#thought he was a good man- wished he was my dad instead only for him to prove he really was never that different | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goodlucktai · 3 days ago

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till you can breathe on your own

rise of the tmnt word count: 20k i wrote this fic for the turtle trenches server’s november gift exchange ! my giftee was @acewithapaintbrush and ace’s prompts were “found family, leosagi, wholesome disaster twins, and splinter being a good dad to the boys.” instead of being normal and picking one i decided to create an au that included all of those things at once and this is what i came up with. ace i really hope you enjoy it <3 happy turtle day ! title borrowed from keeping your head up by birdy

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When Leonardo was eight years old, he and his best friend survived a house fire.

The blaze was put out thanks to a passing yokai with a magic spell for rain newly purchased that she was happy to use to help, but two of the children attending lessons there came up unaccounted for. Panicked neighbors searched for upwards of an hour only to find the boys fast asleep in a cart of clean linens parked out front of the bath house.

There was a faint trace of mystic energy lingering around them but no one came forward as the one it belonged to, and they wouldn’t be able to explain what had happened. One minute they were trapped and frightened, and the next everything was blue and they were safe.

Ultimately the rescue was credited to a powerful good samaritan who wished to remain anonymous, and the townsfolk collectively decided to be grateful for the miracle without unraveling it any further.

Leonardo’s friend moved away while his house was repaired, and Leonardo was returned to where he belonged at the local orphanage. He smiled when the matron fussed over him, even though he didn’t feel like smiling, and continued to pretend like he didn’t hear the other kids calling him bad luck.

“You’d think someone would want him,” one of the older kids whispered during lunch. “Last time we had a turtle here they got snatched up in like a week.”

“Miss Toto says that way of thinking is archaic,” a tiny otter yokai piped up with remarkable authority, given that he clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word he was repeating. “Kameko has as much of a chance as the rest of us do.”

“Clearly,” the older kid muttered.

Leonardo, who wasn’t Leonardo yet—who was called Kameko by the orphanage matron because she wasn’t especially creative, and Lucky by the other kids so they could be mean in a sneaky, underhanded way, and Stripes by his best friend, who mattered more than any of them—spent a lot of time dreaming of having a chance.

He had no way of knowing that at the same time, miles away and a city above, an early-middle-aged man run ragged day in and out by three energetic children and sloughing through a persistent sadness was dreaming, too.

The man was dreaming of his own childhood; a garden with a pond and lines of laundry drying in the late summer sun, a delicious smell sneaking out the kitchen window where jiji was grilling fish for dinner, his mother lifting her head to grace him with a smile he once took for granted.

In the dream, she had to reach up to hold his face, because he was the same age now as she was when she died and several inches taller than her in adulthood. She didn’t mind his fur or snout or big rounded ears, and if anything the involuntary twitch of his whiskers only made her smile deepen.

“My sweet boy,” she murmured, “I’m so proud of you.”

“How?” he choked out. He clung to her arms. He had a thousand things he wanted to tell her. All that came tripping out was, “How can you be?”

“Because I know how big your heart is,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You love so richly and earnestly. Even after that was taken advantage of and betrayed, you found more room in your heart for your little ones. Your little turtles.”

The thought of his sons pierced through the gloom of self-hatred like an arrow of light, as simple as flipping a switch in a dark room. He wouldn’t trade a moment with them for anything—not even for another moment with his mother. The overwhelming grief and love coexisted as naturally as two little otters holding hands at sea.

“But don’t you know?” she asked. “Can’t you feel it? Did it get lost in that big heart of yours? One of your children is waiting for you.”

He jerked as if electrocuted, going stiff and still beneath his mother’s hands, because she couldn’t mean to say what it sounded like she was saying.

That tiny fourth turtle with the blue-patterned shell and bright gold eyes—the first one to smile and reach up to be held, the one that had fallen during their frantic escape and was left behind in the crush of the destroyed lab—the one the little shrine in his room belonged to, even though he didn’t have a proper photo, or a decent idea of what Blue would have looked like grown into personhood—the one that a corner of his heart belonged to, even now, even still—

“He’s alive, my darling,” his mother told him. In the dream, she sounded so certain. The clan symbol on her obi seemed to glow, a warm, shining thing that cast all darkness and doubt aside. “Go and bring my grandbaby home, okay?”

Hamato Yoshi woke up with a gasp, half-blinded by tears.

——

The boys took the news as well as they possibly could have. It would have felt wrong not to tell them—cruel to keep them in the dark, even if it would shelter them from a hope that might only lead into a dead-end.

They already knew of their fourth sibling, having long-since discovered the little shrine in Splinter’s room during a pre-Christmas snooping several years ago, but there hadn’t been much that Splinter could offer them when they peppered him for information and eventually those eager questions tapered off. They had only had a few months together in Draxum’s lab before Splinter could stage their escape and bring the facility down behind them—before tragedy had carved a hole into their brand-new family—and that wasn’t long enough to have more than a handful of stories to share. To do the baby’s memory anything resembling justice.

But since waking up from that dream, Splinter had reached out with his ninpo in the way he hadn’t done since he was very young, like stretching out an atrophied limb, and he felt it. A fourth presence in his heart. It was a very faint echo somewhere far away, like an imprint of smoke left in the sky after a firework. Distant now and fading, but once-bright. Once-blue.

And he knew. He knew Leonardo was alive.

“Red, you are in charge,” Splinter said, jittery with anticipation. He spared a moment to cup the snapper’s cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb over the rosy-colored diamond pattern there, and added, “Aunt June’s phone number is on the fridge if anything happens—but nothing had better happen! April can visit but you are not allowed to leave our home until I return.”

Red nodded several times, twisting his fingers together. He had inherited Splinter’s anxious heart, but he took being the oldest very seriously, and failure more seriously than that, for all that he was only nine.

“Are you going to get Leo?” Orange piped up, bouncing in place. He had, in fact, not stopped bouncing since he had gleaned the gist of the conversation that began nearly a full hour ago. “Are you going to bring him home?”

“I am going to try,” Splinter said, kneeling so that he could poke his youngest baby playfully in those ticklish spots on his sides that always elicited a sunny giggle.

Orange trilled in glee, and then he pulled his limbs and head into his tiny shell the way he often did when he was overexcited or overwhelmed and continued making turtle noises to himself from inside there.

Splinter caught the talkative box shell before it could clatter to the floor and offered it to Red, who held it to his front the way he hugged his stuffies.

“Okay my sweet boys,” Splinter said, “stay here and be good and I will see you in a short while.”

Purple trailed him to the front door, or what served as such in their repurposed underground home. After tugging on his coat and boots, Splinter turned to him and crouched down so they were at something approaching eye-level, even if eye contact did not seem to be on the table this morning.

“You said we hatched at the same time,” Purple surprised the hell out of him by saying. His recalcitrant softshell son very rarely spoke aloud unless asked a direct question, and here he was volunteering whole sentences without preamble. “You said he came out of his egg right after me. He had stripes, and eyes like mine. You called us twins.”

Leonardo was not a forbidden topic in their home, but he was a bit of a sore one. It ached to press on the bruise that was their missing part. Purple in particular had a difficult time making himself understood and being understood in turn. He was also incredibly stubborn, and hard to match wits with.

A twin must have sounded like a dream. Splinter wondered when Donatello had first shaped this little wish out of clay, and how often he spent taking it out and admiring it, wearing the rough edges into smoothness, giving it substance and character until all that was missing was the life. The color.

“He was not the same species of turtle as you,” Splinter said. “But you did hatch together, and you did have the same eyes. Blue would fuss at bedtime until I placed him on your shell. You tried to take chunks out of the alchemist’s fingers whenever he parted the two of you.” For tests, he didn’t feel it was necessary to add. He offered his hands, and added, “So that is what I called you. My twin babies.”

After a moment, Purple took his hands. His mouth was a firm line, golden eyes glued to the floor. There was enough of a wet shine in them that Splinter’s heart strained with the need to right every wrong for him at once.

“I will find him, Donatello,” Splinter said. “Now that I know he is out there waiting to be found, there is nothing that can stop me. It might take a long time, but we have waited quite a while already, haven’t we?”

Purple nodded, and then stepped forward to bury his snout in the front of Splinter’s coat. It meant that a hug would be not only tolerated but appreciated, and Splinter didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his little boy.

“Go on now,” Splinter said, only when Purple had extracted himself. He turned the child around by the shoulders and propelled him back to where Orange and Red were waiting. “I love you, little monsters,” he called loud enough to be heard by all three of them. “If the lair is still standing when I get home, you will get ice cream.”

Their noisy cheers followed him down the tunnel, warming him more effectively than direct sunlight ever could.

And now Splinter was back in the Hidden City, although he had sworn to himself he would never return.

His heart was racing, every nerve a livewire, so prepared he was for danger around each corner. He had hoped that the mad alchemist died in the destruction of the lab—had comforted himself with the fact, even, on those nights he woke up from bad dreams—but with Blue’s miraculous survival, Draxum might very well have lived too. Like a cockroach.

And so he was hesitant to trace his steps back to the ruins of Draxum’s lab. He was not even sure if he would be able to find it. There was a restless, dislocated thing inside of him that made standing still a painful exercise, he so badly wanted to run and run until he found the little turtle he was looking for—he just didn’t know where to go. Where to start. The Hidden City was larger than he remembered.

“Excuse me,” someone said, startling him. He turned to find a short beetle yokai in a rumpled button down shirt and slacks standing just behind him, mandibles clicking idly. The beetle smiled and said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice you seemed lost. Can I help in any way?”

It was Splinter’s first instinct to deny the apparent kindness. Lena—or Big Mama as she was called—had carved out the remains of his idealism as deftly as a gardener pulling up the last stubborn weed in a flower bed. People, he had been taught, were rarely kind for no reason.

But April’s mother was a force of nature in her own right, and had bullied Splinter into friendship with her within a week of their children meeting. A New Yorker to her core, June O’Neil had only needed a moment to adjust to the sight of a mutant rat and three mutant turtles, at which point any lingering strangeness was overshadowed by the relief of finally having another single parent to commiserate with. She was on-call for every scare, every tantrum that left Splinter feeling out of his depth, every milestone. She refused to allow him to wallow in self-pity while he had three little boys to raise.

June was the sole reason that there were a few shoots of hope growing in the ruin Lena left of him, stubborn and resilient and flowering. People were rarely kind for no reason, but rarely did not mean never. There was goodness to be found if one took the time to look for it. The risk did not always pay off, but the reward when it did was worthwhile every time.

And so Splinter took his heart in his hands and faced the stranger and said, “Yes, please. If you’re able. I need help.”

The beetle yokai, a friendly, down-to-earth character named Cricket, listened to the bare bones of Splinter’s story and immediately began to guide him down the street. It was a street that would not have looked out of place in Osaka in the 80s. There were storefronts with neon signs and restaurants with enticing noren doors and the steady foot traffic of thousands of yokai milling about their day. No one paid a tall rat mutant any mind.

“You’ll want the Chamber of Decisions,” Cricket said with a certainty that settled one small inch of the chaos in Splinter’s heart. “There will be someone there who can help you find your son.”

The beetle yokai took time enough out of his own day to show Splinter all the way through a startlingly mundane municipal building to a floor with a placard on the wall declaring it the Civil Courts. He even waited in line with Splinter, making pleasant conversation, until it was his turn to step forward and address the employee behind the front desk.

“Goodbye,” Cricket said at that point, stepping away. “And good luck!”

He was gone before Splinter could thank him, and the gazelle yokai behind the desk repeated, “Next,” in a tone that suggested she would be deeply unhappy to say it a third time.

“Yes,” Splinter said quickly, “sorry, that’s me.”

“What is your name?” the yokai asked briskly. She had long spiraling horns and a long, narrow face, deceptively delicate. She wore a badge on a lanyard around her neck that read Helena, Court Clerk, and then a mess of characters beneath it that did not look like English or Japanese.

“Hamato Yoshi,” Splinter replied by rote. When he spoke, a small crystal hovering unobtrusively above the desk glowed a clear spring green. It seemed to indicate his truthfulness, because the yokai didn’t request any further proof of identity.

“Hamato?” the yokai, presumably Helena, said with a spark of interest. She read something from the text that populated on the holographic tablet in front of her and then added, “We have a backlog of forms here for you. It has been a long time since someone has claimed tenancy of your clan’s branch house in Neo Edo. I assume that’s why you’re here?”

“Uh,” Splinter said intelligently, “no. What?”

“The Hamato Estate,” Helena said. She seemed less than impressed with him. “The one that has been sitting in disrepair and bringing property values of the neighborhood down for more than a century. That has nothing to do with your visit today?”

The Chamber of Decisions was very human in structure, and the bureaucracy was completely disarming. Splinter didn’t know what he showed up expecting to find here but he sort of felt as though he was walking through a lucid dream.

“Sorry, no, I—I was unaware my family had any dealings in the Hidden Cities at all. I was raised in Japan. In—a human city in Japan. And now my children and I live in New York.”

Helena’s expression cleared with understanding, her attitude suddenly more helpful as she seemed to realize Splinter was not being willfully obtuse. She opened a drawer of the filing cabinet beside her desk and rifled through it until she came up with form after form that accumulated in an intimidating heap.

Splinter bit the inside of his mouth so that he wouldn’t say something unfortunate. He was catching up to himself, the surprise and uncertainty of the situation he had found himself in fading into the background, his single-minded focus sharpening into a point once again.

Blue had waited long enough to be found. It was deeply unfair to make him wait even a moment more. And unfair to Splinter, too, who just wanted to be given a direction that he could run in until he could scoop his son up and never let him go again.

“Excuse me,” Splinter said, wrestling with himself until a semblance of good manners won its cage match with snarling impatience, “but I am here because I was told you might help me locate a missing child.”

The gazelle’s head jerked up, hooved hands stilling. “What missing child?”

For the second time that day, Splinter explained his situation to a stranger. Not the whole thing; not the nature of his or his sons’ mutations, or the desperate life-or-death struggle that preceded their flight from the destroyed lab into the nearby city—this city—and then ultimately New York. But the gist of it. The fire, and the baby who fell from his arms, and the long years he has spent mourning a son he thought had died. That much he imparted as succinctly as he knew how.

Helena punctuated his story with clipped nods, listening intently. She sifted through the stacked bundles of paperwork and withdrew two or three that she placed on the top of the pile.

“We will register you and your children as citizens of the Hidden Cities,” she said firmly when Splinter had finished detailing the dream that led him to believe his son was alive. “Your clan has already been established here for centuries, so this will not take long. As a citizen you will have the full weight and reach of this court’s resources behind you. We will locate your son.”

If there had been a chair behind him, Splinter would have collapsed into it. As it is, he only swayed on his feet for a moment, before mustering a hoarse, “Thank you.”

After the dream of his mother, Splinter had been feeling acutely guilty of the way he had left his family name well behind him, crafting a new identity for a new life in America. Now he was only grateful that Lena and that lunatic Draxum would not think twice about a rat mutant named Hamato Yoshi, or his children.

It felt surreal to write down their names—Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo. For so long, they had been only his precious joys. The human world was not one he could trust to appreciate them. The O’Neils were a shining exception, one in a million. So his little family was kept a well-guarded secret.

And now here he was, signing an official document that gave his turtles another place to belong, a place that could not be taken away by a mad alchemist or scheming spider.

“If you come with me, I can take you to the appropriate department,” Helena said, cordial and efficient as she placed the last of the paperwork in a folder that glowed a friendly green before disappearing into fragments of light that spelled out ‘FILED.’ “It’s lucky you came when you did. We have a witch on retainer, and we would have called her in for this, but she’s already working from the office today.”

“Right,” Splinter said, smoothing down his shirt with nervous fingers.

He didn’t know what his expression was doing, but it seemed to give the gazelle yokai a sense of urgency. She hustled him down a couple of halls and through more than one doorway that seemed to lead to another building entirely, until he was hopelessly lost somewhere in the depths of the administration.

But the office he finally stepped into was one that wouldn’t have looked place in any of the high rise buildings in FiDi, with an executive desk of solid wood, a neat row of filing cabinets, a less neat wall of overflowing shelves, and sparse, impersonal decor. There were a few oddities—self-watering hanging plants suspended in front of the window, and a glowing crystal levitating above the desk where a computer might have sat otherwise—but nothing that made Splinter’s animal hindbrain balk at the door.

The young woman sitting behind the desk looked up and smiled, round brown face dimpled and kind. Half of her voluminous braided hair was piled on top of her head in a neat bun, while the rest framed her shoulders in interchanging plaits of black and mint green. Her long, pointed ears were pierced a dozen times each and dripping in tiny precious gemstones.

“Hello there, Helena and friend,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”

“Nimue, this is Hamato-san. He recently had a prophetic dream that a child he lost in infancy is, in fact, alive,” Helena replied promptly. “We’ll need a spell for finding.”

It sounded actually insane when put so plainly, but she spoke in a way that reminded Splinter of his former account manager, no-nonsense and judicious. The young lady behind the desk took them both seriously and stood, brushing her braids back over her shoulder.

“I’ll start at once,” Nimue said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Summon me if you need anything else,” Helena said briskly. “I’ll be finalizing the documentation up front.”

Both yokai and witch were very perfunctory about the whole thing, as if it was business as usual. It went a long way in disarming that last kernel of doubt that Splinter had harbored every step of the way here.

With the doubt uprooted, there was space at last for painful, smothered hope to burst into full and violent bloom.

He was shuffled into the adjoining room and into a squashy loveseat. This area seemed much more like a witch’s workshop; there were tricky, delicate glass instruments whirring away under their own power at a carved wooden table in the corner, and stacks of heavy leather volumes on all the shelves and flat surfaces, interspersed with jars of things like feathers and stones and shiny beetle shells. Dried herbs and flowers dangled in neat bundles from a rack on the ceiling, where motes of something too colorful to be dust floated in wandering circles. There was a small furry animal curled up to sleep on the arm rest of the chair opposite Splinter’s, light brown with a darker brown band across its eyes. When it lifted its head at the sound of the door closing, Splinter realized it was a ferret.

“Please excuse the mess,” Nimue said, “I’m really not here that often so I tend not to prioritize organization. I know it’s a sad excuse.”

“I’m a single father parenting thr—four boys,” Splinter replied, heart skipping a beat at the self-correction. He would be parenting four. “The last thing I am qualified to judge anyone on is tidiness.”

Nimue laughed. “I’ll take it! Now, I told Helena this would only be a moment, and I meant every word. There are lots of disclaimers and policies I could bog you down with, and probably ought to, but I know they’ll just go in one ear and out the other. You’re here to find your son, and that’s what I’m going to help you do.”

“Yes,” Splinter breathed. “Please.”

“Of course! A spell for finding is one of my favorites, not in the least because it’s super simple.”

Nimue sat across from him, lifted the ferret off the arm of her chair and into her lap, and then held out both her hands. Splinter took them without second-guessing it.

“Magic draws so much from nature,” the witch went on. As she spoke, various pieces of glass or crystal in the room began to glow, as if her voice contained a brilliance that could be caught and reflected back. “In our spells, we use plants, stones, animal shed—things given by the earth—and sometimes energy generated by a storm or the sea. A friend that I graduated university with channels power from lightning. Very flashy, but very hard to pin down.”

A pool of light formed between them, beneath their joined hands. It was flat and still, like the surface of calm water. Four little jewels in bright candy colors shone through—red, orange and purple clustered together, and blue clear on the other end. Splinter’s heart ached; he knew them. He knew them.

“At its core, it’s orderly,” Nimue said, her voice calm and smiling. “The most powerful rituals I know of are tied to star charts or phases of the moon, because even celestial bodies follow a pattern. Magic wants to make right. It wants to return things. And so a spell like this costs absolutely nothing. A lost child belongs with their family; that’s as fundamental a thing as gravity.”

She let go of Splinter’s hands and turned her own to catch the pool of light in the cup of her palms. She closed her hands together, as if compressing something as tight as possible between them, and then with a sudden jerking motion, flung them up and open.

The light spread between them in a translucent, shimmering curtain. It looked like a chart, or a map, though not one Splinter had any hope of reading.

Nimue hummed in what could either be surprise or delight, her smile showing teeth.

“Oh, look at how clear and bright they are,” she cooed, “shining like stars. You must be so proud. And here’s little boy blue,” she added, pointing out the lonely light living by itself, isolated from the others. “He’s in Sawara Town, not too far from here.”

Splinter’s heart was a frantic drum inside his chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d taken a single full, deep breath since he woke up from that dream that brought him to this moment in the first place. He twitched with the urge to scoop those colorful, twinkling little lights out of the rest and hold them close, hold them safe.

“So what now?” he managed to choke out. “Are you going to teleport me there or something?”

