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Tea Time┆TMNT: BayLeo x FemReader
00┆PROLOGUE
ARC 1: 01
ARC 1: 02
ARC 1: 03
ARC 1: 04
ARC 1: 05
ARC 1: 06
ARC 1: 07 ⚠︎
ARC 1: 08
ARC 1: 09
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ARC 1: 12
ARC 1: 13
ARC 2: 01
ARC 2: 02
ARC 2: 03
ARC 2: 04
ARC 2: 05
ARC 2: 06
ARC 2: 06
Review
"Now," Master Splinter said, his tone lightening, "would you like some tea while we wait?"
Y/N blinked at him, startled by the unexpected offer. But as the tension in her shoulders eased, she found herself nodding. "Yes please... I'd like that very much actually."
▼▼▼▼
The kitchen was small and dimly lit, the soft hiss of the boiling water on the stove the only sound cutting through the silence. Y/N sat at the worn wooden table, her fingers absently tracing invisible patterns on its surface.
The air smelled faintly of tea leaves, but the stillness made her hyper-aware of every sound: the subtle creak of the chair as she shifted, the faint boiling of water, and the calm, deliberate movements of Master Splinter as he prepared tea.
He moved with a serene rhythm, selecting tea leaves from a delicate container, placing them into the well-worn kettle.
Y/N fidgeted in her chair, her nerves prickling under the weight of the quiet.
She wanted to make a good impression, especially since this was the father of the turtles. The weight of that realization made her sink deeper into her nerves.
She stole glances at him, her gaze darting away whenever he so much as turned in her direction.
This is so awkward.
What do I even say?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Master Splinter’s calm, steady voice. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his back still to her as he tended to the tea.
Σ(⊙▽⊙")
Y/N straightened reflexively, her spine snapping into alignment as if she’d been caught slouching in class. “Oh, um—” The words didn’t come immediately; her brain, tangled in her own thoughts, took a second too long to catch up.
She glanced down at her hands, the cast on her dominant arm a glaring reminder of her current state. Guilt prickled at the edges of her mind as she wiggled her fingers slightly, testing their mobility. A faint twinge of pain made her wince.
“I-I’m fine!” she finally managed, a slightly forced smile stretching across her face. She lifted her uninjured arm and flexed, showing off an unimpressive lack of muscle.
“See? Strong as ever!”
The absurdity of her gesture hit her almost immediately, and she quickly lowered her arm, her cheeks flushing as she muttered, “I mean... I’m okay.”
Master Splinter’s whiskers twitched, a soft chuckle escaping him as he carefully placed tea leaves into the kettle.
“It is good to see you so energetic."
When the tea was ready, he poured the steaming liquid into two cups and brought one to the table, setting it in front of her with deliberate care. Y/N nodded quickly in thanks, muttering, “Thank you..” as he took the seat across from her, carrying his own cup.
Master Splinter sat with an effortless grace that made Y/N feel like a bundle of awkward angles.
She adjusted her posture, straightening her back and mimicking his composed demeanor, but her hand clutched the cup tightly as she kept her gaze firmly on the tea. The warmth of the cup seeped into her palm, grounding her slightly, though the silence still pressed down heavily.
She scrambled for something to say, but her mind felt blank. He reminded her so much of Leonardo—the quiet, steady presence, the way he seemed completely unbothered by the silence.
She envied that, wishing she could find the same ease instead of this awkward tension always clawing at her.
“It is rare to find my sons so unified,” Master Splinter said, his voice breaking the silence effortlessly.
Y/N blinked, lifting her gaze to him with a confused expression. “Sorry?” she asked, tilting her head.
Master Splinter stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Leonardo was deeply worried when he brought you here. It is not often that he allows his emotions to show so openly.”
“Leo? But... what do you mean?” she asked sheepishly, feeling a little foolish for needing clarification.
Master Splinter set his cup down gently, folding his hands in his lap.
“He never left your side,” Master Splinter continued. “Donatello would ask for something, and before he could finish, Leonardo was already bringing it. It was... quite unlike him.”
Y/N’s fingers brushed against the edge of her cup, her gaze dropping to her lap as her shoulders eased unconsciously. The idea of someone worrying about her like that was both foreign and oddly comforting.
A soft warmth bloomed in her chest, but almost immediately, guilt began to creep in around the edges.
Why would someone go through so much trouble for me?
(AU: BECAUSE YOU'RE HIS WIFEEE ٩(๑ `н´๑)۶)
Her brows knitted together, and her voice came out in a soft murmur. “I didn’t mean to make him worry... or any of you."
Master Splinter studied her for a moment. “You misunderstand,” he said gently, stroking his beard. “This is not about trouble or obligation. You are important to Leonardo, and because of that, you are important to all of us.”
She looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with disbelief. She had always been used to shouldering things on her own, assuming her presence was more of a burden than anything else.
“I... I’ll do my best,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “To repay you all, I mean. Somehow.”
“There is no need for repayment,” Master Splinter replied, his tone firm but reassuring. “If you wish to show your gratitude, focus on your healing. Be healthy. Be happy. That will be enough.”
His words carried such gentle authority that Y/N could only nod, her resolve firming as if she’d been entrusted with a sacred mission. “I promise,” she said quietly, her voice filled with determination.
Master Splinter chuckled, tapping the table gently. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”
Y/N quickly obeyed, lifting the cup to her lips with her uninjured hand. The tea was warm and earthy, and she let out a soft hum of approval as the flavor washed over her. “This is really good,” she murmured, licking her lips absently.
Master Splinter’s whiskers twitched in amusement, but he remained focused on his own tea.
There was a lingering question in her mind, one that had been there since he first arrived. She hesitated, unsure how to bring it up. Her fingers tightened around the teacup, and she bit her lip.
Master Splinter noticed her hesitation.
"You may ask anything if you wish."
Taking a deep breath, Y/N straightened in her chair, meeting his gaze with determination. "Did you... marry a turtle?"
The question hung in the air like an absurd punchline, the quiet only broken by the faint whistle of the kettle behind them.
Master Splinter blinked, his calm demeanor briefly cracking as a look of surprise flickered across his face. Then, his lips twitched, and a quiet laugh rumbled in his chest.
"I see you are feeling well enough to ask bold questions," he said, his tone light and amused.
Y/N's face turned scarlet as she stammered, "I-I didn't mean—!"
Master Splinter raised a hand to calm her, his eyes sparkling with humor. "Do not worry. It is a fair question, given the circumstances. But no, I did not marry a turtle. Let us leave it at that."
Her lips parted to respond, but she quickly snapped them shut, nodding instead.
What the heck was I thinking?!
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Y/N: *flexes arm* Dw! I'm so strong! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )
Us: Strong? Where?? (╭ರ_•́) | › ⌕
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 2: 05
Review
"Ah, geez," Raph shifted uncomfortably and pushed off the wall. "...If ya' don't let us help, you're jus' bein' stubborn. So... uh... stop cryin' already. You're makin' us look bad."
