. His favorite spot, he remembered every single mark and bruise that he left on you, and he was going to make anew.

The familiar feeling of sharpness as his fangs nibbled at the flesh, you didn't even have to look down to see the marks forming and blooming in a lovely shade of red as he continued to bite.

It's not like you were any better than him though. Needy and pathetic whines that slipped out of your mouth, just a continuous string of please Miguel, need you, missed you so much, I want you so bad. It all only continued to spur him on, he murmured sweet nothings both in Spanish and English against your neck as his advances moved its way down your figure.

His rough, calloused hands had a firm grip on you, daring to slip under the hem of your shirt— no, his shirt. "Can't believe I let go of all of this," He rasped out. "Eres tan bueno conmigo, you're being so good. Letting me get a taste of you," He fed into his impulses, lifting your shirt up to expose most of your torso besides your chest.

Your nails dug into his back, free hand tangling in his locks as he continued to press more wet kisses onto your belly, then to your abdomen. As to tease you, he instead went to your thighs. His claws scraped against the plumpness of it before he took a big bite.

You keened, the hand that you had nuzzled in his hair tightened.

"Miguel, please—"

"I know, I know. Just wait a little longer, hm?"

With every peck, every coo, every single breath that he took, it all spoke the same meaning to you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

request rules here, masterlist here

774 notes · View notes

soulessjourney · 8 months

Text

Quiet Confessions

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: As memories flood back, Tav opens up to Astarion beneath the moonlight, sharing the chains that bind her.

Warnings: Truama talk, mentions of abuse and violence, Angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, Tav being an emotional wreck in the softest way possible, talk of self hatred

A/N: I'm gradually working my way down the list of tasks I need to complete, which means I'm getting closer to the fantastic requests I've been receiving. If you have a request, feel free to share it! I thoroughly enjoy bringing your ideas to life!

Uncertain of how long you had been away from camp, you found yourself lying in the grass, gazing up at the moon. Time slipped away as you became lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts. The journey began when a torrent of memories, once erased during your escape from the ship's pod, flooded back, triggering a piercing headache. These recollections unveiled a darker version of yourself, one capable of committing unspeakable acts in pursuit of power. The realization of your own monstrous nature left you feeling contaminated, haunted by the deeds done beyond your control.

Choosing to forget the past, you had embarked on a new life, hoping to bury the shadow of the person you once were. Yearning for the demise of that former self and its memories, you couldn't help but wish they had perished the day you awoke on that ship.

The serenity of your contemplation was interrupted by the soft cadence of approaching footsteps. Astarion, with his distinctive gait, revealed his presence. Over the past few months, you had honed the ability to identify individuals by the sound of their steps—a skill cultivated, perhaps, by the constant threat of someone attempting to sneak up on you.

Sitting up, you turned to Astarion, offering a tender smile, reciprocated by his affectionate gaze. "Once again, I fail to surprise you, my love," he remarked, settling down beside you.

You shrugged, reclining in the grass, allowing your gaze to settle on the moon. A comfortable silence enveloped the space between you as Astarion leaned back on one hand, holding a book in the other. He never felt the need to inquire if something was amiss; he understood that you would approach him when ready, just as you had done for him. Neither of you pressured the other, always waiting until one felt inclined to share what weighed on your minds. This dynamic defined the perfection of your relationship—rooted in trust and patience, creating a beautiful harmony. Astarion sensed your internal struggle and refrained from prying, recognizing the feeling of being bound to something without an escape.

You debated with yourself on how to approach the topic. Keeping your gaze fixed on the sky, you decided to let your thoughts flow into words. "Sometimes when I look in the mirror, all I can see is a monster—a cold-blooded killer who gazes into people's eyes as life leaves them. I hate how good it makes me feel when it happens," you suddenly confessed, pulling Astarion's attention away from the book. He closed it, placing it beside him, and lays back beside you, offering his undivided attention. He was prepared to listen to every word, no matter how violent or disturbing, understanding that being present for you in this moment was the best form of support.

"As I would take off my armor and examine my arms, a part of me felt ashamed of what I saw. Scars where the skin was rubbed raw. Initially, I thought nothing of it, but now I can feel those shackles that kept me confined to that room. A room with a window too high for me to look out, allowing sunlight to reveal its true small and decaying nature. A room where the body of the person I murdered lay in the corner, reeking of death, and I was forced to stare at it for days until the stench drove me mad," you whispered, furrowing your eyebrows as your mind wandered back into that haunting memory.

Anger surged through Astarion upon your confession. You were a prisoner of your own mind, with no escape until recently, just like him. Astarion refrained from touching you as he observed you beginning to fall back into the past—a familiar experience, losing oneself in a memory and reliving it.

"The day I felt those chains break from the ground was the day I learned how to truly walk. It was the day I killed so many people, and every single one of them begged for their life. I remember laughing and smiling like an accomplished fool when I took their lives. It's so disgusting, knowing that I did what I did, how I killed the people that I did. With that came the pure torture my so-called father put me through. He would lock me in this room with his followers and see just how much pain I could take. He claimed it was to make me stronger, to be the perfect killer I was born to be. But each time they cut into me, I lost myself piece by piece," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion rolled onto his side to look at you, studying your features as you spoke. He noticed the subtle cues—how your jaw clenched when discussing anger-inducing events, how your eyes softened when recalling taking an innocent life, and how your nose would scrunch when lost in thought. Everything about you was beautiful, breathtaking even, which intensified his resentment for the pain you had endured.

As you spoke, Astarion began to grasp why you lingered sometimes, gazing at views or exploring houses and temples. These were sights stripped from most of your life, confined to the inside of a cell or a room, enduring unimaginable pain.

What you chose to share next shattered Astarion and revealed the depth of your strength. "But now that I have Wyll, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Halsin, and even you, I'm learning how to be strong for the first time ever. I'm learning how to confront the darkness and face my own reflection without resentment, knowing that I bear the face you love and cherish. I'm learning how to truly live for the first time, and it terrifies me," you confessed. Astarion felt his eyes soften, his hand moving to rest beside yours, his pinky gently brushing against the side of your hand in a small gesture of comfort.

Lost in your memories, you didn't even register the subtle caress of his finger on your hand. Your eyes had glazed over, ensnared in the labyrinth of your mind, silent tears tracing their path from the corners of your eyes. Your profound silence began to concern Astarion; it seemed as if you were paralyzed in that moment, with no discernible movement. He felt a sense of helplessness, unable to assist you in the way he desired, as he, too, often succumbed to the torturous memories inflicted by Cazador.

When a strangled sob shattered the silence between you, Astarion sat up and enveloped you in his arms. This was a method he knew could often bring comfort when you broke down. No words needed to be spoken as he held you tightly. You were someone who wore a mask around others, refusing to reveal your vulnerabilities. Yet, with him, you found solace and strength, as he did with you. Lae’zel often remarked on how you both carried the weight of the world, calling you two sides of the same coin.

Or when rejecting Gale, he commented on the irony of your love for Astarion, noting the striking similarity in your personalities. While said to hurt you, there was truth in his words. You and Astarion understood the shared pain and the deep connection between you, choosing to be there for one another and share love you both craved.

Drawing you closer, Astarion let your head rest in the crook of his neck, his cheek against the side of your head. He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he felt your arms wrap around his middle, bringing you back from the daze you were trapped in. You were here, in his arms, holding on as if afraid he would vanish if you let go. Leaning back slightly, he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumbs over your cheeks in a soothing manner. "There you are, my love. I was worried I lost you," he said, the concern and fear evident in his voice.

