#so. PT to start

[lurkiestvoid]

I actually did my physical therapy exercises tonight for the first time in a long time and I am Sore and probably gonna regret it tomorrow, but it was very much needed. I did a thing to take care of myself! The bar is low but I'm proud!!

[itsmemuffy]

I can make you feel better...

If you let me (chapter one)

Chapter Two out now ♡

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, naive reader, obsessive and touch starved Logan, friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, non-sexual physical intimacy, sexual fantasies (real smut in pt. 2), mentions of Charles, Ororo, Jean, Scott and Rogue

Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Logan. He's the type of man that goes where he wants to go- and waking up in an infirmary on a small hospital cot after being round up like some sort of animal was not on his list of things to do that week, to say the least.

For all intents and purposes, his next plan of action was to get away from here as soon as he possibly could and get back to the life he lived on his own terms. His only home and form of transportation was totalled somewhere in the Alberta wilderness, sure, but he already had experience starting over from nothing.

Oh, but was one man ever persuasive: Charles Xavier. Not many people had an edge over Logan like he did. If his ego permitted, he would be thankful that the man that held upper hand had noble intentions.

When he first met you, a cute little thing diligently running errands to what was perhaps the one man who could have his answers, you immediately piqued Logan's interest. So sweet and so kind, and Charles put his trust in you?

He had barged in like he owned the place on you and the professor scheduling out the upcoming semester in his office. Charles appeared to have already gotten used to this type behavior from him. "This, my dear, is Logan. He will hopefully be joining us now."

Oh... so is he planning to stick around? You ponder as you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning onto Charles' desk with your hip. Logan immediately came off as brooding and dismissive, and he didn't seem like the type to settle into a place beaming with so much activity. Regardless, you extended your hand out to him as you told him your name.

It took him a second to register the gesture. He only now noticed how lost in thought he was, eyes caught below your neckline. With a clearing of his throat, Logan reached a hand back to you to shake it. The most formal of ways to greet someone, yet the feeling of your delicate fingers grasping his rough palm caused his mind to wander again. He forced himself back to reality.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around," Logan remained aloof in speech, hoping you didn't notice the way he devoured you with his gaze. He decided to promptly remove himself from the room, searching for the privacy to be alone with his thoughts.

A few interactions after your initial introduction, Logan started to feel something beyond sexual curiosity. You made his heart race, you made him nervous.

Not a single detail went unnoticed by Logan. The way your hips would sway, how you parted your hair, the shade of lipstick you wore, the softness in your voice whenever you greeted him, your scent.

Life kept throwing change in Logan's way, morphing his way of living into something unrecognizable to him. For the last however many years (boy, is he ever bad at keeping track of time) he had filled them with isolation and taking whatever cheap pleasures he could find. Now he finds himself surrendering the space in his mind to a woman he barely knew. You brought warmth and light into a cold, dark place.

No, this won't fly, he thought to himself. The fact that he was losing control over the dynamic between you made him very uncomfortable. Logan made it his mission to learn more about you. If he could just figure you out, he could take the reins over again.

The two of you would always acknowledge eachother in a group setting. The tiny smile Logan would throw your way whenever you caught eyes made you weak. You couldn't help but to want to know more about him, too. A rugged man who was a stranger not too long ago was showing you consideration? A man who nobody knows where he's been, what he's done, how old he is? It kind of wracked your brain, but you tried not to let it trip you up.

Oh, but he would catch you trip up. It wasn't lost on Logan the times you entered a space with him in it, seemingly to forget what you came in there for. Maybe you were a little ditzy- your mind often racing too fast that you couldn't catch up with yourself, but it had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. At least, that's what he told himself.

He replicated your behavior, scouting you out amongst the mansion. It wasn't hard for him to find you. Your trail had become so much bolder to his senses, overshadowing anybody else that could be in vicinity.

Logan always found what he was looking for. Excuse after excuse slipped easily from his lips. Obvious to everyone else what he was doing, you earnestly took the bait every time without fail. He marked the first time he had a conversation with you alone as a significant victory.

"Hey, didn't see you there. Have you seen Charles around? I need to talk to him." He had cornered you in the library, watching you read for a minute or two before making his presence known.

You flinched up in your chair, "Jesus Logan, don't sneak up on me like that!" The yelp that initially left your lips was definitely a sound he would remember next time he's alone.

"Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to scare ya," he chuckled.

