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Chapter Text

It all happens incredibly quickly. 

He's woken up by Shoku crying, 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, in pain, blood staining the sheets as she curls in on herself. Rembrandt doesn't know what to do other than take his wife into his arms and hold her as she screams. 

Donnie bursts into the room, breathing heavily thanks to him sprinting back from Heron's room after putting the boy back down from a nightmare. His eyes widen at the sight before him.

Shoku is being held close to Rembrandt's chest, her shaking hands clutching at her stomach, her inner thighs are drenched in blood, soft fur stained crimson as she shakes. Rembrandt looks terrified, eyes wide and so 𝙨𝙤 scared. 

Donnie tries his best not to crumble right there. 

Shoku needs cleaning and Rembrandt needs calming and there's 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 and-

Rembrandt is crying as he places Shoku into a warm bath, the water turning pink. Shoku has passed out from the pain. Donnie is clutching his husband's shoulders as the leaf turtle hunches over the bath, hiccupping and barely breathing, tears dripping into the bath, causing ripples in the water. 

He eventually collapses into Donnie's arms, the softshell holding his love close to him as he stares blankly up at the ceiling, tears pooling before sliding from the corner of those dark eyes Donnie had fallen for, now so dull and almost lifeless from grief and 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮. 

"I did this to her... I caused this..." His voice is so broken, so hoarse as he speaks, and Donnie holds him tighter. 

"𝙉𝙤. No you didn't..."

"I 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 her... She's in pain... I hurt h-her..." He's sobbing again, curling in on himself as Donnie holds him tighter, pinning Rembrandt's arms by his sides so he can't hurt himself, can't claw at his face or scratch at the matching scars on his arms. Donnie comforts him throughout it all. 

"You 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧, Rem... This- this is 𝙣𝙤𝙩 your fault... We had... 𝙣𝙤 control in this situation." Rembrandt finally looks at Donnie again and oh 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 Donnie was 𝙣𝙤𝙩 prepared for 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 

Rembrandt has that heartbreaking look on his face he always gets when he remembers 𝙝𝙞𝙢, what he made him do, what he 𝙙𝙞𝙙 to him, and Donnie's eyes widen before squeezing his husband tight, pressing Rembrandt's face to the crook of his neck, feeling his husband take a breath before he 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙, the sound muffled by his neck as Donnie 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙨 that none of the kids hear it. Having hybrid kids is a pain in the ass. Donnie's sound-proofing is 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙, but not 𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘 𝙛𝙤𝙭 hearing levels of good. 

When Rembrandt is done screaming, he let's out a croaky whimper, and Donnie knows exactly why his husband presses his face right up against his carotid artery. 

Then a small sound from the bathtub has them both going rigid as Shoku slowly opens her eyes, fur matted to her face from crying, her usually bright eyes appearing almost hazy as she looks over at her husbands. 

"What..."

Then it all seems to come rushing back as Shoku's soft ears flip back against her head, and both Donnie and Rembrandt quickly climb into the bath, clothes and all, not caring for their now soaked pyjama pants. 

Shoku is shaking again, staring down at the pink-tinged water, staring down at her 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙘𝙝, barely breathing. She looks to Rembrandt, tears welling up in her eyes all over again. 

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry I'm 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 I-" Rembrandt is holding her close to his chest and Donnie's arms are wrapped tight around them both as she stutters and sobs, hands pressed to her soft stomach as she chokes. 

They're both trying to soothe her, Donnie's trying to soothe both his spouses at the same time, letting out comforting churrs as Rembrandt holds Shoku, peppering her neck and face with kisses as he brushes away her tears, whispering to her so softly, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. 

"It's okay- it's 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮, Shoku. It wasn't your fault. You did nothing, 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜, wrong." Donnie briefly notes the irony before moving a hand down under the water, gently pushing his wife's hands away from her stomach, carefully placing his hand there instead, his touch so soft in contrast to her clawing. 

She's shaking her head and sobbing, trying frantically to find some reason as to 𝙬𝙝𝙮 this would happen. It had been going 𝙨𝙤 well, the pregnancy was progressing 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 so 𝙬𝙝𝙮-

She must have been saying at all out loud because when Donnie pulls her into his lap to be sandwiched between her husbands, he is whispering as he presses his cheek to hers. 

"You didn't do anything wrong... These things happen..." His voice is so much softer than it usually is and the comforting pressure of both Donnie and Rembrandt pressing against her slowly calms her breathing. 

"You're perfect, 𝙢𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚, you could never do anything wrong..." His hand joins Donnie's on her stomach, but he's still shaking slightly, his touch somehow softer than Donnie's, treating her as if she's made of glass. Rembrandt's face is pressed to her pulse point and he can feel her heart rate steadily decreasing, counts the beats in each minute that passes as the mutants hold their wife.

The water is tinged red now, and Donnie drains it before unhooking the shower head, carefully and methodically rinsing himself and his spouses of the soiled liquid before positioning himself between his wife's thighs, gently cleaning away the dried blood that still clung to her fur. 

Rembrandt is holding her now, still an imperceptible shaking to his hands over her stomach as he keeps his face pressed to he side of her neck, his head nestled under her jaw. Shoku is staring blankly at the wall, flinching a little with each pass of the water over her. It's too warm and comforting to her, far more than her broken body deserves, far more than her 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 body deserves. 

"I'm sorry..." She mutters out one last broken apology, Rembrandt's hold on her tightens the tiniest bit. 

"Don't ever apologize to me. Not for this. 𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 for this..." His voice is firm but it trails off as he feels his wife's heart rate pick up again. 

"We wanted this so badly... 𝙔𝙤𝙪 wanted this so badly... And I ruined it..." Rembrandt let's out a shaky breath at his wife's words, and Donnie sees the way his jaw tenses as he shakes his head. 

"No... No you didn't ruin 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜... You're 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩... 𝙏𝙪 𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙩..." 

The three of them stay like that for far too long, the shower head still running warm water over Shoku's thighs as Donnie rests his head on her collarbone. 

Eventually Shoku passes out again and Rembrandt cradles her close to his chest and carries her out of the bath, Donnie close behind. Donatello takes off his soaked clothes when they get into their room. Rembrandt refuses to let go of Shoku. Donnie strips him as Rembrandt cradles their wife like she's delicate, like one wrong move could shatter her. 

Rembrandt falls asleep before Donnie for the first time in years. This time, it is Donnie's turn to watch his spouses sleep. 

Maybe this is why Rembrandt spends hours staring at his spouses sleeping faces. They both look so peaceful, unaffected by their loss save for the tear tracks down both their cheeks. 

Donatello doesn't sleep that night. He practically forces Rembrandt and Shoku to stay in bed for the whole day, allowing him to take care of the kids for once. 

He dismisses Orion's questions, ignore's Minerva's questioning stares, and gives a half-baked, barely believable lie to Heron when the young hybrid asked why Donnie rushed out so quickly after putting him back to bed. 