Shaking your head, you placed your hands over his, leaning into his touch. Although your response was silent, he understood. "Can we stay and watch the sunrise? I've never seen it before, and I want to experience this new thing with you," you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of rejection. You wanted to linger, to feel alive, if only for a moment, before returning to the mask you had carefully crafted.

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he nodded, pulling you closer and shifting so you both could sit in a more comfortable position. "Of course, my love. For you, I'd sit through a million sunrises if you asked me to," he said, prompting a small smile to grace your lips. This moment with the person you cherished was your sanctuary, he was your home.

141 notes · View notes

airas-story · 4 months

Text

Bitter Jealousy

Pepper hadn’t expected to feel jealous.

She had ended things with Tony. She was always the one to end things with Tony and had had a… certainty that if she was ever ready to try again, that he’d be there.

Something about Tony had simply seemed… inevitable.

This didn’t feel like inevitability.

Tony’s laugh could be heard, distinct in the hubbub of the gala where he was in conversation with a CEO on the list Pepper had given him to ‘make nice with’. Pepper watched as he smiled up at his date. Doctor Stephen Strange. Not his press smile, but his soft, genuine one that Pepper had always thought should be hoarded away so that the vultures couldn’t see it.

Tony had smiled at her like that. In a way that she thought he’d never smile at anyone else.

Pepper had treasured that smile.

Doctor Strange smiled back at Tony. Pepper didn’t know him well enough to know whether this was his press smile or not—if Doctor Strange even had one of those—but the way the skin around his eyes crinkled made her think it might be real.

Pepper looked away, focusing back on networking with the CEOs of several Big Pharma companies.

When she looked again, it was to find that Tony and Doctor Strange were on the dance floor. Tony’s arms were around Doctor Strange’s neck, Doctor Strange’s hands low on Tony’s back.

Tony and Doctor Strange were gathering looks, but neither man seemed to care. Tony was hardly unexpected in that, Tony never had cared. Doctor Strange… Pepper had looked into him, confident and cocky and invested in his appearance. Doctor Strange should care.

For one bitter moment, Pepper wished she’d never demanded Tony go to the hospital after his lab accident, minor as it’d been. Wished the hospital hadn’t tried to impress Tony with their very best. Wished that Doctor Strange hadn’t looked at Tony and seen past all of the bluster to the truth of who Tony was beneath it all.

But she had, the hospital had, Doctor Strange had. And now Tony was here with someone else.

Jealousy was a bitter thing. She was supposed to be better than that. She was supposed to be happy for Tony.

So why was it so hard?

A tap on her elbow drew her attention back to the world around her. She didn’t recognize the man who’d tapped, but she could guess, some CEO here to impress—though the firetruck red tie with darker red stripes was… an interesting choice at a black tie event. “I see you’re watching the dance floor,” he said smoothly. “Would you like to dance?”

It wasn’t the dance floor she’d been watching.

Still, she smiled, accepted.

The dance was uncomfortable the way so many of them were. Pepper escaped as soon and as graciously as she could, leaving talks of contracts and potential mergers—as though SI ever would—on the dance floor.

Tony and Doctor Strange were at the bar, now. As she watched, Doctor Strange stole the glass from Tony’s hand, throwing back the rest of the drink himself before sliding the glass away. Somehow she knew that that would be Tony’s last drink of the night. Tony looked more amused than offended.

She wasn’t surprised when Tony and Doctor Strange disappeared the moment it was acceptable—part of her was surprised Tony managed to last that long—and she wished she didn’t know what they were probably doing.

If it was just sex… Pepper could have handled that. But it wasn’t. She’d gone to the tower early one day, needing Tony to do something or other than she could no longer remember, and she’d found them sprawled out on the couch fast asleep, still dressed in their clothes from the day before, holograms projected in front of them where they’d been discussing something she hadn’t understood.

It would have been so much easier if it was just sex.

Pepper left the gala not long after, herself, even though there were people still on her list to talk to.

Just… not tonight.

Tonight she could let herself hurt. Tomorrow… tomorrow she’d be happy for Tony. Tomorrow she’d figure out how to make the jealousy go away.

Tonight… Tonight she let herself wish that Doctor Strange and Tony had never met.

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #pepper potts #I love Pepper #I do!!!#But it was an interesting premise for me to think about

104 notes · View notes

hotdaemondtargaryen · 1 month

Text

EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY NME MAGAZINE.

WHERE DID YOU WATCH THE 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' SEASON TWO FINALE?

“I watched it yesterday on my TV.”

“Just with a few friends.”

IN THE FINALE, THE WAR THAT'S BEEN BREWING DIDN'T HAPPEN – WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT FANS WILL HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER TWO YEARS FOR THE CONFLICT?

“The wait will be worth it!”

SOME FANS HAVE COMPLAINED IT WAS A SLOW SEASON – WHAT DID YOU THINK?

“I think there’s moments for everyone.”

“What I love about Aemond… it’s like he can’t sit still.”

“He has to be moving.”

“And he possesses such a kind of catalytic energy that whenever he’s on screen, you know something’s gonna happen.”

“So it’s nice.”

“And the Council Table, there’s so much conflict between these relationships that we all share around this table that I loved to dive into.”

AEMOND'S BECOME A FAN FAVOURITE...

“Yeah.”

“I’m not on social media, but the fan mail that I received is so well articulated, and it’s often badass to listen to the reaction.”

WHAT DID YOU THINK OF DAEMON'S PROPHETIC THRONES-LIKE VISION IN THE FINALE?

“I haven’t seen Game Of Thrones.”

“But I understood that the moments with the White Walkers and you had Daenerys with the three dragons… they’re callbacks, but they’re also glimpses into the future.”

“It’s quite genius to link the two shows in that regard, through magic.”

SO DID YOU DECIDE DELIBERATELY NOT TO WATCH GAME OF THRONES WHEN YOU WERE CAST? AND WILL YOU WATCH IT ONE DAY?

“Yeah, when this show finishes up, I’d love to get around to watching Game Of Thrones.”

“It was just always a choice that I made when I landed the role.”

“I didn’t want to watch it and have it consciously – or subconsciously – affect my choices for my character…”

“I really wanted to draw from other worlds and areas of pop culture and different sources of inspiration.”

HAVE YOU HAD MUCH CONTACT WITH GEORGE R.R. MARTIN HIMSELF?

“No, I haven’t, but he’s definitely a man’s brain I’d like to pick for sure.”

“I’d love to meet him and talk about all things Aemond.”

THIS WAS AN EIGHT-EPISODE SEASON. WOULD YOU, IN SOME RESPECTS, LIKED TO HAVE SEEN A COUPLE MORE EPISODES TO EXPAND THE STORYLINE?

“I just think the more House Of The Dragon the better, you know?”

“I just love exploring Aemond and I can’t wait to explore even more so in the next season.”

SO WHAT ARE YOU ANTICIPATING FOR HIM IN SEASON THREE?

“They’ve always said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men… but after episode seven with 'The Red Sowing,' that kind of put that belief into question.”

“The divide between the common folk and Dragonlords isn’t as big as what it was thought to be.”

“And so it kind of puts all Targaryens… we’re just like common folk.”

“And I think Aemond, he retaliates in such a way (that you see in episode eight) that’s quite desperate.”

“He literally begs his sister, Helaena, to join him on dragonback to take out Daemon.”

“Going into season three, there’s certainly a blockade that needs to be broken.”

DAEMON USES THE IMMORTAL PHRASE, “WINTER IS COMING” IN THE SEASON TWO FINALE. DO YOU FEEL LIKE SEASON THREE WILL BE AN MUCH DARKER?

“I think so.”

“They say that when a Targaryen is born, they get to toss a coin.”

“One side is greatness and the other side is madness.”

“And we’ve got a whole family of these guys.”

“So you could argue this is probably the craziest we’ve ever seen Westeros.”

