#i like how the gold came out. i thought i would have trouble making it look metallic but it was actually not too bad.

[scr4py4rd]

gabe doodle

[gravestrain]

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might (qh43)

in which Quinn will do just about anything to help his sweet girl.

This is 2.6k words of Quinn angst/fluff. It involves his girlfriend dealing with hate comments online. There are some hurtful things said about weight and appearances. This is a fem reader, with mentions of wearing makeup and dresses. She/her pronouns are used. Felt a little down lately and wanted to cheer myself up with some sweet Quinn. I hope you all enjoy this <3

There was almost nothing in the world that was easier than loving Quinn Hughes.

With his heart of gold and smile to match it, you found yourself falling in love with him almost instantly. It would have been impossible not to. To know Quinn is to love him. You doubt that there is anyone in the world who has met Quinn and has not been mesmerized by his charm and his raw kindness. Even his toughest opponents and fiercest rivals have nothing but kind things to say about your boy.

You met Quinn three years ago while you were on a girls trip at a rented lake house in Michigan. When you first saw your neighbor for the weekend, you were so caught off guard you tripped over your own feet and spilled your drink all over your feet. Quinn was quick to throw the towel he was holding out of his hands and on to your body to help you clean up the sticky mess that was now covering your body. Never mind the fact that in a house full of lazy boys, there was no other clean towels. It was just what he wanted to do.

Over stumbled apologies and blushing words, you exchanged numbers with Quinn. Neither of you were foolish enough to hide your intentions. At this point, you had both known you were only going to be in town for the weekend, but Quinn did not care, and neither did you. Your intentions were always to continue to talk to Quinn, even after the close proximity was no longer.

And you did. It was months of Facetimes and silly texts, until finally Quinn played a game near your town. Quinn insisted you came, and when you saw him again in the tunnels after the game, you knew you would never be able to move on, and Quinn felt the same way.

The start of the new season found you moving to Vancouver with Quinn. You were able to find a job similar to yours that was only 20 minutes away from Quinn's house. The choice seemed like a no brainer. And if you thought dating Quinn was a gift, nothing could compare to living with him. He was silly and considerate, adventurous and attentive. You found yourself falling in love with him more and more each day.

You were no stranger to Quinn's spotlight. It became more and more apparent to you when you moved to Vancouver. Almost every block had a Canucks fan, Canucks memorabilia, often sporting your boyfriend's face, loud and proud.

You were no stranger to the comments that other girls would make in the stands of Canucks games, or even at the bar while you were tucked right in to Quinn's side. They found Quinn to be as beautiful and as breathtaking as you did, and they paid no mind to the fact that you were hooked on his arm, or wearing his last name across your back, or even sitting with his family. Their intentions were to be with Quinn. They did not find you as a threat. But many made it their intentions to let you know that they were a threat.

You were public on social media, but with hardly any mention of your faceless boyfriend being Quinn Hughes. However, being the captain's girlfriend had automatically put you in the public eye, despite the fact that both you and Quinn tried your hardest to keep it on the down low publicly. It was challenging for Quinn to be in the spotlight at times, even after so long of being in it, and he wanted to make sure he tried his hardest to ensure that that spotlight never graced your wings. There was so much trouble that came with it, trouble that Quinn never wanted to expose you to. Nevertheless, some fans persisted.

"This is what you wear to stand next to the captain of the Vancouver Canucks? Maybe try a little harder next time," a comment had graced your post of your outfit from a Canucks gala. Despite your insistence that Quinn didn't pay for much, it hardly ever worked. Quinn had bought you the most beautiful dress, with a price tag you could not fathom. His insistence was that he saw you eyeing it on social media from a post of a fashion show, and he wanted you to have it.

The dress instantly made you feel beautiful, and Quinn's gaze and charming words made you feel beautiful tenfold. It was almost devastating how that feeling had disappeared so fast, just by the words and actions of a few cruel individuals who had made it their life's mission to tear you down.

Just one comment wouldn't hurt so bad. Unfortunately, there was tens of comments that point out a few flyaways, the creasing of your concealer, the cellulite on your arms, the rolls of your hips. You had tried your hardest not to let them bother you. But it bubbled up inside like a bad stew. When you find the one that hurt the worst, it caused you to sink to a feeling worse than you had ever felt. The comment read: "I don't understand why Quinn would want to be with a fat girl who does not know how to present herself in public. She has no redeeming features."

You tried your hardest to hide the comments from Quinn. You knew he rarely checked social media, so you made a promise to never let him know what they said and how they bothered you. You tried to insist to yourself that it was minuscule, it shouldn't matter. But the state Quinn found you in when he returned from his road trip was nothing but minuscule. It was no position he had ever found you in.

When Quinn FaceTimed you two nights ago after their game in Anaheim, you were wearing one of his Canucks blue t shirts, curled up in bed with your dog. When he walked through your bedroom doors, he found you in the same place, wearing the same t shirt, sporting the same hairstyle. His heart sunk to his toes. Were you hurt? How could he help you? What caused you to get into this state?

When he found you, your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren't sleeping. You had your head intentionally turned towards the wall, so as to not face Quinn. But even without seeing your face, he knew something was seriously wrong. And at that point, all he wanted was to see your beautiful face, to give him a little reassurance as to how you were feeling.

Quinn rounded the corner of the bed, kneeling down on the floor next to your head. "Hi sweetness," he muttered, running his fingers down the slope of your face. "Can I see your eyes, please?" He asked, causing you to shake your head lightly. He hummed at your answer, not wanting to push, but also knowing he had to get to the bottom of this.

"I brought you some takeout, your favorite. I know you have that project due in a few days and I figured you would be hungry." He had left the food on the table downstairs when he walked in to a silent house. No singing to music, no clambering of kitchen cabinets, no playing with the dog, nothing. The silence was eerie to him.

"I'm not," you muttered out in your smallest voice, cracking from lack of use, and even lack of water in your throat. You had a few sips over the last two days, but once it ran out, you couldn't get yourself to fill it. One of the only things you could manage to do the past two days was let the dog out. No matter how bad you were suffering, your sweet dog did not deserve to be punished for that. You let him out in the backyard only, not wanting anyone to see you walking on the sidewalk and be alerted by your state. There were a few other WAGs who lived in yours and Quinn's neighborhood, and at any sight of your despair, you know Quinn would have been alerted immediately.

"I'd like it if you could eat a little bit, though. I'm sure you're hungry, and your voice sounds dry. Can I fill your cup for you?" He posed it as a question, but he intended to fill it regardless of your answer. You shrugged, and Quinn took that as a win. He woke up your dog, assuming he had to go out. He journeyed downstairs and filled your cup. He also just let the dog out in the back, but promised a long walk in the morning. He only hoped you would come. It was something the two of you loved to do, walking the dog together after he came back from road trips.

As Quinn stood outside, the cold air biting at his shoulders, he tried to rack his brain of what could have possibly happened while he was gone. Did he forget something important? Did you miss a deadline? Did something happen at home? Nothing seemed to make sense, even when he tried to make sense of them.

Your dog was nothing if not loyal, so as soon as Quinn opened the door to let him back in, he bolted up the stairs to the bedroom, nosing his way through the door and back on to the bed with you. You put your hands in his fur, hoping to find some comfort in him. Silent tears streamed down your face. You saw the look on Quinn's face when he walked in to you. In a way, you were letting the trolls win even more. Quinn didn't deserve to come home to someone who couldn't get out of bed. At least, that's what the voices in your head were telling you.

Quinn walked quickly back up the stairs, but with less energy than your dog. He set your cup down on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing your calf over the blankets. He knew at some point you would tell him what's wrong. He didn't want to force it out of you, but at the same time, Quinn had been alerted to the fact that you had not left the bed in days. He was concerned.

Your sniffle gave you away, not pretending to hide. Quinn knew you were struggling, and there was no point in trying to hide your mood. "Why are you crying, lovely? I'd really like to help you, but I'm not sure how," he muttered, leaning in to softly wipe your tears away. "It's nothing, I should be able to handle it by now." you muttered, hinting him to what was wrong without giving away any details.

"Handle what, babe? The roadtrips? I know they're hard. They're hard for me, too. I promise you're not alone in that." Your heart softened at his kind voice, at his genuine concern. Of course the roadtrips were hard, and in a way it helped to know that they were hard for him too, but you knew that wasn't what was bothering you.

You shook your head lightly, curling in further on yourself. At this point, Quinn was even more confused, but he knew that you weren't going to budge. "I'm just gonna get ready for bed, okay sweetheart? We can talk more in a minute," he went to get ready, and also to collect himself and his thoughts.

When he walked into the en suite bathroom, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Brock's girlfriend had texted him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had her number for a reason, but they obviously didn't text much individually.

"Hi Quinn, sorry to bother you so late," it started. "I was a bit worried about Y/N these past few days because she went radio silent over the weekend. We were supposed to have plans over the weekend, but she bailed with pretty much no explanation. So I did some digging on social media, and I found some pretty nasty comments on her most recent posts. I know people sometimes make comments to her at games, but these comments are new. I just wanted to let you know in case that was what was bothering her."

Quinn couldn't believe his eyes. These were some of the most hateful things he had ever read. And he had no idea they were saying things at games. He noticed that you started caring more but also less simultaneously somehow. She did much more hair and makeup than usual, while also covering her body entirely, almost drowning herself in her clothes.

Quinn was horrified. How long have you been dealing with this? Why didn't you say anything? Quinn couldn't get back to the bedroom fast enough. He rushed over to the bed, pulling you into a hug immediately. He felt your tears soaking his shirt, and Quinn had tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm so sorry, I love you," he whispered into your neck.

"I didn't want to bother you. I thought I should be able to deal with it by now. The jealousy, the mean girls. But it has gotten worse. They've been truly evil. I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn't help it." You didn't want to remove yourself from Quinn's embrace. It was the first time you felt comfort in days.

"My love, you are never a bother. I'm appalled of these things they're saying, I can't believe you've been dealing with this in silence. No one deserves this, especially not you, my sweet girl." He coaxed you slowly to look him in the eyes, but you were still touching at almost every nerve ending.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he murmured, running his finger across your cheek. "And above all that, you're kind, loving, caring, empathetic, selfless, giving, and so many other amazing things. You are none of those things they say about you, okay? I'm so sorry, my angel. I know I can't fix it, but I want to. Tomorrow, we're gonna spend the whole day together, okay? And I'm gonna pamper you like you've always deserved. I'm so sorry that you've been going through this. I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna make a statement, we can limit comments to friends only, make a separate, more private account. Whatever you want, baby. I just want this to be fixed and I want you to be okay. You don't deserve to suffer like this because of some evil, hateful people."

You knew Quinn would be helpful and caring if he ever found out about this, but you never expected all of this. You were exhausted and thrilled just thinking about everything. You had let those hateful people bring you down for so long, now you just wanted to be with your sweet boy.

"Can we do all that tomorrow? I just want to be with you. And I lied, I'm starving, I can smell the food from downstairs and I'm practically salivating," Quinn laughed out loud, causing you to smile for the first time in days. "There's my angel, I love you so much. We can do whatever you want, okay? Anything, my treat. Whatever you want. You deserve that damn food, okay? And everything else in the world, I love you so much."

Tears had begun to stream down your face for a different reason. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have such a sweet, caring, and thoughtful man to have and to hold.

"I love you, Quinn. Thank you so much," you mumbled with watery eyes. When he leaned in and connected your lips with his, you knew you would get through this. Yes, their words still hurt. It wasn't fixed for good, it wasn't perfect, but you knew as long as you had Quinn by your side, you could make it through anything.

[goodlucktai]

now the darkness comes alive

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 10k characters: raph & leo

welcome to a very self-indulgent roleswap au that i started dreaming up in my friend’s turtle discord. big thank you to rem for the song rec that gave me the insp to finish (and name!) the fic, and also to lake, sara and meeks for enabling my insane behavior <3

oh, now the darkness comes alive it comes for me and i come for you

—brother, the rural alberta advantage

read on ao3

x

The Krang’s spike pierces through plastron and flesh with a sickening crunch and Leo makes an awful punched-out sound. Raph is seconds too slow, and seconds is all it takes for his entire world to end. 

For the past two years, they’ve been at constant odds, Leo going out of his way to undermine and annoy him. Every interaction was laced with frustration, hurt, worry, confusion. Why are you being like this? Raph wanted to ask, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until an answer came out. What did I do to you?

It was a miserable way to live. Being angry at someone you love more than anything, having nowhere to put it down, forced to hold onto it and hold onto it and hold onto it. Every day another argument, every night laying awake and hoping that tomorrow would be different. 

He missed Leo. He missed how they used to be. He didn’t know why Pops’ announcement had turned them against each other. He hadn’t thought anything would be able to do that. 

Once or twice Raph had a moment of weakness and imagined what it would be like if he just quit. If he went to Splinter and told him he was done. Let someone else be the oldest, the biggest, the one who carried everyone else. But that thought was always followed instantly by another, louder one—how small would he feel if he didn’t have little turtles climbing on his back and sitting on his shoulders? How empty would his arms be if he didn’t have anyone to carry in them? 

That’s the whole point. That’s why he’s so afraid. That’s why being left alone drives him straight past anxious and into a blackout. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. 

And now he’s living his worst nightmare. He’s living outside his own body, watching from somewhere else. It doesn’t feel real. 

His little brother, his little Leo, crumpled beneath him, blood staining bright blue an ugly rust color. His chest is heaving as if each breath hurts and his eyes are wide and wet. He’s gazing up at Raph like they’re children again. It’s the way he looked when he was afraid of a thunderstorm or he was about to get in trouble and he needed Raph to make it better. He always looked at Raph first. 

The monsters behind them are laughing. One of them starts talking, the sound coming closer at a leisurely pace. They aren’t safe. Leo is bleeding. Raph is afraid to touch him, shaking hands hovering over his cracked plastron. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is white with panic. 

He has the escape pod in his hand, not yet activated. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to use it. Leo is skewered to the ground, pinned like a butterfly to corkboard. Donnie’s tech is highly intuitive, all of it programmed into S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI infrastructure, and maybe the pod would know to account for the particulars of the situation, but there almost definitely isn’t a way to remove Leo safely in the seconds they don’t really have to work with. 

Leo blinks, and the wetness in his eyes spills out, and Raph just wants to pick him up. Carry him somewhere safe. Leo has always been larger than life, but right now he looks impossibly small. 

“Hey, hey,” Raphael soothes, the same way he has a thousand times before, after bad dreams and skinned knees, “you’re okay. Raph’s here, you’re okay.”

Those gold eyes slide to the side, looking at a point behind Raph. Leo’s arm moves, and something cold and solid presses against Raph’s chest. It’s the key, and Leo’s hand is trembling so hard that Raph’s closes around it instinctively, taking the weight of it from him. 

Because he’s Leo, the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile. 

“I told you,” he says hoarsely. It somehow manages to sound wry, like they’re in on a joke together. “I got it.”

Then he uses the hand that Raph isn’t holding to activate the escape pod lingering between them and pushes it those scant few fatal inches forward. Raph doesn’t realize what the beep means until the pod unfolds in front of him and yanks him unceremoniously away from his brother.

“No,” Raph says, light-headed with fear, “no!” 

But a machine couldn’t possibly understand the wrong it was doing. What it was leaving behind. Raph pummels the inside of the pod hysterically but without his ninpo he can’t do enough to damage something Donnie built specifically to safeguard their family. It lifts him up and away and Leo’s crooked little smile gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.  

——

When the pod touches down in the lair and releases him, the world around Raph is strangely muffled. There’s a ringing in his ears. He thinks he can hear voices but it’s all just noise. Nothing fully clears the chaos in his own head. 

Donatello is directly in front of him, and his hands are white-knuckled on the side of an empty blue pod. He looks like he already knows something went very wrong. His eyes are bright gold, a mirror of his twin’s, and the quiet fear in them places Raph directly back inside the warehouse, surrounded by monsters, too late to protect anyone, Leo’s blood on his hands, Leo looking up at him— 

Raph’s stomach lurches and he turns sharply away. His gaze lands on Casey Jones instead, who appraises him warily in turn, slim shoulders going stiff beneath the battered Genius Built armor. 

“Leo went back for the key,” Raph says, his voice a deep growling thing that cuts through the noise and brings down a curtain of stillness. He holds the stupid thing out, and if it were made of anything less than strange alien stone, his grip would have crushed it into pieces. Casey’s eyes drop to it and brighten, like it’s a good thing that it’s here even though Leo’s not. Relief floods every inch of his face until he looks even younger than he did already. 

“He got it,” the boy says reverently, taking it in both hands. “I knew he would.”

Raphael wants to scream. He wants to step back and let some other version of himself take the reins while he finds a hole to cry in. He doesn’t want to turn at his father’s firm call of his name or force himself to lift his chin until Splinter can meet his eyes and find all the miserable failure festering inside him, but he does. 

April is looking around and behind Raph, her eyes jumping to the red pod still standing open and then back again, as if finally noticing that Leo wasn’t tucked in there, too. As if it is only just occurring to her that there is a universe that exists where Raphael leaves Leonardo behind, and it’s this one, and it’s horrible. 

Donnie might as well be carved from stone, but Mikey is starting to get worked up, looking between everyone else with huge red eyes, trying to hear the thing they’re all not saying.

“He went back for the key,” Raphael says again, choking the words out. “I couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to—”

He clenches his fists and it drags his siblings’ attention to the blood on them. April covers her mouth and Mikey takes in a breath so sharp it must cut and Donnie starts to flap his hands. Splinter closes his eyes, looking as though he’s aged about a hundred years in the last few minutes. 

“What? That’s not possible,” Casey interjects as if he can’t help it. The young soldier glances around the room, like Leo is going to pop up from behind the turnstiles and rib them all for being so gullible. “Master Leonardo is the greatest ninja the world has ever seen, he wouldn’t just—”

“He’s not master anything!” Raph only barely manages not to roar. “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid!”

Casey flinches away from his anger and Raphael brutally wrestles it into submission. It’s not doing any good here. Casey is a kid, too. 

“Raph,” Mikey blurts, too loud and too fast, “is Leo dead?”

The word sucks the air out of the room and Donnie makes a noise like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Raph says, “No. No, Angie, he’s alive.” 

Even though their ninpo is locked away, and with it that subconscious knowledge of each other always lingering comfortably in the back of their minds like a warm afterthought, Raph knows they would know if Leo was gone. They would be able to tell. The world would be fundamentally changed, nothing would ever be the same again. 

He puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders and adds, “We’re gonna bring him home.” 

The plan isn’t much of one, but their resident schemer is very much not present, and no one questions Raph when he lays it out. Donnie robotically admits that he has the means to track Leo, so the turtles and Future Boy are going to head that way and retrieve him, while Splinter and April babysit the key. 