He calls Raph halfway through the day for backup, and she barely takes two steps inside before sniffing the air and looking to Donnie in sympathy. He doesn't explain anything to his big sister, he doesn't have to. Her sense of smell had always been sensitive, as much so as his own, and she can smell the distinct lack of pregnancy hormones in the air. 

They hug silently until Orion and Heron come running out to greet their aunt. Raph puts up a much more convincing façade than Donnie, scooping her two young nephews into her arms and spinning around with them, laughing off Heron's questions about when her and Artemisia are going to get married. The snapper offers one last comforting look over her shoulder at her younger brother before walking into the games room to distract the kids while Donnie escapes. 

He finds himself back in the bedroom, Shoku and Rembrandt are still holding each other, watching something on Rembrandt's laptop, and Donnie silently walks over to join them, the trio silently repositioning so Rembrandt and Shoku are laying against their husband's chest, Donnie's arms holding them close. 

Bluey. They're watching Bluey. 

Chapter Text

"Rembrandt... What did you do..?"

His voice sounds so small, so broken, and Rembrandt couldn't give less of a shit. 

"I finished them."

The robot looms over them both easily by about four foot, standing a little taller than Raph had been when she died. 

Rembrandt hasn't switched them on yet, but he can already 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 the spiritual aura coming off of them, the two souls so strong that they permeate power even in a dormant state. 

Leonardo takes in a shaky breath at the sight. He knew Donnie had started this before he died but he didn't think Rembrandt was insane enough to actually 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 what his husband started. But obviously Shoku dying was the last straw to break the camels back. 

"Why can't you just let them rest..?"

Rembrandt's head whipped around faster than Leo could blink, eyes wide and pupils thin slits, somehow thinner than they were whenever he looked at the slider. 

"I'm only finishing what Donatello started. I won't let him and Raph die to those 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 out there." His voice is so cold it 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙨 Leo, but he plays it off, jaw tensing as he approaches. 

"I don't care if you're finishing what Donnie started, this is 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜! You can't- You can't just bring someone back from the dead, Rem! Let alone 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚-"

"𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙," His voice is so sudden and firm that it’s terrifying, and Leo doesn't realise how close he's gotten until Rembrandt is glaring down at him. "𝙄 am not the one that started this project. 𝘿𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚 was. He built the components that would hold his and Raph's souls first. They were already trapped before I started working on this. If anything, I'm setting them 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚."

His blue eyes are so, so cold. He looks at Leo as if he's a 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩, as if they hadn't been sharing a bed since Donnie died. As if they hadn't been sleeping with one another since Usagi died. 

Leonardo's breathing grows erratic, his hands clenching at his sides. 

"Why can't you just let them be dead? Why- why can't you let them be happy why can't 𝙬𝙚 be happy-"

"𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧!"

Rembrandt so rarely raises his voice and the sudden outburst rips a sob from Leo's throat as he curls in on himself. 

"I- I do I 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 I do-"

Rembrandt holds his face and makes Leo look up at him. 

"No, no you 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩. I am a 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 for what you lost. You are a replacement for what I lost," The words are painful and heart breaking and 𝙨𝙤 true. "𝙉𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 of us love each other, Leonardo. We're just filling in for dead spouses."

Rembrandt let's go of Leo's face and he craves to feel his touch again immediately, so desperate for it that when Rembrandt turns away, Leo rushes forwards, wrapping his arms around him from behind, pressing his plastron to the other's carapace, sobbing against the nape of his neck. 

"No- no, please, I- I can change I can love you just 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚. I 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 you, Rembrandt, you're all I have I-"

"No," His voice is so much softer now, so much sadder. "No you can't."

He pries Leo's arms from him, turns around and looks at him. His expression is softer but his pupils are still narrow slits. 

Leo's face is wet with tears at the beauty of the man before him. He understands why Shoku and Donnie would fall for him. He understands his sweetness and his kindness and his love. And yet Leo cannot bring himself to feel the same. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me."

Rembrandt has turned away again, facing the robot. 

"Leave. I need to start them up and get them adjusted." His voice is cold again and Leo let's out a shaky, defeated breath. 

"Fine."

Rembrandt hears Leo's footsteps recede, looks over his shoulder to make sure he's really gone, before collapsing to his knees, gripping the worn fabric of Donatello's overalls. He's barely breathing, shoulders shaking as he curls up at the robot's feet. Menet. Their name was Menet. Some kind of acronym made up of fancy words Rembrandt couldn't remember. Donnie had told him before he died. He should have written it down. 

There is warmth all around him suddenly, the subtle sound of electricity whirring, and a large hand is placed on his back. They're kneeling in front of him, curled around him and holding him close and the sob that rips from Rembrandt is horrifying and painful because 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 was Menet's first action. 

They didn't ask who they were or what was happening. They didn't ask about the combined voices in their head or their patchwork metal exterior. Their first action, first instinct, is to hold him. 

Rembrandt clings to the shared body of his husband and friend, and cries tears he had held for half a decade. 

Chapter Text

It's three AM. She has 𝙣𝙤 reason to be this hungry. Well, she does, she is heavily pregnant after all, but still! Shoku is 𝙣𝙤𝙩 as stealthy as she used to be and both Donnie and Rembrandt are asleep for once and she feels bad about waking one of them up to make her food. 

She squirms a little in an attempt to just try and get into a different position to go to sleep, but that only serves to disturb Rembrandt a little and, much to Shoku's horror, he wakes up. 

"𝘼𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙧..?" She freezes when she realizes she's been caught, and Rembrandt props himself up on his elbow, looking down at his wife with glowing blue eyes. "Is everything okay..?"

There is genuine worry in his voice and it makes guilt tug at her heart. 

"N-nope! I'm good, Remmie! No need to worry!" She tries to just smile through the lie but Rembrandt knows all her tells. 

"Are you hungry?"

Shoku flushes at just how easily Rembrandt figured her out, and she looks away bashfully and nods. 

"Y-yeah..."

Rembrandt chuckles softly and leans down to press a kiss to Shoku's forehead, internally squealing at his wife's shyness. 

"I thought so... What're you craving? I'll make it for you." Shoku looks back to him quickly. 

"Are you sure? It's three AM and-"

"Just let him cook for you, darling... He's just going to keep insisting..." Donatello groggily interrupted his wife, pulling her closer to him by her hips as Rembrandt huffs out a short laugh. 

"Would you like me to make you some food as well, 𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚?"

Donnie opens one eye and smiles at his husband. 

"As compensation for waking me up, yes, yes I would like you to make food for me."

Rembrandt chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to Donnie's lips, the softshell just smiling and churring in response. Shoku let's out a involuntary, needy whine, and both Donnie and Rembrandt immediately pepper her with kisses, making the fox giggle and playfully bat Rembrandt's face away. 