His comment, as blunt as it was, made her laugh through her tears. It was shaky and weak, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Her shoulders sagging as she let out a long, trembling sigh.
Finally, she whispered, "Okay.." Her voice was barely audible, but the weight of her exhaustion and relief carried through. She looked up at the brothers, her tear-streaked face full of gratitude.
"...Thank you..."
▼▼▼▼
Once the tears had dried and Y/N had managed to wipe her face, the weight of embarrassment pressed down on her like a thick, suffocating blanket. Her head remained bowed, her hands clutching the blanket tightly.
She was far too ashamed to look up.
I can't believe I just cried like that...
The awkwardness was suffocating. Her cheeks burned with the realization of just how she’d acted moments ago, and her chest tightened as she fought the urge to apologize again. She clenched the blanket tighter, silently hoping that the ground would just swallow her up.
Before anyone could figure out what to say, a new presence filled the doorway.
“Is everything alright here?”
The voice was calm, deep, and carried a weight of authority that immediately drew everyone’s attention. Y/N lifted her head and froze.
Standing there, draped in a simple robe, was a small rat with an air of royalty. His eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly on her tear-streaked face before settling on Leo.
“Father.” Leo said, bowing deeply.
F—Father?!
Y/N blinked rapidly.
This is their dad..?!
She glanced at Leo, then back at the elder rat. The resemblance was nowhere to be seen.
Though, now that she thought about it, Leo’s calm, steady demeanor made sense.
Feeling the need to follow Leo’s example, Y/N scrambled to stand. She gave a deep, awkward bow, “Thank you for letting me stay here! I—uh—I really appreciate it!”
Master Splinter’s whiskers twitched, a faint smile softening his otherwise composed face. “You are welcome here,” he said gently, inclining his head. “But there is no need to strain yourself. Please, sit.”
“R-right,” she mumbled, sinking back onto the couch with a nervous laugh. Her hands fidgeted with the blanket in her lap, and she avoided eye contact.
Right...
Well, this is totally normal...
Master Splinter turned his attention to the turtle brothers. “What is the current situation?” he asked.
Donnie stepped forward, his tech flickering faintly on his wrist as he gestured toward Y/N. “We were just discussing helping her move her belongings here. It’s clear she’ll need time to recover properly.”
Master Splinter nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to Y/N briefly. “Then what are you waiting for?” he said, his tone light but firm. “Go and retrieve her belongings. She should have everything she needs to feel comfortable here.”
Eh—?
Now?
Her gaze darted around as the conversation swirled above her head.
She could sense the decision being made before the words she wanted to say were fully formed. The turtles were already exchanging glances and nods. Her stomach churned at the idea of them running off to handle her things after all they’d already done for her.
“W-wait,” she murmured, her voice soft and hesitant. “You don’t have to do this right now. It’s late, and you’re probably already tired—"
Her words were drowned out by Mikey’s enthusiastic exclamation. “Easy peasy! We’ll have all your stuff here before you know it, dudette!” He gave her a dazzling grin before bounding toward the exit like he’d just been given the best mission of his life.
Y/N’s hand shot up, an attempt to stop him. “No, really, I don’t mind waiting. You don’t have to—”
“Nah, Mikey’s right,” Raph cut in, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s just get this done.” He strode to the exit and Y/N’s protests faltered.
“But—” she tried again, glancing desperately toward Donnie, who was already adjusting his wrist-mounted device, likely planning out the logistics in his head.
“It’s the most efficient plan,” Donnie said as if her concerns hadn’t even registered. “We retrieve everything now, and you’ll be settled faster.”
Y/N opened her mouth again, only for Leo to kneel down in front of her again, cutting her off mid-protest. His calm blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the chaotic energy in the room stilled.
“We’ll be back soon,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “Just stay here and rest, okay?”
Leo stood smoothly, listing instructions as though she might forget how to exist as he began walking backward toward the exit as well. “There’s food in the fridge and water in the cooler.”
"Don’t strain yourself. If you need anything, Sensei is here. We won’t be long.”
“W-wait—” she tried again, reaching out instinctively.
“Raph, we’re gonna need those muscles of yours,” Donnie chimed in, fiddling with his wrist tech as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “Start prepping the van.”
“We’ll be quick!” Mikey shouted, giving her an exaggerated salute before darting out.
“Gotcha D,” Raph rolled his shoulders and trailed behind the others. “Don’t wait up, Y/N.”
And just like that, they were gone, leaving Y/N frozen in place, her outstretched hand still in the air. She stared at the empty space, her brain struggling to catch up with what had just happened.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint swish of Master Splinter’s robe as he took a seat nearby.
∑╭( ; ๐_๐)╮
Did they just… leave me?
…Alone??
…With their dad???
The weight of the situation hit her like a brick, and she slowly turned her gaze toward Master Splinter, who was now seated calmly in a chair across from her.
The faint twitch of his whiskers suggested he found the situation amusing.
Y/N swallowed hard, her nerves prickling. “Um... I-I hope I’m not... intruding too much,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, thank you for letting me stay, but if it’s too much trouble—”
“You are not intruding,” Master Splinter interrupted, his tone warm yet decisive. “This is your home now. My sons do not take such decisions lightly, and neither do I.”
His words carried a quiet authority that made her pause.
Now I see where Leo got it from...
She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. There was something about his presence—so calm, so steady—that made her feel oddly at ease despite the awkwardness of the situation.
“Now,” Master Splinter said, his tone lightening, “would you like some tea while we wait?”
Y/N blinked at him, startled by the unexpected offer. But as the tension in her shoulders eased, she found herself nodding. “Yes please… I’d like that very much actually.”
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Splinter: *walks in the room*
Leo: Father! (シ_ _)シ
Y/N: Something ain't adding up.. (⚆ᗝ⚆)
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
Merry Christmas everyone! Hopefully I can get another chapter out before New Years, but my family is hosting this year. I’ll try my best!!
Happy Holidays!
ARC 2: 04
Review
"Alright, enough of that," Raph grumbled, his tone as gruff as ever.
Y/N glanced away, her cheeks burning as Leo pulled back, clearing his throat awkwardly. The atmosphere shifted as Donnie stepped in.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Once she finished drinking, Y/N leaned back into the couch, her voice still scratchy but more audible now. "Not really..."
Donnie adjusted his glasses, glancing at Leo. "You're the one who found her. You should be the one to explain."
Leo's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighed and met her eyes. "I found you at the bottom of the stairs outside your apartment," he said quietly. "You were unconscious."
"You've been out for over a day."
Her eyes widened, and she gasped, sitting up straighter despite the immediate protest of her aching muscles. "A whole day?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with panic. "I—How—"
Donnie quickly chimed in, his tone calm but insistent. "Your body was in a rebound sleep. It's how the body copes with extreme exhaustion and stress. Essentially, it was forcing you to recover the rest you've been depriving it of."