“Use the shell hogs and just keep moving for now,” Raph says. “They have something we want, we have something they want.”

April nods, grimly understanding. If the only Hail Mary shot they have of getting their brother back is handing over the key and finding an opening to steal it back later, that’s just what they’ll have to do. 

Pops abandoned the Hamato Clan’s teachings in the first place because he didn’t agree with their preachings of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. He handed over the final piece of the dark armor without flinching when his sons’ lives hung in the balance. Even if the rest of their ancestors wouldn’t understand, Raphael does. 

He remembers the jar of oozesquitos he held onto once, trying—and failing—to call Draxum’s bluff. He may be a slow learner, but he only needs to be taught the lesson once. 

Leo risked his life to return this key to his family, so Raph is going to fight for it like an insane person for as long as it makes sense to. But if it comes down to abandoning one to save the other…

He’s his father’s son. He knows which choice he’ll make. 

——

In the Turtle Tank, Mikey and Donnie distract themselves on the trip to Metro Tower station by peppering Casey with questions about the future. The human answers readily, describing Master Donatello’s technological genius—holding out his arms so the entirety of his battered, cyberpunk-style kit is on display—and going on at length about Master Michelangelo’s mystic prowess. 

“I could fly?” Mikey squeaks, drumming his hands on the dash rapidly. “Was it cool?” 

“The coolest,” Casey is quick to agree. “And you opened a portal that sent me through time.”

But the warmth in Casey’s eyes doesn’t last very long, fading into something that looks uncomfortably like grief instead. He tends to look at all of them like that, like he’s in a room full of ghosts. 

He darts a sidelong glance in Raph’s direction and quickly faces forward again, staring out the windshield from Leo’s seat. He’s avoided speaking to him as much as possible, and Raphael can, unfortunately, put two and two together. 

Casey is familiar with everyone else—even April and Splinter—but he dances around Raph as if he’s a stranger. He didn’t know Raph in the future, he knew of him—someone to be respectful of and fall in line for, but certainly not one of the uncles he could brag about to their younger selves. 

When the Tank has gone as far through the tunnels as possible, drawn to a stop at a massive tangle of alien vines, they get out and continue on foot. Raph can feel his little brothers walking as close to him as they can without outright admitting that they’re unnerved, all of their guards completely up, senses dialed to eleven. 

The underground is home to them, always has been, and generally speaking if you’ve seen one subway tunnel you’ve seen them all. But the floodlights from Donnie’s battleshell illuminate a scene that looks like it belongs on another planet. Impossible masses of pink-purple mess dangle everywhere like Halloween store decorations, and the subway cars have been upended off the rails and twisted out of shape. 

Casey’s mask is down, the lenses glowing green as he prowls forward without missing a beat. If he came here from a future where the Krang won, Raph can only imagine what the New York City he grew up in looked like. 

“I hate to be painfully obvious, but since my other half isn’t present, I suppose it falls on my shoulders,” Donatello says after a moment, the sardonic tone of voice at odds with his very low register. “Something feels off.” 

He’s barely got the words out when hundreds of little lights blink at them from the jungle of purple vines—not lights, glowing eyes. The silent tunnel explodes into chaos a second later as they’re ambushed by parasite-controlled people and creatures and even objects. 

Raph and Casey are neatly separated from Donnie and Mikey within a manner of minutes. Raph’s heart is in his throat as he pummels through wave after wave of the infected, and it doesn’t settle until he hears on the comms that his little brothers have taken shelter in the Tank. 

He and Casey are pushed farther and farther away, chased down one of the tunnels by an animated subway car on what looks like spidery crab legs, towards a dead end. When Raphael feels the ground start to give beneath them, he acts on seventeen years of big brother instinct and very little else, seizing Casey around the middle and curling around him completely as they fall. 

It’s a dizzying, topsy-turvy couple of minutes, falling from the subway tracks into a maintenance tunnel underneath, and it takes awhile for his ears to stop ringing. He glances down at the human in his arms and notes with relief that Casey seems to be okay–tucked up small and compact against Raph’s plastron, all limbs accounted for, in such a practiced way that Raph thinks he’s been protected in exactly this manner more than once before. 

Neither of them speak right away, coming down from the rush of adrenaline and waiting for the shifting of crumbled concrete to stop and the dust to clear. Raph’s shell was made of sturdy stuff even before he became a chaotic alchemists’s bioengineering experiment, so when he’s certain they’re relatively safe, he pushes off the ground with his hands and lets the debris roll harmlessly off his back and shoulders. 

“Are you hurt?” Raph asks, sitting back to give Casey room to collect himself. 

“Um, no,” Casey says, tugging his cape down from where it had caught around one of his pauldrons. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but more like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that it’s just the two of them, looking up at Raph and then away again. 

Raph can’t help it. He says, “I died, didn’t I? In the future.”

Casey jerks, as if he was surprised to be asked so plainly. Then his shoulders hunch, and he nods. 

“You all did,” he says haltingly. “Uncle Tello when I was thirteen, and sensei and Uncle Angie just… just before I got sent back.” 

Cold dread slams into Raph’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe he and his siblings could ever truly be divided, but the proof is sitting in front of him. It’s hard to hear that the end of the world managed to take Raph from his little siblings. Donnie from his twin. That Leo and Mikey were left all alone, with a kid to take care of, and a losing war to fight. 

Casey swallows hard, and curls his hands into fists, visibly forcing himself past the loss that probably sits in his stomach and throat like barbed wire. 

“But you—it happened when I was little. I wasn’t really old enough to remember you.” Each word mincing and careful, he goes on, “Growing up, sensei talked about you all the time. He used to say you were the best—best brother, best leader. And he was so afraid when Master Splinter put him in charge, because he had no idea how to be as good as you. He didn’t want things to change, he was happy being your right-hand man. Sensei made it sound like he was really childish about the whole thing. He said he must have been a real disappointment.”

Raphael absorbs the words like a blow. 

Leo, his little brother, his little star, outshining everyone and pulling the world into his orbit, earnestly giving them the light and warmth they needed to live and grow and flourish, a disappointment?

Raph has been angry with him more times than he can count. Hurt by him, even, because that’s what people tend to do when they don’t understand each other. Frustrated and antagonized and fed-up, sure. But disappointed?

He has a shining, crystalized memory of being a child, no more than eight years old, crying over a picture book because the monster in the book looked like him. It was big and hulking, with dangerous-looking spikes and an alligator tail. Raph hadn’t realized Leo had found him until tiny hands took the book away and a serious little face, not yet grown into its stripes, assessed the situation. 

Even back then, Leo was too clever for his own good. He tossed the book on the floor and said, “They got it wrong. That author must not have ever seen any real monsters if they can mess up that bad. Who let them write a book?”

Raph was hardly able to see through his tears, making a distressed rumble in his chest, but his arms opened automatically. Mikey was in a phase where he had decided he was too big to be carried and Donnie had a hot-and-cold relationship with touch that his siblings all knew to maneuver carefully, but Leo absorbed any and all affection like a hungry little plant soaking up sunlight. He climbed right into Raph’s hug and his arms looped around Raph’s neck and hung on fiercely. 

“My Raphie is a better hero than all those knights and princes and wizards anyway,” Leo had said with conviction so huge it was better suited to someone five times his size. “I have the real deal. I should be the one writing books!”

From then on, Leo vetted any and all shared reading material that made it down to the lair before allowing it to be distributed with a very grown-up gravitas. Some things went straight to Donnie or Mikey’s rooms, or back into the garbage if Leo was feeling vicious about it that day, and no one ever said a word about it. 

About three months ago, April had brought them a bundle of the subscriptions they got mailed to her apartment, and Leo picked up a comic that came for Raph and started to flip through it like they were seven and eight years old again. He caught himself too late and looked embarrassed, sliding it across the counter and quickly making his escape, but Raph felt warm all the way down to his bones. That was proof his Leo was still in there, that he still cared, despite doing his best, for some reason, to convince everyone he didn’t. 

His Leo, who always cared. Who cared too much. 

Casey gives Raph another one of those searching, sideways glances, there and gone again. 

“Sensei said he let you down once and he never wanted to do that again. He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud. Is—is this what he was talking about?”

Raph looks at the boy in front of him, Leo’s kid from a future that doesn’t exist yet, wearing tech his Uncle Tello must have meticulously built to outlast everything else, Uncle Angie’s smiley faces etched into the knee guards in a pop of silliness that somehow still existed in the apocalypse, his sensei’s red stripes painted proudly front and center on his mask. He carries his family with him with every step he takes.

It’s no wonder Casey is so cagey around him. If he was raised even in part by Leo, then he was probably raised on stories of Raph that only painted the good and the funny parts of the bad, because that’s how Leo loves. And it left Casey to reconcile how everyone’s hero Raphael could have ever thought poorly of Casey’s hero Leonardo. 

“Sounds like that sensei of yours had no clue what he was talking about half the time,” Raph say gruffly. “Raph may wanna pick up him and rattle him like a snowglobe about a hundred times a day but that’s just the Leo Effect. Ask anybody.” 

Casey blinks up at him, one corner of his mouth giving into a reluctant smile. “Commander O’Neil said that before,” he admits. 

“Now her you can listen to any time of day or night, because she’s never wrong,” Raph says, pushing himself upright and offering Casey a hand up, too. “Leo could never do anything to make me love him less. It kind of seems impossible after a lifetime together, but I actually only keep finding reasons to love him more.”

Sliding his much smaller hand into Raph’s huge one, Casey lets himself be tugged to his feet. He’s gazing up at Raph with wide eyes, tugging on the wrist of one glove absently. 

“Leo is as silly as they come,” Raph says. “He needs practical people like you and me in his life to set him straight.”

All at once, Casey’s face brightens, glowing from the inside out. His spine straightens, shoulders going back. It’s every inch Leo’s expression when he receives honest praise from his family in any direction. And Raph realizes abruptly that at least part of the reason Casey has been so nervous around him is because he doesn’t want to disappoint his father’s hero, either. 

——

They find a maintenance shaft and climb the rest of the way out of the tunnels, regrouping with the whole clan in the Metro Tower station. Donnie brings Leo’s location up on a screen and they all huddle around him—falling silent after a moment as they take in what the tracker is telling them. 

“He’s right—right on top of us,” Donnie says haltingly. “He should be—”

April seizes his arm and he cuts himself off mid-word. With a sense of dread, Raph follows her wide eyes across the room. 

Leo is standing there, watching them. He’s been standing there the whole time. Unmoving, completely silent, and covered in the same squishy, fleshy pink parasitic slime that every other infected they’ve encountered up until now has been manipulated by. There’s a mass of it concealing the lower half of his face like one of the respirators Mikey wears for his spray paint projects, baring dozens of large serrated teeth in a sneer. 

Leo’s eyes are pink, the pupils slitted. If Raph couldn’t see him breathing, he wouldn’t know for sure if he was even alive. 

“Leo?” Mikey calls out in a warbling voice, hands trembling. “Can you hear us?” 

It doesn’t get a reaction. 

Raph takes one slow, careful step towards him.

That gets a reaction. 

Leo explodes into motion so quickly it doesn’t make sense, going from zero to a hundred in seconds. He slams into Raphael with the force of a freight train, sparks flying from where his blades meet the sai Raph only barely manages to throw up in time. 

Their siblings scatter, Donnie yanking Mikey firmly behind him, April putting out an arm to keep Casey back, too. Splinter dives in to help his oldest son, the two of them fighting to subdue but not to injure, hyper-aware of the cracks in Leo’s plastron and the matching wound on his shoulder. The last thing Leo’s father and big brother want to do is hurt him any more. 

Leo doesn’t give them an inch of the same consideration, as cold and methodical as a knife. His swords are fully in action, a very present danger to the rest of them, singing and sweeping with fatal precision. 

They’re only fighting for minutes, even though it feels like hours, when Raphael feels it. An insistent tugging on the front of his mind. He and Leo are locked together, swords caught for a moment in the guards of Raph’s sai, and Raph spares a daring second to look into his possessed brother’s pink eyes. 

They glow white instantly, a successful connection. Leo’s mind pours into Raph’s like a flood. 

Take them take them TAKE THEM TAKE THEM TAKE THEM 

As if moving on autopilot, Raph’s hands fly to Leo’s wrists and wrench—not hard enough to sprain, but hard enough that the slider’s grip flies open and the katana clatter to the ground. Leo rips himself free and darts back to give himself room for the next attack. He makes no move to recover the swords and Raph scoops them up a second later, heart pounding. 

It was so quick, so clean, that no one watching from the outside would be able to guess what had just happened. Leo surrendered his weapons to his family in the only way he possibly could, begging with his whole body to be disarmed before he hurt anyone, so desperate for Raph to hear him that he triggered a mind meld for the first time in two years.  

The room comes alive, infected creatures spilling inside and surrounding them all, punching up through the floor from the tunnels they had just escaped from. A subway car covered in pink slime rears back and roars like a beast. Leo moves through the crowd of Hamato like water. The only one he touches is April, a brush of their shoulders together.

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, hand flying to her bag where the key is. Where it was.  

Leo has it in his hand, facing them with unseeing eyes. The grotesque, fleshy mask covering his mouth twists into a stranger’s ugly smile. 

Raph thinks, No wait. It’s not supposed to happen like this. 

They’re not supposed to lose. 

April uses her bat to knock the rest of the deforestation chemicals toward the Krang, causing an explosion that stalls the hoard of infected just long enough to create an escape route. Donnie scoops Mikey’s shell into his arms and Splinter has to tuck a hand around both Casey and Raphael’s elbows and yank to get them moving. Casey doesn’t make it easy.

He must know a losing fight when he sees one. He must be familiar with this scene from the world he came here from. But he struggles anyway, eyes locked without blinking on the shape of a Leo they’re leaving behind. 

Raph wants to struggle, too. He wants to stay behind and fight until he can’t lift his arms or stay on his feet. He wants his lost little brother to know someone’s fighting for him, that someone will keep fighting for him for as long as it takes. 

But responsibility perches heavy on his shoulders. More than one person is depending on him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done to let himself be pulled one step away, then another. It hurts more than every single other thing he’s survived. 

“Raph’s coming back for you,” he calls out, voice thick, swords weighing a hundred pounds each in his hands. “Hear me, Leo? Raph’s coming back.”

Leo doesn’t give any impression that he heard. He turns at some silent command and walks away, taking the key with him. The Krang got what they came for. 

——

Kneeling on a rooftop, watching the Technodrome come through a hole in the sky and rain destruction down on their city, Raph finds himself thinking I wish Leo was here. 

It’s a stupid thought to have, because Leo being there would solve a very large part of the whole problem. But specifically, Raph finds himself wishing he had his clever, charming brother at his side, who always knew what to say. Who always had an idea. Who understood exactly how to reach out to people and lift their spirits, rekindle their hope. Leo isn’t the strongest of his brothers, or the fastest without his ninpo, or the smartest next to Donatello, but that doesn’t mean he can’t outshine the rest of them in his own way. 

He’s always been the one they followed, really. It just so happened he was always going the same way Raph was. 

“He was happy being your right-hand man,” Casey said. 

How could Raph have misunderstood him so completely? How could he have just left him behind, twice now? What if it becomes a pattern? What if Leo thinks this is all he can expect from them? 

Raph’s family is arguing behind him, unwilling to accept their failure but unable to see any path ahead to victory. It certainly looks hopeless. New York City is burning, people are screaming, parasites and infected are filling the streets by the dozens. 

A familiar hand lands on his arm. Raph feels like he’s wading chest-deep through mud, but he manages to turn his head and look down into Mikey’s big red eyes. 

“What did Leo say earlier?” Mikey asks in a small voice. “I sort of felt it when you connected but I couldn’t hear either of you.”

“It was like being aware of people talking in another room,” Donnie adds, leaning into Raph from the opposite side. “You can just make out the cadence of their conversation but no words come through clearly.”

Raph looks down at his hands, the katana he’s still holding. He rubs his thumb over the guard on one, remembering Leo’s glowing pride the first time he manifested them. He felt so buoyed by Leo’s smile in that moment that he could have fought the Shredder a hundred times over and won. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss having you on my team. 

“He wanted me to take these,” Raph says. “He was really scared of what he might do with them.”

Donnie’s golden eyes are very sharp, staring without blinking at the only proof of his twin with them here on the outskirts of the apocalypse. Behind the turtles, Splinter and April are still going back and forth with each other, but Casey’s voice has tapered into silence. 

“What else did he tell you?” Donnie asks abruptly. 

“Nothing,” Raph replies, numb.

“C’mon, Raphie,” Mikey says, mustering a sweet smile for him, even though smiling is probably the last thing in the world he feels like doing. “Our Leo? Keeping it brief? I’ll bet he had a hundred things he was trying to say.”

“Let us in,” Donnie says, pressing his head a little harder into Raph’s arm. Dogged and determined, fully ready to dig in with his teeth and not let up until he gets his way. “Let us see.”

Raphael is exhausted, and hurting, and missing the absent piece of their whole so keenly that he could lay down right here and cry for days. But the one thing he’s never been able to do is deny his little brothers anything they care enough about to ask for this earnestly. 

“Okay,” he says and sets Leo’s swords in front of him carefully. With his hands open, Donnie and Mikey each seize one in both of their own, and Raph tries to center himself. 

The first time Raph and Leo did this, it was well before they had fully realized their ninpo. He doesn’t need the mystic powers they’ve come to rely so much on to recognize the brilliant purple lightning and laughing orange bonfire on the fringes of his mind and let them both in. 

The lightning and the bonfire both skirt familiarly over the steadfast red mountain that makes up their eldest brother, at home together. They all feel the painful absence of a mischievous blue wind so strongly that it takes their collective breath away. 

The mountain guides them to the things the wind had given him. Above everything else, fear—of what’s happened and what hasn’t happened yet, fear of the parasite wriggling inside him, fear of his own two hands, fear of failing his family even more than he already has—

Stop, the bonfire says, burning warm and bright. Focus. 

The lightning strikes forward, knowing the wind better than the rest of them from a lifetime of sharing the same sky. It follows the wind’s twists and turns unerringly, illuminating the way in thunderclaps until it’s possible to break past the dark storm of fear entirely.

Behind it there are a hundred other things. Stubbornness and bitterness, a familiar grit that comes from being on the losing side and refusing to give up anyway. Anxiety that his efforts won’t be enough. Love, as deep and rich and unknowable as an ocean. Regret. Loneliness. Hope. 

Take them, the wind had said in the fleeting seconds it had to say anything at all, shoving as many secrets forward as it could. Take this and this and this and this. 

Leon, you devious little creature, the lightning says, with scorching pride and mean-spirited glee. 

It goes both ways, the bonfire cackles. The Krang can see into Lee’s head, but Lee can see into the Krang’s head, too!

This is it, the mountain realizes. This is how we win.  