Nimue laughed again, scritching the ferret’s ruff with the tips of her fingers.

“Teleport? I’m good but I’m not that good! I’ll call you a cab.”

Not even two full hours later, Splinter was walking up the main street of Sawara. It was a bustling rural town with a mighty canal for a heart, filled with wooden fishing boats and framed by thin wisps of willow trees. Machiya-style houses rambled along in tight rows on either side of the waterway, most of them with front doors and shutters slid open to display shop spaces.

Splinter stopped at a dry goods store to ask for directions to the orphanage, and the storeowner pointed him toward the sprawling estate at the edge of town, tucked into the natural bend of the river.

He was floating in that dream feeling again. Everything was two inches left of reality. He was half-prepared to discover that this day felt impossible because it was impossible and he should have known better than to believe it could be this easy. He was half-prepared for someone to yank the curtain back and reveal the wizard was just some guy running a long con the whole time. Splinter had always, always been the punchline of a bad joke.

But he promised the boys he would find their brother. He thought of Purple’s eyes, wide with hope, and his quiet voice saying, “You called us twins.” He thought of that sweet baby he had only briefly been anything like a father to, the first of the four to smile at him, the first one to want to be held by him.

Resolve filled every chamber of his heart until it overflowed from there and filled the rest of him for good measure. That floating, dreaming feeling scattered into painful cognizance.

He was Lou Jitsu. He was Hamato Atsuko’s only son. If life had taught him anything, it was how to take a punch. He would follow this road to wherever it led, and if Blue was not at the end of it, then he would find another road to follow. He would walk forever if he had to. He would let his heart get broken a hundred thousand times.

Splinter let himself through the gate and strode up the meandering path toward the front of the house. He wondered if he ought to announce himself, and then discovered a doorbell half-hidden beneath the leaves of a drooping hanging plant. He rang it, and squared his shoulders, and waited.

After about a minute, the door slid open to reveal a harried-looking pangolin yokai with a squirming raccoon child in her arms. It was a scene immediately familiar to Splinter as a pre-naptime battle of wills.

“Oh, hello,” the pangolin said, offering a smile as she managed not to drop the uncooperative toddler with a deftness that spoke of years of experience. “My name is Tomomi, I’m the matron here. How can I help you?”

“Hello,” Splinter replied, returning her bow automatically. He realized suddenly that he probably should have been practicing what he would say in this moment, because he was coming up blank. “Ah, my name is Hamato Yoshi, and I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for my kid.”

Nailed it.

“You may need to be slightly more specific than that,” the matron said, bemused.

“Right,” Splinter said. Specifics. He could do specifics. “I had a dream. And then there was a whole thing with a witch and a finding spell. Uh, I have documentation? That the court clerk sent with me?”

Tomomi maneuvered the child into one arm and reached for the papers Splinter offered with her freed hand, all of them stamped with Helena’s imposing seal. As she read, her eyebrows made a shocked jump toward her scaly hairline.

Splinter’s heart fluttered madly. His chest felt like a cage full of restless birds.

“My son was lost to me when he was a baby, and I believed that he was dead. Something happened recently that—that revealed him to me. It showed me that he was still alive. If he’s here, I—I want him. I have always wanted him. He has three brothers who have been missing him, too. He has never,” Splinter faltered, and had to swallow twice before he could go on, “he has never been unwanted, not even for a single day.”

“Oh, my spirits,” Tomomi murmured, crouching to let the little raccoon yokai slide free and then dart victoriously away. She straightened again, a hand pressed flat to her chest as she passed the papers back, perfectly stunned. “If he’s here, and he’s yours, I’ll help you however I can. What can you tell me about him?”

Splinter said, “He’s—he’s a little turtle. Eight years old. His shell is—just, one moment.”

With shaking hands, he crammed the documents into his jacket pocket and withdrew his phone instead. His pictures weren’t sorted into albums, because 99.99% of them were all pictures of his children or April, rendering any attempt to sort them entirely redundant. That did mean he had to swipe for a moment before he found a decent photo of Orange’s carapace, and the warm yellow pattern of his scutes.

“His shell pattern would be very similar to his brother’s, you see? And his eyes were this color,” Splinter went on, swiping to a picture of Purple glaring resolutely away from the camera, golden eyes distinctive even when narrowed and averted behind thick prescription glasses. “He was—he was very sweet. Very talkative. He wanted to be held all hours of the day. He—”

“He’s here, Hamato-san,” Tomomi blurted, eyes huge.

“He’s… oh.” Splinter stared back at her, phone still extended dumbly in his hand. He felt frozen in place. A gust of wind would probably have been enough to knock him clear over. “He’s here?”

The matron seemed to be in disbelief herself, staring at Splinter as though he was a figment of her imagination and if she moved too suddenly he might disappear.

“I can’t believe it. After all this time.” Then she shook her head, and wrapped professionalism back around her shoulders like a trusty cloak. She said, “Please come with me to my office, I’ll have Kameko brought to us there.”

Kameko. Turtle child. Splinter didn’t know how he felt about that name, but kept it to himself. He was minutes—minutes— away now. If he absolutely had to go crashing through every single wall in this building one by one to find his child, that was entirely within his power. He would save that as the nuclear option, but not remove it from the table entirely.

“He really is the sweetest thing,” Tomomi said. “No trouble at all, helpful as can be. Incredibly smart for his age—he’s leagues ahead of his classmates.”

Like his brothers, Splinter thought, with a sort of dazed, wondering pride. All of them were happy little boys with distinct, dynamic personalities, but June—who had been a parent for one whole year longer than Splinter and had the added experience of helping to keep a dozen nieces and nephews alive, and was therefore the expert between the two of them—had often expressed surprise at how quickly the turtles tore through their learning material.

Donatello was an unstoppable force that had yet to encounter an immovable object, but Raphael and Michelangelo were both well ahead of the curve, too. Splinter wondered, sometimes, if that had been part of Draxum’s design for them.

“The younger kids adore him, though the older ones ostracize him a bit,” Tomomi was saying. “He’s had a number of failed placements, I’m afraid. Just bad luck.” She winced, as though the word left a bad taste on her tongue, and hurried to add, “It’s been hard on him since his friend moved away. He really deserves this. You’ll see.”

She was clearly trying to upsell the kid, as if to preemptively change Splinter’s mind about giving him up. As if there was any force in the universe that could even dream of being strong enough to compel him to do that.

The orphanage as they walked through it was noisy. Kids in clothes that were second-hand but clean and well-fitting chased each other down hallways and in and out of rooms at speed. The building itself showed the inevitable wear and tear that came of hordes of children putting their marks on the place, but it was not dirty, or drafty, or in any sort of disrepair. No one looked hurt or underfed. There was a comfortable amount of clutter, plush toys and books and electronics scattered about the den they passed by. In all corners of the house there was shrieking and laughter and the thunder of little running feet.

Yoshi was feeling a hundred thousand things right now, all of them in immediate conflict with each other and jostling for first place, but relief was chief among them. He had, in a shadowy corner in the back of his mind, feared the worst upon hearing his child was living in an orphanage. At a glance, the bulk of those fears were dispelled. It was good to know that he probably would not have to raze this place to the ground for their poor treatment of Blue. He could not imagine that would endear him to Helena.

Tomomi leaned into an open doorway and called out, “Ren, please find Kameko and have him meet me in my office, okay? It’s important that he comes quickly.”

“Okay, Miss Toto!” someone called back, and then a tiny otter yokai went zipping away.

“I don’t know all of his hiding spots, I’m afraid,” the matron murmured, opening another door further down the hall and inviting him inside. “I don’t want to take you on a wild goose chase and waste a second more of your time. You’ve waited long enough already.”

“Thank you,” Splinter said. He sank into the seat she offered him and twisted his fingers, a nervous tic that his eldest son had inherited from him directly. “You said—he’s ostracized by the older kids? Why?”

Tomomi moved around the office, preparing cups of tea with hot water from an electric kettle. She said, “Yokai are very superstitious, as you well know.” Splinter did not know, actually, but nodded to maintain the ruse that he had been a rat yokai his entire life. “Turtles are viewed as—well, lucky. But since every single one of Kameko’s placements failed for some reason or another, some of the children decided he must be an omen for bad luck instead of good. It’s silliness, Hamato-san. But as much as he claimed it never bothered him, I’m sure it must have.”

Splinter had to take a moment to absorb that. Blue was a miracle. The fact that he was alive at all—the Hamato clan in its entirety must have spent every scrap of its allotted good fortune for the next billion year

Bad luck, he thought with a bewildered scoff. Where?

He held the teacup between his hands but forgot what to do with it. He was doing his best to listen to Tomomi but all of his attention craned toward the door instead. Riveted to each pair of footsteps that thundered past, each bright, energetic voice, each unfamiliar spark of qi…

Splinter stopped breathing a second before a knock sounded on the doorframe.

“Miss Toto,” a young voice called. “Renren said you wanted to see me?”

Tomomi glanced at Splinter sidelong and then called back, “Come on in, sweetie. There’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

He was unaware of moving, but somehow Splinter turned in time to watch the door rattle open, and there he was.

In a neat coral pink and cream-colored jinbei, knees dirty from playing outside. Not quite grown into his stripes yet, still huge bright red crescents that took up most of his face. Eyes the same color as Donatello’s, the same shape as Splinter’s. Alive. Healthy. Small for his age. The brightest thing in this little riverside town.

Leonardo. Blue.

A painfully dislocated piece of Splinter’s long-broken heart clicked neatly back into place.

The boy blinked and then smiled widely. He was all at once perfectly charming, happy to be standing there. Tomomi smiled back at him like a knee-jerk reaction and ushered him inside.

“Hi!” Blue said brightly. “Nice to meet you!”

Splinter could only sit there and take him in. His smile. The sound of his voice. He was so alive.

“Kameko, this is Hamato Yoshi-san,” Tomomi said, steering the turtle closer to Splinter’s seat. “He’s come all the way from the human world to find you.”

Blue’s smile faltered for a split-second, giving away his confusion. He had probably been fed a lot of lines from people looking to adopt a lucky turtle into their family over the last eight years, but this one was brand new.

It was hard to explain to his little face that he had been—left behind. That Splinter had spent the entirety of his life mourning him. That looking at him was like looking at a ghost. Splinter did the best he could, grateful that Tomomi stepped in to pick things up wherever he faltered. With her help, he didn’t make an entire mess of the conversation.

“I have brothers?” was the first question Blue asked when they had finished. “I really do?”

“Yes, you—here, you can look,” Splinter said clumsily, offering his phone again. Offering anything.

The turtle looked up into his face, and then over at Tomomi, and only took it after their combined reassurances. He was hesitant with the device even then, as though half-expecting Splinter to change his mind and berate him for handling it at all.

But when the camera roll came up, Blue’s breath hitched, and all his uncertainty blew clean away. He blew up one of the photos and swiped through them that way, full-screen snapshots of a life he had missed out on. He stared intently at each picture as though doing his best to memorize each one in as much time as he was allowed to look.

“What,” he started to ask, and then darted a quick glance up at Splinter again. Splinter nodded, heart in his throat, and Blue dared to continue, “What are they like?”

Carefully, Splinter shifted closer, until he and his son were side by side. Reaching around him, Splinter said, “Raphael is your biggest brother, and a year older than you. He may appear spiky and imposing, but he is actually very sensitive, and fond of stuffed animals and Barbie movies. I call him Red because of his rosy diamond patterns.”

Blue mouthed ‘Raphael,’ drinking him in.

The next few pictures were a blurred mess, Splinter’s attempt at taking photos while managing chaos as his boys helped in the kitchen the morning of April’s tenth birthday. Finally he landed on a clear one of Orange, covered in a dusting of flour, a comically large mixing bowl of funfetti cake batter in his arms that he had insisted he could handle without help.

“This is Michelangelo. He is the youngest, only seven now. He is silly and spirited and will probably take over the world one day. We’ll all be better off with him in charge, I think. He would work all day long to win a single smile from someone he loves. Can you guess what his nickname is?”

Blue traced his little brother’s sunny spots with his eyes, overwhelmed. Still he guessed correctly, a soft-spoken, “Orange.”

“Yes,” Splinter said. “Our crazy Mikan.”

“Then this is—” Blue said, swiping on his own to a picture of the only remaining sibling. “Purple?”

“Mm. Donatello. He is about a minute older than you, if that. He is smarter than any one hundred people put together, and creates spectacular things out of scraps and discards. But he struggles to make himself understood, so often opts out of talking at all. It does not mean he does not have anything to say.”

This final photo rattled Blue completely, because there was an obvious likeness there. Donatello’s striking eyes were a mirror image of Leonardo’s own. There was no argument to be had about it—they were related.

Remembering Purple’s burdened little hope, Splinter can’t help but add, “I once made the comment to him that the two of you could be twins, because you hatched together, and you were inseparable for every moment after. Donatello has latched onto the idea. And because of who he is as a person, I’m pretty sure he will die on that hill.”

Tomomi looked politely confused by the slang, but Blue huffed out an involuntary laugh, which was Splinter’s goal in the first place.

“What’s, um,” Blue asked, “my name? Those ones—they all match. They’re artists. We talked about them in class once. Did I—did I match, too?”

“You did,” Splinter replied at once, trying to sound completely normal about the question. “I named you Leonardo. You were fearless, you wanted to see everything, you wanted to be everyone’s friend. Nothing could slow you down.” He reached out, telegraphing every inch of the move as he made it, and cradled that precious striped face in one careful hand. “My little lion. My Baby Blue.”

Leonardo didn’t cry, though it looked like he would like to. He reached up and seized Splinter’s wrist in both hands instead, clinging with the disproportionate strength Splinter was used to from raising his brothers. The four turtles were meant to be weapons, genetically altered to that end, but Splinter had taken one look at the freshly mutated babies and instantly resolved that he would secure a normal life for them if it was the last thing he ever did.

He felt every inch of that resolve rekindled in this moment. He would do anything. He would topple a hundred laboratories, fight a thousand warrior alchemists, survive a million rounds in the Battle Nexus. If that was what it took to keep his Blue, to bring him home. He would do all of that in a heartbeat.

“Well,” Tomomi said, unselfconscious about the tears she was blotting away, “let’s just get a few things signed away, and Kame—ah, Leonardo can start the first day of his new life! Sweetie, how about you go and get your things packed? You can say goodbye to your friends, too.”

Blue pressed his cheek more firmly into Splinter’s palm, not wanting to go. Not wanting to test the limits of this strange, perfect dream. Splinter understood completely, and would prefer that his second-youngest child never left his sight again.

But he didn’t want Blue to be afraid. He didn’t want to teach him fear.

So Splinter packed away his own anxieties and said, “Why don’t you hold onto my phone for me? It seems I will have my hands full with paperwork. It would be a lot of help.”

“Okay,” the little turtle said, reluctantly drawing away. He kept the phone in a tight grip. “I’m a good helper. And a quick packer! I’ll be right back!”

“Don’t forget to say goodbye!” Tomomi called after him, but she was only talking to an empty doorway, the door itself left open and Leonardo’s running footsteps already halfway down the hall. “I wish I could bottle up some of that energy and keep it for a rainy day,” she said lightheartedly, getting up to close the door herself.

“I know what you mean,” Splinter said, fully sincere.

“We really don’t have a lot for you to sign here, since the Chamber has already processed the lion’s share of the paperwork, and he’s rightfully yours to begin with,” Tomomi explained. “I just need you to hear a few things.”

Splinter nodded, giving her his complete, undivided attention for the first time since he arrived. She didn’t seem to know what to do with it, flustered as she shuffled through a drawer of file folders.

“Ka—Leonardo,” Tomomi corrected herself again ruefully, “has had a rather hard time. I’ll give you a copy of his file, since he’ll pop back in here at any moment, and I hate to discuss it in front of him, but it’s important for you to fully understand. He’s been handed a lot of disappointments in his life. Please be patient. It might take him a long time to really trust you.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have the rest of our lives,” Splinter said firmly. “Blue could be a crazy man-eating alien for all I care—but if he’s going to terrorize humans, he can do it at home.”

The pangolin yokai laughed. “I’ll quote you on that. I also wanted you to be aware that we had a bit of a scare recently. He used to go into town to practice kendo every evening. A few nights ago, some of the other students decided to run around and cause trouble by the hearth,” her curt tone made it clear what she thought about that, “and started a fire that consumed the house. Leonardo was one of two children trapped inside.”

“A fire?” Splinter parroted, halfway out of his seat in a second. He thought of the densely populated town down the way, the rows of houses he had passed that were all made of wood and straw and rice paper. Houses that would go up like tinder with a single misplaced spark.

His baby, in a burning house.

“He was rescued, and only sustained some minor burns and smoke sickness,” Tomomi was quick to reassure. “We had the boys both seen by a healer first thing. I’m letting you know because I would want to know, and Leonardo is unlikely to mention it at all.”

For a moment, Splinter could only imagine the horrifying what-if scenario; what if Leonardo hadn’t been rescued? What if Splinter’s dream had come a day too late? What if they had discovered Leonardo had been alive and that they had already lost him a second time? What if they had never discovered him at all, and he had died as a child that everyone believed nobody wanted?

Yoshi, he could almost hear his mother scolding him, clear as day, what good does it do you to think about that? It did not happen. Life is happening now. You will miss it if you don’t pay attention.

“Yes,” he said belatedly, bobbing his head. “Right. Anything at all you feel is important, please tell me.”

They only had ten or so minutes to talk before Blue came back at top speed. Along the way he had collected that little otter yokai, as well as a fluffy owl in a pink yukata and a lizard whose green scales shimmered into a dull yellow as Splinter watched.

“Koko’s leaving again?” the lizard demanded. “Is Ren gonna get that whole room to himself now? That’s not fair.”

“Shut up,” the owl said to her sharply, then turned to ask, “Is he really leaving, Miss Toto?”

“I’m afraid so, Susumu,” the matron said. “Have you all said your goodbyes, darlings?”

The question caused the otter child to burst into tears instantly. Leonardo was quick to drop his bag, shove Splinter’s phone into the pocket of his shorts, and scoop his little foster sibling’s face up in his hands.

“Renren, don’t cry! How am I supposed to be brave if the bravest person I know is crying, huh?”

“I’m not crying,” the otter sobbed miserably, “I’m just, just so happy for you!”

“Great, I won’t even have to miss you, because Ren’s gonna keep repeating every single stupid thing he’s ever heard you say,” the owl complained, but she put her winged arms around them both and squeezed. “Bye, Koko. I hope these are your people for real this time.”

“Thanks, Suzy,” Blue replied, bonking their heads together lightly. “Take care of yourself or I’ll haunt your dreams!”

“Haunt your dreams,” Ren parroted thickly.

“And if you see Snowy—” Blue added in a quieter voice.

“I’ll tell him everything, don’t worry,” Susumu said, and hefted Ren away with her when she stepped back into the hall.

That left the lizard girl, who looked as though she wanted to shrivel into a tiny bug and disappear through the floorboards with the attention of everyone else focused on her. Shoulders hunched, she whacked Leonardo in the shins with her long tail.

“I think you should start biting people,” she announced.

“Niji,” Tomomi said warningly.

The lizard lifted her chin, scales shifting from yellow to defiant red. “I mean it. If this new dad is mean just bite the hell out of him. Then he’ll send you back here and no one else will want you and we can age out of the system together and go start a gang.”

“Niji!”

“Deal,” Blue said, and they shook on it. It was precious.

Later, when all goodbyes had been made and Blue had been cried on by the pangolin matron and it was finally just the two of them making the journey back into town, Blue looked up at Splinter and said, “I won’t really bite you, Hamato-san. I just wanted to make Niji feel better. She tries to sound mean but she worries a lot.”

“You have my full permission to take a bite out of any grown-up who tries to hurt you in any way,” Splinter said, smiling at him. He was carrying his child’s bag over his shoulder with one hand, the other clutched tight in both of Blue’s. “And you can call me whatever makes you comfortable, but Hamato-san is a little stuffy, don’t you think? If you don’t want to try ‘dad,’ how about Splinter?”

“Splinter?” Leonardo bounced on his feet. “Is that a code-name? Do you have a secret identity?”

The walk was long, but it went by quickly, peppered by question after question once Blue seemed to realize Splinter did not mind answering them.

Where do you live? Have you always lived there? What’s California like? What’s New York City like? Do you know lots of humans? Are they nice? Who’s April? Will my brothers like me?

Splinter answered, and explained, and reassured. Mostly, he listened to Blue’s animated voice that did its best to fill any empty space it found. Blue was not the jaded, angry child that Splinter himself once was, even if he had just as much—if not more—reason to be. But he was not a naïve boy, either. Hope had been all but trained out of him by now, the way it had clearly been trained out of Niji back at the orphanage. It was still there, clinging on with the tips of its fingers, but only just.