"Stop! You got food to make dumbass!" Rembrandt just laughed with his wife and husband before standing, pulling on those ugly plaid pyjama pants he's had since he was twenty that both Shoku and Donnie have learned to love. 

"Yes, yes I'm going, I'm going! I assume you both want fries?" Both Shoku and Donnie nod happily and Rembrandt smiles before walking out. 

The house is quiet, as it usually is at three in the morning, and Rembrandt chuckles a little when he can hear the low murmur of one of those weird conspiracy theory videos Astrid watches all the time. Rembrandt knocks on his daughter's door as he walks past, chuckling softly when he hears her shriek and slam her laptop shut. 

The light to the kitchen flickers on as Rembrandt walks in, and he smiles and waves at the little camera in the corner of the room, knowing his husband is watching as he retrieves everything he needs from the refrigerator and cupboard. Chicken, potatoes, cheese, chilli peppers, his Nana's 'secret seasoning' that Donnie still hasn't figured out the ingredients of, garlic mayo, sweet chilli sauce, butter. 

The recipe is routine by now, peel and cut the potatoes, toss them with the seasoning and put them in the air frier. Put the chicken in a hot pan, cut it up with a turning spatula and put the cheese over top and let it melt. 

Rembrandt is snapped out of the almost mindless routine by a light tugging on his pyjama pants, and he looks down to see Heron standing there shyly, looking at the ground with obvious tear tracks down his cheeks. He quickly moves the chicken off the heat and kneels down by his son. 

"Heron? Why're you up? Is something wrong, 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧..?" Rembrandt took his son’s hands in his own, reaching one hand up to brush the dried tears from his face. 

"Is Mama okay..?" He sounds so tiny and frail, and Rembrandt tilts his head a little. 

"Of course she is... Why do you ask..?"

"I had a nightmare," Heron finally looks to his father and there is 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧 in his vibrant red and blue eyes. "Las' time I had a nightmare the baby wen' away. Is- is Mama an' the baby okay, Papi?"

Rembrandt pushes back the guilt he feels as he's reminded of his and Shoku's loss in favor of scooping his son into his arms and smiling down at him.

"Mama and the baby are doing just fine, 𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙨. I'm just making some food for Mama and Papa now. Would you like to help?" Heron nods shyly as his father holds him close to his chest, and Rembrandt presses a soft kiss to the small boy's forehead as he puts the chicken back on the heat to melt the cheese again and portion it through the meat, the process made a little slower since he's only able to use one hand but Heron is still clinging to him and he refuses to put his son down. 

When Heron starts eyeing the insanely appetizing mess of chicken and cheese, Rembrandt chuckles softly and picks up one of the pieces of chicken, biting it in half and blowing on it to make sure it isn't too hot, before placing the chicken in his son's mouth. Heron smiles as he chews and lets out a happy little chirp, little tail whipping back and forth against Rembrandt's arm as he chuckes. 

"Good, 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧? Are you feeling any better?" Heron smiles and nods, giggling when his father blows a raspberry on his cheek. 

"Papi! Stop!" Rembrandt smiles and puts his son down when the air frier finishes with a little ding. He separates the portions onto two plates and does the same with the chicken, scraping the chunks of cheese coated meat on top of the fries. Heron is on his tip toes with his hands on the counter to watch his father work, and Rembrandt smiles as he applies the sauces to the dishes. Sweet chilli and garlic mayo on Shoku's, and just garlic mayo on Donnie's. Heron holds out a finger and Rembrandt chuckles as he squeezes a little bit of garlic mayo out onto his son's finger to appease him. Heron smiles and eagerly licks his finger clean. 

And finally, Rembrandt cuts up half a chilli to put over Shoku's fries (Donnie can't handle his spice that well yet, but Rembrandt still hopes to change that), and leaves the other half in the fridge to infuse some rum with later. It's been a while since he's thanked his matron. 

Once he's finished cleaning up and putting everything away, Rembrandt lightly bumps his son with his hip, laughing a little when Heron pouts and glares up at him. 

"Alright, 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙩, time for bed. It's late." He sighs fondly as the small boy just whines. 

"Don't want to go back to bed... Can I sleep in your room with Mama and Papa?" Rembrandt just raises an eyeridge at his son. 

"You only want to steal Papa's fries, don't you?" The devious little giggle Heron lets out is all Rembrandt needs to hear before he's shooing the little hybrid out of the kitchen and back towards his room. "Yeah, I thought so. Now out! Back to bed before I get Ma'man Brigit on you!"

Heron shrieked and giggled before running off to his room. 

Rembrandt smiled as he heard his son's door open and close before he took the plates of food and started walking back towards his and his spouses room. 

Just as he's about to push the bedroom door open with his foot, Donnie opens the door. Rembrandt stares at him for a second, brow furrowing at his husband's unreadable expression. 

"Is... everything okay..?" There is concern in his voice for a moment before a grin splits Donnie's cheeks. Rembrandt lets out a confused chuckle and shoves his husband's portion of fries into his hands, bumping him out of the way with his hip and walking over to Shoku who is also grinning. 

Rembrandt smiles at his wife as he hands her the plate of fries while pushing another pillow behind her back for support. 

"Why are you both grinning like that? It's unsettling." Rembrandt's tone is just slightly sarcastic and Shoku giggles as she places a fry into her mouth. Donnie sits down on the bed by his spouses with his plate of fries in his lap. Neither of them answer Rembrandt for a while, not until Shoku finishes chewing a bit of cheesey chicken and smiles at the father of her sixth living child. 

"The baby's kicking."

He's heard that phrase so many times over the course of Shoku's pregnancies with Donnie. After their first loss he didn't think he'd ever get to hear Shoku say that about their child, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 child. And now, as Shoku says those words, gorgeous and glowing and so beautifully pampered just as Rembrandt's instincts desire, he feels like he's simultaneously dying and coming back from the dead. 

A dumb smile spreads on his face and purring erupts from his chest, bouncing almost impatiently before Shoku laughs and lifts her plate so nothing will spill as Rembrandt immediately dives forwards, his cheek pressed to his wife's stomach and her thighs over his shoulders. He can feel the subtle movement under his vixen's fur and skin and just the thought that his child is 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 inside his wife's womb is enough to make tears rise to his eyes. Shoku coos softly when she feels the dampness of Rembrandt's cheeks on her stomach, and she hands her plate to Donnie for a moment, reaching down to cup the crying leaf turtle's face, bringing him up so he's looking at her. She presses her lips to his and Rembrandt's hands hold her stomach so horribly gently, as if one wrong movement could shatter the baby inside and ruin everything. 

Shoku chuckles against Rembrandt's lips and pulls back a little, resting her forehead against his. 

"We did it!" Her voice is so happy and triumphant and Rembrandt smiles as he presses more kisses over his wife's jaw and down her neck. 