"But... I can't just rest," she murmured, shaking her head. "I need to work. I need to pay rent. And the bakery—I still have boxes to move, papers to sign—"
Her voice grew frantic as her fingers started counting off each task, her healthy hand trembling. Her face grew more distressed with every word, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to keep up with the storm of responsibilities.
“Y/N.” Leo’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, steady but firm. He didn’t move closer but leaned slightly forward, his calm gaze locking onto hers. “Stop. Take a breath.”
Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her wide eyes searching his face for some kind of reassurance.
"We've been talking," Leo began, glancing briefly at his brothers for support. "And we think... it might be better if you stayed with us. At least until you've had time to recover and get back on your feet."
"Stay here?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. Her gaze darted between the brothers, her confusion evident.
Mikey piped up, his voice softer than usual. "You’re not just gonna magically heal if you keep pushing yourself, dudette. You need a break. Like, a real one."
Donnie adjusted his glasses, "From a logical standpoint, it’s clear your current circumstances aren’t sustainable. If you continue at this pace, your health will only deteriorate further. That’s not just bad for you—it’s counterproductive to everything you’re trying to accomplish."
Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came out.
"But, I can't." she whispered finally, shaking her head.
"If I quit my job to rest, I'll miss rent. If I miss rent, my apartment will be gone. And everything I own is still in my apartment and the bakery—I haven't even moved everything yet. How am I supposed to—"
Her words tumbled out in a rush, her mind racing far ahead of her exhausted body. The weight of her situation pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless.
Leo straightened, his tone unwavering. "Then, we’ll help you figure it out."
Donnie added, “If selling your items is the issue, I can help. I’m pretty good with logistics and online marketplaces. We could organize everything and make sure you get your money's worth. That way, the money will be there for when you’re ready to go back.”
Mikey immediately perked up, a grin spreading across his face. “And I’m, like, super strong! I can carry all those boxes from your bakery and apartment, no problem!”
Raph snorted, leaning casually against the wall. “Yeah, sure, with those arms? Let me handle it.”
Mikey placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. “Bro, these guns are certified weapons of mass destruction!” He flexed dramatically, causing Raph to groan.
“Yeah, weapons of mass embarrassment,” Raph muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
“Ridiculous,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a faint warmth. She shook her head lightly, unable to stop the small smile that crept across her face.
Her gaze lowered to her lap, the lingering smile fading as she thought about what they were offering. When she lifted her eyes again, they met Leo’s. His steady, earnest gaze held hers, the sincerity in his expression so unshakable it made all of her thoughts fly out the window.
The quiet confidence he exuded told her, without words, that they had things under control. She almost felt foolish for doubting, for overthinking, because the way he looked at her made it impossible to believe otherwise.
She couldn’t find the words to argue.
Hesitating, her voice barely audible, she asked, “Why...?”
Why go through so much effort for someone you've only known for a day?
The question cut through the moment, making all the brothers pause. Mikey, who had been about to retort to Raph, froze mid-motion, his grin faltering slightly as he turned to look at her.
After a beat, Mikey broke the silence with a soft, almost incredulous laugh. “Why not? We’re friends, right?”
The simple response took her by surprise. She blinked, her thoughts flashing back to her earlier words—to the moment when Donnie had asked her who they were, and she had, almost instinctively, called them her friends.
Could it really be that simple?
She didn’t know how to react. The room fell into an almost sacred stillness as her gaze drifted back to her lap. Her vision blurred, and before she realized it, tears began to drip onto the blanket she clutched. She sniffled quietly, her hand moving to wipe her face, but the tears kept coming.
The moment the first tear slipped, the turtles froze as if someone had hit a giant pause button on the scene. Y/N quickly lowered her head into her lap, trying to hide the tears that streaked her face.
Hiccup..
"I’m s-sorry," Y/N suddenly blurted out, her voice barely audible through her hiccups. She didn’t lift her head, her words muffled as she tried to explain. "I-I don’t know why I’m c-crying… I just—" Another hiccup interrupted her, and she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders trembling under the weight of her emotions.
The silence in the room grew thick.
Mikey, for once, didn’t have a quick comment or joke; instead, his eyes widened, and he looked to his brothers for help, mouthing, "What do we do?!"
Donnie fidgeted, his hands nervously adjusting the edge of his wrist-mounted tech. His gaze darted from Y/N to Leo, then to Mikey, as though searching for a manual on "How to Comfort a Crying Woman."
Even Raph, who normally carried himself with an unshakable presence, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact.
Leo, sitting closest to her, looked especially conflicted. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, an almost imperceptible hesitation as if debating whether to pat her shoulder or leave her space.
His lips pressed into a firm line, his gaze locked on her trembling frame. But ultimately, his hand faltered, retreating back to his side. He shifted in place, his usual composure giving way to an awkward stiffness.
"Ah, geez," Raph shifted uncomfortably and pushed off the wall. "...If ya' don't let us help, you're jus' bein' stubborn. So... uh... stop cryin' already. You're makin' us look bad."
His comment, as blunt as it was, made her laugh through her tears. It was shaky and weak, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Her shoulders sagging as she let out a long, trembling sigh.
Finally, she whispered, “Okay..” Her voice was barely audible, but the weight of her exhaustion and relief carried through. She looked up at the brothers, her tear-streaked face full of gratitude.
“...Thank you...”
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Leo: *wants to pat the hot crying woman*
Leo: *clenches fist* No... I musn't...
Us: (ﾉꐦ ⊙曲ఠ)ﾉ彡┻━┻
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 2: 03
Review
"Damn...," she whispered weakly, her voice cracking. But the words felt distant, as though someone else had spoken them.
Her eyelids grew heavier, the edges of her vision darkening. The cold concrete against her fevered skin felt oddly comforting, and as her mind gave in to the haze, her eyes drifted shut.
And then, there was nothing.
The world was heavy, dim, and muffled, as if Y/N were submerged underwater. Her eyelids felt like lead, and every blink was an effort, her surroundings blurry and shifting as she fought to make sense of where she was.
A dull, throbbing pain settled in her wrist, radiating up her arm and adding to the ache that seemed to linger in every muscle of her body.
Groaning softly, she stirred, trying to move out of instinct, but the sharp pain shooting from her wrist made her freeze.
"Ah..." she hissed under her breath, her voice raspy and weak.
Her chest heaved with shallow breaths as she blinked up at the faint glow of a ceiling light. The ceiling wasn't familiar—this wasn't her apartment, and it definitely wasn't her bakery.
Where... am I?
Her heart began to race as she slowly pushed herself upright, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. The effort sent a wave of dizziness washing over her, and she clutched her pounding head with her uninjured hand, her groggy mind still trying to catch-up.
She looked around, her eyes scanning the room. It was dim but surprisingly clean. The scent of something faintly medicinal lingered in the air, mingled with the faintest hint of something metallic.
She was lying on a soft couch, not her stiff bed or the cold floor of the bakery. A towel, damp and cool, slid off her forehead and landed in her lap.
