#what if the server was called “the room where it happens”

[bearbug55]

Theres so many silly people here that like Hamilton 😭😭 im joyous asl that this community is still alive...

That being said,, would anyone join a hamilton based discord server?? For art and rambling and bullshit like that 👀👀

Message me/comment if yes............ :3

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[sonicman66]

It happened agaaaaaain

Dpxdc (mostly batman but y'all know the drill)

Danny reveal goes bad, as it sometimes does. Your decision if its a Permanent or Temporary bad result, but either way he takes off and ends up in Gotham. In the midst of getting himself settled (finalizing his new identity if he has one, pulling his emergency funds, etc.) he looks for a job, something that won't look Too Deeply into this malnourished teen with Iffy papers, no references, clearly not a local applying.

And finds work under one Oswald C. Cobblepot, who takes pity on the lad and gives him a job. Kid is either too young to mix drinks or doesn't know how, he's a bit too raggedy to be a waiter or a server, and pity doesn't mean he trusts the kid enough to let him do any of the important work, and the kid does not seem suitable for hench work. So he makes him the janitor.

The Bats catch word that Cobblepot has a new employee, and naturally they get curious, even if Penguin is on a legit streak or not, bc the new hire has obviously faked papers.

Meanwhile Penguin is happy as a clam. The new kid is great at his job, leaves the place lookin spotless, and doesn't ask any questions about suspicious stains or weird trash (besides 'where's the bleach' and 'is this hazmat or just garbage?')

Until one day, in the middle of his cleaning, Danny walks into a previously spotless room to find it slightly messed, with a shadowed figure hunching over a computer, clearly looking through files.

At this point i can't decide which way to take this is funnier.

A: Danny walks up and knocks the intruder unconscious. Calls his boss up and asks what the protocol is for a knocked out Batman in the records room.

B: Danny just huffs from the doorway. 'Dude. Seriously? I just cleaned this place.' The Bat doesn't startle, but Danny does find himself staring at the business of a batarang with Batman looming over him. Gets an impromptu interrogation like 'Why are you working for the Penguin?' 'Because he pays in cash, which i require for goods and services?' 'What do you know about his operations?' 'Jack shit, i'm a janitor.'

Or C: Batman stares at Danny. Danny stares at Batman. Danny scowls. 'I'm going to shut this door. When I come back in five minutes, this room better be as clean as it was before you came in. Got it?' Then steps out without waiting for a response. Heads out, calls Oswald and asks what the protocol is for encountering a Bat or Bird on the premises.

[naburi]

I’LL DO ANYTHING, JUST DON’T TELL HIM

JIHYO X READER

TAGS: BLACKMAIL, CHEATING, TWERKING, ICE PLAY, DOGGY, COWGIRL, REVERSE COWGIRL, CREMPIE

2K WORDS

What would you do when you saw your friend’s fiancé in the arms of another man? What would you do if that woman was staring at you from a distance? The crowd can’t hide the girl who is now walking up to the comfort room. ”I’ll do anything, just don’t tell him,” she begged.

The draining corporate life made you a regular in this bar. It becomes your escape as alcohol can wash away your stress for the night. Loud music, waves of crowd, cold alcohol, it has become a routine now. All was the same until you saw a familiar face.

The dim-lighted place can’t keep her glowing face from attracting attention, her pink tube-top made her busty front more pronounced, her ponytail made it easy to gaze upon the beauty that’s on the other side of the bar. But this is not the first time you saw her.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend,” your friend said, introducing her to your friend group. It was four years ago when you first laid eyes on her. chubby cheeks, giggling smile, thick and busty front. You were Jealous how your friend found a girl like her. Her innocence and thick body is a dangerous combination. You fantasize on breaking her innocence and using what her body is made for.

“Everyone, we’re engaged”, your friends announced last week. She now looks more fit, thinner waist, toned body, made her boobs more prominent. She is now more confident and mature. Everyone is excited for the wedding but behind closed doors, they want to hit their friend's fiancé.

The woman your friend group fantasized is in the arms of a middle-age man. He looks like he’s in early 40s, his arm across her shoulder, occasionally reaching her soft boobs to give a light squeeze. In return, the girl smirked and kissed the man's cheeks. She drank whenever the man poured in her glass. She let the man groped her while the other men besides them enjoyed the view.

She’s having the time of her life until she notices a familiar face. Someone was staring at her from a distance. It’s someone who knows her. She got sobered by the thought that you’ll expose her to your friend. If you didn’t see it yourself, you wouldn’t believe it either. She rallied to the comfort room to compose herself but you cut her off.

The two of you take a second in disbelief. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell him.” Are the first words she can muster.

“Anything?” You asked.

“Yes, Just don’t tell anyone”, she pleaded.

That’s all you needed to hear. You waved your hand to one of the server. You requested a VIP room. The girl looked worried about where this could lead, but she didn’t have a choice. She knows if this gets leaked out, her wedding will be called off and her friends and family will look at her differently. Her life will change if anyone finds out.

Shot glasses, ice bucket and bottles of liquor in the wide glass table. Long black longues cover the three walls of the room. Soft music coming from the wide screen as the room is free from the loud noise of the bar. The server closed the door behind the two of you. You invited her to sit beside you but the woman is suspicious. Her mind goes through multiple scenarios on what can happen. You finally convinced her to sit but the woman is still worried.

“Now, what do you want?” she raises her voice.

“What I always want from you,” you retorted.

“And what is that?” She got curious.

“Use your body,” you said while staring at her.

Jihyo feels trapped, she is not in a position to negotiate.

She’s wearing a white high waisted pants that are too long for your liking. You asked her to remove her pants. Jihyo looks at you in anger, knowing you have all the power. She removes her pants revealing a black lingerie undies that covers her tight slit. Her huge boobs attract all the eyes around her, not knowing she also has toned legs and butt that is now in front of you.

You asked Jihyo to turn around and expose her ass more. She shoots a death stare at you before turning around. She’s mad at the situation she's in but she can’t do anything. Jihyo, while embarrassed, leaned down her torso while keeping her legs straight. You now have a better view of her firm ass. Your hand slaps and grabs her ass which elicits a light groan for her.

One hand groping her ass while the other reaches her slit, lightly caresses it over her underwear. Jihyo left out a low moan. She quickly caught herself and held her moan. This made you chuckle, the woman who is in an unfavorable position is still finding the situation pleasurable.

“Twerk for me,” you order her.

Jihyo is not strange in “entertaining” guests, she bent her knees to get into a low position, she took a quick glance before starting moving her ass up and down. Her firm ass bounces every move she makes. She changes the tempo to build tension and anticipation. She even gets closer to your seat as this goes on. Her ass is now bouncing down on your legs, this move of her made you inpatient. you grab her ass and position it where it now bounces on the bulge on your pants. This made the two of you moan as you felt each other’s parts.

She felt your numerous slapped to her ass while you felt her ass bounces rapidly in your bulge. The two of you left a long groan both feeling hot from the position. Jihyo quickly obliged when you asked her to get on top of you. Both her arms wrap around your neck, she stares at you before grinding her hips on top of you. The feeling of your bulge directly hitting her covered slit is enough for her to get turned on even more. The huge boobs that you fantasized are now in front of you.

You pulled down her tube tap revealing her huge soft boobs. You didn’t waste anything, you alternated suck both her nipples wanting to give each the attention they deserved. Moans come out from her with the feeling of your tongue savoring all parts of her nipples. You got motivated on how she enjoyed it. You reach down on the ice bucket on the table and grab an ice cube.

Jihyo is looking at you, anticipating the next move that you’re gonna do. You lightly grazed the ice cube on her now hard nipples. She let out a loud moan as she got surprised with the cold sensation. Seeing the reaction that you’re looking for. You press the cube on her nipples, circling it around making Jihyo jerks and moans with how you’re using the ice to stimulate her.

You noticed that she put her hand inside her underwear to play with her clit. Jihyo wants to be released with how stimulated she is. Wanting to stimulate her more, you pick another ice cube and put it inside her undies as well. You ordered Jihyo to continue her grinding on top of you. The woman moans like a mess as the ice cube keeps pressing directly on her clit. Her movements get faster insinuating she’s near her orgasm. You put an ice cube on your mouth then sucked one of her boobs. Your flickering tongue, the warmth of your mouth and the coldness of the ice is what made Jihyo release her orgasm.

Still catching her breath, you position her in a doggy position, her hands are holding the backrest of the lounge, her feet dangling over the seat. You move aside her soaking undies to reveal her wet slit. You told Jihyo that you’re going to put it in. Her wetness made it easy to push in your cock. She thought that you put it all in but she noticed that you still keep going. You both moan as now your cock is balls deep in her. You pull it out slowly then trust it hard again. You keep this tempo while Jihyo can only moan on your every thrust.

You confessed how many times you imagined doing things on her. You said how jealous you felt when your friend managed to get her. And how her boyfriend is not around, they talk about how they are going to lust over Jihyo. This made her feel horny, knowing a whole group is fantasizing over her.

She also confesses that your friend didn’t know how to satisfy her which forced her to seek pleasure with other men. This made you view her cheating in a different light. She wants her needs to be fulfilled. You grab her hips and both of your arms and thrust her in an aggressive manner. Jihyo realized what you’re doing, you want to help her needs. She moans loudly signaling you that you’re hitting her g-spot. Jihyo reached into one of your hands and put it in her boob, you realized what she wanted. You put two hands on each of her boobs, pinching her nipples while the other grope her soft boobs. Her getting fuck like this in a doggy position is enough for her to release again.

She asked to take a break for a moment, sitting in the lounge, you offer her a drink to replenish some energy. She leaned her head on your shoulder while caressing your arms. She’s now more comfortable with you than before. “You’re the first man who made me release twice.” Jihyo whispered in your ear. You had a few chit-chat while wearing only underwear. emptying a bottle, you're about to open another one but she had other plans. She reaches at your cock which gets harder quickly by her touch. Jihyo keeps her eyes locked onto you as she kneels down on the floor. She gives your cock a few strokes as she licks your balls down. Still keeping her eye contact, her mouth now is on the tip of your cock. Slowly putting it all in her throat, Jihyo hit a plateau where she can’t take more in. Her eyes get watery, she raises her head up to catch her breath then engulfed your cock again, this time hitting the hilt of your cock. Her tight throat is unlike any other. Based on the look of her face, this is the deepest her throat got stretched by a cock. Jihyo is determined to get used to your cock. You hold her hair by her ponytail and push her head down to your cock. It takes a while she gets used to it but now you're the one groaning with how she deepthroat your cock.

Jihyo felt your cock twitch, she pulled her cock out to her mouth and stood up. She puts her ass in front of you, her other hand putting your cock in her slit. She sits down on you in one go. Jihyo groaned as she felt your cock again inside her. “Come inside me,” Jihyo said. She gradually picked up her pace as she’s bouncing on your hard cock. She started caressing her own boobs while keeping her fast pace. “I’m about to cum,” she said in a hurried voice. Maybe Jihyo hasn’t noticed yet but she’s getting closer to orgasm when her boobs get stimulated. You hold Jihyo's hips to thrust up to meet her ass bouncing down. She’s about to release. You buried your cock deep inside her before joining her orgasm.

You're the first person who let her explore her sexual needs, from doing it in public to having sex while on a video call with her fiancé. She promised that she’s not going to do it with you after they got married.

Few days into their marriage, your phone rings, it’s Jihyo asking to meet her up.

[hunterrrs]

another sidnate love fest on SC ("he could be 50 and i'd still slide over" - said by man who fucked that old man) (plus he loves mitchy SO MUCH and wants to do a timmies commercial with him, sid and marchy causing Trouble)

Q: I was actually gonna ask you, now that you’re the reigning MVP, you used to have to go over to Sid’s gym all summer long. It was the older one, you spent all this money for the new upgraded one. Now that you’re the MVP does he have to come train with you? How does that work?

A: No, no, it doesn’t work like that *laughs* (You’re still getting bullied?) Oh yeah. Still going to his gym. All good. He’s 20 years in the league, so… Yeah. I train with Batheson so I make him come to my gym. He makes me feel better about myself, so… that’s what I do.

Q: What did you say to Sid when he took 8.7, did you know that was coming?

A: Yeah, I mean *laughs* I remember, like, in July I was like, man, you’re not gonna sing for 8.7. Like c’mon. He’s like, ah, I don’t know, we’ll see. It’s so cool though, the legacy he’s leaving. How much money is left on the table and his desire to still win. He’s still taking less to try and get somebody else this year and next year.

Q: As somebody who’s always looked up to him, he’s 37 now, he’s still doing it. That’s gotta not only amaze you but also kinda inspire you a little bit. Does that surprise you that he’s still doing it or not at all, knowing him?

A: Man, you should see this guy in the summer. My workouts are like a joke. The recovery summers I do, and he is just grinding. He just grinds. He loves it, I think. I think it’s also awesome, not that he wouldn’t be motivated having this Four Nations thing, and then the Olympics. So no matter what happens, he’s got two things to look forward to and be dialled in for and I think being the captain of Canada, I can’t imagine the pressure to be at your best. He’s ready. He looks amazing, All the guys on the ice, it’s amazing he’s 37. He doesn’t look 37.  (Because he doesn’t have kids!) *laughs* Must be the key.

Q: Did you actually have a cereal released in 2021 called MacKinnon Crunch?

A: I did. Frosted flakes. I picked the flavour though, I liked that. (Was that right before you got your deal with Tim Hortons, became a server at their restaurant?) That was 2015. (Do they have you do that same thing every summer?) We haven’t done that since then. We’ve always wanted to do one where we get Marchy in there just because we’re Nova Scotians, and he’s being a rat and messing up people’s orders, and we gotta like sit him down and tell him what to do. They haven’t done that yet. Marchy needs to be nicer on the ice to be more marketable.

Q: Would that be your dream line for the Four Nations? Yourself, Sid and Marchand?

A: That would be cool. (You’d play the wing?) Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m ready for the wing. Definitely. McDavid, Sid, one-two punch. And then everyone kinda figures it out. (In a room like that you’d essentially delegate to McDavid?) You’re not putting McDavid on the wing, that’s crazy! I don’t mind right wing, I’ve played wing, I’m comfortable there and I don’t know if those two have ever played wing. I’m sure they could easily figure it out. They’re two of the smartest players ever. But I think to have those two guys a one-two punch and then if I’m third line centre that’s cool, if I’m playing on McDavid’s right.

Should I tell Sid to go to the wing, do you think? (“I’ve been working at your gym all these years. I’m the Ted Lindsay winner and the MVP. I gotta get something out of this relationship.”) Yeah, I think he could be 50 and I’d still slide over. No problem. Being on a Nova Scotia line it would be really cool. I think we’d work well together too. The way Marchy plays he’s just gonna muck, forecheck, and then Sid’s Sid, and I can try to push the pace.

Q: You said you went to Europe this summer…

A: It’s just relaxing. Just get off the grid. I was definitely tempted to go to Worlds last year. Sid was bugging me and Schenner bout it. (Saying what, if you go, I’ll go?) Yeah. So we were all gonna go, but then I was just like man, I just played 105 games, just lost to Dallas. At this point I feel like I’m all in or it’s hard to go over there and like (Skate around and giggle.) It’s just tough.

Q: You skated in the summer with Marner, how’s he looking?

A: He looks awesome. You hear stuff that’s always negative, a lot of the time it’s negative and then you get on the ice with him and you’re like, how can anyone ever be negative about this? That’s why I think for me, I just admire how good he is because people chirp him a lot. Up in Vail he was sick. Him and McDavid were flying around together. It was so fun to watch.

Also, beloved health freak <3

I used to like going to Popeye’s Supplements as a kid with my dad and looking at protein powder and stuff. I don’t know. I’m just into it.

Q: We heard so much about you policing the food in the locker room. Are you still doing that? Are you still going on there, like no sugars, no sweets. Whit said you strangled Lehkonen because he ate a Snickers bar or something. Is that true?

A: Nawww, stop it. That’s not true *laughs* I’m trying to mellow a little bit for sure. I definitely see some shit and I get mad but I try to keep it to myself. I don’t know, you eat what you want but I just think when you’re at the rink, we’re the NHL, you’re a pro athlete, I think it should be healthy and good food. I just think the least you can do as a pro athlete is be in good shape.

[mkkk12345]

Mishaps in the potionology classroom

Malleus x reader

A late-night tutoring session turned into a night of frantically looking through textbooks and babysitting a baby dragon. 

We all know what started this, I would die for this little guy he’s precious, no spoiler warning cos I’m not on JP server lol. 

2K words

----

What were you going to tell Lillia? How well will Silver take this? How is Sebek going to kill you? These were the questions that floated through your mind as you held a baby dragon prince in your arms. What were you going to do now… after an incident like this you were surely going to be on some fae hit list. 

It was an accident you swear, but that didn’t matter now did it, how impromptu tutoring session come to this? 

It all started when you asked Malleus for some assistance with your potionology class homework, you wouldn't normally ask someone like him who probably had something better to do than tutor you but it was late at night and you were desperate. You had spotted him out the window of your room in Ramshackle when the idea popped into your head. Ask him a few questions out the window and it would be over, right? 