——

Galvanized, the Hamatos split up one more time. Casey, April and Splinter to get the key back and keep the Krang occupied, and Raph, Mikey and Donnie to save Leo. 

Once Raph and his brothers are inside the Technodrome, they all understand exactly where to go. Everything the Krang knows about how to operate his ship, Leo knows, through that unwanted window between their minds. And everything Leo knows, he shunted as hard and fast as he could into Raph’s brain, hidden in a tangle of emotion so thick that it went entirely undetected by the parasite riding along. And since Raph shared the knowledge with the other two, Donatello could probably pilot this weird spacecraft blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.   

Mikey is swinging one of his ‘chucks restlessly, ready for whatever fight comes his way first. He’s already a force to be reckoned with on a good day. He’s a walking natural disaster on a bad one, up there with hurricanes and tornadoes. 

And this is definitely a bad one. It’s the worst day they’ve ever had. 

“Dee’s got the ship and I’ve got Dee,” Mikey says firmly, sounding much older than he did this time yesterday. “You get Leo.”

Raphael moves with ninja stealth and speed, picking his way through the halls. It smells awful, like raw meat left out in the sun, and in the gloom it almost seems as though the walls and floors are squirming. 

From what Leo gave him, Raph knows better than to hope he and his siblings can go undetected for very long. The ship is almost a living organism itself, and can probably feel each step of progress Raph is making toward the bridge. 

It doesn’t slow him down. Every second Leo spends here is a second too long already. 

The maze-like halls open up into a cavernous dome, where a catwalk stretches toward a huge bulbous window. Outside, Raph can see a panoramic view of Manhattan engulfed in fire. It looks like a warzone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush. 

It’s Raph’s city, the place that raised him, and for the first time in his life it’s hard to look at. 

His hindbrain pings to awareness a split-second before he hears the movement of metal against metal, and Raph spins around to look up at General Krang. 

He’s seated in a throne on a dias, a smug, toothy smile on his face. Leo is standing like a statue at his feet, this tiny slip of green and pink and muddied blue. His discolored eyes gaze listlessly forward into nothing. 

Little Leo, who always wanted to be carried. Little Leo, who hunted down each and every opportunity to make his brothers laugh. Little Leo, who wanted so badly to be even just half as important to them as they were to him. Little Leo, who Raph wouldn’t know how to begin to live without. 

“You again,” the Krang says. “Nothing smart to say? This one wouldn’t shut up until I improved him. And here I thought it was just an unfortunate hallmark of your species.”

Raphael sees red at the way the wicked metallic fingertips of the Krang’s armor cage Leo’s head and jostle it carelessly, like he’s nothing but a cheap toy. Raph bares his teeth, a furious rumble in his chest, but doesn’t dare to say a single hateful word while Leo’s life is literally held in the Krang’s hand. 

“You probably would have made a much more impressive puppet, with all that brute strength,” the Krang goes on. “Oh well. All in due time.”

The alien must give a nonverbal order, because he retracts his hand and Leo springs forward. 

He doesn’t have his swords anymore, since they’re strapped to Raph’s shell for the time being, but the pink slime has trailed down his arms and tapered into two sharp points that he wields like knives instead. 

They meet in a ringing clash, Raph catching the pink knives with his sai. 

“I know you’re in there,” Raph says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s okay, Leo. I’m gonna make it okay.” 

The way Leo fights is vicious. He’s fast and he knows where to hit. There’s no joy in his body, no cocky gleam in his eye. Raph can’t help bu remember the way his mind felt when they connected so briefly earlier—the surround-sound of wailing panic and self-hatred, confined behind a stranger’s cold expression. 

Bearing down on his little brother, forcing him to his knees, Raph chokes out, “I’m not leavin’ you behind this time. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you ever again.”

“Empty promises seem to run in your family,” the Krang sneers. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Raph says through gritted teeth. “Don’t listen to him. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t I? Let’s ask the others, shall we?”

Black vines shoot up from the organic mass that makes up the floor of the bridge. Donnie and Mikey are suspended inside them, fighting like animals—Mikey in particular is using language that there is no way Splinter knows he knows. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice vermin slinking around in my ship?” the General asks. “Is this really the best the three of you can do?”

Leo is scratching and clawing at Raph’s hands, trying to break free of him at any cost. Raph is much bigger and much stronger than he is, and it hurts to hold him down like this, but he knows it would be so much worse to let him go. 

“This whole time, we just weren’t listening to each other,” Raph says, lowering his voice. Everyone else can probably still hear, but he wants Leo to know Raph is talking to him. “Somehow, I convinced myself you didn’t care, when I know better. You care so much it makes the inside of your head a nightmare to live in. The only thing you think about is being good enough for us.”

Leo finally manages to twist free, Raph releasing his arms at the last second when it becomes clear the parasite doesn’t care if its host’s elbow or shoulder gets dislocated. Leo rolls away and comes up on one knee, hand braced beneath him, the other white-knuckled around a knife. 

He can hear the Krang becoming agitated, because Mikey and Donnie refuse to be still. The vines holding them snap and give one after another, faster than they can be replaced. There’s something stirring inside of Raph, too, a fire in his chest that wants to roar to life. 

Leo strikes again. Despite everything, even with all the horrors they’re surrounded by, Raphael wants to smile. 

When they started training together, Leo was the first of the four of them to perfect a technique. Raph lifted him up onto his shoulders in victory and let him crow about it for the better part of an hour, flushed with joy and pride. Since then, Leo has never once landed that particular move wrong. 

An outsider wouldn’t clock that he placed his hand nearly four inches too far to the left, but Raphael knows those four inches made a fatal difference between a bad puncture wound and a severed artery. 

Leo has no true autonomy left but there’s a sliver of him awake behind the wheel. He’s still fighting tooth and nail in there. 

There isn’t any force in the entire goddamn universe prepared for how tricky and stubborn Raph’s little brothers can be. 

“I’m listening now, Leo,” Raph says, alight with how much he loves him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone.”

Leo strains forward, dropping the knife and grabbing at Raph’s arm instead. Between one blink and the next, his eyes go from pink to shining gold. 

Raph seizes him, holding his face in the cradle of both hands, his heart soaring around in his chest like a bird. 

“Yes! That’s it! Come on back, big man, Raphie’s got you!”

With a slam, Leo goes to his knees, scrabbling desperately at the fleshy mass on his face. His fingers dig into the slime, but he can’t get a solid enough grasp to tear himself free. His chest is heaving, whole body shaking. He’s fighting so hard but it’s not quite enough. 

And Raph’s ninpo reacts to a sibling in distress the way it did when Raph used it for the first time, breaking past the Krang’s seal like it’s nothing. It surges forward in the shape of a river, finding the familiar place inside of Leo where his connection to their ancestors lives, and making a temporary home there. Raph’s armor limns his brother in rosy red, swelling from underneath his skin in a powerful flood and pushing the parasite out. It loses every inch it had to cling to while Leo continues to pull. 

Finally the worm is ripped completely away, shrieking as it goes, and Leo gasps. He drops the squirming creature and scuttles away from it, gulping in unobstructed air. The corner of his mouth is torn deep and bleeding sluggishly, and his face looks pale and hollow. 

But his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, and they’re looking right at Raph and seeing him, a connection as meaningful and important as any mind meld.

Because he’s Leo, the first thing he says is, in a croaky, exhausted voice, “Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

Raph barks out a laugh, tears in his eyes. Earlier today he had reached a point where he thought he’d never smile again.

In this moment, he feels like he could hold up the whole sky and grin while he’s doing it. 

Purple and orange spark madly all around them, a lightning storm and a forest fire ready to rain merry hell upon any unfortunate soul in their path, just enough to keep the General busy while Leo finds his footing. 

Raph wants to scoop them all into his arms and carry them someplace safe from all of this, but he knows he can’t. That place doesn’t exist yet. They have to fight for it. 

Leo breathes in deep and lets it go, takes the swords that Raph passes him in hands that don’t shake, and reaches out for his brothers’ light with a light of his own. 

A gale rushes down from the mountain, leading the charge.

“Hey, ugly,” Leo calls out hoarsely, pointing a blade at the Krang. “I’ve been dying to tell you this all day. The decor in here fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Raph says, half despair, half delight. 

Landing beside him, twirling a glowing bo, Donnie stands shoulder to shoulder with his twin and says, “I would cite you ‘time and place’, Nardo, but honestly you have a point.”

“No because it’s so distracting,” Mikey pipes up, dropping weightlessly into a crouch on Raph’s carapace, narrowed eyes glinting in the dim light like a smug cat’s. “Presentation matters! Zero out of ten, would not be held hostage here again.”

“At least it matches the Six Flags Fright Fest he's got going on upstairs.” Leo indicates his own temple with the hilt of one sword. “There’s something to be said for consistency, am I right?”

It’s as much of a hint as it needs to be. The Krang isn’t stupid, which is a big part of the reason why he’s been such a difficult opponent. He understands within the space of a few seconds what Leonardo is saying—what it means for him to have any idea what the Krang’s headspace looks like. This whole time, there has been a subtle, calculative undermining at play right under his nose. 

He clenches those claws into fists that have enough power to bring down skyscrapers. 

“You really don’t know,” the Krang intones ominously, “when to shut your mouth.”

“Says you and everybody else I know,” Leo replies, unflinching and fearless. “Get some new material.”

Raphael gets it now. Maybe he always has. He understands what Splinter was thinking when he looked at Leo, still growing up but ready at sixteen for the beginning of something greater, and decided he should be the one to lead. 

His brothers would follow him anywhere. Raph would walk straight into hell without looking back if that’s where Leo decided to go. 

——

It’s an instant relief to have those singing silver blades back on their side. Leo’s portals open and close with dizzying speed, moving his brothers like chess pieces around a board, somehow keeping track of it all. For a moment, it’s easy to think they might win. 

And then the Krang blows them all away with the flick of his finger. 

Raph thought his world had ended when he was too late to save his brother in the warehouse. Then he realized the world was actually ending in slow stages all around him when he had to leave his brother behind again at the mercy of a monster. 

It turns out the end of the world happens here. On the quiet, abandoned expanse of Staten Island, listening to his little brother’s wrecked voice over the comms say, “Casey, get ready to close the door.”

“I’m ready, sensei!” Casey reports, prompt and reliable. “Tell me when you’re home free!”

There is a split-second of hesitation from Leo—the barest pause, practically nothing—that sends Raph’s heart straight into his throat. Donatello jerks all the way upright from where he was nursing what’s almost definitely a broken wrist, and Mikey goes dangerously still. They heard it, too. 

“Yeah,” Leo says, just barely too late to be believable to the siblings who know him inside and out, “I’ll tell you.”

“Belay that order, Casey,” April cuts in sharply, every inch the Commander she was in another world. “Leonardo, think twice before you lie to me. What’s your play?”

There’s another pause, and Raph can imagine in crystal-clear detail the way Leo’s throat works when he thinks he’s in trouble with their sister, the way he’s probably clenching and unclenching his hands while he wars with that stupid self-inflicted mission to never make himself vulnerable to anyone for anything. 

The little brother need to be liked wins out. Leo admits, “I can’t think of how else to make him stay there.”

The ground falls out from beneath Raph’s feet. 

“No!” Mikey shrieks, fully at his limit of shit he’s willing to deal with. “No no no no!”

“Sensei I can’t just—I won’t just trap you in the Prison Dimension!” Casey says, horrified at what he was almost tricked into. “There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything,” Leo rasps. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t let him—let him get you. Any of you. I have to stop him while there’s still a chance.”

“It’ll be a real shame if you save the world from the Krang this way, only for me to destroy it myself when I rip the universe apart to drag your sorry self back here,” Donnie bites out. “And I will, Nardo. I swear to every imaginary higher power you can think of, I will.”

“Leonardo,” Splinter says sternly from April’s end, the leaping panic in his tone well-hidden from everyone but his two eldest, “you will not sacrifice yourself for us today even if it means the world ends tomorrow. That is not what our family does. We are taking you home one way or another, Baby Blue.”

If being in trouble with April is bad, being in trouble with Splinter is cataclysmic. Leo is a daddy’s boy through and through. 

He hesitates again, seconds they don’t have to spare inching by, then says, “How?”

Before anyone can answer there’s a ring of metal and a heavy slam, and his line goes silent. Leo is fighting for his life a thousand feet above their heads, but at least he’s fighting. At least he’s willing to wait for help.

He sounded afraid, Raph can’t help but think. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if he has to. 

“I’ll get him down,” Mikey says, planting his feet, ready to move mountains. “I become a badass mystic warrior at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

“Wait, Uncle—Michelangelo,” Casey blurts, self-correcting a beat too late, “you can’t, when you did it last time, you didn’t survive.”

“If future me can open a portal through time and space and send my entire nephew through safe and sound, all by myself,” Mikey says, “then this me can do at least half of that with my brothers here to help.”

“The math is sound,” Donnie says, eyes trained unblinkingly upwards. “We haven’t met a single universal constant that we haven’t been able to turn upside down and inside out just for fun.”

“I’ve got ‘em, Casey,” Raph adds, his heart going out to the kid who stands to lose his whole family all over again if the wind blows the wrong way. “I’m the biggest, big enough to carry everybody if I have to. Nothing bad’s gonna happen while Raph is here.”

“Oh,” the boy says, very soft. “I remember you saying that.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Leo shouts suddenly, his comm coming back on with a burst of static and a strange ambient whine that must be what the inside of the portal sounds like. “Now, please, now!”

Mikey lights up, a tiny self-made sun of burning, shining gold. He grits his teeth and lifts his hands, trembling under the pressure of the cosmic forces he’s wrestling into submission. Donnie wraps both arms around him and braces his little brother with his entire body, absorbing as much as he can. The feedback is halved instantly, and when Raph steps in and holds them both, it’s reduced even more. 

With a little huff, Mikey works his shoulders, like this is nothing more complicated than the tricky recipe he once found for an eight layer Doberge cake on one of those unreadable walls-of-text baking blogs. If he can figure out that, he can do anything. 

Lightning and fire and rock-solid, steady earth stretch out their hands, reaching past the open gateway and through empty space, searching for the windy blue thing that doesn’t belong in this darkness. 

The wind reaches back eagerly, desperate to be grabbed up and taken home and held forever. 

Inside the Prison Dimension, bright chains flare into existence—some to tangle around the Krang and immobilize him, still more to wrap around Leo’s chest and haul him back through the door while it’s still open, at a reckless, break-neck speed. 

It would have been dangerous for a squishy human, but Leo lands on the surface of the Technodrome in a roll and manages to find his feet. 

“I don’t have a sword,” he blurts, panicked. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Mikey clenches his fists. Ready to open up the portal that killed him in another world, after all, if that’s what it takes to get his big brother down here where he belongs. 

Then Donnie says, “You don’t need to have a sword, dumb-dumb. I have one.” 

It materializes in his hand, a purple construct of one of the matching lightsabers he made for his and Leo’s eleventh birthday. They were very quickly confiscated but Leo laughed like a maniac for the three minutes they had them, and Donnie kept the schematics for a rainy day. 

“Will that work?” Mikey asks, too breathless to sound as terrified as he probably is. 

“It’ll work,” Donnie says shortly. “A sword is a sword. Now’s not the right time to be a snob, Leon. Come here.”

Leo makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and feels for the shared space between them where their ninpo lives, where the mountain and the bonfire and the lightning and the wind all live. Raphael can feel it when that mischievous blue energy finds a brand new rule to bend and decides sure, that sounds fun.  

Runes etch themselves into the handle of the Genius Built lightsaber. 

Raphael shouts, “Casey, now!”

At the same time the looming portal above their heads sends a shockwave over New York City, popping and sparking along the edges like a downed transformer as it shrinks and shrinks until it closes around the Technodrome, a flash of bright cyan heralds the abrupt head-on collision of Leo into Donnie when he swaps places with the sword construct his twin was holding. 

They go down in a haphazard pile of limbs, groaning where they lay on the concrete, and then groaning again when a hundred pounds of little brother gleefully joins the pile with an enthusiastic flop. 

The explosion above them is an afterthought. April and Splinter and Casey are all talking over each other on the comms, frantic for confirmation that they all came out of this alive. That they haven’t lost anything they won’t survive losing. 

“We’re all here!” Mikey says, crowing it to the wide-open, smoke-filled sky. “We won!”

Raph should probably elaborate on that for his dad, sister and nephew’s sake—let them know that everyone’s really okay, describe the little miracles Mikey and Donnie just pulled out of thin air like it was nothing, tell them about Leo trembling like a leaf in the wind but tucked securely into his twin’s side and absorbing the warmth of another living person like it was something he’d always taken for granted before— 

But there’s something else he needs to do first. 

“Noooooooo,” three little turtles protest as their biggest brother rounds out the turtle pile, flattening them to the ground. 

“Tough luck, bozos,” Raph rumbles. “I ain’t lettin’ a single one of you out of my sight ever again.”

Mikey giggles, half-hysterical, a contagious, familiar sound. Donnie shuts his eyes to hear it better. Leo hides his cold face in Raph’s neck and doesn’t say anything else at all. Raph holds them all tight, and imagines a universe where he’s strong enough to never lose them.

Maybe it’s this one. 

——

Casey, who is both medically trained by Leonardo’s future self and entirely immune to the slider’s particular brand of treatment-avoidant bullshit, turns out to be a godsend. Leo uses every trick in the book and still winds up in a bed in the infirmary. 

For someone who craves attention as much as he does, it would make more sense for him to milk a hospital stay for all he’s worth. But it’s always been exactly the opposite, Leo escaping at the first possible opportunity and hiding out somewhere until negotiations are made. 

After all these years, Raph finally has him figured out. 

Leo’s face is still puffy and red where it’s healing, but it’s inevitably going to scar—through the right side of his mouth and down his chin, where the parasite clung the hardest. And for the three days that they’ve been home, Leo ducks his head when anyone looks at him, talking to his hands or his knees instead of to their faces. 

Don’t look at me, Leonardo is screaming with his whole body. Raph doesn’t need a mind meld to hear that, loud and clear. 

Too bad, he thinks, not unkindly. His heart aches as he sits on the side of Leo’s bed and watches his brother tuck his chin immediately. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, lifting Leo’s face again in one large hand, gentle and implacable. Leo resists briefly, but gives it up for a bad job when Raph rumbles at him.  

“Don’t,” Leo manages. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Raph challenges. “I missed you.”

Leo’s eyes are downcast and wet, his mouth screwed stubbornly to one side in a manner that probably hurts, given the stitches. Raphael is a professional at outlasting moody little turtles, and he’ll sit here until the next apocalypse if that’s what it takes. 

Eventually, Raph’s patience pays off. Slowly, gingerly, Leo opens his hands. He lets Raph take them and squeeze strength and warmth into them, and clings back for as long as it takes to cobble together the remarkable courage he needs to look his big brother in the eye. 

“I lost the key,” Leo starts damningly.

