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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

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Horny Misanthrope (Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Summary: Nathan isn’t the ideal wedding “plus one”. Somehow though, all of that doesn’t matter, when he’s the perfect “plus one” to you. (Angst / argument which becomes fluff/soft Nathan.)

Author’s note: another one that has been sat 90% done in my drafts for an age as I wasn’t sure about it. Could do with a bit more development on it before posting, but, here it is anyway! I thought Nathan deserved to get out of the house for once, and why keep him cooped up any longer :P

Warnings: 18+ for sexual themes. mentions of fingering; arguing; Nathan being insensitive / an ass (his usual self). Language. Alcohol mentions. Family drama. DEFINITE TYPOS.

GIF: @twillight

The only person Nathan Bateman plays well with is himself. Okay - and lately, you. But Nathan Bateman is not the kind of guy you bring to meet your parents, turns out.

Of course he isn’t. What had you even been thinking?!

He looked every bit the ideal wedding date. He looked dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looked adoringly at you. At least, people might interpret his intense, sexual hunger for you as adoration, if they weren’t looking too hard at the way his eyes followed you, or the fact they followed your ass everywhere it went in that dress.

Nathan, however, had spent the whole ceremony - the nuptials of a close family friend- whispering in your ear and jeering at the “embarrassing” sentimentality of it all. He had spent the duration of the speeches trying to discreetly (and then much less discreetly) slip his (deliciously girthy, by the way) fingers in-between your legs, and he had spent the majority of the three-course dinner sitting insulting every single person on your table in one way or another. Including your parents. (Read; especially your parents.)

The worst part, is that he has spent the whole day completely oblivious to your frustrations. You know how he is, of course. He’s... different. He doesn’t see the world like everyone else does. That’s one of the things you love about him, and it’s not as if you expect him to change. It’s just... you thought he might at least make an effort. You thought he might avoid making your auntie burst into tears over her pudding, at a bare minimum.

Were you wishing for the impossible in asking Nathan to behave? Were you being cruel and expecting him to be something he’s not? He simply doesn’t play well with others. Except for when he plays with you... Usually.

Safe to say, it wasn’t going well. The last straw came, however, when the tables were finally pushed back for dancing. Your father had just pulled you aside to ask you what in the hell you saw in him, and then had proceeded to come at you with: don’t you want to find “a nice, stable man” to settle down with instead of - and you quote- “an arrogant, robot-fucking troglodyte? Don’t you think you can do better than a horny misanthrope, sweetpea”? And then, you had pulled Nathan aside, tears of frustration spilling down your face.

You were tired. Tired from having to justify your love for Nathan when all the good things about him were less visible from first impressions, and when he didn’t exactly make a good case on his own behalf.

And then, you were more than tired. You were exhausted. Exhausted because, after defending him to your parents and your family friends, he really had the cheek to come out with: “Are you going to ruin the day by crying right now, honey?”

And, oh boy, that -and the coldness in his tone when he said it- had further tears spilling down your face.

“I can’t help you if you’re going to be emotional about this,” Nathan sighs, trying to gently jostle you towards the restroom by the elbow. “My share prices will plummet if you’re papped crying like this, baby. Why don’t you go get cleaned-up?” You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time, and assume that was a vain attempt at humour, because, my goodness, if it wasn’t, then hell... part of you is sure you would tank Blue Book on purpose.

“Well how can I talk to you if you’re going to be a fucking robot?” you bite back. “If you’re not even going to try to understand?”

“Okay, so it’s not going well then,” he says, oblivious. “Did your dad like me, at least?”

“That’s a hard no,” you exclaim in disbelief, and all Nathan does is shrug and smile, exhaling an indignant breath. It’s not that he’s unlikable, per se. The problem is, he doesn’t care -doesn’t give a fuck- if he’s liked or not. Yes, he has a huge ego, but at the same time, he’s the furthest thing from a people-pleaser. It barely occurs to him to make an effort with people - anyone beyond you. But you do care if he’s liked. These particular people matter to you.

All you wanted from today was for your family to see how happy he makes you -weird as that fact is- and for them to start to believe that you really could have a future with him. From the start, they’d insisted that you’d never be anything more to him than a fling, and now... Well, now the whole thing is a mess. It makes it worse that maybe they are right. Maybe you don’t have a future with him, after all.

Nathan opens his mouth to speak but by this point in the day, you don’t want to hear it. You raise a palm silently as tears pool into the corner of your eyes all over again.

“No! Don’t say anything,” you say defeatedly. “You’ll just weevil your way into my head and turn everything around.”

He clamps his mouth shut, and instead he reaches his hand out towards your arm.

“Don’t touch me either. You can’t fix everything with that tongue and those fingers of yours.”

“You could let me try though?” he flirts despite how misplaced it is, ticking up his eyebrow suggestively.

You fold your arms and stamp your foot on the floor in frustration. Is he even listening to you? “Nathan!” you plead, begging him to acknowledge you.

“Okay. Okay,” he surrenders, reluctantly. “Help me out here. What did I even do wrong?”

“Everything,” you sigh, tired that he just can’t (or won’t) see it.

He bristles at that, and lifts his glasses to massage his eyes and brow in frustration with the pads of his fingers. He lets out a hearty sigh, as though he’s tired too. As though you’re not even worth this hassle.

“If this is about your aunt, it’s not exactly my fault she’s such a passionate fan of Donny fucking Osmond. Don’t you think she might be a little overinvested, huh?! Maybe that’s why she cried into her fucking ice cream?”

Overinvested? That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s relentlessly obsessive.

“It’s not the Donny fucking Osmond comment,” you bite through your teeth. “It’s the way you spoke to her. You just...” you wave your arms around in the air, gesticulating angrily. “You’re rude to people. Dismissive. You mocked the whole ceremony, you kept trying to feel me up the whole time, you insulted my entire family. And my dad, Nathan. You made my dad hate you so much that he called you an arrogant, robot-fucking, troglodyte and a horny misanthrope.”

You growl as Nathan’s mouth tips into a lopsided smile.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It’s not a fucking compliment!” you huff, raising your arms into the air and slapping them back down again, defeated, before bringing up a single finger to wag in his direction, spitting your words out now. “And don’t you dare say anything about him being upset that I call you Daddy, because I will fucking end you.”

Nathan supresses a full-blown smile- at least, he tries, he really does.

“Honey?” he says more softly, at least avoiding riling you any further. “You know all this about me. I’m not sentimental. I say what I think. I’m... essentially a horny misanthrope.” Oh, fuck, he’s adopting that, isn’t he? He fucking would. He says it with pride already. “But... is that so bad? Didn’t we kinda bond over our enjoyment of fucking each other and avoiding everyone else?”

Your anger dissolves into tears which brim in your eyes.

“Yes,” you admit, burying your face in your hands.

“Then what is it I’m missing?” he says, sounding as exasperated as you feel.

“I thought you wanted to be part of my life, Nathan. That’s what you said. But... if you don’t want... this? Then what are we even doing? I make an effort for you at all those shitty business galas, you know. And believe me I don’t like the sexist dudebro CEOs I have to rub shoulders with... but I make an effort because it’s important to you, and you’re important to me. I just wanted the same from you.”

“I thought you liked those galas,” he frowns, missing the point all over again. Why are you even surprised anymore, honestly?

You raise your hands in the air in frustration and pace away from him, further out of the view and earshot of the other guests. He follows. By this point you aren’t even sure if you want him to follow.

“Yeah, of course you think so. Because you’re too busy having your ego massaged and winning awards to notice. And because I make an effort. I don’t even make your rivals cry into their pudding.”

Though you admit, even as you say it, that can’t imagine Musk weeping into his dessert because of you, even if you tried. Maybe your auntie is a little overinvested.

“The fucking aunt thing again? For real? Fuck’s sake,” Nathan says, gritting his teeth. “Fine, don’t come to the galas again. Settled.”

“Fuck, Nathan? It’s not about the fucking galas! Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

“No,” he growls, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Makes a fucking change,” you say.

“I wanted to be here,” he says adamantly. “I just wanted to be with you. All this other shit doesn’t fucking matter to me,” he states, sweeping his hand through the air, gesturing around him.

“That’s exactly my point! I’m not asking you to gush over the fucking floral arrangements. We can head back to the suite later and you can bitch all you like about how schmaltzy this whole fuckin’ thing is. But the problem is, I know you can be charming when it’s something that matters to you, Nathan. I’ve seen you schmooze investors, and partners. And this matters to me,” you say, stabbing your finger against your own chest, and then releasing a pent up breath. “It matters to me. That’s all I’m trying to tell you. I guess you just have to decide if I matter enough to you, or not.”

You are greeted by silence as he sets his jaw again, tendons slipping over bone, his gaze stern and impenetrable.

Fucking great. Just about sums it up.

You simply exhale an indignant breath.

You are tired.

Tired of this.

Your body sags. All of the fire saps from your voice, and you reach into your purse, your tone muted and dull. Unfeeling. Like him. Like one of his machines.

“Look, Nathan, if you don’t want to be here, here’s the hotel key,” you say, slipping the fob into his palm. “Go away if you like. If you don’t want me, and all my human baggage, feel free to build yourself another fucking robot.”

You throw him a cold glance and you sweep away into the bathroom to wipe your tears away, and then to repeat the cycle by crying a few more.

By the time you surface again, Nathan is gone.

Despite how much it hurts you, you smooth your features and venture back into the throng, trying your best to put a brave face on it, for the happy couple’s sake. Nathan’s an obvious miss, to all of the guests in there who wonder why you are suddenly without your eccentric, billionaire boyfriend. But, most of all, he’s an obvious miss to you. To you, he’s simply your boyfriend, and you would have liked him by your side today. Today and all the days following, if you’re honest with yourself.

Still, perhaps he did play best alone. Perhaps Nathan just wasn’t suited to being anyone’s plus one; for weddings or for life.

You plaster a smile on your face as you link back up with an old childhood friend of yours, and leave your personal dramas to one side to concentrate on the day at hand... and, you have to admit, it does go a little more smoothly without him.

***

It is an hour or so later when you catch a glimpse of Nathan re-entering the room, out of the corner of your eye. You are shocked to see him again. You had expected him to retire back to the suite for the rest of the night, and to take the edge off his sorrows with the (entire) contents of the hotel mini bar.

Your stomach clenches, and you hope desperately that he hasn’t, in fact, done exactly that; raided the hotel mini bar and subsequently come back, determined to raise a scene.

You tense-up as you watch him beeline determinedly toward your father -the last thing you needed was for your dad to add “drunk” to his list of unkind descriptors of your man- and you watch the initial scene unfold from behind your fingers; however, you’re shocked when Nathan seems to politely approach the older man, locking eyes with a wide, charming smile. He almost looks... deferential? Apologetic? Not words you’d ever think to associate with Nathan Bateman.

From what you can observe, your father looks sceptical, and appears to respond brusquely at first; but you are shocked when Nathan extends a hand towards him and they shake firmly, as if reconciling. You watch slack-jawed as Nathan whisks your father to the bar to buy him a drink -declining one of his own- and you are especially surprised when you see the two of them engaged in what looks - from a distance, at least- a lot like a pleasant conversation.

You then watch, still slack-jawed, and feigning interest in your own company’s talking points and pleasantries, as Nathan circulates around the room, appearing to gradually make peace with everyone he upset earlier. Even reaching out to others he didn’t speak with before. Chatting happily to the bride and groom.

Has he made a robot version of himself? (If so, can you keep it?)

After a while, he finally meets your eyes from across the room, and he holds the connection for a moment, his gaze travelling over you from head to toe -but not hungrily, like usual; softly somehow, in a way which makes you feel revered and almost like you are floating. Like you are the only thing he can see in the room. The way he’s looking at you practically steals the air from your lungs, and then, as quickly as it came, he unceremoniously dips away again, to continue determindely on with his act of penitence.

Suddenly you feel the loss of him all over again.

He circulates around so many people in the room, until finally he comes to you, with a warm, broad hand resting on the middle of your back. Back to your side. The one person he has yet to make peace with, and the most important.

He comes over to you, looking every bit the ideal wedding date. He looks dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looks adoringly at you.

“Can I borrow you, for this dance?” he asks, his usually calculating, inpenetrable eyes somehow softer and deeper.

The look he’s giving you almost makes you feel as though you are meeting him for the first time and being swept off your feet all over again... which, now that you think about it, never actually happened the first time... unless a hot, urgent fuck with your face being rammed into his keyboard counted as romance? To be fair, maybe it did, in Nathan Bateman Land.

“You sure, Bateman? It’s not disco,” you say, your lips curling up into a gently teasing smile as you draw attention to the cheesy power ballad being played. “Sure you’ve got the moves?”

He simply nods at you, and extends his hand to you, and you let him lead you away into the floor of gently swaying couples, bathed in the fragmented light of a glitterball.

He wraps an arm firmly around you and tugs you close to him, and his other hand clasps yours gently in his as he rocks you, in time to the music. It is so unlike him that you open your mouth in disbelief to question it, and yet, Nathan is the one to speak first, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if his coming words are an effort.

“I’m... sorry,” he says, and although it seems to have pained him, his apology sounds genuine.

“Why, what did you say to my dad this time?” you idly tease, even as you genuinely wonder what he has been up to.

“Hi. I’m a little weird and intense,” he relays. “I’ve lived in a concrete house underground for a couple of years. We got off on the wrong foot, buddy. Let me get you a beer. Tell me more about your daughter. Did you know how fucking much I love her?”

You feel a surge of emotion when his voice cracks during his final sentence, tears gently swelling in your eyes. Sometimes, you just don’t know if Nathan feels things... aside from in the crotch area - it’s pretty clear he feels things for you there. With his emotions, he’s generally bottled-up and withholding, and it feels really good to hear it out said loud like that.

He loves you.

“Were those your exact words?”

His mouth quirks up and he bites down playfully on his lower lip. “I’m paraphrasing, honey.”

You nod gently in understanding. “Okay. Well, why the change of heart?” you ask him, as he circles you majestically over the floor.

His brow furrows again, and he runs the pad of his thumb delicately along your jawline. “No change. Just realised. I can replace most of the people in my life with robots. But I can’t replace you.” He thinks for a moment. “I need you to know you’re important to me. That I want this. Days like this with you.”

The intensity of him destabilises you, and so you reach for humour as a defence. You throw your eyes around the room at the flowers and the decorations and the whole cheesy spectacle. “You want all of this? I’ll remember to play you some Celine Dion when we get home then.” Your tone is obviously teasing, and you expect him to balk at the notion of any of this. Including, and especially, the notion of marriage.

But, if there’s anything Nathan can be described as -your dad’s unkind descriptors aside- it’s unpredictable. Surprising.

“Honey, we won’t get married like this, give me a fuckin’ break.”

Your heart is beating pretty fast all of a sudden. A tentative happiness is blooming within your chest. Did he just hint at what you think he did?

“How would we do it?” you venture, biting down on your lip to supress the widest smile of your life. “Robot officials?”

“Up on the glacier, maybe. The fucking... bare minimum by the way of guests -if you’re insisting on anyone at all beyond the robot officials, that is. I’ll allow 3 people tops.”

You draw a lopsided flash of teeth from him as you laugh warmly.

“Generous of you,” you say, still smiling, looping your arms around his neck, and playing fondly with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

“You could wear snow boots,” he continues, “and then I could do you up against a tree.” He thinks a moment more. “Would be romantic. In the moonlight, maybe.”

You really can’t help but smile now. Nathan always is a little bit contrary. A little bit different. And he may not be the ideal wedding guest, but he’s your ideal plus one.

“Nathan Bateman,” you say in disbelief, as he dips his lips closer towards yours. “You do have emotions, after all.”

Tears fill your eyes again like jewels- happy tears this time though.

“Careful, honey. I’ve told you- if you get papped crying, BlueBook tanks. Then there’ll be nothing left for you by the time of the divorce.”

You throw him a gentle faux scowl, dismissing his comment.

Happily, you let your scowl fade into a soft, cautious smile. “Nathan. You want this? Really? Us, I mean?”

“Like I said,” he admits softly. “Can’t replace everyone with robots. Definitely can’t replace you. So, if I have to talk to a bunch of losers every now and again for you...” he nods with conviction. “I’m in.”

You bat his chest with your palm.

“Nathan!” you scold, earning another lopsided flash of teeth from him, but there’s no true malice behind it. Unless...

Unless you can think of a way you’d like him to make it up to you.

“Ah, shit. Ok, I messed up again,” he confesses, sucking air between his teeth. “Probably shouldn’t have called your family losers. But, honey,” he purrs, and you know that familiar lust-infused tone all too well. You note that his hands have gradually been wandering further and further down your back too - holding you more tightly. “Did I fix it enough for you to let me fix the rest with my lips?”

“Yes,” you nod, your voice suddenly breathy.

He dips his lips towards yours, tasting you as if he can’t resist you. Kissing you as if no-one is watching. But it’s not hungry, like usual. It’s not overty sexual. It’s adoring. He kisses you and you feel revered. He kisses you in a way that would make anyone looking think the two of you belong together. That each of you is the perfect plus one to the other.

You melt into his kiss, and when you pull away there is a gentle sparkle in his eyes too. Not like starlight; no. His emotions are hidden further in the depths of him. More subtle. More subdued. But still equally dazzling. Something like the wash of moonlight upon deep waters.

When you look at him, hungry, he cocks a single eyebrow at you.

There’s the Nathan you know and love. There’s that wicked glint in his eyes, returning yours.

“Holy shit. Did I fix it enough for you to let me take you outside and finger you in the orchard?” he asks, voice deep and wonderfully dirty.

“We’ll see,” you say, ticking-up an eyebrow in turn, and you’re surprised when his expression grows serious again, momentarily.

“Just so you know. It’s the flowers and the frills and the fucking pretentious shmaltz I don’t like. But, if you wanted it, I’d do it for you.”

“Really?” you say, eyes somehow still shining.

“If it’s really that fucking important to you, then yeah.” He takes a deep breath, as if his next words will take effort. “The idea of being with you forever is... terrifyingly okay, actually,” he says, and although the words were hard to say, Nathan only ever says what he’s thinking. That’s one of the things you love about him.

You love him as he is, and you wouldn’t want him to be someone he’s not.

You scrunch your nose up in dismissal, suddenly knowing exactly what you want. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Your way sounds perfect for me, Bateman. Mountain wedding and a bang against a tree?” you smile. “Don’t you know I’m just a horny misanthrope too?

He smiles right back at you, and it’s loving as much as it is devilish. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other, I guess.”