Wrong. 

“Tsunotaro do you have a minute to spare?” you asked him as he turned his head up in surprise

As always he answered with a smile “Why yes of course I do, I always have time for you my dearest perfect.” relief flooded your features and you started to explain your situation.

“There are a few questions on this potionology homework that aren't clicking, I dont think it will take too long but would you like to come inside it's colder than I thought out there.” How could you resist, it was only the proper thing to do no? He is a prince after all, and it was indeed unusually cold out tonight it couldn't hurt to invite him into your dorm. 

You quickly rush to the door to let him in, guiding him to your room where Grimm was, as expected still sound asleep on your bed belly up snoring. “Please excuse him, you know how he is.” you sigh as he chuckled,

“Please don’t worry, now what did you need help with my dear” Your heart skipped a beat almost dropping the extra chair you were bringing over to your desk. 

Sitting down and clearing your throat you begin your impromptu tutoring session with Malleus “W-we’ll there's this part here-” 

With Malleus’s help, you quickly progressed to the last question but as you read it your eyes grew wide, how could you overlook this? “Using the recipe provided on page 324 of the textbook please recreate the potion you have been studying. Oh god, how did I miss Professor Crewel telling us about that in class?” you bury your face in your hands in defeat. 

Unbeknownst to you a smile grew on Malleuses face “Worry not child of man, shall we go to the potionology classroom? I’m sure even the spirits that roam the halls of the school would not dare to stop you if I came along.” 

“Is that really ok? I mean it's midnight we aren't even supposed to be out of our dorms at this time of the night.” lifting your head you looked at him with worry in your eyes. 

“You may place your trust in me, I shall take the fall if anything were to happen.” You sigh giving into desperation for a second time tonight. 

And that's how you were now stuck in the potionology classroom with a baby dragon frantically calling Grimm for help. Was it the best thing to do at the moment? No. But what else could you do? Calling a professor was out of the question, you could be expelled for something like this. Calling one of the other first years was also out of the question, you didn't want to drag them into this either.  So you went to your last resort, Grimm. 

“Y/N where are you do you know what time it is?” Grimm sleepy shouted into the phone. 

“Grimm I’m sorry for waking you up but I’m in a sticky situation right now, I’ll explain everything later but right now I need you to come down to the potionology classroom it's urgent-” Just then little dragon Malleus decided he was bored and wanted out of your arms, “Hey Tsunotaro stay still-” it was then that the little guy swung his tail up knocking the phone out of your hands and onto the floor, effectively ending the call. 

“Well at least that might get him to come over here quicker,” you sighed as you tried to wrangle Malleus to stay in your arms. “What are we going to do with you little Tsunotaro, I can only assume that what we made and accidentally splashed onto you was an age-reversal potion of some kind.” you held him out hands under his arms like someone would hold a long cat. 

A few minutes later Grimm slams the door open “Y/N, are you ok!” Grimm shouted out of breath from the long run over to the potionology classroom. 

“Yeah sorry to worry you Grimm, Tsunotaro made me drop the phone,” you said as you turned towards Grimm, bringing the little dragon closer to your body. 

With a confused expression, he cocked his head to the side and pointed at the little guy in your arms, “Is that?” 

“Yeah” Filling Grimm in on the situation you sat down on the floor and subconsciously began to play with Malleus’s little feet, petting him as if he were a cat. In your defense, he was cat-shaped and sized and he seemed to begin to relax in your lap as well. 

“So what do we do now?” Grimm asked now coming closer to the little dragon in your lap to get a closer look. 

“Well if you could pass me that textbook and help me look for a solution to this before anyone finds out that would be great.” You looked at him with a tired smile. 

A few minutes had passed and Grimm walked over to you and pulled at your sleeve too afraid of what would happen if the sleeping dragon in your lap woke up. He looked up at you and back down to the textbook in his hand pointing at a particular sentence in the page. You quietly read it aloud “There is no way to reverse the effects of the potion, the amount of time the potion is in effect is determined by the amount of potion the individual comes in contact with.” you sighed in relief,  from what you could tell only a few drops had landed on him. “Judging by the table here he should be back to normal in a few hours,” you finally allowed yourself to release the breath you were holding. Now looking back down at little baby Malleus in your lap you could finally take in how absolutely adorable he was, his tiny wings, those eyes that were slightly disproportionate to the rest of his head, the way he squished his little head into your stomach. Looking back up at Grimm you smiled “Ok let’s clean up the evidence and go back to Ramshackle to get some rest, we might have a little explaining to do tomorrow.”

Somehow you and Grimm had managed to get back to ramshackle without incident and without waking the sleeping dragon in your arms. Upon entering the dorm Grimm spoke up “So where are ya gonna put baby Tsunotaro for tonight? Because I am not giving up my spot in bed.” Grimm stood defiantly in front of your shared bed. 

“Grimm please dont be stubborn, it's just for one night, plus he is the future ruler of the Briar Valley, who knows what hitlist the fae will put us on if he gets mad” You stare at Grimm with a fearful expression (fake of course but Grimm doesn't have to know that). And with that, the three of you were off to bed. Although things might have turned out in Grimm's favor because for the rest of that night every time you weren't holding little Malleus in your arms, he would whine and make a fuss until you would take him back into your arms against your warm body for cuddles. 

As per usual the next morning you awoke to your alarm clock blaring from the bedside table. As you groaned you attempted to move to turn the wretched thing off but instead, you were met with the realization someone was holding you, preventing you from moving. “Allow me a few more minutes of bliss please dear.” a husky low voice borderline growled into your ear as one of his arms reached over you to shut off the alarm clock. 

“Malleus?!” this is not what you were expecting to wake up to this morning. You thought you would wake up with a tiny little dragon in your arms if your calculations were correct, maybe the potion didn't work as well on fae? You thought as you stared up at his handsome face who stared back at you. 

“Yes, my dear prefect? Is something the matter?” he looked at you inquisitively, surely he didn't think this was normal right? To wake up and just be cuddling with someone?

“Ah well um I just thought I would be waking up to a little dragon this morning.” you laughed awkwardly as you tried to relax in his hold. 

“Worry not, a potion as weak as that would not have such an effect on me. Oh or are you perhaps disappointed at the fact you no longer get to see me as an infant? Lilla has told me I was quite cute back then.” he chuckles as your red face burying yourself in the sheets. 

“He isn't wrong, you were very adorable,” you spoke softly from under the sheets.

Malleus then suddenly pulled your body closer to his, ”Am I no longer cute now dear? Oh how you wound me” he spoke as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. 

If you thought you were red before, now you were probably even redder than Riddle's hair “Well I… I think your quite handsome now…” you whispered as your hand moved to stroke his hair. “Not that you weren't handsome before this or anything! I just-” 

“Will you two get a room or something?! Can't a cat get some extra sleep before class without lovey-dovey fools realizing feelings so loud?!” Grimm shouted as he got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom “Geez, not even one day of peace in this damn dorm.” he grumbled under his breath before slamming the door shut. 

And with that, the two of you burst into a fit of laughter enjoying one another warmth under the covers for a little while longer before getting ready for school yourselves. 

“Hey isn't your dorm going to go into a panic looking for you this morning?” You asked Malleus from the bathroom as you got dressed. 

He responded with a chuckle “Worry not, Lillia came to find me earlier this morning. The only one I would worry about is Sebek.” he spoke with a smirk on his face. 

Back in Diasomnia

“WAKA SAMAAAAAAAA HAS ANYONE SEEN WAKA SAMA,” a certain green hair crocodile was currently screaming his head off as if someone had died. 

The usually sleepy silver-haired boy crossed his arms and shook his head at the sight, “It’s going to be a long morning.” 

All the while the pink-haired ​​vice house warden was laughing his head off at the sight of the chaos occurring. 

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 8

content warning: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI, thigh riding 😙, thigh fucking 🤪, public indecency??? exhibitionism???, katoptronophilia aka mirror sexy time (thanks for the word jelly 🪼), just overall a really good time

word count: 4.4k, not proofread (we're only gearing up to what I assume will be another giant chapter 😷)

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GymRat!Miguel who does some sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and leg raises in place of the gym. You watch him while you wait for room service, encouraging him from the side. Your presence was especially needed during the sit-ups when you sit at his feet, holding them down and giving him kisses when sits up.

GymRat!Miguel who sings loudly in the shower after his workout. You have to answer the door with an apology as the server laughs at Miguel belting out Britany Spears.

GymRat!Miguel who finally decides to respond to his texts. He’s had enough time to cool off and your presence was like a calm breeze, kissing away at his skin.

He discards his empty plate, placing it back on the cart. You’re still chewing away at some fluffy pancakes, enjoying the views of the high-rise hotel as the default channel played soft jazz.

GymRat!Miguel who lays in your lap while you eat some fruit. He has his phone in his hands ready to type, but he opens his mouth, silently begging for you to feed him grapes and pineapple chunks.

He hums to himself happily when you comply, combing a hand through his hair. He felt so peaceful like this. Serene.

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as he opens the message app. Here we go.

Abuela 💕:

“Abuela I’ll call you tonight”

“And there will be no babies. Not now”

“There better not be!”

Pa:

“Gracias pa”

“I’m glad you were able to meet her”

“She means a lot to me”

“I can tell”

“Mijo you pack a big punch!”

“Uno más!!!”

“You got that from me 👍🏽”

“Sure did pa 😭”

Gabri 🤡🤏🏽:

“You’re such an instigator”

“It’s not instigating. It’s reporting 😌”

“‘It’s reporting ☝🏽🥸’”

“Shaddap”

“You think I’m letting a member of the robotics team bully me?”

“You have perfect pitch and play the saxophone”

“You’re not winning this battle”

“Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining my girl? 🤨”

“Direct this clown act to her”

“Not sure how she puts up with it but I’ll free her soon”

“Stfu”

“A real man would be doing OTHER things but I digress”

“Did you really have to send a pic”

“You hate me”

“It’s clear to me now”

“Anyway what’s this about Tyler punching things”

“OHHHHH”

“He got him good”

“Square in the face”

“A bloody mouth to match his nose”

“TWINEM”

“Good”

"Pa said he granted me the ability to punch"

“He can dream on about that”

“Because where tf is my strength 😒”

"He punched Tyler before"

"Your time will be soon"

"😕"

"Also Ik about Nancy cheating already"

"Tyler told me in high school"

"I didn't want to be the one to tell Kron"

"Ur better than me"

"I would have told him that after that punch"

"YOUR MOM IS A HOMEWRECKER!"

"That's not what that means but ok"

Dana:

“Does your bf know you’re lusting after others?”

“Not if you don’t tell 😙”

“….I don’t think I want to give you her number”

“You’re perfect for Gabri”

“You’re both unbearable”

“What’s unbearable is I’m not talking to your gf rn”

“It’s too many O’Haras”

“Too much testosterone”

“SAVE ME MIG’S GF”

“MIG’S GF SAVE ME!!!”

Dad….Tyler:

“It’s ok. For what it’s worth, I can tell that you had good intentions.”

“Gabri told me what happened”

“I apologize for acting out of order and punching your son, but I couldn’t let him disrespect my girlfriend and my mom. No matter how difficult she may be, I’m the one who should tell her about it. Not him.”

"I completely understand that. You did what you thought was right, and that's far more admirable than what Kron did."

"In another reality, you and Kron could get along. For now, I will aim for cordial. I will make sure that he apologizes to you, your girlfriend, and Conchata."

"I don't want an apology if it's not genuine."

"Let's move on from that. You said you wanted to make it up to me? I saw that you added more dates to the hotel. Thank you for that, you didn't have to."

"Yes! If you are willing, I would love for you and your girlfriend to meet with me. I actually arranged something for you, Gabriel, and your girlfriends. I want to hear your input before I finalize the details."

"Sure thing. Is this afternoon ok?"

"That's perfect. I'll see you then."

Ma:

Read: 11:10 AM ✓✓

“Ugh,” Miguel groans, shutting his phone off and closing his eyes.

You stop rubbing his hair and look down, “What’s wrong?”

Miguel grunts as he moves your hand to continue, “My mom wants me to come home. Not sure if I want to do that right now. Not unless I know she’s ready to be accountable for once, which I highly doubt.”

You hum in understanding, “She’s still your mom, though. You’ll have to see her eventually.”

“My mom or not, she had no right to talk to you the way she did,” Miguel said reaching his hand up to your face. “It was cruel and…strange coming towards you. She doesn’t know you. Not yet, anyway.”

It’s not like she was trying to know you, either. Miguel seemed to understand this in your silence.

“I have to go grab some clothes so she might just get her wish,” Miguel says, turning his head towards your stomach.

You look down at him, “You don’t have to. Today is my last day here.”

“Well, lucky for us, Tyler extended the stay for a few more days,” he grinned. He started to move your shirt to fondle your skin.

Your stomach twitched as his breath brushed your skin. He started to kiss along your front, head disappearing under your sweater. He hummed as he started to tug at your underwear with his teeth.

“Hey,” you say, watching his head moving around through the material. “Stop that and finish talking.”

You pulled your sweater up to reveal him, his teeth still holding the band of your panties and eyes like a cat that got caught.

He let the band go close to your stomach so it wouldn’t snap, “This visual is making me forget everything.” His eyes are heavy and wandering.

You look to where he’s looking to see that you’re essentially flashing him.

You drop your shirt in embarrassment, letting out a sound of panic.

“No, no, baby let me see.”

“No, you’re at such a weird angle.”

“All art must be viewed up close and personal.”

Miguel sat up from your lap. He watched as you huffed and pinched the neckline of your sweater, moving it for air.

"You're so confident from afar, but when I'm near you like this, you get so shy. Even in public, you can be so bold. It's just you and me here."

"It's just," you watch Miguel as he crowds your space. His mouth goes behind your ear to press his lips into your skin. "I don't know. It feels like...more when it's just us. More real."

"Does it not feel real when we're in public?"

Miguel sits back, eyes wondering to yours. There's a pinch in his eyebrows, so faint you almost miss it.

"It does! That's not what I mean."

"Then, what is it? Tell me. Talk to me."

"I want to do more with you."

"But?" Miguel holds your hands in his, stopping you from picking at the loose threads of the sweater. He rubs them with his thumbs, itching to pull you closer.

"But, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could pass out. I get overwhelmed and nervous. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. It gets harder to control myself. I feel crazy."

Oh.

Oh.

"Then there are moments when my brain fools me into thinking that you don't like me in the way that I like you. Moments when that girl from not so long ago comes back, ashamed of herself and her body. A small part of me that thinks you could date anyone else and you're settling."

Miguel takes a moment to process your words.

He takes a breath, then opens his mouth.

"You really don't understand how much you affect me, do you?"

Miguel pulled you in his lap, fed up with this charade.

You grip his shoulders, steadying your balance with how fast he grabbed you.

"Miguel-"

"I don't know everything that your last boyfriend did to you and I don't know everything that you've experienced because of your body. Baby, I don't even know what you've seen all this time to make you think you're not worthy of love and respect, but I'm here to squash it."

"I meant it when I said that I love you. I'll learn it in a hundred languages just to remind you. I'll even tattoo it on my forehead for you to be reminded of it every single time you see me."

"I don't think you need to go that far," you say, eyes warm.

"No, I think I should. Anything for you to understand me. Anything for you to see you like how I see you."

"Letting out my deepest darkest secrets here, but do you know what I did when we first met?"

You shake your head, curious.

"I had a dream about you that was so good, I fell out of my bed. Peter never lets me live it down."

"A sweet dream?"

"Now, you and I both know it was more than that. Two cold showers should answer your questions."

You hide your face in his neck, heartbeat drumming through you, "Did you really?"

"Hand to heart. I understand your feelings. I acknowledge them too, but I need you to understand mine as well. Trust me when I say that you are unbelievably sexy. I love you and your body. My eyes caught your appearance before I came to know your personality. Anybody would be lucky to have you, but I'm the luckiest because you chose me."

Miguel hugged you close and kissed your head.

"Now let's rewind. You said you feel crazy when you're close to me?"

You groan in his neck.

"Uncontrollable? Heated?"

"Miggy, stop."

"My girlfriend is head over heels for me," Miguel hummed as he rubbed his hands down your naked legs. "She wants to ruin me."

"No, I don't."

"She's still wearing my clothes with nothing underneath but her panties and is leaning all over me. Her thighs are around my waist and she just told me that she wants me."

"You put me here," you lean up and stare at him. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were dewey.

"She's looking at me like she's upset, but now I know that her heart is going crazy. I want to kiss her."

"Then do it," you whisper.

The kiss is sweet, the taste of fruit and syrup still on your lips. You finally relax in his arms, body melted against his. His hands slip under your sweater, dancing over your back. Your skin is soft and warm, a blanket over Miguel's figure.

The time where you two connect extends deeper and longer. You let your hands venture further than the nape of his neck, roaming until you brush across his chest. Miguel's breath hitched as your nails raked his nipple, chest jumping at the impact.

You break for a second, wanting to get air, but Miguel leans back in, desperate. He's whining, groping your body all over. His noises go straight to your core, twitching above him. He matches your pace, dragging your hips across his, reveling in how fast your body was reacting to him.

