#he probably does go inside to bathe but sneaks out because the guilt hits him and he can't handle talking me again

[nadineselfships-archived]

Hard Decision

Pairing/s: John Seed/Nadine Sinclaire

A/N: FIRST REVERSE AU FIC ARE YOU EXCITED? John's had a long day and has an Interaction(tm) with The Baptist, let's go.

TW/s: drowning mention(very brief and vague)

It was another long hard day for John; running from peggies, getting attacked by wildlife and getting captured by James to top it all off. He never understood why James bothered capturing his siblings and himself, all he ever did was rant about how what The Mother was doing was for the good of everyone and how they'd be free from the pain if they just accepted her word.

His words never made much of an impact and they always escaped with nothing but bruises and lost time.

Michael's methods never really work on John either, no one's ever been able to get into his head and mess with him very easily so of course Michael can't either. Which just ends in John getting roughed up as Michael gets more and more frustrated with his witty quips and sarcastic comments.

The only member of the crazy cult that ever gets to him is Nadine, the self mutilating Baptist with the confidence of a lion. Whenever they speak to him on the radio or capture him John always feels himself get lost, he hangs off every word and follows every movement. They were probably his biggest threat, if them attempting to drown him didn't prove that, and yet he was utterly drawn to them.

He couldn't explain why his heart ached as they spoke about their childhood, or why he felt the need to reach out and kiss their scarred skin and comfort them when they looked at him with a shielded gaze. John never dared tell his siblings what really went through his head whenever he returned from an interaction with the youngest Sinclaire sibling. Joseph would be appalled, Jacob furious and Rachel ever so dissapointed.

He couldn't bear that.

So why, he wondered, was he currently crouched in a bush in front of Nadine's ranch watching them through a window? This was wrong in so many ways and John couldn't figure out what he was doing, there were patrols of peggies wandering the grounds and at any second one could spot him. Why was he risking being here? Why, when all he wanted to do was rest, was he risking his life to see a glimpse of the enemy?

The enemy that said his name in such a way that left chills running down his spine and a fire ignited within his ribcage. The enemy with eyes that so desperately beg for his attention and drown him in their intensity whenever he meets them. The enemy that is staring at him right now-

Shock washes over John and his body goes rigid. Nadine's now standing in front of the window and leaning against it, smiling at him in a way that showed their own surprise. Surely he wasn't so exhausted that he just threw himself straight into their lap this time? Apparently he was, and, apparently, he had.

John doesn't know what to do. He's afraid, he tells himself. The electricity dancing along his spine and through his veins from their gaze is nothing but his nerves screaming at him to run. He knew he'd been caught because the peggies began to walk to their cars and drive off. The radio in Nadine's hand being the culprit for the act he was sure. A different response than he was expecting but even more unsettling somehow.

The sound of static from his radio nearly topples him over, the world had been nothing but white noise a second ago and suddenly all he could hear was Nadine's dangerously inviting voice.

"Johnny what a surprise, I heard you saw James today, have fun? He told me you left in the middle of your playdate though, that was a little rude don't you think? After he went to all the trouble to set it up for you too."

Their voice was like honey as they casually walked through their home, John watching them with wide eyes as they dissapeared from one window and reappeared in the next. He couldn't find his voice to retort anything witty or sarcastic, he couldn't even get himself to stand and run like he knew he should.

"You look tired Johnny, why don't you come inside and rest your weary little head a moment? I'm sure your little 'friends' can manage without you for an hour."

John's heads snaps to the doorway as he hears Nadine speak but not from the radio. They stand on the patio so confidently, as if there were no possibility he'd take his rifle and put a bullet in their head. He knew even if he wanted to he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Nadine's eyes are peircing, he can see a demand in them, one that's always there. Say yes. That's all they want. John shouldn't be conflicted. He should shoot them and walk away, tell Joseph they can now move into their ranch and have one less cult member to worry about. But he can't. He can't say yes and he can't walk away. He was truly lost.

This wasn't a normal situation, he wasn't tied to a chair and he didn't have a gun to his head. He could leave whenever he wanted. But the way Nadine leant against the railing of their patio had him hypnotized. He stood shakily and the way Nadine's eyes lit up when he did caused nothing but more indecision.

His hesitations cause Nadine to move, they walk to the stairs of the patio but each step down them is a step John takes backwards. They pause at the foot of the stairs, dissapointment flashing in their eyes but quickly being hidden with amusement.

"You've come all the way here John. Why come all the way to my home if you're just going to sit outside and watch me? What's the goal? Was this a stake out? Collecting information for your brothers? Planning to take over my ranch?" Nadine slowly saunters forward as they speak, anger flashing in their eyes as they let their theories run wild in their mind.

John is backing away as quickly as his lead heavy legs will let him, his blue eyes are fixed on Nadine's intense gaze and before he knows it his back is against a tree and they're standing three feet in front of him.

"It wasn't a stake out. Joseph and Jacob don't even know I'm here." The words clumsily stumble out of his mouth before he can think. He curses himself as a sly smile stretches across Nadine's face. Why did he lose the inability to make good decisions or think clearly when they were near him? It's like he reverted back to before he was able to form a coherent thought process.

"Now I'm even more intrigued, you're here alone and you didn't tell anyone were you are. I really thought you were smarter than that Johnny, or, maybe you've just finally come to see the truth. That I'm right. And you're here to finally give in, it would be nice to end our little cat and mouse game wouldn't it?" Nadine took a large stride forward and smiled giddily up at him.

They were close enough that John could faintly smell cedar wood and mint, an odd yet intoxicating mix that was so uniquely them. Or just their choice of bodywash, a small detail John didn't linger on for long.

"Sorry to dissapoint doll, but I'm not here to confess my sins." John quips back, finding a small surge of bravado to hold onto as he straightens his back and looks down at them. A frown wipes away their smile and John feels uneasy under their glare.

"Then what? What could you possibly be here for?" Nadine snaps, the aggression and irritation the same as it always was when he refused them. He should be more afraid, should have flinched at their quick spark of anger but instead he softens. Amidst the anger is always floating specks of rejection and hurt and John can't help but want to take back his words and say something else.

But he can't. His family needs him.

Nadine needs him. He thinks he might need Nadine.

He shakes his head, begging the intrusive thoughts to leave him alone so he can section Nadine back into the bad guy box with their siblings and be at peace. But life's not that easy and not so black and white, no matter if Joseph or Remiel wanted to beleive it was.

"Bath." John can't think of any other lie and he feels embarrassed as Nadine's brows furrow and they stare at him in confusion.

"I was going to wait until you left and have a bath." John expands the lie, hoping it was close enough to being somewhat believable. Nadine looks unimpressed.