“Now, come on,” you giggle deviously, darkly, leading him by the hand. “Let’s ditch these losers and you can fingerbang me in the orchard”

Nathan follows you gladly, and his eyes definitely follow your ass in that dress.

He might not be everyone’s favourite wedding guest, but right now, you could care less. He is your favourite, and that’s all that matters.

What’s more, the idea of being with him forever? With Nathan Bateman? Well, it is... terrifyingly okay, actually.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #oscar isaac #ex machina #ex machina fanfic #nathan bateman blurb #nathan bateman fluff

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

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Doors Will Open (Donatello x Reader)

Rated: G

Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, movie night, tenderness, cuddling, supportive brothers

You surprise Donnie with lembas bread for your Lord of the Rings movie night.

for @blancoluna

Donatello is holed up in his laboratory of mischief and oddities when you arrive at the lair bearing treats. But Mikey is there to greet you, jumping out of the Pit to graciously unload the deep tupperware of cookies from your hands.

His eyes twinkle as he leans in to stage whisper, “You’re my favorite, know that?”

April walks up behind him with a gasp of indignation. “I’m gone five minutes!”

“But, but...” He lifts the box in his defense, “Cookies!”

“Ooh.” April’s eyes go wide and warmth floods your cheeks at their enthusiasm. She rubs her hands together with delight. “Can I grab one for the road?” You nod, of course, encouraging her to take as many as she likes. “You’re my favorite too,” she says with a giddy bounce.

Your laughter draws Raphael and Leonardo from the tunnels, and your excitement for the evening mounts. Rising to your toes hopefully, you try to capture a glimpse of Donatello behind them. The tunnel, however, is otherwise empty. Your heart sinks just a little.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen, welcoming you and trying to convince April to stay, but with each passing minute, the absence of your best friend grows harder to ignore.

“Wheel of Time is in my bag,” you mention to Leo half-heartedly. It’s a book series he’s been begging to borrow for ages. You’re proud of yourself for remembering to bring it, and you don’t want to get distracted and forget.

“Thanks!” Leo unlatches your messenger bag immediately, diving into a confession that only serves to prove what a nerd he is. Apparently, he sped through the Lord of the Rings this week in his excitement for the weekend movie marathon. You nod along with an amused smile. You're usually overjoyed to have the fellow bookworm to talk to, but your attention keeps drifting to the empty tunnels.

A lull in his rambling gives you an opportunity to ask, “Is Donnie coming?” You have trouble meeting Leo's eyes, but you try your best to keep the question sounding casual and light. You don’t want Leo, Raph, Mikey, or April to feel like you don’t value their company, but you brought down supplies for Movie Night under the impression Donatello would be joining in; you don’t want to start without him.

“Oh, I’ll get that knucklehead,” Leo says, stacking the books to carry. “He probably just lost track of time.”

Turning from Mikey's final, futile plea for April to stay, Leo heads toward his room to drop off the books, then to the workshop to gather their missing brother.

The muted sounds of tools and machinery come through the heavy door in clanks and whirrs. But Leo knows Donnie won't mind the intrusion. He raps a knuckle against the small frosted window and gives his brother a shout.

Donatello raises his voice over the buzz of a circular saw to ask, “Emergency?” But the sound of the blade cutting through metal continues without pause.

“No.” Leo won’t lie. He won’t test Donnie’s nerves with trickery, not even when the reveal is something his brother has been looking forward to all week.

“Password?” Donnie counters next.

Leo screws up his face, searching his memories for the right answer. “I don’t know, dude. There’s cookies? And, like, ten hours of movies, so-”

The saw goes silent before the 'shop door opens with a snap. Leo takes a step back to give his brother room.

Donnie’s face pops through the gap, his eyes looking unnaturally large through the magnifying lenses perched atop his beak. “What day is it?”

“Uh, Friday.”

“Y/N is here?”

Leo's exasperated answer hisses through the tunnel. "Yes."

Donatello lets the door swing wide as he pulls off his goggles and hangs them on their hook. “Why didn’t you start with that?” he asks as he tidies up his station. His hands fly over the tables, reorganizing the space for his return. He fumbles his wrenches into their case in his rush. "How long have they been here? Why didn't anyone get me sooner?"

Leo doesn’t hide his grin, so happy to see Donnie this close to admitting his crush. “Oh, so they’re the password, huh?”

Donatello’s blush starts at his neck and rises up to his ears. “That’s not…” He gives a little huff as he rolls his tool cart to its place against the wall. “Shut up, Leo.”

Slinging an arm around Donnie's neck, Leo drags him into the hall. He grinds his knuckles over his little brother's head with a light chuckle. Though Donnie easily squirms free, Leo knocks him with a shoulder, a tease and a mark of support.

At first, Leo had been reticent to encourage his brother's feelings for you, but over time it's become obvious that Donnie’s affections are far from one-sided. Being what they are, that came as somewhat of a shock to him, but it was the best kind of surprise.

Donnie's lucky to have you in his life. And Leo hopes that one day soon, the two of you will get your acts together. It's about time you two admit just how happy the other makes you.

You're picking at the edge of the countertop, stomach in knots, when you hear the echo of footsteps draw near. Leo and Donnie enter the main living space pushing and shoving, but there's not a hint of anger on their squabble. Laughter stretches their smiles wide.

You bite your lips together, anticipating the moment when Donatello finds you. There's become a shared second of pause when you meet, though you don't know when that began. You try to prepare yourself for it each time, but it always leaves you breathless.

When Donatello’s eyes fall on you, his laughter peters out and his smile goes soft. Your lungs ache with the breath you've forgotten to release until Donatello breaks the spell. "I was told there would be cookies?"

You gesture to the box, hoping the slight tremor in your hand isn't obvious. "Lembas, actually." It's silly, your newly developed nervousness around him. Donnie is the person with whom you feel safest, most free to be yourself. He's your best friend in the world.

Your crush on him shouldn't change that. But it does. It could change everything.

Donatello's eyes slide to the box and his jaw drops comically. "Are you kidding me? How did you-? Why did-?" His long strides bring him to the table before he has a chance to form a full sentence.

"It's our weekend," you say. A blush colors your cheeks as you catch your choice of phrase. "I mean, Lord of the Rings weekend. Remember?" You fiddle with the ring hanging from your neck, your fingers running back and forth over the elvish script.

"I didn't. I do now! I didn't realize it was Friday until Leo… But Lembas!" He's probably the biggest nerd of you all.

"Go ahead." The mess of crumbs on the counter is evidence Raph and Mikey have grabbed their share. Thankfully, they left some for the rest of you.

Leo skirts around you to take a cookie for himself while Donatello inspects his square of pastry with care. Turning it over in his hands, Donnie hums. "It smells like citrus and almond."

"There's lavender too," you supply gently. It took a few tries and a few tweaks of the recipe you found to get it just right, but you're quite proud of the end result.

"Yeah," he gives a slow nod. "And lavender. I was getting to that." He looks at you in awe. "This is really… it's so cool."

"You didn't even try it." Your racing heart switches gears from nervousness to anticipation for Donnie to have a taste.

"Oh, right." Donatello takes his first bite, follows it quickly with a second, and the cookie is gone. "Wow." Crumbs fall from his lips and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"I can make more," you offer as he reaches for another, "if you guys like them so much."

Donnie nods and drops his gaze as he seems to consider it. "...maybe you can make them here," he says finally. "With me, y'know? Show me how it's done."

Your blush returns at the suggestion and you find yourself hesitant to agree to the plan.

Donatello's eyes blink wide and his almost pout is irresistible as always. You can't fathom why you'd give up the chance to be the one teaching Donatello something for once.

With a leap of your heart, you give in. "Yeah, of course. We can swing by my place later and grab the stuff. Could be fun."

"Could be," he agrees quietly.

Donnie meets your eyes again and the moment of stillness between you stretches long--

Until Raphael speaks up from the couch with an exaggerated groan. "Can ya please get over here already? There's a whole mess of movies waitin' for us and you're busy yappin'."

Donatello grabs the box of cookies and rummages through the cabinet for Pop-Tarts while you make your way over to the TV. Of course, not even lembas can fill his appetite for sweet pastry.

In the Pit, the lighting is dim. Title screen music rises and falls, drawing you into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Leo has taken a seat atop the back of the couch to give Raph and Mikey room on the cushions below. At the sight of your approach, Mikey scoots toward his brothers to make you a place by the armrest.

It's a comfortable fit, even for your favorite position, sitting with your legs pulled up, criss cross. But when Donnie comes in, there's no real room for him. He doesn't seem to mind. He places the plate of lembas and box of Pop-Tarts on the coffee table. Then, without hesitation, he takes a seat on the floor in front of you.

Mikey starts up the movie and the epilogue scenes cast the room in shadows and flashes of light. Donatello settles in against your legs and everyone's eyes focus on the screen.

The film plays and the temptation to reach toward Donatello increases with his every shift. Though he hasn't complained, you think he must be uncomfortable down on the floor. If nothing else, the way he rolls his shoulders probably means he's feeling stiff.

It's dark enough, you could lay your hands on his shoulders, work the knots out of his muscles and neck, without attracting the attention of his brothers. But you don't. As you indulge yourself in fantasy, Donatello shifts once more. He slides into position between your knees and the tails of his bandana catch on the hem of your jeans.

You stare for a moment, unsure if you're allowed to touch. Then, Donnie leans back and smiles up at you and you could swear your heart stops. It only lasts a second before his eyes return to the screen, but it fills you with comfort, confidence, and calm.

Careful not to tug, you take the tails of his mask in hand and lay the long strips of cloth over your lap. With steady passes, the fabric runs through your fingers. It's soft and worn. Stained and fraying on the ends. The movie plays on, but as far as you're concerned there's only this.

You twist the tails of Donnie's mask around your fingers. You tie them into loose knots, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of having Donatello so close.

Donnie tips his head to the side as you play, turning his body just enough that he can rest his head on your knee.

You bend at the waist and drop your voice as quiet as it can go to avoid being overheard by the others. "You OK?"

Donatello nods, nuzzling his cheek against your knee just enough for you to notice. "It's nice," he says, and you drag the tails of his bandana through your fingers again.

As you sit up, you spare a glance at his brothers. Raph and Leo are sitting forward, elbows on their knees, enraptured by Arwen's race on horseback. But Mikey's watching you through the corner of his eye. He gives you a small, knowing smile before turning his attention back to the screen.

When it's time to switch DVDs, everyone agrees it's time for a stretch.

Donnie's the first one back to the Pit. And he takes it upon himself to lie across all three cushions of the couch with a lazy grin. Mikey doesn't even bother with him, ducking out to meet up with April and leaving his older brothers to fend for spots on the broken recliner and floor.

Donatello makes grabby hands as you return from the kitchen with a pair of sodas. You think he'll sit up, make some room. But to your surprise, Donatello exaggerates his sprawl. He takes the drinks and places them on the floor, then extends his hands toward you again.

You only have a second to register his request before he takes your hand in his and gently pulls you onto the couch with him.

Cuddled up between the couch and your back, Donatello gives a little shimmy and a wistful sigh.

Your heart is racing and you're tingling from your hands to your toes, but fitting against the curves of Donatello's bent knees and soft embrace takes no thought at all. And once you're there, you can't imagine ever wanting to leave.

The second Fellowship DVD comes to an end, and Donatello's breath tickles your neck, "One more?"

You shrug into the feeling of his words ghosting over your skin. "I'll fall asleep," you admit regretfully. You're so comfortable in his arms, you don't want to go home. But it's precisely that warmth and safety that are making it so hard to stay awake.

"I won't make fun of you if you snore," Donnie teases. There's soft pressure on your scalp and you're sure that's the feeling of him snuggling into your hair.

"I make no promises," Raph chimes in from the recliner. You'd long since forgotten you had company. The sound of his voice should come as a shock, should have you scrambling out of Donnie's arms. But it's only Raph, and he's picking on you the same as always. And there's a kind of approval in that -- the kind you never dreamed of receiving.

You try to shoot him a scowl, but you're grinning because you can't help it.

You were right about having difficulty staying awake. The film isn't on for five minutes before your eyes drift closed.

"Are you asleep?"

"Still listening," you mumble dreamily. Donatello's arms tighten around you and his chin tucks over your head. It's enough to send you adrift into a deep and peaceful sleep.

You wake up in the morning alone but wrapped in a purple knitted blanket you recognize from Donnie's room. You pull it snug around your shoulders as you sit up to check your phone. There's a text from your roommate and emails that can be ignored, but one notification stands out. You touch the media message from Raphael.

Though you roll your eyes at the blurry thumbnail, your curiosity has you pressing play. The video is only 20 seconds, anyway.

It loads immediately and the image clears. You smile at the closeup of Donatello asleep on the couch. The audio is low but you can clearly make out the snuffling rise and fall of his snores. You allow yourself a little laugh as you watch the video play through again. And you don't miss the way Raphael panned to show you and Donnie together dozing comfortably -- your limbs entangled and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You're unsure where you two stand and where your relationship will go, but your stomach is full of butterflies and your heart is content.

"Did you sleep OK?" Donnie asks as he comes in from the kitchen. He's brought tea and toast -- a simple but sweet gesture.

You take a moment to enjoy the sight of him bringing you breakfast 'in bed' and tuck your phone away with a smile. "I slept great."

#TMNT x reader #Donatello x Reader #Donnie x reader #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #prompt fill #request fill

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader- Oneshot

“No way you’re lying!”

“No uh! We got it yesterday. April said it was a gift from NYPD since it’s our birthday and all. I’m telling you it’s awesome. I’ve been trying to get my hands on it forever. Donnie says it’s too expensive. Can’t believe we finally got it. “

Mikey talked non stop about getting the just dance system. The both of you were suckers for the game. So hearing that he finally managed to score the machine, it was music to your ears.

If you’re day wasn’t already going well, it was nothing short of awesome now.

“What are we waiting for, let's go!”

You were already in the tunnels of the sewers, you picked up your pace, racing to get there first. Mikey was laughing behind you following. As you ran in through the entrance, you almost tumbled into Leo. He held you by the shoulders, laughing softly at the excitement on your face. “Woah there, is it Christmas?” you shook your head, trying to peep over his shoulder. When he saw the direction of your gaze he smiled.

“So that’s what you’re here for. And I thought for a second you wanted to wish us a happy birthday.” you grinned, reaching over and giving him a hug. “Happy Birthday Leo!” Of course you would never forget their birthday. You’d been waiting all month just to stop by. But when Mikey told you about his birthday present your excitement got the better of you. Leo returned the hug, and when you pulled away, you dug into your bag, taking out a small gift wrapped box, along with a few books. Leo’s eyes lit up like a child, and he hesitated for a second. “Is this..for me?”

“Of course silly, who else is standing here.” He took it slowing, a bit in awe. They weren’t used to getting gifts from others. It had always been just his brothers and Splinter. He appreciated the gadgets and gizmos his brothers managed to get their hands on from above, but actually getting a gift from someone other than family, it was foreign. He opened the small box, and stared at the chain with a silver sterling dragon.

“My dad says dragons are fierce leaders that protect their own. It kind of reminded me of you, so I thought I’d get it. Do you like it?”

“I love it (Y/N), thank you.” he placed the books down on the table, putting on the necklace with a smile. “How does it look?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Awesome my guy.” you responded in a deep voice, trying to imitate a man’s voice.

“Hey where’s our gift!” Mikey called.

“You really think I’d forget my favourite boys, never.” you placed the bag down, folding your legs. Donnie seemed to catch unto the commotion from his spot. “What’s going on?” he called, eyes still distracted by his screens.

“(Y/N) brought us presents!” Mikey said excitedly. Splinter who was at the back making some tea, walked out from behind the small shed where he usually brewed his drinks.

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure they are very grateful.” you just brushed it off.

“Yeah it’s no sweat. You guys absolutely deserve it trust me. If I was a millionaire I would have bought a mansion. Sadly I’m still saving for college so you’ll have to settle for these.” One by one you took out their presents. Each gift was wrapped in their signature color. Mikey took his running on the spot in anticipation. When he opened the rectangular box, his eyes grew wide.

“No way..” It was a pair of metal tonfas. Mikey was glued to his original weapon, but you remembered the way his eyes lit up when he saw the advertisement a few months ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he wanted. He picked them up slowly, testing it out.

“THESE ARE FREAKING COOL!” well, it seemed that he approved.

“(Y/N).” from Leo’s tone you could already tell what he was going to say. “Leo come one, it’s really no big deal. You only celebrate once a year, you have to make every one memorable. Plus he loves them.” you grin. Mikey was making action noises as he struck the air. “Thanks (Y/N)!!”

“You’re welcome.”

You turned to Donnie, who was staring nervously at you. “Y-You really didn’t have to get me anything.” He assured. You rolled your eyes. “Like hell, of course I did.” None of his brothers probably knew, but Donnie, despite his very logical nature, was pretty sentimental. With all the little knick knacks he’d already obtained, you were stumped for a while on what to get him. Then it hit you. Donnie always loved the pictures you showed him of your family and friends.

You lifted the square package that was tied with a violet ribbon. He took it with a small thanks, pulling the string loose. As it fell open, the paper slipped off the side, and Donnie stared at the indigo patterned photo album. When he flipped it open, Leo leaned over, watching the pictures stuck in the small clear page. They were placed in sections. Each picture displayed a different story. One when you were wrestling with Mikey, another with Leo and Raph arguing. There was even an image on when they were awarded the keys to the city.

“This is incredible…” He was speechless. The images captured so much, Donnie thought for a second he would get teary. He pushed up his glasses, shuffling over to give you a hug. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You replied. You patted his shoulder lightly as he pulled away. He was already rushing over to set it up. You giggled. Your eyes lifted to give out your last present, but the turtle you were looking for was nowhere in sight. “Raph is in his room. He’s never been the celebrating type.” you nod. “Well I’ll change that. “ you zipped up the bag, about to head over to his room.

“When I’m done we’re definitely having a dance battle Mikey!”

“You’re on!”

Leo and Splinter watched as you jogged to the older turtle’s location.

“She is a very special girl.”

“She really is.” Leo was thankful, not just for himself, but also his brothers. The care that you showed them, it was as if it came effortless to you. It never stopped surprising him. And he was more than grateful. He just hoped his numskull brother didn’t blow his chance with you. Leo knew full well how you felt about Raph.

Raph was probably the only one who didn’t see it.

“Maybe today will be his lucky day.” With that, Leo walked away, taking the books with him.