The upset you felt towards him for breaking your flow state lasted but half a second. You couldn't be mad. After all, whatever he needed Charles for must of been important.

"No, Jean and him are off chaperoning a field trip in the city. He should be back sometime this evening."

Logan let out a little "hmph", trying his best sound to sound disappointed. Inside he was estatic he finally caught up to you again. Now with no one else around, his mind flooded with possibilities on how this could go. The odds of you immediately throwing yourself at him weren't zero, were they? If he were to take you and bend you over the table right this very second, there was a possiblility you'd let him... right? God, am I really this desperate? he thought.

After letting a moment hang in the air, he sat down next to you in the ajacet seat. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself? Got nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, huh?" Good idea, Logan, change the subject.

"You're one to talk," your focus was now one hundred percent on him. Thighs spread as he lazily leaned back in the chair, rolling his head to the side. To say he wasn't beautiful like this would be a lie. You've rarely seen him this relaxed. "Aren't you here too?"

"Huh." Logan did not anticipate you to call him out like that, "I guess you've got a point, there."

An awkward silence sat between the two of you. You pretended to divert your attention back to your book, not letting him escape the corner of your eye. Logan lit up a cigar he fished from his pocket. He desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"This is a library, you know that right?" You chide him after an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, is it now? I thought all these books were just for decoration." His lips sucked in another drag.

"Very expensive books, Logan. There's plenty of perfecly fine places to smoke around here if you just look."

He got up from his seat, "Then why don't you show me around, darlin'? Open my eyes a little." You couldn't quite tell if the pet name was to belittle you or to be affectionate. A hand reached out to bring you to stand. "I'll let you lead the way."

You lead him outside to the back of the mansion, a secluded area with an old stone bench shaded by the surrounding trees. It was your favorite place on the property, and it soon became his as well.

After that day, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the two of you to catch eachother in that very spot on a warm day. You would watch the kids play in the field, discussing all the antics the students got into that week. Bright afternoon sun would peak through the trees as cigar smoke wafted in the air- everything felt so perfect when you were with him.

Logan often found himself falling asleep thinking of you. He would linger on any time you spent together in the previous hours of the day, overanalyzing the interaction. Any amount he got of you was never enough. He always needed more. More time with you, more closeness, more, more, more.

If he was lucky, you would visit him in his dreams. It was rare but whenever it happened, it was a blessing. You would appear to him as vivid and real as if he was awake. There, he was finally able to close the gap between you two. His hands would finally meet every inch of your plush skin.

However, Logan's mind loved to torture him. As much as your companionship has brought him peace, no amount of feelings for you could change the fact that he was a broken man. Most nights consisted of horrific images; an incomprehensible collage of blood and bodies that he desperately tried to make sense of. All he knew is that it was all real. It happened. The pain was too prevalent to be fantasy.

Tonight he had awoke in terror yet again. A cold, uncomfortable sweat coated his body, chest heaving up and down like a piston. Logan's eyes were blown wide, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to convince himself he was safe in his room. When did four walls around you ever mean you were safe? His intrusive thoughts were keen on keeping him in a state of anxiety. When did four walls ever make someone safe from you?

That was enough. Logan knew all too well how his mind could go on and on like this if he let it. He needed to get some air. The bed creaked under his shifting weight as he sat up. His entire body felt sore. It was if he fought off an entire army in the hours he was asleep.

After finally getting up, he made his way past his bedroom door and down the hall towards the nearest exit. The kitchen was along that route. He figured he might as well grab something to drink. Anything, as long as it was cold.

As he turned the corner, the narrow hallway met the open space of the kitchen. Logan was surprised to find the room already illuminated with light. His eyes lit up when he saw who was sitting at the counter.

Logan stumbled before you a dishelveled mess. His hair was matted, sticking up every which way. The white tank he wore was half tucked into sweatpants he haphazardly put on before leaving his bedroom, drawstrings not even tied as they sat low on his hips. His demeanor was one of a wild animal, cautious and running on instinct.

A wave of awareness washed over Logan. He combed his fingers through his dark locks and straightened his back as he approached you further. Once he got himself to think in actual words again, he greeted you.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" His voice was hoarse and deep. Logan just now realized how sore his throat was. He hoped to god that he wasn't screaming in his slumber- at least not loud enough for anybody to hear.