“You got it back,” Raph says, ignoring the nauseous lurch in his stomach at the memory of the warehouse, Leo pinned to the floor, the escape pod activating and leaving him there alone. His nightmares always start right there these days. “We’re the ones who couldn’t keep hold of it.”

“I almost hurt you,” Leo says, a note of desperation entering his tone. “I almost—”

“You didn’t,” Raph counters firmly. “You have no idea how much more incredible it is that you didn’t.”

“I was so mean.” Tears drip down his face as he finally loses the battle not to cry. “When the Krang was in my head he saw everything and he said—said you must hate me, and he did all of you a favor getting rid of me, and I thought—I thought that makes sense, because I was so mean, and I’m nothing but trouble, and I don’t contribute, and even when dad gave me the chance to step up and be something I still wanted—I just wanted—”

Little Leo, who invented games of make-believe so Raph could feel like a hero. Little Leo, forever finding ways to make recalcitrant Donnie play, pleased as punch every time he pulled it off. Little Leo, who could listen to Mikey ramble for hours without getting bored or short-tempered, his bedroom walls an ever-evolving art collage of his little brother’s best work. Little Leo, who just wanted to be held and held and held. 

Raph lifts Leo into his arms, as easy now as it was when he was three and nine and twelve, and holds him. Leo shakes with how hard he’s crying, even though he’s not really making any noise. His hands scramble to grab onto Raph’s shell and he lets Raph squeeze him into something young and small and hurt and loved. 

As a general concept, Raph disagrees with murder—but he thinks he could make an exception for the monster who forced his way into Leo’s brain and turned it into an echo chamber of all the worst things he had ever thought about himself. 

An eternity alone in the dark with nothing but his failures is as close to justice as they’ll get. It’s kind of poetic, right? is all Mikey will have to say about it when it comes up a week from now, a mean-spirited little smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo chokes out. “I’m sorry, Raphie. I’ll do—I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll never let you down again.”

“He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud,” Casey said.

“Blue, this thing you think you gotta make up for—this price you think you gotta pay for existing—it doesn’t exist,” Raph tells him in a tone that brooks no room for argument, barely managing not to grind his teeth together. If anyone else had said anything even half as bad as Leo had said about Leo, he would’ve punched them straight through a wall by now. “You mean more to me than what you contribute to the team. Even if you brought nothing to the table, which is not true, you’d still be stuck with us forever. Non-negotiable. You could be a hateful little brat every single day of your life and I would still take a bullet for you, no questions asked. Are you hearing me?”

“Hearing you,” Leo mutters, knowing better to disagree with that tone.

“All I want from you is you. All I need is my Leo. Whether he’s feeling goofy or annoying or pissed off or scared—I want every shape of him. Every version. Don’t you dare,” Raph adds, punctuating this by a little rattle of the Leo he’s holding, “make me go a single day without him ever again.”

Leo is fully hidden beneath his chin, so there’s no way for Raph to tell what his face is doing. But he hears the little punched-out breath, and feels it a second later when Leo’s white-knuckled grip on his shell loosens, just a bit. No longer convinced he’ll be ripped away for some imaginary offense.

It’ll take more than one conversation to fix everything, but they’ve got more than one. They’ve got a million. They have the whole rest of their lives on each other’s team. 

“I missed you, too,” Leo whispers, like they’re four and five years old again, huddled under the blankets after bedtime and telling each other secrets. 

Back then, monsters were easy to conquer. Nothing scary or sad dared to follow little brothers to Raphie’s room. A warm nest and a turtle pile was the answer to every heartache. 

Some things stay exactly the same, Raph thinks fondly, amused by the way Leo’s already drifting off. He settles in for a nap on his plastron, Leo tucked securely under one arm. He gives it about thirty seconds before Mikey and Donnie stop listening outside the door and sneak inside to complete the pile, and starts the count in his head. 

He makes it to twenty-seven before the mattress gives tellingly beneath two pairs of hands, and he smiles. 

[zombiigrll]

Could you write an enemies to lovers carl grimes x reader where the reader is Negan's daughter? There could be something maybe where Carl and her meet when he breaks into the sanctuary and she escorts him around with or without Negan maybe?

I don't have the best ideas lol but you can be creative I'd love to see what you can come up with!

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HEART OF GOLD. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x savior!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 4.5K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ enemies to lovers, use of y/n, negan is readers dad, spoilers for twd 7x1 - 7x7, enid and carl arent dating in this universe ofc, lots of rambling and build-up before any romance (sorry guys 🙏) .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you catch feelings for the wrong person. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you for the request anon! i've always wanted to do a savior reader fic so i'm so hyped writing this 🙏 its a bit long...so i hope you enjoyy!! part 2 here!

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you were there the day your dad had lined up the people of alexandria.

you hated what he would do, and what the saviors in general would do. but, unfortunately, you were used to it. you did what you were told and never protested. it's what your life was now.

you were sitting next to your father in the rv you guys had stolen from one of the people in their group.

there was a knock at the door, and your dad stepped out. you followed behind with your hands behind your back and a plain expression on your face.

your expression was regularly blank, the opposite of your fathers. you never had fun with what you and the saviors were doing. you thought it was sick, and it was.

"pissing our pants yet?" negan laughed as he stepped out of the rv. "boy, do i have a feeling were getting close."

you shook your head in response, looking at all the people in the line. they were terrified. besides one boy. he had an eyepatch over his left eye, long brown hair, and a sheriffs hat. he looked around your age, too.

you knew he most likely was scared, but he looked tough.

then, you realized you were staring too long. he looked up at you with a piercing glare, and you quickly looked away. you crossed your arms and sat down on the steps of the rv.

you watched as your father berated and teased the group, pointing lucille in their faces. he walked around the group, taking turns talking to them- or more at them.

he made his way over to the boy. "you got a lot of our guns." negan laughed, tilting his head as he examined the kids face. "shit, kid. lighten up. at least cry a little."

as negan began walking away and to the next person, the kid looked at you again. this time, he tilted his head slightly with a confused expression. you furrowed your eyebrows with a stern expression on your face.

negan began making his way around, and a few minutes had passed before he began his 'eenie, meenie, miney, mo' game. you watched anxiously, your face turning as your heart raced. they might not have been your group, but you would always feel anxious and upset.

you could never understand how the others were always so normal about it.

he landed on a man with ginger hair and a big, tough figure.

"anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, then we'll start."

...

you watched as that man got his head split in half, and then another man afterwards.

your dad had never taken you to one of these runs before. you were aware the things he had done, but you never witnessed it like this before.

your dad had left with rick in the rv and had you stay with ricks group. you watched as everyone processed what had happened. the blood and the bodies on the ground.. the tears.

you crossed your arms as you tried to keep your composure. as much as you were disgusted by negans actions, you knew if you had shown it you would get in trouble.

your father came back a little while after leaving. as he parked, you opened the rv door for your dad.

right as you opened it, your dad and rick exited. ricks eyes were bloodshot, and he was shaking.

"this must be hard for you, right?" negan mocked rick. "i mean, you have been king shit for so long. losin' two of your own like..." he snaps his fingers dramatically, his shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. "gettin' 'em clipped like that, one nut, then the other, and in front of your boy? that is some screwed up shit!"

you crossed your arms and looked up at your father, standing by his side and giving him a knowing look. he looked down at you and laughed before continuing to brutally taunt rick.

after a bit, negan ordered the other saviors to point guns to the back of everybodys heads, telling them to align it to their noses so if they need to fire, it'll be a mess.

you stayed by negans side, as always. you must've looked like a dog compared to your father, always following by his side unless ordered otherwise. you knew your dad was fucked up, but that wouldn't stop you from loving him. people would be surprised of how good of a dad he was capable of being.

"kid.. right here." negan looked into the boys eyes, doing a motion with his hands as a silent order for him to come over. "kid. now."

the kid silently walked over, glaring at both you and negan.

"you a south paw?"

"am i a what?" the kid tilted his head and squinted his eyes at negan, crossing his arms.

"are you left handed?" you clarified blankly.

"no."

"good." negan smiled.

negan tightens his belt around carls upper arm. "that hurt?"

carl looks down at the ground. "no."

"should." negan chuckles in response. "it's supposed to."

"dad, what're you doing?" you whispered to negan, slightly worried for the boy.

"doesn't matter." he looks at you, his expression turned slightly serious. you scoffed and looked back at the boy curiously. "alright. get down on the ground, kid. next to daddy."

the boy complied, laying down on the ground and laying his arms out. negan drew a line on his arm and informed rick that he'd have to cut the kids arm off.

you watched as everyones expressions turned surprised, but specifically one lady who was still in the line on her knees.

"you- you don't have to do this. we understand." the lady begged. "we understand. you understand."

"yeah. i'm not sure that rick does."

"dad." you mumbled, but to no avail. he just ignored you.

"rick. this needs to happen now. chop, chop, or i will crush the little fella's skull myself.

tears fell from ricks eyes as he looked at his son and the ax. "it can- it can be me." he pleaded. "it can be me."

rick and negan continue going back and fourth. tears falling, negan laughing at ricks desperate attempts and pleads to stop this. your face grimaced in disgust of your dads behavior, but your expression quickly changed at the boys words.

"dad.. just do it." he spoke, looking at his dad. "just do it."

rick grabs the ax and begins slowly lowering down, until negan stops him.

"rick."

rick looks up at negan, confusion and tears flooding his face.

"you answer to me. you provide for me. you belong to me. right?"

ricks body continues shaking as he fearfully looks into negans eyes.

"speak when you're spoke to!" negan yelled. "you answer to me. you provide for me."

"provide for you.." rick weakly repeats.

"you belong to me, right?!"

rick breaths heavily, nodding vigorously. "right."

"that is the look i wanted to see." negan smiles, looking down at the beaten up man.

you put your hand on your dads shoulder. "we're done here, dad."

he looks at you and nods, before looking up at dwight. "dwight. load him up." negan points to the man on the ground who had punched negan, and gotten someone killed.

"seriously, dad. let's go."

negan laughs. "today was a productive damn day!" you were always taken aback on how through all of the terrible, repulsive things that your father did, he still had that shit-eating grin along his face. "i hope, for all your sake.. that you get it now. that you understand how things work. things have changed."

he lets out one more loud laugh before speaking again.

"welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!"

...

it had been a few days since that lineup. you could still hear the cries of the people there. the last words of the victims. sure, you had killed people yourself before, but you'd never been apart of something that insane before. all you could think of was the man, rick, and his son. all you could think was that they were strong. you were sure negan was looking at the boy wishing you were more like him. tough, strong.

but not much had changed in the sanctuary since that day, besides the new recruit from the line up, daryl.

you sat in your room, reading a book as you usually did. but then, you heard a few shots. you quickly ran outside, grabbing your gun as you ran out.

you spotted the kid from before, with a large machine gun in hand.

"are you fucking kidding?" you raised an eyebrow, lowering your gun. you weren't phased by the boy. you knew he was aware that negan was your father. if he killed you, he knows there'd be repercussions for him.

"i only want negan." he glared, the gun still pointing toward you.

"put the gun down, dude." you holstered your gun and crossed your arms.

but before he could, dwight tackled him down.

"dwight!" you sternly yelled, running over and pushing him. "i have it under control, thanks."

dwight looks up at you and shakes his head, irritated, standing back up. you put your hand down, offering it to the boy. he awkwardly accepted it.

"he's busy right now, i'm not exactly sure where." you dust your hands off as you speak. "i'll give you a tour, i guess."

you walk inside the building, looking around at everyone working. "what's your name?" you ask, walking around the perimeter.

"why do you want to know?" he glares at you.

you scoff, stopping in your tracks and tilting your head at him. "hey, i'm not my dad. i'm not being an asshole. don't treat me like i am."

his eyes slightly widen at your stern reaction as he nods. "carl."

"i'm y/n." you continue walking around.

carl follows behind you, a bit nervously. "so negan is really your dad?"

"yeah."

he raises an eyebrow, his expression curious. "like, biologically?"

his sudden questions confuse you. "yes, why?"

"well, i don't know if you've noticed, but your dad is a piece of shit."

"i actually have noticed. i've been with him through this whole thing." your voice was angered at his sudden insult towards your father. "he's a better dad than you think."

"that's hard to believe." carl scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"i'm sure it is. i wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, though. i don't agree with what he does at all, but that doesn't change how he is as a parent." an annoyed and slight upset sigh leaves your mouth as you finish your sentence, disappointed by who your father has become.

after a moment of silence, carl continues speaking. "it's weird to think how a man like him could have a child like you."

"what is that supposed to mean?" you shot him a threatening look. he might not have meant it that way, but you were a bit insecure how you were as his child.

"i just mean, you seem nice. it's hard to believe you're a savior, and much harder to believe your related to negan." he defends himself.

you shot him an aggressive glare. "sure."

...

you had been looking around for quite a bit, making small talk with carl every now and then, but it was mostly silence between the two of you.

you didn't fully understand why you were so content with carl. i mean, you didn't know the kid, and you guys didn't necessarily have the best first introduction. he had a gun pointed toward you as well, but you still felt calm around him. why were you feeling this way?

eventually, you made it to one of the rooms. specifically the room with your fathers 'wives.' you knocked on the door before entering.

you spotted your dad and leaned on the door frame. "i brought you something."

"i'm busy right now, y/n, give me a second." negan calmly spoke, which carl could instantly spot was different from how he spoke to all the other saviors.

"yeah, uhm.." you pushed carl into the room. "i kinda cant."

negans expression changed from soft back to his regular 'negan' expression. he whistled, a grin plastered on his face. "damn." he let out an extended laugh, putting his hands on his face. "now, how big of a mess did he make?"

"he killed two people. dwight tackled him. but it wasn't too crazy."

negan nods in response, his gaze turning over to carl. "two men.. and you're giving me the same stink-eye as your dad. except, only half as good. cause... y'know." he signals to his eye, making a mocking face at him. "i'm assuming you already showed him around?"

"yeah, i had to go on a scavenger hunt looking for you." you chuckled, putting your hands in your pockets.

"well, come over here." negan signaled you and carl to come closer, pointing down to the ground next to him. you and carl quickly obey.

"what are you doin' here, kid?" negan tilted his head over into carls direction.

"why do you think?" carl glared at negan and his smartassed tone, his arms crossed.

right after carl said that, daryl stepped into the room with a tray of food in his hands, dwight following right behind him. negan lets out a shortened laugh before pointing to the tray.

"carl, will you grab this tray for me?" negan politely asks, but it still sounds as if he's mocking.

daryl looks from carl back to negan and you, then back to carl. "why do you got him here?"

"woah!" negan puts his hands up defensively with a chuckle, a toothpick from the tray laying between his pointer and middle finger. "what we talk about when you're not here is none of your business." he lifts the toothpick up near carls face. "do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has." you nudge negan in the shoulder, giving him a look to discreetly tell him to stop. he nods at you and turns his head back over to dwight. "dwighty boy... fire up that furnace. we'll be down in a few." he laughs to himself quietly at the irony, "time for a little déjé vu."

dwight and daryl exit the room.

"now, i need to talk to you." negan uses his toothpick to get a piece of food from the tray, looking up at carl. "come on, let's go." negan signals for the two of you to follow.

he leads you guys out of the room and walks a little ways in front of you two. carl looks over to you, walking a bit closer. "are all of those women actually his wives?" carl lowly speaks.

"why are you so persistent on talking to me?" you whisper as well, giving him a bit of a dirty look. not necessarily on purpose, but it got your point across. "you should hate me."

"you're just a kid, too. i know i was skeptical before, but i can tell you're not like.." he tilts his head toward negan. "you've got a heart of gold compared to him."

you stop in your tracks and look at him, clenching your jaw in frustration. "you've gotten yourself into a hell of a situation. i suggest you stop making it worse."

you continue walking, a bit faster so carl trails behind you. negan opens the door in front of you guys, moving his hand to signal for you guys to get in, to which you comply, but let carl go in front of you.

you sit on the bed whilst carl and negan sit on the couch.

you sit and watch as your father talks back and fourth with carl, causing you to zone out a bit. he spoke about wanting to bond with carl, which slightly irked you.

through his laughs, negan speaks. "ah.. i can't. i can't do it. it's like talking to a birthday present."

you tune back in as he says that, curious to what he was talking about this time.

"you got to take that crap off your face." negan signals to the bandages wrapped around the side of carls face. "i wanna see what grandma got me."

"no." carl lowly speaks, slight anger in his tone as his brows knit together.

"two men!" negan yells, standing up from his seat and leaning forward.

"dad, stop it." you softly begged, your expression a bit bleak. you tapped your foot anxiously.

"two. men." negan simply glances over to you, his expression just barely softening. "punishment."

"he's a kid. you can punish him, but don't.. humiliate him."

you didn't know why you had a soft spot for him. or why you called him a kid, despite him being your age. but, you just did. negan lets out a sigh, shaking his head before looking back toward carl.

"you like music?" he asks, which carl simply furrows his brows in confusion to. "i want you to sing me a song."

after a moment of staring and processing, carl softly responds.

"what?"

"you mowed down two of my men, i want something in return for that. sing me a song." negan turns his head over in your direction. "and you, can you go check on the boiler?"

you glance at carl before standing up from the bed. "...alright."

you exit the room and look below the railing. you see someone you don't recognize tied to a chair and a group of people waiting around.

you walk around the perimeter before knocking loudly on the railing to get everyones attention. everybody downstairs looks up and kneels down.

god, you hated these standards you dad had put up for you two. you hated this princess treatment.

you cleared your throat. "is everything ready?" you asked as you began stepping down the stairs to get a better look on the scene.

you saw that the man lined up for the iron this time was mark. you knew him and amber had something going on for a bit now, you didn't think that your dad would have found out however.

"yes, we're ready whenever." one of the saviors informed you calmly, though you could sense they seemed a bit fearful.

you didn't understand why the saviors were scared of you. well, you did, but it didn't make sense when you're the only savior who hadn't been super involved in the killings.

"..okay." you awkwardly pressed your lips together. "i'll go get my dad."

you stepped back up the stairs swiftly, walking back over in the direction of the room you had left your father and carl in, but they were already walking toward you.

"it's all ready." you informed your dad, giving him a moment to step in front of you so you could be back to carls side. he looked a bit shaken up, and you were worried what your dad had done.

the three of you make it back up to the balcony, and negan hits the railing a couple times with lucille to get everyones attention. he hands lucille over. "hold that for me." he says to carl, but you take her before carl has to, shooting him a lopsided smile as you do so.

negan begins giving his speech before the iron. you continue glancing over at carl, whos staring down at the whole scenery going on. negan begins going down the steps, and you two follow with him.

"mark.. i'm sorry. but it is what it is." negan says before signaling for dwight to do the iron.

you look down at your feet, but your gaze turns up to carl. his expression had changed from confused to terrified in seconds.

when it was all over, negan gave the end of his speech before walking abck up to you and carl.