When he leans back, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He's breathing hard as he watches you.

"Can I take this off? Please," Miguel grips the bottom of your sweater, eyes pleading.

You bite your lip and slide the sweater over your head, dropping it to the bed. You bring your hands over the top of your chest, arms framing your breasts.

You can't look Miguel in the eyes, too shy, "Is this fine?"

Miguel's eyes almost turn as he watches you, so shy but so seductive. He reaches out to cup your breasts in his hands, groaning when they plush through his fingers.

"You're so," Miguel rubs his thumbs across your nipples, enjoying you twitching and gasping in his hold. "Fuck."

His gaze burned into you, hungry as you lapped his tongue around your nipples. You let out a whimper when you feel him pull your skin in, mouth hot. It doesn't beat his pleased hum, voice like a man finally getting relief.

He massages your vacant breast, movements getting harsher. His grip is like a vice making it harder for you to second-guess yourself.

You hiss and rake your hands through his hair, "B-baby, be careful."

"Lo siento, mi amor," Miguel says, kissing across your areolas. "'M sorry."

You find your breath, fighting to steady your voice, "You're on me like we didn't just do something earlier."

Miguel paused and placed his cheek on your chest, "Baby, I'm a virgin and a man, not a prude. With practice, I could go all day."

The thought of that has you tightening your legs around him, hips stuttering. Miguel shifts to pull you over his left thigh.

"Does that excite you, baby?" Miguel smirks.

You close your eyes and nod, hips rolling over his thigh, keening high as he hikes his thigh closer to your sex and grips your waist. His muscles feel so good against you, the sounds getting wetter and wetter with each swipe.

"God, you're so pretty like this," Miguel sighs. "My gorgeous girl."

Your movements are becoming more frantic, Migiuel's voice in your ears spurring you on. He was sucking into your neck, growling as you scratched against his shoulder blades.

"That's right, baby. Keep going. Use me to get off," Miguel helped your hips keep a steady pace, pulling at your briefs to a makeshift thong. The tightness of your underwear combined with his thigh and his voice sends you into overdrive.

"Miguel!" you sob, hands gripping his hair. Your body trembles as you squeeze your thighs around him, cunt pulsating around nothing but your underwear, release leaking onto his leg.

Miguel cooed as you dropped your weight against him, body limp and hips fluttering with aftershocks. You panted as you kept your head on his shoulder, willing yourself to calm down.

"Are you ok?" Miguel asks, kissing your temple, your ear, your cheek. He feels you nod into his skin, blissed out.

"I like how you called me the needy one and you're the one who came three times today," Miguel mumbled, laughing as you swatted at his pec.

"I already confessed what you do to me. This shouldn't be shocking."

"Didn't say that. 'M just happy you feel more comfortable around me. It's what I want." One last kiss to your face seals his joy.

You lift up on shaky knees, hands holding onto Miguel for dear life. Your thighs were still shaking and your underwear was ruined. Miguel's cock twitched at the essence that seeped onto his leg, watching as sticky lines dragged from his skin to yours.

He grabbed you by the waist with one hand and wiped at your slick with another.

He's about to swipe at it with his tongue until you stop him.

"Miguel! Don't do that," you say, flustered.

"What? I'm just enjoying the fruits of my labor," he pouts as you grab some napkins and clean off his hands and thigh.

"So close to eating you, yet so far," he sighs miserably. "One day."

You ignore him and look down at his erection, taking a knuckle and lining the side. It was your first time really paying attention to him down there, now that you weren't distracted by his advances.

"What about you?"

He twitched as you walked along his clothed shaft, pre-come leaking through the fabric.

"As much as I want you to continue, we have to get ready for today," Miguel jerks as you continue your ministrations with a pout on your face. "And, I need condoms if you want to take this any further."

"Not even a blowjob?" you peer at him with your deer eyes again.

Miguel took a deep breath, "I was right. You are trying to ruin me."

GymRat!Miguel who lets you know that Tyler wants to meet you both after you both have changed clothes for the day. Something about a surprise.

"I love surprises!" you say turning to Miguel with a smile on your face. "As long as it's nothing like last night. I think it'll be ok."

Miguel matches your smile and presses his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stops at his home briefly, trying to get in and get out. He manages to fill up his travel bag, drop off his laundry, and give Gabriel a heart attack all before his mom notices he's there.

"Where are you going?" Gabriel asks with his hand over his heart, headphones lopsided around his neck.

"None of your business, nosy."

"Uh, it kind of is my business. You think you're grown when you're really not."

Miguel rolls his eyes. He didn't really want to tell Gabriel, but sometimes he couldn't say no to him.

"We're going out to see Tyler. He has a surprise for us. He also said he arranged something for us including you and Dana."

"Oh shit! Ok. And if mom asks where you are?"

"Tell her I'll come by tomorrow. I'm spending the next few days with my girlfriend."

"Alrighty," Gabriel sing-songs, placing his headphones back on his head. "You kids be safe. Don't scare my girl away."

Miguel smacks Gabriel across the head and runs out the door before he can catch up.

GymRat!Miguel who just laughs at your face while you frantically unlock the car to let him in.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask, voice in a panic.

"A string bean is trying to attack me," he responds, giggling as Gabriel runs out of the house.

"I'm getting you back for that you oaf!" Gabriel yells as Miguel backs out of the driveway. He stops his anger to wave at you, which you return with a sweet smile.

"Baby, you're encouraging him."

GymRat!Miguel who guides you through the doors of a cafe that Tyler recommended. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his stark white hair and light clothing. The only semblance of color on him was his silver jewelry.

He sat there, typing away at his phone, oblivious to the people around him who found familiarity in his form.

"Dad," Miguel said, the word funny on his tongue. He tried to make an effort to refer to him as his father in public, something Tyler appreciated greatly.

"Son!" he got up and engulfed him in a hug, giving you a softer version afterward. "It's good to see you both."

"It's lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Stone," you say, giving Miguel a smile when he pulls your chair out for you. "Thank you so much for thinking of us after all that's happened. Thank you for paying for my stay as well, the hotel is very lovely."

"Anything for Miguel's loved ones," he smiles in a way that has a hint of Miguel. You feel better going into the rest of this meal.

GymRat!Miguel who almost chokes on his coffee before Tyler can finish his sentence.

"A yacht?!"

"Is it too much? I can do something else to your liking," Tyler frets, wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm not sure what all kids your age like nowadays."

"I've never been on a yacht. so I don't even know how to react," Miguel responds.

The two of them are sporting the same deer-in-headlights look.

"I'm sure it would be a great experience for all of us. If everyone doesn't mind, I'm sure we can get together and have a great time," you say, helping the two of them out. "Something nice to start the summer off."

"That's great! I will have everything ready by the beginning of next month then," Tyler says, mood lifting immediately. He was a lot like a golden retriever. "With that in order, I'd like to grant you this."

He takes his wallet out, reaching in to grab a card.

As he slides it across the table, your eyes grow big.

It's a black card with T. Stone pressed across the bottom.

"What's this for?" Miguel asks, staring at the card with building curiosity.

"You all need clothes for the trip, don't you?" Tyler asks. "And I'm sure you need more clothes to wear this week. Please take this, I don't mind. I trust you not to go overboard. I'll let you know when to give it back."

Miguel took the card in his hands, the weight of it heavier than any of his own.

"I guess it's time for a shopping spree," Miguel said, a smile growing on his face.

GymRat!Miguel who drives you straight to the mall. The windows are down as you both laugh and sing to the song on the radio. Miguel wishes he could record this moment, but for now, he dials it back to replay in his memory.

GymRat!Miguel who is happy to carry your bags and encourages you to buy more. Whenever you start to feel like you've gone overboard, he just whispers "black card" in your ear like a devil on your shoulder.

GymRat!Miguel who convinces you to walk around the name-brand stores. He did have Tyler's card, but he was also thoroughly watching what you gravitated towards. He locked away so many gift ideas for later.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you in the mirror of a shades shop. The both of you take pictures with coordinating glasses and you giggle as Miguel makes silly faces in some of them.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes your doll as you pick out outfits for him. He's smiling down at you as you put different shirts up to his body, mumbling to yourself as you make decisions. So pretty.

GymRat!Miguel who waits while you try on some clothes, giddy whenever you show him a new outfit. You managed to find clothes that coordinated with his and you're super excited about it.

"Close your eyes!" you yell through the door.

He does so and listens for you to walk out. After you take a while, he opens his eyes a little.

"Baby, no peeking," you chastise.

He huffs and waits a little longer.

"Ok. 1, 2, 3, open!"

His eyes land on you in a dress that hugs your curves like no other. Your chest fills out the top perfectly and seeing your stomach through the front is driving him mad.

"Do you like it?" you turned around, giving Miguel a grand view of how your ass was sitting in the dress.

"Do the dressing rooms have a time limit?"

You blink at him owlishly, "No? Why?"

GymRat!Miguel who drags all of your bags and you back inside of the dressing room with lightning speed. As soon as he locks the door, he's attached to your lips, kneading at your ass and hips.

You gasp in his mouth, shocked at how fast he's moving.

"Miguel, what- oh," you sigh as he leans down and pulls your dress up, face buried in your neck.

"You look so good, mi amor. I can't help it."

GymRat!Miguel who almost cums when you pull his dick out. Your eyes grow along with his erection, watching as he twitches in your hold. You've never taken anyone this big and from your hesitance, Miguel can gather this much.

"We don't have to do anything. In fact, you don't have to do that here," he pants.

"You mean take you down my throat?" you ask, running your thumb over his head, watching in awe as liquid seeped out. Miguel bit his hand to quiet his moans. "I'll wait until we're somewhere more private and less noticeable that I'm on my knees for you."

Miguel looks at the open space under the dressing room door, "Yeah that's probably for the best."

GymRat!Miguel who places you in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your dress is bunched up and Miguel is rocking his cock in between your thighs.

He's bent down, biting lightly on your shoulder so that he doesn't shout. Your thighs were so warm and plush against him and his pre-cum was spewing out of him like a fountain.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he moans a little too loud after a few minutes.

GymRat!Miguel who watches you in the mirror. Your tits were so close to slipping from the top of your dress, the impact from his hips jerking your entire body. He grabbed at both of them, watching as you moan at the contact. His slaps got louder and louder, milky fluid running down your legs.

GymRat!Miguel who is overcome with need when you turn and run your tongue across his earlobe. He convulses as his release spurts across the room, landing on the mirror. He grips your hips and breathes hard into your skin, the tempo of his heart moving quick.

You pat his head and praise him, heavy eyes following your hand as you rub his tip that's still rubbing through your thighs. He whines, sensitive, but not moving away from you.

GymRat!Miguel who wipes you down carefully with some wipes you have in your purse. Luckily you both haven't ruined yet another pair of underwear.

He kisses you softly when he finishes, little confessions of love traveling from his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who checks the dressing room one last time, making sure he's gotten any evidence of his removed from the area. Your green dress is in his arms and you've changed back to your outfit.

The area is clean, but there are fresh hickeys on your neck, something he got carried away with.

GymRat!Miguel who walks out like nothing happened. You on the other hand, hand over some extra clothes you didn't like to a worker in slight embarrassment. He eyes you both with a look of horror.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you Auntie Anne's in the crowded food court. You hum happily after each bite. He dusts cinnamon off the corner of your lips with a smile.

GymRat!Miguel who moves from dusting to leaning across the table to lick the crumbs off when a table full of guys keeps eying you.

"What was that for?" you asked, oblivious to the hound dogs around you.

"Nothing. I just love you, baby."

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I got a very useful lesson on condoms and BJs while writing this chapter. It won't ever be applied to this fic, BUT it was still kinda fun nonetheless.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! Leave a like, a reblog, and COMMENTS if you did!!! 🩵

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@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative

[leopardom]

so you happened to miss the live Q&A with Nace and Bojan on the Joker Out official discord server yesterday? worry not, i got you covered

Souvenir Pop Discord Listening Party - Q&A with Bojan and Nace ✨

questions are in bold and are all from discord

quotation marks are being used for all the the word-by-word answers by Bojan and Nace

dialogues between Bojan and Nace, reactions and some worth-mentioning moments are in italics

there were some questions about touring to specific places again or for the first time. answers to all of them were vaguelly positive, so i didn't include them here

the whole listening party lasted about an hour and a half so this is a long read

{steaming Muzika Za Decu and Šta Bih Ja and waiting for Bojan and Nace to join}

Q: How are you doing after the album release? [missed Bojan's answer] N: "Feeling as usual - super bad" *joking about it with Bojan*, had to get up early to take Pino to the vet

Q: Which artists were your musical influences for Lips? both: The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey and Nick Cave

Q: How did you do the screaming kids in Muzika Za Decu? N: initial recordings were done with kids of their friends. after bringing the tracks to their producer, he asked for more voices so they recorded more with some kids from a music school in Kranj (Nace's hometown). Nace was present in all those recordings

Q: Do you have any vacation plans? N: most of them are going to Thailand again B: Thailand is "too far away to call it a vacation" so he's probably going somewhere closer to Slovenia

Q: Why is Carpe Diem ever so slightly diffrent? B: they remastered the song because they realised the mastering they had done already was a bit bad - "that's why it sounded like it came out of a toaster compared to other eurovision songs"

Q: Any TV series recommendations? B: Atypical, Narcos, Peaky Blinders N: Game Of Thrones Nace asks Bojan if he's watching anything atm and he says only some history stuff. Nace and Kris are watching Naked and Afraid religiously, and according to Bojan, "in the van, outside the van, in hotel rooms, everywhere"

Q: How do you choose what the next song will be about? Are there any criteria? B: "The songs just happen as they do, a storyline usually comes with the vocal melody [...] The story is never a fake thing, it's always something real so there is really no choosing more in a sense of like "we have a couple of songs and we choose which one we're gonna have" but it's not connected to what the song is about. More like "what the song sounds like and what kind of a vibe we wanna put out""

Q: What is your go to effect for your instrument/for some songs? N: only uses drive and tape echo

Q: Which song did change the most during the recording process? B: Lips *Nace agrees* - it started as a whole different song called J’taime and was supposed to be an english/french or slovene/french duet and also very rock n roll

Q: Are there any more tour dates coming? B: yes but they have nothing planned yet so it will take some time

Q: If you had to live somewhere for 6 months where would it be? both: London B: "If I had to go live somewhere for longer, I would go to Palermo"

Q: Why are your songs so good!? How do you never make bad music? B: "We do, you just don't get to hear it"

Q: Who is writing the weekly updates? N: all of them *Bojan gets confused for a moment and doesn't realise they're talking about the openstage weekly updates*

Q: Thought process during the making of the album? B: "It’s a clusterfuck" *banter about how they love and hate what they do while making an album*

{break to listen to Carpe Diem and Stephanie. Pino starts barking at the first few moments of Carpe Diem and then Nace and Bojan realise they need to close their mic for that section lol}

Q: (question for Nace) What strings/bass equipment are you using and if you have any small tips for bass beginners? N: tip - "the equipment doesn't matter, what matters is what you do with the bass. start with lighter strings and try to learn as many songs as you can" // he's using D’Addario and La Bella flat strings

Q: Which song took the longest to finish? both: Šta Bih Ja (they crashed the studio pc because of the number of takes they had to do)

Q: What was your music inspiration for Mesto Duhov? both: there wasn't some specific inspiration music-wise

Q: Which song did y'all think think would be the fan favourite?? N: Bluza [missed Bojan's answer here because my laptop ran out of battery lol]

Q: Nace, what is your screentime on your phone because you‘re online like every time N: 9h 23min today “because it was release day”, usually is around 3-4 hours (Bojan's is 3h)

*Bojan proceeds to yap about how he's learning spanish on duolingo*

Q: Ever thought of selling posters ? It's a lil less expensive way to support you and also propaganda both: no because it's difficult to ship and they get ruined in the process. they may think about posters as merch for concerts only

Q: Who played the piano in Sonce? B: it's written and played by Jan N: "One of Slovenia's best piano players, renowned..."