"I just woke up not too long ago. Was hoping a snack would help me get back to sleep." You sat before a plate filled with a random assortment of food you scavenged from the cupboards, "Want some?"

"No thanks, sweetheart," the way he spoke sweetly to you through his gravelly tone made your heart skip a beat. He didn't need to ask to know that you had a rough night as well. It was written all over your face. A gentleness Logan typically pushed down and tried to ignore was bubbling to the surface. Something in him was relieved he was no longer alone with himself tonight.

You watch him make the journey past you to the fridge, scanning the contents of the shelves like it was the hardest decision he had to make in a long time. Rootbeer or ginger ale... Ginger ale or rootbeer...

"You didn't hear it from me, but Scott keeps a few beers in the vegetable drawer underneath the celery."

"That sneaky little bastard," he smirks. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Logan was delighted. Not only by the sudden promise of alcohol, but by the thought that you might share other secrets with him, too. He had a boyish urge to stay up the entire night with you and see if he could get you to spill all the other secrets you must have.

Two beers clanked together as Logan grasped them with a single hand. He took a seat across from you and slid a bottle over to your side of the countertop. Your eyes locked and held on to that contact for probably way too long. Time felt like it has stopped. The moment he walked into the kitchen and saw you, the clock might as well never ticked a single second past 1:37 AM.

"I don't know... Scott will probably notice if we take more than one," you say as you bite your lip.

"I'll run to the store in the morning, he won't even know they were gone," he was all too ready to combat your excuse. Logan wanted to see you come undone. You worked so hard, did everything you're told and were so diligent. Such a good girl. A beer in your hand looked terribly out of place and that made his heart swell.

"Guess it can't hurt, can it?" You opened the bottle and sipped as the frosty glass numbed the tips of your fingers.

He drank much slower than his usual pace, taking the tiniest of mouthfuls like the time with you would run out with the beer. Silence draped over the two of you like a warm blanket, both too exhausted to put on any sort of show to entertain the other. The satisfaction of just being in eachother's company was enough. It came all too easy when you were together. After witnessing all those horrors earlier in the night, Logan finally felt content.

You notice he rubs his neck, a strained noise rumbled in his chest. The stool you sat in screeches against the tile floor as you get up and make your way over to him on the other side of the island. Logan's eyes followed you with every step you took

"May I?" you ask as you now stand behind him, hands hovering over his shoulders, waiting for permission. It wasn't a big deal. You always help out Ororo and Jean when they have stiffness or a knot. That's what friends do for eachother, right?

Logan did his best to hide his signs of exitement. He couldn't let you know how often he thinks of your touch. If he had only one ounce less of pride, he would be begging you for the simplest of contact all hours of the day. "That's real sweet of you, but you really don't have to," he said with the slightest quiver in is voice.

"But I want to." That's it. Those four words just shattered him into a million pieces. If you only knew what you were doing to him.

Your digits grip the dip in his shoulder as your thumbs dig between his shoulder blades. You tried not to gasp when you felt the all knots going up his back. It has just occurred to you how little mind he must pay to taking care of himself for it to get this bad. Pain was a staple of his everyday life, why waste time to try and remedy it? Despite the ability to heal, the constant state of tension still took an immense toll on his body.

Logan leaned into your touch and practically melted under your fingers as he tentatively sipped his beer. If he were to turn around and look at your face, he'd see your complexion flushed bright red. Maybe you were enjoying this a little too much, and you chastised yourself for thinking that way. Little did you know all the scandalous thoughts Logan let his mind run away with on a daily basis when he was around you.

Your hands quickly grew weary working into the solid muscle, but you pushed through it for him. You know he needed this by the way his eyes were now closed and soft hums that left his lips. After working across his shoulders, you finally made your way to his neck. Logan let his head fall forward completely as your knuckles broke up the bundled-up nerves beneath his skin. The tightness in him was able to come loose a bit for the first time in a long, long time.

"Whew," you withdrew your hands and shook them out, "hopefully it feels a bit better now."

"It does," a smile crept up on his face that he tried to supress with each word. "That really was somethin', thank you."

You sat back down across from him and remained mostly silent after that apart from the occasional yawn. A single beer not quite enough to offer a buzz, but enough to lull you out of your wired state.

"Think I'm going to call it a night. You should, too. Danger room is on the itinerary first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, well you can tell Charles where to stick his itinerary." Logan was determined to make you smile one last time before you parted ways- and he succeeded.