You knocked twice. Raph always yelled at Mikey for constantly barging in. Even though you strutted there all confident, you were nervous as hell. Raph was the only one who ever made you anxious, mainly because of your gigantic crush on him. You couldn’t remember exactly when you fell for him. For as long as you knew them, they’d always been just really good friends, almost family. But somehow, you’d fallen for the hot tempered turtle. And today, you decided you’d finally own up to it.

“What do you want Mikey,I told you I don’t want to celebrate.”

“It’s me.” you twisted the knob, walking in slowly. When you entered Raph was standing with his back to you. His fists were clenched, and you realized it must have been because he was punching the bag hanging from the pole above. “What do you want?” his rough tone didn’t help much with your nerves.

“I-I just, I got you a present.” you had no idea why you were speaking so softly. Your hands gripped the backpack tightly, not sure if it was such a good idea to approach him when he was already in a bad mood. To your surprise he turned, and he didn’t look as agitated as you thought he would be.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. Mikey and everyone else is out there having fun, maybe you should join them. I’m sure you'll have fun. Why don’t you like celebrating your birthday anyway?” The moment you asked you wanted to take it back. Because it was obviously a personal issue that he maybe didn’t want to talk about.

“Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!”

“I’m an idiot.” you scolded yourself.

Raph looked to the side, moving to his bed. He took a seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and joining his hands. There was a flash of hurt in his usually sure emerald eyes.

“Every year in this place, it was a reminder that we’d never be accepted up there. It’s different now, we’re a part of the NYPD helping people. But what about the rest of the world. No matter what we do, they’ll never see us the same. “

So that was it. Who would have thought. Of course he was sad. They had feelings just like everyone else.

You placed the bag down, walking over to take a seat right next to him on the bed. His head turned to you, and you smiled.

“I’m so sorry you went through so much Raph. You deserved so much more. You guys are easily the coolest people I’ve ever met. U-Uh I mean turtles.” you corrected. A small smile inched its way on his face.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You couldn’t believe it, you actually got him to smile. And it was the purest thing you’d ever seen. You could physically feel the way your heart pick up. You just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for Raph to hear. He was still looking at you, and you him. Maybe your body stopped functioning, because you couldn’t pull your gaze away.

Raph was having a similar problem. You swallowed, hand raising slowly. Your palm rested on his cheek lightly, and you could only pray that your next move didn’t completely ruin your friendship. Raph didn’t utter a word when you started to lean forward. Your hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder. He should have done something to stop you.

He told himself that maybe you just felt sorry for him, or got caught up in the moment. But with the fluttering of your eyelashes, and your plumpness or your deliciously rosey lips, how could he stop it. When he felt your soft breath brush his lips he came to his senses, placing his hands on your shoulders to halt you. It felt like a dagger to his chest, the hurt that was now reflected in your eyes. His head lowered, unable to speak with you watching him so sadly.

“You don’t have to do this just for me…” He fully expected you to pull back and storm off. Maybe even smack him across the face.

“Good thing I’m not doing it for you then.” His head shot up, eyes opening in confusion.

“What-” you darted forward, claiming his lips. Raph stiffened, hands hovering in the air.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. Were you really kissing him because you were...

“Shit..” he groaned. At some point you managed to slip into his lap. His hands found your waist. You were so small compared to him. Yet, the way you were kissing him, it wasn’t hard to tell who was in control. When he felt your fingers trailing down his chest he almost lost it. His hands tightened on your waist and you moaned, rocking your hips into him. Raph parted from the abrupt action, gasping softly. When he pulled away he could see the need in your eyes. This entire time he wanted to convince himself that this was a pity kiss. Nothing more. He poured a bit of his heart and you were just trying to offer comfort.

The need glowing in your usually innocent gaze, it certainly had nothing to do with pity. You were panting, but your eyes were still marking his slightly moist lips.

“Raph..”

Why did you have to say his name like that. His will power went right out the window.

“Is this my present?” he smirked at you, and you grinned.

“It’s one of them.” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his neck and going in for another long awaited kiss. “I don’t care how other people see you Raph, because to me you’re just...you.”

He didn’t feel like he needed much validation from the world right then. Because if you would continue to stare at him with such unfiltered want, then he could do anything.

This was the first birthday he really didn’t mind celebrating. Now he had many more to look forward to with you.

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten - Part Six Return of the Nerd

Full story here

SMUT FO SHO MY BITCHES, CAUSE THATS HOW I DO!

Despite her failing protests Michelangelo personally escorted Aurora from the compound. She really had no choice in the matter, if she tried to fight him, she would attract unwanted attention and she’d be found out. Thankfully, Mikey didn’t seem too keen on bringing her to Bishop, he actually looked a little nervous as his eyes moved about the hallway seeming to keep her from full view of all cameras. But she had gotten what she wanted, confirmation of Bishop’s base, the one they had been searching for, for years. This was a good thing; it was a win in her eyes.

He walked her through the main gate making sure to keep his massive frame in front of the cameras and guards to shield her presence. This was all so surreal; so much had changed in the last few months. They went from trying to end her life to being unable to control their hormones like horny teenagers but still wary of her motives. She’d take it.

As they came to the edge of the compound’s boundaries Mikey stopped turning to look at the kunoichi. His large mitt palmed the side of Aurora’s throat before running up to cup her cheek. His rough thumb drug over her bottom lip and he let out a soft sigh which by the sudden bunch of his shoulder muscles was unexpected. His eyes scanned over her face and a look of contentment flash over his baby blues but morphed to concern. “Leo said you told him there’s something inside of us, all of us. What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she let it out ready to give him some answers his overactive brain was so desperately in need of, “It looks like a tiny metal octopus, like smaller than an eraser head. It constantly moves so it’s difficult to locate inside the body and why we weren’t able to figure out how he’s been controlling you all. We only found out recently and by pure accident. If only we had Donnie…..”

“Donnie?”

Closing her eyes momentarily Aurora let out a heavy sigh and she looked up into his baby blues, “He’s your brother. He went missing almost four years ago, a year before you, Leo and Raph were taken.” Another deep breath, but she decided to keep the new formation of Donnie trying to return from him. If he was lying, which he had always been a horrible liar but just in case he grew some new skills since he was reprogramed Aurora kept that little nugget of info close to her chest.

Mikey cocked his head rubbing the back of head, she could see him wince a little and his eyes fog over. “He’s a genius….purple.”

“Yeah, you’re right….Mike did that hurt you to think of that?”

“It felt like someone was trying to drill into the back of my skull. Fuckin burns man.”

Aurora moved quickly around to the back of the terrapin and pressed her palm to the back of his bald crown. There, she fucking felt it, the flutter of something under his flesh caught between his skull and his scalp. She reached for his hand and yanked it back to replace hers. “There! Do you feel it?!”

It took him a few seconds to feel the movement but when he did Mikey’s body jolted with surprise. “What the hell? Fuck!” His fingers cupped it trying to grab at it. “There is something in me! Cut it out! Jesus get it out!”

“I-I can’t Mike, that’s your skull, that’s a little more important than your shin or arm. It could get infected I don’t want to lose you to something as stupid as that. Besides its dark and I have nothing to grab it. My fingers would be covered in blood and that thing would slip free.”

“Fuck, it’s gone.” He began to touch his skin trying to find it again.

“The skull maybe blocks the transmission a little? I’ve seen your x-rays; you guys have thick skulls. Maybe the mutagen? I don’t know…..” Slowly she took his hand in hers pulling them to her cheeks, the gesture stopped his frenzy. “Why didn’t you turn me into Bishop? I was at your mercy and you didn’t give me over to him. You could have easily done so?”

“Your eyes.” He cupped her cheeks and locked eyes, “They’re the windows to the soul. The first time we ‘met’ I could see the sadness and the happiness all at the same time. You were legit happy to see us and then it morphed to sadness then terrified. If we had never met before, which we were meant to believe, I would have expected you to be terrified, which is what most people experience when they first see us. But you were happy, relieved even. Fuck, you even knew our god damn names. Like, I was shooketh! When we got back to base and I confronted Bishop. Bishop told me you were a kunoichi, you were a seductress using your womanly wiles to make us doubt the mission and must have gotten our names from a captured soldier. But your emotions were genuine, so I had trouble brushing it off. Then Raph had his little meet and great with you. You didn’t try to take him, just trying to talk. And then Leo, you could have easily killed him after you sent him to dream land…..awesome job by the way…..but you let him fucking go. What kind of enemy lets their enemies go? You didn’t hurt either of them. When I saw you in the hallway and the way you looked at me when I pulled you into that room, I could see happiness again. No one is happy to see us, not even Bishop. Right now, I can see love.”

Aurora could see tears begin to form at the corner of his eyes and her body responded following suit. “You were always so intuitive Mikey. I do, I love you, I love all of you. I miss you so much. I wish I could take you home with me.”

“I know, I know not until you get this slippery little fucker out of us. Plus, I need to stay here and make sure my bros are ok. He cut up Raph to punish Leo for not fulfilling the mission last night.”

“He did what?! That’s Raph’s blood on your hands?! …..Mission?”

“Calm down he’s fine, nothing life threatening. Leo was supposed to get loose and tell us where you were, but he never reported in. I guess Leo found something a little more entertaining.” He chuckled half heartily. “I don’t blame him…”

“Speaking of, how are you doing down there champ?”

“Blue balls for sure, but I’ll be fine nothing I can’t take care of in a little bit. If it wasn’t for all the security a few hundred feet away I’d have that pretty little pussy of yours stretched over this cock until you were hoarse from screaming my name.”

Heat flushed her checks and felt the warmth of new arousal bloom in her abdomen at the thought. “I’d let you too. But I need to get out of here before they get suspicious. I mean when you came down that hallway you looked determined. Where were you heading?”

Mikey’s eyes widened, “Fuck! I was going to get more bandages! I gotta go! I’ll see you soon Blondie!” and just like that he was gone, running towards the base at top speed. As he reached the main yard he began weaving around and jumping over bodies until he was a speck entering back into the compound.

It took Aurora less time to head back to her bike still being careful of motion detectors, she took to the streets and as she was a good distance away, she slowed her bike to a stop and pressed the com in her ear.

“White skull to base.”

It took a few minutes, but the familiar voice of Casey came over the com his mouth apparently filled with food. “This is Base, go ahead White Skull.”

“We have confirmation. Disneyland has been located.”

She didn’t go home right away, the talk of Donnie made Aurora take a detour to the lair. She informed Casey of her next stop and made her way below the streets. Everything was how she left it, dark and empty. Lights began to flicker on illuminating the large space; she moved to the kitchen pulling out a water and cracked it open downing the entire contents in one motion. She moved slowly eyeing the closed door to Donnie’s lab and decided that was where she wanted to be.

The door opened without a sound and she slipped inside keeping the arch in view. She willed it to come alive with power, to give her back Donnie. As she reached the piece of vexing machinery her fingers ran over the smooth edges finding them surprisingly warm. The lair was naturally cool due to the depth it laid so for the metal to be warm was odd. She moved to the controls and looked for any activity, lights coming alive under the key of the board, a flickering on the screen indicating any type of activity? Anything……anything of Donnie……

Minutes turned to hours, but she remained glued to her spot. Something in her gut told her to stay, not to leave the lair, not yet. Swiveling in his specially designed chair Aurora picked up a small device on Donatello’s desk and spun it around in her hands. It was glass, a cube to be exact, the reflective qualities were gorgeous, a prism effect. It was a light he had been working on, powered by the warmth from one’s hands. It only took a few moments for the cube to begin to flicker with the variety of colors of a rainbow. The longer she held it the brighter it got. When it reached the desired brightness, she placed it back on his work bench and stared into the shifting hues.

He had yet to perfect the device, it only held the charge for an hour or two, but he was certain he was about to have a breakthrough with the conversion of power. Something with the helix bonds or whatever. She knew he’d get it; she just didn’t think it would take this long.

She began to doze mesmerized by the lit cube. Her eyes half closed unfocused on anything she was suddenly aware the light was getting brighter? Did he fix something about it before he disappeared? Blinking her eyes rapidly she focused on the cube finding it like how it should be, dulling with time. Then what was that bright light?

The sounds of electricity crackling began to rise in volume in his lab along with the pulsing of light she had mistaken from the cube. The source now tore her gaze from Donnie’s work bench to the very much active arch. The light grew in intensity nearly blinding her as Aurora stood from her seat. She shielded her eyes with her arms and watched the arch snap and flicker with power.

A circle began to open within its circumference swirling between a greyish color and a bright blue. Then it started to fluctuate, and a figure began to form inside the growing vortex. The lines were fuzzy keeping the picture unclear, but her heart jumped and clenched with anxiousness at the forming figure. It had to be, it just had to be.

Without warning a burst of energy blew from the vortex sending Aurora back with its unexpected force. She toppled over his chair and into a stack of computer parts scattering them across the floor and Aurora on her ass. She quickly got to her feet and found the arc now stable giving her a perfect view of the genius. There was no flickering now, no waves of misaligns data, just a clear as day view of Donatello and it was glorious.

With unsure steps she made her way around the new mess on the lab floor but kept every sense, every ounce of her concentration on the tall missing terrapin staring back at her through the newly working portal.

She didn’t know when she had started crying but her cheeks were soaked and her voice unsure, but she called out, “D-Don?”

Donnie face broke out into an exuberant smile and he reached down for what looked like a bag and hoisted it over his broad shoulder. His left leg rose and slipped through the portal falling onto the cement floor of his lab and the rest of his body followed suit until he was living, breathing, real flesh and bone standing a few excruciating feet away from the trembling woman.

His tall frame was dressed in new clothes, his legs covered in properly fitted grey slacks with expensive looking custom black boots on his massive feet, old gadgets were gone replaced with smaller fancier items. His backpack was missing but his goggles remained but looked to have gotten a major upgrade. She could see his bo was still there also looking newer. Gone were his broken turtle glasses replaced with black rimed frames that better fit his face making the nerd look more sophisticated. Did he look bigger? The clothes were throwing her off. Where the fuck has he been? The words were on her lips, but she couldn’t move, all her screaming muscles cried out to touch him but she was paralyzed by shock. Four years, it had been, four years since she had seen him in the flesh.

The heavy leather duffle was set down and Donatello looked her up and down and he let out a long, very happy shuttering sigh. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His voice finally broke her from her paralysis, and she stormed forward leaping into his arms praying she wasn’t hallucinating but the solid body that caught her was very much there and very much real. He was home.

Her hands ran over him just to make sure, up and down his arms, over his neck to the top of his muscled shoulders. Her fingers worked the first few buttons free and felt the familiar scars and gouges of his chest nearly sobbing at the realization of his return.

“You’re here, you’re really here!”

“I am, god, it took so long but I’m here.” His finger hooked under her chin so their eyes locked. Purple and brown both flooded with happy tears. “I’ve missed you.” His lips found hers, soft at first growing with enthusiasm as Aurora responded with vigor.

As their mouths engaged and reengaged in desperate collisions Aurora began to finish stripping the genius of his fancy shirt. Her fingers pulled the fabric from his shoulders, down his arms until he was free. To her delight she was right; Donatello had been working on his fitness while he had been stripped from his family. Donnie had been no weakling by any means, the purple banned terrapin could easily crush a skull with his bare hands but he had bulked up in his time away. Eager fingers ran along the ridges of the solid definition squeezing hard with appreciation.

Their mouths broke free pulling in gulps of air and Aurora’s moved to his chiseled jaw line nipping at the scales until he was panting.

“Don” she mewled between open mouth kisses down his long throat, “Donnie……D……Donatello.” The more she moaned his name the louder he crooned until he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it free of her body in one fluid motion.

“Aurora.” He moaned cupping one breast with his free hand. Gently he squeezed and rolled the fabric over the mound finding the bud beneath peek quickly. His finger caught the bra and pulled it down releasing a breast to his gaze. With a heave Donnie lifted her higher so his mouth could cover the hot flesh sucking and nipping until her could feel the fabric of her pants dampen with her arousal against his plastron. “God, you smell divine. I want to taste you but I don’t think I can wait.”

There was so much to discuss, so much he didn’t know about. Donnie had no idea his brothers were no longer with the resistance and under Bishop’s control but he looked so happy in this moment and truth was so was Aurora. She would wait to break his heart, they would take this moment, they both needed it. It was a happy reunion and she was sure there would be more now with Donnie back. Gripping his cheeks she ground against him, “Then don’t.”

Donatello wasted no time and brought her over to his abandoned desk shoving everything from its surface. He dropped her down and yanked her boots and pants free of her body to begin fumbling with his belt. Aurora’s hands pushed them from the buckle and worked them free with trained ease. The button and zipper were next, teeth opening quickly but making sure not to harm the precious cargo beneath. When the massive erection sprung free of its confines Aurora’s hands were quick to gather the throbbing flesh in both palms.

The connection with hot flesh against her expert hands made Donnie groan in bliss. His hips shifted making his cock slide through her fingers and she gripped it firmly getting a shuttering sigh from the genius. Her finger found the dripping helm gathering the moister and ran the pad of her finger down the underside of his length staying with the pulsing vein. A hiss pulled through clenched teeth followed by a throaty call of her name. Aurora leaned back spreading her thighs giving him full view of her soaked folds.

His eyes blew wide at the sight and leaned forward grabbing her right thigh hoisting it up over his shoulder while pressing her back on the cold table. Reaching between them Donatello palmed his length running the spongy head through her folds drenching himself in her scent and essence. Donnie rumbled low closing his eyes to push the head of his cock just past her opening. He stilled at the tightness and the sound of Aurora’s hitch in breath. Rocking slightly he sheathed himself an inch before withdrawing nearly pulling free of her body.

“D-Donnie….please”

His eye opened looking down at his kunoichi, her face was beautifully flushed, chest heaving and her lips parted with rough breaths. Still only one breast freed from it fabric prison Donnie reached down to free the other. His large hands covered both mounds and the mutant eased more of himself into her, slowly, until every last inch of him was engulfed in the sweet wet heat of Aurora.

Both let out a shaky sign at their long past due union and Donnie leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He pushed forward again and the pressure of his girth and length made the woman beneath him mewl, arching and twisting to get him to move.

“Patience Rora, it’s been far too long since I’ve had you.” Slow and deliberate he began to withdrawal tilting himself so he would drag across the roof of her canal. “…far too long.” Reluctantly his hands left her reddened breasts and moved to her hips snapping his own forward with deliberate intention of making Aurora more vocal. He was rewarded pleasantly when her head snapped back at the sudden reentry and a whimpering moan of his name erupted from her throat. It encouraged the deprived terrapin further and Donnie repeated the process at an agonizingly slow pace until she was pleading with him to fuck her.