"Where... what...?"
Her words were barely audible as confusion and anxiety gripped her. Her breathing hitched as she darted her gaze to every corner of the room.
The sound of footsteps jolted her from her spiraling thoughts. Her eyes darted toward the noise, and a familiar figure stepped into view.
The figure froze mid-step when their gazes met.
"...Mikey?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and strained, barely resembling her usual tone.
"Whoa! You're awake!"
She flinched at the sudden noise, her eyes widening as Mikey's excitement visibly shifted into panic as he slapped his hand over his mouth.
"Oh! Sorry! Uh—wait right there! Don't move!" he stammered, throwing his hands out in front of him as though that would physically keep her in place.
He spun around on his heel and bolted out of the room, shouting down a hallway, "GUYS! SHE'S UP! SHE'S AWAKE!" His voice echoed, fading as he ran farther away.
Y/N blinked at the now-empty doorway, her mind a jumbled mess. She opened her mouth to call after him, but no sound came out. Instead, she slumped back against the couch, clutching the blanket tightly, her chest tight with anxiety.
Just what's going on?
Why is Mikey here?
Leo entered first, his steady gaze fixed on Y/N. Donnie followed, adjusting his glasses with a focused expression. Ralph lingered by the doorway, arms crossed. Mikey trailed in last, his wide eyes and anxious grin revealing his relief.
Raph's gaze flicked over her quickly, assessing her condition, before he muttered under his breath, "'Bout time you woke up."
Leo knelt beside her immediately.
"Y/N," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm against her frazzled nerves. "How are you feeling?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but the dryness in her throat made it impossible to form words. Instead, she let out a weak croak, her frustration mounting as she struggled to communicate.
Leo's frown deepened, his brows knitting together. "I'll get you some water," he said decisively, standing and heading for the door. His movements were quick but steady.
Donnie wasted no time as he approached her with a small device in hand. He crouched beside her. "I need to check a few things, alright? Just follow the light for me."
Y/N blinked at him, her sluggish mind trying to process his words. Before she could respond, a small flashlight clicked on, the beam aimed directly at her eyes. She flinched, her eyes instinctively squeezing shut.
"Sorry," Donnie murmured, adjusting the angle. "I'll make it quick."
She reluctantly opened her eyes again, the light sweeping back and forth as Donnie observed her pupils. He clicked the flashlight off with a satisfied nod. "Your pupils are reactive. No signs of brain trauma."
He tucked the flashlight away, nodding to himself as he adjusted his glasses. "Now, a few questions to make sure everything's alright upstairs. Can you feel your hands and feet?"
She flexed her fingers gingerly, the tightness in her wrist making her wince. "Yes..."
"Good. What's your name?"
"...Y/N."
"And do you know who we are?"
Her gaze shifted to each of them, lingering on their faces. She hesitated, her mind searching for the right words. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're... my friends."
The air in the room seemed to still.
Raph, who had been leaning against the wall with his usual scowl, visibly stiffened. His crossed arms dropped to his sides as his expression softened, only to be quickly masked by a cough and a sharp glance to the side.
Mikey, on the other hand, beamed, his grin wide and radiant. He looked like he wanted to cheer but restrained himself, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.
Donnie adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat to cover the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "...Good. Your memory's intact. That's a relief."
Turning his focus back to Y/N, Donnie asked gently, "Can you rate your pain for me? One being no pain, ten being unbearable."
She glanced down at her wrist, noticing for the first time the careful work that had gone into the homemade cast. "Um... maybe a five?" she guessed, her voice hesitant.
"And here?" Donnie asked, touching her shoulder lightly.
The assessment continued, but Y/N's attention drifted to the doorway. Her breath caught slightly at the sight of Leonardo. He carried a glass of water, his presence commanding without being overbearing.
The tension in her body melted almost immediately, her gaze following him as he approached the couch.
"How is she?" Leo asked, his voice low but firm.
"She's coherent and responsive," Donnie replied, standing to give Leo space. "But she needs to rest."
Leo nodded, crouching beside her.
"Here," he said softly, holding the glass out to her. "Take small sips—don't rush."
Her trembling hand reached for the glass, but her grip faltered. Leo noticed immediately, shifting closer as he steadied the glass for her.
"It's okay," he said softly, his tone as soothing as a lullaby. "I've got it."
The cool water soothed her throat, though a small stream dribbled down her chin and onto her neck.
Instinctively, Y/N raised her hand to wipe it away, only to realize that her dominant wrist was in a cast.
Leo's gaze followed hers, and without hesitation, he reached out with a small, quiet, "Excuse me." His thumb brushed her chin as he wiped away the stray droplets with a tenderness that left her breathless.
(AU: HEHEHEHEHHEEHH (꒪// ་། //꒪))
The moment felt oddly intimate, and before she could react, a loud cough broke the silence.
"Alright, enough of that," Raph grumbled, his tone as gruff as ever.
Y/N glanced away, her cheeks burning as Leo pulled back, clearing his throat awkwardly. The atmosphere shifted as Donnie stepped in.
"Do you remember what happened?"
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Me: *drinking water and purposefully pours the water down my neck*
Me: Heh....heh... ( ͡ಠ ͜ʖ ͡ಠ)
Leo: ...
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ARC 2: 02
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As her eyes drifted shut, her thoughts turned to the four turtle brothers. Their bright voices, Mikey's infectious laughter, the warmth they had brought into her life, even if just for a day.
She had hoped of seeing them again, hoping they would step through that back door like they had before.
But they hadn't come.
And now, the emptiness felt heavier than ever.
▼▼▼▼
After another long night at the pizzeria, she trudged home through the dimly lit streets. Her limbs felt like lead, her head heavy and swimming with a dull ache that never quite went away. She couldn't tell if it was from the lack of sleep, the stress, or the fever that had been creeping up on her over the past few days.
Her forehead felt warm to the touch as she reached her apartment door, her breaths shallow and strained. She fumbled with her keys, nearly dropping them before managing to unlock the door. The moment she stepped inside, she kicked her shoes off and let her bag slide to the floor with a thud.
"I need to shower," she murmured to herself, her voice hoarse and scratchy. Her throat ached, her chest tight. The heat radiating off her body made her skin prickle uncomfortably. The fever was worse tonight, but she pushed the thought aside.
She couldn't afford to stop, not yet.
The bathroom was dimly lit, the flickering bulb overhead casting faint shadows across the tiled walls. Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection almost unrecognizable. Dark circles framed her eyes, her skin pale.
I look like a gosh darn ghost. . .
She touched her cheek, wincing at how warm it felt.
Turning on the shower, she instinctively reached for the hot water, craving its usual comfort. But the moment the steam rose around her, her head swam, and a wave of dizziness sent her stumbling backward.
"That. . ."
"That is not a good idea," she muttered weakly, her hand shaking as she turned the knob toward cold.