He walked behind you on your way back down the hall, wishing the journey was not as quick as it was. Your room came up a few doors before his. Logan almost followed you into your bedroom before he shook himself out of auto pilot. It was like a habit that hadn't been formed yet. He belonged next to you in that bed, he knew because he felt it in every fibre of his being.

"Goodnight, Logan. Sleep well."

"I definetly will now. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. There it was again. You convince yourself it couldn't of meant anything.

When you gently shut the door behind you, time had resumed yet again. That little bubble wherein only the two of you existed had been popped.

He lied about going back to sleep, holding on to the delusion that he didn't need it. Besides, he didn't want to say goodbye to your essence. You still filled his senses, if only just barely. A deep inhale could capture your scent, and your breathing could faintly be heard if he really listened. Logan stood outside your door until the sun started to rise before he snuck back into his room.

He never ended up replacing Scott's beers.

As time went by, your encounters with eachother became more and more frequent. Excuses to talk were no longer required. You enjoyed Logan's company, as he did yours. There was no reason to pretend, you were just two friends growing closer by the day.

You gradually opened up to one another and Logan started to confide in you. Any insight on himself or his past was kept brief, giving carefully worded and vague details. You knew better than to push him for more than he was wiling to give and he liked that about you. Whenever the confusion, the regret, or the pain would get too much, he turned the conversation back to you. The more he learned about you as a person, the more his mind circled all his thoughts back to you.

Neither side knew, however, what things the other was keeping to themselves. You couldn't tell him how the casual touches felt different from him than how it felt with your other male friends. You couldn't tell him how hard it was to think when you would run into him all sweaty after an intense training session. You couldn't tell him that when you held onto your pillow at night, you wish it had his warmth.

And he couldn't tell you that you were the first thing he thought of in the morning. He couldn't tell you how he had a favorite pair of jeans that your ass looked best in. He couldn't tell you that he committed every detail about you to memory- from the curve of your lips to the way you say his name.

Anyone who saw the way Logan looked at you could deduce there was something more going on beneath the surface. Scott would tease him about it and he would swiftly shut it down. Jean and Ororo would pry you for details, only for you to tell them there was nothing going on between you and him. They didn't buy it. No one bought it.

All the words unsaid eventually built up so high it was suffocating. It was getting harder and harder to behave like normal around eachother, not knowing where the boundaries were and if it was okay to cross them. Something had to give.

It started out as a regular Friday evening with the team gathered together, watching movies and playing cards. Your initial plan was to work late into the night. Small, tedious tasks has accumulated as you had focused on more pressing matters throughout the week. Charles was having the X-Men find mutants at a pace more efficient than ever before which corresponded with an increased workload on your front.

You were leaving in the morning on a trip for the long weekend and you were determined to finish everything before you left. Ororo was always the one to break you out of your paperwork prison and get you to live a little. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you to come down before we put on the next movie."

"Storm, if I don't do this now, it will never get done."

"Oh, please. You worked so hard all week. Everything here can wait until you get back," your friend watches you as you roll your eyes and continue sorting files. Good thing she had a little trick up her sleeve, "...and Logan wants to see you before you leave."

"He said that...?" you inquire in an almost pathetic manner. She nodded but truthfully, he didn't have say it. She knew it was true all the same.

After dragging you downstairs you scanned the common room, everyone talking amongst themselves with a glass in hand. Everyone except Logan. Ororo had pulled a similar scheme to get him to come out of his self isolation, but when he saw you weren't there earlier, he decided to skip the socializing and retire to his room.

Jean, ever the fast thinker, was in on the plan, "Hey, we were thinking about ordering takeout. Can you do me a favor and see if Logan wants anything?" She hands you a menu knowing you wouldn't pass up a chance to be helpful to a friend.

Logan sat in darkness on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples and groaning. He truly didn't mean to blow everybody else off. In actuality, he enjoyed shooting the shit with the mutants he was slowly starting to recognize as his family. Tonight was different, however.

Frustration was pushing him to his limit. He still wasn't any closer to finding the missing pieces to his puzzle. Charles told him these kind of things take time. He was sick of hearing that, he needed answers now. His sanity depended on it.

Only one thing was certain- another person had done this to him. There was no doubt the wiping of his memories was a deliberate effort on somebody's part. That wasn't the only thing. The recurring visions of being horrified at his own self, the sickening realization he was changed into something he hadn't been before haunted him on the daily. Is my body really my own?