Q: What happend with Schlager? B: "Nothing happened to it, it's doing quite well, we had a chat yesterday and everything is going fine in Schlagerland, but it couldn't make it to the album. Didn't feel like it. Maybe next time"

Q: When you first made music did you expect it to reach people so powerfully that it created year lasting friendships and have people travel so far to see you live? B: no because they were used to the way things work in Slovenia (smaller distances and sometimes people don't even travel from one city to another even if they're around 20 minutes away from each other) so this was very new to them but they're happy to see it

Q: How is the new album going to affect the setlist? Will you still perform older songs? B: the whole third album will be performed on the upcoming tour and there will be some variations on the setlists regarding the songs from the previous 2 albums

Q: Is there any possibility to hear you singing in italian on next albums? B: there was an idea for this album but didn't work out

Q: Do you have plans for a spanish song? B: "There was an idea called "si me das in beso más" but didn't go through [...] because it was getting into a reggaeton-ish direction"

Q: Will there be a french song in the future? B: J’taime was supposed to be one but didn't happen

Q: What about Souvenir Pop fridge magnets? B: they're considering it (Nace adds that he'd love to have one)

Q: Best slovenian cuisine and best places to visit in Slovenia N: food - prekmurska gibanica // places - Bovec and Bohinj B: food - kranjska klobasa and žlikrofi (to represent Jure) // places - Bohinj, Postojna cave, Logarska Dolina

Q: Nace, which cruise ships did you play on? We would love to have Joker Out cruise gig in Finland! N: the cruise ship he worked on was AIDAbella (belongs to german cruise line AIDA Cruises), he was there for 6 months and the cruise was in the Baltics B: would love to do the cruise from Finland to Estonia "where everybody supposedly gets extremely smashed"

Q: Was the writing process of Stephanie different, because you have Žare as composer but not Jure? B: the percussions were computer-based drum loops so maybe that's why

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from? Or do you just wake up with it one morning? B: "(inspiration) is memories becoming visible in your own head" - they all have memories and impressions in their lives that just get triggered when writing a song

Q: How did you get the idea of making Lips? It has such a different vibe of all the songs you have B: Žare showed them the heartbeat that can be heard in the song, Bojan came up with the "put your lips on mine" line and proceeded to finish the lyrics on their way back home from Bucharest after Summer Well fest. it was basically Nace who turned the idea of Lips into a song music-wise

Q: Why did you decide to release stephanie so close before the album release? Was it the plan all along? B: apparently he didn't know the song was getting released, he just saw it on their instagram stories and rolled with it lol

Q: Does lyrics just pop into your head and then you decide the story or do you decide on a common theme/story the song is gonna have and then make the lyrics about that? B: usually there's an insistent thought in his head and he works around it

Q: What do you think of Baldies Out? Which song do you want us to cover next? context: Baldies Out is a group on instagram which posts - you guessed it - bald edits of Joker Out. occasionally there are covers of Joker Out songs, adapted with lyrics that fit the bald theme of the account B: they could cover Lips and turn the lyrics into "put your hair on mine" or Ako Toga Više Neće Biti "so it's a man who's going bald singing to his hair - it's a song between a guy and his hair" Bojan is frustrated because he looks very bad bald meanwhile Nace finds himself cool in his bald edition, Bojan too believes bald Nace looks cool, Nace jokes about shaving off all his hair and Bojan says he'd like to see that and proceeds to complement his beard and tell him he'd look "badass as hell"

Q: What's something you want to experience in life but haven't yet? N: see mount Everest/visit Nepal B: have a farm *banter with Nace: he'd like to have goats, chickens, a horse, rabbits, dogs, cats and a bull*

Q: Why did you choose the openers for the tour that you chose (I love them) B: the answer was in the question; they love them too

Q: Also Romania misses you guys, please come back next year B: they all loved Romania and Summer Well, he then mentions how he's not a fan of festivals as an attendand and has been to one for a couple of days only once when he was 18

Q: Are the cities at the end of the Bluza MV a teasing of a European tour? B: no, they were just cities on the old radio they used for the mv

{break to listen to Ako Toga Više Neće Biti and Bluza}

Q: Ruisrock next year?! B: they loved Ruisrock this year and would love to be back

Q: What are your favourite books, if you have any? B: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini N: he's currently reading The Creative Act by Rick Rubin

Q: What's your favourite Big Foot Mama songs? both: Buldožer, Led s severa, Neki sladkega

Q: Have you heard of the genre "midwest emo"? both: no (and they had to google it)

Q: What was the most cathartic song to write and why? B: Everybody's Waiting, Lips and Ako Toga Više Neće Biti

Q: What’s your fav Schlager (as in the German music)? N: mentions Semino Rossi and Ibo and the songs Ibiza (by Ibo) and Rot sind die Rosen (by Semino Rossi)

Q: Are there more songs like Muzika Za Decu & Mesto Duhov (more loud and rock) songs in the vault??? B: no, just these two

Q: Souvenir pop Vinyl/CD when? N: CDs will be available at the gigs but they're not sure when they'll be available online. vinyls will come around January/February

Q: What is your favourite memory from making the album? N: the recording of Ako Toga Više Neće Biti *Bojan agrees*

Q: Fav Finnish artists/bands you know? (Käärijä doesn't count) B: Sonny, Ville Valo *Nace agrees*, Sunrise Avenue and he loves the Blind Channel cover of Left Outside Alone (Nace says this is Bojan's guilty pleasure song) N: Pikku G

Q: When new merch? B: it's coming with the tour

Q: Would you like to receive Get Watermarked stickers next tour? context: it's a photo of Mark in a pool(or a hot tub i'm not sure) and someone edited the phrase "Get Watermarked" on it and turned it into a sticker for the sys tour both: they'd absolutely want one

Q: Do you often get stopped by fans on the street or any public places? Is there anything that irritates you? B: gets followed around often but people are not very invasive N: doesn't get stalked as much as Bojan and doesn't mind when fans stop him on the street

Q: Are you familiar with Käärijä's EuroPass on Kollekt and would you consider doing something similar in the future? B: they don't know what that is and "if it's good then we should consider it but if it's not good then we're not considering it"

Q: Tying onto the q before, restaurant reccomendations and favourite sight? Bojan's fave restaurant is Aftr and Nace's is Sushimama, they both agree that their fave sight is the Ljubljana castle

Q: I noticed you guys follow some of my fav musicians on instagram so i was wondering Nace what’s your favorite Declan McKenna song and Bojan what’s your favorite Greta van Fleet song N: Nothing Works B: doesn't have a fave GVF song, just likes the band

Q: What are the possibilities for JO (whether concert and/or meet and greet) in the US and/or the UK? both: they were supposed to play in NYC in May but it was a very last-minute thing and didn't manage to get working visas in time. they'll have a gig or more in the UK next year

Q: When you were at the Sziget festival, have you tasted hungarian foods? if yes, what was it? / when will be new products in the shop? B: has been in Hungary twice (once this year for Sziget and once as a child) but hasn't tried anything hungarian - ✨I love food no matter where it comes from. Hopefully the kitchen✨ N: new products will be online hopefully by the end of 2024 but they're not sure yet

Q: Is the concert in Novi Sad definitely happening? Due to the tragedy a lot of events have been canceled out of respect for the victims so there's been some rumors about it possibly getting canceled B: the concert will go on and the profits will go to the families of those who have lost someone and those in need

Q: Are you gonna come back to places you've already performed at during the EU tour, or maybe try to get to new cities? B: "A little bit of both"

Q: What's your fav spanish dish? both: paella

Q: How is the trumpet playing going? Will we see it on stage? B: trumpet playing is going great, will happen on stage at some point too

Q: Is there any connection between Mesto Duhov and the lyrics : "mesto polno je duhov" ? "mesto polno je duhov" is a lyric from Padam B: "There is no connection except for the connection that both of them were written by me and it looks like I have horrible imagination"

Q: Did any of you play any unexpected instruments for any songs? For instance we already know Nace has a guitar track and a drum track on the album but are there any other surprising credits? - Jan played lots of synths and bass on the chorus of Stephanie - Nace played synths and programmed the drums for Stephanie and Lips - Bojan played the drums for Ako Toga Više Neće Biti, bass on the verses of Stephanie and also did synths for Stephanie - Jure played piano for Bluza (???) all credits are written down on the album

Q: Any chance of coming back to Scotland next year? *they both chant "no Scotland no party"*

Q: Do you like BOOOM? both: yes N: he used to be their producer and worked with them on their first songs

Q: Can you give advice for young musicians like you? B: "Surround yourself with people you love and people who inspire you. Trust yourself. Always be critical to yourself but not to a point where you become self harmful"

Q: What do you value the most in life? B: health N: health and relationships

Q: What book could you recommend? Or if you can't choose one, what book are you reading now? B: The Kite Runner and The Alchemist (he then jokes about how Nace should recommend some Disney cartoon)

Q: Who had the idea using the piano for Sonce and who played the part? (I assume Jan but still) And can you upload the damn music sheet for it? I need to play this B: the idea about the piano was collective and if anyone wants the sheet music for the song, they should ask Jan for it

Q: If you had the chance to record and release a cover of a song of any of your favourite artists, which song would it be? *Bojan jokes about it being Gangnam Style* N: something by The Beatles, maybe Let It Be B: Silencio or Bulería by David Bisbal *starts singing Bulería*

Q: Nace, what is the best bassist joke you have ever heard? N: most of them are in slovene and he doesn’t say any B: "I think being the bassist is the biggest joke"

Q: How do you approach writing lyrics? Do you prioritize storytelling, imagery, or rhythm? B: prefers and prioritizes storytelling

Q: Which song do you personally find the most emotional and why? B: "Everybody's Waiting because it's like a very personal struggle song, Ako Toga Više Neće Biti because it's… a very personal struggle song" N: "Whenever I’m hearing Sonce I just get in this special state like I'm getting drown in a song and stop thinking about everything else"

Q: Assuming you’ll come back to The Netherlands in the future, is there another city you’d like to visit or a venue/festival you’d like to play? both: they'd like to play Pinkpop fest

Q: Would you ever like to hold a concert in Ukraine?? B: they'd love that and hopefully as soon as possible

Q: Will there be music videos for the new songs on the album? B: yes N: they're recording a new video soon apparently Bojan wasn't aware of that either lol

Q: Any Italian French or Spanish music that inspired you to try writing in those languages? Also Bojan you can pick two+ languages on duolingo and do them at the same time N: they we listening a lot to an italian song called Il mio canto libero, he loves Nek and he listens to a lot of french electronic B: he's listening to italian, french and spanish music a lot, he loves a song called Buona sera signorina (note: had to google this and maybe the title is actually Buona sera ciao ciao) both: they all like L'Impératrice and Bojan butchers the pronunciation of the band name

*at this moment Bojan finds out you can learn two and more languages on duolingo at the same time and proceeds to add italian to his account*

Q: 1 - What were some of the inspirations for Muzika Za Decu? 2 - Bojan can you tell us a dad joke? 3 - I just wanted to say that Lips should be a soundtrack of a movie B: party breakers *doesn't answer the second question because he's too busy doing italian on duolingo* both: they agree that Lips should be in a movie soundtrack

Q: Do you know when will you release the dates and the cities for the tour? I assume there will be a european tour for the new album N: there will be a european tour at some point next year and they will announce it "once Bojan stops learning italian" (Nace basically makes fun of Bojan doing his duolingo right at that moment)

{break to listen to Lips, Mesto Duhov and Sonce}

Q: Bojan would you try to sing Carpe Diem in estonian ever again? B: yes

Q: Can we expect a new concert intro for the tour for one of the new songs like the intro for Katrina and Gola? N: yes

Q: Is Bojan learning finnish in Duolingo? B: no, only spanish and italian

Q: Will there be a chance of a collab between Joker Out and Käärijä? B: hopefully one day

Q: Do any of you play chess? B: he and Kris play chess online, Kris less often than Bojan

Q: Will you pop a souvenir in Istanbul soon? N: they want to but have to find a date to reschedule the cancelled gig from this summer

Q: Have you visited any tourist attractions while in Bucharest? N: no and only he and Kris walked around the city centre for a bit while being there

Q: Nace, why did you bring four basses to the recording studio in Hamburg and did you record on all of them? N: one of those basses wasn't his and "when you're in the studio you just wanna have more basses"

Q: Is Pino the best boy in whole world? N: yes ❤️❤️❤️

Q: How do you guys decide to who to follow on insta? (for example fan pages,artists) N: they just follow the pages they like

Q: Apart from Nace and gluten, are there any things you all don't like or can't eat? B: he doesn't like tomatoes and is intolerant to avocado

Q: Do y’all notice Joker Out edits on TikTok? Do (did) you like them? N: he and Bojan don't have tiktok. Jure, however, is addicted to it

Q: Did you know that all of you are saving and changing peoples lives? B: "When we started doing music none of us could ever believe, or think even, that it could mean so much to someone as it does to a lot of you. Even though we went through so many different stages in a very short period of time, because our life changed so dramaticaly, I will say that the fact that you actually feel the music and it helps you in certain situations and hard times... I just want you guys to know that literally it means the same to us. The whole sharing of this energy is very real and we are trying to do our best to kind of make you know that we're here. And sometimes it's also hard for us because we're trying to tolerate our personal life and everything else with the music and with communicating with fans, but we appreciate it so dearly and we're happy that it's changing your lives and, just so you know, you're also changing our lives everyday. We're very, very honoured to have you on board with us and so thankful for all your help and all your enthusiasm, for all the love. You're incredible artists as well, we see the arts that you create daily - a lot of it is inspired by us which is also crazy and incredible so... Just a big thank you! And thank you to the Joker Out discord server, you're doing an incredible job, it's become so much bigger than what we ever expected. (thank you) to Joker Out Subs, all the groups that have been formed, as well as Baldies Out. I think it's a very big contribution to the bald Joker Out generation 💀😂. Just thank you so much!"

*Bojan presses something, gets lost in the server and both he and Nace are trying to figure out how to get back to the channel with all the questions (they succeed), they announce that an art contest will start (more info about that can be found on the latest-news channel of the official server) and Nace informs everyone he has to take Pino for a walk before saying bye to the chat*

end

[cursingtoji]

could you do sukuna and 27 for the clichés event? 👉👈

❛ 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮?❜ ┊ no one touches Sukuna's favorite

plus "Stay" ⊱ king of curses!Sukuna x fem maid!reader, blood, violence, reader is hurt, wc. 1k, The Clichés ™;

Sukuna wasn’t known for being gentle, he was mean and arrogant, sometimes serving him was not easy either, if anything was the hardest job someone can have, serving the king of curses.

Yet, against all odds, he took a liking on you, just another server.

He longed for the touch of your soft hands on his body when you applied herbs on his wounds, or when you dressed him. After a while he assigned you as the only one that didn't need permission to get in his chambers for your daily tasks.

That night you were just finishing setting his futons, as you did every night. Sukuna knew your schedule, the initial idea of a schedule was for him not having to find anyone inside his private room, but since he knew it was going to be you he even went in earlier to catch you there.

And there you were, you back turned to the door, and when you heard him coming in you bowed respectfully and kept your head low.

Sukuna didn't realize at first due to the hair covering your face, but once he noticed a strange shadow on your cheek he took one step, grabbed your jaw firmly but not roughly, and brought your black eye and bruised face to the moonlight.

“Who did this to you?” he inspected it. Often having a whole bunch of bruises himself, he knew that to be fresh, like it happened earlier that day or last night.

"L-Lord Sukuna, do not worry about this" you smiled and attempted to turn your head away from him but he didn't let you, not when such a beautiful face has been broken like that, to the point there was a tiny red spot in the white of your eye, indicating a broken blood vessel.

"I asked you a question" he pressed.

"There was an accident and—"

"Give me a name, woman" he was fuming, and as he’s your lord you knew there was no escape. Sukuna always gets what he wants.

"The c-chief of the maids" you murmured.

Sukuna didn't let go of your face immediately, he studied the fear in your eyes, having a weird gut feeling on seeing you like that. He brushed your hair away from your face and struggled slightly to let go of you.

Once he did, you found yourself trembling in the middle of the room, not sure if you should follow your lord or finish setting the bed so you wouldn't be punished again.

You opted for the latter, not sure what Sukuna's reaction would be if you interrupted his business, but after you did what you had to do you could only report back to your master.

The hallways of the Ryomen residence were quiet and dark, as you got closer to the single lighted up room a strong scent of iron filled the air. You pushed the door and the first thing you saw was the stain of a bloodied palm that had been dragged on the wall. Maybe you got a bit insensitive over the years of working for Sukuna but the first thing you thought was how troublesome it would be to clean that up. Your eyes were unable to find the body owned the blood due to Sukuna’s bloodied torso showing up in front of you, massive shoulders that didn't need to be too close to block your entire view.

"Lord Sukuna, are you hurt?" you placed your hands on his hot skin looking for any wounds.

"It offends me that you think a servant could hurt me" he gently turned you around leading you to his bathing room, where he knew a hot bath awaited for him.

Before he went inside the tub, you made him sit on a stool and dipped a cloth on the hot water using it to clean the blood off his body, Sukuna observed silently, not being over the bruise on your face, even after "dealing" with who caused it.

After he was cleaned you threw the cloth away and moved to leave the room, yet he called you back.

"Stay" he ordered, when you turned around he was undoing the clothes that covered his lower half, you turned back flustered. Even though you have been his personal maid for a few months, you only entered his bath room when he rang the bell and left when he dismissed you.

"Come closer" he called while sitting at the edge of his ofuro, now with a towel wrapped around his waist as he reached for the jars where the healing herbs and oils were kept to treat infection and inflammations.

"I thought you weren't hurt, sir" your voice was of concern.

"It's not for me" he mixed the contents on his palm and used a finger to spread it on your bruised cheek and nose. The scent made your eye water, "It'll dry in a few seconds" he ran a thumb under your eye, preventing a tear from running down and ruining the medicine.

"Thank you, lord Sukuna" even while sitting he still hovered over you.

"I want you to quit" he demanded.

"What?!" your breath hitched, this job was everything you had.

"Quit being my maid and become my wife" no words left your open mouth as you scanned his face for any signs of insincerity.