And when Splinter tilted his head back and laughed at the clever joke Blue came up with on the spot, he saw that fragile little hope peeking out at him in the form of a crooked smile, shy and earnest and daring.

Afternoon had given way to evening by the time they arrived at the edge of town where the cab was waiting. The driver, a skeleton yokai, was a local, and seemed happy to idle there and let the meter run since it was on the City’s dime.

He glanced up from his sudoku book when Splinter and Blue approached and belted out, “Well, look who it is! Hey, kiddo!”

“Hi Benny!” Blue shouted back. “¿Cómo estás?”

“Estoy bien, niño. And you’re doing just fine, too, huh? Guess I won’t be giving you many rides anymore. Hopefully this one sticks.”

Despite his flippant tone, the last remark was clearly aimed at Splinter. Splinter, for his part, held his son’s hand a little tighter and tried not to let the implications sting. Blue was so used to being shuttled back and forth that he was on first-name basis with the guy doing the shuttling. Blue had a reputation in this town as being an unwanted, oft-returned orphan.

Splinter was simultaneously offended by anyone who would deem his precious child an unworthy addition, and endlessly grateful he had not been snatched up before his family had a chance to claim him.

“This one,” Splinter said, flinty, “will stick.”

The driver muttered something in Spanish that made Blue muffle giggles behind his hand, and Splinter magnanimously decided to ignore that. The two grown-ups affected a playful antagonism for the duration of the hour and a half car ride, bantering back and forth, because anything that made Blue forget himself enough to lean forward against his seatbelt and fill the cab with chatter was worth doing.

Benny did not let them go after dropping them off until Splinter agreed to bring the children to visit Benny’s cousin’s restaurant in Neo Edo sometime soon. Only then did he lower a bony hand out the driver’s side window so that Blue could bounce forward and bump their fists together.

“Nos vemos, chiquito,” the skeleton cabbie said fondly. “Have a good life, got it? We’ll have problems if you don’t.”

He pointed warningly at Splinter, letting him know exactly who the problems would be had with.

“See you, Benny!” Leonardo said. His eyes were wet, but he did not let his bright smile slip an inch. Splinter had worked with professional actors less talented than this nine year old boy. “I’ll be good, promise!”

“You are already good,” Splinter couldn’t help but interject, brushing a hand over the crown of the little turtle’s head. “That’s quite enough of that. Let’s be happy instead.”

——

Raphael’s initial impression of his newest little brother was that he was very brave.

He was tiny, not much bigger than Mikey, with bright yellow stripes on his arms and legs, and two big red ones on his face that curved over his cheeks and eyes. Pops carried him into the lair when he first brought Leonardo home, because the tunnels that wound to and around their house were dark and maze-like. Sometimes Raphie got lost in them if he strayed too far and he’d lived there forever.

Raph remembered thinking how small Leo was, in a huge, confusing place, surrounded by people he had never met before. It would have been overwhelming for anybody, but he didn’t cry at all. He smiled instead, big and silly, like there was nothing in his whole life he needed to be scared of, actually.

As Raph got to know him, he realized that Leo very rarely wasn’t smiling.

He was even smiling a little bit as he poked his head through Raphie’s doorway in the middle of the night.

“Hi,” Leo whispered, even though he could tell Raph was awake.

He was doing that thing he always did, greeting first and then hanging back to make sure he was welcome. He never just walked into a room or jumped into a conversation. Raph probably wouldn’t have noticed Leo did that if he hadn’t heard Aunt Junie and Pops talking about it a few days ago.

Raph wiped his eyes on his blanket quickly and tried to sound like he hadn’t been crying.

“Hi, Leo. C’mere.”

The smaller turtle crossed the room at a run, climbing up into the bed and under the offered comforter. Raph pulled it up over both their heads when he was settled. The dark, warm space beneath the blanket felt the way Raph imagined the inside of his shell would feel if he could hide there. He squeezed Lamby until she glowed from the star on her belly and laid her between them so they had just enough light to see each other by.

It was a familiar ritual for Raph. It was what he always did for Mikey and Donnie when they sought him out after bedtime.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked in his quietest voice.

“I’m okay,” Raph assured him quickly, feeling stupid about the tacky feeling on his cheeks and his puffy eyes. “Don’t worry about Raph.” When Leo’s brow wrinkled, not comprehending why he shouldn’t worry if he felt like it, Raph quickly said, “What about you, buddy? Why are you up?”

He had definitely been asleep when Raph had peeked in on him and Donnie earlier, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. Leo only seemed to sleep for a couple hours at a time. He always dragged his feet at bedtime, as though a good night’s rest was a concept that applied to other turtles, but not to him. If he didn’t share a room with his twin, it would probably be impossible to convince him to go to bed at all. Raph wasn’t looking forward to the contest of wills they’d probably have every single evening once Leo’s bedroom was finished.

‘Miss Toto says I’m a night owl,’ Leo had announced at breakfast during his first week at home when Pops asked him how he slept. ‘I don’t know what kind of turtle that is.’

Mikey giggled, and Donnie said, ‘It’s not a kind of turtle, it’s an idiom.’

Overly-offended, Leo squawked, ‘You can’t just call people idioms!’

The conversation got so silly from there that Pops forgot about asking in the first place. Leo was really good at making people forget they asked questions. But that just made Raph hold onto his questions really tight until he got an answer. Even if it didn’t really matter—he didn’t want Leo thinking he could get away with sneaking around it when it did matter.

His little brother’s eyes were big and dark in the blanket cave. Sure enough, he didn’t try to weasel out of answering.

“Sometimes I lived in places where I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I got used to it.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Raph asked, frowning.

“In one house it was really noisy,” Leo said easily enough. “The badger family that lived there was crepuscular. That meant they mostly were awake before the sun came out. Just a little bit of noise is enough to wake me up, so I started being crepuscular , too. Only kendo practice and all of my school classes were in the daytime, so it didn’t work out.”

To Raph, that sounded a lot like Leo wasn’t able to sleep at night and didn’t have time to sleep during the day. He can feel anger stirring deep in his heart, because it wasn’t fair. That badger family got to have Raph’s brother when he should have been here, and they didn’t even take care of him. How hard could it have been to give one little turtle a quiet place to rest? Pops found a quiet place for four of them in New York City.

He reached around Leo to lay a hand flat on his carapace. The scutes there were hard and smooth, unlike Donnie’s spiny, leathery shell and Raph’s rough spiky one. It was slightly flatter than Mikey’s domed shape, but otherwise entirely familiar. And it was second-nature to rub in slow up-and-down motions, because that’s just what you did with little turtle shells when the little turtles inside couldn’t sleep.

Leo blinked a couple times, all fast and surprised, as if he’d never had a shell-rub before in his life. Raph hoped that wasn’t true.

“Why are you up?” Leo asked, never one to be waylaid for long.

Fair was fair. Raph felt embarrassed about it, but since Leo had answered his question, he said truthfully, “I had a bad dream.”

He was maybe a little bit prepared for Leo to laugh or make fun or—something. But Leo said, “Sorry, Raphie. Bad dreams are the worst. Do you want to talk about it, or talk about something else?”

It sounded very practiced, like he had either said it a lot or heard it a lot before tonight. But it still loosened a tight little fist deep in Raph’s chest somewhere that was clutching really hard to worry.

Carefully, each word picking its tentative way out, Raphie described the dream he’d had the best he could. It had already faded from memory for the most part. The definite edges were gone and all that was left was the nightmare soup—the dark room and his pounding heart and the loneliness that was big enough to eat him whole if it wanted to.

“I dreamed I didn’t have anybody,” he mumbled out. “I was all alone. It felt like I’d be alone forever.”

“I had one like that before,” Leo said quietly. “I ran all the way to Snowy’s house to make sure he was there. He let me in through his window and we had a sleepover. Why didn’t you have a sleepover with Donnie or Mikey? You wouldn’t even get in trouble for leaving the house like I did since they’re just right down the hall.”

“I’m the biggest,” Raph said, the truth of his life that had always been and always would be. “I’m responsible for you bozos. I look after you three, not the other way around.”

He made sure Leo knew it wasn’t a bad thing, poking him playfully on the end of his beak until he scrunched it up. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was the best thing about being Raph.

“All by yourself?” Leo asked. “Everybody needs help. Even Jupiter Jim has a sidekick.”

Ever since his siblings had shown him those movies, Leo was a big fan. And it was hard to argue his logic, because Red Fox was a character they all loved beyond reason, and Raph would never dream of saying Jupiter Jim didn’t need her.

But it was different.

Raph knew that he could be bossy. He didn’t mean to be. Sometimes it took Donnie crossing his arms and baring his teeth to make Raph realize he’d been nagging. Sometimes he didn’t know until Mikey started shouting that Raph had been talking over him. He really didn’t mean to.

He just hated not knowing what was going to happen. Every accident and surprise—Donnie wandering out of his room for bandaids when his latest build managed to cut past his gloves, Mikey’s experimental stir fry setting off the smoke alarms, Pops juggling too many things at once and dropping something that shattered on the floor—made Raph feel sick. It made him feel unsafe.

“I just want to be careful,” Raph managed to force out. “That’s all. I don’t want anything bad to happen. I don’t want it to be my fault. I don’t want to mess up and let you guys down. I don’t wanna be—”

Alone.

Leo nodded solemnly, his cheek pressed against the pillow. Eyes all big and serious and older than the face they peered out of.

“You’re the best big brother I’ve ever met,” he said, sounding so certain that Raph was a second too slow to doubt him. “You care so much. You care enough for a hundred turtles. I didn’t know anybody could have a heart that big.”

Raph blinked, feeling fresh tears sting his eyes and slide down his face. Donnie would have frozen in distress, like the whole world stopped spinning when one of his siblings was hurting and Donnie stopped spinning right along with it. Mikey would have jumped in for a sticky octopus-style hug, because there was nothing broken that he couldn’t fix by wrapping his arms around it and holding on tight.

Leo didn’t freeze and he didn’t jump in. He landed somewhere in the middle of those extremes, shuffling closer and putting his problem-solving face on. He tugged on a corner of the sheets beneath them until enough of the blanket came up that he could use it to wipe Raph’s face free of tears. He did everything so earnestly, as if each tiny moment meant the world to him.

“But guess what?” he went on. “Everybody cares about you that much, too. I can’t even think of something you could do that would make us not want to see you every single day. If you were ever alone it’d only be ‘cause you got lost, and then we’d just burn the whole city down to find you again. We’d never leave you behind.”

Leo smiled, not the big shining one. This one was different, lopsided and sweet. Raph had only seen this smile of Leo’s a handful of times and it was already so important to him.

“You know that in your heart, I think,” Leo said. “You just get stuck in your head, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Raph whispered, feeling wobbly and see-through.

“It’s okay, Raphie. I can remind you. Just give half of what you’re worried about to me and we’ll share it. I’m on your team! I’m your sidekick! Nothing’s as scary when you have backup. As long as I’m here you don’t have to be scared of anything.”

Raph’s words got stuck in his throat. He had no idea what he might have said if they hadn’t. Instead he pulled Leo in snug against his plastron, safe beneath his arm. Lamby ended up smushed between them and her glow turned off. Leo wasn’t afraid of the dark, so it was for Raphie’s sake when he worked the stuffed animal free and squeezed the light in her middle back on.

Maybe Raph cared enough for a hundred turtles, but Leo was brave enough for a thousand. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

“Deal. And as long as I’m here,” Raph said, “you can sleep.”

“Raphie, I told you,” Leo complained. “I’m a night-owl-badger-turtle. Can I just play Professor Layton on your DS? I’ll be really quiet.”

But Raph knew all the tricks. He put his hand back on that slim shell and scritched idly along the blue-patterned scutes. Leo’s eyes drooped almost immediately, though his big frown was slower to fade. He was so small and so stubborn and Raphael loved him completely.

“Everything you wanna do tomorrow will still be there when you wake up,” he said, borrowing those words straight from Pops, as well as the fond tone he said them in. His own bad dream was the last thing on his mind. It was easy to smile and add on, “You can sleep. Raph’s not gonna let anyone bother you. I’m on your team, too.”

Leo didn’t reply right away. He leaned back enough to look up at Raph as though he was waiting for him to take it back. When he didn’t, because of course he didn’t, Leo curled his arm tighter around Lamby and tucked his head back under Raph’s chin and didn’t say anything at all.

Raphael imagined what it would have been like to grow up together—having Leo’s certainty and cleverness in his corner when Raph didn’t know what to do, Leo’s courage and silliness when Raph was scared, Leo’s smile that made the darkness shrink no matter how big and impossible it seemed to be at first.

Imagining it made Raph’s heart ache. He thought about the future instead, and how they’d live in it together forever, and keep each other safe and make each other brave.

When Leo finally dozed off, Raph was only a few minutes behind him. He didn’t have any more bad dreams.

——

Sometimes Mikey felt like he had to shout to be heard.

Raph and Donnie were his big brothers, and they were also his best friends and secret-keepers and partners-in-crime, but Mikey was their little brother first. He just wished that wasn’t the only thing he was.

Donnie liked Mikey’s company and never kicked him out of his room, but Mikey wasn’t allowed to touch anything in there, because Donnie didn’t know how to share. Raphie loved to carry Mikey when he got tired or the stormwater runoff in the tunnels was steep, but he didn’t seem to understand that sometimes Mikey didn’t want to be carried. He could walk just fine on his own! He could outrun all of his siblings, actually, without even breaking a sweat.

Michelangelo knew that he was loved—he had never wasted a single second wondering about that—and he loved his family so much that he could fill the sky with it the way the sun filled it with light in the summertime.

But he wasn’t listened to. It would be nice to just be listened to sometimes.

Today Mikey watched avidly as Leo showed off his cool sword. He had been folded into their afternoon martial arts training seamlessly, like he’d always been there. Dad assessed his skill-level and announced that he was not very far behind the rest of them at all, because he had been training in something he called kenjutsu ever since he was little.

“You are little, pipsqueak,” Raphie said playfully.

“Everyone’s a pipsqueak to you!” Leo retorted.

Splinter smiled proudly and said, “My Blue. You’ll be unstoppable one day, you know that?” Leo radiated joy at Dad’s approval and threw himself headlong into learning ninjutsu alongside his kendo, eager to do well. So he split his time, and in the last half Leo broke away from his brothers to the other side of the dojo, where he practiced the sword.

He hadn’t brought much with him when he moved in, but his bokken was his pride and joy. It was made of shiny red wood and the handle was wrapped in bright blue cord and there was a little white rabbit charm dangling from the guard.

“Last year Snowy’s big sister snuck up to the human world for a senior trip with her friends, and she brought us both souvenirs when she came back,” Leo had explained the charm happily. “Like hush money, only bunny-shaped! So way better.”

Dad snorted, and Leo seemed to grow two inches taller at having made him laugh.

Unlike everything else he owned, Leonardo didn’t offer the sword out to be held or touched. It wasn’t quite like the way Donnie guarded the things important to him, because Mikey didn’t think Leo would hiss at anybody for getting too close—Leo probably wouldn’t even get mad. But at seven whole years old, Mikey knew a thing or two about hurt feelings. If Leo wasn’t willing to snap at somebody for taking his stuff, Mikey would just have to do it for him.

An hour into training, Mikey was about to snap for a different reason.

“Mikey, you’re doing it wrong,” Raph said again. “You keep going too fast.”

“I know, ” Mikey said back through his teeth. He’d done it a billion times, he knew that. Raph didn’t need to keep saying it.

“If you know, then do it the right way,” his biggest brother replied, not giving an inch. “I know cartwheels are fun but we’re doing kata now. You can play later.”

Frustration boiled inside him. Mikey knew the right way to do the forms, but he was bored. He wanted to do it faster, he wanted to add a flip or a handstand, something to make it more interesting. He didn’t like training at all sometimes—Donnie was quiet and unenthusiastic, and Raphie was bossy and made them start over until they got it right. It was better when April was there, because April could quell the boringest and bossiest of brothers with a single sharp look and then take Mikey out for froyo, but their sister only joined in on the weekends.

Leo glanced sidelong at Splinter as he slowly began to lean his bokken up against the wall. When Dad didn’t stop him, he put the sword down quicker, then trotted over to fearlessly interject himself into the middle of the brewing storm. Donnie watched him go with round eyes, always one to remain adamantly on the outside of any confrontation.

“That was really cool, Mike,” Leo called out, beaming.

Mikey, who had been clenching his fists and preparing himself for another big brother to gang up on him, blinked.

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah, really! I can kind of do a handstand, but I can’t flip all around like that.” He thumped his knuckles on Raph’s carapace as he passed by, but his shining smile was all for Mikey. “Can you teach me?”

“Really?” Mikey said again, and then excitement swooped in before he could be confused for longer than a second. Bouncing on his toes, he exclaimed, “Of course, Lee! I can teach you right now!”

“I still have to learn this tricky ninja stuff first,” Leo said. “Can we do it after training instead?”

“Sure! I can help you with the kata, too, I’m really good at it,” Mikey said eagerly, falling into line beside him. He demonstrated the proper form carefully, so that his newest big brother could follow along. “Like that, see? You’ll get it! Try with me this time!”

He didn’t realize he was mimicking the same thing Raphael told him every time he fumbled in the dojo—his mind jumped straight to the first helpful thing he could say and that was it. He also didn’t catch the wink Leo sent at Raph over his head, or the way Raph’s shoulders loosened from where they had been bunched up by his ears, the way they always bunched up before a disagreement.

When Leo first came home, Aunt Junie had said that they all needed to be patient with each other and give Leo time to adjust. Like when Piebald’s tank water needed to be changed and they had to do it a little bit at a time, because even a whole bunch of good, fresh and clean water would be bad for her all at once.

Aunt Junie was right about everything, but maybe she just didn’t know Leo well enough yet. Maybe Leo wasn’t like Piebald at all, and jumping straight into a brand new tank was actually the best thing for him.

Because Leo seemed so happy to be there, always smiling and in a good mood. Teasing Donnie like he knew exactly where to poke to elicit playful snaps instead of vicious ones—talking Raph’s ear off about the Disney movies their big brother watched with him and singing along once he knew the words—forming inside jokes and super-complicated extended handshakes with April within minutes of meeting her—following gamely wherever Mikey tugged him along to like he couldn’t wait to be a part of the fun.

The immediate problem was that Donnie, Raph and April loved Leo just as much as Mikey did, and they all wanted to spend time with him, too. But they didn’t always want to spend that time doing the same things. That afternoon, it became an issue.

“Me and Leo always watch a movie after lunch,” Raphie was saying, brow knit stubbornly.

“Yeah, so let him do something else for a change,” April replied, poking Raph in the shoulder with the corner of her bedazzled phone case. “I told him about Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh and he wanted to read it. I downloaded the audiobook for us to listen to.”

“Can’t you do that later?”

“We’re building something,” Donnie bit out, impatient enough to speak up instead of just slinking away on his own.

For his part, Mikey tugged on Leo’s sleeve. “Leeeee, color with meeee.”

Leo didn’t say anything to any of them. He seemed to be frozen in place by all their noise.

Once, when Mikey was way littler than he was now, Dad found a baby bird that had been swept through a grate into the tunnel during a heavy rain. He let Mikey hold it after Mikey promised he’d be careful. They emailed a video of the bird to a wildlife rescue person they found online who said that it looked about three weeks old, and had probably only just left the nest when it hurt its wing. It was a quivering palm-sized ball of brown feathers and beady eyes. Mikey could feel its frantic heartbeat in his hands. It didn’t look big enough to have left its nest. It was hard to believe anything that small could just be on its own in the world.

Right now Leo reminded Mikey of that bird. His smile had faded to almost nothing, eyes round and worried under their bright red stripes. The longer the arguing went on around him the bigger and more worried his eyes got.

Then Dad said, “ Enough.”

He had his disappointed frown on as he strode in from the kitchen, sleeves still rolled up from washing the dishes in the sink. He didn’t miss a beat in lifting Leo up into his arms.

“What did your Aunt June tell you all?” Dad said sternly. He included April in his pointed look, even though Aunt Junie was mom to her. “If the four of you can learn to share pizza and video games without killing each other, surely you can learn to share your brother’s time.”

They all shuffled, feeling scolded, and April was the one who said, “Sorry, Leon.”

“It’s okay!” Leo said immediately, smiling brightly at her. But he was still clutching Dad’s shirt with both hands and wasn’t squirming to get down even a little bit. It made Mikey feel bad all the way to the bottom of his stomach.

“Why don’t you let Blue decide what he wants to do this afternoon?” Splinter suggested in that tone that made it obvious it wasn’t actually a suggestion.

“Yeah, Leo, you should pick!” Mikey said right away.