"you probably think im a lunatic." he chuckles, examining carls changed expression. "come on. let's go figure out what to do with you-"

"hey, dad." you cut him off. "i'm just gonna take him back home."

negans eyebrows rose as he looked down. he was silent for a moment before he nodded. he turned his head over in carls direction yet again. "take everything that happened today as a warning. don't pull that shit again."

carl simply just looks away, looking back at you.

"i'll be back soon." you weakly smiled up at your dad. "love you."

"love you too, kiddo."

you walked out of the building, grabbing the car keys on your way out. you got into the car along with carl and began driving off.

it was silent and awkward for a bit, but you couldn't help to ask..

"what did my dad do when i was out of the room?"

carl leaned his arm against the door, using his hand to lift up his head. "he made me sing. and he swung the bat over by the bed while i sung."

you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. "..sorry."

"why? you're one of them, it's what you guys do."

"i don't do that stuff." you clarified yet again.

he turned his head back over to you, squinting a bit in confusion. "you asked me why i was so persistent on talking to you, but i could ask you the same thing. why do you keep defending me and talking to me?"

you anxiously tapped your fingers onto the steering wheel. "because i don't want to end up like my dad."

...

you couldn't sleep that night. all you could think about was carl. it was stupid. you didn't know why you were so entranced by that boy, but just the fact that you were.. falling for an alexandrian, the people you were currently going to war with.. it wasn't looking good for you.

you had only been back home for a little bit, maybe an hour? and still, all you could think about was him.

you had to make things right.

everyone had started to go off to their rooms already, so it'd be pretty easy to sneak out. you knew the perimeters, having been here for a few years, and you knew where all the watch posts were and the blind spots of said watch posts.

you packed regular essentials in a small crossbody bag, grabbed your knife and gun, and headed out. you grabbed one of the motorcycles and your helmet and began dragging it alongside you until you got some place safe on the road where no one could spot you. then, you started speeding over to alexandria.

you were a bit worried that they'd catch you and put you somewhere, or kill you, but what you were feeling was too persistent. no matter what carls reaction was, you'd at least be rid of the feeling.

after a while, you arrived near alexandria. you stopped the motorcycle and thrown it off somewhere safe in the woods so you could walk up to the gates.

unlike the sanctuary, you knew nothing about the perimeters of alexandria. you had only been there when you took carl back, so the front was all you knew. you also knew that approaching the front gates could possibly get you kidnapped or killed, so you weren't exactly sure what to do.

you looked at the watch tower that was to the side of the gate, investigating to see if anyone was up there. and, to your avail, there wasn't anyone.

..now you just needed to figure out how to get past the gate.

since you knew it was safe, you stepped closer and investigated the gate. it looked as if you could climb up the bars that held the walls up and drop down off of it inside of alexandria. so, you did. it was difficult and if anyone had seen you, you probably would have let them kill you for your own good.

you carefully dropped down. it made a loud noise, but you didn't think anyone heard because of it being quite late..

until you heard your name whisper-yelled from the distance by a familiar voice.

you turned around and spotted carl, his eyebrows furrowed and his expression surprisingly not angry, but just confused.

"fuck.. hi." you awkwardly responded, putting your hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

he squinted his eye at you, crossing his arms. "why are you here?"

"i'll tell you in a second, can we go somewhere more private?"

he nods and quickly starts walking back toward what you were assuming was his house. there was already a window open, and he climbed through first, reaching his hand down to help you through.

you step into the room and he pulls out a chair from his desk, sitting down in it and offering for you to sit on his bed. you sit down with a sigh.

"so, why are you here?" his voice is still in a low whisper, but it's loud enough for you to hear. "i mean, if you wanted to do something, you could've done it when you dropped me off. so what's up?"

"yeah, uhm.." you take a deep breath out, messing with your fingers as you continue speaking. "i wanted to talk to you." "you wanted to talk to me?" carl repeats, tilting his head in confusion.

"it's just.. with everything that happened. how we met, what happened earlier at the sanctuary.. i can't stop thinking about you." you cross your arms around yourself in embarrassment, unsure what carls expression is changing to. "i know i shouldn't. but theres just something about you, and i can't exactly put my finger on it. i know it's weird, and we know nothing about each other besides the fact that i'm the daughter of a bad man, but-"

"stop." he scoffs, shaking his head.

you look back up at him nervously, biting your lip.

"..it doesn't matter that your dad was a bad man. you're obviously not." you can tell by his voice and body language changing that he seems slightly nervous as well. "i keep thinking about you, too. you're different from the saviors. you could be safe here, y'know."

"if i stayed here, i'd put you guys in more danger." you give him a lopsided smile, your stomach dropping slightly the more you think about it. "..can i love you?"

carls eyes widen as he processes what you just told him.

"i know it'd be difficult-"

he stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders, moving one up to the side of your face. "i don't care how difficult it is. we'll figure it out together."

before you could respond, he leaned down and quickly kissed you, leaving his forehead on yours, and his hands on your cheeks. you lifted your hands up to his, closing your eyes as you took in the moment.

it was a sort of sorrowful moment. you knew that it wouldn't last forever. you were a savior. your people were trying to kill his, and have killed his. but the fact that you were together now was all you needed. you had to make it work.

you opened your eyes and smiled up at him. "we'll make this work."

"we will. i promise."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[highhhfiveee]

okay here me out. abby teasing reader about having a crush on mike, and when he's around very 'subtle' teasing from abby to reader... SORRY IF THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE BUT ITS BEEN ON MY MIND.

it makes sense! i was working on a little ficlet for the "mint" series and i think this works with it (,:

self care

a "mint" ficlet. read the og here: 🍫

wc: 2k tags: mint!mike and reader, fluff, no warnings, just cute stuff (:

mike lets out a long sigh as he turns the car off, rubbing his hands down his face. security work is exhausting, and while he understands working overnight shifts, he doesn't see how it's healthy.

he's always tired, always irritable, always ready to call it quits and say "fuck work", staying home until he's caught up on his winks.

it would be a dream for him, he thinks, but he knows it's not realistic. he's doing this to better his life, better abby's life; it would all be worth it in the end, he hoped.

he exits the car with no urgency, trotting his way to the front door. he's excited to see you and abby, eager to sit and eat breakfast with you guys, tell you about his night.

he turns the knob and it gives with no trouble, which makes his heart rate tick up. the door is never unlocked.

he bursts inside frantically, beginning to panic a bit when he sees that you aren't in your usual spot on the couch, cuddled into one of the blankets or sweeping your green mint wrappers into your hand. the tv wasn't on. there wasn't anything happening in the kitchen.

it was eerily quiet, too quiet for his liking.

"y/n?" he calls, wildly hanging his security vest and kicking off his shoes. "abby?"

mike wonders why the two of you aren't answering, beginning down the hall with his hands balled into anxious fists. what if something had happened to you two? what if he went into one of the rooms and found something undesirable, something that turned him frigid and reserved? what if someone had hurt you?

the light's on in the bathroom, framing the closed door in a fuzzy ring of yellow gold. mike hears voices, muffled but persistent, and music. it's all it takes for him to lean against the door, grip the doorknob and count down before he charges into the wood, slamming the door open and yelling into the bathroom.

you and abby squeal, bodies wracked with fear. you both have green paste all over your faces, spread around your eyes and mouths in a precise layer. you're holding onto your chest as you try to calm down, tapping on your phone to stop the music you're playing. abby heaves angrily, marching over to mike and giving him a moderately powered shove. "not funny, mike!"

"i wasn't trying to be funny," he utters, huffing along with you two. "i thought someone had broken in or something. the door was unlocked and i called for both of you but you didn't answer. i was terrified." you frown, shaking your head in disappointment at yourself.

"i'm really sorry, mike. i took the trash out earlier and i guess i forgot to lock the door when i came back in. i would never try to put abby in harm's way."

"no, no, it's okay," mike returns, taking a deep-rooted sigh of relief now that he knows you two are safe. "i know you wouldn't. mistakes happen, i just lost it a little. wouldn't want anything to ever happen to you two."

your cheeks heat up at "you two". you're flattered that he cares about your safety at the same level that he cares about abby's, or at all really. you knew that abby meant everything to him, but you wondered just how much you meant to him, exactly.

"that's totally understandable. sorry i didn't hear you calling either, we were kind of caught up in the music and face masks," you chuckle shyly, pulling the sleeves of the forest green sweatshirt you were wearing over your hands. it's mike's sweatshirt, one that he thinks he remembers giving to abby sometime ago. you look good in it.

"y/n was teaching me about 'self care', and how doing little things for myself is important. we started with skincare, see?" abby places her hands under her chin, using them to hold her face as she smiles.

it hadn't been your plan to use your $40 face mask on abby this morning, but you didn't mind. you'd been in the bathroom, humming along to the soothing ambient music that floated from your phone speakers and smothering your face in green like you'd be starring in Wicked when she appeared in the doorframe, bleary eyed and lethargic. "may i pee?"

you exited the bathroom and closed the door behind you, opening it back up once you heard the toilet flush and the faucet run. "what's on your face?" she asked, shaking the water off of her hands.

"it's a face mask. this one is my personal favorite. it's specifically for moisturizing the skin, but there are so many other ones that do different things. i do them sometimes as a part of self care."

"what's self care?"

"i can explain it to you. want to try some of the mask after you brush your teeth?" she nodded happily, beginning to shed any trace of sleepiness.

"my skin is a bit dry." you laughed at her, helping her with her toothbrush. after, you'd sat her on the bathroom counter, scooping product with your middle and ring fingers and smearing it across abby's delicate skin.

"so, it's just like...taking care of yourself? literal self care?" you nodded, filling in whatever gaps you could find.

"mhm. just doing small things to make yourself feel better, happy, more fulfilled. we all need to take care of ourselves, living these lives. it's important to remember to take time for yourself when you need it, okay? taking breaks is good. humans need rest."

"mike never rests," she admitted, pouting at the thought of mike working all the time, tired and distant from the strain on his mental and physical health. "i don't even think he knows what rest is."

"i'm sure he does, he's just working hard to make sure you're never in need. he cares about you a lot, and wants you to be safe, and happy, and taken care of."

"which is nice," abby muttered, turning to look at her face in the mirror. she smiled, humming in contentment before facing you again. "i just wish he would go do something. take off from work and go out. go on a date." you jovially scoff at her words, tickling at her abdomen.

"what do you know about dating, huh? does mike even like dates?"

"i think he'd like a date with you." your entire body flushed with mortification, and you stepped back from abby, stumbling over your words with nervous laughter.

"t-t-there's no way he would, abby. that's silly. i don't even like him like that, it would be unprofessional..." you bit at your bottom lip, avoiding abby's eyes.

"oh please. you're my unpaid babysitter, not a salaried nanny," she reassured curtly, and you frowned at her, playfully insulted. "plus, i know you have a crush on him, y/n. it's so obvious. i saw you nearly die when he gave you those mints. i'm sure he see stuff like that too if he wasn't so clueless about everything."

you nodded, gnawing at your bottom lip so hard you drew blood. "well, jeez, thank you for the exposé, abby. still, i don't think he feels the same way. he has no time to think about me." abby only squinted at you, her lips pursed with amusement.

"or so you think." you'd waved her off, pivoting the subject by showing her your skincare collection, explaining all the different tubes and bottles. you'd fanned them out over the counter, grouping things by step.

"and this is vitamin c...usually comes before your moisturizer and helps with dark spots, dullness...you have to wear sunscreen when you wear it, but you should be wearing sunscreen everyday anyway bec----"

mike had burst in at this moment, scaring the shit out of both you and abby. how you'd forgotten to lock the door, you didn't know, but you're glad mike had gotten home before anyone else could enter.

now, mike just tiredly returns his sister's smile. "that's nice, abs."

"yeah, was telling y/n that you should try it. you need to rest and take care of yourself." mike nods, pursing his lips in that tickled way that abby did earlier.

"that so? do a couple of face masks, take a bath, and make some tea to renew myself?"

"sounds like a plan to me," abby cheers, looking towards you. "add going on a date to the list and now, we're talkin'."

"a date?" mike ridicules, shaking his head at abby's frivolous suggestion. "a date with who?"

"i may know someone," abby teases, winking over at you so unmistakably that you're sure you're going to combust with the number of times you've flushed hot. "someone not too far, in fact."

mike can tell that abby is killing you, prodding at your private, adult feelings and decides to make her stop. "okay, abs, that's enough. wash your face while i go talk to y/n, okay? and no eavesdropping."

"i can try, but not promise."

"abby," mike asserts, and she shrinks under his serious stare, mumbling, "okay, okay, jeez."

you follow mike out into the living room, once again tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. it drapes over you nicely, about one size too big, and the color looks so nice against your skin, rich and earthy.

"thanks for looking after her, as always," he commends, eyes still trained on you as you return his kindness with a soft "yeah, always. sorry again about the door." but mike dismisses your apology with a wave.

after a moment, he says, "that sweatshirt's nice," rubbing his fingers against his stubbled chin.

you drop your gaze down, smiling at the clothing item. you liked it a lot. it was super comfy and smelled like their place, pacifying you through the late night and early morning. "oh thanks. i left my sweater at home and abby let me borrow this one. it's so cute on her but it's super big."

"yeah," mike snickers, letting out some air through his nose. "that's 'cause it's mine." your body's color is replaced with flaming red, burning from the top of your forehead to the soles of your feet. how many more times could you be embarrassed this morning?

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. here, i can give it back," you panic, beginning to pull the item over your head, careful to not get your face mask on it. mike stops you with a hand to your elbow, a gentle graze that doesn't move even when you have the sweatshirt back over your torso.

"hey, hey, no need. i gave it to her but i like how it looks on you. you look really beautiful...face mask and all." you blush vehemently, whimpering out "thank you" and bringing your thumb to your mouth to gnaw at so you don't say something else you might regret. you're sure mike can read your jitteriness, and you try to slip into a cool girl attitude when his eyes toss coyness your way.

you'd been babysitting abby for a while, and something about the way you continued to despite the hours and not being paid softened mike. of course he intended on paying you, but even when he did, he would always remember you as so kind, so generous; such a beautiful soul in a beautiful body.

"so...about that date?" he proposes, and the two of you hear a hushed, "yes!" around the corner of the wall. you both turn towards it, catching abby as she runs across the hall to her room.

"abby!"

"i said try!"

how flipping CUTE! i love cute shit like this, and after writing so much smut, it was nice to write something oh so sweet (((: gonna be posting smut next though lmao, just something slight, something slight. hope you enjoyed!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤

Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER

Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.

Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap

Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this

You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.

“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.

“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”

“None of your business.”

His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?

“I’m not from here”, he added.

“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”

Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.

His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.  

Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.

“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.

Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?

“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.

“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?

Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.

Even though you might be dead by now.

“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.

Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.

“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”

“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”

“But you will return when you’re done, right?”

The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.

His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”

You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.

You started to like him.

“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”

And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.

Until the rumbling started.

Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.

It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.

“Did I receive any letters from her?”

“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”

He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.   

He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.

“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”

The best…

“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.

Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.

Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),

How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!

I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.

In love,

(y/n)

That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.

You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.

“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”

“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.

The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.

“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.

All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.

“Hey, can I get another one?”

“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”

That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.

But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…

A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.

“Levi?”

His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.

No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?

“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”

His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.

“(y/n)”

He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.

That dark green dress.

Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.

“Levi!”, you cry out.

In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.

“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were dead.”

His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.

You are alive.

“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”

Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.

But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.

“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.

“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.

“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.

You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.

“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.

You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.

“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.

You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.

This is all he ever wanted.

“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.

And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.  

[daddy-deathslinger]

Oooh, I really liked that killers with a S/O who has a particular perk! May I ask for a reader whose perk is to be able to hide very well/slip away easely? As in, they are quite small and so they can crouch and slip through spaces other survivors can't to go unnotinced! Maybe the killer in question struggles to hook them because they keep slipping from his grasp, but reader never mocks him or anything and just runs away until the end of the trial where they leave an item behind as an apology (Hillbilly, Cannibal, Oni and Deathslinger, if it's not too much trouble! If they are too many, feel free to choose whichever!) Thank youuu 🩷

Hi there! What a lovely request, I hope yer happy with what I came up with! <3

The Hillbilly/Max Thompson Jr with a slippery survivor

Max is good at hunting his prey, and he usually finds them quite easily.

But there’s always one person he struggles to catch. You.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten you cornered, you slip away somewhere. It’s really frustrating! How can you find that many cracks and nooks to sneak off into? 

And his chainsaw can’t do shit once you’re out of sight again. Sure, he can saw through the wooden walls and search for you, but you’re never there.

It’s as if you disappear from the face of the earth.

One time, after a trial had ended and you, as the last survivor left, had probably escaped through the hatch, he had found something. He was going back into his house when he saw something in the mud of the cornfield. 

A necklace. Shiny, must have been made of real gold.

Max had picked it up and examined it, a smile slowly growing on his lips. He knew you wore this kind of necklace, you must have either dropped it or left it here for him to find.

And his heart pointed towards the latter.

The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer with a slippery survivor

Bubba isn’t the best tracker (it must be hard to see anything through that mask of his), but once he finds someone they won’t get away.

Except you, you always manage to get away somehow.

Be it a dark nook you can slip into, a hole that is perfectly shaped for you, or you simply just wiggle out of his grasp just as he’s about to put you on a hook.

You’re usually gone in seconds, he never has a chance to find you again.

This pains him greatly, you know that. He shrieks and yells in annoyance and anger, waving his chainsaw around in the air when he can’t find you anymore.

It almost makes you feel a bit bad.

A bit, only a bit. Enough to make you want to make it up to him somehow.

Not through sacrificing yourself though, gods no! But sometimes you leave behind small gifts for him to find.

It can be anything, really. A nice can you found in the cornfields, a bracelet that was buried in the mud. One time, you left a doll inside the house in the cornfields, knowing he would find it there after the trial.

You can only hope your little gestures are appreciated.

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka with a slippery survivor

Kazan is a great tracker. Always has been.

He can smell blood a mile away, and see it as clear as red, shimmering pearls on the ground.

Naturally, prey have a hard time hiding from him once he has injured them.

And yet, there’s one he just can’t seem to ever catch.

This prey just vanishes from his sight the second he has injured them. It’s like they don’t even bleed! Sure, he can find trails of blood here and there, but it never leads him anywhere.

It drives him mad! If you’re in a trial these days, he’s almost certain he’s gonna leave with only three kills. You always seem to find the hatch as well, so.

Sometimes, Kazan finds things.

Things in places it’s never occurred to him to look before, but when he does he always finds a surprise.

It can be a hair tie, or even something of great worth, like a ring or earring. 

Once he found a little crocheted doll, with black buttons for eyes.