"I see." The mutter plainly. John is just relieved they beleive him.

Until they're moving again and reaching out their hand to tuck a loose strand of his hair back into place. John's face is on fire, their hand grades his forehead for a second and John can feel his mind racing.

"You do look like you crawled out of a cave this morning." Nadine hums, eyes dragging over him from head to toe and leaving him feeling vulnerable and bare even though he was well armed and fully clothed. They turn and walk away, back to their ranch and John tries desperately to ignore the cold empty feeling they leave in their wake.

"You can use the bath, I've got no where to be however so if you plan on waiting me out you may be here a long while." Nadine walks effortlessly back into their home, not turning back once and leaving the door wide open for him.

The only thing left for him to do was make a decision.

[yuzuriha-sayori]

Hi we all need more benimaru fanfic so can you make a benimaru x reader fic with beni taking care of a sick reader with lot of fluff thing ♥️♥️♥️

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader SFW where his lover is sick and he is trying. He is trying his best. No title yet but still wanted to post, forgive me.

The Guardhouse to Company 7 was more quiet than it had been in weeks. Besides a few hikeshi doing their usual cleaning, it was a really peaceful day. Except for the violent sounds of someone expelling their morning breakfast as if it sat in their stomach any longer, they would die. It was an awful sound. It was so loud that it startled a few men down the hall as they polished the floor.

Benimaru pushed his way past the noren that served as the entry way to the Guardhouse. "She's throwing up again?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda worried." Said one hikeshi who poked his head behind the corner from the hallway. "She's been throwing up almost every hour since sunrise, and it isn't even noon yet."

Another one of Benimaru's men also poked his head out. "[Y/n] might need to have someone check on her, but we can't afford to get that sick."

Their captain's eyebrow twitched, "Well neither can I." He sighed in frustration and sat on the genkan step and slipped his boots off. Placing them facing the door. Careful not to step on the ground below, he got up and made his way to where [y/n] was.

As soon as he made it to her door, he could hear the sounds of her emptying her stomach. "You sound awful," he said as he slid open the shoji to her room. "...You look awful too," he added as he stepped in.

[Y/n]'s face was in a trashcan in her lap. Her [h/] [h/c] hair was disheveled and matted and the haori that she stole from his room clung to her shoulders from sweat. She looked up and he could visibly see that maybe she did need some taking care of. "I told you not to come in, Benimaru-san. You can't afford to get sick." Her voice was so weak and soft, Benimaru thought she'd crumble away if she spoke again.

"Do I look like a man that listens?" He said, crouching down to her level. Brushing the hair away from [y/n]'s face, he put a hand over her forehead to feel her temperature.

[Y/n] loved his large hands and had to resist the urge to nuzzle her face in the one pressed against her forehead. "I would appreciate it if you at least listened to me," she croaked weakly. She knew however, that he wasn't going to.

"If you did give me what you got, it'd be burned out of my body before I even not--" Before he could finish, [Y/n]'s head shot down so fast and threw up in the trashcan again. "Damn, how much you got in that stomach of yours?" She couldn't answer however, seeing as that she was busy throwing up. And he really didn't expect her to anyways. He got up and went towards the door.

"I'll bring you back some medicine to help settle your stomach." He said as he stepped out of her room. Before shutting the shoji behind him, he added, "Change into your onsen robe. You need to wash all that plague off of you before you kill all my men off." Her middle finger shot up and even though he was already walking down the hall, he could definitely feel it and chuckled lightly to himself.

----

"I need all men to hurry and clear the bathhouse, unless you want the plague." The captain spoke rather nonchalantly but it took no time for his men to scramble out as if their life depended on it. They didn't need to ask questions because every man knew exactly what he was implying and they wanted no part in it. "You all get passing marks."

"Waka, I found medicine for [y/n]'s stomach." Benimaru turned to see his Lieutenant standing at the door of the men's bathhouse. "I added it to her tea and she's drinking it now."

In Konro's hands was a tray with crackers and sliced pears. He held it out to Benimaru. "Have her snack on this half an hour before bringing her to the bath. If she can keep it down, I'll make her a more solid lunch."

Benimaru sighed and gave his lieutenant a small grin, "Thank you." He took the tray from Konro and sighed. "She looks like she really does have the plague."

"She would have been better had someone not been so afraid of getting sick." Konro said with a smirk.

"Tch." Benimaru had indeed been avoiding [y/n] since last night which is probably why she stole his haori. He knew she wouldn't ask for him in fear of him getting sick, which made him feel slightly guilty. "I haven't seen you go in there!" He started making his way back to [y/n]'s room.

"She's not off sneaking to my room late at night though Waka!" Konro called jokingly. He was just loud enough for his captain to hear him, which made Benimaru book it a bit faster. All while mumbling strings of words the twins would have a field day with, had they heard him.

Once back in [y/n]'s room, he placed the tray beside her futon. She had removed his haori and now wore a pale green robe. "Konro gave me tea," she said, a little less crackle in her voice.

He nodded to her and took the empty cup from her hands, and placed it on the tray beside the futon. "He also prepared this for you to snack on. Open your mouth." As [y/n] did so, he popped a pear slice in her mouth and she slowly ate it. Once he had successfully fed [y/n], he got up and grabbed her comb off of her shelf and sat behind her.

"What are you doing?" She said, turning her head to try to glance at him, but he grabbed her head and faced her forward.

"Untangling your hair while we wait for your stomach to settle. Unless you want to have cramps in the water." She didn't have a response for him so she didn't fight him when he began combing through her [h/c] hair. Surprisingly, he was gentle. She expected him to be snatching and snagging at her hair but he skillfully untangled every knot in her hair, and then tied it up in a bun for her.

"You're good at that." She said warmly. That was the first time he'd done her hair for her and [y/n] couldn't help but feel all fuzzy when she learned new things about him.

"I had to learn with the girls. They're brats when it comes to that kinda thing and I don't like the screaming when I snagged their hair." She giggle at his response.

Benimaru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to [y/n]'s temple. "You really will get sick!" She exclaimed, her voice rather hoarse. "I don't care." He kissed her cheek, her jawline, neck, and planted his final kiss in crook of her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder.

His arms snaked around her waist as he hugged her firmly to him. "I'm sorry I didn't check on you sooner." He said after a minute of silence. [Y/n] couldn't tell if the heat in her face was from the fever or from him.

"It's okay, you're here now." She placed a hand on his and relaxed into his embrace. "I think I'm ready for that bath now."

"Alright." After pulling away from her and getting up stretch, Benimaru bent down to scoop [y/n] up in his arms. The sudden action startled her and she tried to resist. "Not so fast princess, you don't have that much strength in you. I don't want to have to take care of another thing if you injure yourself."