All of this made worse by the multiple birthdays of a couple of students this past month. Simple things everyone knew about themselves- when and where they were born- was a luxury he was not afforded. Logan felt himself slipping, the feelings that were out of his control eating away at him.

A knock at the door stopped his thoughts in its tracks. "Logan? You there?" Only but a half hour earlier, you were the only person he wanted to see. But now that he has succumbed further down his spiral of self pity in that short amount of time, he didn't want you to see him like this.

"What do you want?" His uncharacteristically cold tone made you wince behind the door. As much as he needed you to pull him out of the hole he dug for himself, the dark recesses of his mind were commanding him to push you away.

"We're ordering takeout. Jean needs to know if you want anything."

"I'm not hungry." He was silently begging for you to walk away before he said something he would regret.

"Can I please come in?" You pleaded, hoping he'd recognize the worry in your voice. This wasn't like him.

"Fine," he grumbled. At the end of the day, Logan could never say no to you.

The door squeaked as you inched it open. You could barely make out his silhouette in the dark. With a flick of a switch, the space was illuminated. "Is everything alright, Lo? You're scaring me."

Careful footsteps slowly brought you to stand before him. The air in the room was undoubtedly charged. Every action you now took was deliberate, as if trying not to startle a feral animal.

"You wouldn't be the first person that's ever been scared of me," he spat out his words like daggers.

As serious as the conversation felt, you couldn't help a scoff from escaping you. You sat down next to him on the bed mere inches apart, "that's not what I mean and you know it. Stop being so obtuse and tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on, believe me," Logan sighed. His demeanor immediately softened just from having you close. He buried his face in his palm- an insecure gesture you've rarely seem him perform. But when he did, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Bullshit. I know you better than this, Logan." Maybe you were getting through to him.

Something about what you said must have struck him the wrong way as he tensed back up again. "You don't know me at all, actually."

"How can you say that? We see eachother almost every single day! Come on, now... You can't be serious," you playfully nudge his knee against your own, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I am serious. How can you know me when I don't even know myself? You don't know what I've done and how many people I've had to do it to. I don't even know any of the fucking details but I know it ain't anything good, sweetheart." He watched outside himself as he was taking his inner frustration out on you.

Logan knew it wasn't right to speak to you this way when you were just trying to be there for him. As much as it stung in the moment, you tried not to take it personally. He was hurt and he needed you, that much was clear.

"Listen to me for just one second," you braced yourself, unsure how he would take what you were about to say. "I know what kind of man you are. And I don't need to know your entire damn history to be certain of that."

All he could do was stare blankly at your face as he processed your words. Without waiting for a response you continued, "How can I be so sure? Because I see it in everything you do, Logan. It's in the way you treat Rogue and the other kids, treat your teammates, treat me. I can't tell you that you've never had to hurt anyone, but you know what? I have faith in you. Faith that whatever may have happened in your past, you've learned from and are a better man for it."

A long period of silence sat between you. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but the charge in the air had definetly diffused. You held his stare, now was not the time to back down. There was a chance you were finally getting through to him and you needed to make it clear you meant every word that you just said.

After a prolonged moment to properly think about what you were saying to him, the look on his face transformed into something you couldn't quite put your finger on. A look that was warm, and you could go as far to say it was a look that was loving.

Logan did indeed love you. He loved the way you didn't try to tame him, how you not only didn't shy away from the less savory aspects of his life- you met them head on with tenderness and understanding.

With this love came great guilt. You had a way of making Logan feel like the world had more to offer than just loss and suffering, for this he was grateful. Still, the feeling he deserved to suffer alone gnawed at him until his gut felt raw. If he were to send for you everytime he needed you, you would be a way busier woman than you already were. The fact that you always made time for him without the semblance of hesitation wasn't lost on him, either.

"How are you so sweet?" he croons as he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. Logan was always gentle with his touch when it came to you, but the softness of his actions in this moment shocked even yourself. "You're too sweet for me, darlin'. Wouldn't want anything to change that."

It almost made you sick to your stomach how just barely your bodies were connected in this moment. He kept his touch as light as a feather as he trailed his hand down your neck before it made it's temporary home on your shoulder. "Say something, sweetheart," he pleaded as a firm squeeze brought you back to reality. Logan needed more of your words to keep him grounded. "Please."