“And next season, they’re going to be at each other’s throats.”

46 notes · View notes

bipolarman2022 · 28 days

Text

**Title: "The Mirror of Past Lives"**

**Chapter 1: The Inheritance**

Raul had never paid much attention to the old mirror he had inherited from his grandfather. It was a large, heavy, and somewhat intimidating object, with a carved wooden frame that depicted scenes of ancient battles and forgotten ceremonies. The mirror had remained in the attic for years, covered in dust and wrapped in a threadbare blanket. Until that night.

Moved by an inexplicable impulse, Raul decided to take it down and place it in his room. Something in him, perhaps curiosity about his family's past, or perhaps the need to feel some connection with his grandfather, made him carefully clean the glass until it shone under the dim light of the lamp.

**Chapter 2: The Reflection**

That night, as he prepared for sleep, Raul stopped in front of the mirror. He looked at his own image, the familiar face he saw every day, but which now seemed strangely distant. It was then that the air in the room seemed to change, becoming heavier, almost charged with electricity.

Suddenly, the reflection began to distort. It wasn't a sudden movement, but rather a smooth slide, as if an invisible curtain was being pulled aside to reveal something else. The face in the mirror began to transform: the skin became darker, the hair black and curly, and a well-trimmed beard appeared where there had been only shadow before. The Raul in the mirror was wearing a brown robe that fell to his feet, instead of the t-shirt and jeans he himself was wearing.

**Chapter 3: The Awakening**

Raul took a step back, his heart pounding. He didn't understand what he was seeing. The man in the mirror stared back at him, but there was something else in his eyes, something ancient and deep. It seemed that the eyes of the reflection were wells of wisdom, bearers of memories that stretched across centuries.

Without knowing why, Raul felt the need to touch the mirror. He reached out slowly, and when his fingers brushed the cold glass, a wave of sensations washed over him. Suddenly, he was no longer in his room; the ground beneath his feet was warm sand, and the air smelled of spices and the sea.

**Chapter 4: The Previous Life**

Raul found himself in a bustling market somewhere in the Middle East. The colors were vibrant, people came and went, and everything seemed so real that for a moment he forgot this wasn't his life. He looked down and saw the same brown robe he'd seen in the reflection. His mind was hazy, but something inside him felt like he had come home.

Days, weeks passed, and Raul lived like a different man, as if he had always belonged here. He was a respected merchant, a family man, and even though it all seemed like a dream, he never felt more awake. Over time, he came to understand that the mirror was no ordinary object; It was a portal to his past lives, to identities he had lived in other times and places.

**Chapter 5: The Decision**

One day, while looking into another mirror, in a room that was already familiar to him, Raul felt a jolt. The image began to fade, and he knew that he was about to be returned to his time, to his true life. But now he understood the purpose of the mirror: it did not only show the past, but it offered him the possibility of learning from it, of integrating those experiences into his present life.

When he finally woke up in his room, the mirror was in front of him, but the reflection showed only his own face, dressed in his modern clothes. Raul smiled nostalgically. He now knew that, even though he lived in the present, he would always carry with him the traces of his past lives. And when he wanted to remember, he would only have to look into that mirror and let himself go.

**Epilogue**

Raul never saw the man in the brown robe again, but sometimes, as he passed by the mirror, he could feel his presence, like a whisper in the wind. The mirror had changed his life, had expanded his consciousness, and now Raul lived each day with the certainty that he was more than just a man of his time; he was an amalgam of stories, experiences, and lives that continued to resonate within him.

#arabophile #arabophilia #arabization

34 notes · View notes

afreakingdork · 6 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 62

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

The previous chapter art was removed 4/30/2024, but as of 9/2/2024, Mikey thinks it's pretty cool that we got a new one by @unknownfanartist

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: cast removal, crutches, muscle weakness, general injury recovery

Getting your cast off should have made you happy.

It should have come with a sense of relief. The thing had yellowed with age and stunk to high heaven, but you were numb as the many little saws buzzed around you. You only watched listlessly as bits of fiberglass shattered and nicked the doctor’s mask. You should have some anxiety, you thought. You should be worried that their hand might not be as steady as you’d hoped and they might dip and slice your skin.

You felt nothing.

You only stared on as you were helped out and you saw your legs for the first time.

Pruned from trapped moisture, somehow flaking, and a sickly color, they did not look like your own.

Words pelted you next and you heard them vaguely.

There was a new schedule.

New aftercare.

More healing.

You would never be done healing.

Your body would always be different.

These legs were not your own.

You couldn’t stand without an aid.

Donnie was everything.

After the incident with Leo, he went above and beyond where he’d already stepped up. He cut the others out of the support system. They were still there, the backup they needed to be for him, but Donnie decided in seeing your tears that he was the only one made to aid you. He moved around attentively, pampering you and getting everything you needed. He shifted his focus away from himself and helped however he could with your physical therapy.

You hadn’t told him what happened to Leo.

A piece of you had been extinguished in the exchange, not that you completely understood why.

Something was fundamentally wrong with the picture and the only element out of place was you.

Leo was right, you’d come in and changed something about their dynamic. You had tentatively seen it as good, but in practice you weren’t as sure anymore. You’d been reassured from countless sources, but it all seemed for not after being told point blank that you had upset the status quo and nothing could be put back. You had two happy years with the man you loved, but there was irreparable damage.

It manifested in your mate in a very real way.

He could no longer act.

The feelings he once pushed away as unnecessary were now a threat to him and everyone around.

You’d robbed him of his joy.

The one he’d found after such an agonizing journey.

You hated it.

You hated every moment he came near.

You hated every little look he gave you, checking in to see if it had been the right one.

You hated how every time, he’d smother even that reaction.

He was a shell.

He was unsure.

You were the same.

Then, there was Leo.

After the incident, he had taken a five day sabbatical where on rotation you learned from both Raph and Mikey that he only left the gym when it wasn’t open. He worked himself out until his body gave out and the tiny owner had called Raph away on day three to pick up the passed out husk of his brother. They had their own med bay you learned. Leo slept the last two days and drained multiple IV bags.

When he returned, he was a shadow of his former self.

There were no words left to barb and he parted no attention. Lucinda even greeted him and he only looked away. She’d wanted to ask, you saw it in her eyes, but you held the same empty look.

She’d said nothing and for the last week and a half in your cast, the apartment was trapped in haunting silence.

“It’ll be a wheelchair ride to the car.” A nurse told you.

You only nodded.

Donnie was beside you and you leaned against him.

Despite everything, he was still a comfort.

His hand settled on your shoulder and eventually your chariot approached.

Both in the form of Donnie’s car and a mobilized chair, you stared at your legs all the way.

They moved around you as you were helped into the car.

They sat uselessly in front of you.

You didn’t dare touch them in the ride over.

Crutches took your attention and you headed for the elevator.

You could hear Donnie thinking about getting another apartment.

Stairs got in the way.

Raph was somewhere.

You vaguely saw him already on your floor when you exited the metal box.

A coordinated clinking took you to your door.

You entered and made it far enough to the partition between the living and bedroom before you stopped.

Donnie and Raph spoke something paltry to each other.

You needed to wash up.

You still stank.

You assumed that’s why the other two had kept their distance.

Raph exceeded the elevator weight limit.

You knew that.

You didn’t care about facts.

Donnie appeared in what you figured was a creep.

You only passed him a glance before finally heading towards the bathroom.

He wandered after.

Had you snapped at him?

You could barely recall.

You thought you should have.

He was around too much, wasn’t he?

He was always there.

He was your blight like the other turtles were to him.

A hovering avatar of your failings.

You felt a few tears loose down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that.

You were free of your cast.

You should have been happy.