He doesn’t know where these things appear from, but something tells him they appear from the same source that so easily disappears. And that thought is a bit amusing to him, it almost brings a smile to his lips at times.

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn with a slippery survivor

Caleb is a proud man, that much you know.

He hates losing, and losing is exactly what he does these days whenever you’re in a trial.

His swearing can be almost amusing at times, when you peek out from a hiding place and see him frantically search for you. He never finds you, and eventually gives up.

You’ve lost count of all the times you’ve gotten the hatch.

All that being said, you make sure to never taunt him. 

You don’t want to rub it in his face, he’s only doing his job here. And so are you. It’s nothing personal.

During the last trial, you had decided to try something a bit different. You had been tinkering on things at the campfire for a while, your latest project was carving a butter knife out of a piece of wood.

It wasn’t particularly pretty, but you liked it.

You had decided to leave it behind for Caleb to find, as a little gift for all his troubles catching you. 

So, you had left it inside the Dead Dawg Saloon, at the bar. Then, you had hid.

When the rest of the gang had escaped, and Caleb eventually got back to the saloon with heavy steps, he had found it.

You had watched as he had taken the butter knife in his hand, weighed it (why would you weigh a butter knife??) and examined it. 

You will never forget the smile on his lips, as he had whispered: “What in the goddamn…” and put the knife in his jacket pocket before leaving.

[himbofan]

bungo stray dogs - meet cutes

hey guyzzz soooo here's my one piece of writing for the next 10 months 😛🩷

jk but fr it's hard for me to write anything consistently so thank you for bearing with me!!!! :3

i always appreciate all forms of support!! I’ve been having bsd brainworms for a couple months now so expect more ramblings at some point ok thx for reading BYEEEEEEEE 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

cw: gn reader, mention of cigarettes, reader has a cat, light stalking

characters: nakahara chuuya, fukuzawa yukichi, oda sakunosuke wc: 2600+

you’re the cute cashier who works the graveyard shift at my local convenience store and i'm always awake at odd hours - nakahara chuuya

Chuuya stifled a yawn and wearily checked his phone. The numbers [3:27 AM] glared back at him with an irritating brightness, almost mocking him for staying up so late. He sighed and pocketed his phone, glancing up at the sky which was still a deep indigo, the stars barely visible from the copious amounts of light pollution. 

He grumbled something illegible under his breath and pushed open the door to the nearest convenience store. The door jingled lightly, the smell of nondescript floor cleaner invading his nostrils as he stepped into the cramped space. 

“Welcome…” you called out wearily from the register, though you couldn’t see who just walked in due to the height of the shelves blocking your view. 

He barely acknowledged your existence at the opposite side of the store, instead choosing to browse the shelves.

He eventually made his way to the register, dropping a bottle of water on the counter before finally looking up at you. 

“And I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Golds.”

You glanced at him quickly while scanning the water and box of cigarettes, trying to take in as much of his appearance as possible without looking creepy. 

You hadn’t seen him before since starting this job a week ago, and he certainly was a sight for sore eyes. 

His hair was a fiery orange that fell in slight waves over his shoulder, with piercing eyes that made your heart skip a beat. 

You silently punched in your employee discount as he pulled out his wallet. Though it was only 10% off, he looked like he’d been from hell and back, and you felt strangely empathetic towards this stranger, wanting to make his night a little easier in the only way you could without getting in trouble. 

You finished the transaction and handed him the receipt, finally mustering the courage to look at his face again. To your surprise, he was looking directly at you this time, his eyes narrowed as he studied you. 

You quickly averted your gaze and hastily bowed, babbling out a customary “Thank you, come again”. 

As he left the building, he quickly scanned the receipt. His eyebrows raised a little as he saw the discount. Of course he would never need it with his cushy salary, but you had no way of knowing that. You simply saw him as a tired man who had a rough day, extending kindness the only way you knew how. The thought of a stranger showing him pity made his brow furrow, but he couldn’t deny how his heart squeezed when he remembered those kind eyes.

—

The next night, you were back behind the register, eyes glazing over while you stared aimlessly at the wall. The door jingled and you snapped to attention. 

“Welcome!”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the same handsome man from yesterday walk in. You fidgeted with your hair and nails trying to look more presentable under the unflattering fluorescent lights. 

He made his rounds and eventually came to the counter again, dropping his choices on the counter. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You gaped like a fish and internally panicked, mind racing trying to find where you had gone wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean…”

“The discount. I don’t need it.”

“Oh my apologies, you just looked like you were having a rough day and I wanted to try and make it a little better…I didn’t mean to insult you…” you rambled. You couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face, cheeks and ears heating up rapidly as you felt yourself pinned under his strong gaze. 

He sighed, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. I don’t need your charity.” 

‘…or for you to get in trouble trying to help me.’

You wanted to curl up and die right there, but instead you scanned his items and stuffed them in a bag, staring down at the white countertop and praying for the minutes to go faster so you could go home and scream.

Noticing your discomfort, Chuuya sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He finished the transaction and muttered a small “thank you” before dropping a small piece of paper on the counter. He immediately whirled around and headed out the door so you couldn’t see the slight blush tingeing his face and ears.

I’ll pay you back. Here’s my number.

 xxx-xxx-xxxx

You looked up in surprise but he was already out the door, the jingle of the doorbells signaling his departure. You smiled and blushed lightly, the fatigue from your long shift briefly alleviated as butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of the handsome stranger. 

“Ah… I didn’t even get his name…”

you’re the owner of the cat i’ve been feeding because i thought it was a stray - fukuzawa yukichi

It was a relatively quiet day, the weather was nice and the streets were slightly less busy than usual. Fukuzawa closed his eyes and let the warm rays of sun seep into his tired skin, silently basking after a long day of being chained to his desk. 

His meditation was broken as a striped tail curled around his leg. Much to his delight, a friendly looking cat chirped and rubbed its face affectionately on his legs. His eyes softened as he reached down to let the cat sniff his hand, then softly pet its head. 

He swiftly took a small dried fish out of his sleeve and offered it, to which the cat excitedly accepted, purring up a storm as it crunched hungrily on the treat. His shoulders dropped slightly, stress and tension slowly melting away as he continued to admire the furry creature. 

The cat writhed on the ground, soaking up every ounce of attention from him as he continued to gently pet its fur. As if compelled by an unknown force, the cat suddenly shot its head up and glanced around, before running off into the bushes. Fukuzawa looked around for what could’ve possibly scared the cat away, but saw nothing. Slightly disappointed, he stood and returned to the office.

The next couple of days it came back as friendly as ever, and with an even more ravenous appetite for treats. Of course Fukuzawa was happy to oblige, showering the cat with affection and treats every time. 

“You have quite an appetite for such a small cat, don’t eat too many treats now.” he murmured, his stoic face unchanging yet there was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

“There you are! You greedy little shit!!”

His respite was broken as an angry voice yelled out from across the courtyard. The cat seemed to instantly recognize the voice and immediately ducked behind Fukuzawa’s legs. 

You jogged up to him, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the man who your cat was using as a shield. He had a commanding presence, with sharp blue eyes and silvery wolf cut. Your eyes locked for a split second and your heart jumped, this dignified-looking man was certainly easy on the eyes to say the least. Clearing your throat and brushing stray hairs out of your face, you awkwardly waved. 

“Hi, that cat belongs to me. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble.” 

You smiled at him but glared daggers at your cat, who simply looked back at you. Though somehow, you could feel a smug aura radiating from it.

He looked down at the cat then back to you with a very slightly amused expression.

“No, she wasn’t bothering me. She’s quite sweet.” 

His voice rolled out deep and smooth, matching his serious appearance. He extended his hand down and your cat happily rubbed her face on it, purring up a storm.

“She really likes people, but that’s because she really, really likes food.”

You sighed and squatted down to attempt to grab your cat, but she ducked further behind the fold of the man’s yukata. You frowned and huffed but didn’t move any further, lest you’d be kneeling between this stranger’s legs. Fukuzawa noticed your discomfort and scooped up the cat in his arms, handing her off to you. You gratefully lifted your cat, accidentally brushing his large hand in the process which sent a small jolt of adrenaline through your body. 

“She’s not supposed to be outside but somehow she always manages to slip out. I feed her regularly but it doesn’t matter, she’s insatiable.”

Knowing the jig was up, your cat meowed in protest and squirmed in your arms.

“I mean how am I supposed to feel when my cat is going up to strangers and begging like she’s starving? She’s making me look like a neglectful owner to the whole damn city!”

You continued to ramble, before realizing you were venting your frustrations on this poor random man. 

He looked at you, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“She looks healthy and happy, it’s obvious someone loves her very much.” 

You felt your face heat up as he reassured you, wholly unprepared for the praise from this stern-looking yet attractive older man. 

“Ah… well thank you very much for taking care of my cat.” You bowed politely. “Please let me pay you back somehow.”

He shook his head gently and tucked his arms in his sleeves. “No need, it was no trouble at all.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help you out in return, I insist.”

You rummaged hastily through your bag and retrieved a pen and a crumpled receipt, scribbling down your number and name before handing it to him. 

You were telling half of the truth; you really did want to pay him back, but you also wanted an excuse to see this hot man again.

“Ugh, I have to go, but please don’t hesitate to reach out. Again, thank you so much for taking care of her.” You bowed one more time before speed-walking down the street, indignant meows fading as you turned the corner.

Fukuzawa looked at the small piece of paper in his hand, tucking it in his sleeve as the faintest of smiles graced his face for a second. 

‘...cute…’

you ask me for help to pretend to be your boyfriend to scare off a creep - oda sakunosuke

You glance over your shoulder warily while pulling your jacket tighter over your midsection, walking faster down the street. To your demise, the shady looking man that started following you a few blocks ago continued to tail you despite taking several twists and turns to try and throw him off. Cursing under your breath, you opened the door to the nearest establishment and quickly ducked in hoping to find a place you could stake it out until he left.

You’d never been to this bar before despite passing it multiple times on your way home, but it was much nicer than expected. The narrow stairs opened up into a cozy bar, moody lighting glinting off of the polished wooden stools. The only patron was a rather tall man with reddish hair, sitting quietly sipping on his drink. 

Although he was a complete stranger, you felt as if this man was trustworthy. He exuded an aura of peace and safety that you desperately needed at this moment. 

Sheepishly you sat down next to him. He looked down at you curiously, about to ask why you chose to sit next to him when the whole bar was available, when the door opened again and the man who had been following you stumbled in. Your heart dropped and you turned to the stranger next to you, whispering rapidly with a pleading expression. 

“Hey so there’s a creepy guy following me, could you pretend to be my boyfriend? I’ll buy you a drink as thanks.”

Before he could respond, you faked a hearty laugh as though you just told a hilarious joke and put your hand on his arm flirtatiously, hoping that the creepy man was watching. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you continued to smile and look at your fake boyfriend. Getting a better look at his face, you noticed that he was actually quite good looking. He had a slight amount of stubble on his jaw, but the rest of him was well groomed. His eyes were a gorgeous crystal-clear sapphire blue that gazed down at you stoically. You were close enough to smell his light cologne, it was just enough to be noticeable but not overbearing. Your fingertips felt searing where they touched his arm, and you prayed he couldn’t tell how hard your heart was beating. 

He glanced up at the man brooding in the corner, silently sizing him up with a stony face.

Even though he hadn’t spoken a word, his sheer size and intense stare sent a strong enough warning that the other man froze under his gaze. 

Your stalker stared at the two of you and muttered something under his breath, before heading back up the stairs and exiting the bar. 

Once you were sure the door had closed behind him, you breathed a sigh of relief and removed your hand from his arm. “Hey sorry for putting you on the spot like that, I really appreciate it, let me get you a drink.”

“It’s nothing, I don’t mind.” His voice was deep and rumbled like a thunderstorm, and it was very attractive.

“No please, I insist. Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself.” You bashfully offered your name and bowed slightly. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Oda. It’s getting pretty late anyways, I was going to head out. Do you need someone to walk you home?”

You smiled and nodded. “I would appreciate that, thank you so much.”

The walk home was a little awkward but not uncomfortable. Most of your attempts at small talk were met with brief responses that were followed by a long pause. You assumed he wasn’t much for conversation, but you detected no malice or annoyance in his voice. 

Eventually, you reached the end of your commute. Although you were relieved you made it home safely, you were a little disappointed that your impromptu date with this attractive stranger was coming to an end.

“Oh this is it, thank you so much again for helping me out…. oh right!” You dug out your phone from your bag, opened a new contact, and sheepishly handed it to him. 

“I know you said I didn’t have to pay you back but I really want to.” 

He took the phone and punched in his number along with the name ‘Oda’ before handing it back to you. 

“Thank you again! Have a good night!” You smiled brightly and waved at him from the entrance of your apartment complex, heart still pounding. 

He offered a simple wave in return, making sure you closed and locked the door before continuing on his way. He couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of your smile for the rest of the night. 

dividers credit @/cafekitsune

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hello! Hope you’re well. I’d like to put in a request for King Baldwin x reader where they were put into an arranged marriage and reader is very shy and the two haven’t had the time to spend time together and get to know each other at all. One day Baldwin invites her to his room and teaches her how to play chess while getting to know each other.

♡ Arranged Marriage - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for this beautiful request. I had fun writing this, it is a very sweet idea. I hope it is what you had in mind. As always, this is about the King Baldwin from the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgure. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

The evening of the wedding was fast approaching. With each day it drew closer, y/n became more and more nervous. She did not even know the name of the man she was to be wed to. She knew that he was the king of Jerusalem, but Jerusalem was a very distant place from where she had lived her entire life. She had never before seen the Holy land and she never believed she would.

It was her father who arranged the marriage with the king's mother. It was the price she paid for being the daughter of a rich lord. She wondered if her soon to be husband was as nervous as she, was but she came to the conclusion that he was more likely to just want this to be over and done with.

But this was not the case. Baldwin was equally as nervous to meet his soon to be wife, but with more of a feeling of enthusiasm than fear. He was looking forward to the day of the wedding and enjoyed making the arrangements greatly.

At the age of 22 he had never in his life even felt the touch woman, aside from his mother and sister, and even then it was not the warm, loving touch of a wife that he so craved.

However, he did have some doubts on her willingness to be with a leper. He had overheard some servants speaking about how “she must be out of her mind to marry a man with such a disease”. This thought was the only thing troubling him about the affair. He knew he did not have much time left in his life and if this marriage worked out as he had hoped, he would be leaving behind his lovely wife all too soon. 

On the day of the wedding, y/n and her father, accompanied by the guests, arrived to the city of Jerusalem bright and early to begin the preparations. Y/n felt sick with worry. A thousand questions ran through her mind. “What if he doesn't like me?”, “what if i am unable to bare him a rightful air to the throne?”, "what if I accadently offend him?".

She barely spoke all day. Simply hiding behind her veil to avoid interaction. When the hour of the wedding came, Baldwin was as nervous as he was excited. He was finding it difficult to contain his delight and was grateful for the iron mask that concealed his constant smile.

Y/n on the other hand was terrified. Her hands were shaking and sweat had begun to form on her brow. She quickly reached under her veil with a cloth to wipe her face. She needed to relax, but she couldn't. 

It was time. The guests entered the church and the wedding began. As y/n approached the altar, her vision was so blurry that she could barely see her new husband. But as she got closer, she could make out his features a bit more. He wore white robes with gold trimming, and he appeared to be wearing a mask? One of his hands was bandaged and the other was in a glove.

She had been warned of his leprosy but never saw an issue in his possible appearance, nor contracting the disease. More that they may not have many years together, so where would she end up when he was gone? She pushed this out of her mind and continued walking. She avoided eye contact with him as the officials proceeded, and before she even knew it, it was over. 

By the end of the proceedings, Baldwin himself was exhausted. The long period of standing had been very hard on his body, but he wanted to meet with his new wife desperately.

She was so beautiful. Seeing her at the wedding took his breath away more than he thought it would. He could never have imagined that someone so gorgeous could agree to marry him. She looked like an angel. He longed to see her. Hear her speak, learn all there was to learn about her.

But he was far too tired. He cursed his frail body for being so weak. Once his physicians had finished their work, changing his bandages and cleaning his wounds, he climbed into his bed slowly. He removed his mask, finally being able to breathe somewhat clearly.

Closing his eyes, all he could see was her beautiful face. It warmed his heart knowing that she was in the same building as him and that tomorrow, he could finally see her. He fell asleep quickly that night.

Y/n however, was far less relaxed than he was. Her nerves had been calmed from the conclusion of the ceremonies, but they pricked back up again when she realized that tomorrow, she would need to speak with him. Perhaps she could avoid it? Tell the servants that she had fallen ill and would not be in a fit state to meet with the king for fear of getting him sicker than he already was? That would set her back a few days at least and give her time to prepare.

She decided that it would be the best action to take to prevent her from embarrassing herself. She had always been a shy person when around people she was not well acquainted with. She hoped that this anxiety would fade the more time she spent with her new husband. But for now, she would inform the servants that she had fallen ill. She hoped he would not become angry with her for this.

-----------------

The following day, Baldwin received the news that y/n would not be meeting with him due to illness. He was disappointed, yes. But angry? Not at all.

At first, he worried about her health and prayed that she would make a full recovery, but as the day wore on he became even more worried that she was fabricating an excuse  to not see him. This saddened him greatly. He began to doubt that she would in fact stay with someone as grotesque as him. Perhaps he had done something wrong? Maybe she was afraid of contracting leprosy?

He spent the entire day in his chambers thinking about this. It was evening when he finally decided to write her a letter. If she couldn't see him, then maybe they could exchange letters until she was healed?

The young king sat down at his desk, quill in hand, but he could not think of what to say. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was and how much he was looking forward to spending his days with her, but he did not want to come across as too excited. He thought best to keep it simple, but he couldn't. Because she was not simple. She was as beautiful as the summer sky, he could not just exchange simple greetings with her. He needed to cherish her right away. 

Finally, he found the words. He invited her to his chambers for a game of chess when she was well enough to do so. He apologized for not being able to see her after the wedding due to his exhaustion. And finally, he told her how blessed he felt to have someone like her as his wife. He requested that the letter be given to her right away so that she saw it as soon as possible.

When y/n received the letter, a feeling of relief and guilt washed over her. She was relieved that he was not angry with her and was in fact was looking forward to seeing her. This however made her feel even worse for lying about the reason she could not to speak with him.

She decided the following day that she would see him, no matter what.

-----------------

The next day, y/n did infact feel sick. Truely this time. But not sick from an illness, sick from worry. She was so nervous, nothing could relax her. She had been given directions by a few servant women who had come by in the morning to check on her.

She followed the directions she had been told until she reached the large wooden doors. Y/n took a few seconds to collect herself and attempt to steady her breathing before she extended a trembling hand to knock. She waited a few seconds and was fully prepared to turn around and leave before a voice inside called for her to come in. 