As the water cascaded over her fevered frame, she felt the tension in her muscles begin to ease, the relentless heat in her body ebbing away just slightly.
Her hand trembled as she turned the knob toward cold. The blast of icy water hit her like a shock, jolting her out of her haze, and she stood there, leaning against the cool tiles, letting the spray cascade down her overheated body.
The chill seeped into her muscles, loosening their tension, and for the first time in hours—maybe days—her mind felt somewhat clear.
She stayed under the water longer than she should have, watching droplets slide down her arms. When her fingers began to go numb, she finally shut off the water and stepped out, her legs wobbling as she reached for a towel and got dressed.
The world tilted slightly as she made her way to the kitchen, the edges of her countertop the only thing keeping her upright.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, her fingers fumbling with the cap. When she finally managed to open it, she chugged it down too quickly, the cool liquid hitting her parched throat in an overwhelming rush.
She coughed violently, nearly doubling over as her body protested the sudden intake.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin.
She glanced at the clock.
Already this late?
Her stomach churned at the thought of heading back out, but the clutter of boxes in her cramped apartment mocked her.
"I should just get it over with," she whispered, though the words felt more like a plea than a statement. She grabbed her coat, slipping it on with trembling fingers, and stepped outside.
The cold night air nipped at her skin, but it barely registered against the heat radiating from her fevered body. Her limbs felt heavy, her steps sluggish. By the time she reached the staircase leading down from her apartment, her legs were trembling, her vision blurring at the edges.
"Gah—!"
Halfway down the stairs, her knees buckled. She caught herself on the railing, clutching it tightly as she tried to steady her breathing. The pounding in her head grew louder, her chest tightening with every shallow inhale.
"I just need... a minute," she muttered, sinking onto one of the steps. She buried her face in her hands. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.
Crying wouldn't fix anything.
It would only waste more time.
Forcing her eyes open, she gritted her teeth and tried to stand. She made it halfway before her vision tunneled, a deep ache settling into her bones.
Her legs gave out completely, and her world tilted violently as she fell forward.
THUD.
The impact was muffled, her fevered mind barely registering the fall. Her arms had instinctively risen to shield her face, but the rest of her body hit the cold concrete with a dull ache. She lay there, sprawled at the base of the stairs, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
The fog in her mind thickened, her vision swimming as her body refused to move. Her chest burned, her head throbbed, and her muscles felt like they were made of lead. She tried to lift her arm, to push herself up, but her limbs were unresponsive.
"Damn...," she whispered weakly, her voice cracking. But the words felt distant, as though someone else had spoken them.
Her eyelids grew heavier, the edges of her vision darkening. The cold concrete against her fevered skin felt oddly comforting, and as her mind gave in to the haze, her eyes drifted shut.
And then, there was nothing.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Y/N: *is sooo sick and SLAMS HEAD ON CONCRETE* (×_×#)
Leo:╰།◉◯◉།╯
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ARC 2: 01
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A week passed, and they never once returned.
▼▼▼▼
The scent of baking pizza dough mingled with the acrid tang of tomato sauce as Y/N pressed her hands into the soft surface of the dough. Her motions were mechanical, almost lifeless, as she flattened the disk into a perfect circle. The heat from the ovens radiated against her back, and the sound of the bustling pizzeria barely registered in her mind.
"Order up!" her coworker called out, slapping another ticket on the counter beside her.
"Got it," she replied, her voice faint but steady. She reached for the shredded cheese without even glancing at the ticket. Her hands moved with a precision born of repetition, scattering toppings over the dough before sliding it into the blistering oven.
The cycle was unending.
Prep, bake, box, repeat.
The hours dragged on in a haze, her body moving on autopilot while her thoughts spiraled elsewhere.
Why haven't they come back?
The question lingered in her mind, invasive and stubborn. She'd tried to push it aside, but every time there was a quiet moment it crept back, gnawing at her like an itch she couldn't scratch.
Did I do something wrong?
She replayed the night over and over in her head, dissecting every detail, every word.
Was it something I said?
Did I come off too strong?
Maybe they didn't like the food... The thoughts swirled endlessly, a storm in her already overworked mind.
The oven timer beeped, jolting her out of her thoughts. She quickly slid the finished pizza out, boxed it up, and handed it to the waiting customer with a strained smile. "Thank you. Have a great night."
When the clock finally struck the end of her shift, relief didn't come. Instead, her next task loomed over her. As her coworkers left one by one, Y/N grabbed her bag and trudged toward the bakery. Her legs felt like lead, and each step seemed heavier than the last.
The bakery was no longer a comforting place. Its warmth and charm had been stripped away, replaced by piles of boxes and pure exhaustion. The air was cold and stale, and the faint smell of flour mixed with dust lingered in the corners.
She set her bag down and immediately got to work. There was no time to rest—no time to think. The bakery had to be emptied completely, the paperwork signed, the final pieces sold off. It was all happening so quickly that she barely had time to process it.
Maybe that was a blessing in disguise.
Processing meant feeling, and she wasn't sure she could handle the weight of it all.
As the week dragged on, the lack of sleep began to take its toll. Her days started before sunrise and ended long after midnight. She worked her shift at the pizzeria, then spent hours sorting through the bakery.
Her body moved as if on autopilot. She couldn't remember how she got from one place to another. She'd arrive at the bakery after her shift, her mind foggy but her hands still working. She taped up boxes, carried them one by one to her apartment, and cleaned until her muscles screamed.
The cycle was unrelenting, but she refused to let herself stop.
By the end of the week, her body felt like it was running on fumes. She barely ate, barely slept. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, and her chest felt heavy, as if the weight of the entire week had settled there.
Each breath felt harder than the last, but she ignored it, brushing it off as stress.
Her coworker at the pizzeria had noticed her sluggishness earlier that day. "You okay, Y/N? You're looking a little pale."
"I'm fine," she had replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
"Tired?" He raised an eyebrow. "You look like a zombie."
She shrugged it off, returning to the dough in front of her. "Don't worry. I'll sleep when this is all over."
----
As she packed the last box in the bakery late that night, her body finally began to betray her. She coughed, the sound rattling in her chest, and her knees wobbled slightly as she bent down to secure the box with tape. Sweat dampened her neck, and her vision blurred. She swayed slightly, her head pounding with a dull ache that refused to subside.
"Come on... just one more," she muttered to herself, her voice hoarse. Her hands shook as she pushed the box aside, leaning heavily against the counter for support. Her breaths came in uneven gasps, and her muscles screamed for rest.
The last box was packed, sitting lonely by the door. She stared at it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh, her legs giving out as she slumped to the floor against the wall. She sat there like a ragdoll, her head tilted back, chin lifted as her fevered skin pressed against the cool wall. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her body shivering despite the heat radiating from her skin.
The bakery was eerily silent, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. Her eyes drifted to the window, where the faintest glow of dawn began to break through the darkness.
The sight of the sunrise made her want to cry.
Another day.