[Y/n] scoffed as they made their way to the bathhouse, "You're such a worrywort."

Benimaru looked down at the girl he was holding and cocked an eyebrow. "That's because you're always doing things to make me worry." [Y/n] opened her mouth to speak but decided that he wasn't exactly wrong and let him have it. She was too weak to argue anyways.

Benimaru set his lover down and put his hand on her waist to assist her in standing before opening the the door to the bathhouse and slowly leading her in. Once inside the washroom, he removed her robe and slid off his own. It would be a lie if [y/n] said she wasn't giving her lover a long look over. He was a wonderfully built man after all.

"You can have at me when you're feeling better," he chuckled, guiding her into the water. She felt a jolt of embarrassment as he began lathering soap onto a rag and turned her around to start scrubbing her back. "You don't have to wash me too."

"It'll be faster if I did." As he began cleaning her, he noticed that she lost a small bit of weight while being sick. Guilt hit him in the chest. He made a note to himself to not let her do this alone ever again and kissed the nape of her neck.

"B-B-Benimaru-san what are you doing?" She stumbled out. "Giving the person I like a kiss. Do you not want them? I can stop." He teased with a straight face.

"You...you are in insufferable man, captain." Benimaru smirked at her words and continued to wash her. "If I was that insufferable," he said while finishing up and rinsing her off, "you wouldn't keep coming to sleep in my room." [Y/n] turned around, her face a bright red. "I hate sleeping alone!" Benimaru stood up and got out the bath, arm stretched out to her and pulled her out when her hand met his.

"I know, you're mentally the twin's age." He was still hoisting her out when she retorted. "Oh my Captain, what does that make you then?" He was not expecting her to have enough energy to come at him like that so he let go and [y/n] fell back into the bath.

"I guess I deserved that one." She said as he helped her back out. She gave him a sheepish glace as he wrapped a towel around her. "Be careful what you say, love. I'll make you sleep alone tonight." Her face went pale as she tried to apologize profusely. His answer was a kiss to her forehead.

"Hurry up and dry off. I need a nap." He walked off to grab his towel and dry himself off before getting dressed. Once [y/n] was done and dressed herself, he guided her back to her room. "Are you sure you wouldn't want me to carry you?"

She shook her head. "I still feel awful but I don't feel as queasy anymore. I am looking forward to laying back down though."

Back in her room, Benimaru helped [y/n] lay back down on her futon. "You don't have to help me with everything. You've done enough. Or do you feel guilty still?" She said to him softly. Benimaru, laying down next to her grunted. She sighed in knowing she wasn't going to get an answer out of him. He spooned her with his chin resting on her head and arm draped over her.

As much as [y/n] wanted to press, the warmth of his chest radiated through her whole body. It caused her to become drowsy and she succumbed to the sleep. Right before going completely out, she could feel his arm squeeze her gently and pulling her closer to him, as if he let go, she'd disappear. A little smile graced her lips. He may be hard on the surface, but he was truly a sweet man.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 11

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 11: Max turns one. John Shelby receives some surprising news. 

             As spring turned into summer, Tommy was starting to realize how fast time really went. For so long he’d been going through the motions of life. But seeing Max hit milestones was an eye-opener for him. He saw how fleeting time was and it scared him.

            By June, Max was crawling and had started to show signs of walking. He would pull himself up using a chair and smile up at Tommy, proud of his little accomplishment.   

            The summer months were so busy that a lot of things that would worry Amelia went unnoticed. She was so occupied with Max and the other younger Shelbys that she didn’t have time to notice little inconsistencies. Like when Tommy had been nicked twice but Arthur had bailed him out before anyone noticed. Or that they had started to smuggle in a great number of weapons like guns and rifles.

            Tommy didn’t want to lie to Amelia. But if she didn’t ask, then there was nothing to lie about.

            There was even a stretch of time in the summer that they were apart. Polly, Amelia, and the youngest Shelbys went to the Appleby fair again while Tommy and Arthur stayed behind to watch the shop. Amelia wanted Maxine to meet her namesake, and Polly wanted a break from the shop. In the time they were gone, Tommy was roughed up by another Birmingham Boy but his bruises and cuts healed by the time Amelia returned.