Y/n took another deep breath and pushed open the door, just enough for her to slip through and shut it behind her quickly. Inside the room was a desk, a large bookshelf, a couch and a large open door that led out to a balcony.

The king sat at the desk but immediately got to his feet when she entered the room. Y/n bowed her head “good morning your majesty” she said in a small voice, just like she practiced.

“Good morning my queen” he replied, approaching her slowly. Y/n was taken aback by just how attractive he really was. She had not gotten the chance to look at him properly while at the wedding, but he was beautiful. Even though she could not see his face on account of the mask, his bright blue eyes were enough to steal her attention quickly. He wore white robes, less extravagant than the ones he wore yesterday but still as lovely. The veil that he wore to conceal his head framed his masked face just right. She was lost for words.

“I apologize for my absence yesterday” y/n finally managed to say. “It's quite alright, we have the entire day to make up for lost time” he said cheerfully. “I have been looking forward to this day for many months now. You are even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined y/n” he was now only feet from her.

A small smile formed on her face and she looked down to avoid him seeing her blush like a teenage girl with a crush. That's what she felt like at that moment. He extended his good hand, covered with a white glove, and put it against her cheek, tilting her head up to look at her. His kind, blue eyes met hers. "There is no need to be shy my queen. I am yours, just as you are mine"

Y/n chuckled softly, her anxieties melting away. “Yes, I suppose you are right,” she replied. Baldwin took his hand from her cheek and reached for her hand, taking it in his. “Shall we play that game of chess I promised?” he offered. “I would love to, but i've never played before” she chuckled nervously.

“That's just fine, i will teach you”

“That sounds lovely” y/n replied, eyes never once leaving his.

------------------

The two spent the entire day together, playing chess and getting to know each other. By the end of the day, the young king was completely in love. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and kind as well. So kind. Y/n loved him also. All of her concerns faded and she was left with nothing more than the desire to be with this man forever. 

As the sun got low in the sky, the two were growing tired. They had enjoyed a lovely dinner together on the royal balcony and were now sitting on the couch in Baldwin's bedroom chambers, talking about all manner of things.

The king was deep in explaining his family lineage when he paused to cover a soft yawn behind his masked face. “Oh i'm so sorry your majesty, i must be keeping you awake” y/n said, placing a hand on his arm. “I can leave if you would like?” she added. “Oh no I am quite alright. Just a bit tired, I was actually meaning to ask you if you would like to stay in my chambers for the night?-” Baldwin immediately regretted what he said. He did not want to come across too pushy, but he had just put out a massive question that he was unsure of how she would answer. "If you would prefer not to its quite alright, i understand-” Baldwin added quickly, but y/n cut him off. “I would love to” she said with a smile. Relief washed over him instantly and he released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

After getting changed from their day clothes, the two got into the kings large bed. Now it was Baldwin's turn to be nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone before, much less a woman. Y/n noticed this immediately. She laid down on her back and extended an arm out, gesturing for him to come closer. He smiled behind the mask and moved closer, resting his head on her soft chest. She wrapped an arm around his back, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. She was so warm and geltle. It was the feeling he had craved his whole life, and now, it was happening. He felt as if he could fall asleep right there and then, wrapped up in her arms. “Are you going to sleep with that mask on?” y/n said quietly, breaking the silence. Baldwin sighed. “I just don't want to startle you with my appearance” he sounded so sad. Her heart broke for him. “I know you are beautiful, my sweet husband. Your face will not bother me. I promise” 

“Are you sure?” he replied, sitting up slightly to look at her.

“Yes my love”

He sighed again, hesitating before reaching up to the corners of the mask and sliding it from his face. His face was disfigured, yes, but ugly? Not at all. 

Y/n smiled softly. She sat up and reached a hand out to stroke his cheek gently, just like he had done to her upon their first meeting. “You see? You are still my beautiful husband. Nothing will change that. As you said, I am yours as much as you are mine”.

The king felt tears sting his eyes, he turned to place his mask on the nightstand and put out the candle. He then turned over again and cuddled against her warm chest. “Thank you. I love you, y/n” he murmured. A small smile crossed her face. “I love you too, Baldwin".

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

I headcannon that humans usually get to choose where the marks go when they make a pact, but MC didn't care so they just let the brothers choose. This is purely for fun, feel free not to read it or take it too seriously.

Mammon went for the back of their right hand. For one, it's a safe option and he felt kind of awkward choosing the place for his own pact mark.

Later, it turned out to be perfect. He's their right-hand demon, always within arm's reach. Anywhere they go together, he holds that hand, and whenever MC meets someone new, they shake hands, that person knows right away that they're his human, and he's their demon.

Leviathan followed the same logic at first, and put his on their left forearm, just under their elbow, because where else would he put it?! He's never picked a pact mark before!

In the end, he likes it because it's not always on display, or always hidden. MC shows it off just enough to assure him that they're proud to have a pact with him, and hides it enough so he's not overwhelmed with the reality that he is theirs, and they are his.

When they dress up, they make sure not to cover their arms, and wear his mark with pride, but it's the quiet moments in his room, when they roll up their sleeve and let him trace the mark with his fingers, or trace it with his tail, that he really likes.

Beelzebub had trouble with picking his place. He's never made a pact before, let alone picked where it's been displayed.

He had no real reason for choosing their right shoulder blade, other than a feeling that that's where it needed to be. MC knows though, it's because of his twin. They knew where Belphie's pact mark would go, directly on their other shoulder.

Twin demons, guarding their human's back.

Asmodeus was a cheeky menace, as soon as he was given the choice, he smacked the mark right on MC's inner thigh. He thought it might fluster the little human, but as it turned out, MC is long past the point of flustering.

That choice turned out to be to Asmo's detriment as MC strategically chose how they displayed it. Hot day? They're wearing shorts and his mark is on clear display, sitting nestled on their soft skin, where no one, not even he can touch.

MC's learned to tug at that mark every now and again, granting him the most delicious teasing grin.

The devildom's greatest tease has met his match.

Satan's choice was a hard one, by the time he agreed to a pact, truly chose MC for a pact, he knew they were going to be someone he cared for deeply.

It took him days to decide where that mark would sit, MC never rushed him, or offered to make the choice for him. That patience was something he admired in someone he knows to have a firecracker of a temper.

In the end, he placed the mark on their collarbone, just above where their heartbeat thrums with life.

He wants them to remember that no matter his wrath, he does have a heart, and he'll always protect theirs.

MC often reaches for the brand when heartache strikes, reminding themselves of their wrathful demon, with a heart of gold.

Belphegor loved Beel's choice and didn't hesitate to put his brand on the opposite shoulder blade.

He falls asleep with his head resting on one of those marks at least twice a week, pinning MC beneath him, willing or otherwise. Any attempted to wake him up just has him switching to the other shoulder and clinging to them tighter.

He loves that a permanent mark of his twin is close enough that he can feel anytime MC summons Beel, and vice versa.

Anytime MC summons one, there's a 50/50 chance that both will come, called by each other's magic.

When the time came for Lucifer to make his choice, MC was sure he wouldn't surprise them, but unbeknownst to them, Lucifer had no intention of making the choice completely by himself.

He's seen them, wearing each and every pact with pride, pride to rival his own, but any human with sense would be proud of forging pacts with 6 of the seven lords of the underworld.

MC is more than proud of the pacts, they're proud to be part of the family. They give everything to that family, time, effort, love, all of it dedicated to those they call family.

In the end, MC had already made the choice a very long time ago, and lifted their chin, breath catching as Lucifer's palm encompassed their throat, placing their life, their breath, in his very hands.

The demon beamed his pride as he painted their throat with his brand, never to be hidden, never to be taken away.

That final mark symbolised more than a pact with the avatar of pride.

It stood for the completion of a family long left lacking their final piece.

[nixotene]

Kind of in awe over how similar the actors for tua seem to be to their characters (in interviews at least) so take this with a grain of salt. I just think it’s cool how the casting directors seemed to find the perfect actors to play the roles, both looks and personality wise.

Master list of details I’ve found they share with their characters ig lol

Luther/Tom: loves working out and apparently does his learning while working out (cut to scene of Luther doing push-ups while reading). He’s a big softy and loves bringing the group together. He’s always there to boost his fellow actors self esteem.

Diego/David: Acts big and boisterous but is actually very invested in how others perceive him. Wants to be seen as the cool macho one but (not so) secretly has a heart of gold. He also seems to be the one they’re most likely to lovingly bully. Also dated Ritu (Lila’s actress) but kept the relationship as hidden as possible.

Ritu/Lila: she laughs to hide her true emotions. She overall tries hard to hide her true emotions. Again, secretly dated David and were only found out by fans through their families. Hate to say this one but seemed to break up due to events of s4 (just speculation as they stopped following each other/deleted photos off their socials a little before the season came out which likely means issues while filming it).

Allison/Emmy: cares a lot about her self image. Is a famous actor. I mean, they all are but like she really holds herself as one in interviews. She has a very refined actor way of answering questions while still allowing herself to be fun. Honestly hard to tell if she’s like Allison because I can’t tell how she’s like off screen, which is a good thing. She does often refer to the others in sibling/family terms which is so sweet.

Klaus/Robert: always saying the most unhinged and out there things. Constantly barefoot. He’s the glue that seems to hold them together and always knows how to make light of a situation through use of his quirky humour. I don’t know how watching the final scene together would have gone without him. Also appears to be a drug connoisseur.

Five/Aidan: very quiet until he needs to say something. He seems to very much be an old soul in a kids body. I remember in an interview on how they handled shooting the final scene and he mentioned he didn’t cry until he was alone in his trailer because he takes awhile to process things like that. He just seems like a very thoughtful person.

Ben/Justin: kinda sassy but in the way that you just love him more. The others (especially David) seem to love to bug him constantly. I love this bc Ben and Diego do seem to have been close before Ben died. He enjoys his alone time and solitude. He is soft spoken yet sassy. Honestly feels like he acts like a mix between umbrella Ben and sparrow Ben which I love.

Viktor/Elliot: he’s pretty introverted and doesn’t speak much unless prompted. Just overall a sweetheart that doesn’t want any trouble. He’s also a writer. Also tramsgemder

[helluvapoison]

Hi!!! For the injury promts, could i ask for prompt 6+dialogue 17 with Lucifer? Im down so bad for this man-

you make it easy

warning: blood, violence, ooc(?), angsty and dramatic

Stars, he should’ve accepted your offer when you asked to join him on this morning’s errands. He was a fool to think his good mood would last.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Believe it or not, there was a time when Lucifer noticed everything. The sky is brighter than it was yesterday, he would say to no one, he simply noticed. Nowadays it was harder, a struggle to live outside his own mind. There was a passing thought every now and again. Hey, that lamp is new or Charlie’s nails match Maggie’s. But even those came at the worst times and he never pointed them out when he should, be it in the middle of an argument or entirely different conversation. Determined, he kept trying. More than that, he tried to see his world through his daughter’s eyes, to see that there could be good in the strangest places.

It was hard when the looming cloud of misery and evil followed him every time he tried to leave the hotel. The only time it didn’t was when he was accompanied by you. Charlie, as good natured and pure as she somehow was, was biased. Lilith’s doing, of course. His ex-wife made it seem like Lucifer’s decision was a gift and not the curse that it really was. But you… you were magical. You held an umbrella he couldn’t see that kept him safe from the endless troubles he made with his own two hands. While he knew he had every capability to protect himself physically, the inner workings of his mind was an entirely different story. Besides, it was, admittedly, nice to have someone else do it simply because.

You didn’t want anything from him. You just thought he was worth the effort.

If only he could think the same for himself. Not even two blocks into town did the thick clouds gather into a storm above his crown. It whipped and raged in his mind, hissing what he already knew. He wasn’t. God was punishing him for a reason and that reason stared him in the face every waking moment in Hell. Piles of bodies, gallons of blood, drugs, sex, etc. Not an hour could go by without seeing it all. So who could blame him when he lost sight of Charlie’s dream in the fog of guilt and self pity? How was he supposed to notice anything other than the deplorable sinners and their heinous ways?

He rounded the first corner he could, gasping and clutching at his vest. Whistle leaning against the cool bricks, a shadow stretched toward him. He saw. He saw the demon, he saw the jagged knife and he saw the intent in their eyes. Going against the King of Hell was a suicide mission but Lucifer saw exactly what they wanted from him. Retribution.

In all but a moment it was over. Red blood splattered on the alley wall opposite to him, merely adding to the number of stains it had worn over the centuries. Golden blood though? WItnessing that was a treat indeed. Through the tear in Lucifer’s ivory suit he could see it dribbling down his arm. As his eyes traveled over his attire he could see it was also blighted by the demon’s blood. That took precedence over his own injury but at the time he was grateful for the distraction. The news would lap up a scandal with the Morningstar name on it–

He needed to leave.

Lucifer attempted to summon his wings but they refused to budge. The sky was unsafe to them. It felt as if a thousand eyes were judging him from above. Fuck the news— Heaven was judging him.

He needed to hide.

The man slammed the end of his cane against the ground, instantly conjuring a portal that dropped him unceremoniously into your room.

A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he took in his surroundings of your belongings, “No! No, you stupid–!”

“Lucifer?”

You performed magic once again; turning gold into ice and freezing him in place with his back to you. He begged the wall for answers. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck did his magic bring him here when he just wanted to–

“Is that– Fuck! You’re bleeding!” You gasped

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed! Funny story, I didn’t mean to intrude– you know me, a gentleman should always knock– so I’ll just get out of your hair.”

As he spoke you’d scrambled over and stole any chance he had of absconding out of there. His voice got smaller and smaller until it was nonexistent. You reached not for his arm but for his coat, pulling it back to reveal a bigger patch of gold seeping through his vest.

“Oh that can’t be good.” He muttered, more annoyed than anything.

“Ok, uh, fuck. Fuck. You stay here and I’ll get—”

The second he felt you withdraw he whipped around and snatched your wrist like a lifeline. Your chest puffed with a smaller, quieter gasp as you drank in his appearance. Covered in more blood than just his own, he looked utterly panicked. Less than few had seen the king this way.

“No! No, I-I-I can’t have anyone see,” Daring to look down at himself, he foolishly thought maybe the gorey reminder wouldn't be there. And like a fool he winced when it was, “this. Please don’t tell anyone— Especially not Charlie.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in you, just a firm nod that filled him with relief.

“You’ll do everything I say then.” You bartered, though it wasn’t much of an option.

Lucifer’s heart threatened to plummet to his stomach. He tried desperately to blink away the fog of doubt that lingered. You wouldn’t blackmail him… would you?

“I… Yes? W-Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—! Er. I mean, I guess I want you to listen and be still while I clean you up? I’ll probably have to burn this before Al sniffs it out. And Nifty’s been going through my shit again so it’ll take me a minute to find…”

You began talking to yourself and Lucifer tuned your voice to background noise when he heard all he needed to. Of course you wouldn’t blackmail him, he felt horrible he even doubted that!

The word ridiculous came to mind as he looked up to try and spot that invisible umbrella you always seemed to be holding for him. While Lucifer searched the air, you got to work. He was malleable for your gentle hands, allowing you to strip his upper half and discard the evidence in the fireplace of your room (he didn’t complain, you’ve seen his suit collection) You diligently cleaned both cuts with utmost care, surpassing what he deemed acceptable and ignoring him when he said exactly that. Only when his skin was porcelain again did you bandage them with a nearly depleted first aid kit you kept under your bed.

“Here, it might be big on you but it beats freezing. The sixth floor has a vendetta against working heaters so it gets chilly here. That's why I keep the fireplace on all night.” You rambled as you pulled one of your own shirts over Lucifer’s head. He noted it was one of your favorites as he had seen you wear it often. Sometimes days in a row! He was more than honored; he was on cloud nine! If this is how you felt when you wore it, he’d never take it off.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said softly. For everything, he didn’t add.

“Anytime,” You replied dutifully. Then casually killed him with, “You can have my bed, by the way. I’ll take the sofa.”

“That-That’s much too generous. You’ve already done so much, I—“

“If it were me, would you let me leave?”

His eyebrows nearly shot up and off his head. The very thought of you bruised and bleeding in his room had flames licking the back of his throat. He needed to expel the smoke through a sigh, covering it up with a fist to his mouth, mumbling,

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“My sentiments exactly. So get your royal ass in the bed… Your majesty.” You bowed low and perfectly, keeping eye contact with him all throughout your bit.

A minuscule laugh escaped him and you beamed seeing your efforts were not in vain.

“Fine. Well… we could, ah, both fit in your bed. If you wanted! I-I’m just looking at it a-and that sofa is not an adequate sleeping area for you. Much too small.” He squinted at your couch disapprovingly, pursing his lips as he pretended his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his chest.

You stood to your full height, seemingly considering the offer, “Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Already pulling back the covers for both of you, he scoffed and actually tried to shoo your worries away with a wave of his hand.

“Hurt me? No one can hurt— Oh. Hm. You caught me on a bad day, I can’t say what I normally do.” Lucifer tucked his hooves under the blankets as he spoke, waiting for your cue of laughter that never came.

The bed dipped beside him, much closer than he was anticipating. Your forehead melted against the top of his fluffy, blonde hair. He watched your hands twitch, longing to embrace him but too cautious for your own good. If he wasn’t such a coward he would close the distance himself.

“I didn’t know you could get hurt.” You sighed heavily, finally releasing what had troubled you since you saw him.

Lucifer’s brows dipped in concern but he kept his eyes trained on the burning fireplace across the way, “Anyone can get hurt down here.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. You’re the king.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, darling. Being a king doesn’t exempt me from pain. There’s quite a few ex-kings down here that could tell you that,” He attempted to laugh. Subconsciously his hand landed over his bandaged side, rubbing the soft fabric of your well-loved shirt. “I’ll be alright. Besides it wasn’t an angelic weapon so it wasn’t a serious assassination atte—“

“What?” You reeled back with wide eyes, kneeling beside him and gripping his shoulders lightly, silently begging him to focus, “Wha-What do you mean!? People have tried to kill you before!?”

He stared at you like you asked him why the sky was red. He didn’t understand your panic but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Well… yes? Yours truly isn’t only hated by Heaven. There’s plenty of people down here that pray for the royals' downfall, Hellborn and sinners.” Lucifer tilted his head, confusion had his brows furrowing, “But they can’t kill me.”

“But-But you said it probably wasn’t serious? How do you know? Who did this to you; what did they look like? I-I’ll go find them and—“

“Good golly, breathe! Just let it go, it doesn't matter.”

Your eyes flashed red to let him know the fire of your fury you was blazing. But your eyes glassed over as well, pupils shrinking and jumping across his face like you were memorizing every detail. You held him so gently, like he was going to disappear if you let go.

“Yes it does! It matters to me because you matter to me, Lucifer!”

You were scared.