She groaned softly, tilting her head back against the wall. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her skin flushed with fever as sweat beaded along her temple. Her jaw trembled as she fought back tears, her exhaustion finally catching up to her.
"I can't..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't do this anymore."
The bakery was empty now—emptier than it had ever been. The shelves were bare, the counters wiped clean, and yet, the weight of the space pressed down on her chest like a suffocating blanket.
As her eyes drifted shut, her thoughts turned to the four turtle brothers. Their bright voices, Mikey's infectious laughter, the warmth they had brought into her life, even if just for a day.
She had hoped of seeing them again, hoping they would step through that back door like they had before.
But they hadn't come.
And now, the emptiness felt heavier than ever.
Author's Note •⩊•:
✦✦
Uh oh, cheerio!!!
Seems like our little baby Y/N is sick . . .
I sure hope nothing bad happens and a hot man won't have to save her AGAIN . . . ( ಠ‿<)
✦✦
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
*the turtles can't show up in front of her again because of Master Splinter's orders*
Y/N: Y u hate me ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·
Y/N: Did I do something wrong??? ༼☯﹏☯༽
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 1: 13
Review
Mikey beamed, puffing out his chest proudly. "Finally, someone who appreciates art when they see it!"
"Art," Donnie muttered, his voice tinged with dry humor. "That's one way to put it..."
Ralph rolled his eyes, though his face had softened considerably.
But it was Leonardo who couldn't help but focus entirely on Y/N. The sound of her laugh, the brightness in her expression—it was like a weight lifted from the room. His shoulders, which had been taut with quiet tension since his brothers' abrupt arrival, relaxed at last. Seeing her ease into the moment, feeling comfortable enough to laugh with his brothers, brought him a quiet sense of relief.
▼▼▼▼
Y/N found herself more at ease, chatting with Leonardo and his brothers. They laughed, joked, and shared small moments that made the small space feel warm and welcoming rather than just cramped.
Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed Donnie tapping away at some sort of wrist-mounted device. A holographic screen flickered into existence, glowing faintly as his fingers danced across the virtual keys. She blinked, her curiosity piqued.
It looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. . .
Unable to stop herself, she stared openly at the display.
How does it work?
Doesn't look like something from the Apple Store. . .
Donnie suddenly glanced up, his gaze meeting hers. His movements stilled, and his eyes widened slightly at her expression. The pause lingered for a moment too long, and Y/N felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment as she realized she'd been caught.
Donnie coughed awkwardly, breaking eye contact as he adjusted his glasses, his fingers fumbling slightly over the device.
"Uh..." He cleared his throat, quickly composing himself. "Guys, I think we should probably get going." His tone shifted, serious and calm. He hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking toward Y/N before continuing. "It's getting late."
Leo's posture straightened at Donnie's words, his demeanor becoming more focused. He nodded, his tone firm yet apologetic as he turned to Y/N. "Thank you for everything, but Donnie's right. We should head out."
Mikey let out a dramatic groan, flopping forward onto the table with an exaggerated whine. "Aww, come on, Leo! Can't we stay a little longer? I was just getting to the good part!" He reached for an imaginary string of emotions, clutching his chest like an overdramatic actor. "Y/N! Don't let him take us away!"
Raph snorted, smacking the back of Mikey's head lightly. "Knock it off, drama queen."
"Ow! Rude!" Mikey pouted, rubbing his head but keeping up the theatrics.
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "Alright, I won't keep you locked up here with me." Her eyes flicked to Donnie, noticing the subtle worry on his face. She could tell there was more to the urgency, but she didn't press.
Still, she didn't want them to leave empty-handed. "Wait here for just a second," she said quickly, already heading toward the kitchen. Her apron fluttered behind her as she disappeared into the next room.
The turtles exchanged glances, their curiosity clear as they waited. Mikey was the first to break the silence. "You think she's making more food for me?"
"Shut up, Mikey," Raph muttered, though his lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk.
Moments later, Y/N returned, her arms full with two containers—one holding the remainder of the dinner she had prepared and the other empty. She set them on the table and quickly began transferring the dessert into the empty box, her movements quick but careful, making sure that none of the slices were ruined.
As Y/N carefully placed the stacked boxes into Leo's hands, she hesitated for a brief moment, her gaze flickering between his face and the containers. Her lips curved into a slightly sheepish smile as she spoke.
"They're for leftovers," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You know... just in case you or your brothers get hungry on your way back."
Her words were accompanied by a faint blush, and she avoided meeting Leo's gaze directly, worried her offer might come off as too much.
Leo stared down at the boxes, startled. He opened his mouth to decline, but the sight of her expression stopped him. She had worked so hard, rushing around like a busy bee just to prepare these for them.
He couldn't bring himself to refuse.
Leo adjusted his grip on the containers, his fingers curling protectively around them. The corners of his lips twitched upward into a soft smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet and steady. "We really appreciate it."
Her face brightened at his response, the earlier nervousness replaced with a radiant grin. "I'm glad," she said simply, her hands clasping together as she stepped back.
"Well, I don't want to keep you all," she said gently. "I know it's late, and... well, I'm sure you need to head back now."
Y/N, trying not to rush them but still wanting them to leave without delay, stepped toward the back door. She opened it wide, gesturing toward the alley with a gentle motion.
"It's probably better to head out this way, just in case."
One by one, the turtles stepped out into the cool night air. Donnie gave a polite nod of thanks, muttering something about how good the food was. Raph grunted, his expression softening ever so slightly.
Leo lingered for a moment longer, his gaze steady as he looked back at her. "Thank you again," he said, his tone quieter this time, yet just as heartfelt.
Y/N smiled and nodded. "Anytime."
Mikey, of course, made the most dramatic exit of all. He turned back to Y/N with mock tears in his eyes, clasping his hands together. "Y/N, I'll never forget you!" he wailed, reaching out as if to cling to her. "Don't forget me, okay? Write me every day—ow!"
He had to be grabbed by the shell and dragged off, all while he was grumbling under his breath. Y/N couldn't help but burst into laughter, waving after them as they leapt gracefully onto the rooftops.
"Get back safely!!"
Y/N stood in the doorway, her hand raised in a small wave as she watched the brothers disappear into the distance, leaping from rooftop to rooftop until they were nothing more than faint silhouettes. Her smile lingered as she kept her hand aloft, but slowly, as the quiet of the alleyway settled in, she let her arm fall back to her side, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her apron.
The smile on her face softened as she brought her hand up to her jaw, gently massaging the muscles there. She winced slightly at the soreness that had set in.
I should really stop smiling so much . . .
Shaking her head slightly, she turned back inside, closing the door gently behind her. The bakery felt a little emptier now.
The silence that once felt so comfortable just felt so very stifling.
She paused for a moment, her fingers lingering on the lock. The memory of their loud voices, the laughter, and Mikey's cheerful chatter still echoed faintly in her mind. She let out a small sigh, her hand brushing against her apron as she stepped further inside.