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 did it... I'm not the one that's been carrying an actual 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 inside me for nine months..." Rembrandt is still crying and smiling, and Donnie scoots forwards to cup his face, making the leaf turtle look his way and bumping their foreheads together. 

"You both did your part... and I couldn't be more proud." Rembrandt purrs at the loving tone of his husband's voice as he wiped tears from his eyes. 

They're all smiling and laughing and kissing, cradling Shoku's stomach and petting her thighs and holding her close. Shoku and Donnie finish their food eventually and Rembrandt places their plates on the bedside table, just before getting pushed into his back and peppered with kisses all over, his husband and wife responsible for the vicious little attack on his face and neck and shoulders and chest. 

They all fall asleep like that, a mess of tangled arms and legs and love, holding one another close, holding Shoku's stomach, feeling little kicks against their palms. 

Chapter Text

Shoku breathes deeply as she leans over the bathroom sink, one hand gripping the porcelain side, the other resting on her belly. 

Twins. Fucking 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙨. 

She would kill Rembrandt if she wasn't so pregnant. 

There's a knock at the bathroom door before it creaks open, and Shoku glares at the reflection of her husband, though not with anything more than mild irritation. 

Rembrandt smiles fondly back at her, leaning against the doorframe as he observes the heavily pregnant fox. 

"Heron and Orion are asking for you... They won't let me or Donnie put them down..." His voice is soft and soothing as he comes up behind his pregnant wife, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as his hand rests on her soft hip. Shoku huffs and pouts, crossing her arms over her chest as Rem's hand makes its way under her heavy stomach. 

"Can't we just... wait until they both pass out..?"

"And have them both be miserable and overstimulated tomorrow? I don't think that's a good idea... If you want I can help..?" He's so gentle, his other hand moving to join the first under his wife's stomach, linking his fingers before lifting his fox and unborn children easily. Shoku let's out a pleasured sigh, the aching weight on her back she had grown so used to finally lifted, and she leans heavily back on the mutant. 

"No... I'll be okay... It's easier to focus without you there..." Rembrandt smirks at that, lightly nipping at his mate's jaw. 

"Oh? Am I too 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 for you, 𝙈𝙤𝙣 𝘼𝙢𝙞?" She really wants to bite back at him, but she can feel her cheeks flushing and a smile tugs at her lips. 

"Yes, you are. Now carry me to the boys' room. You owe me a foot rub after this!"

Rembrandt laughs at his wife's antics and carefully shifts to pull her into his arms, her belly held safe against him as she buries her face in his neck. He smells like her and Donnie and smoke and rum and she 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩. Shoku doubts there's another scent as comforting as Rembrandt's.

She can hear her boy's whimpering before they even near their room, and she chuckles when a very antsy looking Minerva pokes her head out of her room. 

"They're still crying..." She pouts, a blanket around her shoulders, ears pushed back. Shoku sighs and Rem let's out a soft chuckle as he carefully sets the pregnant kitsune down and walks over to his daughter. 

"Come on, 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧, I'll help you back to bed while Mama sorts the boys."

Shoku smiles fondly as she watches Rem lead Minerva back into her room, before turning to her sons' room, pushing open the door with a sigh. 

"Alright, alright, I'm here, what's going- oh-!" She's interrupted by two little bodies running into each of her legs and gripping on, both boys whimpering and crying. Shoku looks down, just about able to see Heron looking up at her from under her stomach. She sighs and slowly crouches, huffing at the weight of her stomach as she kneels before her sons, letting them both clutch her. 

She knows Orion will be non-verbal, he always his when he gets this upset, so instead she turns to Heron, the little turtle hybrid sniffling against her chest. 

"Heron, tell me what happened, baby..." She speaks softly, expression gentle as she looks at her son, Donnie and Rem's son. 

"Bad shadow..." He whimpers, wide eyes teary and scared. Shoku tilts her head slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. 

"Bad shadow..?" Heron nods, then points to a corner of his and Orion's room. Shoku follows his finger, and... yeah that's definitely a shadow. The nightlight plugged into the wall casts a relatively intimidating looking shadow into the corner of the room, a box and some messy blankets on the top of the boys' wardrobe forming the dark mass stuck to the wall. 

Shoku sighs softly and stands with a groan, supporting herself on the little desk next to her before she regains her balance and walks over to the wardrobe, tidying up the offending blankets and carefully reaching up to take the box, barely able to bend over to drop it onto the floor. 

When she's upright again, she looks back to her sons, seeing them clutching one another tightly. Shoku chuckles as she staggers back over to them, her spine starting to ache a little more severely. 

"There, is that better?" Both boys nod, and their mother smiles, pressing kisses to both their foreheads before ushering them back over to their beds. "Come on, back to bed. It's late." 

She helps Orion back into his bed and tucks him in, placing the plushie Raph had bought him when he was born in his arms. She lightly pats his head, smoothing out the fluff on his ears before he sighs and turns over, eyes closed. Shoku chuckles at her son's action, before turning to see Heron sitting up in his bed, looking at her with those big, seemingly always anxious eyes. 

"Mama?" His voice is so little, still scared. She walks over and sits down on the edge of her son's bed, deciding to rest her feet and back for a moment. 

"Yes, honey..?"

"Are babies comim' soon?" The question caught her slightly off guard. She never told Heron or Orion she was having twins, just that they would be having a new addition to the family soon. 

"I... How did you..?"

"Is one them a star?"

This is getting weird now. Shoku just smiles softly and puts a hand on her son's chest. 

"It's late, Heron, go to sleep..." He let's out a little whine but lays down anyway and closes his eyes, clutching at the blanket he had been wrapped in when Donnie took him out of the tube. Shoku sighs, just about able to lift herself from the bed, walking slowly out of the boys' room. 

Rembrandt comes out of Minerva’s room at the same time, his expression turning bright when he sees her, pupils dilating. He's by her in a second, pressing his face to her neck and rubbing her stomach. She chuckles and wraps her arms around her husband as he churrs happily. 

"Your son is weird..." She mumbles against his neck, and Rem laughs softly, that sweet, pretty laugh she fell for. 

"He's not 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 mine. It's probably Donnie's genes that make him weird."

"Gasp! Lies and slander! From my own husband no less!" Both Shoku and Rembrandt turn to look at their over-dramatic spouse, coffee mug in hand and bandana pushed up onto his forehead. 

Rem grins and lets go of his wife, and then he is running at Donnie, steps silent as always. Donatello's cheeks flush and his eyes widen, before he's abandoning his coffee on the hallway table and fleeing, the leaf turtle close behind him. 

Shoku bites back a laugh as she watches the chase round the corner, before slowly following her husbands, turning just in time to see Rembrandt pinning Donnie to the floor, looking smug as ever while Donnie glares up at him in a poor attempt to hide his fluster. 