“I-I—“ He was dizzy with euphoric disbelief. You could tell him every day that you cared about him and he would become breathless every damn time. “I killed them.” He managed to choke out.

You didn’t immediately relax like he had hoped you would. Exhaling through your nose you nodded once that hit him with another magical wave of pride, solidifying his choice and making him sit slightly straighter.

“Good.” Your voice dropped dangerously for a moment. He was presented with the terrifying reminder that you are a sinner, you’re down here for a reason. He couldn’t linger on the fact when the red wisped away from your eyes and returned to the lovely shade he remembered and adored. “That’s why you didn’t want Charlie to know.”

“Anyone,” He corrected softly before his voice turned almost bitter, “No one can know. It might give people the wrong impression if their king did the opposite of what his daughter’s hotel represented. Not-Not that I care what they think but… I don’t want to let her down. Again.”

You practically pulled him in your lap, tucking your chin against his shoulder and sighing heavily. Your warm breath tickled his skin and sent every hair he had standing at attention.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” You promised.

“How.. is it so easy for you to say that?”

“I dunno.” You said all too honestly, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead on his, “Some people make it easy.”

Content with that answer, for once his mind quieted and stilled. He melted against you until he was safely tangled in your embrace.

[madebyrolo]

Pretty Girl

Rafe Cameron x reader

she/her

summary: y/n being best friend friends with Sarah has her always over at her house. Over the years she's grown a crush on her older brother Rafe. Best friends brother, will it ever happen?

soft! Rafe Cameron

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ღ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Y/n sitting on her stomach, legs crossed behind and her head in her hands. Her and Sarah were talking about her boyfriend Topper, the same old convo how she wants to break up. Shes heard it all before, her past exs wanting more, not wanting more, boring, too crazy, getting the ick, losing feelings or just wanting too.

Topper was nice, and her favorite. Be always came with gifts and a small bouquet of flowers for her stepmom or y/n depending on who she was with at the time. He was studious, honor roll student who rarely got Bs, trust fund, boring kook. Never wanting anything out of line or dangerous. He 100% dates to marry.

“Topper he just isn't what I want. He's sweet and kind but I need some fun, someone who isn't scared of breaking rules-” Sarah said before someone came in.

“Sarah have you seen the remote”’ he asked.

Rafe Cameron, Sarahs brother.

He was your typical college frat boy, getting into trouble, a ladies man, partys every weekend. Boy he was hot, he was 19.

The older boy who always teased y/n when he had the chance, yet payed little attention. He threw her in the pool by sweeping her off her feet (metaphoricallyand physically), always throwing small objects at her. Calling her pet names like sweetie, chick, and his favorite, monkey. He only did these things because he loved to see her flustered. Here eye shape becoming big them small, the red creeping on her cheeks, and the way she put her fingers on her mouth as a nervous tick. Though y/n didn't mind it, it was attention from him and she didn't care how it was. That's how a crush basically is.

He sooner looked over his sister on her chair to the bed seeing his favorite teenager.

“Awe monkeys here” he said with a smile a little too genuine.

“Nice to see you too Rafey” y/n greeted him back.

“Have you guys seen the remote, I wanna watch the game” he asked again

“Uh no we haven't been on it. Ask weezy” y/n answered

“Cool cool thanks” he said shutting the door behind him.

“But we did watch it like not even an hour ago?” Sarah questioned

“Yea but he called me monkey” They shared giggles

“Ok back to topper” asarah said counting the convoy

As y/n somewhat listened she couldn't help but think about Rafe. Even tho there's a age gap she kept wondering what would ever happened if she got a chance.

🝮 🝮

If I could be a pretty girl I'll wear a skirt for you.

Everytime she wore a skirt she would always compliment her. Saying “you clean up nice” and maybe taking a peak.

And I could be a pretty girl, shut up when you want me too.

He always would “complain” how she would chew loud, laugh to loud, always singing or humming a tune and hell she even lives too loud. He always teased her yet he loved everything she did.

And I could be a pretty girl I'll never make you blue.

Rafe would always complain about his “hoes”. How they were too clingy, annoying, cared too much or always assuming he was cheating because that's his reputation. They were mostly gold diggers and often too naive to understand that Rafe just wanted to fuck. That's what people thought, but Rafe just wanted someone to understand him.

And I could be a pretty girl I'll lose myself in you.

God, she would be completely his. Deleting everyone off her phone so it'll just be him. She would love him like he's never been loved before, showing him how soft and warm it could be.

Memories swarmed her head of them together.

Her and Rafe having a dance party when she was 13 and he was 16, she was waiting for Sarah to come back from piano lessons and she was running late. Rafe didn't want to leave her alone so he put music on and danced with her until Sarah arrived. They jumped and giggled around, Rafe spinning her occasionally, and giving her piggyback rides. He even taught her how to ball room danced.

Another one with all of them baking cookies from scratch. Sarah set up the ingredients all organized in their steps, she assigned them their jobs trying to perfect her cookie recipe. y/n was in charge of mixing and Rafe forming them into the shapes. As y/n began adding the ingredients as Sarah called them, Rafe grabbed the flour for her, and “accidently” dumping it all over her.

“rafe ....” y/n called out trying not to lose her shit

“Have fun ladies !” she said speed walking out the kitchen.

“RAFE CAMERON!” she yelled out chasing the boy out the kitchen door

“That's my name don't wear it out!” he yelled out from the hallway

And one not too recent, topper was over for a pool day with them. Topper and Sarah spending time together and y/n just swimming around the pool alone before Rafe joined her. She was doing laps right as Rafe cannoned ball right in her way almost hitting her.

“Rafe Cameron you almost hit me!” she said splashing him.

“Yeah yeah I wasn't even close, I made sure not to. Can't risk hurting my monkey. They're endangered!” he said soon shaking her hair and getting the water out directly at her.

She closed her eyes as the water drops hit her. If she wasnt already in the water she would've been mad but what can she do.

Soon Topper and Sarah came out from the house joining them

“Guys let's play a game of chicken!” Sarah exclaimed

“I call y/n” Rafe said pulling the girl close to him. She turned to him face to face their nose so close to touching

“Didn't expect to see you on Toppers shoulder now” she snarked at him

“Ok first of all he would be on Top.” he explained

“Oh I bet” she giggled Sarah doing the same

“what? EW NO Y/N” Rafe yelled out just wanted to vomit

“Come on let's just play” Topper said as he followed Sarah in the pool

Rafe went underwater letting y/n hop on his shoulders. As he felt her on he emerged gripping his hands on her thighs, making sure his hands weren't to high up to make her uncomfortable.

“My hands at a safe distance?” he asked while looking up the the girl.

“Yes Rafe thanks” she said blushing. Rafe this close to her and his hands on her made her heart beats like crazy.

And last but not least her favorite mememories of him.

Y/n came over to Sarah house crying over her now ex boyfriend. She expected Sarah to be there but she wasn't, and she was in the hallways in tears in search for her best friend. Rafe heard the front door open so he went to check who it was, as we went down stairs he saw y/n. Her eyes sad filled to the brim with tears, her eye makeup smudged, her hyperventilating all alone in the living room. He immediately went to her aide, sitting down besid her.

“Hey hey hey, shhh I'm hear. It's Rafe calm down you're okay. Youre safe I'm here.” he said above a whisper, pulling her into his shoulder letting her calm down.

After a few minutes of crying it out, she pulled apart.

“Oh god I'm sorry Rafe..” she said looking at the big tear and mascara stain on his shirt

“It's fine I have more shirts but I don't have another you.” he said moving hair out of her face.

“So you wanna talk about what happened?” he asked

“Jackson cheated on me” she said as a tear rolled down her face

“He what?” He said standing up getting defensive

“Yes I found out this morning.”

“That little dick. He kept begging topper to set him up with you. Always asking about you, like your favorite candy, books like if he wanted to be your boyfriend he should know right? He was obsessed with you, always staring and gawking at you” he said disgusted

“Honeymoon phase is real.” she joked

“And he had the nerve to cheat? He was practically on his knees for you? He even bought you a ring the other day too, for your 2 year anniversary. 2 years and he still didn't know what color jewelry you liked.” he said with a breathy laugh rubbing his hand on his jaw.

“he got me a ring...” y/n said looking up at him with curiosity in her eyes

“Oh y/n no, no! I can get you a damn ring if you want, here take this one.” he said handing you his ring that was way too big for any of your fingers.

“That one was the 2nd pair to this one. See look now we both are matching” he said with a smile

“Thank you Rafe” she said as he sat down beside her letting her lay her head on shoulder.

“He doesn't know that I know yet…” she said twildling the ring between her fingers.

“I have an idea” Rafe said getting up and dragging her with him.

Rafe and Y/n were standing in front of Jacksons house. It was midnight Kelce had spray paint and Trooper has concrete mix and eggs, and Sarah was keeping watch. The plan was to obvious, graffiti his car and then dumb the concrete mix around the lawn, they were gonna get heavy rainfall tonight. Rafe grabbed the red can and went straight to his bmw. He shook the can taking the lid off and tracing the words dick, cheater, extra small, and douche. Kelce went to disconnect and steal their hose so they couldn't wash anything off the next morning, and y/n and Topper started making a mess. She threw the eggs on the house, avoiding the windows and doors to avoid waking them up, and his car too. Rafe decided just to dump the mix in his gas tank.

After 15 minutes they were done, the car was destroyed, house was egged and kelce managed to sneak some contraband into his car in hopes to get him into more trouble. As they headed back to Rages truck, they shut the door and immediately started yelling and getting excited

“Dude that was so sick. Why haven't we done this?” kelce asked

“This is just easing him into the revenge, he should be lucky. This is just the start my friends” Rafe said as he began driving away.

The whole week Rafe has tormented the boy, and y/n has been ignoring every call and message. She thanked them by making them a pasta dinner with dessert and drinks. Once she finished cleaning up she found Rafe

“Thank you Rafey, I'm glad your crazy other wise I would've been sulking in my room right now” she said giving him a side hug

“No biggie, you mess with the people I love kill what you love” he joked

“Aw you love me” she teased

“How can I not? Monkey are the most interesting animals, we came from them” he ruffled her hair.

🝮 🝮

As she snapped back into the convo she realized that chance or no chance she would still have Rafe supporting her no matter what. She was fine with that, boyfriend, brother, friend, family whatever. She was grateful for the bond she had with him, it was unbreakable. She loved him and he loved her. Maybe in the way she had hope but that didn't matter much now, after he was just a silly crush.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ღ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

not proof read/edited

Hope you guys likes this short fluff

🧡

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:02 pm]

(cw: f!reader)

a/n: this is set in a very vague time period, (in my head it is like 14/15th century but it’s really not evident) pls keep in mind I haven’t interacted with any Romeo and Juliet content since I was like 13 but I still kind of like how this came out

Romeo!Haechan was more than happy that this party was a masquerade party. If anyone in this house knew that it was him that was hidden behind the gold-trim mask, they would surely have his head. He’d have been dead before the sun had a chance to rise again.

He rather preferred to stay on the wall, somewhat hidden by the shadows of the large stone pillars of the ballroom. Yes, to stay out of the eyes of those who would kill him, but more so to watch the rest of the party goers.

His eyes scanned over the crowd. A large sea of fancy masks, even fancier dresses, and very few familiar features. He was starting to wonder where his friends had disappeared to. Surely they were causing trouble somewhere, it was better that he stayed away from them tonight. Just his last name was enough to make half the guests in this ballroom pull their swords and chase him through the streets. The hatred was never something he’d questioned just something he went along with.

He was deep in thought, trying to remember how the drama between his family and those that threw the party had even started, but his thoughts stopped seeing that you had crossed his eye sight.

It was like you made everything around you more vibrant, the torches on the walls burned brighter, and every beautiful girl he’d ever seen before you immediately paled in comparison. His breathing became shallow and his heartbeat sped up with pure excitement.

He moved along the walls with precision, following you through the crowd until he suddenly realized you were both outside. A garden filled with sweet scented roses almost as beautiful as you.

You tugged the bow of your mask from the back of your head, sighing and taking a seat in a small bench below a big tree.

“Excuse my intrusion, I just had to let you know how beautiful you look,” Haechan stated.

You flinched, startled at the unexpected guest, “oh, thank you. I’m sure if I could see your face I’d be able to say the same.”

Haechan pulled the mask from his face, apprehensively hoping you weren’t one of the many people at this house who hated him because of his last name. You smiled softly, “you are handsome indeed.”

“It is nothing compared to your beauty. I am Haechan, it is so wonderful to meet a beauty such as yourself,” he returned your smile with his hand held out.

You told him your name as you shook his hand. A spark of electricity runs down your spine, goosebumps covering every part of your exposed skin. It looked like Haechan felt it too, his eyes widened minimally.

No one had ever made you feel like this upon first meeting. Haechan was very clearly special. He was making you feel all new feelings, an excitement to see him again even though he was still right in front of you. A yearning for him before he’d even left your eyesight.

“Donghyuck! That better not be you!” An angry voice called out.

Haechan looked panicked, “I’ll see you again soon. I promise, my heart is already with you.”

You tightened your hold on his hand, holding on until he disappeared into the garden. Your hand lingered with the warmth of his touch. You hoped he would keep his promise.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More sugarbaby reader! For logan? I love how sweet and caring you write him in that verse while still being gruff, maybe how they met or how she gets along with the other people Logan knows?

When he walked into the jewelry store a bit before closing, all he wanted was a battery put in his watch. What he didn't expect to find was a pretty little thing that smelled so good he had trouble not growling at her.

There were a couple other girls. More than willing to throw themselves at him. He could practically hear them getting ready to bat their eyelashes and coo about this and that... he didn't have the patience for it. And their perfume made his eyes water.

So he waited for you to look up at him. Smiling and sweet. "How can I help you?"

"Just a watch battery, doll," he said, proffering the offending watch by one side of the leather band. "Not sure anymore what kind."

You frown thoughtfully for a moment and nod, "I think we can do that. No worries. It's a nice piece. Well loved." He watches you take it carefully and inhales discreetly. You even smell sweet, and warm. And like something he can't quite name. It makes him want to bury his face in inappropriate places. The thought makes him feel like a dirty old man.

He doesn't bother to stop it though. At his age, every 20 something is too young for him. "I've had it a long time- don't even know how long." Not true. It was older than you. Might even be older than your mom, depending.

No rings. No flashy jewelry. Dressed down but dressed nice. He wondered if you were the kind of girl who liked matching bras and panties...

"My dad had one like it, I think. Gave it to my brother, maybe?" You work easily and make short work of swapping the battery for him. Taking care to reset the time before you hand it back. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Doll," he hummed, taking it from you, "how much do I owe you?"

"$15," you tell him, clacking your way to the register. No upsell. No flirting. You must want to get home. He chuckled to himself. He doesn't smell a man on you, school? After work drinks? You'd all been closing and the others might be green with envy but they hadn't stopped.

He handed you the cash and took a recipt and smiled. He'd be back.

And back he came.

This time, you were wearing red. Red suited you. It brought out different tones in your skin and your eyes and he felt himself salivate.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, leaning casually on the counter.

"Need a new battery already?" you ask, eyes glittering, teasing him a little.

"I need a little help," he said, "shopping for a birthday present."

"Wife, girlfriend?" you ask, looking up at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Eager. Excited.

"Good friend," Logan clarified. Preferably something that would look good on you- not that he could say that. Yet. "Something elegant, but not diamonds."

"Hmm," you think for a second, "Ring, bracelet?"

"Necklace, I think," Logan mused. You had a beautiful neck. And he'd love to bite- he mentally slapped the back of his hand and refocused. "Something she can wear out."

"Does she like silver? Gold?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

"Well," you tell him, "I do like a challenge, let's see what I can find for you Mr.-?"

"Logan," he said, offering you his hand, "call me Logan. It's good enough for everyone else."

[aimbutmiss]

Buggy stared at the stone wall in front of him with wonder and curiosity, as if the mysterious box-shaped rock held the secrets to life itself.

It probably did. At least a fragment of it.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? The ancient language.”

Buggy stopped his deep staring to turn to the tall man beside him. “It looks beautiful.”

Oden smiled at him. “Couldn’t agree more, Buggyjiro. What’s interesting about the writing system here is that it doesn't display the phonetics alone. The order of symbols and the way they’re connected also dictates the grammar…”

Buggy listened to the enthusiastic man talk about the writing in front of them, explaining and translating as he went. Maybe he was trying to pass down at least bits of the forgotten yet ever important language to him, or he was just really passionate about the poneglyphs. Either way, Buggy took every little piece of information that fell from Oden’s mouth as if it was a sacred treasure.

He stopped his little lecture as little Hiyori walked –more like stumbled, up to the stele and touched the surface with her tiny hand, babbling passionately. Though neither of them could understand what the little girl was trying to convey, they listened intently as if every little noise out of her made perfect sense.

“Is this one causing you two any trouble?”

Toki came over to them, walking in small steps as usual, and picked up the still bubbling Hiyori in her arms.

“Oh, not at all. She’s a clever girl, like her mom.” Oden said, making his wife giggle.

The samurai looked at them as if they were the most valuable treasure in the whole wide world. It warmed Buggy’s insides, yet there was a pang in his heart. Family. Something he longed to have for himself down the line, but he didn’t know if he could ever have it. He was pulled out of his thoughts when a strong hand squeezed his shoulder.

“I can tell you’re deep in thought. It’s good to think, but you need to learn when to get out of your own head, Buggy.”

Buggy looked up to his captain, not understanding when the man had even walked up to them. He hadn’t heard anything when he was approaching.

“Sorry. A lot to think about, though.”

“Hm, indeed. But you’re only 13. No need to think so hard at your age. Look at Shanks, he’s the master of not thinking.”

Buggy turned his head to watch Shanks run around the land, chasing a large snake around as he laughed without worry. Buggy grimaced. “That would be because he’s an idiot.”

Roger laughed. “That’s not such a bad thing in this world. If anything, you’re the one who’s too clever.”

“And that’s bad?”

“No, not quite. I just worry that’s all.”

Before Buggy could ask him to elaborate, the man abandoned the subject as he turned to Oden.

“You think you can leave a message in my steed on here? To let the future generations know that I was here.”

Oden laughed loudly, as he did most things. “Of course, Captain. That is if you can find anything that would dent this stone.”

Roger laughed back. “Who said anything about carving on the poneglyph, idiot? There’s no need, especially not when there’s a perfectly good gold surface next to it.”

That made Buggy smile. The captain was clever too, much clever than him, yet he couldn't see how that was a bad thing. If anything, he liked being clever because it made him more similar to the captain. They didn't look anything alike and he certainly didn't have his bravery. He'd like to have a trait of his to remember him by.

He frowned. Perhaps thinking too much was indeed not a good thing. He turned to the sacred bell of Shandora as the dialogue in the background became background noise; and though he was not raised to be religious, he prayed that he had a little more time with his dad captain.