Aurora reached up to grab the rim of the genius’s plastron and she pulled him down, her mouth finding his hungrily. Lips parted, tongues wound together and the long lost familiar taste of the genius invaded Aurora’s senses like a barreling freight train. It came and she sobbed into his mouth but didn’t’ break the dance.

The pained sound didn’t startle Donnie but he did pull her closer removing all space that was between them. “I’m sorry.” He pleaded between each drive of his hips. “I’m so sorry.” With each breathless apology his rhythm picked up rutting into the kunoichi with fevered abandon.

His mouth disconnected with hers traveling down to her throat nipping and sucking making sure to leave marks. It had been years since he had seen his own brand on her skin and he was determined to leave enough so each time she looked in the mirror these next few days he would be the only thing on her mind.

Aurora rocked into each plunge of his length whimpering with each strike into her depths. This was so much different than the other day. When she had Leo it was him physically but Leo wasn’t there mentally; he was in his head locked away but not present in the act, maybe to some extent but she couldn’t be sure just yet.

Donatello was here, all of him; mind body and soul and it made the reunion much more intense. As he drove her to the precipice her hands groped at the dense muscles of his arms dragging him back into her. She was desperate for every inch of him, every drop she was prepared to receive.

She could feel it, the beginnings of her peek. It started slow like an over flowing sink, the tingling sensation of her climax rolled in her cunt moving to the stretched lips of her labia swallowing his pumping cock.

Donnie growled feeling her walls started flutter around him, “Are you going to cum for me? I’ve been dre-ahh-aming of his moment for almost five years now. How many times I’ve imagined you under me to give myself a little piece.” His hips picked up in speed to help her along chasing his own in the process. “Cum.” He demanded. “Cum for Donnie.”

With his command it rolled up her belly and spread like wild fire as Aurora toppled over her peek. Her climax overtook her body tensing, arching into him and she screamed. Open mouthed echoing into the once vacant room she came undone around him.

“F-f-uck, so tight…..I’m gonna…….” One, two, three more pistons of his hips and Donatello drove forward one last time anchoring himself as far as her body would allow. His beak nudged Aurora’s head to the side to expose her throat and his teeth latched onto the slender column to hold his lover steady as he gave her his release. His cock pulsated painfully and finally erupted with rich ropes of his ejaculate flooding her insides. With each ebbing flow of his climax Donnie rocked into her body with small shallow movements until every drop of his seed was deposited into her womb.

It took a few minutes for both to calm down, clinging to each other unwilling to disconnect just yet. He was still seated within her as her fingers ran along the top of his shell in slow soothing motions. She didn’t want to move, she just wanted to enjoy being close to Donnie, he was back, real. His smell was soothing, and his slowing heart beat that thudded against his plastron would easily lull her to sleep. But now it was time for questions, time for answers and he needed to know about his brothers.

Aurora’s fingers moved to his skull and moved along the back to run down the base of his spin that transitioned into his carapace. He shuttered at the sensation and finally leaned up to look her in the eyes.

“Hi.” He whispered ghosting his lips over hers.

“Hey yourself, nerd.”

His brown eyes moved over Aurora’s flushed features taking her in, really looking her over for the first time in four years. He could she was happy, and sated for that matter but there as something else in those violet eyes. Then it hit him, they usually moved in pairs, one of his brothers should have been in her company. “Why are you here alone? Are they at the base?”

She knew who Don was referring too and shifted under him. “Don…there is something I need to tell you.”

Donnie’s lazy smile lowered his afterglow forgotten. Slowly he pulled from Aurora’s depths and helped her from the table. His lips pressed in a thin line. “No, please don’t tell me……..they’re…….”

Aurora quickly grabbed for his face not wanting him to finish the sentence. “No! No, they’re not.” She watched his tense body relax at the knowledge his brothers were not dead. “But…they fell under Bishop’s control. Over three years ago Bishop set up an elaborate plan to capture them, you as well if you were with us. He tricked us with false information from a faulty lead and trapped them in an electrified cage. We weren’t able to get to them in time before he stole them away. We barely made it out with our lives as it was. It broke me, broke us, I don’t think the resistance ever fully recovered from the loss of you all. Casey and I ran into them a few months ago for the first time since losing them after trying to confiscate a tech truck that they were overseeing. Leo…Leo nearly killed me. They didn’t know who I was.” Her finger ran over the scar on her abdomen. “But that meeting triggered something in them. All three of them were then drawn to me; I’ve had rather intense interactions with each of them since then.”

She watched the emotions run across his face; confusion, anger, sadness and finally acceptance. “We’ll get them back. I promise I’ll work day and night to continue my work on how he’s controlling them. We’ll find them, bring them home, I didn’t work my ass off for four years and across several dimensions to not see my brothers again.”

“That’s the other thing Don, we found it.”

“Found it?” He parroted tilting his head in confusion.

“What Bishop puts in his victims to control them. It’s back at the base at R & D for analysis. It looks like a tiny octopus. We just need to figure out the ‘how’ now, and cut the communication and…. fuck…. we found Bishop’s allusive base tonight too.”

Donnie cupped her checks and pressed another life stealing kiss to her mouth. With a pop he pulled away with a toothy grin. “You have been rather successful without us.”

Eyes closed she savored his taste licking her lips, he still drank coffee. They had that where he was? “It took us a bit but you came back just in time to give us a win.” Then her violet eyes snapped open and her palm pressed against his chest applying pressure until the mutant fell into his computer chair with a grunt. She then climbed back on top the genius’s lap and gripped the sides of his plastron looking him square in the eyes. “Now genius…..spill it, where the FUCK have you been?”

His hands went back to her hips and let out a sigh, “That night when I disappeared I had an epiphany; I came down here with an idea that this thing could help us.” His long arm gestured to his most recent ride home and returned to her lower back to rub the pads of his fingers along her still exposed flesh. “I was working to use it to access different dimensions….eventually: the nexus, new worlds but what if I used it for a simpler purpose? Move our soldiers from base to a target location to utilize the element of surprise? It would lower the chances of casualties by 30%. I was just going do a test honestly but I must have hit the wrong the button and found myself sucked into the arch and in a new world a very strange new world.”

“How strange?”

“Like another version of my brothers and I strange.”

Aurora’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “More mutant turtles? Like you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yes I know, it was rather a large shock for me let me tell you. I dropped right into their lair right on top of another Michelangelo. They looked a little different than us, shorter, no clothes besides leather obi’s, knee and elbow pads. Younger versions with their Master splinter still alive, same dynamic though, with Leonardo still as leader. Their Donnie was brilliant; making miraculous things with trash, a very resourceful terrapin in deed. He had made a battle shell, a shell sub and a sewer slider, plus others. Anyways, naturally they were rather distressed seeing my tall ass drop in on them in their home unannounced. After a few hours of telling them my story, and talking about my own brothers and their similarities, Donnie and his brothers agreed to help me get home. As you can see it took longer than we thought it would, finding the right components and a power source had proved more challenging than anticipated. Then finding the right coordinates proved another hurdle to overcome. I got here on accident so it was trial and error until I saw you the other day through the portal. It was the most glorious sight I had ever seen but the power course failed under the strain, which is why I couldn’t come through. We needed to reinforce it to support the transdimensional pull from the other dimensions trying to break through. After we fixed that problem and your face appeared clear as day on the other side I knew we had gotten it right.”

She looked at him absentmindedly running her palms over his exposed biceps, another dimension with more mutant turtle brothers? How many more she wondered quickly before shaking herself from the thought. “Did they have their own Bishop?”

“Yes, actually they do, and strangely enough as Donnie and I were working one night he confessed his own trip to another dimension or terrible future, he wasn’t sure. It was around our timeline and age; I guess their Donnie had disappeared without a trace as well. Mikey had lost an arm, Raph his eye and Leo his entire eye sight. Casey had passed and the villain was shredder. He had enslaved the entire world killing master Splinter in the process which threw a massive wedge between Leo and Raphael, a very violent wedge that kept them apart for years.”

“Fuck….I…”

“There’s more…… they managed to defeat Shredder with Donnie’s help but Leo, Raph and Mikey perished in the fight. It happened years ago and it still gives him nightmares. It would me too, watching my brothers die right in front of me. I don’t think I’d ever recover.” Wiping away a stray tear Donatello gripped her body tighter remembering she had to witness them all ripped from her. “All these years you had no idea what happened to me and then you lose the rest of them. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. I promise we’ll get them back.”

She could see the anxiety rise in the genius as he began to process everything. How similar the scenarios were for both worlds and after everything he was still without most of his family. “Deep breaths Donnie, I need you level headed when we head back to base. I know we’ll get them back now that you’re back home. There’s a lot of work to be done and April and Casey are gonna be over the moon to see you. I’m so happy to see you.”

She was about to remover herself from his lap when she felt the head of his cock nudge against her entrance and soon found herself stuffed full of her genius once again. Donnie took Aurora two more times before he relinquished his hold on her and allowed her to dress.

Pulling her back into his embrace after watching Aurora tie her katana back to her hip Don pressed a few open mouthed kisses to her throat. “I’m sorry, I have four years of pent up need for you to work through. You’re not going to walk right for a week after I’ve had my fill.”

His voice dropped at the delicious threat making her shiver at his continued advances and lean into his plastron. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The run back to base was pleasant with Donatello right by her side. His long legs made him naturally faster which pushed her harder to keep up with the lanky turtle but the occasionally view of his perfectly round cheeks wasn’t a bad thing either. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into them later tonight.

“White skull to base.” Aurora called into her com as they moved to the final block of their trek home.

“This is base, please go ahead White Skull.”

“Will you tell The Curator and Meathead that I’m bring home a present.”

“Will do, ETA?”

“Five minutes.”

“See you then.”

Donnie slowed down looking at his kunoichi. “You’re not gonna tell them I’m coming?”

“I wanna see their faces when they lay eyes on you. I wanna keep that memory forever and put it with the same one we’ll get when your brothers return home.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @ravn-87 @alonia143 @tmntspidergirl @blossom-skies

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michaelangelo #the forgotten #part six #return on the nerd #aurora-the-kunoichi #self indulgent bullshit

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glenncoco4 · 3 years

Text

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 8

••••

Marty Deeks has been patient his entire life, whether that be waiting until Christmas morning to open presents or until a new Donnie & Marie album was released, but when it comes to one Kensi Marie Blye becoming his fiancé, he’s anything but. So he’s not at all deterred when he steps into the small antique shop in search of a ring. Her ring, without getting a yes first.

No, she hasn’t said yes to his proposal yet, but she did confess that she wanted everything with him. So even if it’s not a yes right now, it will be eventually and he wants to be ready.

Now here he is at the fourth store today, considering how large Los Angeles is and the amount of people, he thought it’d be easier than this. As he examines the display of unique and elegant jewelry, he begins to lose hope once again, nothing catching his eye.

The shaggy blonde’s attention is suddenly pulled away from his perusal when he looks over to the man behind the counter and the older lady that’s holding out something to him. He’s only a few feet away but the delicate features of the solitaire diamond ring scream out to him.

The older black woman feels the shaggy blonde’s stare, she turns, studying his face as his focus continues to stay on the ring in her hand. There’s one thing she’s learned in her 70 years of life and that’s the look of a man in love, but not just any love, a love that’s all consuming.

He’s pulled out of his trance, realizing that the two have stopped their conversation completely and the woman’s gaze is now on him. “I don’t mean to stare its just...”

“No need to apologize, I recognize that look on your face. Reminds me of my Henry.”

He flashes her sad smile, knowing just by the reverence in her voice that she’s talking about him in the past tense. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was my first love...my only love. Some people don’t get that in life, we were lucky.”

“I know what you mean.”

Something in the way he drifts off for a minute with a dreamy gaze makes her consider her ring and the love she hopes it will be a part of again. “Tell me your story.”

Never missing the chance to talk about his girl, Deeks feels his lips pull into an automatic smile. “I met Kensi when I was 11 years old. My mom and I were in a bad situation at home and her family took us in. That first night we were there I had a flashback of sorts, as I was sitting there paralyzed in fear, she wrapped her arms around me and some part of me knew that I was finally home.” Shaking his head, he thinks about how easy it is for him to tell this woman with deep brown eyes full of understanding how much his best friend means to him. “I know its crazy, she was 8 years old, I was 11, but it made sense in my mind. Growing up we were inseparable, still are. We experienced so many life changing moments together and apart, but no matter what we were there for the other. She’s my person...the person I go to for everything, no matter how big or small it may be. I’ve always felt like I’m my most true and authentic self around her and she around me. We’re just synced. A few weeks ago we finally realized what everyone else around us saw from the start, we’re in love. It’s been 20 years and she still makes me feel like that safe little 11 year old boy. I didn’t see any point in waiting any longer, so I proposed to her a few days ago.”

The older woman takes a look around the store, expecting to see the young woman since he’s already proposed, she’d imagine they’d want to pick out the ring together. “Where is she?”

He feels the heat rise to his cheeks, a little embarrassed. “Well, she hasn’t said yes yet. My Kensi’s a thinker, she likes to look at a situation from all views.”

“But you’re still looking for a ring?”

“Yeah, because I know that she’ll be ready one day and when that day comes I want to give her something special with meaning behind it. I’ve been looking everywhere for the perfect ring and I was losing all hope until-“

“You saw mine.”

He smiles hopefully as she finishes his sentence. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without hesitation, she extends the delicate piece of jewelry towards him.

He hesitantly reaches for it, looking to her for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. This ring deserves to continue being a representation of our kind of love. It represented mine and Henry’s for 50 years and now its for you and Kensi.”

“It’s so beautiful, I’m sure you could get so much more for it than what I have.”

“How much do you have, son?”

“Four thousand.”

It’s not about the money for her really and that’s when the idea strikes her. “I think we can make that work, but on one condition.”

It takes everything in him not to wrap the woman up in a bear hug. “Anything.”

“You let me meet this woman of yours.”

Nodding his head, he can’t agree fast enough. He thinks about his love and how sentimental she is, especially when it comes to their relationship. She’ll definitely want to meet that’s given them something so special. “I’d like that...we both would.”

••••

The next day at work its as if the universe is helping him out when the death of a marine who had suddenly come into a lot of money lands on their front door step. Of course its tragic but the shaggy blonde can’t help smile at the opportunity this case is bringing him.

Once the two pair of partners return from their respective assignments they gather in the bullpen, trying to figure out the different angels that could’ve resulted in the marine’s untimely demise.

“Maybe he was here to spend it.” Kensi speaks up, snowballing off of Callen’s statement about leaving behind a paper trail.

Sam’s eyebrows raise, nodding his head at the strong possibility that she may be right. “Corporal Peterson said he was thinking about getting married.”

“An engagement ring from Tiffany’s?” Deeks questions, knowing Corporal Porter had a serious girlfriend and it would be logical he’d be hunting for a spectacular ring now that money wasn’t really an issue.

The brunette locks eyes with her partner, flashing him a small grin. “You have no idea what that little blue box means to a girl.”

He smirks, thinking about the small delicate ring that’s in the black satin bag tucked in his wallet between a photo of them and Marg’s information. One of the main reasons he went in search at an antique shop is because he remembers the gaudy diamond ring Jack had proposed to her with and how it screamed the opposite of what his best friend was. That should’ve set off warning bells from the get go, because if there’s one thing Kensi Blye is not, its flashy. His girl isn’t one for bling and he knows the story behind the ring he bought will mean more to her than any content of a little blue box could. “Oh, but I do.”

••••

She’s been feeling him stare at her on and off all day...well more than usual. It’s when they’re walking towards the home goods store to question Porter’s girlfriend that she’s finally it. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

His brow furrows at her accusatory tone, shrugging his shoulders. “What, a guy can’t look at his fiancée?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Didn’t you?” He smirks, knowing good and well that they’re as good as engaged.

She shakes her head. He’s right, but there’s no reason for her to voice that, not that there’s really time to before they’re already at the front of the store.

As her partner goes off to distract Diane’s manager, Kensi’s able to question the blonde without interruption. It’s when the young woman talks about she and Porter picking out rings that she suddenly feels a strange kinship with her.

When Jack had proposed to her all those years ago she hadn’t really thought about how gaudy and so unlike her that the ring truly was. It wasn’t until he was off in Afghanistan that she would catch herself staring at the large diamond thinking that it didn’t belong there. Everything was different with him, she realizes that now that her rose colored glasses are off.

She’s been having these moments ever since Marty proposed, finding herself imagining what kind of ring he’d give her. He loves her like no other, he knows she’s not into blingy things. It makes her smile when she remembers all the times he’s seen women with large diamond rings and spouting off something about someone overcompensating. She’d laugh and that would make him laugh, and in turn they’d get stares from strangers making them laugh even harder. Never in her life has someone made her laugh the way Marty Deeks has.

Kensi’s focus goes back to the woman standing in front of her, against her own will the image of their roles reversed comes to the forefront of her mind. What if it was Marty that had been killed? The answer brings a gut wrenching ache over her.

••••

The jewelry store op had been a bust. As soon as the man behind the counter got a glimpse of Kensi’s bracelet the air shifted and they were immediately asked to leave. It may have not turned out like they planned but Deeks can’t help but love the fact he and his partner got to deceive their coworkers once again by “posing” as a couple. Kensi didn’t seem too keen on showing affection however, especially when Sam and Callen were just outside. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when the sharp point of her heel lands directly into the top of his foot.

So now here they sit in the bullpen, in silence, trying to figure out the team’s next move. He took over Callen’s chair so they could work more closely but neither have come up with any links to their victim in the myriad of old case files piled on each desk.

The shaggy blonde takes a look next to him, smiling at the pout that’s displayed on his girlfriend’s face. She hasn’t spoken a word in the past 30 minutes which is kind of worrisome. Afraid that he pushed to far by calling her his fiancée, he speaks up in hopes that she’ll respond. “Are you mad at me?”

“Dogs go mad. People...people get angry.”

The spark in her mismatched orbs makes him want to forget this nonsense and kiss her right then and there, but he quickly remembers the terms of their bet and knowing Callen isn’t anywhere around, he continues this little charade...for now. “Is this about the jewelry store? Listen, I was just trying to sell the fact that we were a couple.”

“Yeah, whatever. Like anybody would believe that we’re a couple.”

He has to hold back a laugh at her words because ever since middle school that’s all people thought they were. “You’re right. You are so not my type.”