Shoku walks over and the moment she enters his vision, Rembrandt folds, purring like a happy cat as she grasps his chin and pulls him up into a kiss. 

She loves that idiot, even though his kids are actively destroying her insides. 

Chapter Text

Shoku struggles in the arms of the cloaked men, ears pinned back, eyes covered by a black cloth. She doesn't know where they're carrying her, only that the scent of danger is 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. 

She's dragged somewhere and suddenly sounds are echoing, and the air smells like burning wood and blood, clouding her senses before the blindfold is ripped from her face and she's thrown to the ground. The men are surrounding her again, and when she looks up there is a beast before her. 

He's huge, something between a dragon and a stag made of twisting, black smoke. There is no visible mouth on his face, and his eyes glow a vibrant reddish-pink. His voice echoes through the room and it shakes Shoku's ribcage, the low timbre commanding respect, 𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚. 

"What have you brought for me?"

The men in cloaks drop to their knees, one of them speaking up, keeping his head low. 

"Master! Lord of chaos and the hunt! We have brought for you a virgin kitsune, the purest of beings!" Shoku hates the way she's being spoken about, jaw tensing, and she sees the glowing eyes of the beast narrow, claws folding over one another where he lays. 

"What is your name?"

"My name-"

"Not you," His voice is somehow lower, almost a growl, the smoke that shrouds his body flicking in irritation. "The girl. What is your name, fox?"

Shoku stares up at the beast before her, his eyes no longer narrowed, tilting his head curiously as if trying to look into her very souls. 

She stutters her reply, or begins to at least. 

"Sho-"

Her head is suddenly shoved down roughly, and a voice scolds her. 

"You will 𝙗𝙤𝙬 your head when you-"

"𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧." His voice rumbles through the hall, a dangerous snarl that shakes the floor as the massive beast stands, eyes narrowed and glowing so much brighter than before, orange sparks going off within him like he's made of fire, the smoke that adorns him growing thicker and flicking more. 

The hand is quickly removed from Shoku's head, and she glances upwards at the towering god, looming high above the puny creatures considered to be his followers. 

"She is not some lesser spirit like the ones in your pantry. You will treat her with 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩," Then his eyes turn to her and she flinches. "As for you..." He's getting closer, each claw shaking the ground as he steps carefully, before leaning down right in front of Shoku, resting his massive head on the floor, eyes calm again, almost intrigued. "I did not get to hear your name the first time. I'm sorry you were interrupted. Please. Continue."

Shoku stares at him, breathing shakily, staring in wonder and terror at the god before her. 

"Sh-Shoku," She finally chokes out. "Shoku Kadi."

He makes a sound like a low purr, tilting his head a little. 

"You have a beautiful name," Then he stands again, glowing eyes narrowed once more, glowering down at the cloaked men. "So you believe this is what I want? A sacrifice?"

"Well we thought-"

"All I ask for is your loyalty. I did not ask for gold or power or young women murdered at my feet. You have disobeyed me and dishonored yourself and your comrades." His eyes are burning like fire as he stands protectively over the kitsune. 

The men flounder, a fearful murmur spreading between them. 

"Master, we only wanted to please you-"

"You think this is what pleases me? Killing women in the name of 'devotion'? None of you are worthy of the power I lend. Leave us."

"My Lord-"

"I said 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙪𝙨!"

His voice is thunder, and Shoku covers her ears with a whine to block out the sound. There is the brief sound of choking, and then the sound of something heavy dropping. Once. Twice. Eleven times. Shoku looks up when the noise stops, seeing eleven bodies laying, headless, in a growing pool of blood. 

Her eyes widen and she quickly looks away, panting with her hands on her ears. She feels burning eyes land on her and soften, before the thick presence in the air dampens, and the footsteps approaching her are almost silent, no longer booming and deafening. A large hand lands on Shoku's shoulder, she looks up, and the man before her is no beast. 

His iris is a bright, almost glowing, blue, his pupils dilated. His sclera is dark like his scales, white and bright red markings framing his eyes and jaw. Most of his body is hidden by a fur cloak, save for the toned, muscular arm stretched out towards Shoku, and the faintest hint of a dark plastron. 

He looks so gentle for a man so threatening, expression softened as he smiles. 

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Are you alright?" The warmth of his voice spreads through Shoku, burning her ears and making her throat dry. 

"Oh- uh- y-yes, I'm okay... Thank you... for... saving me..?" She said it like a question, not even sure of her fate now that she's no longer a sacrifice. Shoku takes the god's hand and he helps her stand, one hand moving to hold her waist. 

He tilts his head a little and smiles a little wider, hand moving up to Shoku's face. She shudders a little at his touch to her cheek, feeling him gently part her fur, and he almost purrs as he does. 

"You have freckles under your fur... My mother had freckles..."

Shoku feels herself flush and her eyes dart away from him, his touch warm against her cheek. Then it's gone and he's standing, helping Shoku to her feet. He's almost a foot taller, and looks down at her like she's something precious, something to be treated with care. 

Something like clarity shines in his eyes for a moment and his smile turns slightly sheepish, inverted canines just barely peaking out from between his lips. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," He bows as if Shoku is greater than him, as if a Lady was somehow above a godgod, and smiles up at her. "Those idiots already introduced me as the Lord of chaos and the hunt. You may call me Rembrandt."

Chapter Text

Well this place is... 

Ominous. 

A vast, black castle, once belonging to some entitled Lord, known only for his cruelty and his random disappearance after the "death" of his young apprentice. 

The house of a Lord, now the chambers of a god. 

High spires, black needles against the rising sun. Bricks laid neatly beside one another, stones carved intricately, each window blocked by a thick black curtain on the inside. 

Donatello has been here before, too many times. He takes a deep breath, running the beads through his fingers, counting each one with a prayer. 

He does not finish the final prayer. 

The doors open for him automatically, the scent of danger and sacrilege and rum and love washing over him. He keeps his hand on his bible, but he doesn't grip it as tightly as he used to. This place is cursed. It has to be. There's no other reason as to why Donatello's guard is dropped. 

He's here to kill the demon of this manor. 

Like he has tried countless times before. 

Nothing more. 

No one stops the priest, there's no one there to stop him. The god's followers don't worship on Friday's. It's their rest day. 

The doors into the throne room open easily, silently, warm smoke and soft spices mingle in the air. Donatello hates the way the sight before him makes his heart skip and his breath hitch, grip on his Rosary so tight the beads might crack. 

Blazing pink eyes, smokey wisps mixing with the air, flowing calmly, gently. What looks like strands of blue silk adorn the beast's antlers, little pink diamonds attached to the string at random. Massive, towering, sacrilegious, gentle. The beast lays, relaxed, silent, beautiful. 

And resting on his crossed front legs is 𝙝𝙚𝙧. 

She is the reason Donatello is here. 