Leo hummed, looking much more like his normal self than he did a moment ago, but he still had one fist bunched in Splinter’s sleeve. Very, very carefully, like he was afraid it wasn’t the right thing to say, Leo offered, “Raphie, you said you’d show me how to skate. Can we?”

“Sure, big man, that sounds fun!” Raph said, all fast. He came over and put out his hands, and when Leo reached back, Splinter allowed the snapper to take him. Raph tossed Leo in the air and caught him again, surprising a squeaky noise out of him that became a giggle. The mood in the lair shifted back towards bright, like magic. “You’re gonna be skating circles around me in no time, Fearless.”

“I wanna watch!” Mikey shouted gleefully. And even though Donnie hated sports, he settled next to Mikey to watch, too, close enough that their shoulders bumped. When Mikey swayed playfully to the side, it made Donnie sway, too.

April rolled her eyes, like it was very typical of one of her little brothers to want to waste the afternoon skateboarding, but she insisted upon getting pictures of Leo all kitted out in borrowed helmet and knee- and elbow-pads, in poses that got sillier and sillier by the second.

The afternoon raced by like it had somewhere important to be, punctuated by the rolling and click-clacking of skateboard wheels on the wooden ramp. Leo learned to ollie and shuvit, picking up speed and gaining confidence as he went, but he also learned a lesson the rest of his siblings had learned years and years ago.

He learned to trust Raph’s hands to catch him. He learned not to be scared of falling because Raph would always catch him.

In no time at all, Leo’s laughter was bursting out of him in bright, ringing peals. It was easy to forget, just for a minute, that he hadn’t been right there with them all along.

Mikey felt like there was a sun inside him, he was so happy. He didn’t know what to do with all of it, where he could possibly hold it. So he did what he always did when he felt too much. He popped inside his shell.

From outside, there was an instant clatter and a thud, the fast-rolling sound of a loose skateboard shooting away, and April calling out, “Woah, Leo, are you—”

Then Mikey felt the familiar sensation of being picked up. His shell was compact and the perfect size for other little turtles to hold. Mikey felt warm and snug, and loved to be held, so he just curled up happily like a cat in a box.

Outside, he heard them talking.

“He didn’t mean to!” Leo said, so fast it was all a jumble of words bumping into themselves.

“Who didn’t—Mikey?” Raph said. “‘Course he did, he does that all the time.”

“No, he—he’s good, he doesn’t—” Leo sounded alarmingly like he was going to start crying—something Mikey hadn’t even known it was possible for him to do. “Please don’t let him get in trouble, he’s good. He’ll be good.”

“Of course he is good,” Splinter said, his voice coming closer from where he had been keeping an eye on them from the sofa. He sounded the way he did when Mikey or one of his brothers was sick, worry and love all twisted together. “All of my babies are good. Even when they are dissecting kitchen appliances or flooding the bathroom or sneaking the last donut out of the box that I had been saving, April.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” April said unconvincingly. “What’s a donut?”

“Mmm-hm. That crazy little citrus fruit you are holding is not in trouble, Baby Blue,” Splinter added.

“Why would he be in trouble?” Raph asked, sounding like something was hurting him.

“Sorry! I had different rules before,” Leo replied. The arms holding Mikey’s shell were tight, and he could hear the heart he was being held against racing, quick and frantic thump-thump-thumps. “I’m really sorry!”

“No one needs to be sorry,” Splinter told him gently. “No one has done anything wrong. And for future reference, in case you are confused, you will never be punished for hiding inside your shell. You are a turtle, and it is an important part of you. Would you scold a caterpillar for spinning a cocoon?”

“No,” Leo whispered.

“There you are.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and thick. Mikey wanted to come out and look around but he thought that if he interrupted the conversation they would start to talk about something else.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Leo finally said. “I was only there for a little bit, the house where they—so it wasn’t that bad.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Donnie said in a loud voice. He said it like ‘judge’ meant ‘monster who bites people until they die,’ even though Mikey was pretty sure it didn’t.

It surprised Mikey at first when Donnie started interjecting loudly at things, because he never used to do that. His jokes were always ones slid in under his breath, and his smile when they made Mikey laugh would be quick and sideways and half-hidden in the collar of his bulky hoodie.

Now he didn’t hide near as much as he used to, and was a lot less secretive about things he wanted his brothers to hear. Mikey thought that maybe he had wanted to be close to them all along, he just didn’t know how to get there. There wasn’t a bridge between where they were at and the island he ended up on. Then his twin came along.

Aunt Junie called Leo an instigator. She said it laughingly, and told him he was just what this family needed. She was, after all, right about everything.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Splinter said. He came closer, and Mikey’s stomach swooped as he was lifted up higher from the floor than he already was—Dad must have picked Leo up again, and Leo was still holding Mikey. “Come here, my little turtles. Ah-ah, you are not getting out of this, O’Neil. In fact, you must hug twice as hard so that your mother is here in spirit.”

Silliness was the best medicine. No gloomy mood could outlast six people cramming together for a big group hug. Raph tripped on the skateboard and almost toppled everyone over and the sudden lurch made Leo giggle. Mikey came out of his shell to join the embrace, managing to get one arm around Leo and the other around Donnie and squeezing for all he was worth.

Mikey and his brothers kept close to each other even after Splinter left to take April home. A pillow fort was constructed in the TV room and they turtle-piled in there with all the best blankets and stuffed animals and snacks. Leo was quieter than usual and sat tucked against Donnie’s side, like he was absorbing his twin’s strength and stubbornness since his own had run out.

“Hey, Leo?” Mikey asked, when the movie Bolt was over and Raph was snoring and Donnie was a tiny ball tucked under the snapper’s sprawled arm. Mikey knew that Leo would still be awake.

Sure enough, Leo said, “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you cry when you’re sad?”

For a little while, the only sound besides Raph’s honking snores was the song playing on TV as the credits rolled. I made a wish upon a star, I turned around, and there you were, the song went.

“People don’t like kids who cry,” Leo finally said. “No one will want me if I don’t behave.”

Mikey blinked, turning his head to find Leo’s face in the dark. His heart was twisting around unhappily in his chest. It hurt.

“Raph cries all the time but we still want him,” Mikey said. “He’s Raph.”

“Yeah, of course,” Leo said quickly.

“And I cry, too,” Mikey added, the hurt moving up into his throat. “People want me.”

“Because you’re the best, Angie,” Leo told him. “You guys are the best.”

“Whoever told you that stuff before lied,” Mikey said, clinging to his hand. “They lied. You’re my Leo, and you belong here, and we want you. Don’t ever leave us no matter what. Okay?”

Leo nodded, short and punchy. He was shivering like he was cold. Mikey scooted over so he could curl into Leo’s side, because he was a lot of things, but he was a little brother first. And sometimes—when that meant that he was always welcome, and arms would always open for him, and he could snuggle in and be held tight no matter what—that was the best first thing to be.

“Promise?” he checked.

Leo turned his face, so he could press his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and whispered, “Promise.”

The thing Mikey remembered the most vividly about that injured bird they once found was how restless it had been. How ready to fly it was. All it needed was room to get better and grow a little more. A safe place to land.

‘Look at this guy,’ Dad had said the morning they released it, smiling at the eager noises happening in the shoebox in his hands, ‘ready to leave us in the dust.’

‘Will he come back?’ Raphie asked.

‘I don’t think so, my dear. This isn’t his home.’

It was Leo’s home, though. His place to come back to. They just had to keep showing him that they’d catch him. It wasn’t scary to fall down here, because someone would always catch him.

——

A true photographic memory had never been proven, but Donatello was a scientific marvel in more ways than just the obvious. He remembered everything he had ever seen. The farther back his memories went the less clarity they retained, until they were mostly just emotion given body and movement—but they still were.

When Donnie, Mikey and Raphie found the shrine in Papa’s room, and Papa sat them all down to explain that they used to have another brother, who couldn’t be with them anymore, Donnie suddenly remembered a steady weight on his shell. He remembered not being able to settle for bed unless the weight was there, clicking and purring until they both drifted off to sleep.

Oh, he thought, we’re orphans.

The thought didn’t make sense, because Donnie knew what the definition of orphan was, and their parent hadn’t died. He had never abandoned them. He was, at that moment, gently wiping tears off Raphie’s face and trying to come up with answers for Mikey’s endless questions that didn’t all boil down to life is unfair.

But it was the only word that felt weighty enough for the truth of it all.

Donnie was a brother who had lost a brother. A twin who wasn’t a twin anymore. There wasn’t a word for that. He looked it up.

And then, when Donnie was eight years old, he didn’t need a word for it anymore.

When he had imagined Leonardo growing up, he imagined someone who was just like him in every way. Someone who understood him effortlessly because they were two halves of a whole. Ten minutes after meeting him again, Donatello felt silly about his initial hypothesis.

Of course his twin would be his polar opposite—they filled in each other’s empty spaces. Leonardo, who was friendly and talkative, spoke up when Donnie’s voice failed him; Donatello, who was observant and defiant, had no trouble baring his teeth at every hurt that Leonardo would have let roll off his back.

Leonardo lied with every inch of his body and he did it cheerfully; Donnie would always default to the truth even if a lie would have been kinder. Donnie wanted so badly to be close to his brothers but didn’t always know how to get there, a closed door standing between them that he didn’t have a key to; Leonardo had never met a locked door he couldn’t circumvent and pointed out a neat shortcut here, a handy window there.

Leo took Donnie’s hand and led the way forward; Donnie held on tight and made sure Leo didn’t stumble, since he was always looking up and never down.

They found each other in the middle. Maybe if they’d had that middle place all along, Donnie would be able to communicate better, and Leo wouldn’t need to pretend so much. Maybe that’s still the way things would be one day. Donnie imagined a drawing of them, purple leaking past his lines and blue leaking out of Leo, like Mikey’s watercolors mixing on the page, spreading until they filled every gap, completing the picture.

All four turtles were in the dojo, doing cool-down stretches. Mikey had skipped the post-exercise routine and moved on to rolling around on his carapace instead, singing Fireflies to himself with twice as much energy as Owl City. Raph just rolled his eyes and made sure to step around and over his littlest brother as he cleaned up.

Splinter, who had been checking his phone repeatedly all afternoon, stood up swiftly and said, “You boys stay here and finish up. I think we’ll order in for supper today, so agree on something or I will order the worst soup you can think of. ”

Mikey stopped rolling and sat up with a horrified gasp, because he had opinions about soup.

“Manhattan Clam Chowder!”

Ignoring that, Splinter said, “I will be right back.”

Donnie watched Leo watch him go, and knew that his twin’s mind was racing even though his breezy smile hadn’t budged an inch. Leo worried constantly, maybe even more than Raphie did. He was always buzzing with what-ifs, like his brain was a jar filled with angry bees—what if he did something wrong? What if he made someone mad? What if he was too noisy, took too much at supper, didn’t help enough with chores, what if, what if, what if?

Donnie knew, because sometimes Leo told him. After bedtime, when they had to whisper so Splinter’s keen ears wouldn’t catch them staying up late, sometimes Leo would ask, “Did I mess up today?”

And Donnie would have to jerk his thoughts onto this new track—this crooked, narrow road that Leo was always running on, with its confusing roundabouts and bridges to nowhere and unpayable tolls.

He wanted to say that Leo could mess up a billion times and still never reach the end of Donnie’s love. Like how the unobservable universe was so big that light from the Big Bang still hadn’t reached Earth from over there. It was as big as that.

But Donnie struggled with words even when they weren’t monumentally important ones. And Leo’s face would look so afraid in the dim light of the glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling, those constellations in Leo’s new room that matched the ones in Donnie’s down to the last star. He would be convinced that this was the day he did something bad enough that Papa sent him away. It didn’t matter that that would never happen, because even impossible things could be scary.

So instead of what he wanted to say, Donnie would tell him, “You were good.”

It would always make his brother smile and sink into the pillow, like all that worry was the only thing propping him up. Then they would talk about a hundred other things until they forgot to whisper, and Papa or Raph inevitably found them out and carted a giggling Leo or an unrepentant Donnie off to his own room.

One day, Donnie was determined to make it stick. Even if Leonardo was the worst person in the whole world, he would still be Donatello’s person. That made him the best. It was unquantifiable. No one was a better subject matter expert than Donnie was. He’d stake the scientific reputation he didn’t have yet on it in a heartbeat.

For now, he nudged Leo’s knee with his foot.

“Hey,” Donnie said, “let’s be ninjas.”

Leo’s smile turned into the grin that Donnie preferred, the crooked laughing one. He only cared about good behavior when he thought he was being graded on it. Otherwise he was the first to encourage sneakiness, because if there was one thing Leonardo believed in, it was having all the information available all the time.

Donnie knew that was how Leo kept himself safe in those other places he lived in before he came home, those places he didn’t like to talk about. The ones that taught him not to cry when he was sad and not to hide in his shell when he was scared.

If there was one thing Donatello believed in, it was that Leo should feel safe, even if that meant breaking a rule or two or a hundred.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” Raphie said suspiciously before they’d made it more than two steps. “Pops said to stay here.”

“Or else we’ll get gross soup,” Mikey piped up. “Instead of really good soup, like creamy chicken chili. Or minestrone!”

“Angie, it’s too hot outside for soup,” Leo said patiently, verbally dodge-rolling Raph’s question by humoring Mikey. “If we ordered a bunch of soup the delivery person would cry. You don’t want taco salad in a tortilla bowl? Or an Italian hero with extra pickled cherry peppers?”

Reminded of the whole wide world of food delivery possibilities, Mikey started rattling off all of his favorite meals without pausing for inconsequential things like air. Raph sighed, because it instantly became twenty times harder to agree on supper. Leo beamed up at him, like he didn’t just do that on purpose.

Donnie knew an opening when he saw one and slipped out of the dojo first, following the sound of Splinter’s voice to the front of the lair.

“...haven’t told him you were coming. I did not want to give him a reason to be anxious all day,” Papa was saying, sounding anxious himself. “He’s so prone to worry, it just eats him up. I thought once you arrived, I would go back in and let him know you were here, and we’d—get it rolling fast, get him all swept up, so he didn’t have a chance to be afraid.”

“Dad knows best,” an unfamiliar voice said kindly.

It made Donnie’s spine go straight, all of his attention sharpening to a point at this sudden proof of a stranger in his home talking about his twin. He inched forward on silent feet to peer around the corner.

A big creature stood with Splinter, a few inches taller than him and covered from nose to tail in large overlapping scales. She had a curved spine that created a hunched-forward posture and a long narrow head similar to an anteater’s. With the big tote bag hanging off her arm and the green sundress she was wearing, she looked like an animal librarian straight out of one of Mikey’s chapter books.

She didn’t seem dangerous. But Donatello watched her with narrowed eyes and wished he hadn’t left his bo behind in the dojo.

“As for moving,” Splinter was saying, “I am still uncertain. My boys would be able to—to go to school, and make friends, and play in the sun. That would mean the world to me. But the house in Neo Edo needs a lot of work, and the Hidden Cities are dangerous, too. For a multitude of reasons.”

“And you have family here in New York, as well,” the stranger said, her tone understanding. “It is a lot to consider. You haven’t brought up the possibility to the children yet?”

“I haven’t. Blue’s life has been in upheaval enough as it is. I wanted him to have more of a chance to get settled. Besides, it is not a decision that needs to be made right away. We can discuss it as a family and decide together.”

“Of course, Hamato-san,” the stranger said warmly. “These follow-up assessments are mandatory, and, I’ll admit, an excuse for me to visit with my little ones again. But there isn’t a doubt in my mind that you’re doing right by him.”

Donnie let go of his suspicion just long enough to wonder about the possibility of moving away from New York City. He wouldn’t want to be apart from April and Aunt June for any extra amount of time. But it sounded like he would be able to go to school in that Neo Edo place and he would like that a lot.

“Here I am,” Leo’s voice said in a whisper as he stepped up beside Donnie. He was holding his bokken across his shoulder, probably because he wouldn’t have had a chance to store it properly and come listen in on Papa’s conversation without Raphie catching him again. “What’d I miss?”

But he was already looking around the corner for himself, and that smiling expression he was wearing changed in a heartbeat to something pale and shocked. His arms fell to his sides.

“Miss Toto? Why is she here?”

His voice was too loud. Both adults glanced over at where Donnie and Leo were standing, and Donnie felt caught. But Leo took a couple quick steps closer, dragging his sword behind him like he didn’t care at all that the shiny finish might get scuffed on the concrete.

Papa looked pale himself somehow. “Blue—”

“Am I going back?” Leo said, getting louder. “Are you giving me back? Why? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” the stranger said, hands clutched tight in front of her chest. Her eyes were wide. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“No, you said!” Leo shouted at Splinter. “You said, you said you wouldn’t, you said I could stay, you said I was good! I was good, I was! I did everything I’m supposed to!”

“Baby, I would never send you away, ” Splinter said, arms open to scoop him up, but Leo stumbled backwards out of reach. Leo couldn’t hear him or anybody else, heaving in frantic gulping breaths.

The sword in his hand started to glow, as if a light had turned on inside it and was shining through patterns carved up and down its length, even though the whole thing was solid wood and didn’t have any carvings a light could shine out of. The shine got brighter and bluer until Donnie had to squeeze his eyes closed against the glare.

When he opened them again Leo was gone, but the light was left right where he’d been standing—a perfect circle cut out of thin air, the color of the sky in summertime. It was humming, the way things with an electrical charge hummed, and spinning as playfully as a pinwheel.

“Oh, my spirits,” Miss Toto breathed.

“Did he just,” Splinter croaked out.

Of course, Donnie thought, finally solving that big puzzle in the back of his mind.

Donatello was the first of Leo’s siblings to notice the healed burns on his hands, if the others had noticed them at all. Faint discolorations, smoother than the rest of his textured skin. They didn’t seem to hurt anymore but Donnie worried about them anyway.

He had gone straight to Splinter with his observations, hovering at the other side of the kitchen table waiting to be acknowledged; but Splinter had been too engrossed in the contents of a folder to notice the round eyes level with the tabletop staring unblinkingly at him, like a fox stalking a bird.

‘Papa,’ he said. Splinter jolted in his seat, slopping tea over the rim of his mug.

‘Holy—Purple! You will give me a heart attack one day, and then who will feed you?’ He closed the folder and turned his chair, and Donnie trotted around to his side. ‘What’s up, buttercup?’

‘Leo burned his hands,’ Donnie said.

Splinter’s face did something funny, and he asked quickly, ‘Did he hurt himself just now?’

‘No. They were there already. How?’

‘Ah. How did it happen?’ he clarified. Donnie nodded, and Splinter weighed his words for a moment before he said, ‘A few days before he came to live with us, the house where Blue took his kendo lessons caught on fire. But someone rescued him—plucked him and his friend right out of danger and left them safe in a basket of clean blankets. We are all very lucky.’

Donnie had shivered, and bonked his forehead against Splinter’s arm so his father knew to wrap him up in a tight hug until the shivering stopped. He didn’t want to think about Leo trapped in a fire, so instead he thought about the person who had rescued him.

‘Who?’ he asked when he could manage it.

‘Who saved them? No one seems to know,’ Splinter said. ‘The boys only remembered a blue light.’

Leo saved himself, Donatello realized now. He always saved himself. It was the only thing that made sense. The proof was right in front of them, burning like a star in the living room.

But now the edges of the circle were wobbling, and then compressing, the whole thing beginning to shrink. A door closing, with his twin on the other side.

Donatello didn’t need to think about it. He heard a cut-off gasp from the scaly anteater, and Papa yelled “Purple!” but he was already running. He ducked his head to clear the top arc and hopped over the bottom, disappearing neatly through the blue seconds before it dwindled into nothing.

In just one step, he had gone from the lair under New York to a big open countryside. He’d never seen so much greenery in his life. It was cooler here, and quieter—even with the rush of the river nearby, it was easily half the average decibel level of Manhattan. He could smell fish and sesame oil and salt, a hint of smoke, damp wood—town must have been behind him. Ahead of him, the footpath he was standing on winded away toward the water.

Donnie headed forward. There was a big house up the hill to his left and he could hear other children there. But the door hadn’t taken him to the house. It had led him here, trudging through mud and weeds along the bank, until he rounded the bend and found exactly who he was looking for.

On the opposite shore, Leo was hiding under a rocky outcrop, where the stones of a towering cliffside formed a secret alcove. Sunken boulders in the water created a natural ford where Donnie could cross and he plunged right in.

Leo must have heard him coming, but he stayed curled up small. He was crying so hard his face was red and his eyes were squeezed shut, which made Donnie’s eyes sting, too. He hated when his siblings cried. He hated not knowing how to fix it. One day he’d invent a solution for everything that hurt them.