••••

It takes longer than any of them anticipated but eventually Porter’s killer is caught. As Hetty congratulates them on a job well done, she hands Kensi a small ring box. The contents of said box are a delicate simple ring much like Diane had described.

She thinks back to the woman and her heart aches for the loss that she’ll never get over. The life that she’ll never get to experience with the man who she loved. She’s drawn out of her thoughts at the distinct laughter of her love filling the room. Looking across to Hetty’s office she watches as he exchanges some verbiage with Sam making Callen laugh and she could swear there’s a hint of a smile on the Operation Manager’s face. It’s then she realizes that she wants to accept Marty’s proposal. Who the hell cares that they’ve only been dating for a few weeks. They’ve known each other their whole lives and she doesn’t ever want to live without him. There’s just one thing she has to do first.

Taking out her phone, she presses call on the newly added number “Diane, hey, Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS. I was wondering if I could drop by. I have something that Tom left for you.”

••••

Deeks watched from the passenger seat of the SRX as his partner handed over the small box to Diane. As she pried it open, tears immediately sprang to the woman’s eyes and before either knew it her arms were wrapped around the junior agent in a giant bear hug. It suddenly made him think about what if he were the one that died, leaving Kensi all alone. The thought alone breaks his heart in two.

A few minutes later the pair bid their farewells and part ways. He’s surprised a little at the look in her eyes, its not one of sadness but there’s something else, something he’s not sure how to describe.

The shaggy blonde is so focused on his girlfriend that he doesn’t realize she misses the turn towards his apartment, instead she keeps going for a few minutes until she hits the Santa Monica exit. A few minutes later they’re back in the same spot at the overlook where they were just a week ago.

“What are we doing here?”

She turns towards him, that unrecognizable look still swirling in her mismatched eyes. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”

#Densi #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Densi Fanfic #Kensi x Deeks #NCIS: LA #You Can Count On Me

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molzies-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Cruisin’

A/N: I’m really glad for my first Leo one shot that someone gave me the basic plot points because honestly writing for Leo is gonna go one of two ways for me, I’m either going to write him super out of character (or base him off of OOTS which might not be the best idea in my opinion) or it will be in character for this type of fic and you guys will like it. But I promise I’ll get better at writing for Leo either way.

Updated A/N: I ended up writing so much for this but I’m so happy with what I wrote even if it is a little out of character. (2979 words)

Leo x female!reader

Requested by: @iamcheese13

Leo had made a habit of trying to leave without anybody noticing and hoping to god they just assumed he was in his room, meditating. But Donnie had knocked on his door and opened it to see if he was there to only come up empty three times this week. THREE TIMES. It was incredibly unlike the fearless leader to just vanish without telling the rest of his team, his brothers, where he was going. Raph knew how brutal he was whenever he came back from a trip to the surface by himself, it was like Leo was the mother hen but no one knew who would tell him off. Splinter? Yeah but it wasn’t like Leo was actually doing anything wrong.

Going up to the surface for a breath of fresh air wasn’t against the rules or whatever. It was the part about not telling his family that stuck out. Eventually even April and Casey started to notice that they saw less and less of the blue banded turtle. Suspicions were starting to grow and it just got to the point where they knew they had to follow him. If he was going out almost five times a week? Something was definitely up.

Following him down to the docks? It was a bit unexpected but it wasn’t like they knew where he was going. Stalking a ninja without being noticed was the hard part, with all the falling behind they did (especially with April and Casey) it was surprising that they hadn’t lost Leo at some point. Watching him walk into an abandoned warehouse was even more sketchy than they thought, so his brothers assumed that he was either being black mailed or he was dealing with crime directly…by himself.

A couple minutes passed and they saw a young girl, around their age, jump down from a boat and make her way into the warehouse with a bright smile on her face. Raph was having none of it, “What if she’s working for the foot?” he whisper shouted to his accomplices. It was a reasonable question, but as far as the brothers knew, Leo was alone with that girl in there.

*Leo’s POV*

I had been meeting up with her for a couple months now, meeting her by accident when I was out by myself one night near the docks. I liked to stare at the water to help me calm down and this was after a particularly nasty fight with Raphael. Next thing I knew, the wooden roof underneath me had gave way and I blacked out. When I woke up she was there, hovering over me and tending to what little wounds I had. She had somehow managed to carry me to her boat and had me resting on her sofa bed.

The way she looked at me wasn’t with fear or hatred, but concern and dare I say kindness. I learnt that her name was Y/N and she had loved the water all her life, when she was a kid she’d tell grown ups she wanted to be a mermaid when she was older. She loves all marine life, she told me turtles were her favorites, which (almost embarrassingly) made me blush. Hopefully I don’t think she noticed.

We became friends and for some reason I wanted to keep her friendship to myself. Which led to the sneaking out, not telling my brothers or my father where I was going, who I was meeting and why I went I meet them so often. You see, Y/N lived by herself, she didn’t have many friends in the city and all she had was her boat and everything on it. I barely fit under the deck so we ended up meeting in a warehouse nearby, it was warmer and had a lot more space.

Seeing her almost every day helped me regain my belief, that what we were doing for the city was worth it. That even when the people we saved ran away screaming, it was okay because they were safe and not everybody was going to be accepting to who we are or what we do. Even if all we did was help from the shadows, at the end of the day it was better than nobody helping at all.

But tonight? I wasn’t expecting things to go differently. I was expecting an easy going conversation with a girl that I considered as my friend…and nothing else! Nope. But no, my family had to step in at some point. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…awkward.

“So I told her that yes I do live on a boat but that it’s also none of her business!” Y/N was rambling about how her day had went, especially since she’d ran into someone she had known from high school. She had only graduated last year but nonetheless she wasn’t comfortable with people judging how she lived her life. “Good for you.” I chuckled warmly. Watching Y/N talk had slowly became one of my favorite things, maybe it was the way she described things or how she moved as she reenacted scenes but all I did know was that she looked beautiful. Wait, what?

A sharp tone sounded from Y/N’s bag, taking the irritating device out she answered it. “Oh! Hi Mom.” She blushed as she turned to face me, indicating the door she mouthed to me ‘Is it okay if I take this?’. I nodded, as if she had to ask, I knew she didn’t talk to her parents that often so who was I to say she couldn’t take a phone call?

Shooting me a bright smile before she scooted out the door, she gave me a small wave. I was still waving back even after she had closed the door. What was I doing? All we ever did was talk but I found myself wanting…more? God, just having her as my friend was enough and I was grateful for that but it felt like I had known for a long time that I was looking for a lot more than friendship. Maybe this was why I had kept her away from the others?

*Third person POV*

Crawling through one of the many warehouse windows, the others gazed down at Leo. He was alone and looked a bit…sad? Raph couldn’t help but feel like he was right, maybe the girl was working for the foot and had only just revealed it to Leo after he had given her all the information. On the other hand he should probably check in with his brother before jumping the gun, like he had ever done that before? There was something about how Leo was holding himself that made Raph think twice.

Jumping down, the others followed, with Casey falling into a pile of boxes becoming a clear indicator to Leo that he was no longer alone. Shooting up from his makeshift chair (a crate) Leo skittishly met the eyes of his brothers. “Oh-Hey! Hey guys…what’s up?” Blushing all kinds of shades of green, Leonardo internally face palmed at how he handled their arrival.

“What’s up? What’s up! You have been leaving the lair without telling us for months Leo! Months! We’re worried! That’s what’s up!” Raph yelled. He may not have jumped the gun but he still had a right to be angry. “I’ve…I’ve been busy Raph.” He mumbled pathetically, embarrassed. “Busy? How can you be busy? You haven’t got many hobbies besides taking down the foot! So unless you’ve been doing missions by yourself I want to know exactly what you’re doing?! No excuses!” Raph questioned harshly, Donnie and Mikey just looked disappointed with April and Casey awkwardly standing there witness the family argue. Well, one-sidely argue.

“I…met someone.” The leader muttered, hoping it wouldn’t go as badly as it had so far. “Oh you mean that girl? Who is she? Do you even know Leo? She could be working for the bad guys did that even cross your mind?!” The ran banded turtle accused. “She’s my friend and she saved me! If she was our enemy she would have left me! Or she would’ve hurt me by now, she wouldn’t have let it go on for this long!!” He finally snapped, not wanting Raph to turn his anger to Y/N. She didn’t deserve it after all she had done.

“Look bro just because you got a girlfriend doesn’t give you the right to just flake out on us and not tell us.” Mikey rubbed his arm, sad that all of the lying had to lead to this (but realistically how else was it going to turn out). “Mike I never meant for-wait you think she’s my girlfriend?” Leo’s blush returned in full force. The fact that other people saw it too made him think he wasn’t going crazy? “Well she is. Isn’t she?” April perked up.

“Uhhh-” Before Leo had a chance to explain the warehouse door creaked open. “Hey sorry that took so long my mom wanted to tell me about…macarons?” You seemed to question yourself as your eyes met the three other turtle men and two people. “Um…Hi?” You waved awkwardly, making your way over to Leo. “You didn’t tell me there were others like you?” You laid your doe eyes on him and all of a sudden it felt like his legs were made of jelly.

“Um, I didn’t know when to bring it up?” His voice squeaked as he smiled uneasily. “Well anyway, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you!” You beamed as you looked back at the turtles, making eye contact with the one that seemed to be glaring at you. “Huh, I’m sure you’d love for him to tell you everything wouldn’t you?” Raph snarked “Raph don’t.” Donnie finally spoke up. “No, maybe I should because nobody else will, not even Leo! Who’s supposed to be our fearless leader. It’s ridiculous! He’s so distracted he has no idea if she’s gonna stab him in the back or not.” Donatello glared at his brother as he made his argument right in front of you.

“Wait, you think I’m going to betray your trust?” Turning back to Leo, you needed to know if this was true. “My brothers do. I don’t think you would.” You could tell he was being sincere by how he was looking into your eyes. It made you want to melt. “Hey! Don’t group us into Raph’s spiel! We don’t even know her yet. Besides I don’t see why this is so different from when we met April and Casey.” Mikey reasoned. “Mike’s right. I’m April by the way.” She shook your hand, smiling warmly. “I’m Casey.” He introduced by waving behind the reporter.

“And I’m Michelangelo! Leo’s younger brother and the best looking of the group!” He winked as he slung an arm around you. Jealousy flared up in him for a moment, he shoved him off of you. “Sorry about him, he doesn’t know personal space is a thing!” He growled at the orange banded brother. You laughed at the interaction, “I didn’t know they were your brothers! That’s so cool!” Placing a hand on Leo’s arm you watched him calm down at your touch.

“Anyway I’m Donatello, some would say I’m the brains either way I’m far more intelligent than these knuckleheads.” The purple banded turtle quipped before Raph could throw a punch at him. You were still a bit nervous about him, he clearly didn’t trust you and was very protective of Leo and his family. “Don’t worry, if the others are okay, Raph will be too. He just needs time.” It was as if Leo could read your mind. With the amount of time you two had spending together lately, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had picked up on your mannerisms.

*a couple hours later*

“I mean…it wouldn’t be all that bad if Leo brought you by the lair sometime. Maybe even meet master Splinter.” Raph admitted. You’d thought it would take a couple of days, months maybe to earn even a shred of trust. Although the way you treated and held yourself around his brothers convinced him that you didn’t have a malicious bone in your body.

“Thanks Raphael.” You smiled politely, trying your best to not show how tired you really were. The others had called it quits for the night after hanging out for a bit, dawn was almost here and the turtles couldn’t be seen in daylight hours. “I’ll see you all soon, alright?” Patting down your pockets, you started to back away, double checking you hadn’t forgotten anything. “Aw hell yeah! Next time we see you, we’re playing Mario kart ‘kay?” Mikey pointed finger guns at you before bounding away. “Sure!” you giggled.

Donnie nodded, bowing slightly before walking alongside April and Casey who were yawning, leaning against each other. “I’ll walk you back to the boat.” Leo offered, giving you that smile with all the warm feelings behind it. “Thanks.” You grinned back, kicking the snow in your path into the frigid water below. Living at the docks was usually cold, but with Leo around it made you forget how alone you were, how cold reality was. You wish he was around more often but after tonight you realized how much he had given up just to come and see you. Even though what he did was wrong it made you feel…special, like you were special to him.

“Is it true you snuck away from your family just to see me?” Curiosity boiled over, the look on Leo’s face confirmed it. He felt guilty, you know that, but had it been worth it? “Yeah…it’s true. I just, didn’t know how to tell them…how to tell you, I can’t even imagine what master splinter would say if he found out I got knocked out so easily and was rescued by…you.” It seemed a bit back handed the way he had phrased it, like his father wouldn’t like you, but the way he had said it was completely different. His whole demeanor had turned soft and a short walk felt like it lasted an eternity.

When you reached the boat, facing him before saying goodbye, searching for the words you knew you had to say. Leo beat you to it. “I don’t want to make anything awkward between us after tonight. I hope you know that the last couple of months have been really…special, to me. I just want to know if they’ve been special to you too.” He admitted albeit sheepishly. “Of course they have Leonardo. I don’t think I could ever be awkward around you, if anything you calm me down. Even that night when I found you out cold in the shed, I knew I should have been panicking but knowing you needed help, my help, calmed me right down. Somehow I found the strength to get you back.” You let a little laugh, feelings bubbling beneath your words. You just wondered if he felt it too.

“I’m happy to have you in my life and I knew that meant introducing you to my family eventually. I just wasn’t expecting it to be in the form of an interrogation.” You both burst out laughing at that one. Starting to see color in your peripheral vision, you knew the sun was waking up. “Leo tonight was awesome, I don’t mind that you kept your family a secret, for whatever reason. Besides I look forward to beating Mikey at Mario kart.” Chuckling uneasily, you didn’t want to say goodbye, even if you were going to see him the next night. It had become less and less easy as your feelings towards him had grown. He gave you a half smile before stepping forward, the beginnings of sunlight glinting in his eyes. Your heart rate picked up as you realized you were practically chest to chest. “I’ll see you tonight.” He breathed. You could…you wanted to, but was it the right moment? Of course it was, but you could tell he was nervous underneath. His eyes were searching every other part of your fave besides your eyes and…lips. “See you.” You whispered slowly, dragging out the moment.

That was when his eyes met your lips, his head tilted slightly, sun rays creeping dangerously up his skin. All it took was breaking down the last of your resolve and trusting your toes to carry you the rest of the way. It was a brief brushing of lips, eyes meeting before he wrapped his arm around your back, his other hand cupping your cheek. He was surprisingly warm, each kiss told you that, even with your eyes closed you could tell he was smiling. He was buzzing with such happy energy. Wrapping your arms around his head in a prom-esque kind of way, you leaned into him, soaking in all the warmth before he pulled away for air.

You could see the sun rising in the blue, but you knew he was staring at you. “I really wish I didn’t have to go right now. I wish I could stay.” Leaning his forehead on yours, his hands on your hips now. All you could do was smile up at him. “Just think of it as something to look forward to tonight.” You smirked. “Heh, I tried to tell Mikey that I wasn’t ‘cruising’ or whatever but I realized tonight I kind of was.” He flirted back, kind of. “You tell yourself that honor boy, I’m the one who found you in the shed.” You laughed before giving him a gentle push.

“See you.” He pecked your lips again before finally separating from you. “See you then.” Beaming, you stepped onto the boat, watching him jog away with a wide grin on his face. Before you knew it he was out of sight and you were doing a little victory dance.

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danzinora-switch · 4 years

Text

Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 1 - Raphael

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Raph: ISFJ, 6w5

The Defender, The Loyalist, The Big Brother, did I mention The Defender?

Raph is always helping out the little guy, whether that little guy is Mikey, Donnie, Leo, April or someone else. In the first episode, Mystic Mayhem, Raph is the one who notices poor Mayhem alone and scared, and suggests they should help him. He just met the little furball, and even after Mayhem attacks his face he’s still ready to fight some dog-jogger Yokai to protect him. He’s there when April’s school is attacked by Hypno (Hypno! Part Deux) and when she just needs her fan fixed (Repairin’ the Baron). He’s also there for a myriad of underdogs, such as Guy Flambe (Pizza Puffs). Interestingly enough, that episode also indicates that Raph has taken to moonlighting as the hero Red Angel of Preventing Harm.

Raph at his Worst: What is Raph afraid of? Beyond Mrs. Cuddles. Raph is afraid of being alone. But he also feels strongly empathetic when others are alone: Mikey on a solo mission in Hot Soup: The Game, Mayhem in the pilot, Frankenfoot when he runs away. But why?

If we look through the lens of the Enneagram, Raph wants security and support. The system/structure he is most committed to is their inner circle of family/friends. So nothing must happen to those he loves!

Raph has also demonstrated Worst-Case Scenario thinking when he’s stressed. Alone for 5 minutes in Man vs Sewer? Expect the worst. In Nothing but Truffles, Mikey even flashes back to a Raph lecture about what to do in the event of a: shark attack, vampire attack, werewolf attack, and puppy attack.

That said, when someone does hurt someone he loves, or sufficiently threatens/scares him and/or his support system, all his disaster-planning goes out the window in an effort to SMASH IT LIKE A BOSS! (Counterphobic 6).

He puts a lot of pressure on himself, but it’s not really about failing in big moments (as Leo describes it in Mystic Mayhem and Down with the Sickness, but that says more about Leo than Raph), but more about letting the others down. He needs to open the gateway to the Mystic City or else they’ll lose April forever. He needs to think of something to ask for in the Must Say Yes stage that will please all his brothers and not leave anyone out. And, in Insane in the Mama Train, Raph is the one most affected when Splinter says he’s disappointed. The others were willing to brush it off and apologize, but Raph is aware that they let Splinter down. It’s something worse, and he feels that hurt, deeply.

Raph is also sensitive enough that he sometimes takes things too personally. When Mikey and Donnie have a good idea in One Man’s Junk, he internalizes it as ‘Raph never has a good idea’. Mikey sorts that out the best: “We’re not saying you don’t have good ideas, Raph. We’re just saying we do, too.” It seems to snap him out of self-deprecating funk.

Average Raph: Raph wants to protect those he loves from physical threats, but also emotional ones. That’s why he’s so bad at handling interpersonal conflict. He can’t yell at Donnie in Donnie’s Gifts. He can’t yell at (Mike? Lou? Tony?) in the Pizza Pit because “it’ll destroy him”. He’s super conflict-averse when it comes to those he cares about. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings (ISFJ). Mostly this is a kind, caring, compassionate trait, but sometimes the situation needs Dr. Delicate Touch.