            Little did they know, the fair would have more consequences than any of them realized.

~~~~~~~~~           

            They celebrated Max’s first birthday in September, holding a small party for friends and family. It was one of the first birthdays the Shelbys had that was a proper birthday. There was no worrying over scraping together enough money to make it suitable. There was a cake and toys for the little boy and a happy family surrounding him.

            As Ada helped Max unwrap his toys, Amelia snuggled into Tommy’s side. She seemed so content. That’s all Tommy wanted. He wanted his family to be happy and he would go by any means to get that.

            Tommy kissed her hair and took her hand in his.

            “It’s a horse, Maxy!” Ada showed him the wooden horse, pretending to make it gallop across the floor.

            Max giggled and clapped his hands together. He was such a happy child. Polly noted that the Shelbys were notable for being fussy children. It didn’t help that they had such a tumultuous upbringing. But Max rarely went a moment without giving someone a smile. Showing everyone the few baby teeth that were coming in. Even when he cried or fussed, he wanted to be secure in someone’s arms.

            It threw Tommy for a loop when, one day, Max looked at him and said ‘dada’. He was dumbfounded for a second, staring at the little boy he was holding. This innocent, pure-hearted, child who looked up to him. Who looked at him with such fondness and adoration. He was still too young to understand many things but he understood love.

            It had to be a fluke. A misunderstanding on God’s part. Tommy didn’t deserve this little angel. He didn’t deserve Amelia. He fully assumed that one day, he would wake up and it all would be just a dream. But every morning he woke up with Amelia curled up in his arms and Max asleep in his cot.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            But the tide would turn ever so slightly. That night, after all the cake was cleaned off Max’s face and he was fast asleep, there was a frenzy of knocks at the door.

            Amelia was helping Polly clean the kitchen while Tommy put Max to sleep so she went to answer it.

            When she opened the door, she found Martha Boswell on the front stoop, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a bit of a shock; Amelia hadn’t seen the teenager since the Appleby fair in June. She didn’t know the Boswells were even near Birmingham because no one mentioned it.

            “Martha?”

            The girl hiccupped as she tried to compose herself enough to ask. “I-is John here?”

            “He’s upstairs, why don’t you come in?” Amelia let her inside, confused as to what was going on.

            Polly came out of the kitchen. “Martha, why are you here? What’s wrong?” She immediately switched to parenting mode.

            “Oh, Pol, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Martha wailed, clutching her shawl close to her chest.

            “Chavi, tell me what’s wrong?” Polly embraced her.

            “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear. I’m pre-pregnant.” Martha sobbed.

            Amelia instantly recognized the guilt and shame in her voice. It was the same emotions she had when she first found out about her pregnancy. The fear of what everyone would think weighing down on her and crushing her hope. Then she looked up to see John standing halfway down the stairs.

            His face had gone completely ashen and his wide eyes marked a frozen look of fear. It was obvious he’d heard the news. They were all stuck for a while. The only sound came from Martha’s heavy sobbing.

            John slowly walked down the rest of the stairs. “Marty…” He looked to Polly who seemed to be waiting for what he had to say. Either for damage control or for some sort of agreement. “You don’t hafta cry. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

            Martha withdrew from Polly’s arms to look at him. “You don’t’ know that.”

            “I…well, I’ll try me best. I’ll go to your parents and talk to them tomorrow.”

            “They’ll gut you!” She exclaimed. “They already know I’m pregnant. Mum found out today. If they find out you’re the father, they’ll go mad.”

            “Oi, what’s wrong with me, aye?” John asked. “Can take care of you better than anyone else.” He asserted.

            “John, I’m not even sixteen until next month!”

            “Well, I…” He was at a loss for words, looking to Polly and Amelia. He figured it would be years before he was even thinking about having a family. But teenagers did what they did. A chance night at the Appleby fair and suddenly their lives were changed forever.

            “Why don’t you stay the night?” Polly suggested. “Maybe we’ll all have clearer heads in the morning. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you and John to see your parents.”

            “Oh, Pol, they’ll be so angry.” Martha wrung her shawl together in her hands.

            “What’s done is done,” Polly assured her. “It’ll be okay. C’mon, go upstairs with John.”

            John, as frightened as he looked, took Martha’s hand. He squeezed it gently to comfort her as they walked upstairs.

            Polly shook her head. “Should’ve seen this coming a mile away.” She muttered to herself. “We saw them attached at the hip at the fair. Saw them sneak away together.”

            “They’re young, but they have a family that’ll take care of them.” Amelia pointed out. “Like you’ve taken care of Max and me.”

            She sighed. “I suppose. It’ll be a full house though.” She realized.

            “Well, maybe Tom and I can get a place of our own.” Amelia wondered. “I could still come and help with Ada and Finn. But I don’t want you to feel crowded.”

            “Talk to Tommy, I suppose.” Polly looked like she wasn’t sure what to do anymore. “It’ll work out eventually. It always does.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

             "I guess I should've seen this coming," Tommy muttered. "I mean, we always saw them together but pregnant? That fucking git."

            "They seem to be in love though." Amelia picked up Max as he toddled over to her. They were just finishing moving into their new flat after discussing things with Polly. With Martha moving in after she and John married, and another baby on the way, there was hardly enough space to breathe. So Tommy took it upon himself to find a new flat. It was nice to have a place of his own, but he wasn't willing to stop there. He still had his eyes set on a manor out in the countryside.

            "They're too young to know what love is."

            "Really? They're not much younger than we are, Tom." Amelia reminded him gently.

            He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I guess we'll see how it works out."

            "Maybe you should let John help with the betting shop." She suggested. "Give him some responsibilities and let him work for his own money. Then he can start saving for the baby."

            Tommy frowned. "Maybe. I don't know if he's ready."

            "He dropped out of school, he needs something to do."

            Max cooed as he tugged on Amelia's necklace. "Mumma." He murmured.

            Tommy watched as she cuddled Max close. He smiled slightly. He could never get over how natural her relationship was with Max. She embraced motherhood with such grace and it made him cast aside any doubts he had for the future. "Why don't we go to Handsworth Park on Friday. I’ll take the day off." He suggested.

            It was the first time since Max was born that Tommy offered to take a day off. Of course, he'd been coerced or even guilted into it but he had yet to be the first to suggest it.

            "I think that would be lovely." She agreed. "We can bring lunch, would you like that, Max?" She cooed softly.

            The toddler giggled. "Mumma."

            "Alright, now, let's get you in the bath. Daddy will come to say goodnight to you later." Amelia walked upstairs with Max in her arms.

            Tommy lingered in the foyer, lighting up a smoke. He glanced around the entryway. It was a similar layout to Six Watery but it still had its differences. There wasn't a large scuff mark on the floor from when Arthur scraped a chair down the hallway to catch a spider on the ceiling. Polly tried to cover the scratch in vain but it always poked out from underneath the rug. There was no cross on the wall by the door, although Polly was probably going to bring one over soon. The walls were still bare as they'd focused on getting furniture on a limited budget.