Not bitter.

You quaked to a halt just in the bathroom’s entrance.

Donnie was behind you.

“Stay with me…?” You begged him through a sob.

He said nothing and only appeared nodding in your vision.

A bath.

You were supposed to take a bath.

You needed to ease into these legs.

Muscle loss.

Breakdown.

Physical therapy.

Endless.

A spray turned on and you collapsed onto the seat of the toilet, letting your crutches go. Donnie caught them and shut the door properly before kneeling down in front of you. Words would need to be spared now, you thought, but you could only stare at him with what you could feel were soulless eyes.

He took them in with a glance that might have broken into sadness if this were any other world. In your current reality, his own shifted to a similar empty state as that was what was required. As the water warmed up, you were stripped. Not speaking made it more difficult, but you relied on your memory of how to move together.

The movement of Donnie’s beak said a lot.

Now in an especially enclosed space he was trapped with your wretched scent. You smelled it too, but you’d been locked into it for so long it lingered like the rot of your soul. The sink and wash cloths had only ever done so much.

You wanted to be boiled.

You wanted to scrub until there was nothing left.

You’d swirl and go straight down the drain and out of sight.

Your ass hit the cold porcelain and for the first time in over two months you felt something other than musty gauze there. It knocked you out of your stupor where Donnie was stripping without pretense. You didn’t watch him and instead reached through the curtain to touch the stream. It was sufficiently hot and you made a grab for the sink to pull yourself up. Donnie caught your wrist before you could and you sent the barest form of ire up at him.

He took it with the faintest crack of affection in his gaze.

It was something and your heart clenched.

How long had it been since he let something leak?

Not long, you knew.

A week or so at most.

You’d been downplaying them.

Each time he tried a little harder you’d lumped it into an anomaly pile.

You were in a constant state of twisting what you saw to your own view.

You were the numb one and Donnie was curtailing himself to you.

There was more there, in the way Donnie led you to the curtain. He had your weight, but at the same time you had full control. He was there if you fell, but otherwise you were the dancer that instructed. He, your studious partner, waited as you pulled back the shower curtain and he hopped you up the little step. The warm water splashed your toes and you yearned to bury into the spray. A stepwise process still necessary, you waited for Donnie to follow behind and close the curtain before you moved.

Showers washed away so much.

You felt not just the grime slipping away, but the sludge attached to your soul. It schlepped off in layers and you watched it metaphorically spin out and disappear down the hole that you thought you might too. Looking now, it was too small and nowhere near enough to encapsulate you. You felt your partner’s grip switch.

With one hand firm on your waist, the other ghosted over your arm. A move he’d done dozens of times, it was both your ways of recuperating with your partner. He drew strength from you in swipes and soon the lopsided display rotated you like a boat with one oar. Turned to face him with the spray at your back, you thought this was a sign. You started with flat hands over his wet plastron. A smooth glide, you withheld your features as you drifted up to his shoulders. You found him there, watching you with metered affection that you spied as more cracks. Wary of them, you had enough wherewithal to send him a worried look which he took in kind as a palm cascaded down to your hip.

His veneer split. Stroking along his shoulder blades, you grabbed the bulb of his shoulder just in time for a gooey expression to form on his face. Tinged with longing, it swirled as he opened up and you saw a gleam in his pupil. All looks reserved for his precious mate, you leaned into him though you couldn’t safely arch your back. It meant mostly a tip of your body without joints, but it still drew you closer to him.

“I love you.” He spoke without holding back.

Your entire being squeezed.

“I love you so much.” He cast the spell anew and brushed dripping water from your chin.

“Donnie…” You murmured and wanted to wrap him up.

You had the leverage, but there were so many threats. One slip would spell more injuries, but you wanted to launch yourself at him. You wanted to drape around him and tell him you alone could keep his ninpo from spawning. A theory already proven to be ineffective, you didn’t care. You would try harder. You had further mobility now and your mate needed you. You decided you could find a way; you could always find a way.

“Y/N.” He nosed over your shoulder as he reached behind you.

Washing, you were supposed to be washing up, but you could only choke on a sob. “I missed you so much.”

When he reappeared as a gelatinized version of himself, you could still see the upturned corners of his lips. “Tell me?”

You heard a cap pop and could mentally see him applying soap to a loofa in a silky drove. “Tell you what?”

“How much…?” He stalled with a press of suds to your shoulder and a wet look.

You knew his suffering was equal to yours, only different.

In that moment, in its current presentation, it seemed new.

He looked youthful and lonely.

He looked as though he’d been punished unjustly.

He was sat in a corner for a crime he didn’t commit.

He needed care.

He needed reassurance.

You drifted up his neck and to his jaw. “I miss you constantly. I’ve been miserable. You’re right there, but you’re not. I get pieces of you and that’s never going to be enough. Not when I’ve had the whole thing…”

“Whole thing…” He scolded and his lips warbled as he tried to divert attention into scrubbing your back. “Watching you deepen into your withdrawal has been…”

You shuffled a little closer to him and he slid his steadying hand more securely around you.

“It’s torture.” He rotated you out of the spray so he could reach more of you. “You need so much more of me than I can offer. I attend to all your physicalities, but the emotional aspect…!” He choked and shifted away to wash your arms. “To know that I no longer have the facilities to be a proper partner…”

“You’re wrong.” You pulled his chin so he was forced to look at you. “You’ve done so much. Do you know how many people can’t step up when their significant other gets sick? Truly sick, truly injured!”

He scoffed. “I would attend to you for multiple lifetimes.”

You helped move his hand so he could wash your chest. “Not even want, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Donnie slowed as if that was a revelation and looked at you with tempered hope.

“Silly.” You moved to wipe his eyes and he delicately closed his lids so you could brush over them. “You know that.”

“Time and time again my warning that grievous harm will come to you as long as you stay by my side comes to fruition, you should not-”

You pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

He searched you in an attempt to break your resolve.

You brushed your digit side by side until he pressed a slight kiss into it. “Do you think what happened is actually your fault?”

You moved your finger away and he spoke immediately. “No.”

“Not that you allowed us to get drugged and taken?” You squeezed the words for what they were worth to translate your own feelings on the matter.

“I had every precaution in place, but there are gaps that cannot be accounted for-”

“Do you blame yourself for that?”

His pupils slowed and he dove into yours to scrounge up every bit of your meaning. “No…”

“Do you know how much growth that is?” You couldn’t help but smile.

He sneered lightly, but there was an obvious raise to his spirits.

You hugged into him and felt the little bubbles of soap pop between you.

He stood still as if to immortalize your affection before he moved to return it. “Do you hear yourself? You are celebrating that I am not performing self-flagellation over nearly losing you.”

“You see it too though, don’t you?” You turned your head and rested it against his plastron.

He squeezed you tighter instead of responding.

“I’m still here.”

“Don’t go.” He forced out.

“I’m right here.” You pulled away to look at him.

He came right down and his arm dipped, holding you upright around your thighs. “Y/N, please, there cannot be a repeat of this.”

“There won’t.”

“We’ll never go to the Hidden City again.”

“We won’t.”

“You’ll stay.”

“Donnie.”

“Stay with me.” You saw obvious tears prick the corner of his eyes. “Please, please, please… Don’t… Don’t ever…!”

“I won’t go.” It took a little too much movement, but you finally slotted your arms around his head. “You’re stuck with me.”

He tried to squeeze in another ‘please,’ but he interrupted himself as he kissed you.

You returned it, but felt the distinct lack of heat.

It was a reassurance and you poured all of yourself into it.

He broke it out of a smile that burst forth between you.

“L-let’s…”

You pecked across him as an encouragement.

“Get you cleaned up.” He decided and swallowed thickly.