Until then, he’d crawl into this muddy hole, and scratch his knees and palms on the rocks, and put his arms around his twin. It was the right thing to do because it was what Raphie and Mikey would do. It made Leo cry even harder, and that hurt Donnie’s heart more than anything else in his whole life ever had, but he just held on tight. He’d be one of those stones that the river crashed against. Nothing would move him until he decided to move.

When Leo quieted into hiccups and wet-sounding sniffles, Donnie thought it was safe enough to let go of him with one hand. He used the other to wipe Leo’s puffy face with the balled-up end of his purple sleeve.

“Don’t leave again,” Donnie said. “You promised Mikey.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo choked out. “But they—”

“That anteater wasn’t there to take you away,” Donnie told him matter-of-factly. “Otherwise Papa would have caused a scene. She was just there to visit. It sounds like we have a house around here somewhere, and Papa is thinking about moving. But he hasn’t decided yet. If we did move, you’d come, too.”

Leo pulled back to stare at him, all dirty and wet and miserable. After a moment, he mumbled, “Miss Toto is a pangolin. Anteaters don’t have scales. You’re dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” Donnie replied, heart lifting like a balloon at Leo sounding more like Leo. “Papa will never let anyone take you away. You don’t have to be good all the time.” His twin’s eyes fell down to look at the muddy stones between them. He didn’t say anything, but Donnie could tell he didn’t believe it yet. So Donnie presented the facts: “Raph is bossy and acts like he’s right even when he’s wrong. Mikey never does what he’s supposed to and makes huge messes with his paints and cries when he gets in trouble. And I’m mean. And I bite. But Papa loves us, even when he says we make him want to tear his hair out. And he loves you.”

“How do you know?” Leo asked, like he’d like to be convinced, but he was still clutching at his old truths instead of this new one.

“Because I know everything,” Donnie told him plainly. “I’m smarter than you and the older twin so you have to listen to me.”

Leo made a quiet noise somewhere between crying and laughing. His eyes were gold like Donnie’s. Would that ever stop being amazing? Probably not. Here was Donnie’s other half, the most important part of his heart, back where he belonged. He really was dumb if he thought Donnie was ever going to lose him again.

They walked hand in hand to the house on the hill, which turned out to be the orphanage where Leo used to live. A few of the kids in the yard gave them strange looks, but Leo didn’t stop to say hi to any of them, which told Donnie everything he needed to know.

A boy with amphibian features stepped right in their way. He had big protruding eyes and webbed hands and a round, flat head. His mouth stretched from ear to ear when he opened it to call out, “Back already, Lucky?”

It caused a twitch to pass through Leo’s whole body, not a flinch but not not a flinch, either. He smiled back automatically, and Donnie knew he was about to play along with whatever mean joke was being played on him, because Leo was smart and always knew what the quickest way out of a bad place was.

But Donnie was smart, too. And he didn’t care about getting out as much as he cared about getting results.

He stopped in his tracks and twisted his head around on his neck in the way that always freaked April out. She said it made him look like an alien from a horror movie, so naturally Donnie practiced it in the mirror a bunch of times.

He’d never had the chance to use it on anyone else until now. He was pleased with the way it made everyone in the yard stand really still.

“You know turtles eat frogs, right?” Donnie said. “I heard they taste good with ginger and scallions.”

Heard from his baby brother who had an unhealthy obsession with the Food Network, anyway.

The frog boy shut right up, his throat ballooning defensively—prey instinct to make himself a more difficult meal.

“It was nice to see you guys,” Leo said brightly to the terrorized crowd of his former foster siblings, circling behind Donnie and pushing him bodily into the house. Once the door was closed behind them, he added, “They all think you’re an oni now! It was just a nickname, Tello.”

“Good,” Donnie said, smug. “And it’s not just a nickname if you hate it, Nardo.”

Leo took his hand again and led him down the hall. There was a landline phone in the matron’s office that they could use to call Papa. It seemed like a majority of the kids were out of the house, making the most of the sunny day, because they didn’t run into anyone else.

“It’s ‘cause I’m bad luck,” Leo said suddenly. “Turtles—you know, in the stories—they’re good. Since I kept coming back to the orphanage, the older kids started saying it’s ‘cause my luck got messed up. That’s why they call me that.”

“You’re not bad luck,” Donnie said, wishing he’d taken a good bite out of that frog kid after all. “You’re the luckiest thing that ever happened to me and Mikey and Raph and April and Papa and Aunt June. That’s a lot of luck for one turtle and you saved all of it for us. But if you don’t like that name I won’t let anyone call you that anymore.”

Leo hesitated long enough that Donnie knew he was about to do something very brave, like tell the truth, even though a lie would be safer.

Sure enough, he said, “I don’t like it.”

Donnie nodded. He’d make sure their brothers and sister knew, too.

The door slammed open again behind them. Donnie turned around, ready to pick another fight with another stupid bully and maybe show off his sharp canines this time, but the kid who appeared in the hallway wasn’t one of the ones they’d passed by in the yard.

It was a white rabbit with long ears tied in a topknot. He had a bokken strapped to his back, glossy black where Leo’s was cherry red, handle wrapped in gray cord instead of blue. The rabbit was completely out of breath, bracing himself with a hand against the wall while his shoulders heaved, and he stared straight at Donnie’s brother like Leo would disappear into thin air if he so much as blinked.

“I saw the blue light and ran all the way here,” he huffed. “Give me your hand.”

Donnie bristled at this stranger telling his twin what to do, but Leo’s face was pure sunshine. He shoved his hand out immediately and the rabbit took it, neither of them bothering with so much as a hello. Uncapping a marker with his teeth, the rabbit scrawled something on the inside of Leo’s palm.

“This is my new phone number,” he said, not letting go of Leo’s hand even when he was done writing and the marker was put away. “When you didn’t call at our usual time, Auntie asked if you even knew her number, and I realized you only had the number for our house that burned down. And when I called here, Miss Toto said I’d just missed you. And Suzy said you got adopted for real and went to live in New York and weren’t coming back.”

His eyes were big and wet and his mouth was wobbling, but he stubbornly wasn’t crying. From this close, Donnie could see the charm dangling from the guard of his wooden sword—a little blue turtle.

“Don’t ever disappear again, Stripes,” the rabbit said. “We promised to stick together forever.”

“Forever, Snowy,” Leo told him, in his voice that meant he meant it. “I always come back.”

It wasn’t until Donatello and the rabbit were sitting in the den, watching two tiny sheep yokai kill each other for their turn on an ancient Nintendo 64 while Leo used the corded landline in the office, that introductions were made.

“Who are you?” Donnie demanded bluntly. He’d heard enough about ‘Snowy’ that he could probably write the guy’s biography if he had to, but somehow Leo had never mentioned his best friend’s actual name.

“Usagi Yuichi,” the rabbit replied. He hesitated, sizing Donatello up, then asked, “Are you his family? His actual one?”

“I’m his twin,” Donnie said, feeling prickly and overprotective. He’d only had Leo for thirty-two days and he would defend his spot in Leo’s life with violence if the situation called for it. “He has a big brother and a little brother at home, too. He doesn’t need any more than that.” So there, he thought.

To his credit, Yuichi got the gist of Donnie’s bottom line quickly. Instead of any of the reactions Donnie was waiting for, Yuichi wrinkled his nose.

“Yuck, I don’t want to be his brother. I’m going to marry him someday.”

Donnie considered that carefully, and decided it was acceptable. They shook on it then quickly jumped apart when Leo wandered back into the room. He collapsed on the sofa between them with a gusty sigh.

“I think we’re grounded,” he said. “But everyone was shouting too much for me to be sure. They’re coming to get us now. Splinter said stay in this exact spot and wait for him or he’ll have a conniption. What’s a conniption?”

“It means he’ll cry a lot,” Donnie replied.

“I don’t know how to get to New York,” Yuichi piped up, frowning. “Nee-chan says it’s really big, too. How am I supposed to visit?”

Leo slid his bokken from his belt and laid it across his lap. There wasn’t a single etching or carving on it anywhere, the glossy lacquered finish completely unbroken. If Donnie hadn’t seen those strange glowing runes for himself earlier, he’d have a hard time believing in them now.

“When I really need to go somewhere, a door opens,” Leo said. “It happened when your house burned up, Snow. We were trapped inside but I got us out. I’ve never done it on purpose before but I think I could. Maybe.”

“Not by yourself,” Donnie said immediately. He didn’t want Leo to get the wrong idea that his family would let him go traipsing off through magic windows all alone. “Or Papa really will have a conniption.”

Leo smiled down at his hands, that crooked, happy smile. He didn’t say anything, which Donnie knew meant he still didn’t believe it all the way yet, but he would someday. He was too smart not to.

When Splinter arrived nearly two hours later, Donnie didn’t notice him at first. He and Leo were busy conducting experiments, since they had a magical sword on hand and some time to kill. They had collected a bit of a crowd at that point, Leo’s actual friends clustered around him—including a tiny otter who made it abundantly clear why Leo was a professional Mikey-wrangler within seconds of meeting the kid—as he tried to make his bokken glow again.

“It’s not gonna work,” Niji said with absolute authority. Her scales were teal for now and she kept hitting Leo’s foot with her tail to be annoying on purpose. “Or it would’ve worked already.”

“Google how many tries it took to invent the lightbulb and get back to me,” Donnie replied without looking up, scribbling notes on the back of an algebra worksheet he stole from a bookbag lying on the floor nearby. The lizard girl hissed at him and he hissed right back.

“Your brother’s mean,” the tiny otter dangling over Leo’s shoulders said with obvious delight. “He made Midori cry.”

Midori was, of course, the frog yokai that Donnie had threatened to eat. Word got around quickly it seemed—half the room was keeping a healthy distance from the turtles. Donnie tried not to look smug about it, but he didn’t try very hard.

“He’s nice to me,” Leo said, squinting in concentration. “I think he only makes bullies cry.”

“Doesn’t Midori make fun of you, Renren?” Yuichi asked, poking the otter’s diamond-shaped nose.

“Yup!” Ren wriggled happily, getting in everyone’s way, obnoxious and noisy and loved for it. “That’s why Koko’s brother is mean and cool. Next time Midori tries to call me a name, I’ll show him the picture Suzy took of his face all puffed up like a balloon!”

“I shouldn’t encourage this,” the Suzy in question, a fluffy owl named Susumu, said primly. “But Midori is such a jerk. I made like twenty copies of the photo in case Miss Toto finds out.”

“Then I expect to find twenty copies on my desk before bedtime, young lady,” Miss Toto announced firmly, and a ripple of chaos spread through the room as a dozen kids realized their guardian had come home without warning. Even some of the ones who weren’t actually doing something wrong scattered with the ones who should have been working on chores or homework.

That’s when Donnie realized Splinter was standing in the doorway, looking like he’d just been watching over them for a little while.

He waved and said, “Hi, Papa. I found Leo.”

“Don’t you wave at me,” Splinter snapped. “You are in so much trouble, mister. Jumping face-first into a portal! Who raised you?”

“Is that a trick question? I don’t like those.”

Leo shrugged Ren off his shoulders and stood up fast, shoving both his sword and the otter into Yuichi’s arms. When he faced Splinter, he looked like he wanted to hide inside his shell and live there forever, but he only hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin instead.

“It was my fault,” he managed to say. “I yelled at you and ran away and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be—”

But by then, Splinter had crossed the room in a few swift strides, and scooped Leo up into his arms the way he’d wanted to back in the lair, and Leo was too startled to speak.

“You can’t just disappear like that, Blue!” Splinter chided fiercely. “Red and Orange are frantic, June keeps forgetting herself and trying to call the police, April just about stormed the Hidden Cities on her own, and I was ready to sell my soul to the nearest witch for another finding spell! It is a whole mess back home!”

He rubbed his furry cheek on the top of Leo’s head and closed his eyes. It was the closest Donatello had ever seen his father get to tears and it made him feel uneasy. Donnie shoved his notes into Yuichi’s already-full hands and scrambled over to tug at the front of Splinter’s jacket. He was lifted up immediately and Splinter held them both.

“You are my precious treasures, and I had no idea where you were. Do you have any idea how frightened I was?” Splinter said.

Donnie watched Leo’s face wobble and scrunch up miserably as he struggled not to cry again. His twin was the only person he’d ever met as stubborn as him.

“Sorry,” Leo mumbled, “sorry, I’m sorry.”

Papa’s next breath shuddered out of him. He squeezed them extra tight, and kissed each of their foreheads, and then said, “It’s okay. It’s okay now. We are all going to go home, and have a long talk after this, but it is okay .” He looked right at Leo until Leo nodded slowly. Then he added, “But you’re both grounded until you’re at least thirty! You are never leaving my sight again! If you think I’m joking, you have another thing coming!”

It was his silly-scolding voice, and it soothed the last of Donnie’s worries. Leo’s worries weren’t gotten rid of so easily, but somehow he managed to have more hope inside him than fear.

So he was brave enough to lay his head on Splinter’s shoulder and say, “Okay, Papa.”

That surprised Papa so much he nearly fell over. The tiny yokai children in his path squawked in alarm, and Donatello laughed because the suddenness of the almost-fall made his stomach swoop.

A moment later, just a second behind, Leonardo laughed, too.

——

When Leonardo was fourteen years old, he split his time between the yokai world and the human world almost evenly.

Neo Edo was where their ancestral house was and where they went to school. It was where they had nosey neighbors and block parties and parents night at the junior high, where people recognized Leonardo and his brothers at a glance and collectively referred to them as ‘Yoshi’s boys’.

But there was a part of Leonardo’s heart that belonged to New York City. His portals to the lair always opened up easily, even eagerly, giving the truth of the thing away to anyone who knew what to look for.

It was home. The first one Leonardo had ever had that he could believe was his to keep.

“Blue,” Splinter called from the doorway of the living room, pausing on his way through to the kitchen, “what are you doing?”

Leo, more out of boredom than anything else, was poking Raph in the face while he tried valiantly to read the last chapter of his book, and then looking innocently away every time his big brother leveled a glare at him.

“Nothing, daddy,” Leo called back in his sweetest voice.

“Orange, what is Blue doing?” Splinter tried next.

“Invoking the Cain Instinct,” Mikey answered without lifting his eyes from his canvas, three days in on his latest painting and fully in that headspace where time and space didn’t exist and he would only eat if someone physically put a sandwich or something in his free hand. That didn’t stop him from knowing exactly what his brothers were up to at any given point.

“For what purpose?” Splinter asked.

“Dee went to pick up April from work and the twins are like ninety percent of each other’s impulse control,” Mikey said. “Also Lee is just like that as a person.”

“That’s true,” Splinter conceded, and stayed to watch the show.

When Raph finally slammed his book down it was Leo’s cue to gleefully scramble to his feet and run for his life. He shrieked with laughter when he was caught and scooped right off the floor in seconds.

Raph’s act of revenge was aggressively nuzzling the top of Leo’s head with his cheek, rumbling playful turtle sounds at him that wouldn’t have convinced a single living person that he was actually angry.

Leo could have hidden in his shell if he wanted to—and no one would yell at him for it, or threaten to crack it open to get him back out, or do anything more than carry it as carefully as they carried Mikey’s until they found a comfy place to put it down—but he didn’t want to.

Ever since he was a little kid who first crawled under his big brother’s blanket after a nightmare, who first learned to skate while holding onto his big brother’s hands, he knew where he was safe.

“Is that the sound of Nardo making someone’s life more difficult than it needs to be?” Donnie’s voice rolled drolly from the entrance of the lair. “Note my tone of utter disbelief.”

Leo squirmed around in Raph’s arms until he could free one hand and make a grabby motion toward the sound of his twin. Even if he couldn’t see him, he could smell him, and Donnie had definitely come home with Starbucks.

“I’m rolling my eyes,” Donnie said, but he crossed the room and put an iced coffee in Leo’s waiting hand anyway.

“Boys, I got the keys to the roof!” April hollered from the turnstiles. “It’s go-time, baby!”

“What roof?” Splinter asked suspiciously.

“One that I’m definitely allowed to be at and have keys for,” his honorary daughter replied, lifting her chin. Not even the FBI would be able to crack her.

Raph set Leo on his feet, then swiped his cup away and took an annoying slurp before Leo managed to snatch it back.

“You don’t even like coffee!” he complained.

“Big brother tax,” Raph replied unrepentantly, making his way over to begin the perilous undertaking of extracting Mikey from his creative process without losing a finger.

“Try not to end up on the news,” Splinter said, knowing when to pick his battles. “April, you are in charge. Red, you are also in charge. Blue, you are in charge in a third and different way.”

“Can I be in charge of Donnie?” Mikey asked, raising a paint-smeared hand.

“Of course you can, Orange,” their dad said.

“I’m running away,” Donnie announced to the lair as a whole.

The familiar noise washed over Leo like sunshine. He totally understood why regular turtles could bask in that stuff for hours. He sipped his latte and drew a gleaming silver katana from over his shoulder, an ancient bunny charm dangling from its bright blue guard.

Leo smiled up at Splinter as he passed him in the doorway, never missing an opportunity to duck in for a hug. His dad always tucked him under his chin and held him tight, as if he was still that little eight-year-old boy terrified to death of being abandoned.

“Have fun, my Baby Blue,” Splinter said. “And if you don’t come home with a cheesecake for your poor father, don’t bother coming home at all.”

Leo snorted and started to laugh, and by then Mikey had had enough lingering around, whining at the top of his lungs, “Come on, Lee, let’s go already! It’s Cannonball Day!”

“Yeah, Fearless, lead the way,” Raph rumbled fondly.

Donnie stood there watching him with steady gold eyes exactly like his own, and said, “We’re all waiting for you.”

Leo grew up in an orphanage, an unwanted bad omen, and now he had two houses and two hometowns. He was one of four brothers and he loved them with a conviction that he hadn’t known existed outside of storybooks when he was a child. He had a shortcut home from anywhere and a family who would fight god to keep him.

Hamato Leonardo—who was called Koko by his old friends, and Stripes by his best friend, and would always be Blue to his dad—was a very lucky turtle.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #disaster twins #hamato leonardo #lou jitsu #hamato donatello #hamato michelangelo #hamato raphael #portal duo #a team #ratdad #my writing #tmnt fic #acewithapaintbrush #orphan leo au

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

- I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.

- Or maybe I’m just really daft.

- I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise.

- Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children.

- How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl.

- He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising.

- That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

- Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee.

- That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

- Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis.

- I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

- So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

- What lady?

- Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

- You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees.

- Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

- Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

- But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

- No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring.

- You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring.

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men.

- Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

- No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes.

- 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose.

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie.

- You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

- Light?

- I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug.

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was.

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis.

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill.

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs.

- Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis.

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him.

- Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

- Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

- Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

- I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

- Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR.

- Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

- Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men.

- Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums.

- Maybe I will.

- Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

- Steve’s picking her up.

- Steve?

Steve.

////////////////////////////////////

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! Love the temptation danny story so much! Can i have a follow up request where reader has to go home for vacation due to a family reunion while danny is off somewhere for testing and she tells danny that its ok that she goes alone since he is busy but he keeps insisting that they should go together but reader has already booked a flight and the next following days while the family reunion is going on danny just arrives and everyone gets so starstruck by him and he is so possessive of her while the reunion is going on, LOVE THE FICS BTW YOU ARE AN AWESOME WRITER

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {6}

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff (two part request) WC: 3.4K F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven Snapshots: One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Wednesday “Honestly, it’s fine,” you reassured him for the seemingly hundredth time.

Daniel’s suitcase was at the door beside yours except the planes you were leaving from in Nice were going in two very different directions.

“It’s not fine,” he muttered as he checked his Passport was in his back pocket before pulling you into his arms. “I was looking forward to seeing your family again. They’re going to be mine soon too.”

You smiled at the reminder and brushed your thumb over the engagement ring. “You’ll see them at Christmas.”

“Not everyone,” he pointed out. The Christmas get together was going to have both of your immediate family members, with his flying out from Australia. “I want to talk to your cousins.”

“What? Why?” You pulled back to see the mischievous look in his eyes and the smile that promised he was up to something.

“Cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled. “And I want to know what you were really like as a kid.”

“I was a little angel.”

His hands roamed over your body to settle on your ass and he pulled you flush against him as he teased, “What happened?”

You giggled as you rose on your tiptoes and grazed your nose along his throat before resting your lips on his jaw as you teased him right back, “I fell for a man with a wicked tongue.”

You could see the darkening in his eyes and his lips parted with a filthy suggestion on the tip of his tongue but the blaring of an alarm from his jeans drew a groan out instead. “I’m going to have blue balls for the flight now.”

“You should probably take care of that.”

“It’s a 30 minute drive to the airport, Kitten, you could take care of it along the way.”

It was a strange feeling returning to the town you had grown up in. The streets remained the same, trees lining the curb and kids playing in the front yards, but the faces were all unrecognisable. Like you, most of the people you knew had fled as soon as they finished high school, searching for something bigger than what this place could offer.