"I hope I get to see them again," she murmured quietly to herself, her words swallowed by the bakery's stillness.
It had been a long time since this space felt so full of life, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing for that moment to return.
But. . .
A week passed, and they never once returned.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Mikey: Don't forget me! Write to me everyday . . !!!
Y/N: ???
Y/N: And send to where...? (っº - ºς) ?
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
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ARC 1: 12
Review
Y/N trailed behind them, her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she watched Leonardo drag his 'friends' toward the bakery. "It's okay," she said quickly, her voice soft but reassuring. "Really, I don't mind. You didn't have to—"
Leonardo shot her a look that silenced any further protests, though his gaze softened slightly when it landed on her.
▼▼▼▼
The makeshift table, already tight for two, was now hopelessly crowded. Four massive turtles huddled around it, each trying to minimize the discomfort in their own way.
Y/N found herself wedged between Leonardo and the turtle in a purple bandana, though Leo had subtly shifted himself to give her a bit more space.
Her gaze flicked to the others. They were doing their best to give her space as well, but the effort left them shell to shell.
The turtle in the red bandana scowled, his muscular arms crossed tightly over his chest, while the turtle in the purple bandana kneeled stiffly with his hands resting on his knees, looking like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. The orange-masked turtle, unable to read the room, kept sneaking glances at the dessert in the middle of the table, practically drooling.
Y/N swallowed nervously. The tension was thick—too thick.
She smoothed her apron with trembling hands, offering a hesitant smile in an attempt to break the ice.
"I... I'm so sorry about the setup," she began, her voice a little too high-pitched. "I wasn't expecting guests. Well... more guests." Her words faltered as she glanced around the table. "I didn't have time to prepare properly."
"There's no need to apologize," Leonardo said, his voice steady and calm. "This is more than enough."
His reassurance helped, but the weight of the atmosphere still pressed on her. She felt like every move she made was being scrutinized, especially under the gaze of the red-masked turtle.
"Still... let me grab more plates and something to cut the dessert," she said quickly, pushing herself up so hastily that she almost stumbled. Leo's hands shot out instinctively, ready to steady her if needed, but she didn't notice.
She hurried toward the kitchen, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
The moment she disappeared, the fragile truce collapsed. The red-masked turtle leaned toward Leo, his voice dropping into a low growl. "Alright, Leo, spill it. What's the deal with her?"
Leo straightened, his jaw tightening as he shot his brother a warning look. "Not now, Ralph."
"Yeah, now," He pressed, though he kept his voice low. "You've been sneaking off without a word, and now we find you cozyin' up, playin' house with—"
"She's nice!" The orange-masked turtle interjected, his gaze flickering between the dessert and the conversation.
"Focus, Mikey," the red-masked turtle snapped, though his voice softened when he glanced toward the kitchen to make sure she wasn't listening.
The purple-masked turtle cleared his throat, his voice quieter but no less curious. "We just want to understand, Leo. How did this happen?"
Leo's eyes narrowed, but before he could answer—or swat away the orange-masked turtle's hand from the dessert for the third time—the sound of Y/N's returning footsteps silenced them all.
They immediately straightened, adopting neutral postures as though nothing had happened. The red-masked turtle crossed his arms again, glaring straight ahead, while the purple-masked one placed his hands neatly back on his knees. The orange-masked turtle hastily wiped his mouth, pretending he hadn't been drooling over the dessert moments ago.
Y/N paused in the doorway, her arms full with extra plates and a knife still sheathed for safety. She blinked at the sudden stillness of the room.
Leo gave her a reassuring nod, his calm expression unwavering. Slowly, she stepped forward, setting the plates down on the table.
Y/N forced a nervous smile, placing the plates on the table. "Sorry, there aren't enough utensils," she said softly. "We'll just... um, use our hands?"
"That's fine," Leo said quickly, his tone noticeably gentler than before.
"I hope everyone's hungry," she said softly, her voice just barely steady. "Who would like a slice?"
Leonardo answered first, his tone even. "I'd love one."
The orange-masked turtle immediately chimed in, nearly bouncing in his seat. "Me too! Me too!"
The purple-masked turtle offered a small nod, his voice quieter. "Same here."
Finally, the red-masked turtle grumbled something unintelligible before giving a curt nod, his expression unreadable.
Relief washed over Y/N, her anxious expression melting into a bright smile. The reaction made the turtles pause briefly, their eyes flicking between each other.
Carefully, Y/N set the plates down and unsheathed the knife. She moved with deliberate precision as she cut even slices of the dessert, her hands steady despite the nervous energy still buzzing in her chest.
As she passed each plate around the table, her thoughts raced:
It's so gosh darn awkward...
What the heck should she even say in this situation..?
Wait, maybe she should ask where they were from?
Eh, no... she'd sound so nosy...
Or, how they all knew Leo?
Ahhh... maybe that's too personal...?
The longer she struggled to think of something, the more the silence pressed down on her.
Her hands curled tighter into fists on her knees, her knuckles whitening. She couldn't bring herself to pick up her plate, let alone eat.
The pressure to speak, to make the room less unbearably tense, made her chest tighten—
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The sound was jarring, loud and utterly unexpected. All heads turned toward the orange-masked turtle, who froze mid-bite, crumbs falling from his mouth. His fingers were sticky with raspberry sauce, and the plate in front of him was a disaster zone of crumbs and smeared filling.
Y/N blinked, her thoughts screeching to a halt. The absurdity of the moment was so different from the tension that had filled the room just seconds ago, and for a moment, she simply stared.
He blinked, slowly looking around at the stares aimed his way.
"What?" he asked innocently, his words muffled by the dessert still in his mouth.
"Pfftt——–Cough cough!"
Y/N's attempted stifled laugh turned into an abrupt cough, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, her face flushing with embarrassment. Her shoulders began to shake as the initial burst of laughter slipped out, quickly snowballing into uncontrollable giggles.
She turned slightly, but her shoulders only shook harder, and despite her best efforts, a soft snort escaped her.
The orange-masked turtle swallowed quickly and leaned across the table, grinning brightly at Y/N. "You have a beautiful laugh!" he exclaimed, making her laugh even harder, her cheeks flushing as she tried to wave him off.
"R-Really?" she managed between giggles.
"Absolutely!" He leaned in further, "Like, ten out of ten, would recommend!"
As Y/N leaned back to steady herself, Leo instinctively reached out, placing his arm behind her to make sure she wouldn't fall.
She froze quickly, startled by the unexpected contact, her thoughts scrambling to catch up. Leo, equally flustered, withdrew his arm immediately, his movements precise and measured.
Y/N straightened herself, still laughing softly as she turned to Leo. "..Thank you," she said, her voice soft and sincere.
He gave a curt nod, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for just a moment as he avoided her eyes. His gaze flicked briefly to the side before landing anywhere but her face. "Of course," he muttered, his voice low, though steady, as he straightened his posture.