Her soft body is elegantly draped over the beast's paws, pink strings adorning her wrists and hips, the white dress she wears covering her chest, two slits in the skirt accentuating the curve of her waist and hip. The choker around her neck, embellished with pink diamonds, signifying his ownership of her, her ownership of 𝙝𝙞𝙢. Fluffy ears twitch, hooded eyes trained on the priest before her. She knows what he is here for. 

"You're back..." The god speaks, voice softened, not daring to raise his voice in front of his high priestess, his wife. 

The priest glares at the god.

"You know why, demon."

A low rumble fills the hall. The monster is 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 at him. 

"Do I..?" His eyes narrow just barely, head cocked, almost 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 in his tone. Donatello's jaw tightens, and his eyes flick to the woman, to the smirk on her lips and the shine in her eyes. 

"Come with me and nothing bad has to happen."

The priestess scoffs, and the low, possessive, growl her god lets out almost makes Donatello's heart stop. 

"And why would I do that? I'm perfectly fine where I am now." Her tails flick by her husbands paws, the god moving his head down to press his nose to her lap, and Donatello watches as the fox weaves her fingers in the little wisps of smoke coming off of her lover. 

"There are people looking for you-"

"They have already been taken care of," Her voice is suddenly flat, stern, eyes no longer teasing and inviting, now cold. Her beast lets out a comforting churr, and Donatello has to bite the inside of his cheek in an effort to not reply to it. "Those bastards hunted me. I am sick and 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙 of being hunted. I'd rather be a huntress."

"You don't understand," Donatello steps forwards, hand on his rosary, ignoring the growl that echoes around the hall, shaking his very bones. "You are in 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 here. That thing is 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚-"

"You are not happy with your god, are you?" The beast interrupts him, the deep voice making him freeze, something instinctual making him want to run towards it, sprint towards the strength and safety that it holds. 

"What..?"

The high priestess smirks and stands from her husband's form, and Donatello watches in awe as smoke starts to disappear, shrinking and shifting to the form of something else, something the priest should 𝙣𝙤𝙩 find as attractive as he does. 

The god, draped in animal skins, with a choker similar to his wife's, picks up his foxes hand, his still towering form bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles, before turning to the stunned softshell standing dumbly in his domain. Donatello recognizes him immediately by his eyes, now piercing blue, the man that had first made him question his faith, the boy he had seen as a child stealing bread from the monastery pantry. 

The god smirks and stands tall again, beginning to walk over to the dumbfounded priest. 

"You didn't answer my question," He's so close, Donatello can smell burning oak and alcohol and 𝙨𝙚𝙭, wanting to turn and flee and wait for the god to catch him, but stuck to the spot by the sheer 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙮 of this 𝙢𝙖𝙣. "Are you not happy with your god?"

The priest can barely speak. 

"I- I don't know what you mean-"

"Yes you do..." A hand reaches up to cup his jaw, a calloused thumb tracing the marking on his chin. 

"You've cursed me-" The god laughs, and his wife appears at his side, her padded fingertips ghosting over the hand that grips Donatello's bible. 

"We don't set curses," She's too close, chest pressed against the priest's arm. "Not the one you seem to think we've given you, at least..."

Donatello can't breathe, glowing blue eyes and soft fur occupying his mind and body and 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙙 soul. It's too much and not enough and-

"S-stop-"

All touches leave him and Donatello can breathe again, but at the same time he is 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙. The silence that fills the air as he breathes is 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 and the soft eyes that watch him, 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 him, makes his heart 𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚. 

"You have a choice to make, Donatello," He never told the god his name. "You can go back to your church, go back to your false god, but you can never return here. 𝙊𝙧," Donatello meets his gaze, that burning, 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜, gaze. "You can stay here. With us. You will be safe, and cared for better than any monastery can provide. This is 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 choice. We won't force you."

Donatello stays silent for a long time. 

He isn't hesitating, he's trying to will himself to 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚. 

He drops his bible, abandons his rosary, and throws himself against dark scales and pale fur. 

Chapter Text

It's been... how many months now? Eight. She thinks. 

Eight months. Shoku would've had a baby by now. 𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙩'𝙨 baby. But... 

That didn't exactly work out. 

Shoku stares at the ceiling, her husbands sleeping peacefully next to her. Her hand rests on her soft stomach, just above her womb. Eight months. 

She sits up slowly, careful not to disturb her spouses. It's been eight months since they've touched one another. Now Rembrandt barely touches her at all. He's more cautious now, he even treats Donatello more gently than usual, touch feather light and barely there, like he's afraid one wrong move will cause everything to shatter. 

He is afraid. 

Shoku tightens her grip on the duvet as she looks over at her husband. He looks so tired these days. This is the first time he's really slept since it happened. Donnie put sleeping pills in his tea. 

He hasn't touched her properly in so long. She wants him to touch her, hold her, make her feel desirable again. 

But... 

She lost their baby. And Shoku 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 it was Rembrandt's because she didn't sleep with Donnie for over three months, just so she would know for 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 that it was Rem's.

He's not touching her because she lost his baby. 

She 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 him to touch her. 

Shoku straddles Rem, hears him groan a little in his sleep when her hips press down against his. Rembrandt's eyes flutter open, brow furrowing slightly as he looks up at his wife, voice hoarse and whispered. 

"Shoku..?"

"Why won't you have sex with me?"

Rembrandt's eyes widen and he flushes deeply, inhaling sharply as his entire body tenses from surprise, no longer groggy. 

"I- What?"

"We haven't 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 done anything in over nine months. I know you're not having trouble getting it up 'cause Don's been walking with a limp for three weeks straight. So, why won't you have sex with me anymore?"

Rembrandt's expression turns sad, almost grief stricken, and he struggles to find his words. 

"Shoku, I..."

"Is it because of the miscarriage?" Shoku feels Rem tense under her and she let's out a bitter laugh. "It is, isn't it?"

Rembrandt swallows and tries to talk, but there are already tears in Shoku's eyes. 

"I'm-"

"Am I gross now? Is that it? I- I lost our kid and now you don't want me?" His hands move to her arms, and he can't get a word in before she's spiralling further. "Am I not desirable anymore? Am- am I broken now? Why- why don't you 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚-"

"I was 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙!" Rembrandt is barely able to force the words out, teeth clenched, eyes shining with tears. Shoku freezes. 

"You're- 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩?"

She knew that Rem had troubles with getting intimate with her or Donnie, he was constantly scared that he would hurt them, but Shoku thought that he had gotten over his fear. He hadn't shared concerns like that since before they got married. 

"I- I am 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙, Shoku," His eyes flick away from her, brow furrowed, glowing eyes filled with shame. "I'm scared that if we- if 𝙮𝙤𝙪 get pregnant with my kid again, then something will go wrong, and you'll get hurt or- or worse. I'm scared that if you carry to term then something will go wrong with the birth and I'll 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 you. My birth was hard on my mother. I- I almost 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 her. I just... I 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 want you to go through that too. I'm sorry."