Nearly every parking space on the street was taken by your extended family but your dad had saved one for you near the house with the recycling bin. It was a good thing too because Daniel had kind of spoiled you as he walked you to your boarding gate. He hadn’t been able to resist dragging you into the duty free shops in the terminal and now the extra baggage was missing the pair of hands that carried it for you. You had told him it was too much but he just kissed you until you forgot about arguing. It wasn’t fair, you could never win an argument when he cheated like that.

You got the feeling everyone had been waiting for you because the moment your car door closed they all filed out of the house to come and help with your luggage.

“There’s the city-slicker, welcome home,” Vanessa greeted with a kiss on your cheek before pouting as she saw the empty front seat. “Damn, thought you were bringing the sugar daddy with you.”

“Don’t call him that, he’s not my sugar daddy,” you warned with a roll of your eyes but your cousin clearly wasn’t paying attention. “Daniel is with the Red Bull guys in Japan for some big event. He wishes he could come but they called in everyone: Scotty, Liam, Mad Mike, they all had to be there too. ”

Your dad took the suitcase from your hand and nodded understandingly. “That’s a shame, but at least my little girl has finally come home.”

Your bedroom hadn’t changed all that much since you left to go to university and you could see the pin pricks and faded lines in the wallpaper outlining where your posters used to be.

“Ohh, this is gorgeous,” Nessa grinned as she helped herself to the garment bags, the tags still on the designer clothes Daniel had bought you. “So am I going to meet this not-your-sugar-daddy before the wedding?”

“You could come to Christmas if you want, and go ahead, try it on,” you sighed before flinching at the squeak she made before abandoning her clothes like you were still kids and stepping into the first dress. “Nice to see you haven’t outgrown stealing my clothes.”

“There’s a reason we are the same size, it's fate. Karma herself said, Nessa, you deserve to wear nice things too,” she joked as she turned around. “Do me up?”

“You are so full of shit,” you laughed as you zipped her up. “Am I going to get that back?”

“Do you have a sugar daddy?”

“No.”

“Well there's your answer.”

Friday “Hey Kitten,” Daniel greeted with a bright smile when the video call connected. “How’s it going?”

You leaned the phone against your mirror so you could continue to apply your makeup and held up two shades of lipstick. “Just getting ready to go out with Nessa. How’s the event? I haven’t seen many pictures.”

“Left hand, and you won’t - they are keeping everything under wraps until they have finished filming. Think the Melbourne GP promo vid, but bigger…”

You opened the lipstick he chose, the one you knew he would since he always complimented the shade on you - and when it transferred to his skin too. He fell silent as he watched you lean closer into the mirror, leaving the swell of your breasts filling his screen.

“Kitten…I wish I was there,” he sighed when you pulled back and blew him a kiss to show the colour off.

“I wish you were here too,” you admitted, taking the phone with you as you sat on the bed and hugged your pillow. “Two days down, four to go.”

“You’re still counting in days? I’m counting in hours, fuck it, minutes.” He sent you a screenshot and you saw the countdown timer on his homescreen, the hours and minutes slowly ticking away until you were reunited. “Where are you and Nessa going? Is Carter going too?”

You shook your head at the question. Vanessa’s brother was far too busy with his new girlfriend to want to go to the local bar. “He’s too cool to hang out with us at the Old Oak Inn.”

Daniel sat up a little straighter and didn’t appear too pleased at the news. “Is anyone going with you?”

“Ness.”

“You know what I mean,” he huffed, “who is going to look out for you two?”

“Everyone knows everyone here, baby, we’ll be fine.” You gave him a smile as your chest warmed with the same gooey feeling you got every time he worried about you. “I love you, my protective he-man.”

“I love you too, Kitten,” his face softened until he heard Max calling his name outside his hotel door. “Send me lots of pictures, baby, I wanna see my gorgeous girl having fun.”

Nessa burst into the room as you ended the call and ripped the pillow away from your arms. “Get up, bitch, the taxi is here.”

The bar had changed a lot since you last went, the atmosphere more akin to a club than a pub, and you narrowed your eyes at Nessa who just grinned back. “You said it was a chill night out.”

“I lied,” she said with a shrug. “We can go back if you’d rather get in a fight over monopoly?”

You cringed at the thought so she dragged you through the busy room and straight to the bar.

“Holy shit, we have royalty in the house,” an old school friend greeted as he tended to the bar. “Did Monaco get too busy?”

“Not quite, Mark, I’m just back for a family reunion.” He placed your old favourite drink down without having to ask and you quirked an eyebrow at it.

“I have a good memory, but it might taste better than it did in the old plastic cups we drank out of,” he laughed before pouring a bourbon for Nessa. “Milady.”

He wandered off to serve someone else and you turned to Nessa. “You and Mark?”

“A few times, you know, just a bit of fun,” she said as she winked at him when he glanced back. “Oh, head down, Andrew’s here.”

You ducked into her arms and kept your head down until she said you were safe and sighed with relief. “Jesus, everyone really does come here. Is there any other bar around?”

“If you want to catch an STD off the bar top, sure. Plus, your high school sweetheart will probably find his way to Ruby’s later anyway.”

“We dated for like four months, I wouldn’t call him my highschool sweetheart,” you scoffed.

Nessa’s brow lifted. “Need I remind you he took your V Card? Your first always has a teeny tiny place in your heart.”

“Not mine, and Danny took my A Card so that trumps it.”

“A Card…?” she trailed off before her eyes widened in realisation. “Ew gross. Did it hurt?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Whatever, we both know how you get after a few drinks.” She grabbed your phone and held it up as she raised her glass and you clinked them together before tipping them back. “Perfect. And done.”

You barely caught your phone as she carelessly tossed it back and you saw she hadn’t sent it to Danny but uploaded it to Instagram. “Fucksake, Nessa, you left the location on.”

You had learned quite quickly that most of the people that followed you only used it to see updates Daniel might not have posted himself, including using the locations of your posts thinking Daniel would be with you. It had led to a few scary situations before you learned to keep your location off or at least generalised - but she had tagged the Old Oak Inn.

Taking another photo with a pout, you posted it with the caption, ‘half of my soul is half a world away, miss you danielricciardo’ and hoped it would stop some people within driving distance from making the pointless journey hoping to see Danny.

You opened the photo again and zoomed in to see Andrew in the background, his eyes clearly looking at your ass when the camera snapped.

“What made you happy all of a sudden?” Nessa asked as she returned with fresh drinks.

“Danny’s on his way,” you giggled nervously as you clutched your phone to your chest.

“I thought he couldn’t come.”

“He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t, but I don’t think there’s anyone with the balls to stop him. He can be a little stubborn sometimes.” It was a severe understatement and if he wasn’t such a good driver you were certain he would have been fired for some of the escapades he found himself in because he got a little overprotective and possessive when he was away from you. “Christian Horner offered me a job just so I could be wherever Daniel was and keep him in line, but I think it was a joke.”

“You need to accept it, joke or not, your man is whipped for you.”

You took a sip of your drink before you spilled the truth about who really did the whipping and pondered the idea you had initially laughed off. You could still work a similar role with Red Bull, so maybe it shouldn’t have been brushed off so quickly. For tonight, you would focus on having fun with Nessa and catching up with old friends.

Saturday You groaned at the dawn light that brightened the room as the curtains were ripped aside and rolled over. “Nessa, piss off.”

“Something bothering you, kitten?”

You probably looked like a zombie coming to life as you threw your blankets back and rushed up to meet Daniel as he climbed onto the bed. The old frame creaked unused to the extra weight on it but you didn’t care if it collapsed, you weren’t letting go of Daniel once he was in your arms.

“You’re actually here,” you murmured against his lips when you finally broke apart to breathe. You had kept looking over your shoulder all night expecting him to appear but when the bar closed and he still hadn’t arrived your hope had simmered down.

His smile was blinding as he brushed your messy hair back and buried his face in your neck with a deep inhale. He was a cat high on catnip the moment his nose brushed your racing pulse and he guided you back into the sheets as he caged you beneath him. “Told you I’d see you soon.”

“My parent’s room is next door,” you whispered as his hips settled between your legs and he teased you when he rolled them against you.

“Then I suggest you find something to bite,” he chuckled, his fingers slipping into your panties and feeling how your body had instantly reacted to his touch, “because I have missed you so much. I just need to feel you around me. right now.”

His lips parted and he sighed at the pretty sight as he dragged your panties down your legs. “There’s my pretty kitty,” he mused as he shuffled down the bed so he could settle between your legs, kissing your thighs softly as he reacquainted himself after three days apart. “Have you missed me?”

“Like crazy.”

“She thinks I’m talking to her,” he whispered and you felt the warmth of his breath on the sensitive spot he was confessing to. You giggled at the silly man and squirmed with the silent plea for him to stop talking and do more, the bed creaking with the movement. Daniel grabbed your hips and held them still so the bed fell silent before shaking his head with an amused smirk. “Impatient little minx.”

Rather than take the taste you knew he wanted, he flipped you onto your knees and pushed your head into the pillow to silence the sounds that spilled forth as he curled two fingers into your cunt. A few flicks of his wrist were the only preparation he gave your body before his shorts were halfway down his thighs and he replaced his fingers with his cock.

Your pillow heated with the heavy moan that filled it and it grew damp as your teeth clamped down on the satin slip. It had only been three days but the burn of the stretch danced the fine line between pleasure and pain until he reached around your hip and found your clit.

“Fuck you’re tight, kitten,” Daniel grunted, his lip almost bleeding as he bit it to keep quiet and pulled back a little so you could acclimate to his size again. “You okay, baby?”

You answered by pushing yourself back, needing him as much as he needed you, and you relished in the full feeling when your ass met his body. His heavy breathing broke the quiet morning and he covered your back, pressing his lips to your spine and following the line to your neck.

“Lay down for me.”

Unwilling to part with you for a moment, he helped you onto your stomach and carefully shifted until his legs were outside of yours and your thighs pressed together. The pillow muffled your moans as the position increased the feeling of fullness and he rode you with long smooth strokes, keeping the bed from creaking.

“Three days was too much, kitten,” he confessed quietly as he kissed your shoulder. “I can’t go a day without you. Want you with me, always.”

Despite the exhaustion of the late night and early wake up, you weren’t able to get back to sleep, even with Daniel there to spoon you. A knock at your door had put an end to that plan and you were reminded that everyone was getting ready to go to the lake for a day out on the water.

Everyone except Vanessa were surprised to see Daniel joining you for breakfast and you got the best pick of the cooked meal while they all fawned over the celebrity.

“Alright, alright, leave him be,” you said as you moved them along and handed him a plate you had filled before sitting on his lap. Seats were in short supply with so many people coming and going that you were happy to share one. “I know he’s a bit weird but try to treat him normally.”

“Morning, Sugar,” Nessa teased quietly as she took the seat beside him.

“Ness…meet Daniel, officially,” you said, since she had seen him on a video call.

“We met this morning, didn’t we, Sugar? Who do you think let him in? We had a great chat about you.”

She was finding it too amusing and Daniel’s shoulder bounced with a laugh as he stuffed bacon into his mouth to avoid commenting. “I thought you were joking.”

“I told you, cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled before kissing your cheek. “She didn’t tell me anything new though; I already knew you were smart and beautiful.”

“She was just saying that so she could keep the Givenchy dress she stole.”

“Pfft, not true, but I can totally play it up if you want to part with the Jimmy Choos too.” She turned her attention to Daniel who had been thoroughly enjoying the interaction while idly massaging your hip. “Did she tell you that she climbed up a tree to save a cat? The fire department gave her a medal for it. Or this one time she single-handedly stopped a bank robbery.”

“Oh my god,” you snorted at the absurdity.

“Don’t get me started on how she took down an international crime syndicate with a muscle car.”

“Who am I? Vin Diesel? Just shut up.”

“No, no, give me more,” Daniel encouraged. “I thought Lando was imaginative but this is next level.”

You could see the moment her train of thought was lost and a sly smile grew. “Think you could introduce me?”

“To Lando? No way, you would eat him alive.”

“Come on, I introduced you to Drew so you owe me.” You felt Danny’s hand stop the calming circles and wished she had kept her mouth shut as he asked who Drew was. “Andrew, her first boyfriend, well only boyfriend before you, I thought you would have known, my bad.”

Breakfast was fairly quiet after that and you knew Daniel had questions he was just waiting to ask when he got you alone. Fortunately, you could put them off for a few hours as you all set off to the lake, the distraction of you in a bikini enough to placate him in the meantime.

“So this Andrew…” he stated as he pulled you into his arms and waded out deeper into the warm water. “Why haven’t I heard about him?”

“Because it was years ago?”

“Did you love him?”

“I was 17, I didn’t know what love was,” you laughed as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he scoffed, but it was clearly a lie.

“Baby, you’re the only man I have ever loved, and the only one I will ever love - with one exception.” His eyes narrowed and you giggled as you kissed his cheek. “If we have a kid someday and it’s a boy, then I would love him too.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled with the smile that split his face. “I suppose I could live with that.”

“Good, so forget about Andrew. You are everything I want and need.”

“So long as I don’t have to cross paths with the bastard that took your innocence.”

There were only two days left before you flew back to Monaco, what were the chances?

Click here for part seven.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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sjsmith56 · 2 months ago

Text

A Better Man, Part 1 - Preparation

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor with a shady background, offers to help a single mother get her inherited house renovated. It should be simple.

Length: 4.9 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Bucky’s awkwardness, trust issues, teasing, practical jokes, association with criminals.

Author notes: This is primarily a romance between two people who have been hurt in the past. There will be moments of angst and even some darker memories and events but this Bucky is a soft and sweet guy.

Part 1

All three of the men stood outside the building, waiting, just like they did every Tuesday for the past month. Bucky Barnes, the man who owned the building, where his general contracting business was located, pulled out a package of cigarettes, offering one to the other two, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both declined.

"She doesn't like cigarettes," said Steve, pulling out a package of gum instead, offering one to Sam, who took a stick, sliding it out of the foil paper before inserting it in his mouth. "Says it's not good for the baby."

Bucky put his cigarette back in the package, then stuck his hand out for a piece of gum instead, making Steve and Sam grin. He had it bad if he was willing to chew gum for her. To be fair, the other two gave up smoking around her themselves, after meeting her for the first time 5 weeks before.

"Here she comes," said Sam, nodding his head towards the end of the block. "Best part of the week, right there."

The "she" they referred to was Andrea Hart, a single mother who moved into the neighbourhood over a year before but only started walking past their building in the past month and a bit. They watched as she pushed the baby stroller towards them, her long hair softly bouncing in the light breeze, smiling at other people who saw her walk this way every Tuesday at 3 pm, enjoying the way she radiated something good in every step that brought her closer.

"Good afternoon," she called out, as she approached the three men. "Were you all waiting for me to walk by?"

"Yes," said Sam and Steve simultaneously, just as Bucky said the opposite.

Bucky glared at the two men, but he smiled back at Andrea. "We were taking a break and enjoying the sunshine when we saw you coming so we decided to wait."

"How's baby girl this afternoon?" asked Sam, peeking into the stroller.

"Wide awake for once," answered her mother. "Would you like to hold Lily?"

Sam grinned. "Yes ma'am. I've held a baby before. My sister has two boys, and I looked after them when they were little."

She reached into the stroller, then lifted out the cutest doll of a baby girl, dressed in a bright yellow romper. Sam expertly cradled Lily in his arms, smiling down at the baby with a look that the other two men had never seen before. It obviously worked as Lily gurgled happily at him. Steve leaned over and poked his finger into Lily's chubby little hand, grinning when she grasped it tight.

"I think she's adorable," he said, in an admiring voice. "She must bring you such joy."

"She does," smiled Andrea. "I just wish her dad thought the same way."

"He still not helping you?" asked Bucky. "We know people who could talk to him. Just give us his name."

"No, please leave him alone," she answered, the light within her dimming a little. "I appreciate the offer but he's a lost cause. Just as well, because then he would have to be part of our lives, and I don't want that. We're better off on our own." With a shrug, she smiled again. "Well, we better be going. I have to pick some things up at the grocery store."

Sam reluctantly gave Lily back to her mother. Bucky watched Andrea's face as she laid the baby back inside the stroller, her face soft and full of love for her little girl. The guy who got her pregnant must be a real asshole for not wanting to be part of their lives. What he wouldn't give for someone like her to be waiting for him at the end of a workday. With another smile and a quick wave Andrea left and they watched her walk away until she was out of sight.

"It's not right," said Sam. "That lovely lady and that sweet baby deserve the best." He looked at Bucky. "We are going to talk to the father, aren't we? He needs to at least be financially responsible."

"You heard her," replied Bucky, taking the gum out of his mouth, and dropping it into the bucket of sand outside the door of his building. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, taking several long drags and blowing the smoke out forcefully. "Find out who and where he is and whether he can afford to support that baby. Don't do anything to him. I just want information."

Two days later they met in Bucky's office. Sam turned on the Smart TV and sent the photos he had on his phone to the big screen. It was obvious with the first one who the baby's father was. The first picture of him handing off a shipment to a local drug dealer was all that the three men needed to know that he was bad news.

"Shit," muttered Bucky. "Brock Rumlow."

"Hydra Contracting," said Sam. "He doesn't usually handle deliveries but their usual guy, Walker, got himself arrested for beating someone up. The new ADA is making an example of him, although Pierce is trying to get the charges dropped or reduced."

"How the hell did she get mixed up with him?" asked Bucky, his frown threatening to leave a permanent crease between his eyebrows.

"Flat tire," said Steve. "Right in front of one of their chop shops. He changed it for her, asked her out then swept her off her feet. When he got tired of her, he left her high and dry." He looked at Sam, who shrugged. "Bucky, Hydra has been associated with a baby trafficking ring. I'm not saying Rumlow would do that to his own daughter but ...."

"If he's not willing to acknowledge her as his daughter then he might not care," stated the dark-haired man. "Do we have anyone in their organization who can keep an eye on him?"

"Yeah, Quill has been working as security at the strip club. Rumlow's there most nights. Do you want someone watching her during the day?"

There was no answer for Sam for a long time, then Bucky sighed. "She's not working, is she?"

"No, she's on leave. She seems to have a bit of money from an inheritance, but she'll likely have to go back to work before Lily is a year old. She was a teacher."

He stubbed the cigarette out and rubbed his face with his hands. Of all the men to become involved with, Rumlow was one of the worst.

"Do we have anyone on the city payroll who can be doing work near her place?"

Steve flipped through a list on his phone.

"Mrs. Parker's nephew," he said. "He's in the general landscaping department as a labourer. Could be trimming some trees that are on public property near her place."

"Arrange it," said Bucky, glancing through the door where May Parker, his receptionist, was on the phone. "I want to know her other walking routes as well. Might as well get people staked out on them."

Sam and Steve glanced at each other. "That might leave us a bit thin," said Steve. "Unless I spring for more who are on the city payroll."

"Do it," ordered his boss. "I don't want her to walk anywhere without eyes on her." He looked up at them. "Yes, I like her. I just want her and her little girl to be safe. It's not like I have plans to ask her out."

With a grin at each other, the two men left, and Bucky sat back, resting his head on the back of his chair, then closing his eyes. Unable to help it, he thought of Andrea, like he had every day since he first wondered why Sam and Steve waited outside the office at the same time on Tuesdays, starting five weeks ago. It was two weeks later when he joined them and saw her for the first time. Sam, who had always been friendly to the ladies, greeted her; commenting on what a fine day it was for a walk. Then he asked about the baby as if they had known each other for some time. The jerk had even inquired about the baby's first tooth coming in then shared what his sister used for teething issues. Andrea had been so grateful for the advice. Bucky tried to remain indifferent but since that day he couldn't help but wonder if someone like her would ever be interested in someone like him. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stood up. It was no use hoping for someone like Andrea. Considering the type of work he had to take on, no decent woman should come within 20 feet of him. He grabbed his jacket and told Mrs. Parker he was going for lunch.

Half an hour later, he found himself in line at a hot dog vendor, ordering a chili dog and coffee. Taking it with him, he sat on a bench in a nearby park, taking the first bite. Watching the people milling about he didn't notice that someone was approaching him until the woman spoke.

"Chili dogs, huh? I didn't see you for a hot dog guy."

He looked to his right, surprised to see Andrea, by herself. His first reaction was to stand up, with his chili dog still in his hand, which made her grin, then he gestured to the bench, waiting for her to sit down before he did.

"Where's Lily?" he asked, after he finished chewing the bite he was in the middle of.