            It was frustrating. With money coming in, Tommy was starting to feel like they were moving up. And they were, just in small increments. Ada wouldn't have to wear hand-me-downs from cousins, no one would go hungry, and they could afford some small luxuries that they never knew before. But when a larger obstacle faced him, like buying another flat and filling it with furniture, Tommy realized how long the road ahead was.

            He exhaled a breath of smoke, tilting his head up to the ceiling. Maybe, with some luck, Max wouldn't have any memories of being poor. But it was only wishful thinking.

//Something fun is trying to figure out how John had so many children in such a short amount of time. But he’s a Shelby and as we know they are hoes and have many children. And we love them for it. 

Permanent Tag list: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​ @tarafaithe​ @evelynshelby​ 

Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[geeky-introvert]

Abandon Your God . Ubbe X Male OC

Summary: Peter was a Duke’s son and when King Aethelwulf called for help against the Viking’s his father leads his armies against them, only to be defeated and Peter ended up as their prisoner. He wondered what fated awaited him and there was no escape from the alluring eyes from the eldest brother, Ubbe, staring at him like a predator, and it thrilled him in ways he couldn’t express. One-shot.

Word count: 4001

Warning: Smut, oral, anal stuff. Two guys going at it pretty much.

Tag List: @lisinfleur​ @mdlady​ @didiintheblog​ @alicedopey​ @lupy22​@rekdreams247​ @mblaqgi​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @aphnxrising​ @happydaysandersen​ @therealcalicali​ @naaladareia​ @inforapound​@captstefanbrandt​ @waiting4inspiration​ @tabalugax​ @p8tn0lish​

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

He was the Dukes only son and child though there was no love between father and son, even too embarrassed to call him his son. Since the day he was born, the day his mother died, his father had hated him for killing his wife and for what he was ever since discovering what his own blood had done under the eyes of god.

Peter was different, and it was because he was different was the cause of much heart ache in his life. All he was ever told was it was a sin for two men or two women to desire each other not that it made him any better or heal anything and it only brought more humiliation to listen to the words reputedly by the bishops throughout his life.

His father even had a woman from a brothel to engage with his son. Peter did try but he just wasn’t able to perform with the woman. She was annoyed but after some convincing she agreed to pretend something happened to satisfy his father.

It worked, for a while, than Peter went ahead and ruined it. It happened as he was starting to become a man. For months he had been sneaking behind the stables meeting with a peasant boy. They had been friends for a while and quickly fallen for each other. They knew the risk and understood their souls might be prevented from reaching eternal life but they didn’t care about that. All that mattered was them and they had even talked about running away together. Peter didn’t want to be Duke and had no interest in having that responsibility. All he wanted was to be free.

That never happened.

They were caught by a guard and brought to his father who was beyond furious. Peter was flogged which left scars all along his back, to carry that punishment until his last breath. The peasant boy he grew to like, maybe love, was hanged. Nothing was ever the same since.

For the following years he was drowned by the bishop in the holy water to cleanse him of his sins and beg the lord for forgiveness. He was forced to pray and plea to god to forgive him and he did, every day and night. It changed nothing. He was still who he was and no matter how much he prayed, god wasn’t listening to him. He had accepted that he was abandoned long ago.

Six years had passed since that very day.

The Duke was called by King Aethelwulf to form an alliance and join forces against the heathens that invaded York. He led his men, including Peter, towards where they were to meet and form a plan of attack. Not even half way they had been ambushed. The Duke being outnumbered and unprepared they never stood a chance. They were slaughtered without mercy, all expect for Peter. He had tried defending himself but failed against the brute man against him as his sword was knocked from his hands and kicked in the chest sending him falling back against the ground with a pained grunt. When he opened his eyes he saw a young man covered in blood sitting in a red chariot with the devils smile raining down on him. Harsh words were shouted, more like orders, and before he knew it he was their prisoner.

He was brought to York, what had been renamed as Jorvik by the heathen’s. The man from the chariot was Ivar, leader of the heathen army, and Peter found himself sitting at a large table right before Ivar along with his brothers, Hvitserk and Ubbe.

“You must be thirsty,” Ivar spoke in his language grinning like a mad man. “Please, help yourself.”

Peter was tired, filthy, with only a few bruises and cuts from his short weak battle. He hated himself for not trying hard enough and knew his father would be frowning down on with disgusted shame. He was surrounded by his enemies and it surprised him that they had kept him alive while offering their hospitalises. It had to be a trick. Soon his thirst had won over and took a swing from the horn earning a pleased wide grin from Ivar.

“You were the Dukes son, am I right?” Looking up from the table Peter felt the lingering stares from them with their mocking smiles and piercing blue eyes burning into which made him uncomfortable. From what he saw he didn’t think the other two brothers understood what they were saying. He hated to admit it but he was afraid.

“I was,” no emotion was spilled from him and Ivar took notice of it.

“Not a good father to you? Well, it doesn’t matter now does it?” He snickered highly amused. “Now you are Duke and having you as our guest is a great advantage for us. I want more control over these lands and if you surrender your lands over to me, we won’t harm you, and your people will be spared.” There was something in his last words that made Peter not believe it, a false promise is what it was. His answer was what none of them expected.

“Fine, I surrender the lands to you.”

Ivar surely looked stunned before barking out in laughter and repeating to his brothers in their own tongue. They looked even more surprised, even Hvitserk tipped his head back in laughter. Ubbe only furrowed his brows like he didn’t understand what he meant.

“That was easy.” Ivar said after he stopped laughing. “Why give up your lands, your title, and your people, so willingly to us?”

“I have no interest in any of that,” Peter only shrugged but it wasn’t convincing enough.

“There is more to it, am I right?”

“They are my own reasons.” He wouldn’t speak of his reasons to the heathen. “All I ask is to be allowed to leave willingly and I’ll disappear, I won’t be a bother to you.”

“Or I could just have you give us authority over your lands and kill you?” Ivar had a dagger sticking into the table and gleaming at Peter from his end. It seemed that was his original plan from the start.

Ubbe had spoken up, interrupting them and speaking in their language. He kept directing his head at Peter who made him aware they were talking about him, but he was confused what about him they were discussing. Hvitserk let out a dopey giggle listening to his brother’s words as Ivar couldn’t hold back a grin, entertained by what he was saying. Ivar replied with an amused roll from his eyes only for Ubbe to smirk with a shrug. He rolled the inside of his cheek with his tongue in thought and looked back over at Peter, a spark lingering in his cold eyes.

“It is rather late now. We’ll discuss this further in morning. My guards will escort you to your chambers.”

It wasn’t until after he bathed that everything became real. A horrible guilt filled his heart because of his selfish actions, his emotions had got in the way and he had given up everything including his family name all just for spite.

For so long everyone had looked down on him, including his father, with shame and disappointment. Why should he care for them, for the people who stood by and smiled with approval as that boy was hanged and he was flogged? It made no sense to help or lead them. His dark side wanted them to suffer and know it felt like to feel the pain he had for so long, but his guilt had only made him feel worse the more he thought about it.

He was all alone with no one else. His thoughts went on to what he would do next, not realising before that he hadn’t the faintest clue on how he was going to find a new life. Living as a peasant was probably his best interests and he didn’t mind that.