Shoku stares at Rembrandt for a long time, tears still dripping down her face, before she glares at her husband and grabs his jaw with both hands and lifts his face, forcing him to look at her. 

"Dumbass! Why didn't you tell me?!" Her voice was a little too loud, and Donnie grumbled from where he lay under multiple blankets, the kitsune and leaf turtle glancing over to make sure their softshell didn't wake, watching as he just rolls over on his side. Shoku then looks back to Rembrandt, voice hushed and strained as she speaks through her teeth. 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rem's hands come up to hold her wrists, thumbs pressed to her pulse. 

"Because I didn't want you to worry. I know how much you want to have children with me but... I don't want you getting hurt because of them." His expression is apologetic, eyes soft as Rembrandt looks at Shoku, and she looks back at him, blank for a moment, before she let's out a shaky sigh and hugs him, arms around his neck, face pressed to his throat. 

"You idiot... I worry about you already. You not saying anything made me worry 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚." Rembrandt let's out a soft churr and wraps his arms around his wife's waist, holding her close in his lap. 

"I'm sorry..." Shoku huffs a short laugh and shakes her head, pulling back to hold her husband's face again. 

"You are 𝙨𝙤 dumb sometimes, you know that?" Rembrandt chirps and tilts his face into Shoku's touch. 

"I'm-"

"Don't you 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚 apologize again, Remmie. If you do I'll get Donnie to cook dinner again." There's a scoff from beside them, and Shoku and Rem watch as Donnie rolls over, head poking out of his blanket cocoon. 

"My cooking is fantastic, thank you very much..." He glares at his spouses groggily, pouting saltily. Rembrandt laughs sweetly, wiping his eyes before squeezing Shoku close to him, his head resting on her bare chest as he looks towards his husband. 

"Of course, 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧... You make a very good instant ramen." Donatello just grumbles, reluctantly leaving his blanket haven to drape himself over his warm mates. 

"You two can't whisper for shit..." Rembrandt hums and wraps an arm around his husband, pulling him in closer until he has both his spouses in his lap. 

The silence is warm and comfortable, three hearts beat in sync, coloured scents intertwining in the air as they embrace and touch and love. 

Rembrandt's eyes meet Shoku's, his forehead pressed to hers, hand on her waist just barely tightening, thumb brushing over her stomach. 

"I want to try again..." His voice is soft, softer than the smooth tone he usually uses. 

"Can we please try again..?"

Chapter Text

Maybe this 𝙬𝙖𝙨 a good idea after all. 

Rembrandt had been skeptical when Donatello told him he had started trying to grow marijuana. Rem had been around weed a lot when he was living in New Orleans. Nana would smoke it after a stressful day at the clinic or after a difficult birth, and the ground up dried leaves would often wind up as an offering on Ma'man Brigit's alter in the hall of his childhood home. Some of the kids in his old high school got into it when they were absolutely too young to, blabbing on about different strains and laced joints. He knew the scent well, but Donnie had assured him that there was no way his weed could get laced since he was growing it himself. 

Rem had just sighed and nodded and wished his boyfriend luck in trying to grow the difficult plant. 

And then Donnie actually did. 

He had been so proud, presenting the thriving little bush to Shoku and Rem, offering up the idea of smoking some of it together in celebration. Shoku had been hesitant, afraid that it might get her back into old habits, but Donnie had just smiled excitedly and explained exactly how and why it wouldn't, along with all the positive effects it could actually have. 

Rem opted out, the three of them being high together was sure to cause chaos. One of them had to be sober to make sure the other two didn't get into trouble. And Rembrandt was more than happy to fulfill that role. 

And so here he was, sitting cross legged in the dimly lit den Donnie had set up in his lab. Said softshell was currently basking under a heat lamp, purring happily with his vulnerable carapace exposed. In Rembrandt's lap, was Shoku, looking up at him with an expression somewhere between awe and dazed, her eyes just slightly red, pupils almost swallowing the pale blue of her eyes. 

The spliff is still smoking in the ashtray, the air tinged with the scent of the burning leaves, the silence warm and comfortable. Shoku's hands reach up and hold Rembrandt's face, squeezing his cheeks slightly. The mutant chuckles softly, his own hand moving to hold her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse. 

"Yes, 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧?"

"You're so prettyyy..." Her syllables are drawn out, a noticeable purr in her voice as she stares up at her boyfriend. Rembrandt flushes a little and laughs, smile wide and bright. 

"Thank you, you're very pretty too, honey." Shoku smiles back at him, her tails wagging as Rem starts to pet her face. 

"You think so?" Rembrandt nods, expression soft and loving. 

"Mhm. I know so."

Shoku giggles and sits up, moving to straddle Rem's lap, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso and squeezing as she buries her face in his neck, letting out a little yip when Rem scratches behind her ears. Donnie perks up at the sound, sitting up from under his heat lamp, before crawling over to his partners.

He chirps as he presses his face to Rem's neck, licking at the leaf turtle's artery. Rembrandt chuckles and tilts his head to give Donnie more room. 

It isn't long before Shoku and Donnie are playfully shoving at each other for a place on Rembrandt's lap. Rem just huffs fondly before grabbing Shoku by the scruff of her neck, and yanking Donnie back by his mask tails. 

"Enough, enough. I have enough room for both of you." His voice is playfully firm, looking between Shoku and Donnie until they calm down. 

Once the two menaces relax, Rem brings them both into his arms, holding them close with both their heads nestled under his jaw. 

"See? You both fit perfectly. Just how you're supposed to." There's a notable amount of pride in Rembrandt's voice, and Shoku playfully licks his cheek, and of course, Rem let's her. They sit like that for a while in the comfortable warmth of the den, before Donnie shifts a little, pressing his cheek to Rem's jaw. 

"Remmie..?" His voice is small and soft, and Rembrandt hums in acknowledgement. 

"Yes, 𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚?"

"Can we try something..? If you're okay with it..." Rem can hear the nerves in his partners tone, and he looks towards the softshell, watching his dilated pupils. 

"Of course, 𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚. What d'you want to try?" Donatello seems to hesitate for a moment, his cheeks flushed slightly. 

"Do you know what shotgunning is?" Rem hums and raises an eyebrow at Donnie, a slight smile pulling at his lips. 

"Vaguely, yes. Why do you ask?"

"I wanna try it with you..." It's so rare that Donnie is small and vulnerable like this, allowing all his walls and anxieties to come down, and Rembrandt can't help but admire how cute his boyfriend is. "You'll probably get a little high from it so you don't have to do it but-"

"I'll do it," He interrupts Donnie before the softshell can continue his rant, chuckling when his eyes widen. "I want to try shotgunning with you, Donnie."