"Me? But sir, what would the rest of the staff think?"

"I don't care, I'll fire them all if you want" he rubbed your chin, "Kill them if I must…" Sukuna observed your eyes widened, but a certain gleam in them made him wonder if you truly wanted that "I won't take no for an answer" he brings you closer and you smile, tilting your head.

Truly, Sukuna always get what he wants, even if what he wants is making a wife out of his servant.

See also: bodyguard!Nanami

[01zfan]

muscle memory | p. wb

waiter!wonbin x waitress!reader | 5.9k words

WONBIN ANON(S) THIS ONE IS FOR Y’ALL!

contains: random idols mentioned for world building, semi-public sex, unprotected sex

you sat next to the pass waiting for the food you ordered for your table to be put out. it was ironically one of the few areas in the restaurant where you could gather your thoughts despite objectively being in the middle of all the chaos. this was the one place in the restaurant where you could actively see all moving parts in the restaurant coming together. next to the pass was also the personal dining room of you and your coworkers, the designated spot where discarded food was up for grabs. so you basked in the organized chaos of your restaurant while eating almost cold parmesan aioli fries.

from your seat on your barstool you could see the cooks in the open faced kitchen work preparing people’s food. you could see the fire coming to life in their woks, and how they didn’t flinch away. you could hear them yelling out terms and phrases to eachother about dishes. you perked up when you heard the items of the dish you were waiting for be called out. you looked down the line quickly, but went back to your slouching position when nothing you needed was there. 

you sat there eating the discarded food, half focused on putting something in your empty stomach while half focused on the sounds around you. you waited to hear the signature ding of a new dish being done, but all your ears could pick up was the sound of more tickets being printed and the low-volume music playing in the kitchen. if you got close enough enough and if it was loud enough you could sometimes recognize the words and sing along. you had built up a rapport with them that way, singing along to their songs and passing along compliments from the customers. when they were feeling generous enough, they would even prioritize your staff meal and actually make your on the fly items quickly.

you couldn’t decipher the song in the kitchen. it was drowned out by the million other sounds happening around you. you heard your fellow server yelling into the kitchen about something being made wrong. you looked up to see it was giselle, nearly sitting on the pass to lean as far as she could into the kitchen. any argument she tried to start failed. you knew it would be forgotten after closing, but in the moment it seemed intense. curses were being thrown over the wall on both sides and made it down the line. you wondered if you would have to call for shotaro to mediate the situation, but everyone seemed unbothered as they continued with their job. in less than a minute, giselle was handed her food and she had a smile on her face as she made her way back to the dining room. after seeing the exchange, all you could do was shake you head and go back to your fries.

you had learned a long time ago to stand off to the side when altercations happen. you only recently got in the good graces of most the people you worked with. the last thing you needed was to be put on someone’s shit list for rightfully asking for your food to be ready, or to ask them to calm down.

that was a big problem you developed working here. becoming fine with getting the short end of the stick. if anton sat a seven-top, two five-tops, and three two-tops in your section you only smiled and nodded your head. if someone asked you to come in for them even if you didn’t want to, you said yes. if one of your coworkers asked for your helped even if you were swamped you ran twice as fast to make sure you could save them. you never dared to yell, stomp your feet, or say no. you took it as penance for no other reason than simply existing. you knew everyone was aware of your pushover personality, you just hoped eventually they would give you grace.

normally, you would’ve set your foot down by now, at the very least set up boundaries for your coworkers on what they could ask for. you practiced the speech a million times, each one unique to the unfair things your coworkers would ask for. anton it would be about sitting too many big parties in your section. giselle would be how she rushes too much. winter would be about her laziness when it comes to being on the pass. sungchan’s would be that he helps too much, making you feel inferior at your job. but you keep it all at bay for penance, to make yourself pay for how you unfairly judged your perfect coworker.

you had been hired at the company two months ago. it was hard to navigate at first, having to swallow your pride from not finding a job in your career field. any shame you felt melted after hearing their were multiple “young professionals” at your job. you were even more excited to hear that there was actually someone else with the exact same degree as you, and seemingly went to the same school as you. before you could ask any questions the interview went on, and any questions about other people cleared your mind when you got the job.

when wonbin almost ran into you on your first day, you dropped all of your drinks. it came as a surprise, seeing a face you hadn’t seen in so long. he was different, his black hair that never touched his ears went past his chin now, and he was faster on his feet. he also was the apodeictic leader of the waitstaff, earned through his lack of mistakes, ability to speak his mind, and being a guest favorite. in that moment it became clear who the person that had the same major as you was, and it was too late to quit. you had gotten a taste for the money, and this was the only job on the market that would hire you. 

so you stuck through it, swallowing your pride each time wonbin helped you correct a mistake or appease an angry customer. you were grateful for the help, and to have someone who knew what they were doing by your side. something would randomly hit you like a pang in your chest realizing wonbin was better at this than you. all the times you bested him in school seemed to pale in comparison to this, something that actually mattered.

while you were with your trainer sungchan you were distracted, keeping an eye out for wonbin so you could ignore his gaze. what bothered you even more was the fact that wonbin was unbothered. with an exception for the first time he saw you, everything was business as usual with him. he was nothing like the wonbin you used to know, who was petty and didn’t let things go. this wonbin didn’t bring up your past to you or anyone who asked how you two knew eachother. this wonbin only simply said you two went to school together, greatly undermining the time you two together. 

working with wonbin took weeks to get used to. they were slow steps forward, finally making it out of the initial awkwardness to exchange pleasantries. 

you finally were able to have a conversation with your coworkers while wonbin was present. before you would simply go silent when he came around, avoiding eye contact when he would ask you a question directly. 

the conversation was what it normally was during slow mornings, complaints regarding work. you had to spend a ridiculous amount of money on the uniform with no help from upper levels of management. sungchan and giselle shared your complaints, even talking about how later down the line you would have to pay for dry cleaning.

“what would you suggest to fix the situation?” wonbin asked.

it was a question directed at you, unavoidable as wonbin titled his head. you thought for a moment before keeping eye contact with wonbin.

“they could have designated days of the month where they take all of our stuff to dry clean for cheap.” you reasoned.

you felt your heart pound in your chest as you held eye contact with wonbin. you were expecting a rebuttal from him, from anyone before you saw sungchan nod his head.

“there’s discounts for bulk at that place a couple blocks down.” giselle said.

“they could also pay us for buying parts of our uniform.” you added on.

”that would be a dream.” sungchan said.

all of you nodded in agreement before dispersing to get back to your jobs. wonbin hesitated for a second, and your own steps faltered. but he only cleared his throat and went his separate way to tend to a newly sat table.

within two says, there was a list pinned to the corkboard wall for dry cleaning. three times a month, designated days were listed neatly. you already saw a few names, wonbin’s at the very top. you also saw a stack of new waiter aprons and a request sheet to fill out for missing or replacement uniform pieces. you looked around in the break room, feeling angry burn in your chest and eyes. you were hostile the rest of the day, taking it out of your coworkers and customers that were snappy to you first. you didn’t let it out until you caught wonbin in the back of house, sitting in the managers chair as he collected his tips. the anger surged through your fingertips and your feet, causing you to stomp into the room.

“really wonbin?” you called out.

he seemed confused, looking up from his money to your frown.

“what?” wonbin asked.

“i get that this is the first time in your life probably being in a higher up position, but that doesn’t give you the right to claim them as your own.” you quietly yelled.

wonbin sat in the chair, staring at you in shock while your chest finally loosened. the shock and confusion was replaced anger of his own, and you could see wonbin take a deep breath before leaning back in the chair. he looked at you with a calm and even expression now, your exact opposite. he turned in his chair to go back to counting the money.

“i see you haven’t changed one bit.” he said simply.

somehow, that hit you harder than any insult could’ve. it had you averting your gaze from wonbin again, focusing on stacks of paper and the sound of the printer. he said nothing else to you, just letting you bask in the shame of your anger. 

when you turned tail to leave you were face to face with a manager, thanking you for your smart idea about the dry cleaning.

“hands please!” winter yelled down the pass.

you snapped up from the barstool, swallowing the week old memory and the stale food so fast it felt like a lump in your throat. you wiped your face with the back of your hand before using a wet napkin to clean your fingers. 

you made a straight line for winter working on expo while pinching your server apron between your fingers to dry them. winter’s piercing voice was like a bat signal for the servers, when she spoke suddenly everyone was there. sohee pushed open the two-way door from the kitchen to come to her, with sungchan trailing close behind. eunseok and seunghan were lucky they didn’t have to worry about friday nights, but they had their own personal hell on sunday mornings. 

winter handed off everyone’s dishes one by one. you saw more and more people rush off as they had the orders they needed. you waited patiently for winter to hand you the plates. 

by the time almost everyone else was gone, you were left with your ungarnished plates.

“i’m swamped, and desserts are coming out soon. can you finish this off for me?” winter asked.

winter posed it as a question and you knew you could say no, but it felt like an order. she barely finished her sentence before she was moving back down the pass, tearing the tickets off to impale them on the metal spindle next to your fries. the pass was empty, and winter relaxed on the barstool to eat your food. 

your response to winter sat at the tip of your tongue. your stomach growled, and you started to imagine your tables waiting for their food. were they hungry like you were while you watched winter scarf down the rest of your fries? you could’ve told winter no, to tell her to do your job like you had to do yours. but when you saw wonbin coming to the pass from the dining room you bit your tongue before turning to your plates to garnish. 

wonbin saw you finishing the plating. he had empty plates in his hand and was making a path for the dishwasher, but you garnishing your dishes stopped him dead in his tracks. he turned to look at and winter quickly turned to look at him, getting up from her seat to try and look busy working. he saw right through it, tilting his head as she looked at the blank computer screen.

“really winter?” wonbin said.

she quickly shrugged and her eyes got wide to defend herself.

“she doesn’t mind.” she said defensively.

wonbin got a little closer, trying not to make his voice heard.

“she has three large parties all sat within five minutes of eachother. you should do your job so she can do hers.” he said.

winter’s eyes softened sympathetically when wonbin told her about the amount of people. she nodded her head and wonbin headed off to the back of house. he passed by you while you finished your final dish, not sparing you a second glance.

you strategically placed the dishes on the bigger black plate, hoisting it off the pass to rest it on your shoulder. you stole a glance at wonbin for a second, and you could see his eyes dart to the amount of food balancing on your shoulder. the food to feed your seven-top weighed down on you, but you had to start getting the food out now to give yourself grace for the five-top. you could feel winter’s eyes on you as you slowly found the right position for the plate. you turned and started heading for the dining room when you saw sungchan heading straight towards you.

before you could head to the dining room with your food, winter called out to you.

“i have to get this food out to my table.” you said as politely as possible.

“i’ll garnish for the rest of the night. sorry about that.” winter apologized.

the food started to hurt your shoulder, but the acknowledgement and apology from winter made the food feel a little lighter. you nodded your head thankfully before turning back to the dining room. 

the rest of the dinner rush went as expected. things went wrong, you had to be bailed out, you had to bail others out. you got tipped well sometimes but got tipped the worst for the bigger parties. you wore yourself ragged jumping up and down for the customers and your coworkers. you ended up staying behind to do opening duties, something that should’ve been reserved for the openers. you were the last of the waitstaff to leave, saying a goodbye to your manager as he locked the door behind you.

when you finally left through the back door into the parking lot, your shift was nearly eleven hours. a quarter after one, calculating your route home made your slippers drag across the paved parking lot as you made your way to your car. you could feel some gravel find its way between the slipper and your foot. the small sharp rock poked through your sock and was stabbed against your foot, but you didn’t care. it paled in comparison to the pain of being on your feet all day. maybe the acupuncture could relieve some of the stress that weighed down on your shoulders.

the sound of your car waking up to you pressing the unlock button distracted you from wonbin on the other side of the parking lot. it wasn’t until he rolled down his manual windows and called out your name that you saw he was there. you have to blink a few times to realize who it was. exhaustion made your eyes droop and a little blurry. when your vision focussed you saw he was beckoning you to come to him. you looked at your car, so ready for you to get inside and drive home. but the guilt your situation carried your tired legs to wonbin’s car. he motioned you to the passenger side. you pulled on the lock handle once, and after wonbin let out an evil giggle he unlocked the door.

you sat quietly in the passenger seat, listening to the quiet music in wonbin’s car. you were only illuminated by the lamppost in the parking lot and the small light in the front seat. you stared straight ahead, awkwardly sitting upright waiting for wonbin to say what he needed to say. his thumbs tapped on his steering wheel, trying to get out what he needed to say.

“you’re overworked.” he said.

you scoffed and shook your hair lightly. you pressed a finger to your temple and turned to look outside.

“everyone is overworked.” you say.

“you are taking on a bigger workload for no reason.” you kept your head turned outside, desperately trying to ignore the caring tone in wonbin’s voice. “just because someone tells you to do something, doesn’t mean you have to.” he says.

“i do it because i want to.” you say quietly.

now it’s wonbin’s turn to scoff at you. you turn your head and narrow your eyebrows.

“what?” you say defensively.

“you want to garnish your own dishes when you have two five-tops and a seven-top waiting on their food?” wonbin asked you a question, but didn’t wait for your answer before shaking his head “give me a break.” he said.

you clench your hands at your sides, trying desperately to remain calm. but wonbin finds ways to push your buttons, found ways to make you so mad. the fake worry, the way he watched your every move without you knowing, the way he was right. 

“it’s none of your business what i do.” you said. 

“are you just going to keep letting everyone boss you around? do you plan on ever standing up for yourself?” he said.

wonbin had let of of the steering wheel, using his hands to argue with you like he always used to do. you cross your arms into your chest and tilt your head condescendingly.

“you don’t know anything.” you sneer.

“i know you’re making yourself suffer for no reason.” wonbin takes off his beanie, running a stressed hand through his hair. you keep your eye on his hand after sparing a glance to how his hair falls perfectly on his face. “is it because you thought i stole your ideas? so you just don’t advocate for yourself anymore?” he asked.

the incident hadn’t been brought up by either of you since it transpired. you half hoped he would’ve forgotten, but you knew wonbin always remembered. you had to pretend like you didn’t care when you shook your head, turning to look out the window.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lied.

“oh okay.” wonbin laughed. “just because you think we still have childish beef from college doesn’t mean you get to act the way you do.”

“i’m just not used to you being better than me at things.” you say.

it’s a challenge, the way you look at wonbin from your relaxed position on the door. you let your eyes go over his face a million times, resting on his lips after you lick yours. you almost forgot about the rush you got with pushing wonbin’s buttons. the feeling was freeing after a long day of running around for other people all day without saying a single smart remark. 

wonbin thinks about the type of person he is now. he thinks about how you two have been in this situation before, with you baiting him. you looked at him the same way you did now. back then he perceived the look in your eye as combative. but now, realization dawned on him. how he had never noticed before was beyond him. his eyes got wide as you leaned in with a smirk on your face. wonbin is timid, refusing to let his mind do something he might regret.

you the one that closes the space between you and wonbin by coming over the center console. you linger there for a second, waiting for his hand to come to your neck before you pull away.

”i’m not sorry by the way,” you brush hair out of wonbin’s face. “you should’ve told you were going to do that before you did it.” you say.

wonbin nods his head, completely giving up any argument he could’ve had with you. your smile is bright—you’ve bested him at another thing.

“i’ll do whatever you want.” he said.

you smiled before going back to wonbin’s lips. his hand on the back of your neck kept you in place, and his tilting head forced you to let him take the lead. you fought for it back through an iron grip on his shirt, pulling him forward. 

wonbin settled for letting you stick your tongue in his mouth to let his hand wander your body. he rested over your chest, lightly squeezing your breasts before moving down to your hips. he pulled you forward slightly, a hand underneath your ass lifting for from your seat. you pull away and sigh. wonbin looks at your expectantly, and you let him worry for just a moment before clearing the center console with your legs and straddling him.

“you’re still bossy.” you said matter-of-factly.

“you know, i’m technically not your boss.” wonbin said. 

he waited to say it until after his lips were already glossy with your spit and you were straddling his lap. even if whatever you were going to end up doing to wonbin wasn’t allowed, you were too far in now to back down. nothing he said would’ve stopped you from working the buttons on his shirt, or his hands that cupped your chest.

“we can’t get in trouble for whatever we do.” wonbin continued.

he looked up from your chest to look at you. he let your hand go to the buttons on his shirt before he went to yours. it was deliberate and slow, each button made the tension in the car go up. your shirts weren’t even undone all the way before your lips clashed together again. 

the kisses were messy like they always were. both of your tongues were mingling, the wet muscles causing a mess on the corner of your lips. the sound of spit being swapped filled the car, and wt kisses cooled the heating skin of your faces. your hands gripped wonbin’s shoulders, and his hand went to your pants. the button was stubborn and wonbin got no help from his shaky hands. it took entirely too long to get your pants open enough for wonbin to plunge his hand underneath the waistband of your panties.

instantly, wonbin almost cursed at your desperation. you were so wet the fabric of your underwear stuck to your folds. he wasted no time slowly sliding a finger into your heat, his eyes focused on your face when he made it to the knuckle. he put his second finger in a little faster, bending them when you brought his lips back in for a kiss. 

by the time wonbin put his third finger in your kisses devolved to sucking on his bottom lip. the way you were rutting your hips against his hand and gripping his bicep to keep his hand in place. wonbin watched you use him, unbothered by your desperation. seeing you get wound up so easily and hearing a quiet song about being all alone and needing someone made his dick twitch in his pants.