Everything in his families name was now in the heathen’s hands, something he didn’t have to worry about anymore, but knowing what they did made him want to go back on his words. It was too late though. Ivar wouldn’t agree to other terms.

Peter found himself leaning against the window looking outside the town of what used to be York, the sounds of the Viking’s cheers of victory and drunken loud singing filling the night around them, praising their gods for successfully defeating his father and his army.

Looking around the room he was greeted with candles lightening the darkness and thick furs lay out on the floor. He frown a little as he examined the room more, and soon enough he had realised that this wasn’t a chamber room but what used to be a storage holding room. Everything was cleared out leaving not much else for him to look for.

He had wondered why Ivar just didn’t throw him in a cell or kill him to be done with it. It didn’t make sense. So lost in his thoughts he never heard someone had entered the room, until he felt like he wasn’t alone anymore and turned around to see Ubbe leaning against the door with a small upturn smile.

Peter felt an unsettling fear linger in him as he watched the heathen closely, pondering what he was doing there at the late hour.

“What is your name?” Ubbe asked, much to his surprise that he understood.

“Peter…” He said a little unsure. “I didn’t realise you knew my language.”

“I know it.” Ubbe pushed himself from the door and stepped slowly towards him. “Why did you give up?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I'm only curios.” He was very close to him, probably too close to Peter’s liking.

“Like I told your brother, I have no interest.”

Ubbe smirked, like he didn’t believe him. His eyes twinkled with mischief looking Peter down and up. “What are your interests then?”

He to a step back to put distance between them only for Ubbe to follow, and continued until his back hit the wall. “Nothing,” that was all he could say.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Peter?” His hot breath hit his face making him shiver and swallow the forming lump in his throat.

Peter admitted to himself that Ubbe was captivating. He watched carefully as Ubbe removed his shirt over his head showing his upper half of toned mussels with the glow from the candles reflected against his skin. His gaze lingered over the light blonde hairs covering his chest, down over his abdomen and disappearing under the waist of his breeches. He realised what he was doing and averted his eyes away.

Ubbe’s hand was than at his neck with some roughness, pinning him against the wall forcing him to look back, fear slowly creeping into his eyes as to what he was planning to do. He knew what they were capable of and that was enough for him to know what he could do to him.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked in a strained voice.

Their eyes held as Ubbe leaned in closer while pressing himself against him. Sweat beamed at Peter’s forehead feeling the radiating heat coming from him and nerves made his muscles tense being pressed between the wall and the man before him. His hand was loosened around his neck leaving his thumb to gently rub against his pulse.

Ubbe leaned towards him, eyes darting between his lips and eyes before closing the distance. Warm lips met with a small moan of protest coming from Peter as he tried breaking the kiss by shoving at his chest only to have both his wrists pinned either side of his head and deepening the kiss. He struggled, only for a moment, until he felt his cock twitch and stiffened so suddenly earning a surprised gasp against the lips. Never had he felt himself react like that before, it was like his desire knew exactly what he wanted, even though his mind was screaming at him to put an end to it.

Ubbe released one wrist and moved down between them to dip his hand under Peter’s waist band making him squirm more under his hold, only to stop when he felt the warmth of his hand wrapping around his hardening cock and started palming him.

The desire was forbidden, so wrong, going against god and all Christians, but oh mighty it felt good.

When he was relaxed enough Ubbe deepened the kiss more and invaded his tongue, only for a short moment before moving away to look down at Peter’s flushed face, but that wasn’t all. His forehead creased as soon as he saw the sadness in Peter’s eyes like he was about the cry but no tears shed.

Peter felt confused over what he was feeling. His arousal was something he hadn’t felt before, even when he kissed the boy from behind the stables he never felt the kind of desire he felt that moment with the heathen.

“Ubbe,” he said his name for the first time remembering Ivar calling him that. “I shouldn’t…”

He removed his hand and started to lift Peter’s shirt up over his head throwing it aside and pressed himself against him again.

“Why? What is stopping you?” Ubbe asked quietly.

“My god…He doesn’t like it…When two men…” It surprised him that he had referred his god wasn’t the only one and Ubbe noticed that. He offered a small pleasant smile for him.

“Your Christian god knows nothing.” He claimed his lips again with a lustful groan and held Peter’s head in his heads to keep him steady in his grasp.

For so long Peter blamed himself and allowed everyone to spit down on him. For too long he prayed to the only god he grew up with and was given nothing in return. What was happening with the heathen was something he never thought could happen, not again that was. The desire he kept hidden for so long was released and he was both thrilled and scared.

The kiss was released again only for his lips to touch his ear. “I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you, and I knew I had to have you.” Ubbe kissed him again, invading his mouth and deepening the kiss with a lingering moan. Peter couldn’t think besides the warm mouth on his and returned the kiss, forgetting everything even for just a moment. “Abandon your god, even just for tonight. It is just us and my gods.”

Peter was left speechless and could only watch the heathen loom over him like a predator before his mouth was devoured once more in a harsh kiss and pulled away from the wall. Ubbe’s arms wrapped around him like a snake and with hesitation he moved his own around him and let him take lead as he led them over to the makeshift bed of furs on the ground.

Ubbe pushed him and his back hit the furs with a soft thud, their ragged breathes the only sounds filtering the room as Peter watched the man shadowing over him. His mind was made up and embraced what his body longed desired. Ubbe keeled down over him, elbows keeping him balanced above his face. He closed the distance and gave him a quick kiss before slowly making his way down his front leaving trails of hot kisses.

Peter managed to look down from his laying position and saw him smirking proudly at him as he started to unlace his trousers, pulling them down far enough to release his erect cock. His breathing hitched as Ubbe started to stroke him in his palm with a few quick pumps than lowering his head at his twitching cock.

It felt like a million stars had burst all over his skin. The feeling of such pleasure washed over like a flowing river, tingles and sparks erupted all over as Ubbe bobbed his head over his cock, sucking him with his warm lips wrapped around him.

He groaned lowly as he felt his release was about to burst so soon, feeling nothing but the heathen sucking him harder like he knew he was close. He could only watching him by leaning up on his hands and tiled his head back, letting himself go with a sharp moan and spilled his seed.

Ubbe swallowed his seed greedily and moved himself up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before capturing his lips once more. The taste of himself was foreign and yet he craved more. It was probably another sin to tick off, and yet he didn’t care thinking there was nothing to worry about anymore. He came this far and didn’t want it to stop.

They both helped each other to remove the remaining of their clothes, tugging their trousers down and kicking their shoes off trying to keep the kissing in motion. Now both fully naked to each other he felt more alive than never before, though a little shy being so nude in front of the heathen but relaxed a little seeing him giving a calm smile. He allowed Ubbe to dominate his mouth again and kissed back eagerly and felt a brush from his own erect cock bobby between them.