It takes a moment for Donatello to process, before he grins widely and grabs the spliff and lighter, sparking the end of the blunt and taking a long drag, holding it in his lungs as he leans forwards. Rem chuckles at his boyfriend's eager antics, before pressing his lips to Donnie's, hearing Shoku let out a little yip in her weed induced nap. 

Donnie's lips smell like weed and grape juice, and when the softshell's tongue swipes against Rem's bottom lip, he obliges and opens his mouth. Donatello exhales and Rem inhales, the smoke hitting the back of his throat harshly, before the feeling smooths out as Rembrandt breaths in deeply. Donatello's eyes are wide and curious as he pulls back from the kiss, watching intently as Rem's pretty eyes flutter for a moment, before he exhales, thick smoke flowing out his mouth, and Donnie feels his face flush before he buries his face in Rembrandt's neck. 

Rem just about registers Donnie's face in his neck as he adjusts to the haze in his mind, a deep exhaustion rising in him before he squeezes Shoku and Donnie close to him, purring like a happy cat. Donnie squeaks as he's squeezed, and Shoku's ears flick as she sleeps. 

"Perfect..." Rembrandt's voice is low and gentle, his exhaustion clear as he lightly nips at Donnie's neck. "You're both perfect..."

A wide smile spreads across Donnie's face and he nuzzles into his partners neck. He's so glad he grew that weed. 

This was absolutely a good idea. 

Chapter Text

It's been too long since she slept in this bed. Shoku had almost forgotten the scent of the washing detergent Raph used for the lair's washing, had almost forgotten the feeling of the silk sheets Donnie bought her so her fur wouldn't get knotted. She regrets not taking the Knuckles plushie Rembrandt bought with her. Then again she didn't have much of a choice. Everything happened so fast and suddenly she was with her mother, learning to harness the untamed power within her. 

It all happened so fast and suddenly she was telling Donnie she loved him through Rembrandt's mind.

She can't sleep. It's late. Almost 4AM. Shoku tried texting Donnie but not even HE was awake at this time.

It was honestly starting to piss her off. Since when did Donnie have a normal sleep schedule?? She'd missed so much. Raph got a girlfriend, Mikey started growing hair, Leo was finally in therapy. Shit even April had changed. she'd discovered her sexuality, explored it, and gotten with Cassandra all in the time span of two years. Then again, she is April O'Neil after all. She can do fucking anything.

Shoku can't sleep. At all. Her tails flick and she shivers when a random wave of unease washes over her, and for a few seconds she thinks she's about to spiral into some deep hole of despair but as she turns over-

"JESUS FUCK REM- How long have you been there for?!" Shoku practically jumps to her feet on her bed, tails sticking up rigidly, puffed up as her ears swivel as if searching for impending danger. 
Rembrandt stands by Shoku's open door, looking a little bashful and surprised, his blue eyes glowing in the dark, pupils dilated as he looks at Shoku.

"Oh- uh- not long I swear! Somethin'... felt off. Came to make sure nothing was happening." His words aren't convincing, and his eyes flick away from Shoku's gaze, first down to the plushie he bought that is currently held tightly against Shoku's chest, and then away again to some random spot on the wall. 

The Yokai's eyes narrow as she stares at the mutant standing in her doorway, pouting a little as she observes him. So far, Rembrandt is the only one Shoku has met with footsteps quiet enough to avoid being detected by her sensitive hearing, even her mother made more noise than him. No wonder he had snuck up on her so easily.

"Yeahhh I don't believe that. D'you have a nightmare?" 

The deepening furrow in Rembrandt's brow and the slight squaring of his shoulders tells Shoku all she needs to know.

"You don't have to worry about it. I'm fine, renarde."

Shoku just huffs and pulls her blanket around her shoulders, beaconing Rem closer with an outstretched hand.

"Come on. Come here, Remmie." She coaxes him over like a puppy, and Rembrandt is hopeless to disobey at the sound of that simple nickname, his tail wagging adorably. 

Rem settles himself in Shoku's arms, face buried in her neck, strong arms around her waist. He basks in Shoku's warmth, breathes in her scent, brain finally empty.

"Was it him..?" Shoku's voice is quiet, soft and encouraging, gently prompting the mutant to give her some kind of detail about his nightmare. She feels his entire body tense.

"No."

The kitsune hums softly, tracing circles on Rembrandt's shoulder with her finger tips, hoping he can't sense the gentle spell Shoku's mother taught her.

"What was it about then?"

Rembrandt is silent for a while, his arms tight around Shoku's waist, and there's a barely perceptible shake in his breathing.

"You..." 

Shoku's brow furrows, sighing as she moves her hand to scratch at Rembrandt's scalp, hearing the low churr he lets out at the gentle petting, feeling his muscles relax slightly.

"Same as last time, or different?" 

Rembrandt is quiet and tense again, his shoulders starting to shake as he holds the fox closer, a slight dampness spreading over Shoku's shoulder. 

"Please... Please don't leave again..."

Hearing that usually strong, steady voice, shaking and weak makes Shoku's heart shatter, and she holds Rembrandt even closer, her tails curling around his waist as she cradles the sobbing turtle. She buries her face in Rembrandt's neck, breathing in his scent as she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

"I won't. I won't ever leave again, Remmie. I promise. I promise," The sob that Rem lets out at those simple words has Shoku's eyes stinging with tears, her shoulders starting to shake. "I'll always be with you. You won't ever be alone again, Rem. I'll always be with you." 

They hold each other closer than close as they cry and tremble, needing to make up for all the time spent apart. Their heart rates and breathing sync up, and the trembling slowly ceases.

It's all finally peaceful, and Shoku finally starts to feel sleepy. She lets out a soft yip, nuzzling her face into Rembrandt's neck.

"Mm... 'm sleepy..." Her grip on Rem tightens as he starts to relax, looking up at her with soft, glowing eyes.

"Mhm... You should rest..." Rembrandt's voice is slightly hoarse, and he looks away for a moment, looking down, then back at Shoku's face. "I can leave if you want..?"

Shoku immediately shakes her head, face pressing more into Rem's neck, arms tight around him, tails wrapping around his leg.

"M-mh. Stay. It's better when you stay..." 

Rembrandt smiles at those small words, holding Shokus close as he turns them both onto their sides, cradling Shoku close to him. They're both content in each other's hold, in each other's scent.

It isn't long before Shoku passes out with her face pressed to Rembrandt's plastron. he watches her for a while, lifting a shaky hand up to gently pet the kitsune's soft ear. Her fur is warm and soft, and Rem presses his face into her hair, breathing her in. He missed this. Missed the feeling of warmth. It's been too long since he truly felt safe, and here, now, with Shoku in his arms, there's finally the sense of peace that was ripped from him not that long ago.

Rembrandt finally falls asleep with Shoku in his arms, keeping her protected against his form.