"Logan, I..." your brain scrambled as you tried to gather your thoughts. The way you felt for him was so foreign to you. You couldn't put it into words right now no matter how badly you wanted to. This feeling could only properly be put into actions- an action older than language itself.

Without thinking, you close the gap and press your lips to his- Logan's bottom lip captured between your own. In his wildest dreams, he never thought you would be the one to make the first move and initiate a kiss. The hand that wasn't on your shoulder now cupped your face. He held you there, afraid you'd slip away from him.

"I'm sorry... I know it probably isn't the right time for this," you whispered against his lips.

"Mmm," Logan emitted a small chuckle into your mouth as he went in for a deeper kiss this time. More intense, hungry. His beard burned deliciously when it scuffed your skin. "Never a wrong time to kiss ya, sweet girl."

Now that he has felt your velvety soft lips, he knew he would never be able to get enough. His desire for you overrided his shame. Logan got a taste of what it would be like if you were his. From this point on, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. The floodgates were now open and he couldn't wait to pour himself all over you.

He pulled his face away from yours, still holding your body close, "all this just for you to leave in the morning, huh?" Logan looked down at you through half-lidded eyes. His mind was in a daze, in such bliss now that the invisible barriers between you were finally being torn down.

"Oh please, I'll only be gone for a few days." Even though the trip you were about to go on was a long time coming, you wouldn't mind throwing all your plans away just to be in Logan's arms all weekend. "Why, you gonna miss me that bad?"

"I always miss my girl when she's gone," he couldn't help all the syrupy words from flowing from his mouth. Inhibitions were nonexistent to Logan in this moment and he couldn't say anything but exactly what was on his mind.

He was right. You were his girl. In every sense of the word. His girl whose face would light up everytime he walked into a room. His girl who would save him a plate whenever he was late to dinner. His girl who would always make sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed. His girl who would do absolutely anything for him- all he had to do was ask. Logan had owned your heart for a while now.

You fiddle with the seams at the bottom of his tank, fingers brushing his abdomen underneath. It was enough to make you both shiver. "Just do me a favor while I'm away, Lo."

Jesus, how his pulse quickened everytime you called that little nickname. I'm so fucked, he thought. What a fool he was to think he was ever in control. Since the moment the two of you met, his heart belonged to you as well. "And what is that you need me to do?"

"Try not to be so hard on yourself," you punctuate your request with a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek. You felt his face lift as a smile reached his eyes. "Shit... I haven't even finished packing," it has just now dawned on you.

The realization he couldn't keep you next to him in bed forever hit him like a brick- another bubble popped. It's a shame, but he told himself there will be plently of opportunities to conjure up the little worlds you built together. He had no other option but to placate his burning desire for the time being.

"Well, don't let me keep you any longer," Logan hesitatantly let go of his grip on you. He got up to escort you the few steps from the bed to the door. Excessive, yes. But so necessary all the same.

Just as your hand was reaching to turn the handle, turned your back to the door to embrace him. It took your entire wingspan to wrap your arms around his broad form. Logan's warmth was absolutely addictive. He held on to the back of your head with his face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Just in case I don't catch you first thing in the morning..." you whispered as you caress up and down his back, "goodbye, Lo."

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he withdraws from his burrow within your hair to slip his lips between yours again. "Think of me while you're gone, will ya?"

"Always do."

And with that, you were apart again. As you were folding clothes to go into your suitcase, you couldn't help but think about how well the two of you clicked into place. He already had you longing to feel his body up against your own again. You fell asleep imagining all the places you'd let his hands explore when you got back. Logan laid in his bed doing the same.

Fin.

[theythemmer]

r we phuckin w the phaltar

[woe-is-tuli]

ATEEZ(에이티즈) - 'Lemon Drop': Jongho

[pippynsworld]

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[milkbreadtoast]

Jung Yeseo bday art 2025 (his bday is 2/22)... I actually finished this in march, sorry for uploading so late 🥹 still really proud of this... it took me a whole month of hard work to finish 😵‍💫 BUT WORTH IT... ANYTHING FOR JUNG YESEO🤎🤎🤎

[sen-ya]

I am generally Nervous and Embarrassed abt posting my lawlu comics but I simply love shachi and it feels like my duty to share every piece of shachi content I have

[23fallencomets]

Love me gently (or not at all) pt vi

a mix of the power-dixon pack, a lando pov, a moment between jenson and lando, and a line into something else

They all bundle up in the pack nest after dinner. Will is propped up against the furthest wall, a book in hand as the others are sprawled around him. Dixon is on the other end, quietly talking to Josef and Rossi, of what exactly doesn’t concern Will, Scott has his business and Will has his own.