You moved away as much as his hold allowed and he was methodically washing you. Running between foam and rinses, you had enough strength to scrub his plastron, but anything further that required a bend proved to be too difficult. He cared little and openly ate up the attention. You leaned into it, feeling slight guilt over denying him more, but you reminded yourself that this was unavoidable on both your parts. Donnie had to keep his emotions in check and you had to recover which was annoyingly no alive person’s fault.

Finishing your proper shower under Donnie’s steady grip, you then languished in letting the spray run directly over your face when you felt your boyfriend nose your mating mark playfully. You turned slightly, moving out of the shower’s line and he followed with pressed kisses there.

“Donnie…?” As far as you knew, this was part of the unspoken territory that couldn’t be crossed.

“Won’t break skin. No more injuries of any kind.” He let the water rinse the spot before mouthing over. “Still… Want to renew so badly.”

“Please…” You folded an arm around you to reach him.

He slid his fingers into yours with his free hand and the other supporting you shifted so he could give one of your butt cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Donnie!”

“Part of you kept from me.” He gave a testy little growl.

You leaned away in a turn to kiss him.

He ignored you and instead put on a show of opening up his mouth. His teeth gleamed a ferocious row and he angled them with a panting desire to sink them into your shoulder.

“Please…” You repeated much quieter.

“You’re mine.” A heat lingered against him and he lost sharp will as his maw came down.

His sharpened canines pricked the most, but he bit without breaking skin. “All yours.”

His hold shifted to wrap around your belly and he metered different pressures.

While there was a certain sexual edge to the move, it spoke more of a hunger.

Of things he’d been denied.

Things he couldn’t have.

All that he wanted.

He wrapped it in a nibble as his starvation would go on.

He could only have a taste and he released with a few little licks over the reddened skin.

“I love you.” You told him.

“I love you.” He nuzzled into the side of your head and reached past you to shut the water off.

Before the cold could set in, you were hoisted up just like you were and protested with little bubbles of laughter as he swung you up and out of the tub. Landing on a soft mat, he pulled down a towel to wrap you up in and you were soon sat on the toilet again. Both to be dried and while he toweled himself off, he eventually came around with several bottles.

From getting your cast off you were told to moisturize heavily and Donnie started with a cream for that. Knelt in front of your legs like your knight, you saw he took pleasure in rubbing the lotion into your skin. Taking particular care both for its purpose and because your legs had been locked away for so long, your stems soon took on a shine both from the cream and from the worked up blood flow.

You twisted your toes through the shaking weakness from having been upright for so long, but for the first time since the cast removal, your lower body felt like your own.

Donnie procured another bottle, a new formulation of his muscle cream and added that on next. He’d concocted a slew of new products with computer screens alone and sent them off to be formulated and tested. All done with rush orders, you were soon inundated with all sorts of medicinal ointments. From salves to heal scars to potent oils that stimulated cell regeneration, you noticed there was some labeling that had Old Lady Nagami’s flare, but you didn’t bring attention to it.

You had mostly applied them yourself, but now you wished you’d deferred to Donnie. This could have been stolen moments of intimacy you both craved all along and you berated yourself for not allowing him that much. You only felt you’d taken enough so any little thing you could do yourself felt like a load off of him. He’d also stepped aside whenever possible to not subvert your independence. You adored him and as he finished up with a smile saying he had a job well done, he turned that up to you and all of that must have been plastered on your face.

From his knees he rose up to kiss you reassurances.

You lingered in them before mumbling against his lips. “Let me.”

“What? Anything.” He nosed you slightly.

You giggled at how quickly he complied. “You must be sore too.”

He came away with a furrowed brow ridge.

“Switch with me in your lap.”

He gave the idea a once over before a quick nod and lifted you right up. He then dutifully switched, sitting on the toilet lid and dropping you onto his thighs where he then fetched his cream from a drawer. He passed it over and you scooped a good handful out before pulling one of his arms close to work it into his aged scars.

Within a few strokes he immediately wilted around you like a drapery. You staved off laughing by chewing your lip and the faintest little churr cropped up that startled both of you.

Having both shot away, you shared a surprise stare before you were both tentatively slow moving back into place for fear you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. Taking much longer than the first as awareness was difficult to offset, the tiny vibration eventually picked up as you trended down to his forearms. Music to your ears, you languished in it and rubbed his wrist even though the cream was soaked into his muscles.

He was the one who grew tired of the imbalance and eventually broke to turn you around to reach his other arm. You cuddled close to him, repeating the process and eventually the churr he met you with was one you considered his norm. Overjoyed with his comfort, you felt lulled and your rub lost cohesion as he slid down to his hands.

“Sleep…” He managed around the rumble.

“You too?” You teased lightly.

“Who’s on duty…?”

You had to think about it. “Raph.”

“Yes.” It almost sounded like a cheer and he nuzzled into your neck.

“Why’s it okay with him?” Though you knew Raph distanced himself as best he could, he and Donnie interacted so little that you weren’t sure what their dynamic was like, even with all the weeks of him being around.

“He hesitates.” Donnie reluctantly lifted his head. “Avoids. If I had to take my pick…”

You nodded, not wanting to push the subject when you were both so comfortable.

Lifted back on jittery legs, your towel was adjusted and the door opened with a shift in humidity. Chilled by it, Donnie quickly wiped your crutches down and passed them off before you thunked over to get some pajamas in a perilous game of not letting your covers fall in the process.

“Raphael.” Donnie peered around the partition.

“I didn’t hear nothing!” Raph called from somewhere distant.

Grabbing comfy clothes, you thought you could place him squished right by the door. Of the three, he was the one that seemed the most out of place in your apartment. He tried to minimize himself as best he could and you often had to tell him to sit on the couch even though he long should have known it was available to him.

“Guilt over nothing.” Donnie let a certain disdain fill his voice. “Y/N is going to nap.”

There was a beat of silence as Raph parsed the meaning there. “Understood.”

“And sit down.” Donnie gave an annoyed command and then followed after where you waved a pair of sweats for him.

He took them with a kiss to your cheek and you could tell he was just fatigued enough to not put on his emotional block.

You sat on the bed to get dressed and once you were clad you fell back into the covers letting the many balms on your body swallow you up until Donnie’s voice broke through. “Get under.”

“Throw a blanket on top of me.” You groaned, not wanting to move.

He clicked his tongue, scolding, at you before hoisting you up to pull you under the blankets with him.

You wiggled as much as you could on weary hips to get close.

He tucked you both in and you watched each other until lids grew heavy enough to fall.

You weren’t totally sure, but it seemed like Donnie was trying to meditate. It was never particularly obvious, but he would clearly drift when his attention wasn’t on you. Different from his usual trains of thought, it left his features empty in a way that you thought illustrated his thoughts. When he was on the path of mental conquest, that fortitude showed up with a furrowed brow and narrowed gaze. Now, however, you often found him with loose features and a slightly unfocused gaze.

You’d meant to ask, but the first time you roused him from the state, he’d surfaced with a knife-sharp gaze that said it was not to be discussed in company.

Such company was thankfully Mikey at the time who hadn’t even noticed anything was off.

You imagined that was probably why Donnie chanced it. You were left to mull things over which meant you ran various simulations the best you could. It helped you place a few things in perspective since it wasn’t something up for debate. The first of which regarded the level of vulnerability. Donnie never chanced the lowered guard that came with meditating around Leo. He also rarely breached his emotional moat which made you think this had to do with his ninpo. All of which made sense when you thought of Raph.

The eldest had told you point blank that he honed in on ninpo frequencies by meditating and you had filled Donnie in on everything that had happened on your last unwilling trip to the lair. You might have been surprised your genius hadn’t thought of it sooner, but you imagined it had a lot to do with you. Meditation took time, as far as you understood, and a certain level of calm that you bet Donnie wasn’t capable of considering the circumstances you were both currently stuck with.