"My friend is watching her," she said. "I had an appointment with the bank." He raised his eyebrows. "Just some things to do with my house. I inherited it and it needs some work, so I have to get a loan to pay for the renovations." She looked away for a moment. When she turned back, he noticed her eyes were glassy. "They turned me down, so I might have to sell it."

"Why did they turn you down?" asked Bucky.

"Because I'm on maternity leave, and technically not working," she sighed. "I'm living on the money I inherited but it's not considered income. It's enough for me and Lily but not enough to pay for the improvements."

"I'm sorry," he frowned, noticing that he was still holding his partially eaten chili dog. Standing up, he tossed it into a nearby garbage can, then sat back down with her. "Maybe I can help."

She smiled wanly then looked away. "That's nice of you but we barely know each other and only to say hi."

It came out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying.

"Go out with me," he said. "We can become better acquainted."

Andrea seemed amused by that.

"You're not serious. I have a six-month-old baby that I'm nursing. I can only go out for a few hours."

"Then have me over for dinner," he said. "I can look at your place and see for myself what you need doing. I know lots of tradespeople who would give you a good rate on any necessary renovations if I asked."

It seemed to take forever for Andrea to answer and for a moment, Bucky thought she was going to turn him down. Then she breathed out noticeably and looked at him.

"Alright," she said. "Tomorrow, 6:30. Let me give you my address and phone number. Don't dress up and don't bring alcohol as I can't drink while I'm nursing."

He grinned, handing her his unlocked phone for her to put her information into his contacts. Before she handed it back, she called herself and answered the call on her phone, saving his information in her contacts. Then she stood up and walked backwards away from him.

"Don't be late," she said, before she turned forward as he watched her until she was out of sight, followed discreetly by one of his men.

By the time he got back to the office, Sam and Steve already knew he was seen with her. Then he told them about getting an invitation to her place for dinner.

"You did what?" asked Steve, while Sam looked at Bucky, not believing what he just told them.

"I asked her out, but it's hard with a baby so I invited myself for dinner at her place instead," he replied. "She needs work done on her house and I said I could look at what needs to be done and recommend tradespeople who could do it for a good rate."

"I hope you're not thinking of some questionable tradespeople," said Sam, "who sometimes use stolen materials or cut corners."

"Not for this job. I would insist on quality work." They still looked askance at him. "I can assess her security situation as well. It was a spur of the moment thing. It's not like I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend, or anything."

"Bucky, she's a single mother," said Sam. "You don't want to mess with her heart. That would be cruel. Considering your track record ...."

He sighed. What did they think he was? He wasn't a slimy lothario preying on a lonely woman. He was a slightly shady businessman, who was doing something kind for a nice lady who had been taken advantage of by an asshole. Dinner with her was just being friendly, nothing more. He sent the pair of them off, telling them to make themselves busy and leave him alone. They did, but not without making jokes about him getting soft and gooey inside.

They were even worse the next day, asking him every hour if he was psyched up about dinner with Andrea. He finally had enough before lunch time and left, heading out in his car. He didn't even know where he was going then was shocked when he found himself parking outside his mother's condo building. Taking it as a sign he headed inside, going up in the elevator as it went up to the 27th floor. The elevator doors opened, and he walked down the hallway towards her door, slowing down as he got closer. Just as he decided to turn around the door opened and his mother, Winnifred Barnes, gestured to him.

"You made it this far," she said. "You might as well come all the way in. Mrs. Parker said you left the office."

With a sigh, he stepped in, following her to where she had lunch already set up for the two of them. Whenever he needed to talk seriously about something he often showed up at her place for lunch. He sat at one of the empty chairs, taking the napkin and spreading it across his lap, as Winnifred had raised him with manners. Then he waited while she served herself first. Placing some food on his plate, he took a bite, chewed it well, and looked at her.

"So, tell me about her," said Winnifred. "She must be something if she's got you this bothered."

"How do you even know about her?" he asked.

"Darling, I'm your mother," she smiled. "Plus, Sam and Steve report to me on any woman who draws your attention. Don't even try to get them to stop. I have dirt on them."

"She's a single mother of a six-month-old baby girl," he answered. "Teacher, living off an inheritance while she's on maternity leave. The baby's father is a douchebag." She frowned at him. "Sorry, he's an associate of one of our rivals. Swept her off her feet then abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant."

"I already know that." She took a bite of her salad, then a drink of water. "What is she like?"

"I hardly know her, but she makes me want to be a better man." He took another bite of food. "Her parents basically threw her out and even though she has every right to be angry at her situation, she's so full of light and joy. The look she has for her baby is a look ... it's a look I want to feel on me. I would give it all up for her if she felt for me what I feel for her. I would go legit." He looked his mother in the eye. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

She put her cutlery down and placed her hand on his. "That's what I wanted to know. Does she know what you really do?"

"I think she suspects but no, I haven't said anything to her. I'm having dinner at her house tonight. She needs some renovations done on her home and I offered to assess them. Figured I could point some of my more honest subcontractors towards her and give her a good deal."

She sighed. "You know, I was in your shoes when I met George. My father didn't have any sons, so I took control of the business after he died, then I met your dad, and he was drawn into my world." She smiled. "He could handle it, being a veteran. Could she handle it if you stayed in?"

For a long interval Bucky didn't answer, then he shook his head. "I don't want her involved in it. It would dim her inner light. Plus, it would make her and her daughter targets. She doesn't deserve that." He sighed. "I don't even know if she thinks of me in the same way."

"Well," she smiled and patted his hand. "Until you find that out, it's something that you don't really have to worry about, is it? No matter how it turns out, just make sure that she's protected. Even just showing up at her place for dinner can make some of your rivals take notice of her."

He nodded. "I know. I've already put people on watching her. I won't let anyone hurt her."

She smiled indulgently at him, then changed the subject to something more trivial. By the time Bucky left he felt more confident about the dinner. His mother must have phoned Sam and Steve because when he went back to the office, they didn't make any jokes about him and Andrea. That lasted until he was ready to go home and change. He grabbed his jacket, reaching inside a pocket for his car keys, but pulling out several condom packages instead. Coming out of his office he heard them both snickering and just shook his head at them, before storming out of the main door without a word. He didn't see the disapproving look Mrs. Parker gave the pair.

When he got to his condo, he showered, shaved, applied some cologne, brushed his teeth well, and put on some dark wash jeans, a button up shirt and a sports jacket. He looked at the small pile of condoms on his dresser and shook his head again. Animals: those two were so crude. It only took 20 minutes to get to Andrea's place which would make him early, so he kept driving until he found a florist, and bought some flowers for her. She said not to bring alcohol but didn't say anything about flowers. It wasn't until he was almost at her place again before he wondered if they were appropriate. When he parked, he looked up lavender roses and groaned at the symbolism behind them; love at first sight. If he went to get different flowers, he would be late, and she distinctly said not to be late. With a shake of his head, he grabbed the bouquet and walked up the steps of the three-story brownstone to the door, pressing the doorbell. Andrea appeared moments later, opening the door. She looked great, wearing a top and jeans that hugged her in all the right places.

"Right on time. Come on in."

He followed her to the kitchen, handing her the flowers.

"These are for you."

She smiled a full smile that made her face light up in a way that made Bucky dizzy.

"They're lovely, thank you!"

Putting them on the counter she reached for a vase but even on her tiptoes she couldn't grasp one, so Bucky reached over her and put it on the counter. Quickly, she filled the vase with water, then cut the bottoms of the stems.

"You didn't have to buy me flowers, you know."

"I didn't want to come empty-handed," he answered. "Where's Lily?"

"I fed her and put her down. She should be out for several hours. How have you been?"

Bucky shrugged. "Honestly? Nervous about coming over. I don't go out much."

"A handsome man like you? I don't believe that." She arranged the flowers. "I was nervous, too. I think I've changed my clothes about three times. Mind you, the first time was because I leaked."

He frowned at her in confusion, then she pointed to her chest. It couldn't be helped, as her gesture made him look right there, at a pair of beautiful, full breasts. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look in her eyes instead.

"Ah, right. That must be embarrassing if it happens at the wrong time."

"Tell me about it." She grimaced, then placed the flowers on the table, which was nicely set for two. It reminded him of how his mother always set the table for them to eat together. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded. "What exactly do you do? I noticed your building doesn't have a sign."

"Shit," he thought, then he breathed. "I can do this." He smiled at her. "I'm a general contractor. That's why I know a lot of tradespeople. What about you? You said you're on maternity leave."

"Teacher," she replied. "Elementary school. They weren't exactly happy that a single teacher got pregnant. Not the best role model." Bucky tried to look sympathetic. "Anyways, why don't you stay here, and I'll bring supper out."

"I can help," he offered.

"It's okay. I've got it."

She brought lasagna, then went back for salad and garlic bread. For him, she offered soda but poured herself some milk. Deferring to her to serve herself first, Bucky waited to help himself. The first bite of lasagna was good; more than good. It was really good, and he told her so. That brilliant smile displaying her inner light came out again and he felt his heart beating against his chest wall, wanting to see it more. They talked about all sorts of things, laughing and joking about people they worked with. He shared some funny stories about Sam and Steve, while she told him about her grandmother, who lived alone in the house, then invited her to live there after she found out she was pregnant.

"She died when Lily was just a month old but at least she saw her only great grandchild. Excuse me."

He could hear her crying in the kitchen and got up from his chair, approaching her, then gently pulling her into his arms.

"You must miss her a lot," he murmured, as he rubbed her back, not believing how good it felt to hold her, but wondering what else he could do to comfort her.

Andrea nodded, then pulled away and reached for a tissue. "Sorry to lose it like that," she sniffed. "My parents weren't happy with me, but she just took me in, no questions asked. I think my parents are also angry that she left me the house. I got the feeling they were counting on it to fund their retirement dreams."

"Why don't I help you clean up and you can show me what needs to be done," he suggested.

She agreed and they cleaned up the dishes together, then she took him to the third floor, showing him the water stains on the ceiling, an indication that the roof needed replacing. From there, they walked down to the next level, and she showed him a bedroom with water damage around the windows, which looked original. He took a good look at them, reluctantly noting that they needed replacing. The main floor, where the living room, kitchen and dining room were, seemed to be in good shape but she pointed out that there were water stains on the ceiling in the living room.

"The bathroom is right above this corner, so there must be a leak," she said.

"Might be that," he stated. "I would have to open that ceiling up to be sure. There might be an opening in the brick façade there that's letting water in. Not the easiest thing to fix without tearing something apart."

She stopped in front of a door. "This is the worst part," she said, as she opened it, then turned on the light that lit up the stair well. He followed her into the bottom floor, where she turned on another light then showed him the electrical panel. "This isn't good, is it?"

He looked at the mass of different wiring that snaked out of the panel, giving out a long, ominous breath.

"No, it's not. You have aluminum and copper wiring mixed together in there and that's dangerous. It's a fire hazard. Fixing this would be a priority and it won't be cheap because they'll have to rewire the entire house. That means they have to open walls and ceilings up, replace the junction boxes. It's a big job, will cost a lot of money, and will take a while. You wouldn't be able to live here while it's being done."

"Shit," she swore, then she started crying again. "I knew it. I had another contractor in here and he said none of it was a big deal. I went to the bank for the money based on what he quoted me. I should have known he was stringing me along."

"May I ask who you talked to?" asked Bucky, concerned it was one of his guys.

"Sitwell Renovations," she said. He felt relieved that it wasn't one of his. "Do you know them?"

"Yeah, they're sleazy," he replied. "Do you have someone you can live with?"

She shook her head. "No. My closest friend is in a one-bedroom flat, and my parents won't even answer my calls. There's no one else I know well enough to ask."

Just then the overhead light went out and they were caught in darkness. Bucky felt her hands on his chest and placed his on her arms to steady her. As their vision adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her face in the faint glow from the light in the stairwell. She was so beautiful in the dim light. Her pupils were dilated, and she looked up at him in a way that made him feel like a teenager again. He really wanted to kiss her but instead he pulled his cell phone out and turned on the flashlight, aiming it at the floor.

"Smart idea," she said. "I should get a new light bulb in there."

He shook his head. "Honestly, you need to move out of here until you get the wiring redone. I'm serious about it being dangerous. The longer that mess is channeling electricity the bigger the risk of an electrical fire."

"I have nowhere to go."

Her hands were still on his chest, and she was looking at him in a way that made him feel something he never felt before. There was a rushing sound in his ears, but he felt like he could hear both of their heartbeats at that moment.

"Move in with me," he offered. "I have a three-bedroom apartment. It's in a secure building, with in-suite laundry. You can take Lily's furniture with you, but it's fully furnished so you don't need to bring anything else. I'm working everyday but I can be the general contractor for this job, get it all done the way you want, with all the proper permits and qualified tradespeople. We can work something out for payment because I'm doing alright so I don't need it up front or all at once."

She stepped away from him. "Why would you do that? You hardly know me."

He swallowed and looked down before looking at her again. Tell her the truth.

"I like you, a lot. You've been dealt a bad hand, and I can help you. I don't expect anything from you ... you know, nothing like that." He ran his one hand through his hair. "I think you need a break and maybe a friend."

While he spoke, she moved away a little bit more. Her face had changed, become harder and less trusting. No, I'm not being a creep here. Please, let me help you.

"I think you should go," she said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "Please, just go."

It felt like he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water. Reluctantly, he nodded his head and moved forward, waiting while she stepped aside to let him pass. Without a word, he went up the stairs then to the front door, looking back at where she stood at the doorway to the basement.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. My offer is genuine. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He opened the door and stepped out into the night air, taking a deep breath. Then he unlocked his car with his remote and got inside, looking at her brownstone for several moments before starting his car up and driving away.

Part 2>>

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endthedream · 1 year ago

Text

hygge

pairing: model!niki x photographer!reader

summary: meeting at a time where the both of you need a supportive person the most, a beautiful friendship (or more) rises from similar struggles.

words: 6k

story colour: gray

notes: I know this story is shorter than the other ones but I still feel a bit awkward writing about Niki. I tried my best tho and hope all of you can enjoy this story! <3

masterlist of 'enhypen as jobs'

Hygge

noun

a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).

If there was one word your father would describe you with it would be ‘vivacious’. You have always been full of life, walking around with a smile on your face and appreciating the small, little things in life. He called you a ray of sunshine, touched by the angels, and graced with the gift of never-ending happiness. He said you were his inspiration, his muse, his realization of how magical the world can be, and how there is always good in bad. He said you were everything he ever wished for in life.

He used to tell you stories about his travels around the world, places that he captured with the lens of his camera and people he remembered in his heart. Your father told you everything about the world, the cultures, and the unimaginable love he felt when he visited those places. How inspiration was at every corner, how he could see beauty in the tragedies of the world and how everything he felt changed him. He was just a little boy, when he thought he knew the world he never even saw before, but when he came back, he was a man, full of knowledge and respect.

One place he still carries deeply in his heart is Denmark. Not only because it is a beautiful country, so full of wonders and stories, but also because there was one thing he learned from his visit, one thing he still carries with him. ‘Hygge’ is what it is called. A word he now lives by. A word with a greater meaning that inspired the way he was thinking. Hygge is finding happiness in the little things in life. He was the one that taught you from when you were a child that happiness is made out of those small little moments rather than just grant events, finding magic in the ordinary, commonplace, imperfections. You think that he was the one that turned you into the vivacious person you are today.

Your father stopped traveling the world when he met your mom, but his love and passion for photography stayed. He sent his pictures to every agency, working his way up until this point. Until he started taking pictures of the most famous people in the world. It’s not something that he originally wanted or planned, but it is definitely something he enjoys. Because instead of traveling to meet people around the world, he invites them to his studio and takes photos of them. He has met dozens of people without even having to leave town.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘officially’ started working for your dad. You have been helping him at his studio ever since you can remember, and when he offered you to work for him full-time, you couldn’t say no.

Much like him you love photography, always taking pictures of everything and everyone. It has become your thing, your passion as well. And while working at your dad’s studio isn’t the kind of photography you originally wanted to do, it is a start that will hopefully take you far. Like him, you want to travel the world, appreciate every single country and capture everything you see with the lens of your camara. You want to have a blog where you can post those pictures and write about the experiences you have during your travels. You want to inspire people to follow their dreams, to pick up a camera and express themselves, to find who they really are. You want to be able to close your eyes, take a deep breath and know that the moment you open your eyes again, the view that will wait for you is worth every single dollar on this planet.

“You are daydreaming again.”, you can hear the voice of your father right next to your ear, making you snap out of your thoughts and turn around to him. He is grinning from ear to ear, arms folded.

“Sorry.”, you say, showing him a sheepish smile before looking back into the computer right in front of you, showing a picture of a woman who came in her just two days ago. “I am almost done with editing though. How do you like it?”

Your father leans down, eyes skimming over the picture for a few seconds before looking at you again. “I like how you enhanced the colors of her dress, but I think it’s too dark. We wanted to go with a more tropical, summery vibe and now it looks like fireworks on a stormy night. Brighten the picture and see what you can do to get rid of the white dots in the background.” You never said working for your dad was easy. He is your loving, kind, devoted father, but he is also a businessman. He knows what looks good and what doesn’t and whenever he takes the pictures, he has an exact vision of how it has to turn out.

“Oh, and we also got a last-minute photo shoot for tomorrow. I think this is your chance to show off your photographer skills.” In an instant you spin around in your chair, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“What? But dad, I’ve never taken professional photos before. What if I mess up the shot and you will get a bad reputation?” Until recently, photography was a hobby to you, just capturing small things you saw while taking walks, taking pictures of your friends and family or sometimes even creating abstract pictures, but never have you ever done it professionally. Not with an expensive camera or twelve lights around you or with a model in front of you. God, especially not with a model that has probably high expectations in you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, this is a good opportunity for you. And I will just be two rooms away, if you struggle or have any questions, you can always get me. But you will never make it if you don’t step over your own boundaries. How will you travel the world and capture everything with a lens, when you can’t do it right now? That’s how you learn it and that’s how you grow within it. Don’t see this as a challenge, see this as an opportunity to come out big into the world of photography.” It’s quiet for a moment, you taking the time to think about your fathers’ words and your father taking the time to study your face. He knows that this is a big step for you, but he needs to push you over your own boundaries and help you over the fear of failing.

“Okay, yeah, okay, you are right, dad. I can do this. Who will I have the photoshoot with?” Placing one hand comfortingly on your shoulder, your dad smiles proudly at you. You love that look on his face, the love and pride radiating from it. It fills you with joy and the determination to always give your best in every situation. It has made you turn into the efficient and hard-working person you are today.

“His name is Niki Nishimura. He is a model from Japan, and I thought that this would be perfect for you since the two of you are the same age. I think that you will be able to hit it off perfectly.” There is something in you that stops for a second. You have heard of Niki before from girls in your class, have seen the covers of magazines he is on and commercials on the tv. He is popular, well, more than that actually. Niki is the face of the most well-known brands, walks on fashion week catwalks and on top of that is known for his sweet and polite personality. He is the whole package, and you are going to meet him tomorrow.

“Are you okay?”, your father asks you after you’ve been silent for a while. “Do you know Mr. Nishimura?”

“Know him?”, you say, voice suddenly rising. “Dad he is so popular. Everyone knows him. How do you expect me to do a photo shooting with him when he has literally been on every single magazine I see? How am I supposed to keep my cool when he walked for fashion week in Paris? Dad, this is a huge responsibility, I can’t do that.”

“No, you cannot change your mind now. Y/n, what happened when you said ‘Yeah, dad, you are right. I can do this. Thank you for giving me this wonderful opportunity. You are the best dad in this whole world, and everyone should be jealous because they don’t have such a kind, loving, fantastic, talented, handsome father like I do.’”, he says, mimicking your voice in a high-pitched tone, and you can’t hide the small grin on your lips.

“First of all, that’s not how I sound. Second, you are so full of yourself.” You dramatically roll your eyes as you let your head fall into your arms. “And third, that was before I knew the photo shoot was going to be with the freaking Niki Nishimura. This changes things, dad, this changes things drastically.”

“Y/n, stop being so hard on yourself. Famous or not, that boy is still a human being. He is the same age as you are, so don’t think of him any differently. This is the first lesson you have to learn in this kind of work. Celebrities are humans too. They are just known by more people, but they go to the toilet like you, and they probably also do dance parties in their room late at night when they think their dads are asleep.” Your cheeks turn red as you hear the last sentence, not having known that your dad actually heard you dancing late at night in your room before. But before you can open your mouth and defend yourself, your dad continues. “They are like you and me, sweetheart. So, don’t worry, okay? If anyone can do this, then you. I believe in you, with all my heart.”

Your hands are shaking as you set up the camera. The lights are already on and directed right at the boy in front of you, who is currently watching you with attentive eyes as you fiddle around with the tripod. You were aware that Niki is known for his respectful personality, but when he walked into your dads’ studio, you didn’t expect him to be this… shy. He really seemed like a little boy who lost his parents in a supermarket. Niki was barely able to mumble a quick hello to you and tell you his name.