“been awhile?” wonbin asked.

wonbin’s words were laced with amazement, half talking about himself. the lewd wet sounds and whimpers from you both were already filling up the small space of his car. he was trying to make you feel better while you were still defensive. something in your mind still convincing you everything wonbin said was meant to be sarcastic, even if his pupils were blown wide looking at you.

“shut up.” you whine.

your whiny voice made your words bite less, and the way your hole fluttered around his fingers made wonbin want to keep going. he brought a hand behind your back to pull you further onto his lap. you pressed your chest against wonbin’s, still helplessly rocking your hips into his hand while whimpering into the crook of his neck. he cooed at you and gripped your side to keep you in place. it was the same bruising grip he would have on you in the relationship, one that he would always look at in pride the next morning. 

his fingers pushed inside of you at a skilled pace, wonbin would have to pat himself on the back for keeping such a steady groove while he was getting needier by the second. too many times in your relationship he would get lost and chase his own pleasure, going to fast for your liking. but wonbin was matured now, he changed. he could finger you at a pace that made you want more instead of giving you too much, and he could hit the spots you used to like despite the awkward angling in his car. he bent his fingers, smirking to himself when he could feel your body tense.

“fuck.” you moaned into his neck.

you reached out a tongue to lick the hot skin of wonbins neck. he preened closer to your mouth, the only hint he would drop that he wanted you to mark him like old times.

wonbin figured you got the hint, because a desperate hand pushed down his work uniform to uncover previously hidden parts of his neck and chest. your eyes scanned for a second, trying to figure out how high your marks could go while still being hidden. you went for a place on his collarbone and your lips found the perfect spot as if from muscle memory.

“no one will see.” wonbin said. 

his hands went to your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants. he wedged one hand into your pants, reaching all the way down until he could get a handful of you. 

you continued sucking on his skin as your hands went down to the tent in wonbin’s pants. you moved so hasty that you didn’t bother with the button. all you did was unzip his pants before reaching into the fly of his underwear to grab his dick. wonbin hiss as he bucked his hips into your hand. his tip was angry and red, glossy from the precum that seemed never ending. his dick sat upright and fit perfectly into your fist. 

you wasted no time running your hand up and down wonbin’s length, the sound echoing off the walls in his car. wonbin started sucking on the exposed skin of your chest and laving any area his tongue could reach. you let your body lean back, a spare hand moving your shirt to expose more skin to wonbin. his hands started at your hips and worked their way up, grabbing anything he could. when wonbin got to the nape of your neck he pulled you in for a kiss. desperation from only getting chaste kisses turned to you pumping wonbin’s length faster. he continued to kiss you softly, hissing when the teeth of his zipper rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“does it hurt?” you asked breathlessly.

wonbin nods, reaching for the button of his pants. your shaking hands work together to unbutton the top, and you lift yourself up so wonbin can slide his pants halfway down his thighs.

you two look so pitiful, clothes only half off with forming bruises on your skin. the two of you were breathless only from making out and close to climaxing only from feeling eachother up. you almost forgot you were in the empty parking lot of your job, acting like a reckless horny teenager. if you had half a mind you would’ve gotten dressed and driven home to get ready for your shift tomorrow. but wonbin’s swollen lips called to you, and his dick twitched in your hand without you doing anything. you felt like you were wearing too many clothes and wonbin’s front seat gave you no space.

“should we go to the backseat?” wonbin asked.

you crawled over the center console a little to quickly. you laid down in the backseat, lifting your hips to take off your slacks and panties while wonbin put the driver seat back up. you kicked off your shoes and socks, putting them in the space behind your seat. your button up and bra followed, leaving you completely naked in wonbin’s backseat. 

the situation barely had time to settle before wonbin was naked and following you to the back. 

“how do you want it?” wonbin asked.

“i don’t know what position is best for car sex.” you said.

you forgot to lace your voice with sarcasm, or something sharp to show wonbin you were still mad. the words only came out whiny, putting a smile on wonbin’s face.

“just tell me what you want,” he runs a finger over the mark on your chest. “it’ll be a nice change of pace for you.” he smiles.

“you’re an asshole.” you said.

you roll your eyes before turning around. wonbin moves back, trying to give you the amount of space you need to get into your position. wonbin knew that you would put your ass up and spread your legs far enough where wonbin could slot between them. he helped you, moving your foot to plant on the floor in front of his so you could find more stability.

”spit” wonbin ordered. 

his hand was underneath your mouth, and you gathered the saliva in your mouth to fall into his palm. wonbin’s hand retreated, and you could hear the sound of him spitting and his hand running up and down his dick.

“i haven’t done this in a long time.” wonbin tells you.

wonbin’s wet hand presses on your ass to bring you down slightly. when you hear him moving forward behind you and his tip prods at your entrance, you feel yourself getting lightheaded. the feeling almost makes you forget that you have to atleast try to be a little responsible. 

“me neither. but you have to pull out.” you say.

“okay baby.” wonbin says behind you.

“i’m not your baby,” you almost recant your statement when wonbin pushes inside of you. “oh my god.” you moan.

“holy shit.” wonbin curses.

he’s still inside of you when he bottoms out. your walls waste no time clamping around him, almost like they’re trying to keep him inside of you. it’s blinding, and your body tries to adjust to the feeling of wonbin being inside of you again. you barely get used to the stretch before wonbin pulls out and pushes in again.

“so perfect. fits so perfect.” wonbin says.

you can only nod and whimper in agreement when he pushes in again. wonbin’s other hand presses to the side of your ass, spreading both cheeks. something so simple has you feeling something completely different. your whimpers turn you both into moaning messes as wonbin starts thrusting into your spread cunt. your skin is clammy, and wonbin’s hips start pressing against your ass faster and faster. you had to place a hand on the door in front of you for stability. when you tried pushing your hips back to meet wonbin’s he moaned behind you.

“i got you.” he said absentmindedly.

you reacted by reaching your other hand back, reaching for any part of him. wonbin gave you his hand, and then leaned forward to press his sweaty chest to your back. 

“wonbin.” you cried.

“i know. i know.” he cooed.

wonbin wrapped his hand around your body, bringing his fingers down to your clit. you could feel his breath hot on the shell of your ear, and you could hear the sounds the sounds he stopped trying to contain. you lifted your back up slightly to be completely pressed against wonbin, so closed you could feel his heart thudding against your back. he sucked on your shoulder blades and let go of your hand wedged between your two bodies to place it over the hand on the door.

“are you close?” wonbin whispered into your ear.

“yes. so close.” you said.

wonbin continued his revolutions on your clit, and started rutting his hips into yours. he was close too, and it took everything in him to not lose himself then and there.

“kiss me baby.” wonbin nearly begged.

you didn’t have to be asked twice to turn your head as far as it would go. wonbin caught your lips hurriedly, placing kisses to your jaw and cheek before kissing your lips successfully. he was overstimulating you both, becoming distracted between all the ways you touched. the fogged windows of his car only made everything worse, heat just circling the area between you two. 

you completely froze and no longer kissed wonbin back when you came. it was too hard to focus, each time your walls clamped around wonbin’s dick made you whine out helplessly. you wanted to cry when wonbin pulled away from your body to pull out. your sweat cooling on your ass and back mixed with wonbin’s hot cum. he moaned and pumped his length. he finally letting himself quickly rub at your clit to match the pace of his hand on himself. he kept going, long after the ropes stopped, trying to prolong the feeling of you both experiencing your highs together. 

wonbin didn’t pull his hands away until your legs shook and a weak hand pushed his away. your ass went lower and lower and you said nothing while you caught your breath. 

wonbin went to the center console of his car, opening it up to pull out napkins from his various takeout orders. he was delicate wiping himself from your back despite wishing he could keep it there forever. you murmured a tired thank you, still in your resting position. wonbin let himself slump into the seat after he cleaned you up, still trying to catch his breath as he pulled up his underwear. he looked at his foggy windows, then to you. wonbin let himself run his hands down the line of your back before affectionately tapping your butt.

“are you alright?” wonbin asked.

your moved from your spot, back on the seat to get more comfortable. wonbin could see sleep pull at your eyelids as you slowly nodded.

“tired.” you said simply. 

wonbin nodded knowingly, moving your body so your head rested on his lap. it wasn’t long before your eyes closed all the way, muttering something about giving you ten minutes.

“go ahead.” wonbin ran his hands over creases of your face soothingly. “you got time.” he said

[sugarrrvenomm]

is somebody gonna match my freak? // obi-wan x reader

sorry i couldn't help it with the title LMAO

word count: 3k

summary: this is disgusting <3

PS if u want me to make a taglist and would like to be on it leave a reply !!

In the beginning, Obi-Wan felt guilty; depraved. He was a Jedi Knight, had been a Jedi Knight for many years—while you still wore a braid in your hair. It wasn’t necessarily written anywhere that having sexual relations with Padawans was against the rules, but if he was being honest with himself, he knows that’s because it’s the kind of expectation that is so obvious no one thought it even needed to put in writing. Still, the fact that it wasn’t explicitly forbidden didn’t do much to quell his shame.

And in the end, his shame didn’t do much—or anything at all, really—to stop him from fucking you. 

In his defense, you made the first move. Drunk off the single glass of wine your Master had allowed you during the Temple’s Life Day celebrations. Anakin had slunk off to Force knows where, and Obi-Wan was content with standing at the edge of the grand banquet hall, making sure no one got too reckless, taking another drink every time a server-droid buzzed passed him, and watching you. 

You’d greeted him earlier, twirling in your little white dress that certainly wasn’t Jedi issued. It was becoming more and more common for younger Jedi to scrap together fabric into their own personalized garments—apparently it didn’t bother the Council enough to do anything about it. And it certainly didn’t bother Obi-Wan, especially when the fabric was so thin he could tell very easily you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“What do you think?” You’d asked, smiling with teeth as white as the dress. 

Obi-Wan had cleared his throat, biting back the first few entirely inappropriate responses that came to him, before answering, “You’re very creative.”

The way you deflated slightly, clearly expecting a little more, bothered him more than it should have, so he smiled as genuinely as he could, and added, “Go enjoy the party, little one.” And then you blushed, like you always did when he called you that. Without another word, you had turned on your heel and did exactly as he said. He’d be lying if he said the obedience wasn’t a turn on. 

All night he watched you, and when you finally started to drift toward the exit, he made sure to be there so he could ask, “Would you like me to walk you back?”

The yes he got in response wasn’t very surprising. The way you had kissed him at the door of your quarters was, though. Obi-Wan couldn’t even enjoy it—instinctively pulling back and looking around to see if anyone had witnessed it. No one had, but you were grabbing at his tunics, trying to get his attention, and he’d pushed you inside of your rooms with the intention fo simply getting the two of you away from any prying eyes that may come. 

And once the door slid shut behind the both of you, and you were truly alone—he couldn’t help himself. Obi-Wan leant down and pressed your lips together, groaning low in his chest, walking you back until you were against the door, and slid his tongue into your mouth so you could taste him. You made such sweet, little noises—some of surprise, like you’d never done this before, and that made him roll his hips, desperate to get any kind of friction on his thick, swelling cock. 

When he’d done that, you’d pulled back, blinking up at him all doe-eyed with your lips pink and swollen. “I’m a virgin,” you said, in one quiet breath. 

Obi-Wan was far from a virgin, but he certainly felt like one for a moment, the words arousing him so much he feared he might finish in his pants right then and there. 

“That’s alright,” he managed to tell you, cupping your pretty face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Nothing has to happen.” As much as I’d like it to, he left out. 

You’d sent him away with another kiss, and he wondered if when the morning came, you’d regret it. He never got a direct answer for that—you carried on almost entirely as if it had never happened when the two of you were around each other. If it wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s frequent replaying of the memory while he stroked his cock at night, he might have thought he imagined it.

Then, you were assigned a mission together. 

Obi-Wan knew Anakin found you tolerable at least, so he only gave him a warning to be on his best behavior—for most of the mission, the two of you only spoke when necessary, while Obi-Wan and your Master were more comfortable with each other. Or, used to be. Obi-Wan had trouble looking the other Jedi in the eye after kissing you. When the mission was completed, the four of you boarded the ship once more, Anakin in the cockpit navigating you away form the planet, while the rest settled in. 

Even while wrapped up in a conversation with your Master, Obi-Wan’s focus was on you. The other Jedi stood in front of Obi-Wan, so he couldn’t see what you were doing behind him, but Obi-Wan could. Obi-Wan could see the way you cleaned your lightsaber hilt, could see the way you removed the emergency medical supplies and rations from your belt and put them back in their proper place. 

Obi-Wan could see you bend over to take your boots off, and the way your panties clung to your little cunt. 

A Jedi in a skirt wasn’t a completely foreign sight, though most chose to wear leggings underneath. Obi-Wan had assumed you’d skipped them due to the heat of the planet, but had also assumed it was at least the kind of skirt with little shorts sewn in underneath. For practicality’s sake. He’d assumed wrong, of course. You had done this on purpose. There was no denying it when you turned your head to look at him, still bent over, and bit your lip.

As soon as your Master moved a muscle, you were up again, straightening yourself and bowing respectfully as he walked away to another area of the ship. When he was gone, you resumed your position, hands around your ankles. “I’m ready for something to happen now, Master Kenobi,” you said. 

Possessed, Obi-Wan took long strides to reach you as quickly as possible, grabbing your hips, thumbing your skirt up to see more of you. “I thought you were a virgin,” he breathed out, eyes glued to the place where your underwear hugged your slit, outlining the folds of your pussy. 

“I am,” you pouted, turning to look at him.

Obi-Wan ran a thumb over your center, his cock twitching. “Then how are you so fucking filthy?”

“Because of you.”

In response, Obi-Wan cursed, and cupped your pussy with a big hand. “Is that so?”

“Yes, yes!” You whined, and he let you rock yourself back, trying to make him rub you. “I always think of you when I—when I—“ you started, but you couldn’t seem to finish. 

“When you touch yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, taking his hand away as you nodded eagerly. He gripped your hips again, and pushed his own forward, after lifting his tunics out of the way so the bulge of his hard cock in his trousers could press snug and hot against your needy, covered cunt. “Me too, little one. Every time I touch my cock I’m thinking of you; of your darling face and this tight fucking virgin pussy,” he gritted out, humping against you with the last words, making you tip forward and claw at the wall in front of you. 

“Master Kenobi,” you mewled. “Please, touch me.”

Obi-Wan wanted to. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to pull down your underwear and have you right here, pop your cherry and make you his. But he couldn’t.

“I can’t fuck you, little one,” he breathed out.

You made a bratty, unhappy noise. “Why not?” 

“You’ll scream,” he bent over and whispered in your ear. 

♡♡♡♡♡

Eventually, Obi-Wan does take your virginity, and lets you scream all you’d like. Laid back in his bed, clawing at his hair while he rubs the drippy, pink head of his cock over your center, tapping your clit and barely pushing into your cunt. 

“Do you think it’ll even fit?” He asks. It’s not just dirty talk—he really doesn’t know for sure. You’re so tiny, and untouched, and his cock is quite big. Your eyes had gone wide when he first took it out, and he’d sat you on his lap and let you play with it until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Now, he sinks the tip of it into your pussy, and even as sloppy wet as you are, he wonders. 

“It will, it will,” you chant, trying to push down on it. Adorable.

He rubs a thumb over your clit to make you settle, then coos at you, “It’s alright if it doesn’t—little girls have tight, little pussies. You’ll just need practice, darling.” The words just pour out of him, so obscene he shocks himself a bit. It seems that all his guilt has turned into filth, and the very things he used to be ashamed of are now the very things he finds the most arousing. The braid in your hair, your untouched body, your innocence. 

Still, he indulges you, and as it would turn out, you were right. It does fit. It’s so tight that Obi-Wan feels as if his dick might break off, but that only makes him more determined to open your pussy up for him. As you cry and whine and chant his name, he fucks you into the mattress, pounding away at your cunt and groaning at the sounds the two of you make together; obnoxiously wet. 

What makes him come is the realization that you haven’t even inquired about a condom, not even once. Obi-Wan had a vasectomy years ago, but you certainly don’t know that. For all you know, he’s about to knock you up. In his mind, he sees you, sat on his lap with your back to his chest, letting him bounce you up and down on his cock, your sweet belly swollen with his baby. His cock pushes out another weak spurt when he imagines your Master walking in on it. 

With his cock softening inside of you, he rubs your clit and laves his tongue over your nipples. “Sweet girl, come all over me. I want to feel my little one come,” he orders. And you do; so obedient.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan can’t stop taking firsts from you after that, especially with how you want it. Messaging him whenever you’re away from each other about how you can’t live without his cock and his tongue and his hands. Every moment your Master is away, you’re at his door, and Obi-Wan thanks the Force that Anakin’s teenage mood swings have led him to making himself scarce in their free time—it means Obi-Wan gets to have you however he’d like.