From your healing to the brothers constant vigil, Donnie had to hold tight to his sanity by any means. Now that the entire set of turtles had settled into this new sort of treaty they were forced into and you were out of your cast and nearing the end of your obvious healing, that meant Donnie could practice more sensitive exercises to get his ninpo under control. He didn’t chance it often, but you had seen him trying to drift in every way except for folding his legs up and assuming a Siddhasana.

The logistics were something you were ruminating when Leo stood up from where he was pretending not to monitor your sitting leg exercises.

The tenuous relationship between the two of you had stretched on, but in the last few weeks you could at least manage being in the same room together.

Donnie hovered closer regardless and it pained you that you still hadn’t been able to tell your boyfriend what had transpired.

Glancing first at Leo and then at a clock, it was two minutes until the hour which meant it was time for a change over. Leo passed Donnie a single nod to translate this before stepping away to make space for a portal behind the couch. The schedule dictated Mikey was next, so Leo sliced through and you expected the orange brother to pop out with his usual buoyant energy.

Instead Leo walked out only for Mikey to emerge with an angry figure that stomped all the way around to you.

With his hands folded on his hips, he held a height over you and a face that begged you to ask.

“You… okay?” You set your weight down and tried not to laugh at how silly he was being.

“No!” Mikey took his opening and was only careful in dropping down into the couch beside you so as not to jostle you. “I’m mad!”

“I can see that.” Your smile was only dimmed by a minor wince as you pulled your legs up onto the couch so you could turn to him. “Want to rant?”

“Finally! Yes!” Mikey threw his limbs out before he turned toward you to tuck into the details. “So I’m trying to do my daily meditation, right?”

You blinked to attention.

That was almost too apropos.

It was clear it struck your partner similarly as Donnie was still nearby and had lifted his head where he was once casually looking through something on his phone.

“What?” Mikey noticed your distraction with a crouch of his brow ridge. “Don’t tell me I don’t look like I meditate because that stereotype’s been beaten to death!”

“No, no… I was…” You waffled and tried not to look around the room. “Meditation helps… healing. You caught me off guard because I was thinking about it, but wasn’t sure if that was real or not.”

All of Mikey’s suspicions evaporated. “Oh-me-gosh! Yes! I’m not going to lie to you, there’s a bunch of misconceptions and finding actual thought out studies is both impossible and annoying, but there is good evidence for it, I swear!”

“Thought out… studies…?” You mouthed, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“Yes! You can prove anything with a survey as long as you control who you ask! I immediately dump a study if I can’t find out-” He held up both hands ready to count. “-who ran it, what’s the goal, the poll, how many people were involved, and a breakdown of the demographics!”

You pressed your lip to a thin line and did everything in your power not to look at Donnie.

“Trust me, it’s a whole thing.” Mikey dropped his hands and shook his head.

“I guess… I didn’t realize you’d be so thorough.” You admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, well…” Mikey shrugged. “I’m on my own healing journey. You’re on yours and I’ve been long trying to stop pushing my beliefs on others if I can help it, but I am here if you have any questions.”

“Yeah… Maybe, but you were mad about something, weren’t you?”

“Yes!” Mikey threw his head up as if he could spout fire. “No matter what I did there was something! First, there was a gnat that kept trying to go up my nose, then Raph had this fuzzy thing stuck to his shell, but he was being such a pain about holding still because it tickled, then Dad thought, I don’t know, freaking 3pm smoothies during the same time I always meditate is a thing now!”

You watched Mikey’s rant fondly.

“Like that’s when his show is! He hasn’t drinken a smoothie in months and I’m supposed to believe that’s not a personal attack!?” Mikey looked at you as if you could sympathize.

Your life had been pretty planned out as of late and you didn’t.

“Doesn’t matter.” Mikey sighed deeply. “I never got to and now we’re here. What are you doing there?”

“Strengthening the legs.” You glanced down to the weights on the ground.

“I know a version of those bad boys all too well. They’re so small.” He nodded with a weight of knowledge.

“Yeah…” There were so many things you hadn’t been able to discuss and it seemed silly you’d never tried. “Leo said you did physical therapy?”

“Still do.” Mikey stretched out his arms for you to see. “Though they call it occupational therapy after a certain point. Don’t know the difference, but it feels pretty much the same.”

He did nothing to cover the golden cracks that split his skin and you chanced following a fissure with a finger.

Along the line there was no texture to it, almost as if the glow was an illusion.

“It’s mystic scarring.” Mikey explained.

“Ah…” He’d offered so you thought you shouldn’t feel bad, but part of you wanted to apologize.

“Got it saving Leo.” He thought for a moment. “Not Donatello related.” He looked over his shoulder at Donnie. “No offense.”

Donnie barely bobbed with a shrug. “I’ll take only my appropriate credit.”

Mikey rolled his eyes back to you. “Almost got ripped to stardust, but Raph helped stabilize me. He’s got some scars too, but he never shows ‘em. I think he thinks I’ll think…” He had to stop and go over what he’d said and punctuated counting with wags of his fingers. “He doesn’t want me to feel guilty!”

You nodded lightly.

“Everyone lived.” Mikey nodded. “That’s what was important. Then it was all healing, kinda like you, but it’s always a thing which is its own thing and then the other injuries…” This time Mikey pointedly looked at Donnie. “Full offense.”

Donnie gave a malicious sweeping bow with an arm.

Mikey sneered his cut lip before returning to you. “So my healing’s always ongoing.”

You tapped your leg.

“Ask.” He urged you with a knowing cock of his brow ridge.

“What?” You hadn’t thought of anything in particular.

“You were on the receiving end. Someone-!” Mikey didn’t look this time, but it was obvious he was again directing his attention toward Donnie. “-is in a less hateful mood so I think we’re safe to touch on more sensitive stuff: don’t you want to ask about the healing spell?”

You watched him before the nebulous thoughts converged for you. “Why… haven’t you healed yourself?”

Mikey gave a single sharp nod that said that was what he was looking for before he sank back into the couch. “I’m not schooled like Lee. He’s got human medical training where mine is mystic, but let’s say that was schooling and I got heavy into self teaching after having my face split open.”

You saw Donnie move slightly out of the corner of your eye, but this time Mikey let him be.

“It’s called Anosmia: the whole no taste, no smell thing. The attack severed not only my brain nerves attached to the old nose bulb, but also different nerves in my brain for other stuff. I’m not big on getting into it because it’s all kind of boring.” He flapped a dismissive hand. “Leo mentioned he explained the healing I did to you?”

You gave a single nod, not wanting to interrupt.

Mikey passed you an appreciative smile for it. “The smaller the parts, the harder they are to connect and you can imagine how small neurons are. That meant trying to reconnect the brain bits was not only the toughest, but also had the highest chance of something going wrong. You miss a connection or hook up the wrong parts? You might not be able to wiggle your toes ever again or forget you even had them to begin with!” He grew quiet and narrowed his gaze. “Thing is, I’d already been there, done that with the whole life changing injury so when I had to do it a second time around…”

You waited.

“I knew more.” Mikey tipped with an anticlimactic lean to his body. “I knew there was a lot that medicine or mysticism couldn’t obviously do and I’d already gone down the rabbit hole of self improvement. If it exists, I’ve tried it. If it can help, you can bet I’m into it. I’ve got opinions on everything!”

You always admired how steadfast Mikey was, even if it came as a detriment to him and those around.

Mikey leaned in even though you knew it wouldn’t offset Donnie’s hearing. “Wanna know my goal?”

“Of course.”