“Are you ready?”, you ask him, looking up at the boy who quickly- almost as if he was caught doing something wrong- looks down at the ground, nodding his head. “Okay, I’m just going to fix this light, since I think it makes you look to pale, and then we can start.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walk over to the softbox, changing its position a bit.

You are so caught up in your head that you get startled as you hear the boy in front of you start to talk. “Your hands are shaking.” It’s a simple sentence, a simple statement, but it makes you stop in your tracs. You look up at him yet again, noticing that he has taken off the sunglasses he has to wear for the shoot. There is something in his eyes- softness, you think- that makes you feel comfortable, less nervous.

“Yes.”, you stutter, clearing your throat a few times. “I’m nervous. This is my first time doing a real photo shoot, and I’m… just terrified that I will make a mistake.” Niki just nods at your words, taking a few seconds to look around the room, which gives you time to take in his outfit for this shoot. You haven’t really looked at him closely, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in any way.

He wears an all-black outfit, black slacks with a black shirt underneath a black blazer. The red and white collar of his shirt gives the outfit the finishing touch, hinting just a bit of color that is needed to compliment him. He looks amazing, dashing, like he is out of a movie- a James Bond movie probably. And you realize you have never seen a more gorgeous person in your whole entire life.

“I’m sure you will be doing just perfect.”, he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile at a thumbs up. You have to scoff slightly at his try of encouragement, showing him the same tight-lipped smile, before continuing to change the position of the softbox.

Somehow your hands are even more shaky as you stand in front of the camera again, your breaths come in shallow, and your vision become blurry. You have to close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm yourself down, trying to remind yourself that it’s just a photo shoot and that Niki is just a normal boy. But it doesn’t work, your mind is spiraling with all these bad thoughts and can’t stop them from coming over and over again, attacking and breaking you into pieces.

“Hey, are you sure you’re fine? You look like you are about to faint.” You hear Nikis’ voice, but it is somewhere in the distance, you can’t grasp if it is miles away or right beside you. The world starts turning and you really think you might actually lose control over your whole body.

“Yeah.”, you can hear your own voice, but you can’t feel your lips moving. “Just… just give me a second.” You stumble backwards, eyes still closed and somehow you land right on your behind. You don’t open your eyes, still too afraid of how your surroundings look. You don’t even flinch when you feel two hands taking yours.

“Listen to me, okay? Just follow what I am saying.” There it is again, Nikis voice. There is a mix of concern and determination in it, but you don’t have time to think about that any longer. “Breath in, and out. Again. In and out.” You continue this pattern for a few minutes. Niki guiding your breaths and you following his orders. And you can slowly start feeling yourself calm down.

When you open your eyes again, the world has stopped spinning, your heart beats at a normal speed again and your hands stopped shaking. Niki is sitting beside you, watching you carefully. “Thanks.”, you just mumble, letting out a long and deep sigh.

“No need to thank me.”

There is a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you, and for a moment you forget that there is someone sitting right beside you, until Niki speaks up again. “Did that happen to you before?”

You shake your head, letting a hand glide through your hair. “No, never. I think I was just worrying too much about everything that my body just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Niki nods slightly, eyes fixated at a point in front of him. “I used to have panic attacks all the time. Before photo shootings, before catwalks, before pretty much anything.” You look at him as he speaks, seeing the pain on his face as he remembers past moments. “I was nervous, terrified of messing up, of not being good enough, of failing every single person in my life. Those thoughts never left my mind, and I did not know how to stop them. I felt helpless, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, afraid they might laugh at me or think I am a pathetic little boy.”

“What did you do to change that?”, you ask him, attentively listening to him and hanging onto every word that was coming out of his mouth.

“Well, I started believing in myself more. Because why would people book me for modeling, if they didn’t think I was good at it? I started telling myself that I am good enough, that I made it this far, because I am good at what I am doing. Believing in yourself is always the first step to a healthier mindset.” You watch as he nervously picks at the skin on his fingers, before continuing. “And then I started telling myself that we are all just tiny little humans on a tiny little planet in this big universe. Why would I waste my time caring about my looks, or the way I walk and talk, when nothing of that is important? I mean, it is important, but you know what I mean. It seems like nothing compared to the universe. Why should I care about the opinions of others, when I will probably never see them again in my life? Why would I give my precious time to people who will just waste it, if I can surround myself with nothing but happiness? After all, we are all just little humans having dreams and hopes, having a life of our own and chasing one thing. Happiness.”

There is a silent tear rolling down your cheeks as you hear his words, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice it.

“And then I started to talk to people about my thoughts, and it helped so much. Other models told me about their worries, about their problems. And suddenly, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I felt understood, like someone tuck me into bed with a warm blanket and kissed my forehead.” There is a short moment where you both smile into the distance, caught in your own heads, before Niki directs his gaze back at you. “I’ve seen your dads’ work, that’s why I wanted to come here and get my pictures taken by him. And when he told my agency about you, his prodigy daughter, I knew that if a person as talented as him recommends you do the photo shoot with me, then you must be just as talented as he is. When I saw you today, saw the way you took so much care of the equipment and about every single person on this set, I knew that I wouldn’t want anyone else to take photos of me. You just have to believe in yourself more, trust yourself and your abilities and stop the spiral in your head. Stop thinking and just do what you love to do.”

“So, I went up to him and told him to get lost. I mean he is famous, yes, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat other people like that. Especially since my dad was having a photo shoot with him. Like be grateful that at least someone is taking pictures of you.” Niki laughs at your story, long having forgotten the hot chocolate in front of him. After your panic attack, Niki proposed a little break, so you took him to one of the best cafés in town.

“It’s so good that you gave him a piece of your mind. Sometimes fame really gets into peoples’ brains and they start thinking they are above anyone.” You nod your head, smiling at him widely and taking a bit of the cake you ordered. You close your eyes, enjoying the different flavors melting on your tongue. And when you open your eyes again, you find Niki staring at you, a fascinated look on his face. You show him a questioning look, swallowing another bite of your cake.

“I find it fascinating.”, he says, fork poking his own cake. “The way you seem to soak up every single small thing in life. Just a second ago, you looked like you were soaking up the flavor of this cake with your whole body. On the walk here, you stopped walking just to watch a bee on the flowers of the flower shop we passed by, and your eyes were actually sparkling. And it’s the way you talk about things, especially your dad. You have this way of making me feel like I was actually there with you throughout all your little stories. It’s just fascinating how much someone can enjoy life and all its little wonders.”

There is a faint tint of blush slowly creeping up your cheeks and you quickly try to hide it by covering your face with your hair. “Do you know the word hygge?” Niki shakes his head at your question, waiting for you to continue. “It’s a word from Denmark and it basically has the meaning of enjoying the small things in life and finding happiness in them. I learned it from my father and been living by it all my life.”

“That is so beautiful.” You can feel the air shift. Niki lowers his head, fork dropping beside his cake. “Sometimes I feel like my life is moving so far. I have to be somewhere new every single day. I rush from one place to another without having time to appreciate the stuff I get to see and do every single day. Everything moves so quickly, and I feel like I can’t just be a simple kid, living a simple life. I have to be a mature role model who knows everything and behaves perfectly at all times. I had to do that since I was fifteen. And it’s just… exhausting. Sometimes I just want to stop time and be… me. I want to appreciate things, stuff myself full of food until I’m nauseous, play pranks on my friends without being titled as mean. I want to act goofy without being called childish, even though I am still seventeen.”

Sniffling down your tears, you reach over to grab Nikis’ hand. “Listen to me, Niki. You are the bravest, most talented, kind-hearted person ever. Life isn’t treating anyone fairly, but we should not let that decide our whole future. If you really want to enjoy life to its fullest, then do it. Take a break, talk to your management or something like that. If you really want something, you can always get it, if you want deeply want it. People will always have something they won’t like about you, because they are jealous and miserable, but just remember that you don’t know those people and you never will. So, don’t let them decide who you are, and definitely don’t let them have power over who you want to be. Life is too short to waste it, and we won’t stay young forever. It’s important to enjoy every single little thing before it is too late.”

There is a single tear rolling down Nikis’ face, but he catches it with his thumb before it can land on the table. He takes a few breaths, calming himself down, before looking into your eyes again. He shows you a sad smile, the hand that is still holding yours squeezing in an appreciating manner. “Thank you so much for telling me all that. You don’t know how much this means to me, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me for something like that, Niki. I just said what you needed to hear a long time ago.” A few seconds of silence fill the air, Niki just looks around, trying not to think too much about your words. He doesn’t want to tear up yet again. “Okay, before any of us will start bawling their eyes out, how about you finish your cake, and I will take you to a cool place?”

Nikis’ eyes widen at the scene in front of him. The towns autumn festival is known for being breathtaking, decorations of pumpkins, leaves and mushrooms everywhere, a fairy’s wheel laced with moos and fairy lights, games you can play at every corner and a big campfire where people laugh, talk, sing and grill marshmallows. Niki doesn’t know where to look first, his eyes trying to take in every single little thing at once, before eventually landing on you, again.

“This is, wow, Y/n, this is the coolest thing I have ever seen.” You smile brightly at him before tugging on his sleeve, silently telling him to follow you. You walk up to a stand selling waffles, smiling at the elderly guy.

“Hey, Mr. Kim. Can we have two waffles, and please give them a bit of extra chocolate sauce, my friend here has never tried your waffles before.”

“Y/n, my dear, anything for you.” Niki and you both watch as Mr. Kim prepares the waffles, adding sprinkles on them and even an extra amount of whipped cream. Before you can take out your wallet to pay, Mr. Kim shakes his head violently. “No, it’s on the house. You have never brought a friend here before. Enjoy the waffles, okay?” With red cheeks you nod at the kind man, taking the waffles from him and walking to a free table with Niki.

“So, you never brought a friend here, huh?” You can hear the teasing tone in Nikis’ voice, but you are too ashamed to look at him. It’s not like you never wanted to bring a friend here, but it just never felt right. Friends weren’t really a permanent thing in your life, having had too many bad experiences with them. And whenever you had a friend that you started to trust, you always felt like they would destroy this magical festival for you. But with Niki it was different. You just felt so comfortable with Niki, so understood. Niki is different than anyone you have ever met, and after his confession earlier, you just knew that you had to share this with him. You had to share this beautiful place with him.

“I never really had friends. Whenever I did, they only seemed to like me because my dad is somewhat known. They wanted to get some fame as well. So, I just stopped looking for friends. You are the first person I feel like could actually like me for me, you know.”

Niki smiles at you, for the thousands time today, taking a bite out of his waffle. “I already do like you for you, Y/n. And I really appreciate it that I am the first person you bring here. But I just want to say that, wow, these waffles are amazing. I feel like I’ve been kissed by an angel, like I am at the beach hearing the waves softly crash against the sand, like I am floating on a cloud, like I am a changed man.” You laugh at his words, holding your stomach and tipping your head back. Niki watches you, eyes trained on your face, and he realizes how much he loves being the reason for your laughter. “Like I want to marry this waffle, that’s how good it is. And then we have little waffle children running around, spreading sugary joy all over the world. And then me and this waffle will watch those waffle children grow up and have waffle children themselves. We will sit on the porch, in little rocking chairs and watch our waffle grandchildren play in the front yard.” Tears are flooding down your cheeks from laughing at his words. There are people staring at the two of you, but you don’t care, you just live in this moment together.

“And that cloud looks like a cat eating ice cream.” The sun is setting painting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow, as you stop at the top of the fairy’s wheel. This is your third time riding the fairy’s wheel, not caring about the amount of money you are spending on it. You subconsciously hug the unicorn plushie Niki has won you earlier- after at least twelve tries- tighter to your chest as you look up at the sky with him.

“Oh, and that cloud looks a big popcorn bucket.” Rolling your eyes at the boy sitting beside you, you can’t help the grin that creeps itself up on your lips.

“You are so bad at this, Niki.” He just chuckles at your comment, eyes focusing on you again. “It’s not a popcorn bucket it is obviously a dragon drinking a cup of Pepsi.”

“Okay, this is the first one that I cannot see, Y/n. How is this a dragon? It is just a big blob, nothing more.” Gasping at his words, you shake your head in disappointment at his lack of creativity.

“How could you say that about Mr. Dragon. Has he done anything to you? No, he hasn’t. He is just enjoying his Pepsi, and you are insulting him like that. I cannot believe you right now.” Niki tips his head back in laughter, wiping at his eyes.

“Thank you.”, he says between laughs, voice raised a few pitches higher than normally.

“For what?”, you ask him.

“For this day, Y/n. This has been the coolest day ever, and all that thanks to you. I never had so much fun, I never laughed so much and so hard. I swear my belly and my jaw hurt from laughing so much.” There is this happiness, this pride, filling your heart as you hear his words. You have never felt this way before, never had someone tell you such sweet words, and thanking you for company. You swallow your tears, blinking a few times up into the sky, before you can face him again.

“You’re welcome, Niki. I hope that you can have many, many more days like this one in the future with a lot of people all over the world. Because that is what you deserve.”

“Well, I hope I can have many more days like this as well with you, right? After this day we won’t just pretend we never met, we won’t just become strangers, right? This day will lead to an amazing friendship that will last until we are old and gray, right?” You smile at him, scooting over to him and softly taking his hand in yours.

“Of course, Niki. I won’t let you leave. You are stuck with me now.” You grin brightly at him, squeezing his hand appreciatively.

“Oh, no. I take back what I said. You scare me.”

“Nope.”, you say. “No take backs, Niki. This is only the beginning.”

“So, if you are that confident in our friendship? Will you do the photo shoot with me now?”

“Those photos are amazing, Y/n. God, I am so proud of you. You did everything just as I imagined it to be, even better actually. I knew you could do it.” Your father wraps you into a tight hug, holding you against him and a bright, proud grin on your face. Pride fills your entire body as you hear those words out of your father’s mouth. You have been editing those pictures, making them perfect, for the past few days, night and day, and knowing that it turned out amazing, was worth all the stressful hours.

“Thanks dad, but I don’t want to have all the credit. Without my muse I wouldn’t have been able to pull everything off.”

Your dad breaks the hug, giving you a stern- not serious- look. “Your muse, huh? I heard Niki and you got really cozy at the autumn festival. You can’t fool me; I have eyes and ears everywhere. I tell you, before anything he becomes your boyfriend, I want to formally meet him first. I want to know everything about this boy and then I will decide if he can date my precious daughter.”

“Dad!”, you complain, cheeks redder than the tomatoes your dad is growing in his garden. “It’s not like that. I mean not yet. We are friends, dad.”

“Yeah, but if, sweetheart, if he becomes your boyfriend, I want to meet him first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s just get out these photos.” With one last smile in your dad’s direction, you walk back to your desk, the pictures of Niki still on your screen. But before you can do anything, your phone ring tone breaks the silence in the room. Smiling as you see Nikis’ contact, you open the text message he sent you, seeing a picture of him at a zoo somewhere in Japanese with the caption ‘Enjoying the little things right now and thinking about you. I’m already counting down the days till we meet again’.

Holding the phone to your chest, you can’t help but grin like a lovesick idiot. Life is great, it’s hard and exhausting sometimes, but it’s great. And you can’t wait to continue enjoying the small little moments it gives you with Niki by your side.

Bonus

“Only three more days.” Nikis’ voice says through the speaker of your phone as you look at the screen of your laptop.

In three days, it will be the fifth time you and Niki will attend the autumn festival in your town. It’s already been five years since you met, five years since you grew up together and five years since you started to enjoy the little things in life together. It still feels surreal to you, having him by your side for such a long time now.

“Three more days till I see you again, Y/n.” The excitement in his voice is evident and it warms your heart, fills it with so much appreciation for the boy on the other side of the planet. Niki is currently in Paris, attending his last fashion week for this year, and you are in Thailand, one of the countries you always wanted to visit. You have taken thousands of pictures, talked to hundreds of people and learned so much about their culture. It has been a dream, these past few weeks, and you wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in this world. But part of you misses your home, misses your dad, and misses Niki. You had one of the greatest times of your life, but you are ready to go home again.

“I can’t wait to see you.”, you say after a while, closing the laptop, grabbing your phone and sitting down outside on your little balcony. “God, I’ve missed you so much, you don’t even know.”

“Aw.”, he coos. “Are you getting emotional my sweet tiny little baby.”

“I take my words back.” You can hear his laughter through the phone, smiling at the familiar noise that became your favorite sound over the years. “But all jokes aside, I really do miss you, Niki.”

“I miss you too.”, he says, sighing softly after his words. “But it’s only three more days, right? We did five months before, so we can easily do three more days.”

“Those three days feel longer than the five months though.” You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself, slightly shaking in the cold evening wind. It’s times like this that you long for him the most, that you wish he was by your side. Traveling has shaped you in so many ways, helped you find who you really are and taught you so much about the world, but it also made you realize how much you value having a fixed place to stay, to settle down. It made you realize what you really want.

“What are you thinking about right now?”, Niki asks you, shifting from his position on his hotel bed. You can almost imagine him, messy hair, make up stains still left on his face and his SpongeBob pajamas on.

“You, I’m thinking about you. And us. Our future.”, you answer him honestly, eyes raised up into the deep blue sky.

“This is only the beginning.”, he whispers, voice low and deep with emotions. “This is only the beginning of our forever together, of our hygge together. It’s crazy to think about that sometimes, you know. The fact that we came into each other’s lives at a time where we needed it the most, and the fact that we made it so far. It’s crazy, but so indescribably beautiful. I can’t wait for these three days to pass by Y/n. And I can’t wait for every single day to pass by with you by my side. This is only our beginning, Y/n. And I already know where we can start together.” Niki stops his sentence, taking a small breath, making you anticipate his next words. “In Denmark.”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #jake enhypen x reader #nishimura niki imagine #nishimura riki #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura niki #enhypen niki #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen niki imagines #enhypen niki fluff #niki nishimura imagine

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nectardaddy · 4 months ago

Text

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

Prologue | I like this one

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ignore timestamps

"I haven't seen you before," catching the voice of a woman from a far, he turned. "My dad just hire you?" Posing the question to him as she neared him, a friendly smile gathered in her words.

The picnic table the man found himself at was adjacent to the far left side of the field, away from the beating sun and away from the chaos that the farm house brought in the distance. Eating his lunch here every day rather than the latter - it was peaceful, it was quiet. No one bothered him, and no one fought him on having a moment to himself.

He formed the pieces together in his mind quickly, connected that 'dad' must be the man who hired him; gratefully giving him the job without a second thought. And his breath hitched in his throat at the thought - he was filthy, and in no place to talk to such a woman right now. Not a woman as pretty as she was, especially not a woman who's father hired him all together.

Hat pulled off his head earlier, his grandmother telling him long ago that wearing a hat to eat was considered rude, his hair stuck to his forehead. Sweaty, and dirt ridden- a bad habit of wiping his brow with dirty gloves, he had yet to break; he felt more tense than he should.

"I've been here for a week, ma'am," replying with a small, considerate, smile. Fighting every urge to apologize right then and there for his appearance, but it wasn't as if he had a choice with the dirt. Opening his mouth to utter an apology, but promptly shut it as she joined him at the table. Stepping over the table's seat before taking it across from him.

"You don't have to call me that if you don't want to," she assured. "So, what d'you go by, man who's been here for a week?" Asking informally with a wry smile, teasing only slightly as she placed her hands on the table.

"Kita. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Now neglecting his lunch as she had started a conversation.

"Kita," she spoke to herself as if to remember it immediately. "It's nice to meet you too," she offered her name to him, posing to instead call her that instead of ma'am - to drop the formalities all together. But he'd be damned if he did that, not with her at least.

Though just as quickly as she joined him, she stood up to leave just as fast. "Finish eating." Flashing him a smile as she stepped over the picnic table seat once more, "I don't wanna' disrupt you. It's awfully hot today, you're gonna' need it busting your ass out there."

He wished to tell her that she was, by no means, a distruption. If anything, she was the highlight of his day. But just as soon as she got up, the sooner she started walking away. "Have a good day ma'am," calling out a goodbye to which she turned and waved.

"Have a good day, Kita, I'll see you around." And goodness, he sure hope he would.

#haiykuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! smau #hq x reader #hq smau #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #series: 88 ford #hbd kita I love you so much omfg #this only took me like 30 mins to write I'm insane

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astoryisaloveaffair · 7 months ago

Text

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood.

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye. The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees. The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane.

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later.

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead.

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?”

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them.

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks.

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.”

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide.

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now.

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her. “How could you?”

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips.

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life.

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself.

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes.

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it.

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to?

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends.

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence.

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him?

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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