He gets you bouncing on his cock, just like he imagined, minus the pregnancy. His hands tucked under your knees, spreading you and opening you up so he can fuck you up and down on his fat cock until you squirt all over the mirror he’s set the two of you in front of. 

“Clean it up,” he tells you, pulling you off his cock and setting you on the floor. 

Without hesitation, you crawl over, and he’s torn between where he wants to look—your glistening pussy, pink and puffy from use, or your tongue, licking along the dirty mirror, unashamed. You do it so easily that he gets an idea, getting on the floor himself and stuffing himself back inside of you aggressively, fucking into you messily, watching the way your ass ripples until he’s about to come—then he quickly pulls out, stands, and tugs at his cock until his milky spend is dripping down the mirror. 

He grabs you by the hair and guides you to it, “Mm,” he hums, pleased at the way you moan and eagerly lick it up and swallow it all down. “Little come slut.” His cock is stirring to life again already, and he rubs it against your cheek, tapping your swollen lips with it. “Next time, I’ll fill you up and you can be my come dump, too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

When forced into situations with your Master, Obi-Wan really loathes how you obey the other Jedi so readily. He knows you should, and he knows he’s being unreasonable. It doesn’t stop him from ordering you to come to his quarters before your Master awakes, so he can swirl his tongue over the pretty little rim of the only hole he hasn’t touched yet. He moans against your skin, shoving his tongue inside of you and drooling all over his beard, lost in it until your com goes off, signaling that your Master’s awake. 

Obi-Wan can barely stand it—sending you away without coming, your precious cunt so soaked it’s surely going to show even through your leggings. 

It’s a consolation when he visits the training salles later and knows you’re going through all your katas with a plug in your ass, put there by him. Sparring with your Master while your entrance clenches around it and your pussy drools helplessly all the while. 

On the days there’s no time for such things, he strokes his cock while you’re on your way over. The only thing you do when you arrive is tug your panties down, and Obi-Wan comes all over the inside of them. He pulls them up your legs, smiling at the way they immediately become transparent and stick to you. 

“Does it feel yucky?” He asks.

You rub your thighs together and nod. “I like it, though.”

Pride swells in Obi-Wan’s chest and he kisses your forehead, while one hand reaches back under your skirt to massage your cunt, rubbing his seed all over your folds and the swollen button of your tiny clit. “Good girl. You keep that nice and warm for me all day, okay?”

You rock into his touch, and he sends you off with a smack to your ass. All day, he imagines you humping your seat during your lessons.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan eats your pussy from the back, because you make him nasty like that. He bends you over a table in a dark corner of the archives and kneels behind you, shoving his face between your legs and trying to see if he can make you squirt in public.

He can. He sucks greedily at your clit and sends you an image through the Force of him doing this right in the middle of one of the Temple’s grand hallways, and you come so hard he has to take off his robe and sop up your mess from the table and the floor. 

Perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical, spanking you for such a stunt when you get back to his quarters, because really, it’s his own fault—but he does it anyway. 

“Naughty, naughty girl. You’re so filthy I’m beginning to think you’d let anyone do that to you. Is that true, little one? When I’m not around, do you flash your pussy to other Jedi? Is your little cunt so insatiable that you’d hump the boot of anyone that offered?” Obi-Wan knows none of these things are true; he knows as well as you do that you belong to him, but you blush so pretty and your cunt drips so much when he talks like this, so he always does. 

When your ass is red and you begin to cry, he pulls you into his lap and lets you rock against his thigh until you’ve calmed down. You suck on his tongue like it’s candy and rub your tits against his hairy chest.

Eventually, you pull back and pinch your own nipples, before pushing your breasts together and looking at him from under your eyelashes. “Do you think you could fuck me here?”

Obi-Wan throws you on the bed so fiercely he fears for a moment that he hurt you, but then you’re moaning and playing with your tits again, sticking your tongue out like a whore to beckon him closer. Rather than lube his cock up, he shoves it in your mouth and lets you wet it for him. You’ve gotten so good at this, you barely gag, even when your nose is buried in the auburn thatch of hair above his cock. 

When he fucks your tits, it’s more about the fact that you’ve asked him to do it, rather than the physical sensation of it. Sweet Padawan, little one, hugging her breasts around the cock of a man twice her age while she goes crosseyed and cockdumb. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth gets away from him, but he knows you love it. “Imagine if your Master could see you right now—he wouldn’t believe his little girl likes to suck my cock and empty my balls over her tits.”

He does just that, and then asks you to stick your tongue out again so he can take a holo of you, come on your tits and eyes glazed over. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“Think your cute little pussy can handle daddy’s big fat cock?”

He doesn’t know which one of you started the daddy thing, but it drives the both of you crazy. The fantasies where you just plain call him dad, he keeps to himself. 

You’re on all fours on his bed, and you reach between your legs to spread your cunt for him. 

“I can take anything you give me, daddy,” you say sweetly, and Obi-Wan knows it’s true. 

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present

Chapter 1

Synopsis:y/n is a hard working painter, trying to make the ends meet. She lives with and takes care of her sick Uncle, the only one she has for a family. She has dreams to make it big, and when the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles.A man once rumored to be a dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia. artist!y/n x mafia!harry (he's also a doctor)

Word Count: 3601

Author's note: This chapter is just a start to what I hope will be a very interesting thriller. This is my fan first fiction, but I've made sure that it's all planned out properly for you guys. Warnings will be mentioned at the beginning of every chapter. Please re blog to support me if you like it! Next chapter will be up very soon:)

Warnings: Talks about mafia, gold smuggling, accident.

___________________________________________

"Ms. y/l/n, this is the second time I'm calling you, I'm afraid I cannot wait longer. I may have to-"

y/n closes her eyes, bringing her index and thumb finger to squeeze at the skin of the bridge of her nose. "No, no! Mr. Timothy please give me some time, I promise I'll send everything I owe you, just give me some time."

She was due on her rent on the little place she and her uncle call as home.

"I can't give you any more time, Miss. By tomorrow 8 pm, or I'll have you evicted.", Mr. Timothy told her on the phone. 

"Yes, um thank you." y/n sighs as she keeps her phone on the table, and looks around at the mess of her living room. It was a small flat, with a decent living room, a comfortable couch, a TV where her uncle usually spends away the day when she's out working, and two bedrooms. 

Her phone beeped, with an alarm to make sure her uncle took her medicines, and she walked to his bedroom. He was resting on the bed, back supported by a pillow as he read a book. He loves books on underworld mysteries and mafias. She never gets it. 

"Uncle Luke, it's time for your meds.", she says. 

From the time she remembers, y/n was raised by her uncle. She doesn't remember having a father, or a mother, she only has her Uncle Luke to call as family. Whenever she asked him about her family, he would stroke her hair and tell her that no one realized how special she was.

She loved her uncle, he was her father figure. Uncle Luke got diagnosed with Alzheimer's a few months back, and he had to retire from his job as a librarian. Sometimes, he appears completely normal. y/n's heart breaks when she sees the painful expression on her uncle's face as he tries to remember something that shouldn't have been that difficult to remember.

"I took them.", her uncle smiles at her, lifting his eyes from the book. "Are you okay? You seem stressed."

She smiles for his sake, nodding. "Just tired. You need anything?"

Uncle Luke shakes his head, before taking her hand. "Is it money? I can help you out, go back to my job-"

"-No, Uncle Luke, I got it.", y/n squeezes his hand. "I just need you to rest up and be okay. I'm gonna try and squeeze in another job, I'll work something out. I've gotta go now."

Uncle Luke nods, gently ruffling her hair. "Off you go, y/n."

"See you in the evening!"

y/n rushes out the door, and takes the train to the cafe. She doesn't work as a barista, the cafe wanted someone to paint beautiful pictures on the canvas while their customers enjoyed their service. The Golden Cup cafe was a beautiful place. Covered with greenery, sweet smelling flowers and little tables around. 

y/n set up her canvas, paints and brushes. "Morning.", her best friend Sania nudges her elbow. Sania works as a server in the same cafe, and they have been best friends since the first day they met.

"Good morning. It's not good though, I hope yours was good.", y/n rambles, stressed about her desperate need for money.

"Woah, what happened?", Sania asks watching her mix a few colors onto her palate. y/n tells her about the rent problems, and Sania nods understandingly. She also had her debt issues, but recently, she was doing well. y/n thought her rough patch would also be over soon, but she had no hope now. 

"I can set you up an appointment with the people I was talking about.", Sania tells her, and it gains her attention. "They can help you."

"I don't want to do anything illegal Sania-"

"-No, it's not illegal. It's off charts, but you're gonna get money in exchange for a task they assign you. It's simple!"

"That task may involve illegal activities.", y/n shakes her head. Last thing she needed was to go to jail, leaving her uncle all alone.

"No, it won't. Come on y/n, they helped me.", Sania smiles at another coworker, and lowers her voice. "You don't even have to agree immediately, you can decide and get back to them. This job isn't going to be enough to make ends meet and you know that. Think about it."

"Sania take table 4 please!"

"Yes.", Sania nodded at y/n. "I have to get back to work."

y/n also had to get to work, she smiled at the customers before putting her brush to the canvas. She doesn't decide on what to paint. She just lets the inspiration take over. The customers watched in awe as her hand moved skillfully, without an effort. y/n didn't think about her problems when she painted. When she painted, she was in her own world where everything was alright. That was why her paintings all turned out extraordinary.

She talked to the customers who came up to her. During her break, she sat with her cold mint lemon tea and thought about everything Sania said. She was right, she needed the money. Just talking with them wouldn't hurt would it? 

She approached Sania later on that day. "I'll um, I'll talk to them."

"Good! I'll set you up a meeting tonight.", Sania smiled and gave her a side hug. "The choice will be yours babe, to take up the offer or not."

y/n looks around nervously as Sania leads her through an alleyway. It was a sketchy place. There were no people around. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?", y/n whispers.

"Yes.", Sania holds her hand. "They like to be discreet."

"Why? Because of their illegal businesses?"

"Stel. I don't know if they have illegal businesses or not, but they won't involve you in anything like that. There, that's the building. Third floor."

"You're not coming with me?", y/n asks as she stares up at the tall building. It looked musty and old. Much like a haunted house.

"No, but I'll wait for you in the car, okay?", Sania says and y/n sighs, wondering if this was a bad idea. "You'll be fine.", Sania assures.

y/n nods, and goes inside the building. She took the elevator, and waited until it got to the third floor. The building didn't look as bad inside.  

"y/n, y/l/n?", a man asks. He was tall, clad in a black shirt and black pants. He had an AirPod in his right ear, an expensive watch on his left arm. 

"Yes.", y/n answers and the man nods, before walking towards the end of the hallway. y/n assumed she was supposed to follow him so she did. They stopped at a room, and he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter. "Please."

The door closed behind her as she entered the room. She noticed the velvety purple couch in the middle of the room, where a bold looking woman sat. Neat white blouse tucked into dark red pants, along with red heels and red lipstick coating her lips made her look like the boss. She was the only one sitting, the other two men were leaning against a table, and the other was looking outside the window, not paying attention to her. They wore similar clothes to the man who brought her here.

The woman looks her down, her dark brown eyes trying to stare into her soul. Her short hair was sleeked back. 

"Miss y/l/n, please take a seat.", she gave her a smile, but y/n knew it wasn't a warm smile, it was more like a challenging smile. 

"Thanks." y/n sits on the chair in front of the woman. "I am Romania Pelt, nice to meet you.", the woman said, no shake of hands. 

"I guess you already know my name.", y/n replies nervously.

"Come on Hans, where are your manners? Ask our guest if she'd like something to drink.", Romania looks at the man leaning on the table and staring at y/n.

"Anything to drink?", he promptly asks.

"Um, mint lemon ice tea?", y/n blurts out nervously, and the man smirks in amusement, before turning around and fixing her a water. "Water will do too, thank you.", y/n takes a sip, and keeps the water on the table, before keeping her hands on her lap. 

"So Miss y/l/n, we know about the trouble you're in and we want to help you out.", Romania tells her.

"If you want to help me out, I have to do something for you. Let me tell you, I will not take part in anything involving illegal issues like drug dealing, or sexual favors for anyone.", y/n put it out.

"Okay.", Romania nods. "Anything else?"

"You know illegal includes dealing with unauthorized guns, stealing, trespassing-"

"We're aware what illegal covers.", Romania cuts her off, and the man chuckles like she was funny. "You're right about doing us a favor. Let me tell you about it."

y/n nods. "We have a big business, all around the world. We do a lot of things, which involves a lot of side operations.", Romania said in a way y/n wouldn't know what the things were. "But now we're at a little bit of a loss."

"I um can't help you with business.", y/n murmurs.

"I know. But you can help us bring back our main player."

y/n raises an eyebrow as Romania continued. "He was our leader. He was the best at everything. Masterplans, hacking, leading our opponents into traps. He was mainly in charge of the gold smuggling. One night when he was travelling with the gold along with his partner, something happened between them. All we know is that there was a blast, and his partner died. The gold was gone too."

"He didn't die?", y/n asked.

"No.", Romania smiled. "Harry Styles does not go down easily."

Harry Styles. y/n liked the story but she didn't like what she was going to hear. "In the blast, Harry suffered a severe head injury. He was in a coma for a while, but he came back. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember anything that happened.", Romania said. "He has forgotten everything about his past life. We know it must have scared him deeply, losing his partner. She was his lover. Reagan Jones. She was the only one in our unit who was just as good as Harry. They both were literally, a power couple."

y/n felt bad for the guy. "When Reagan died, Harry permanently lost a piece of him too. Not a small piece. A large part of his past life."

"W-What's he doing now?", y/n asks.

"He is a doctor.", Romania says. "Only we knew him as who he was. On the outside he maintained an image as our Doctor. He remembers about being a doctor, so that's how he's leading a living now. Everyone knew about Reagen and not to mess with her, but Harry was our secret weapon, and we need him back. We've given him enough time to sulk about Reagen. It was unfortunate, and we all hate that we lost her but we need Harry back in his bearings."

"What do you want me to do about that?", y/n asks confused.

"You need to befriend him.", Romania says. "Talk to him, get to know him. We heard from Sania that you love talking, and you're great with customers. So do your thing. Eventually, we need you to ask him about what happened that night, what really went wrong, where is the gold?"

"You just said he doesn't remember."

Romania and Hans smile, even the man who was looking outside the window up until now and ignoring y/n, now turns around. "You are going to make him remember.", he said in his gruff voice.

"I'm not a brain surgeon!", y/n scoffed out a laugh. Who do these people think she is?

"We think Harry remembers everything. But he is putting on a show, a mask, to hide whatever he knows. He knows something huge, that's why he does not want to come back to his old life. We need to crack his shell somehow. We've all tried y/n, but someone like you is who we need. Do whatever you need to do, but please, you have to make him remember." Romania had a desperation to her voice now. "Oliver, please."

The bearded gruff man Oliver, pulls out a wad of cash. "Thirty thousand dollars, you can take this now, if you accept our deal."

y/n's eyes widens at the cash. "It's not black, it's real money.", Romania assures. "And on completion of the task, we will give you the rest. Five hundred thousand dollars in total."

"W-Why would you pay me so much?"

"Because this is important to us. We need Harry back.", Oliver says slowly. "I need my best friend back."

Hans pats his arm like he was offering the man comfort. "You'll have to report to me weekly, and you get four weeks to make him remember.", Romania says.

"Four weeks?!", y/n was surprised. How can she make a man remember things he doesn't want to remember in four weeks?

"You can do it.", Romania tells her. "Let me show you his picture. Hans?"

Hans nodded and handed y/n a photo. "That's him. The most wanted man. By now, our opponents also know about Harry. They knew Reagan alone couldn't carry off what she did. So Harry has a lot of people wishing him dead. They don't want to risk him remembering and going back to the person he was."

y/n looked at the photo of the man as the thoughts ran in her mind. A man who lost his lover, and lost his memory. Now he's living without knowing that he is a live target for the big thugs. He was handsome, y/n thought. Luscious brown hair, styled neatly, a little and his green eyes were so deep, like they held a forest inside them. This was the person she was supposed to befriend.

"You can take your time to think about it, give me a call by tomorrow.", Romania slides her card over to y/n. "Nice talking to you, Miss y/l/n."

"I'll escort you outside.", Hans says, and y/n understand that they're done talking to her.

_____________________________________________________________

"Well he's a handsome man, Reagan must have been lucky.", Uncle Luke says as y/n shows him the photo of Harry and tells him the story. y/n shared everything with Uncle Luke. Sania was her best friend, but she still didn't share some things with her that she would with Uncle Luke. 

"Well she's dead.", y/n mumbles. "What do you think?"

"This man must be important.", Uncle Luke says, and y/n nods. "If they're willing to pay so much just in return for his memory."

"What if he doesn't want to remember Uncle Luke?", y/n asks softly. "Reagen died. That must have scarred him deeply. Maybe there's something more to it. Maybe someone attacked them and he couldn't save her. He must be in pain, that's why his mind is shutting it all off."