“I think I can fix it.” He bobbed his brow ridge before tossing himself back into the couch.

“Fix…?”

“Regain my sense of smell and taste.” Mikey gestured lazily to his face.

“Is that… possible?”

Mikey smiled out to the living room. “Weirder things have happened and you can train neurons. Everyone else in my family has written it off, but I don’t know… I’ll keep trying. I’ll take the health nut whacko label and own it and one day I’ll be able to smell freshly baked cookies again.”

He was so staunch you believed he could do it and shared that with a smile.

Mikey returned it. “Wanna meditate? It’s pretty quiet here. You can see how it makes you feel and I can give you tips if you wanna keep going.”

That was almost too easy.

For a moment, you felt like Mikey did know about Donnie.

He’d noticed and all this was a farce.

Except, Mikey was still looking at you with nothing but patient eyes.

You also felt as though those eyes held a nefarious purpose.

“Yeah…” He spoke a little too knowingly.

You bristled ever so slightly.

“It’s boring so I get if not. I kinda just wanted to get my dang session in though!” He chuckled with obvious guilt. “Plus it’ll help me with being bugged out and all.”

He had the terrible power of disarming those around him too quickly. “You seem alright now.”

“I’m chill, but that doesn’t mean I’m cool, you know?”

You stared for a moment. “I really don’t.”

“Huh…” His pupils darted as he thought back over what he said. “Yeah, I have no idea what I meant.”

You shook your head.

Between the similarities to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to this evil edge every single turtle man had, your perception of all of them was always warped and compared to Donnie.

“Fuck it.” You came away needing very much to stop judging this lot and treat them like the new individuals they really were to you. “Let’s meditate.”

“Yeah!” Mikey held out a high five that you took.

You wiggled in preparation of sitting cross legged.

“No, no, no.” Mikey laughed and held out a hand to stop you. “None of that… Or I mean, unless you want to.”

“I don’t think I can…” You admitted.

“Right, beginner…” He obviously put himself into a new mindset as if swapping clothes. “Okay, here’s the deal: forget everything you know about meditation. There’s no talking; I’m not into guided meditation because the voices get so annoying when I’m trying to chill. There’s no real pose to get into it; just vibe however you want. It’s boring; it’s so freaking boring. When I started, way, way back when dad taught us as kids, I felt like I would explode. Meditation and ADHD are a nightmare combo, but I’ve learned to make it work, but what works for me isn’t necessarily going to work for you, make sense?”

You took a moment to sift through everything he’d said. “Not… really…?”

“Yeah…” Mikey had a look that said he agreed.

You gave him a more abysmal stare.

“Never was good at explaining!!” Mikey tittered before he thought hard. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: use this first session to just… relax.”

You watched as he looked at you with mirth.

“Your biggest goal is to not fall asleep at first, but basically don’t punish yourself. This is all about calming down and getting in touch with your body. For me, my mind always wanders so I have to focus. I do a whole thing where I check in with myself. I start with the top of my head and “feel” down each part of my body slowly to help keep myself focused. You might think of things you need to do or… anything, and that’s fine, but it can stress some people out. You mostly just want to be… okay with being with yourself. The calm comes with that.”

Again taking a moment to think, this time you were slow to nod your head. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He perked up a bit.

“How do you sit?”

“Up!” Mikey shifted until his posture was straight and he relaxed. “I also do eyes closed, but some people start eyes open and then drift close.”

“There’s no wrong way I’m hearing.” You jeered lightly, getting into a similar position as him.

He started to close his eyes, but craned one open to watch you. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You giggled.

“I’ll count us down and then just… float.”

You settled and took a deep breath before a thought caught you. “Do you ever…float away? For real?”

“Yes.” In his profile you saw his grin split his face. “I’ve come to many times having left the ground.”

“ Sounds like enlightenment.” You pretended to be in awe.

A laugh caught him and he had to sigh back into position. “Not a chance. I also sometimes wake up from just sleeping flying which is such a pain.”

You wanted to ask more about that, but you resigned yourself to the exercise.

“Alright.” Mikey’s voice took on a calm. “There’s no time limit so just whenever you’re feeling over it, we can stop. I think like ten to fifteen is good, but hey, do you.” He inhaled long and slow. “Return to yourself.”

You unconsciously breathed in time.

“And be.” He exhaled slowly and you followed suit.

For a moment, you waited for something to happen even though you knew nothing would.

Then something about having to sit in silence struck you. You wondered if there was space for music or if the guided meditation was something you’d prefer. Currently, you felt like you were in a sort of limbo and wished he had started a timer.

Then you thought about what Mikey did.

Starting from the top of your head, you focused all your energy there and something about it reminded you of Donnie’s battle shell. Finding purpose in that idea, you slid down your head, shifting through your brows and eyes and thought of the shell’s arms gently tapping each zone. The metallic arms whirled in your ears as a memory and you let them drift along your lobes and through to your neck. There the pair split apart and cascaded down each shoulder.

One gave a little extra squeeze to where the tissue had healed on your left side. It was slightly numb to the touch, but always felt dense when you tried to lift the limb. Now, instead, the arms locked around your arms and gently rolled their grip down. Testing your flesh in little squeezes, it got to your fingertips and switched to your legs.

Those appendages were ones that you had been in a steady process of getting back under your control. It translated to your imaginary mech caressing you gently in a way that reminded you of Donnie’s massages. You were on a nightly rotation of receiving them and if you could manage, you returned the favor. It was exactly the little buoyancy you had thought the two of you needed and could easily be done in the privacy of the bathroom with only the faintest judgment from whatever turtle on duty.

Donnie.

Reaching your toes, you realized you’d forgotten about him.

Having momentarily gotten lost in your imagination, you cracked your eyes to find your vision blurry.

Something like coming out of sleep, you felt subdued and lingered in focus returning.

It came like a gentle current and with it you remembered that part of you had meant to use this time to siphon information so Donnie could get help in his meditation. If that were what he was doing, you also realized that he could just listen along meaning you had already done your part. Blinking off the last vestiges of peace, you turned your head slowly to first glimpse Mikey’s calm face. The picture of zen, you no longer saw the flecks of irritation that were now obviously gone from the man’s expression. Happy he’d gotten his, you looked past him and felt awe wash over you as you saw Donnie over by his computer.

Standing, but just seated on the edge of his computer desk, Donnie’s eyes were closed. His posture was closed off, but there was an air to him that was accentuated by the sleepy monitor glow behind him. With his arms folded in a loose hold, the tip of his body said one of his legs was kicked over the other which made him reclined. There were then his features, a similar slack to how you’d been catching them except there was a honed edge to it. Nothing that wrinkled the muscles in his face, you instead watched his pupils dart under his closed lids as if he was watching something get typed out. Staring in order to catch the exact movement, you found it wasn’t a side to side, but instead an indistinct roll as if many parts were being put in place.

Building.

You weren’t sure why, but you had the distinct thought that he was building something in there.

One little piece at a time, you imagined he’d taken care in laying out even the smallest screw before beginning the construction process.

This could work.

Another patently intrusive thought, you were sure that if Donnie kept this up then he’d find some relief from his ninpo.

You were flooded with pride.

Almost as soothing as the meditation itself, you took another dreamy stance, but this time in watching your partner. Curling up against the back of the sofa, you stared as he continued to run through his schematics. They detailed out like your feelings for him and all you could think of was how lucky you were to have him in your life. No matter how much strife it had come with, every moment with him was a precious one and it was in that headspace that Mikey came to.

His tongue darted in a roll of his jaw as if he too had awoken from a nap. Sucking saliva and rinsing with a swallow, Mikey stayed mostly silent as he adjusted his vision for your apartment. He looked straight in front of him, remembering where he was before he took great care in sneaking a look at you, an obvious case of not wanting to disturb you if you were still meditating.