He’s the supportive friend and brother. He’s always ready to help out, whether it’s fixing April’s fan (Repairin’ the Baron), rescuing Guy Flambe from Meatsweats (Pizza Puffs) or saving Mayhem from the mirror. He’s encouraging… but sometimes to the point of enabling. In Pizza Puffs he recognizes this the most and literally wrestles with himself over trying to let his brothers fix problems on their own without him there to protect them. Sometimes he can’t help but support his friends even when he doesn’t want to: when he’s volun-told by Mikey to help warm Draxum up to humans, he doesn’t ditch, and when April invokes the Birthday Card to help Warren Stone he honors it. He can be dedicated and loyal to a fault.

He can be a little short-sighted, at times. His team-building exercise in Stuck On You was meant to be a positive, brotherly, bonding experience, but suffered from serious drawbacks. His tenacity in smashing foes is admirable, but doesn’t always get the best results, something Donnie tries to get him to see and think through. But they’re also what makes him a force to be reckoned with. You do NOT mess with Raph’s inner circle and expect NOT to get smashed, hoss! And the fact that his brothers know that he has their backs like this is probably its own form of support and security.

Raph at his Best: He believes in the Mad Dogs the most, that they can be and are heroes. “We’re do-gooders! And what do do-gooders do? They do good! And they do good well.” (The Mutant Menace) His compassion and commitment to protecting the underdog keep the others on track and in line with their goals. He is the rock in the middle of the chaos.

Raph actually has good practical skills: he has the mission calendar that only he seems to consistently stick to, and clearly enough self-discipline to responsibly and reliably sleep with his retainer on every night (Flushed, But Not Forgotten)

He also has the most grounded sense of duty. When they’re watching the skateboarding livestream in Gilbert’s Department store in The Longest Fight, Raph is the one who first investigates what sounds like a robbery, and is the one who cajoles his brothers into fighting the Foot. It’s a ‘look, guys, we have to do the right thing here and prevent them from stealing!’ moment. Pizza Puffs: look, guys, you’re going to have to learn to solve problems without me, it’s for your own good! (He knows that’s what needs to happen, even though he’s at war inside over it).

Raph says: what’s the responsible thing to do? And he’s trying to get his brothers to understand this as well (Pizza Puffs).

Raph Relationships:

Donnie: despite the lack of a full Donnie & Raph episode, they have a few surprising things in common. They each have an episode where they want their brothers to learn something. Donnie, in Mind Meld, wants his brothers to be smarter and plan ahead. Raph, in Pizza Puffs, wants his brothers to use some common sense and be a little more responsible. They both like finding solutions to problems, just one focuses on technical and one focuses on interpersonal problems. Mostly (for right now, though) Raph can be blunt with Donnie. He’ll slap the genius in the face with reality. “Donnie! The mech is REAL!” (The Purple Game). “Donnie, I know you know how to say it. We’re all on to you.” (Air Turtle). This is one turtle with whom he can put his foot down and say ‘hey! Back to Earth, now!’ (I can also see them collectively sharing facepalm moments in the future).

Leo: there are times when Leo’s need to be the best and stand-out attitude clash with Raph’s focus on teamwork (Air Turtle, for example “take your win-at-all-costs attitude somewhere else, Leo, we need to work as a team!”) but they do get to a point where both of their strengths in the group strengthen each other, like how iron sharpens iron. Raph wants everyone to work together as a team, but Leo sees their individual strengths. Without that, we get Raph’s glueball disaster in Stuck On You, but together, we have their greatest moment in Many Unhappy Returns. Leo points out the parts each member have to play, and Raph puts it all together in one big plan to defeat the Shredder. “Trust me, bro.” “I do.” (I’m really excited to see where the show goes with this).

Mikey: the main Mikey & Raph episode right now actually seems to be Repairin’ the Baron, and there’s an interesting clash going on here. Raph believes and supports his system, his family. Draxum has been the mortal enemy of the Mad Dogs and deserves to be smashed. However, Mikey is adopting him into the family. Raph is not immediately okay with this, he has a hard time trying to change his inner world. But he cares about Mikey. As he tells Draxum “I’m still trying to get used to this, but Mikey thinks you’re part of the family. And the number rule of the Mad Dogs is: you always take care of family!” They’re actually very complementary, as Mikey can step in in emotionally charged situations where Raph can’t, and how his adaptability gets through Raph’s need for stability. (It will be interesting to see what Raph does as Mikey grows up).

Ultimately, I’m excited to see Raph grow as he figures out the best way to guide this team and save the world. Home is where the heart is, and he’s got a big enough heart to be the home for a lot of people.

So that’s my (unbelievably cut-down) analysis of Rottmnt Raph! I’m going to save the relationships with April and Splinter for later, since this is already too long. Here are the links to learn more about the ISFJ and counterphobic 6w5 if you’re interested:

https://www.16personalities.com/isfj-personality

https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-6

https://enneagrampaths.com/2018/04/09/im-afraid-im-going-to-punch-you-discussions-about-the-phobic-and-counter-phobic-enneagram-type-six/

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-6-wing-5

https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2016/01/mbti-and-the-enneagram-2/10/

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

#Donny Cates #Geoff Shaw #Dee Cunniffe #John J. Hill #Mark Waid #Me #Superman #Opinion

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waveypedia · 4 years

Text

Key to a Memory

(warning for swearing)

{people need a melody to open their eyes

like a key to a memory frozen in time

holding on to everything, you’re stuck in the past

boy dontcha know that the world moves fast

it’s been a little while since we’ve been together

it’s been a long time since we were young and wild, remember

when we were friends, remember}

May 14, 2019 I 6:26 pm

UNKNOWN NUMBER: GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: HEY GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s me Della!! Your bud!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m back from space!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t believe you have the same number you nerd! lol I remember when Uncle Scrooge finally forced you to get a phone and you got a super cheap one and then upgraded it with your own tech

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t wait to see how much more upgraded and fancy your phone is now!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: sorry for not texting you sooner I got back a couple days ago but things have just been really hectic since then ya know??

UNKNOWN NUMBER: anyway I know you’re probably busy changing the world and inventing amazing things for Uncle Scrooge

UNKNOWN NUMBER: he told me you got an intern!! Congrats!! I can’t wait to meet them

UNKNOWN NUMBER: just call me when you get a chance ok? I’d really like to catch up

“GYRO!!” Della screamed, kicking open the door to the lab. Gyro scowled at his desk and scrawled a quick note to outfit the elevator with self-opening doors. The scientist sighed and stood up reluctantly, stepping around his desk to be in full view. “What is it now, Della?”

Della sprinted into the lab, her grin threatening to split her face in two. She exuberantly waved a bundle of papers in Gyro’s face. “Donnie and I got tickets to the new Galaxy Wars movie, and you’re coming!! Thursday at 6!! Be there or be square!!”

Gyro snorted and gently waved her off, pushing the tickets out of his face. “Dels, I’m busy here. Besides, any self-respecting scientist knows those movies are garbage.”

Della fake-pouted and slung her arm around Gyro’s shoulders, despite the height difference. She had to lean and go up on her tiptoes to manage, making Gyro burst out in a fit of laughter. She shrugged, tugging Gyro down to her height. “Whatever. The premiere was a couple weeks ago, so you probably won’t get into a fistfight with an overzealous fan this time-”

“-Their fault-” Gyro muttered under his breath as Della prattled on.

“-Aaaaaand Cousin Gladdy’ll be there! With his luck we probably won’t get kicked out by the ushers,” Della finished proudly.

Gyro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Ugh, Gladstone? That man is too self-absorbed. Takes one to know one. And does that mean Fethry will be there as well?”

“Yep!” Della beamed. “He loves science, Gy, and he loves you! He’ll grow on you one day.”

“Highly unlikely.” Gyro shoved her arm off and stretched, standing up to his full height. “I grudgingly respect Fethry’s passion and his interest in scientific fields. He’s just so…” Gyro huffed. “Annoying.”

Della poked him in the beak. “Whatever. If you think Fethry’s annoying, my buddy Loopy from flight school will be there and she’ll blow your mind. But in a good way! Loopy’s amazing!”

Gyro groaned and slapped a hand on his face, slowly dragging it down. “Loopy and I are your only friends, aren’t we?”

Della puffed her chest out in mock effrontery. “I have lots of friends! I’m the best at making friends! They’re just all over the globe, you know, cause of all the amazing and daring adventuring I do!”

Gyro snorted and knocked his friend with his shoulder. “Whatever. When one of these international ‘friends’ comes around to Duckburg and hangs out with you beyond the adventure, let me know.”

Della smirked. “So you’ll be there?”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” Gyro affirmed, rolling his eyes.Della beamed mischievously. “Wonderful! See you there! Also it’s a sleepover and I’m adding you to a group chat specifically for this event now byeeeeee!!!”

“WHAT?!” Gyro squawked, racing after Della, but the elevator dinged and carried her far away. “Della! No! Come back! DELLA!!! I WILL NOT SUBJECT MYSELF TO THE TORTURES OF YOUR CHILDISH SLEEPOVER!!!” He chanced a look at his phone. It was already blowing up with texts from Della and Fethry.

Gyro groaned and slammed his head down on his desk, grateful for the solitude of his lab. He pulled up the calendar Scrooge filled with his deadlines from the board and added the movie night so he wouldn’t forget. A small, pleased smile played at his beak.

He picked up his phone, muted the group chat, and returned to his work.

read 9:28 pm

May 15 I 4:03 pm

Della Duck: hey dumbass

Della Duck: they have read receipts now stupid

Della Duck: I know you saw my messages

Della Duck: whatever I know you’re hella busy just call me when you get the chance

Della Duck: hahah did you see that? hella! I used new slang!

Della Duck: Louie taught it to me :D

Della Duck: I can’t believe his name is Louie and not Rebel! I’m kinda mad at Donald but also it suits him more than Rebel

Della Duck: Dewey though… he’s DEFINITELY a Turbo

Della Duck: Huey could go either way but he’s okay with Huey so I guess I am too

Della Duck: It’s a lot to take in

Della Duck: although Webby would be overjoyed to be Jet or Rebel

Della Duck: I can’t believe I have an extra daughter!!! how cool is that?? four kids for the price of three!!

Della Duck: or maybe it’s more like six kids for the price of three since Webby had friends over today and they all seem close

Della Duck: Ooh you know who would be a good Rebel? Lena! apparently she just came back from the shadow realm??? I missed so much

Della Duck: i can’t believe you guys got to fight magica de spell without me AND she had a kid

Della Duck: she’s still kinda hot ngl

Della Duck: but louie showed me a picture of her after she lost her magic and ehhhh

Della Duck: but also there are lots of hot people around these days and I’m kinda freaked out

Della Duck: like I made a best friend of my roommate on the moon!! Her name’s Penumbra but I call her Penny and I’d let her stomp on me. Best part is she probably would

Della Duck: also Uncle Scrooge got a new pilot & driver and I hate him cause he’s sorta replacing me?? But also he’s hot in a himbo kinda way

Della Duck: I know you have insanely high standards but you gotta back me up here gyro Launchpad is kinda hot

Della Duck: damn i’ve missed our conversations about various hot people and our lack of love lives

Della Duck: I told you about Penny you gotta fill me in on the current hotties in the Duckburg science community

Della Duck: I also met your intern! He seems nice ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: i can hear your voice. “Della that is an excessive amount of emoticons”

Della Duck: well if you want me to stop you’ll just have to reply ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: at least you’re not telling me to use “emojis”Della Duck: apparently they all have hidden meanings and I don’t understand

Della Duck: Louie, Dewey, and Lena tried to teach Uncle Scrooge and I

Della Duck: I’m ashamed to say I think he fared better than I did

Della Duck: he’s old!! He’s supposed to be clueless!! I’m not old I was just on the moon for a decade!! That’s gotta count for something right?

4:46 pm

Della Duck: i see how it is

Della Duck: ignore me all you want but i’m right

The sun was nearly below the horizon, painting the evening sky and the waves below it in a plethora of muted colors, when Della broke the topic. “Yo. I think Magica de Spell is kinda hot.”

Gyro swerved to stare at her so fast he felt something in his neck crack. “Magica?! She’s ancient; are you crazy?!”

Della shrugged, kicking sand around absentmindedly with her bare toes. “Yeah, but she doesn’t look it. She’s hot in an unattainable kind of way.”

Gyro snorted, loud and sad. “I know how that feels.”

Della nudged him teasingly. “What’s going on in your love life? I shared, now you have to.”

Gyro rolled his eyes and nudged her back, harder. “You know nothing’s happening.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like I have much time outside of work.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you refuse to take care of yourself and you act like you’ll die if you leave the lab,” Della said good-naturedly. “You should come on an adventure with us!”

Gyro sighed contentedly and waved her away. “I’ll stick to the lab, thanks. My inventions’ corrupted morality circuits provide me quite enough stress and adventure, thank you very much.”

(He couldn’t very well tell her that her dear ol’ uncle had entrusted him with the project of a lifetime, his chance to thank her for her gift of friendship, his chance to prove himself to Mr. McDuck for once and for all, his chance to redeem himself from the smoking failure that was 2BO. He didn’t have to run himself ragged working on the Spear of Selene day and night, but this was important, far more important than anything Gyro had worked on at McDuck Industries before. For his career, and for his friendship. And he wanted to do it right.)

(Shame he failed in the end anyway.)

Della sighed assent, smiling, and leaned back on her elbows, working her fingers into the sand. She had given up for now, but Gyro knew she would broach the subject again soon, from a new angle, with a new tactic. Della Duck never gave up.

“Maybe one day,” Gyro said, surprising himself. After this whole Spear debacle is said and done.

Della beamed and knocked her shoulder into his affectionately. “I’ll hold you to that!”

Gyro smiled wryly. “I know you will.”

Gyro pushed up his glasses and studied Della’s texts, willing his eyes not to unfocus and his brain not to zone out. He read them once, twice, three times. Four.

He began typing.

Gyro Gearloose: I remember-

Gyro Gearloose: My love life is as nonexistent as it was when you left-

Gyro Gearloose: emojis are zealous anyway-

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry-

He deleted his words, frustrated, nerves and old, painful memories rubbed raw, and never sent a reply.

June 11 I 2:09 pm

Della Duck: so Fenton and I went out for coffee today

Della Duck: not on a date, just as a chance to get to know each other platonically

Della Duck: he’s so much like you

Della Duck: not on the surface. In fact you guys are pretty much opposites

Della Duck: but you both care so much, even though you show it differently

Della Duck: i know you care your prickly demeanor can’t fool me

Della Duck: you’re both incredibly passionate about sciences

Della Duck: you’re both super awkward

Della Duck: he has high praise for you, and he really admires you, but it sounds like you’re not that close and I think you totally should be!

Della Duck: I know you’re probably annoyed that I’m meddling in your (love) life again, but get used to it!! I’m the best wingman and friend and I’m here to stay!!

Della Duck: even if you don’t text me back

Della Duck: (but seriously, please text me back. I miss you.)

Della Duck: he said you might need some space and I guess that makes sense but i just don’t understand why

Della Duck: that’s the only reason I haven’t stormed down to the lab by now

Della Duck: Did i do something before I took off for the moon?

Della Duck: or are you like Donnie and you’re mad?Della Duck: at least I think Donnie’s mad

Della Duck: or he will be

Della Duck: he’s on a cruise, Gyro! A fucking cruise!!!

Della Duck: he left the day I got back and now he’s gone for a fucking month

Della Duck: he thinks I’m dead

Della Duck: I miss him so much

Della Duck: the cruise doesn’t allow cell phones so I can’t even contact him and tell him I’m alive

Della Duck: But Huey and I sent postcards!! I don’t know if they’ll reach him but I really hope they do

Della Duck: Huey and Webby have been checking the mailbox meticulously to see if he sends one back

Della Duck: sorry for ranting

Della Duck: I just miss him

Della Duck: I miss you too you know? Yeah i’m being stupid sappy again but it’s dumb that you’re right here, across the city, and we haven’t talked

Della Duck: call me gyro you fucking coward

2:43 pm

Della Duck: also Fenton is totally Gizmoduck right

Della Duck: I met Gizmoduck once when he came to formally greet me

Della Duck: and i’ve seen him around the city lots

Della Duck: but they’re so similar. They have the same mannerisms

Della Duck: I guess that means you built his armor then right?

Della Duck: or you helped

Della Duck: it’s great Gyro

Della Duck: look at you! An invention that didn’t turn evil!!

Della Duck: I’m proud of you bud

“Have you ever thought about hiring someone to help in the lab?” Della asked one day, apropos of nothing.

She had dragged Gyro into a fancy coffee shop - one he’d probably be banned from had he attempted to patronize it on his own, and one he would be in the post-Spear of Selene era - and forced him to take a break from the top secret project he’d been devoting all his time to. They bought overpriced, bougie coffees on Mr. McDuck’s dime and traded jabs without any real bite to them, as was customary for them. Della mocked Gyro’s unique taste for black licorice, again. Same old, same old.

And then, this.

Gyro paused, his ceramic mug halfway to his face. “I’m fine on my own. Any help would only get in my way. They would stumble over their own feet and I would have to take precious time off of my own projects to tediously help them flail and fall.”

Della set down her coffee and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re so cynical. Besides, you’re working yourself to death down there! It might help if you had someone else to lighten the load.”

Gyro paused. “I suppose I might be more productive if I didn’t have to do the menial tasks beneath me…”

“-And you could make a FRIEND!!!” Della cheered, standing up and leaning heavily on the table, her enthusiasm thundering in full-force. “Someone to chat with on late nights deep in projects, someone who understands your passion for science, someone you can count on when Donnie and I are off on an adventure!”

Gyro groaned, startled at first but then settling into resignation. “I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

Della giggled, batting her eyelashes jokingly. “I only have your best interests at heart.”

Gyro shrugged and swirled his quickly-cooling coffee around in his mug. “Besides, Dels, you know there’s a reason you’re one of my only friends, right? You and Dickie and Daisy, you’re the people I’m closest with and that’s because you wouldn’t put up with my prickly, stay-alone-all-the-time bullshit. You guys drag me out of whatever place I’m holed up in kicking and screaming. Most people are not like that. I’m lucky to have three of you,” he admitted in the kind of moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability and clarity that only comes when you’re with someone you really trust.

Della snorted and reached across the table to shove Gyro gently. “Shut your self-depricating hole, Gyro Gearloose. Trust me, I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t want to.”