Will hasn’t let Logan out of his sight, occasionally looking up to see Logan bickering with David while Kyle watches. It’s been a few years since Logan has been in their nest, their pack and he’s found his footing like if he never left. Nolan is wedged in between Logan and Pato, the young alpha clinging onto Logan while Pato pretends to be offended that Nolan brushed him off twice already.

Eventually Dixon comes over, nudging his way until he’s leaned next to Will. He hadn’t asked about the conversation Will had with Sebastian, knowing that it was something between Pack Omegas and mostly dealing with Sebastian as it was could be a little headache inducing.

“They’re willing to wait until a week or two after Lo’s heat.” Will offers, “But Vettel is determined to have Logan.”

Scott scoffs, “They didn’t appreciate him when they had him,” He grumbles, looking over to where Logan has now enraptured Colton and Alex with his hand gestures, “He won’t stay, you know that right?”

Will shrugs, “He can make his own decision Scott, my guess is he’ll make them work for it. He’s not as naive as he used to be.”

“No, but he was sweeter then.” Scott says softly, “You should’ve seen him, only a few stuck close to him, almost wanting to follow him. That Sergio guy had to hold them back. They messed up my boy.”

Will hadn’t gone, having stayed behind to prepare a room for Logan. It wasn’t his old room, but they knew that for as long as Logan would like to stay, the room was his. Besides, no one has been able to corral the pups better than Logan did tonight.

☆☆☆

The Hamilton-Vettel pack for all it’s prestige and honor, was fracturing. There could be a multitude of reasons: the lack of proper pack structure, the absence of older pack members, but it truly fractured in the light grey room of Logan Sargeant, the American omega who left his home pack and tried to find his footing among another.

Oscar was easily loved, his calm and near stoic demeanor as an Alpha more appealing than Logan as his tendency to look startled at every interaction and ability to make himself look smaller than the rest despite his near six feet stature.

It’s why Checo reached out, and with him came Lance and Yuki. Lance brought Esteban and Yuki brought Alex, who came in pair with George. They didn’t mind Logan and his silence because it only took a few weeks before he started scuffling with Yuki and joining Lance in his nest. He went on runs with Esteban and spent hours enjoying Alex and George’s joint presence. Zhou had joined in on his own, wanting to join in with them.

Jenson had claimed Logan sometime between then. Logan’s scent began to level out, the sweet undertones of an omega scent becoming more pronounced.

Lando didn’t have much against Logan. He was Oscar’s future mate and Esteban usually has a million stories about Logan, but Nico avoided Logan like the plague, dodging the younger omega at any given chance. Unintentionally, Lando started doing the same, stopping conversations when Logan popped in, going the opposite direction when he saw Logan coming. He knew it wasn’t Logan’s fault even though it feels like Jenson was paying him more attention, seeking him out on the rare days he was home.

It wasn’t bitterness that festered in Lando, no, it was almost childish, the gripping insecurity that coursed through him when he saw how happy Jenson was with Logan or how Oscar always seemed over the moon after spending time with him. Did Jenson love Logan more than him? Even when Jenson was his Sire longer than he had been Logan’s?

Now the house is quiet, there’s no sound of life in the walls, just plain, loud silence besides the barley audible arguing of Lewis and Seb. It makes Lando squirm causing Carlos to groan, squeezing Lando, but it makes a faint tendril of panic course through him and the Spaniard alpha lets go.

“I need to talk to Jenson.” Lando mumbles, tripping over Max who snaps his teeth at Lando. In retaliation, Lando jabs his fingers into Max’s ribs, jumping out of the nest before Max can get him. He hears Danny pulling Max down, the displeased growl being muffled by Danny shoving him under the blankets.

He finds his sire in the living room, sitting in one of the few armchairs. Lando lets out a small whimper and Jenson’s head snaps towards him, his face lighting up. Jenson is out of his seat before Lando can blink, tough, calloused hands cupping Lando’s face.

“Oh, my pup.” Jenson coos gently, instinctively scent Lando. He lets himself, sinking under the familiar scent as he leans into it.