He found you awake, but you held a finger to your lips.

The wrinkling of his gaze said he knew exactly what you were referring to and you pursed your lips with accusation.

He fluttered his lashes, similarly tucking his cheek against the couch while facing your direction.

You narrowed your gaze to translate your displeasure.

Mikey looked up roguishly before shooting you a wink.

You gave him one last sneer before you exhaled sharply to say you accepted that he was being sneaky since it helped Donnie.

Donnie’s prosthetic hit the floor a little heavy as he seemed jarred out of his meditation.

“So…?” Mikey led for you, even though there was a double entendre for your boyfriend.

“It was… interesting…” You spoke honestly. “I’m not sure I’d do it all the time, but I can see the use.”

“What’d you do?” Mikey wondered.

You thought of the best way to phrase it. “Thought about moving something with my mind.”

“Oh!” Mikey crooned. “That’s a cool way to start!”

“Well!” You pretended to take praise. “How was your body?”

“I’m all here.” He grinned brightly. “I did have a revelation!”

“I thought you weren’t going to reach enlightenment.” You teased, still curious.

Mikey held an impish hand to his chest before dropping it and the act. “I want to cook.”

You snorted. “Is that new?”

“Kinda…” He took on some level of nerves. “A potluck for one.”

“Huh?”

“I want to celebrate you.”

You stared at him. “What?”

Mikey smiled, his cheek squished against the couch. “No rotation. All of us at once. We break bread to say ‘you made it.’”

Your eyes widened.

He wanted to throw what was essentially a family meal, but fold you and Donnie in.

He wanted an excuse.

“Next week is three months since the day you were taken in.”

Had it been that long already?

“There’s been huge progress all around.” Mikey was getting a little too close to naming Donnie.

You had a complaint on your lips.

In fact, you had thousands of them.

Of all the ways this could go badly.

Then you saw breakfast.

You saw four uncomfortable men under one roof.

And you.

Unintentionally.

And yet again.

You’d brought them together.

Wasn’t that what you were trying to avoid?

It all came back to Leo.

Was he the only one?

You weren’t sure.

“We’ve all been busting our butts, you most of all. I think we all could use a meal that’s way too big that says we’re moving to the next step.”

“Which is…?”

“Us heading back out.” Mikey’s crow’s feet looked particularly joyous. “We keep going.”

Your new normal.

“I’m thinking I’ll whip up a bunch of stuff, cook and finish some here. The place will smell so good.”

That did sound nice.

Your gaze lowered and you tried to picture all four together.

It had been so long and everything so tenuous it was hard to imagine.

You mostly saw Leo.

Distant Leo, doing his best to not fall apart again.

Your chest tightened.

Mikey lightly touched your leg. “No pressure.”

“That’s not…” You sent him a half sure grin before you looked at Donnie.

You weren’t going to sway him this time.

This decision was his alone.

You translated this to your partner where he seemed to be waiting.

He took you in with a tilted chin that had many reservations.

You softened your gaze saying you knew them all too well.

He looked one step away from chuffing before his body loosened with a relaxation you also felt.

The meditation had worked.

Donnie gave a slow singular nod and you bowed your head slightly to show you deferred to him.

He took a seat in his chair as if it was a great effort and slumped with his own sigh.

Returning to Mikey found the younger man watching with an interested twinkle in his eye.

“Okay.” You gave a tentative grin. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Mikey hopped up and right back down so he was plopped closer to you with his phone manifesting in his hand. “Now tell me all your favorite foods, don’t hold back, go!”

You giggled and spent the rest of Mikey’s shift going on and on about food. From planning the menu to simply ranting about nearby restaurants, the time flew by. You soon had a menu laid out along with a detailed grocery list that Donnie had stepped in to say he would purchase. Even though you knew the action had an edge of fear to it, you took his participation as a good sign and Mikey offered to send you over the recipe list so you could send it to Donnie. You agreed and after lobbing way too many messages around your phone, Mikey soon shot upright. “Alrighty!”

You looked at him in confusion before going to check the time.

“Don’t wanna keep Raph waiting!” Mikey took a big step in front of you before rounding to where Leo’s portals usually appeared. “Oh, one more thing…”

“Yeah?” You did your best to look over the back of the couch.

You found Mikey staring at Donnie.

Your mate returned the gaze with growing concern.

“Think of this as thanks for your shitty bow!” Mikey split a manic grin.

Both you and Donnie tensed.

Mikey’s head snapped in your direction with a sickly tilt. “This bastard relapsed when you were in your coma.”

Donnie reared with the first bits of a snarl.

A blue portal appeared the second he tried and Mikey gave double peace signs while biting his tongue for a crazed expression as he fell backward through it.

You stared after.

Donnie made it several steps forward and you could feel the fumes coming off of him.

Raph then hurtled through the portal. “W-what happened?!”

You watched purple flicker and sputter in Donnie’s eye.

Raph’s own caught fire. “H-hey now…!”

“Relapsed…” You spoke fearfully.

“Y/N…” Donnie didn’t look at you and was instead locked onto the center of Raph’s plastron to where Mikey had been.

“Like… the drugs?” Against your leg’s weakness, you rose to better look over the couch. “You did drugs again…?”

“Ah…” Raph didn’t drop his attention, but what was happening fell into place for him. “Yeah… You shot up a few times, didn’t you?”

Raph knew.

Mikey knew.

You didn’t know.

“I needed to stay awake!” Donnie roared, taking another step forward.

You saw a ghost of Raph in red slip from his form.

“Awake and numb!!!” Spittle flecked as Donnie panted through his teeth.

Flickers of purple shimmered in the air.

Raph’s projection grew the slightest amount. “Donatello…”

Donnie’s heavy breathing filled the space.

Diffuse.

It would be better to diffuse the situation.

You weren’t even mad.

You were more haunted by the knowledge.

Donnie had been candid about making and taking drugs, but it had also seemed like he left them behind in the mania of his 20s.

You weren’t sure how to feel about them now.

They made sense to an extent, which placed you with a single question.

“Ha… have you since…?”

Donnie didn’t seem to be able to move, but his lips momentarily closed. “No…”

“Are you…?” He clearly wasn’t alright.

Not now.

Not in all the time since the attack.

There was something more.

Though there was glitter in the air and Donnie seemed to be close to hyperventilating, nothing had actually manifested.

No artillery.

No guns.

“Okay.” You finally spoke, a single note drop in the bucket.

It plopped and did nothing to change the amount held in the receptacle.

Things were different.

The lack of weaponry was a sign of that.

As Mikey had said: It was time to keep going.

“Okay.” You repeated, this time enforcing the syllables.

It wasn’t an immediate disengagement, but Donnie garnered enough strength from the sound to look at you.

His gaze pained with a broken blinker of purple and he continued to strain with his body.

The purple in the air flittered away and Raph’s projection slowly melded back with his body until Donnie slumped a certain amount.

A collective breath was released and only when Donnie collapsed back into his chair did Raph throw his hands up to claw them down his face. “Mikey! He’s such a little shit, I swear!”

You gave a puff of what wasn’t laughter and sank down into the couch.

“I did not want to get shot again!” Raph complained and had to take a step to anchor himself to the couch. “Not a way to start my shift.”

You sympathetically patted Raph’s hand where you could reach it. “Good news.”

“What’s that?” Raph’s face said he wanted more than the obvious.

You would exalt Donnie for successfully disengaging his ninpo for the first time later.

For now, there was something else to pass along.

“We’re having a dinner party.” You told him, feeling exhausted. “We’re what?” Raph deadpanned.

💜NEXT💜

I'm so sleepy, but i love my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

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

85 notes · View notes