Gyro smirked, a small smile chasing away the dark storm clouds that covered his face. “I know, Dels.”

“Good.” Della replied self-assuredly. “I love Dickie and Daisy, and I love that they love you, but they’re not local. You need more friends, Gyro.”

“Maybe,” Gyro hummed softly, the closest he would ever come to admitting it. “But it’s even harder to get along with coworkers, and the chances of my subordinate being someone who actually wants to be friends with me is abysmal.”

Della shrugged. “Sometimes you learn to like each other. Like me ‘n Donnie! We drive each other crazy, but we have each other’s backs when it matters, and we’re always there for each other.”

Gyro snorted. “This hypothetical person and I will be coworkers, Dels, not siblings. That’s different. Besides, you and Donald love each other too much to be healthy.”

“Yeah, but Donnie and Uncle Scrooge and I are a little like coworkers, aren’t we? Adventuring is our job, and it’s very stressful at times,” Della said.

Gyro shook his head. “Dels, honestly, you have to get a job at some point. Mr. McDuck won’t let you leech off of him for much longer now, and you have no experience. It’s really not the same.”

Della shrugged. “At some point. I know Uncle Scrooge is biting at the bit, especially after Donnie joined the Navy, but I don’t want the responsibilities and schedules of work to tie me down and take me away from adventuring, you know? It’s the same reason I didn’t go off to college.”

“I still think you should have,” Gyro replied, smiling wryly. “You’re bright and you’d flourish being able to study what you choose.”

“I learn a lot adventuring,” Della replied smugly, stubborn as always. “I can speak seven languages fluently, you know!”

“Even if most of them are dead, or belong to otherworldly beings from alternate dimensions,” Gyro pointed out.

Della sighed contentedly and shook her head. “Whatever. What’s done is done, and I’ll get a job someday. But just think about it, Gyro, all right?” She locked gazes with Gyro pleadingly.

Gyro sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give it some thought. But don’t get your hopes up, all right?”

Della smirked. “Whatever you say.”

Gyro put his head in his hands, roughly shoving aside his expensive coffee. (He was lucky it didn’t crash and burn, like most of his inventions.)

She’s not gonna win this one, Gyro aggressively promised himself. I can’t subject anyone else to my bullshit.

(The only reason he assented and allowed an intern on, in the future, was because Scrooge all but ordered it. He saw firsthand the way having positive people around improves lives and wanted that for Gyro too, especially with Della gone and Donald barely speaking to him. And if Mr. McDuck’s not-so-subtle hints and gentle persuasion-turned direct orders gave Gyro crystal-clear flashbacks to Della’s not-so-gentle prodding, and if he cried that night after his boss left, well, no one would be anyone the wiser.)

(He got quite lucky with Fenton and Manny, though. Some of that was the Board's thorough vetting process, but some of it was Scrooge himself intervening, because he wanted Gyro to make a friend as badly as Della had.)

August 15 I 7:26 pm

Della Duck: all right

Della Duck: I talked to Fenton again

Della Duck: i’m sorry for bothering you

Della Duck: it hurts to not talk to you but I’m gonna give you your space

Della Duck: I’m here whenever you’re ready

Della Duck: but please be ready soon Gyro i’m impatient

I know you are, Gyro nearly whispered as he read the texts. It felt like a finality, a surrender. But that couldn’t be right, because Della Duck never gave up.

How could he and his stupid, stupid inability to communicate his feelings and face his irrational fears be the one thing that forced Della Duck to admit defeat?

(read 7:58 pm)

The McDuck Annual Holiday Party was in full swing when Gyro arrived quietly. Launchpad had offered to drive him with Fenton, Manny, and Scrooge when they left a couple of hours ago, but Gyro had stayed to put the finishing touches on his current project, lest he lose his motivation.

That was the only reason. Not because Della would be there, and he might be forced to talk to her. No, sir.

Gyro clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white in the pockets of his vest. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fooling himself, and he certainly wasn’t fooling his friends family coworkers. Every single one of them, even Mr. McDuck (now that was painful) had tossed him a look that ranged from disappointed to knowing to pitying as they left for the party. It made Gyro want to scream in rage and slam his fists against the wall until they were bruised and bloody. But even he knew that was unacceptable party behavior. (Mrs. Beakley had humiliatingly taken him aside for a quick rundown on which of his usual behaviors were not applicable at company parties.)

Steeling himself for a night of faux cheer and passive-aggressive conversations, Gyro quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Skirting on the outskirts of the party, he scanned the room desperately for allies to swarm to and enemies to avoid.

He spotted Fenton and Launchpad first, amicably chatting up the legendary Greek hero Storkules and his sister, the equally inexplicable and ethereal goddess Selene. (A mystery to unpack at a later date.) Beside them was the gruff Moonlander that Della seemed to love.

Gyro set his jaw. He could handle chatty immortals and aggressive aliens. At least they probably wouldn’t have a personal vendetta against him because of a malfunctioning invention or a poorly placed comment. He waded determinedly through the sluggish crowd, surprisingly stopped a couple times by friendly faces. (Boyd’s hug of greeting lasted almost three minutes, and that didn’t even account for the rest of the overzealously affectionate kids.)

Looking back, he’s lucky his the kids stalled him, because when he finally emerged from Webby��s hug, his eyes locked on his own personal horror story.

Della.

This was the first time Gyro had actually seen her since she’d come back from the moon. Her hair was longer, if only slightly, and her metal leg gleamed in the light from the chandeliers above. (His fingers itched to get his hands on it and upgrade it, toy with it, make it into a personal project, but he adamantly refused himself.)

Alongside the physical differences, Gyro noticed some changes to her demeanor as well. She seemed more… weathered, and tired, despite the ever-present spark of energy she seemed to radiate and her unwavering grin. It was cliché, and Dr. Gyro Gearloose hated clichés with a passion, but she had an almost haunted look in her eyes, contrasting her radiating cheery energy.

She was different, and he was different. So much time had passed. It seemed almost impossible that the duck in front of him was the same duck that Gyro had shared coffee and secrets with almost daily ten years ago.

And yet he yearned to return to their easy friendship. Not for the first time, Gyro wished desperately to go back in time a decade and stop the Spear of Selene from ever happening.

Della slipped between Penumbra and Selene, glowing in the way only an extrovert in social situations can. By way of greeting, she hugged everyone, even Fenton (!!!). She settled at last, hanging off Penumbra’s shoulder with Selene’s arm around her and Launchpad’s jacket around her shoulders (how she had acquired that, Gyro had no idea).

Unfortunately for Gyro, from her new position, she had a perfect view of him, stuck with only a single sparse group between them. Her eyes strayed to lock onto him and he froze, panic creeping in a mile a minute.For a moment neither moved, staring at each other.

She hadn’t texted him since August, true to her word, albeit how much it hurt for both of them. She had come to the lab a couple times, to pick up Fenton and/or Manny for coffee or to pick up or drop off Huey, Webby, or Boyd. But Gyro had always hid like the coward he was, terrified to face his best friend. The last time they’d talked was the day before Della took off in the Spear of Selene, ten years and eight months ago.

At last, after four months, and nine months of radio silence from his end, here she was, almost close enough to touch.

Then Gyro’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and he turned tail and ran, panic clouding his vision and his judgement. He shoved one of the Sabrewing husbands roughly aside (Scrooge would undoubtedly make him apologize for that later) in his frantic quest to escape all the raw emotions, of hurt and guilt and self-hatred, that sprung up all of a sudden.

His eyes locked on a door and he wrenched it open before slamming it shut. He leaned hard against the door, hands clenched around the handle, breathing hard.

Only once the panic began creeping away and his breathing slowed did Gyro finally process his surroundings. He was in a small broom closet, filled to the brim with glittery party supplies Mrs. Beakley had probably denied Webby. (She would probably find a way to sneak them into the party sometime later.)

And perched precariously on top of a box labeled “glitter fireworks” was a woman Gyro had met once, in the Old West, two hundred years ago.

Goldie O’Gilt sized him up, panicked and ruffled, and apparently decided he was no threat. She slid gracefully down from the boxes. “What brings you here, to the closet of forgotten and abandoned party supplies? Girl troubles?”

Gyro wanted to laugh, because technically, she was right. “I’m gay,” he replied, giving her his best deadpan stare. It was lacking.

She assessed him, trying hard not to smile, before bursting out laughing. Gyro barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “People problems, whatever. Please. You can’t fool me, hun.”

Gyro crossed his arms testily. “Why are you here? Away with you.”

Goldie grinned smugly, pretending to examine her nails. “Oh, nothing special. Just some extra fun for Scroogey later. May or may not involve glitter fireworks. You?”

Gyro snorted, without any real humor behind it, and rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, I have better things to do than watch you drive Mr. McDuck up the wall. See ya.”

“This is about Scroogey’s rediscovered niece, isn’t it?” Goldie called after him, as if as an afterthought.

Gyro froze, his fingers curled around the doorknob. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t, really,” Goldie hummed, faking disinterest. “But spare an old woman some juicy gossip, would ya? ‘Sides, I’m a professional conwoman. I see all the angles, and yours is in plain sight.”

Gyro scowled and shifted so he could see Goldie’s face again. She was smirking, small but triumphant, which did nothing to quell Gyro’s steadily growing mix between annoyance and panic. “And I suppose this has nothing to do with ‘Aunt Goldie,’ would it?”

Goldie shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile on her beak shifted into a small pout of annoyance. “I’ll do you a favor and be honest with you. Cherish this moment; it won’t happen again.”

She sighed and leaned more heavily against the precariously stacked boxes. “I may have missed Della and her adventurous, rambunctious spirit over the years,” she confessed, suddenly looking a good deal more like the age-old tired adventurer she was. “It hurts to see that spirit quenched, especially when I just got her back. She hasn’t even frustratingly tagged along to one of Scroogey and I’s not-so-solo adventures! And… I care about her. She’s almost my niece.”

Gyro frowned, stunned at Goldie’s clarity. “...Oh.”

Goldie straightened up and whipped out a shiny knife from the folds of her dress. “But tell anyone, especially Della or Scrooge, and they’ll never know what happened to ya,” she warned, wagging the knife in the direction of Gyro’s face.

He pressed himself against the door while maintaining his scowl, despite the fact that it was too far away to hurt him. He knew what she could do if she put her mind to it. “I won’t.”

Goldie slipped the knife back into the folds of her dress, where it seemed to magically disappear from her hand. “Good. Now go get my niece’s spirit back,” she instructed strictly, shoving Gyro not-so-subtly towards the door.

He wrenched it open and slipped surreptitiously outside, glancing around the party. The crowds seemed to have thinned a little.

Gyro spotted Della easily. She, Donald, and Mrs. Beakley were gently corralling the gaggle of children upstairs - it was quite late, after all. Gyro started to step towards her, then hesitated.

He chickened out and sprinted unsteadily outside instead, taking in big mouthfuls of the refreshingly cold December air.

The chill set in after a few moments and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, and despairingly started the long trek away from the mansion.

His phone was buzzing with worried texts from his friends (and Della, no doubt), but Gyro set his jaw and walked on, stubbornly ignoring their annoyingly righteous concern. No use telling everyone he lost his nerve again, just like every time Della texted.

Gyro gritted his teeth and pulled the collar of his jacket over the lower half of his face as protection against the biting winds. The physical pain lessened, but the icy feeling in his gut did not. He balled his hands into fists, as if to physically punch his overwhelming guilt and regret away.

I’m a bad friend.

Early April was always a little tough for Gyro, with the anniversary of the destruction he inadvertently sowed in Tokyolk. It got better with time, but the early years were always a little rough.

(And after that he always had another grief-filled and regretful anniversary to observe in April, anyway.)

He was pushing through it, though, by throwing himself into his work. This year was especially easy. The Spear of Selene was almost done, and would probably be finished just before the eggs’ hatching.

The last time he talked to Della was when he was taking a quick, rare break the day before what would be the second-worst day of Gyro’s life. (Tokyolk took first, if only narrowly.) He had gone off on a quest in search of coffee - he was at the launch lot, and he’d unfortunately been banned from the closest coffee shop. (It was their fault anyway - what kind of coffee shop didn’t want an automatic coffee bean stocker? Even if it tried to stock customers when there were no beans left? Really, they shouldn’t have run out of beans. And his price of free coffee for life was so reasonable and small, really, when he usually frequented the one closer to the lab. Their loss.)

“Gyro!” Della sprinted up to him, face flushed from running in the chilly winds and early spring air. She held out a coffee from the aforementioned shop to him with a grin, prompting his frustrated rant, but Della just let him prattle on with a goofy grin gracing her face.

“What’s going on?” Gyro finally demanded, after watching Della beam ardently at his violent threats and calls for justice and revenge towards the coffee shop. “Your smile is… sillier than usual. Which is saying something.”

Della waved him off, his insult breezing past her. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see!!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is it a good surprise?”

Della beamed triumphantly back at him. “Definitely.”

Gyro frowned dubiously, but he knew Della well. For all her recklessness, when she was this sure about something, her judgement was usually worth listening to.

(Later, he’d wish he hadn’t listened to her, and trusted his own gut, for once.)

He shrugged. “I highly doubt it’s as good as you think it is,” he replied haughtily, prompting carefree laughter from Della.

“It definitely is. Just you wait.” She reached out with her free hand and booped him on the beak, causing him to reel back, away from her. “I can make an educated guess that you’ll love it.”

Gyro rolled his eyes at her rudimentary science terminology, causing her to giggle. “If it’s another movie night with Fethry, I’ll pass.”

“Better than that,” Della promised, her smug grin turning downright devious. It didn’t faze Gyro in the slightest.

He shrugged carelessly. “With you, that could either mean better or worse. Otherwise known as pure, unadulterated torture for me.”

Della laughed, but her smile softened into something more vulnerable and emotional, no longer masked by a carefree and reckless demeanor. “I’m telling you, Gyro. You’ll love it. Come on, when have I ever been wrong?’’

Gyro barked a laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that? Because I have a full comprehensive list at the top of my head, and that only covers the basics.”

“Hating black licorice doesn’t count,” Della protested. “It tastes worse than every iteration of Hell, and I’ve been to every iteration of Hell!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you taste every iteration of Hell?”

Della rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever. Just trust me on this one, will you?” she asked, hitting him with that almost vulnerable expression again.

Gyro huffed. “Fine.” He stuck a finger pompously in the air. “But I reserve the right to pass judgement when I see it.”

Della sighed without any real weight behind it. “Fine, whatever you want. But trust me, you’ll be blown away by the amazingness of this surprise!!!”

“We’ll see about that,” Gyro replied, smirking. “Now, away with you!! I have a highly important project to finish - which is unanimously more important than whatever surprise you have cooked up - and I simply cannot afford any distractions!!”

Della snorted knowingly. “Whatever. See you tomorrow at my amazing surprise! And you’re welcome for the coffee, Mr. Banned-From-Coffee-Shops!!”

Gyro shook his head fondly and made his way down the hill back to the lot. The Spear of Selene loomed in front of him, shining in the weak midday sun. It seemed frozen, waiting, on edge.

“Soon,” Gyro promised to no one in particular. He climbed inside to make some last-minute tweaks to the nuanced controls. “You’ll be in the air by May at the latest,” he promised, patting the cold metal of the rocketship. “Just let me make sure this is perfect. So nothing could ever go wrong.”

Jan 3, 2020 I 5:47 am

Donald Duck: hey asshole

Donald Duck: fyi Della’s really upset

Donald Duck: she really missed her friends ya know?

Donald Duck: Look, Gyro

Donald Duck: I know how this feels

Donald Duck: I know you’re scared

Donald Duck: but dude you face scarier stuff every day when your inventions go evil

Donald Duck: if you can face Lil’ Bulb turning evil not once but twice and still call him your son I think you can face your best friend

Donald Duck: and i know I said some shitty things to you the day we lost her and I’m sorry, that was uncalled for

Donald Duck: I was upset, as were you

Donald Duck: I forgive you if that’s not clear

Donald Duck: i forgave you a long time ago

Donald Duck: Della has too

Donald Duck: she never blamed you

Donald Duck: except maybe for the flavor of Oxy-Chew. But that saved her life, Gyro!

Donald Duck: I know I said your invention killed her, but your invention also saved her, and after she fixed it your invention brought her home

Donald Duck: now she’s back, but you’re losing her again

Gyro stumbling blearily awake, fumbling for his glasses, tired and disoriented, was nothing outside of the norm. He was a secluded, inane inventor with few friends, little social interaction, and no sleep schedule. Not to mention the plethora of projects piled on his desk vying for his attention, and the ever-present mug of coffee in his hand. (At the moment, there was a half-empty one on his desk, placed precariously on top of some blueprints.)

But his latest cup of coffee’s predicament was the least of Gyro’s worries at the moment. Because his phone, charging on his bedside, was blowing up. And that was decidedly not normal.

Gyro, at this point in time, didn’t have social media yet. (Fenton, Louie, and Dewey didn’t exist in his life yet, and so they had not had a chance to plot and execute an intervention.) Sometimes his phone blew up from the group chat with Daisy and Dickie, or the group chat with Della, Daisy, and Dickie, or just Della when she got excited. Or Fethry, once in a while, but Gyro was certain he’d blocked Fethry’s number this time.

Gyro clumsily put on his glasses and pulled himself up into a sitting position, still half-asleep. He scrolled through his notifications, frowning.

Mostly missed calls from Donald and Scrooge, a couple confused text notifications from Gladstone, two missed calls from the Board (that couldn’t be good), and one from Roxanne Featherly, a trainee journalist under Angus Fangus who had taken an unfortunate liking to calling him whenever one of his inventions went haywire.

Panic began to stir in Gyro’s gut.

The weirdest part, though, was that most of the notifications had not come from Della. She was by far his most ardent caller, and she had called, a couple times, but they were all over an hour ago. They were all buried by the rest of his missed calls.

Odd. Very odd.

Gyro tried calling Della first, to soften the blow of whatever was happening. Della wouldn’t sugarcoat the problem. She knew better. But there was something about her contagious enthusiasm and optimism, as well as her face-it-head-on attitude, that made whatever issue was at hand seem less daunting.

But his call went to voicemail.

Gyro shook his head, confused and more than a little scared at this point. Della almost never refused his calls, even if she was on an adventure (as long as she had cell service). It annoyed Donald to no avail, but Gyro was grateful for it - he didn’t reach out for social interaction with no reason.

But now? It only scared Gyro.