Their bodies rubbed together in motion with their lips, tongues sliding passionately and Ubbe’s hand rubbing the back of Peter’s thigh sending shivers over him. It was a moment Peter wanted to continue, to let it linger, but Ubbe had other ideas and Peter wasn’t really sure how much more the moment could get for them, he knew he was about it find out what more could happen.

Ubbe had than rolled him onto his front and it was then that Peter regretted letting it happen. He felt the heathen behind him stop his motives and stare down at his back with a curios tilt. He had been so distracted he didn’t even think about the scars across his back. Next thing he thought was going to happen was to be asked questions, which was something he didn’t want to talk about. Amazingly Ubbe said nothing, and instead he felt his lips at his scars, kissing along them softly earning a sharp intake followed by a low groan.

After he did this, Ubbe moved back and pushed his shoulders down against the furs. Peter heard him spitting and flinched when he felt wet fingers against his tight ring, his finger circled around before being inserted. The kisses over the back of his neck tried to sooth him from clenching and relax his nerves.

He groaned in discomfort as he felt the finger moving back and forth, shutting his eyes as Ubbe breathed into his ear. He forced himself to adjust and not long after he felt a second finger joining earning a grunt as he tried getting used to the pressure.

Ubbe made sure he was stretched and slick for him as he didn’t want to cause him too much pain for what he planned to do. After rubbing his fingers inside him for a bit he removed them, smirking lightly when he heard Peter gasping lowly from the loss of him. He lifted his waist up and spat into his hand again, gliding it over his cock and spread his cheeks as he rubbed himself along his rear before pushing himself in.

When he felt his cock enter he screwed his eyes shut and pressed his face against the furs muffling his pained groans while he fisted his hands grabbing at the furs. He never expected the pain to be like that and feared he’d just made a huge mistake. There was no going back after this, he was forever a sinner, and his god would never forgive him for what he did that night. Those thoughts vanished when he felt the warm cock twitch within him.

Ubbe pressed himself further until his groin was flushed against his rear, holding still letting out a deep moan and allowing Peter to adjust. He shifted himself, testing with a gentle thrust, earning a low moan and felt satisfied enough. Gripping at his waist he started moving, grunting as he slowly pulled his cock back and pressing back in with gentle thrusts.

Peter winced and groaned as he was rocked in gentle motions against the cock moving within him. The pain had started to suspend and it started to feel good, tingles of pleasure building once more and felt his own cock harden again as it bobbed under him against the movements.

His thrusting had started to quicken. Ubbe’s grip around his waist tightened as he thrust more firmly into him, a growl leaving him with his thrusts and the sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room with their heavy pants and lingering groans.

Peter let out a whimper feeling overwhelmed by the experience and pleasure burning through him. He pressed his face into his crossed arms against the furs feeling the man thrust into him with firm movements. He was lifted up with a tug at his hair, a soft cry was all he made as Ubbe held his head up by his hair and moved around to claim his lips, in which Peter returned eagerly.

Ubbe’s thrusts became harsher. He humped into his rear with forceful thrusts before shoving Peter back into the furs again letting out a beastly growl showing no mercy for him. He leaned over his back, his thrusting never seizing, pressed his lips against his ear letting out heavy pants as he reached under them and grabbed his cock, pumping him as he rutted against him.

It was becoming too much for Peter to handle. The pleasure was making every blurry in his sight and let out a loud cry as he let go of his release, his seed spilling over the furs with a heated moan. Ubbe wasn’t far behind as growls vibrated from his throat and gave a few brutal thrusts before releasing his seed deep within and slumped against his back.

After they both evened their breathing Ubbe pushed himself up and pulled his cock out with a wet pop, a deep sigh followed as he laid next him.

Peter remained on his front letting everything come to his mind over what just happened with mixed emotions over what had just happened. These thoughts were interrupted when he felt himself being turned over wincing as he felt the slight sting of pain at his backside before he felt an arm snake around his waist and pulled him into his heated embrace.

All he could hear was the loud thumping from Ubbe’s heart against his ear where his head rested, soothing his remaining nerves and relaxed more into him. He had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but he knew everything had changed, and it was these last thoughts he had before he felt himself fall into darkness.

[cartoonemotion]

i wrote a fic on the spot about splinter and his first few acts of Daditude

read it here on ao3 or underneath the cut !

It doesn’t hit Lou right away what he’s stumbled into; in fact it takes weeks before what it all means finally sinks in.

Sure, he grapples with the fact that he feels betrayed and foolish for trusting Draxum, so easily flattered by him that he was blinded to what he was really planning all along. He, reluctant to admit it, even feels afraid of what will happen next; if he’s found by Draxum as he is now, grappling with his mutation- a mutation he doesn’t know the full effects of yet. He feels confused, and lost, and sick with guilt, completely alone for possibly the first real time in his life.

But he isn’t alone. Carefully tucked in between the meager amounts of clothes he was able to grab, on top of the other limited personal items (mostly fan mail and such, which he tries not to feel vain and stupid for taking), are four turtles.

The first few weeks, Lou mostly feels sorry for the turtles.

The lack of documentation and funds makes finding any shelter hard enough, but his continuing mutation means not even squatting in some old house or shelter will suffice. He feels relieved, almost like a genius, when he thinks to retreat to the sewers. Lou might not be any kind of expert, but he knows turtles need to be somewhere damp, with lots of water. Sewer water isn’t ideal, obviously, but it’s better than nothing.

It is, however, cold. And if it’s cold for Lou, it’s freezing for the turtles; they instinctively pile on each other, clumsy foot on shell or a hand in the other’s face, but it does nothing to quiet their shivering. Lou piles what clean clothes he has on them, tries to bundle them together, but it doesn’t help much. The oldest of them- Red- is able to move around the most, and with more confidence in his motion than the others, and will often do his hardest to crawl onto to Lou, even wiggle his way under his shirt. So for many nights, Lou scoops up the turtles, cold and clammy as they are, and tries his best to keep them all together and relatively still, and tries to let them sleep. He, himself, does not as much- his guilt is still raw in his mind, and while he knows what he did was the right thing, he worries if he’s saved the four of them just to be unable to keep them alive on his own- but the weight on his chest slowly becomes routine. That, at least, convinces him to close his eyes and rest.

Not long after the sewer becomes more of a shelter than a hiding place, Lou’s brain decides it’s fair game to become irritable.

Maybe because he had almost fooled himself into some kind of sense of normalcy; he has, from sneaking above ground, coveted something almost like a home. He has a bed now, bottles of clean water, he even found a beaten up projector that miraculously still worked, which he was more thankful for than the bed and the water combined. Not to mention the most helpful of all, the woman at the pet store counter who wrote down some basic turtle care advice, even though he’s sure he creeped her out with his lurking around and odd gait, all covered up to try to keep himself inconspicuous. She did act like she had dealt with worse; he had to give it up to New York for that.

He is irritable, but he isn’t mad, of course. Getting mad at babies is pathetic and cruel, and getting mad at baby turtles seem doubly so. But he is sleep deprived, developing chronic pains, frustrated with his new physiology, and starting to wonder if he’s going insane. The turtles writhe and cry, probably from the cold and hunger, and Lou really can’t blame them. He feels like screaming and crying himself.