He almost forgets why he came here, until he catches the faintest whiff of Logan’s seasalt smell. It makes something in Lando ache, the scent so faint Lando thinks he made it up. He buries his head in Jenson’s chest, not understanding why Logan’s absence is making him feel hallow.

“He’s not coming back is he?” Lando asks when Jenson pulls him away slightly, “Dame rejected him, so he’s not coming back.”

“Of course he will.” Jenson reassures, “But there are issues within our pack that we have to fix before he comes back.”

“Seb and Lewis are yelling at each other.” Lando mumbles and then more hesitantly asks, “Do you like Logan more than me?”

Jenson pulls him back into his arms, “Of course not, I just love you guys differently. You have the whole pack, they all love you and would do anything for you, but Logan doesn’t have that wide net. Sure he has Oscar, Esteban, Lance, Checo, Zhou, Alex and George, but compare those seven to the fifteen in your corner? On top of that, you have Nico.”

Lando shifts, thinks of how destroyed Nico looked when Logan left, how his scent had soured and the vicious look Jenson had given him. He had lingered outside the door when Oscar told them he was planning to court Logan and remembered the way Nico’s tone had curled angrily around the words and the way he reacted to the news.

“I think Logan and Oscar work well together.” Lando says, “I just don’t get why Nico doesn’t think so.”

“He’s feeling a lot of things right now,” Jenson says, “His omega has always accepted Logan, it’s just his personal feeling clashing with his instincts. Once Nico comes to term with them, we can start fixing the problems one at a time.”

Jenson pulls away again, his hands never leaving Lando’s face, “How about we go see Dame? Just like old times, the three of us.”

Lando grins, pulling away from Jenson’s grip and moves towards the room they reside in, entering and quickly getting comfortable next to Nico who blinks at him in surprise.

“Hi pup, what are you doing here?” Nico asks as he bundles Lando closer, the younger omega curling into Nico easily.

“Sleeping,” Lando mumbles, “Sire is coming up in a few.”

But even with Lando curled up between them, he can’t help but feel the void where someone else should be. God, Lando think, let this be over soon.

☆☆☆

“I think you’re being a little dramatic.” Kyle muses a few days later, sitting on the steps of the back porch. Colton is in his other form, a gorgeous brown coat shimmering lightly as he sun bathes. Logan throws a ball at Kyle and it narrowly misses him, bouncing off the column of the porch, “It’s not that serious, Lo.”

“To me it is, you ass.” He grumbles, rolling onto his back. Somehow the air feels cleaner here, almost fresher. It makes Logan a little antsy, his eyes slipping shut as Kyle wanders over, plopping down next to Logan.

“It’s your first heat away from them,” Kyle says, a bit more softer, “Will will be there, so will Pato and all the things Oscar brought were put in those fancy scent protector bags.”

Logan rolls over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows and pulled the grass out in tufts, “It’s just…I really wanted Nico there—stop grumbling, you dick.” Logan huffs, “You don’t get it—and that’s fine, but it’s all instinct, we wanted him there and he was so mean about it, and maybe he didn’t mean to be, but it just—it hurt.”

Colton’s heavy head thumps against his back and a small pitiful sound rumbles against his back. Logan smiles softly as Kyle, gently nudging Colton and standing up, throwing the tufts of grass at Kyle.

“Can we go inside now? I’m getting hungry.”

Kyle waves him off, a contemplative look on his face, “You can help the others with lunch, I have a call to make.”

Logan shrugs, walking inside and ignoring the way Colton turns to Kyle, a knowing look in his eyes. Instead, the pups of the Power-Dixon pack greet him enthusiastically and again, Logan ignores the painful longing for the pups he used to watch over, letting their chatter wash over him as he begins helping with lunch.

[patheticrafeenjoyer]

idk how many more please god if you love me's i got left atp

[vampireboba]

first encounter 🦇

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know��” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[fatedroses]

he is indeed very proud of himself.

[thelesbianoffrontiers]

Envoy Ismay + Dawnshore Outfits

[shallowseeker]

I’m still alive. Just getting a lot of medication adjustments. 🥰🙏💩💊

[absent-o-minded]

Shoot From The Hip D&D arc holy shit

[doueverwonder]

listen reasonably I know Gov probably speaks french bc it was the lingua franca for a good while BUT it'd be funnier if he doesn't bc I stand firm on about half the states speaking French as their first language and I think half the country deserves to be able to have public side bars during meetings while Gov and the rest of the states sit there like "?????"