He frowned, contemplating, and called Donald next. Scrooge was more likely to call unprompted than Donald, and he didn’t want to deal with the Buzzards or Featherly yet, so Donald it was.

He picked up on the third ring.“Oh, so now he picks up!! When he can’t be of any help!! What’s the big idea, Doctor?!”

Gyro scowled, annoyance beginning to mix with the terror in his gut. “For your information, I just woke up. Now, what is going on?! Della won’t answer my calls and I have an ungodly amount of notifications at three AM. Seriously, people.”

“You want to know what is going on?!” Donald screamed, his voice and temper steadily rising. Gyro flinched at the volume, but kept the phone pressed close to his ear out of half morbid curiosity and half unwanted worry. “I’ll tell you what’s going on!!! Scrooge just killed Della!! And he used your stupid, untrustworthy invention to do it!!!”

Gyro nearly dropped the phone.“...Killed?” he nearly whispered. “How? The Spear of Selene isn’t ready yet and-”

“She took it!!” Donald screeched. “She took that good-for-nothing rocket and flew straight into a cosmic storm!”

“She wasn’t supposed to!” Gyro spluttered, numb. “She wasn’t even supposed to know about it yet!”

“Well, she did!” Donald spat darkly. “And now she’s gone. She left her boys orphaned. What were you thinking, making her that rocket?!”

“It was Mr. McDuck’s idea,” Gyro whispered numbly, automatically. “He- I- We never thought-”

“Scrooge,” Donald growled, and if Gyro knew him well enough he was dragging a frustrated hand down his face. “Of course. He’s too reckless and careless. He killed my sister.”

Gyro rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, unable to think of a coherent response. “I- I don’t think-”

“That’s right, you don’t think,” Donald snarled. “None of you do. And now my sister is dead, thanks to Scrooge. And you. Lose my number, Gyro. You won’t see me again.”

Click.

Gyro stared numbly at the floor, his phone still pressed against his ear, as the dial tone played. Finally, he slowly lowered it to his side and dropped it on the bed next to him before taking off his glasses and dropping his head into his hands.

Then, finally, he cried.

Della Duck. Dead. His best friend. Dead.

It was impossible, improbable. Della Duck was a famed adventurer barely two decades old. She breathed life. She had faced perils and terrors far worse than a cosmic storm, sustained injuries far worse, and bounced back.

Dead.

Because of Gyro’s invention. Maybe if he had worked a little harder, been a little more meticulous, he could have saved her.

He had failed again, gambled and lost with precious lives again, caused death and destruction again. It was Tokyolk all over again, and this time, the lost stakes were even more personal.

Gyro grabbed his phone suddenly, shakingly off the bed and pulled up Della’s contact. Her face beamed back at him, so full of life it seemed to burst from the tiny circle on his cracked phone screen.

He called her again, listening to it ring with baited breath even though he already knew the outcome.

“Hey, this is Della Duck, adventurer extraordinaire! I’m probably trekking through the Amazon or fighting a demon monarch in another dimension right now. Catch ya later!”

Gyro hung up before she could finish her last syllable and sobbed.

February 28 I 2:26 pm

Della Duck: fyi I’m picking Huey up today instead of Launchpad since he has a sleepover with his friend Jason today

Della Duck: you know

Della Duck: in case you wanna hide from me again

Della Duck: btw do you care if I snag that magnifying glass that shrinks people in like a month? We’re gonna go to Miniapolis soon

Della Duck: i mean i’m gonna take it anyway but figured you might want a heads up

March 14 I 5:18 pm

Gyro Gearloose: go ahead

Della Duck: GYRO!!!!

Della Duck: oh sorry

Della Duck: look I’m really excited but I also don’t wanna come on too strong

Gyro Gearloose: you’re fine

Della Duck: :D

Gyro Gearloose: it’s my fault I was being a coward

Gyro Gearloose: i couldn’t face my emotions and that was shitty of me

Della Duck: Gyro i took off in a rocket at midnight without telling anyone and left my kids without a mother for a decade

Della Duck: i win for stupid shitty actions here

Gyro Gearloose: it’s not a contest

Gyro Gearloose: we’re both shitty and stupid let’s leave it at that

Della Duck: yeah ur right

Gyro Gearloose: but dels

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry

Gyro Gearloose: it’s been almost a year and i fucking ignored you

Gyro Gearloose: i had the chance to get you back and i didn’t take it

Della Duck: hey

Della Duck: it’s okay

Della Duck: i know this is all a lot

Della Duck: i’m here now and that’s what matters

Gyro Gearloose: della i’m so glad

Della Duck: hey Huey is coming to the lab today

Della Duck: what if I come to pick him up and then you and I go out and catch up?

Della Duck: get expensive coffee on Uncle Scrooge’s dime just like old times?

Gyro Gearloose: fuck yeah

Gyro Gearloose: I’ve missed our expensive shitty coffee and gossip

Gyro Gearloose: I have SO much shit to talk about Dr. Akita

Gyro Gearloose: god

Gyro Gearloose: I hate him now

Della Duck: oh man

Della Duck: Huey told me a bit about Tokyolk but I want to hear all about it for you

Della Duck: and Boyd!!! Omg I can’t believe you’re a father

Della Duck: he’s so sweet

Gyro Gearloose: I don’t know if I’d call myself a father he has the Drakes

Della Duck: but you want to be don’t you?

Gyro Gearloose: ...yeah

Gyro Gearloose: but i’d be a shitty parent you know that

Della Duck: actually I don’t think so

Della Duck: i’m a shitty parent and I’m doing fine

Gyro Gearloose: what a surprise

Della Duck: wow thanks for the vote of confidence

Della Duck: but Beakley Donald and Scrooge are helping me

Della Duck: we’ll help you

Della Duck: join the shitty parents club!!

Gyro Gearloose: haha all right

Della Duck: also

Della Duck: i want to hear all about fenton

Gyro Gearloose: then I want to hear all about Penumbra

Gyro Gearloose: you’re not the only one who can play the love interest card

Della Duck: joke’s on you I WANT to talk about penny

Della Duck: anyway i’m leaving now

Della Duck: see you soon!!

Gyro Gearloose: i can’t wait to see you and your ugly 10-year-old clothes

Gyro Gearloose: seriously you’re wearing almost the exact same outfit

Della Duck: uh HELLO you have no right to shit on the way I dress look at yourself

Della Duck: you dress like a very old gay man

Della Duck: i mean that vest?? really?

Gyro Gearloose: at least i’m not old

Della Duck: touché

Della Duck: LP is driving so i’m almost there see you in a sec

Della Duck: and i’ll probably grab that magnifying glass now

Gyro Gearloose: that’s fine

Gyro Gearloose: i missed you

Della Duck: aw you old sap

Della Duck: never thought i’d hear you say anything like that tbh you’ve gone soft

Gyro Gearloose: I realized recently that my greatest mistakes were not as black-and-white as they seemed

Gyro Gearloose: and if Boyd can forgive me for unknowingly letting Akita turn him into a weapon of mass destruction and for me ignoring him for years and belittling him throughout this trip

Gyro Gearloose: and if I can face both brainwashed 2BO and Akita and win with the “power of love” or whatever than maybe I can talk to you

Della Duck: damn

Della Duck: I have SO many questions about Tokyolk

Della Duck: but i can hold onto them for a minute

The lab doors dinged open, but Della was sprinting out of them before they were fully open. The rest of Team Science watched warily as Della rushed towards Gyro, beaming and laughing, joy seeming to spill out of her. They expected him to hide, or push her away. but to their happy surprise, Gyro met her halfway and wrapped her in a hug.

Or, Della nearly crashed into him and squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe, prompting some annoyance, but it was crushed under the sheer joy and emotions of seeing his estranged best friend after eleven years.

Gyro laughed shakily, holding back tears, until he realized Della was crying too. She got snot on his work shirt, but he didn’t care.

They held each other for quite a while, until Della finally pulled back, wiped her eyes, and socked Gyro in the shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again, you hear?! I will hunt you down! I’ll give you your space but I’ll hunt you down! I won’t let this happen again!”

Gyro smiled and wiped away his own tears. “Yes, ma’am. Now, coffee?”

Della beamed. “The expensive kind. You got it.”

“It’s about time,” Manny tapped grumpily in the background, with Huey, Fenton, and Lil’ Bulb adding their agreement, but Della and Gyro ignored them as they flounced out of the lab.They had eleven years of friendship and gossip to catch up on, after all.

{it’s not too late, it was

never too late}

woohoo this is a wild ride! i didn’t intend for it to be this long but it just got away from me. Della and Gyro having a friendship, especially before the spear of selene, is one of my favorite headcanons. I think Della would basically grab Gyro and force him to be friends with her and to hang out with her haha.

I have a hard time writing Gyro as mean as he is in canon because I’m a sensitive sweet bean who isn’t creative or socially adept enough to come up with good insults (yet, hopefully). but i’m getting better! i hope this read as somewhat in character. same with Goldie, i’ve been trying to figure out how to write her for two years now sdfghgfds. I think I got Della’s character somewhat down though!

soft Gyro is more of an interpretation (albeit supported by canon) than canon fact but I LOVE it and i’m writing four (counting this) fics based off of it so get ready for that

the title and song lyrics are from People Need a Melody by The Head and the Heart. That song is really special to me because it was my closing song for camp last year (we would sing a song special for each unit each night before bed). I didn’t plan to use this song from the start (the working title was “DR. GYRO GEARLOOSE GET OFF UR ASS AND ANSWER UR PHONE -Della”) - I was listening to it one night, nostalgic for camp, while writing this fic and I realized the lyrics fit!

(also I was on a call for colorguard while I was writing this author’s note and my instructor said “I hear a lot of typing” lol)

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #gyro gearloose #della duck #ducktales fanfiction #wavey writes #my fanfic #donald duck #fenton crackshell-cabrera

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

Text

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 5/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family

for @melodiousmelodrama

As expected, your parents welcome the turtles into their apartment, offering them a safe space for as long as necessary. Their only concern is for the wellbeing of their new friends.

“Just for the day,” Leo tells your family, and his brothers look up, none protesting but clearly confused. “I have a place,” Leo explains. “It’s not set up or anything. We have a lot of work to do. Donnie, you’ll need help bringing stuff your stuff up from the sewers and we’ll have to abandon the van for a while-”

“Whaddaya mean, ya have a place?” Raphael sits forward, leaning onto his knees where he sits at Gram’s feet helping her roll cakes of yarn.

“An abandoned subway station. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.”

Donatello rubs his chin. “Subway?”

“Are there trains?” Mikey’s open expression is full of wonder and hope.

“Yeah. There’s a car for each of us. No more bunk sharing or falling all over each other, fighting for space. But, the place needs some work.”

"Oh." Mikey's enthusiasm wavers as he spares half a glance toward Raphael, but he smiles up at Leo. "That's cool, bro!"

"Yeah, Leo." Donatello adds from the kitchen. "Sounds great."

Leo tries not to take their drop in enthusiasm personally. But after all the work he’s putting in - searching for a place, fixing it up - even this slight rejection hurts. "Look, I wish we could get an apartment and play house with all this fancy stuff too, alright? But don't get used to it. This isn't our life. It's never going to be. The subway's gonna be good for us. You'll see."

" 'Course it is, man. You always know what's best." Raphael sounds sincere, but Leo turns in a huff as if his brothers had turned up their snouts at his announcement.

"I'll show you to a room where you can get some rest," you say gently. The whirlwind of the past 36 hours must have him exhausted. You could use some sleep as well.

Leo thanks you for access to the shower and for the bed, your bed, your room. And he turns himself in.

You call out of work and get a few hours of sleep before restlessness kicks in. You're not used to sleeping during the day. When you wake up, the guys are in various states of unrest as well.

Leo still hasn't come out.

Donnie announces, "He's asleep," and his brothers don't question it. But you raise an eyebrow at his quick assessment. "I compared his breathing against known patterns. It helps to know the difference between Leo asleep, Leo meditating, and Leo pretending to do either."

"Didn't take him for one to play pretend."

“He keeps his secrets," Raphael says, his tone a bit bitter. There's a history there, you think. "But he's always got his reasons. Thinks he knows what's best for us." Raphael shrugs, as if coming to a conclusion he's come to before. "He usually does."

No one is surprised when Leo sleeps through the day. And no one blames him. But when the pizza delivery fills the apartment with the smell of hot tomato sauce and melted cheese, they all expect him to show at the table. He doesn't, and even Mikey can't make his "More for me, then" sound free of his worry.

"Is he gonna be alright? If we leave him?" You want to go to him. You barely know Leo, but he's let you see him vulnerable before. You think maybe his vulnerability is one of the things his brothers know he hides. Maybe he doesn't realize they see. Anyway, you don't want to force him.

"Sensei usually knows what to do."

"Splinter-” you nod along “-have you heard from him? Is he coming?"

Donatello shakes his head, but doesn't seem concerned. "His last transmission noted his safety. He'll contact us again soon."

You pick olives off your pizza and line them up as you think aloud. "Until then, you'll help Leo with the station?"

Raphael piles three slices onto his plate, before lifting a fourth from the box straight to his mouth. "We go where Leo goes. He found us a spider-infested death trap to live in… we'll go."

An olive slips off the rim of your plate. "How did you know it was spider-infested?"

"Ya came in before covered in cobwebs and shit. But whatever. Sewer wasn't no palace either." There’s no embarrassment or judgment in Raph’s tone. Leo should be here, hearing his brothers support his decision.

"He seems really excited about it. I mean… hopeful, y'know?"

"Yeah." Donatello passes you his slices of mushrooms and you pass them on to Mikey who gobbles them up with gusto. "We never said we didn't like the idea. It's just not home, that's all."

You can sympathize. "We moved around a lot when I was younger. Always trying to find a better placement for mom. A safer community for me to grow up in. It wasnt the house that made it home. It was having my family around."

"Yeah, yeah,” Raph grumbles. “Real Hallmark life changing stuff. But he's not worried about keeping us together, remember? We each get a car to ourselves. He's splittin us up."

Mikey goes quiet, stops eating, drops his hands into his lap.

You don’t know what to do, what to say, to make this better. You think, if they would just talk to Leo about this, it could all be straightened out. But the rest of the meal is silent. It seems the brothers don’t even feel up to talking to each other.

When Leo emerges from the room, he announces it's time to go. "We have to patrol. They tried to hit us where it hurts. But we're resilient. And we’re not going to let the Krang take our city.”

You narrow your eyes at Leo and wonder if he’s ignoring the strain on his brothers - or if he just can’t see it. You wonder if he can read the loss in their eyes, if he can understand that ordering them to brush themselves off and push through another night of patrol might not be in their best interest right now.

Leo stands taller. “I said, we’re moving out. Let’s go.”

Donatello is the first to stand from the table. He grabs his pack from behind the couch and waits by the window while Leo opens it and climbs into the night. Raphael knocks Mikey’s shoulder and jerks his head toward their brothers as if to say, “We better head out too.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” You look at their plates of half eaten food and wonder why Leo hadn’t at least let them finish.

“Forget about it,” Raph says with half a frown. “We knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Yeah, right,” Mikey agrees, heading for the fire escape. “We don’t belong in some fancy place like this. But I really like how the carpets match the drapes.”

The observation awards him a smack on the arm.

“What? What’d I say?”

“Kids,” Raphael chuckles, embarrassed for everyone in the room. “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. Excuse us.” He ushers Mikey out and refuses to explain innuendo to his little brother. “Thanks for all the, uh… thanks.”

Mikey looks back at your family before he leaves. “I really do like the-” his compliment becomes a shout of surprise as Raphael tears him away from the window and to the roof.

Over the next few nights, you get rather used to seeing turtles on the roof. The Krang’s forces are growing in number, but as they continue to remain in hiding, everything feels like speculation. And so, the turtles rotate watch on your building. It makes stargazing more interesting. Especially on nights when Donatello is around. Raphael is kind of a mess. Always on high alert and rarely interested in standing still long enough to enjoy something as simple and amazing as the moon and stars. But Donatello is full of knowledge about the cosmos.

Some nights you and Donnie discuss the possibility of life on other planets. It seems like Donnie enjoys the distraction, until you realize he’s talking about the likelihood of alien attacks.

Mikey has a special interest in astrology, which surprises and delights you to no end. He loves telling you his brothers’ horoscopes and making connections within their lives to prove how absolutely on point astrology is.

Finally, you ask, “How do you know when your birthdays are? I mean, weren’t you all exposed to the mutagen at the same time?”

Mikey explains, “It’s all in the stars. I didn’t choose our birthdays. Our birthdays chose us.” And points to the astrological chart in his lap as if it held the answers to the universe, which, if he were to argue the point, it did.

You just nodded, letting him have his way.

Leo doesn’t patrol your roof. Not once. Not, like, ever. And you’ve looked for him. You’ve asked about him. But the most you’ve ever gotten is a weird sigh from Raphael and some grumbling about Leo cleaning up his own messes.

After two weeks, you drop the subject of Leo completely. If he doesn’t want to see you, then you definitely don’t want to see him.

“How is the new place coming along?”

Mikey rocks from side to side on the edge of the building where the two of you have been tearing up bits of dying leaves and let them float on the wind. “I got my own room.”

Through the corner of your eye, you catch Mikey worrying his bottom lip and decide to wait for him to say more before responding.

“I’m right between Donnie and Raph. It’s pretty cool. I got a bed. And, uh, my music and stuff is all set up. But Raph took half the comic books. Donnie said I can borrow the textbooks anytime I want but…”

“What was your set up like before?”

“Huh?”

“At the Lair. Did you each have your own room?”

“Oh. No. Well, Leo did. He and Donnie had their own. Raphie and I shared,” Mikey’s voice got quieter as he spoke.

“What was it like, rooming with Raph?”

“It sucked. He smells bad after workouts and his cologne smells worse. And he says I snore. And he always moved my stuff and used my headphones without asking.”

“And you miss him.”

“And I miss- Hey…”

“It’s OK to miss him.” You pass Mikey a new leaf to tear. “I bet he misses you, too.”

“I bet he misses my headphones. For sure. He’s always breaking his.”

“He ever break your stuff?”

“Nah. Never. I wasn’t scared he was gonna break ‘em. I just didn’t want them smelling like Fierce by Abercrombie & Fitch.”

You laugh at that and Mikey loosens up a bit. “You share a wall with Raph, right?”

Mikey shrugs. “Kinda. Like a window.”

You lean back on your hands for support and look up at the sky with a smile. “I have an idea.”

#tmnt x reader #gender neutral reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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