“What? What is it?” Lou can’t stop himself from sounding exhausted, picking up Orange, who without fail always wailing the loudest. Thinking maybe it’s the cold, he tucks him in his arm, trying to rock him while managing more of a weak shake. Orange merely shrieks louder, which in turn causes all of his brothers to respond in kind. Lou feels like the sheer shockwave of the noise is going to peel the face from his skin. His head is splitting. Suddenly, Red clamps his jaw around his bare foot, in a bite much more firm and painful than somebody his size should be able to create. The resounding ‘fuck’ probably carries all the way to New Jersey.

“Alright, you’re in time out!” He pries Red off his foot, scooping him up beside Orange in his arm. He grabs Purple and Blue too.” You, you, orange, me! All of us need a time out.”

Time out is not on their agenda, however. Blue wriggles away from the crook of his arm and starts scrambling up to his shoulders. Orange starts thrashing, trying to follow his older brother’s suite when Lou tries to twist around and grab Blue again, slipping free and clumsily slinking up the back of Lou’s neck. A franticness he has never experienced in his life crushes Lou’s heart in its hands, stopping it dead as he feels Orange slide off, already starting to fall. Almost automatic, he shoulders Purple against Red, lurching forwards on one foot to catch Orange in his free hand. Blood rushes in his ears. Orange squeals in delight and starts wiggling, trying to repeat his steps again.

And then it hits him; they’d all been bored. He sighs with relief.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” He scolds, though there is absolutely no bite to his words, and he is, in spite of himself, smiling. “Giving me a heart attack?” He collects Blue from his spot on his shoulder, and sets them all down gently. There is a slight murmur of disappointment, then Lou picks up Orange, in a smooth motion, spinning him around high into the air. Not long after the other three are tripping over each other, tugging at Lou’s ankles.

Lou lifts them up, gives them piggy-back rides, and generally resigns himself to being a playground for hours. Somehow, it feels like the most fun he’s had in decades.

Lou, after spotting a gray hair (hair, not strand of rat fur), decides it’s time to pass on the greatest staple of his legacy: grooming.

The turtles are hairless, obviously, put playing in sewer grime is no good; nobody under his watch is going to go on smelling like the inside of a rusty pipe and growing mildew on their shells. Even though turtles are supposed to love water, Lou has never met any living thing more opposed to baths than the turtles. Worse yet, it’s getting hard to rope them all in.

Orange is still getting his legs under him, really, so he is the easiest to catch, though he protests the loudest in wordless, floundering terror. This alerts his presence to all of his brothers;  Blue has mastered his crawl, sliding half on his belly as his kicks and wriggles away faster than anything with a shell on its back should be able to. Purple uses his scrawniness to hide in corners and under the bed frame, making it difficult for Lou to reach. Red has grown bigger than Lou thought he would, and much quicker than he thought he would, too, and is able to toddle around on two legs. Lou feels like an idiot chasing after him while he screams “No!” over and over again. He gnaws on Lou’s arms all the way to their makeshift tub, a large bin that, while big enough for all of them, is beginning to be a tight fit with Red’s growth spurt.

Still, the turtles all try to kick and splash around as Lou scrubs them all down, stilling only when he washes the spaces where their shells meet the skin just under their collarbones. Washing their face causes a lot of grief, especially from Blue, who has not yet totally learned to keep his eyes closed so soap won’t in them. After he gets them all in the rhythm of it, though, they calm down; Orange blows bubbles at his brothers, Purple climbs up Red’s spines to keep himself afloat better, and Blue splashes the water in front of him, amazing himself. Lou then has to convince them to get out of the tub just as much as he had to convince them to get in.

He knows the second he sets them loose, they’ll waste no time getting just as dirty as before. But looking at them, grouped together, bundled up to their nostrils in towels, he only feels a kind of tired satisfaction.

When their personalities really start to emerge, that’s when Lou realizes he’s not just Lou, by himself, with some turtles who he makes sure don’t all die. Previously it had seemed more like what he imagined was the normal, random behavior of babies, with the secondary turtle instincts of course, but day after day, the turtles make their own distinctions perfectly clear.

Red, as the oldest, is the first he really notices. Though not able to do much more than babble nonsense, it’s easy for Lou to tell he has a lot of Strong Opinions about things, as much as a baby turtle living in the sewer can have. He’s gotten over his teething, but doesn’t seem to understand the force he puts behind his movements all the same; hence when he starts to roughhouse with his brothers, Purple either shuffles away or is discreetly moved away by Lou himself. And does he ever love to roughhouse; even sitting in front of the reruns of Lou’s movies, he moves along, sloppily and uncoordinatedly trying to mimic the kicks and punches. More often than not, he clumsily ends up hitting himself in the face.

(Lou was worried, at first, at showing them; less out of the conceit of babies not grasping the masteries of cinema, but more worried if they would recognize his face when they grew up, now so far removed from what it once was? What would he tell them? How could he explain?)

Purple was curious, even notably for a baby. He began hoarding things, sneaking junk under Lou’s bed, sometimes in the sheets (the amount of times Lou had rolled over the jagged edge of some something or other in his sleep, he swears). He was beginning to form into a little drama king, too, throwing himself on the floor and wailing like he’d been shot when Blue stole a toy he was playing with, giving Lou a heart attack every time thinking he’d broken his shell. Lou tied a pillow around his back, which he would sometimes try to wiggle out of, but more or less learned to use to his advantage.

Blue was dramatic himself; not as much as Purple, but enough that Lou couldn’t help but laugh at him sometimes. He was more clingy than his brothers were, pitching a fit if he were ‘alone’ for more than four seconds, finding no issue in simply shoving Purple, Orange, or Red out of the way to get Lou’s attention. Lou figured he was well on his way to becoming a life-long antagonizer, but he supposed, while they were all so little, it couldn’t do much harm- he simply couldn’t intervene every time he swiped toys or tried to ride his eldest brother like a horse.

Orange, being the youngest, was not as obvious as the others, but he was beginning to show the startings of his personality. He still insisted Lou carry him most of the time (probably because he kept tripping over his shell and ending up stuck on his back), and he scared easier than the others, but there was no doubt in Lou’s mind how attached to the other three he was. Near-inseparable, really- crawling on Red’s back, teething on the edges of Blue’s shell, clumsily rubbing his hands all over Purple’s face, if at least one of his brothers were present, he was not far behind. It made him the easiest to find, if nothing else, and the one to get in the least trouble, much to Lou’s relief.

And in spite of their differences in personality, all of them loved Movie Time.

Lou had found a chair- an amazing chair, who would throw out such a good chair?- thrown into the sewer on night, and had immediately taken it home. A full recliner, padded, with a pillow sewn in and everything. And usually, after breakfast, lunch, lunch two, dinner, or in the middle of the night when none of them would sleep, Lou would sit in his chair, turtles piled on him, and watch a version of himself captured in fuzzy technicolor that he simultaneously was envious of and relieved to see. The turtles themselves would come rushing whenever they heard the projector whirr to life. Red had even almost said “hot soup” one time, which made Lou cry in earnest, despite himself.

And as he sat there, watching the last shot fade to credits, stealing a look down to see the turtles had fallen asleep- as he figured they would- Lou realized something that he should have realized the second he had stepped foot in the sewer, the four of them cradled in his arms. He, without even knowing it, had become a father.

“My sons,” He sighed to himself, so as not to wake them. “I really need to give you real names.”