"Don't get personal, darling.", Uncle Luke advises. "We don't know what kind of a man Harry was, so don't feel for him. Your job is just to befriend him and make him remember."

"I'm too curious to let this go now.", y/n says. "I only read about mafias in novels! I told Sania they were real."

"Mafia?", Uncle Luke laughs. "You confirmed they're mafia?"

"Of course. Business, she said. So secretive! You had to see the building and all the men.", y/n laughs too. "You're right, I won't get personal. I just need the money. Maybe we can get out of this town sooner than we thought, Uncle Luke."

Her uncle smiles, patting her hand as he closes her eyes. "Reena said she'll come over for dinner."

y/n's smile freezes as she hears that. Reena was Uncle Luke's daughter, she had died in a fire. She hates when the disease does this. Uncle Luke had early onset Alzheimer's, so it wasn't as bad as him not being able to recognize her. But she still hated it. 

"I'll make her favorite pasta.", y/n whispers, fluffing his pillow. "You get some rest, Uncle Luke. I love you."

She had to get him the best care. He took care of her all her life. She took the card, and called Romania.

"Miss y/l/n, good to hear from you.", Romania's voice says.

"I'll do it.", y/n said before she could change her mind. "I'll bring his memories back."

___________________________________________

She decided to go with the classic method of meeting first. Go out for drinks. y/n wasn't a big drinker, most of the time. She wasn't going to drink too much today, she wanted to be sober enough to remember everything she got out of the man. 

Romania sent her the details of the hospital in which Harry worked, and told her that he goes to the bar down the street after his working hours sometimes. y/n hoped this would be one day like that, as she set out to the bar. y/n wore a chrome yellow fluffy, silky top along with her jeans and heels. She let her hair out. 

She looked around the bar as she entered, not spotting her target. She decided to wait.

"What would you like, ma'am? New here?", the bartender smiles at her. 

"Uh yes, first time here." She skims through the names of the drinks. 

"First drink on the house. I'll get you our special cocktail?", he asks.

"Okay!" 

Anything on the house sounded amazing.

"I'll be right back.", he winks at her and goes away. y/n turned on her chair to continue scanning the crowd. The bartender was cute, but she had stuff to do.

Her drink came faster than Harry, and she was disappointed he wouldn't come to the bar that night when she finally saw him.

The photo didn't do justice. Harry Styles stood tall, six feet two at least, she thought. His stubble had grown out, and his hair had curls peeking out. Sharp cheekbones that could slice through skin and strong shoulders that hid beneath his light blue shirt. 

He appeared stressed as he ran a hand through his hair, and sat on the empty chair a few seats away from her. "Usual.", he nodded at the bartender, who got to making his drink right away. y/n watched him roll his shirt sleeves back, and sit with his head on his hands. He must have had a rough day.

Then he lifted his head up suddenly and looked straight at her, like he knew she had been watching him. Their eyes connected for a second, before he looked away. 

y/n felt a shiver up her spine. 

That was close, y/n breathed as she sipped the concoction. 

She waited until he had drowned a drink, of what looked like whiskey, before she made her move. 

She gave him her best smile as she took the seat next to him. "Hi, rough day?"

He didn't spare her a look, but he grunted in reply.

Very polite.

"I had a rough day too.", y/n goes on. "Being an artist isn't easy. Sometimes it's hard to get into the creative head space. I had some decisions to make today, and that interfered with my work."

"Artist?", his voice was smooth and deep.

"Yes. I paint.", she answers. "What do you do?"

"ER Doctor.", he looks at her with those eyes looking like they were brimming a storm behind them. "I like art."

"You do? You should come to the cafe sometime, then.", y/n says, treading on careful steps. 

"I don't get time to take a stroll into a cafe.", Harry scoffs, taking a big gulp of his drink. 

"Your job is difficult.", y/n agrees. "Do you like being a doctor?"

Harry tilts his head to study her. "Yes."

y/n waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. Great. He does love talking.

"What do you like about art?", she asks. That, she could talk about.

"The colors.", he answers, looking away from her again. "They have a hidden meaning, most of the time. The artist might not even have an idea when they start, but it turns out beautiful when they're done. Like they gave life to it."

That was the most he had told her since they started talking, and Stella smiled at his description. "I have a small studio too, you should stop by when you have time, Doctor-"

"Turner.", he completes. "Harry Turner."

Either he changed his last name, or he doesn't remember. y/n offers her hand to shake. "y/n, y/l/n."

He nods, and she feels the rough callouses of his fingers as it brushes hers. His hand was warm, and she liked the feel of it on hers. It made her feel safe. Why did it make her feel like that? Why did she feel like it was a familiar hand?

Chapter Two

[antimony-medusa]

One of the things that I think sometimes gets lost when we talk about what's appropriate in fandom spaces is the notion that things can be appropriate in one space, but not for another. And that doesn't mean that the thing that's inappropriate in that setting is wrong, it just means that it's rude in that space. I think people want a single set of rules that's appropriate everywhere, but the thing is, you have to be able to assess the situation, and adjust your behaviour accordingly.

So an example. I have a fairly popular text post that was me asking about c!phil and religion in all innocence, and someone said "the only thing I have to say about c!phil is that he worships on his knees, thank you and goodnight". And I reblogged it like "I can't believe I forgot about how this fandom does phil analysis", cause it was at the height of the dilfza memes.

Anyways that's obviously a phil-is-happily-married/oral sex joke, in an oblique innuendo way, and on this site, where Phil is not here, and his friends are not here, with it being clear I was talking about the block man character, and we make jokes about sex and profanity (a very popular url scheme for a long time was "[name]shugecock" (or smalldick, depending on the joke)— that's a fine joke to make. I'm an adult, I can make sex jokes about fictional characters on the sex joke fictional character social media site.

If I was to make that joke in Philza's twitch chat, a) in his face, b) with his wife modding, c) in an enviroment where people aren't prepped for sex jokes, d) with it being not clear if I was talking about the cubito or about the real guy, that would be wildly inappopriate. I would be banned in every chat Philza mods in and I would deserve it.

That doesn't mean that it's inappropriate to make the joke in the first place though, just because I wouldn't do it at a Phil meet and greet. It means you gotta learn to read the room. (And like, sometimes it's hard to learn to read the room, but you can do it by pure brute-force memorization. I did.)

This is the same theory that underlies the fact that you can call your friends a bitch in a friendly way, because you are friends and you know each other's boundaries, but if you call your boss a bitch, you will be fired. There are rules about workplace appropriateness, and there are rules about what's appropriate in front of kids (I teach teens, I do not swear in front of them, I swear a LOT in front of my roommate), and there are rules about what's appropriate in different fandom spaces. Participating in an exchange about pregnancy and babies with your favourite blorbo of the moment? Great. Showing the actor gift art you got of him pregnant? No. Bad. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The thing that concerns me is that I think there are slight signs that as we get more comfortable with sexy jokes and offcolour remarks as a MCYT fandom (QSMP is the big banner example but it happens with other smps), we're taking what's appropriate in one space (tumblr, home of the brain worms, where I have seen the blog "philzaswetpussy" on my dash), and we're bringing it into places that it's not appropriate (sure, slimeariana is clearly canon, but maybe don't put the actual dicks-out fan art in the art tag on twitter that slime checks). Cause we can obviously tell that the rules twitter is going with are silly for here, so it's full speed ahead for roier/spreen etc, but the trick here is that it's full speed ahead HERE, or in fandom servers, and not necessarily in the streamer's faces.

We have a bunch of situations where creators have said that it's not their place to weigh in on shipping or nsfw etc, and people have taken that as a go ahead and that's fine, but thats still something where I'd like, caution people that just because they said "not gonna look at it not my deal", that doesn't mean that like, you should make it difficult for them to avoid looking at it. Talking about scitties is an honourable tradition, but telling scar that he makes you question your sexuality in his TTS— I made a horrified noise in real life and the cats came to look at me.

And I'm talking about the shipping, but this is also a thing with like— sometimes I see a streamer and I go "my friend you just vividly described neurodivergent symptoms" but it is ABSOLUTELY not my place to say that in their chat. It might not even be appropriate to make comments about it on my blog, with the amount of followers I have. I have to keep the "streamer just described the ADHD experience again :pensive:" comments for the group chat. And we all nod and go "yeah sounds like streamer", and we do not put it in his face, cause that's inappropriate.

We get to have fun with the fictional characters, including off-colour fun, but we still have to remember that there are real people who don't know us who are steering those fictional characters around, and it can be profoundly weird to see some of the (stuff that is appropriate in fandom spaces!) just up in your face in the regular fan art tag.

Just think about the space you're in, and who you're in front of, and if a CC notice is actually likely, and if a CC notice would be Very Bad actually with what you're doing, and keep the "world's sluttiest absent father" bracket (with associated slutty fan art) for here, not with the streamer tagged on twitter.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

For context:

A few days ago, @meagancandraw (Night-Waker) and I did a lil' "what-if" scenario in a private server of what would happen if Moon punched Sun after a hallucination-driven breakdown and then ran off and was visited by someone who gave him the clarity he needed.

The following is what transpired:

NIGHT: He's starting to hallucinate, goes to hit one, and it ends up being Sun.

Sun: Moon-! Moon: DON'T TOUCH ME! (THWACK)

And that's when he snaps out of it-

ME: The sound echoes, bouncing off the walls and ringing in Moon's audio receptors. There's a frightening sting that spreads across the back of his hand. The swirling black and red of his vision vanishes practically in an instant as he stares mortified at Sun, who cups his cheek with an equally mortified look. What did he…? No…no no no what had he done-- ?: M-Moon…?!

NIGHT: Moon can only look at Sun, at the hand holding his cheek. It looks dented, and there's specks of dark blue visible between his fingers. Moon slowly looks down at his own hand, and sees where small streaks of paint have been violently scrapped off, exposing the grey underneath. He feels sick. Moon: I- ?: Sun! Lunar runs into the room (Oh God how long had he been standing there how much had he seen), asking Sun if he's okay. The sound is muffled to Moon, however, as he continues to stare at his hand. There's more talking - or is it yelling? - but he can't tell from who. All he hears is static. Horror blooms in his chest and spreads through his circuits

ME: Earth suddenly rushes in as well, looking between the two. She asks what happened but doesn't get an answer from either, so she asks Lunar, who fills her in. Her eyes widen and she looks to Moon- God that look…The way she looked at him--horrified, scared, angry--he couldn't bear it.

Before anyone can think to stop him, he turns and activates a random portal, and flees into it.

-

NIGHT: Moon [begins] spiraling and thinking his whole family must hate him. They should. Not only did he fail to protect Solar, now he's hurt Sun in front of them. He's a horrible brother. They don't deserve as terrible as him. Is hurting his family all he's good for?

ME: (imagine while in Beta 10 he starts hallucinating.)

"What, gonna start drowning in your own pity party again?"

He sees hallucinations of his family, one by one. Starting with Earth. Then Lunar. Then even Eclipse. Then Sun.

Then Old Moon.

All of them berating and sharp, pushing the dagger in deeper. "You promised you would be better." "Why weren't you honest with how you felt?" "You're a monster." "You're pathetic."

"You did the one thing I told you not to do." In the midst of the anguish as the people he loves drive home every wound, he hears a voice he doesn't expect and looks-

to see Solar.

Still a hallucination, but…he is different. He's not shouting at Moon for his failures, he's not calling him horrible things.

NIGHT: "Solar" asking Moon what he's doing here instead of being with his family Moon (crying): I don't deserve to be with them

ME: Solar: What makes you think that?

NIGHT: Moon: Because all I'm good for is hurting them! I hit Sun! I let you die! I can't protect anyone! I'm just as bad as the old me! ME: Solar: Moon. If that's all you ever see in yourself, then that is all you will ever be.

NIGHT: Moon: It's all I am! The old me killed himself because he thought that I would be better, but he was wrong! ME: Solar: Was he? NIGHT: Moon: Yes! Name one good thing I've done that didn't end up backfiring or making things worse for everyone!

ME: Solar: hm. Well…from what I heard about the guy, he didn't have a shred of empathy. So you got him beat on that front. NIGHT: Moon: Yeah… a lot of good that's done for me

ME: Solar: Yeah it has. 'Cept I don't think you actually see what good it's done. NIGHT: Moon: Like what? ME: Solar: well your brother, for one. Would you say you've grown closer since you re-awoke? NIGHT: Moon: I… guess? But I still hit him, and I promised myself that this version of me would never do that

ME: Solar: and you think he's upset with you?

NIGHT: Moon: Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be?!

ME: Solar: well, you kinda just ran before you could see what he'd say.

NIGHT: Moon: … Moon: That's because I'm a coward

ME: Solar: hm…didn't they say he was a coward, too?

NIGHT: Moon: Who?

ME: Solar: the old you. He ran from his problems too, didn't he?

NIGHT: Moon: That's part of why he made me. He had a lot of problems and regrets he couldn't face… If you're here to tell me that I'm doing the same thing right now, trust me, I'm well aware. I guess it's just another thing I have in common with the old me

ME: Solar: I don't think I'm here to tell you what you've already heard.

NIGHT: Moon: Then what are you here for?

ME: Solar: well? You don't want to be like him, right? And if he ran from his problems, what do you think you should do?

NIGHT: Moon: Yeah, I know… I just… (Sighs) I dunno… what if what happened is just the start? What if Sun and the others are wrong about me, and I just keep getting worse?

ME: Solar: everyone has highs and lows, Moon. And the lows can really suck sometimes. That's just how life is. But that's what family is for, yeah? To help pick you back up when you're down?

NIGHT: Moon: …You're right. Heh, even when you're dead you're right … (Tears up) God, I miss you

ME: Solar: (smiles) failing and making mistakes doesn't make you a bad person, Moon. It's how you respond that determines how things go.

NIGHT: Moon: I should probably get out of here, huh?

ME: Solar: they're probably out lookin' for ya right now

NIGHT: Moon: Yeah. I should- Sun: (From the entrance) Moon…? Are you here? Moon: Sun? (Looks over at Solar to see that he's vanished)

ME: Sun: (approaches, finds him staring at the mirror) …figured you'd come here

NIGHT: Moon: Actually, I set the portal to random … …Are you okay?

ME: Sun: (thinks for a moment). Not happy about being punched again, but…I'm fine. And…m-more worried about you, honestly.

NIGHT: Moon: I'm… better than I was earlier… Sun, I am so so sorry for hitting you. I don't think there are any words that can begin to tell you how sorry I am

ME: Sun: I know you're sorry. I do. But…Moon, this-- (sighs) This can't keep happening.

NIGHT: Moon: I know...

ME: Sun: Do you?

NIGHT: Moon: … Moon: The old me gave up his life so I could be the better version of him. I already told you what he told me: To protect our family no matter what. That's been my entire purpose since the moment I woke up, but lately it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough. That I'm not enough. I keep thinking that if I was smarter like him, then Solar would still be alive, or if I did start killing anyone who was a threat - sure, it wouldn't be right, but you'd all at least be safe

…I'm terrified of becoming like the old Moon, Sun. That's the last thing I want, but KC's already dead, and if I can't keep our family safe, then that officially means the old Moon died for nothing! I know that's not an excuse, but I- I can't lose anyone else, Sun!

ME: Sun: we don't want to lose YOU, Moon! Why should protecting our family be only your responsibility?! Family protects each other, it's not supposed to be one person's burden! … The old Moon, he…I get he did what he did to keep me and everyone safe, but…it still hurt people. It still hurt me.

NIGHT: Moon: I know, and I'm sorry. … You're the most important person in my life, Sun. I love Lunar and Earth, but you're the one who keeps me going. It's your light and your strength that inspires me, and I want to protect that at all costs. I want to make sure nothing ever happens to you or the others, even if it means taking on that burden all by myself. I know it's not fair to you, or Lunar and Earth, but I… I don't think I know how to do it any other way. …But I'd like to learn

ME: Sun: (listens in silence, then after a moment he sighs) Moon. I know you mean well. But—I am not a child. I am not some delicate thing that needs protecting. I can handle myself. Earth can handle herself, we know that. Lunar…more or less. (sighs) But the fact is, our lives are not perfect. Things will happen whether we want them to or not. That’s just how life is. And if you’re so busy going around trying to protect US…then who is going to protect you?

NIGHT: Moon: (Ponders the question in silence) I've… never really considered that, to be honest. I didn't care what happened to me as long as you guys were okay. I can… see why that's a problem, now that I say it out loud… (Sighs) I really screwed up…

ME: Sun: yeah. You did. (he steps and engulfs Moon into a tight hug) but who hasn’t screwed up? I’ve made mistakes. Lunar, too. I’m sure even Earth has. But at the end of the day…we’re still a family, aren’t we? (he squeezes him) You’re a real idiot sometimes, Moon. But you’re still my brother, and you always will be.

NIGHT: Moon: (He hugs him back with his first genuine smile in a long time) Heh, thanks, Sun. I love you, brother

Unbeknownst to any of them, "Solar" is watching them as they leave the bunker. He smiles at the group before fading away…

--The end--

[hawnks]

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

[goodlucktai]

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

read on ao3

x

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.