The atmosphere in the room shifted, the earlier tension dissolving like sugar in tea. For the first time since arriving, Y/N felt herself relax. The corners of her lips lifted into a soft, natural smile as she leaned forward, her hands clasped together in her lap.
"I just realized," she began, her voice carrying a warm but hesitant tone, "I never introduced myself properly. I'm Y/N. It's really nice to meet all of you."
The words had barely left her mouth when the orange-masked turtle's eyes lit up, glowing with the kind of excitement reserved for lottery winners.
He bolted upright so quickly that his dessert plate teetered dangerously on the edge of the table.
"Hold the phone!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air as if announcing breaking news. "You mean to tell me—" He pointed dramatically at her, his mouth agape. "You don't know who we are? Oh no. Oh no. This cannot stand!"
Y/N blinked, startled by his sudden burst of energy. Before she could say a word, he was already on his feet, spinning like an overly enthusiastic game show host.
"Ladies and gentlemen—and Y/N!"
"Welcome to the Ultimate Bro-Down!"
A chorus of groans rose from behind him.
"Mikey, don't," Leo muttered, already massaging the bridge between his eyes like a troubled parent.
"Oh, Mikey, do!" He shot back, wagging a finger at his older brother. He turned back to Y/N, his grin undeterred. "Prepare to have your mind blown!"
Y/N tilted her head, "What exactly... is happening?" she asked, as she couldn't help the smile from growing.
"Glad you asked!" He clapped his hands together. With his signature grin, he dramatically placed a hand over his own chest. "Before anything else, let's get to the most important introduction—me!" He struck a pose so exaggerated Y/N instinctively shielded her eyes and turned her head slightly, squinting against the imaginary glare.
"Michelangelo, the one and only! Party dude extraordinaire, pizza connoisseur, and—obviously—the coolest one here."
"Mikey..." The purple-masked turtle groaned from behind him.
Unbothered, Mikey turned to Y/N and gave her a playful wink. "But you can call me Mikey! All my friends do."
Y/N blinked in awe, but couldn't stop her laugh from bubbling up. "It's nice to meet you, Mikey."
Mikey nodded, pleased with her response. He then gestured to his brothers. "And now, for the supporting cast—"
With a twirl, he pointed toward the turtle in purple. "First up, we've got the man, the myth, the brainiac legend—Donatello! Genius inventor, tech wizard, and the undisputed king of all things requiring his brain!"
Donnie, caught mid-eating his dessert, froze. He coughed at the sudden spotlight before adjusting his glasses—glasses that, as Y/N quickly noticed, didn't even have lenses. He gave a small, awkward wave. "Uh... hi," he said, his voice polite but undeniably shy. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."
"See?" Mikey chimed in, gesturing toward Donnie with both hands. "Genius. You're already smarter just being in the same room as him." Before Donnie could protest, Mikey spun to his next target.
"And now!" he announced, pointing toward the turtle in red. "Brace yourself for the brawn, the menace, the attitude—Raphael! The guy you definitely want on your side in a fight!"
Raphael groaned audibly, crossing his arms over his chest as his scowl deepened. "What the hell, Mikey—!"
"Ah-ah-ah!" Mikey interjected with a wag of his finger. He leaned closer to Y/N, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't let the scowl fool you. He's a total softie underneath all that gruffness. Big ol' teddy bear."
Raph's glare sharpened, "I'll show ya' teddy bear," he muttered darkly, though his tone lacked conviction. Turning to Y/N, he gave her a curt nod.
Y/N's laughed as she nodded back.
"And finally!" Mikey spun one last time, his arm sweeping dramatically toward Leonardo, who was already shaking his head. "The fearless leader! The man who carries the weight of the world—and us—on his shoulders. The one and only, Leonardo!"
Leo sighed heavily. He straightened, fixing Mikey with a look of exasperation that might have sent anyone else running. But when his gaze shifted to Y/N, his expression softened considerably. "It's a pleasure to meet you again," he said, inclining his head slightly in a gesture that felt both respectful and warm.
And then—
"Wow!" Y/N clapped her hands together, her light-hearted laugh bubbling up like a bell, echoing through the room. Her eyes sparkled, the tension that had earlier clung to her posture visibly melting away. "That was incredible!"
Mikey beamed, puffing out his chest proudly. "Finally, someone who appreciates art when they see it!"
"Art," Donnie muttered, his voice tinged with dry humor. "That's one way to put it..."
Ralph rolled his eyes, though his face had softened considerably.
But it was Leonardo who couldn't help but focus entirely on Y/N. The sound of her laugh, the brightness in her expression—it was like a weight lifted from the room. His shoulders, which had been taut with quiet tension since his brothers' abrupt arrival, relaxed at last. Seeing her ease into the moment, feeling comfortable enough to laugh with his brothers, brought him a quiet sense of relief.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
*nobody realizing that Mikey's a paid actor*
Leo: *makes sure she won't fall*
Y/N: ... (//▽//)
Leo: ... (,,¬﹏¬,,)
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 1: 11
Review
For a moment, she just stood there, letting everything sink in. Then, unable to contain her giddiness, she laughed—a soft, light sound that echoed in the empty bakery. She threw both hands into the air in a small victory cheer. "He said yes!" she whispered excitedly to herself, feeling like a love-sick fool.
▼▼▼▼
The early morning light streamed through the bakery windows, golden and soft against the worn countertops. Y/N nudged the door open with her foot, three heavy grocery bags threatening to slip from her grasp. Her arms burned from the strain, and when the edge of a carton dug into her forearm, a sharp jolt of pain made her flinch.
She froze.
The ache wasn't just from the weight of the bags. Her bruises throbbed from where she had fallen, the skin tender from being dragged. The sharp pain in her scalp flared again, reminding her of the rough pull when they had grabbed her by the hair.
"Huff...."
She set the bags down with a heavy exhale, flexing her fingers to stop their trembling. Her gaze drifted to her arm, and before she could stop herself, she gently tugged the fabric back just enough to see.
The bruises had darkened overnight, blooming in angry shades of purple and green. Her breath caught as her other hand rose instinctively to cover her ear. It was almost as if she could still hear his voice—low, mocking, too close.
A shiver crawled up her spine. She shook her head quickly, but the disgusting feeling wouldn't fade.
Damn it...
Her throat tightened as her mind replayed to the night before. She had frozen, helpless, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. The memory made her stomach twist.
What would he have done? How much further would it have gone? The thought made her chest tighten and her breath hitch.
What if...
Leo wasn't there...?
Her hands trembled as she tugged her sleeve down to cover the bruises. She didn't need to think about this. Not now.
"It's over," she murmured to herself, forcing the words to sound steady even as her chest felt tight. Her body told a different story, but she ignored it.
Her palms rose to her cheeks, and she smacked them lightly, the sting jolting her from the spiraling thoughts.
"Pull it together," she muttered firmly, shaking her head and rolling her shoulders as if she could physically shrug off the lingering fear. A practiced smile stretched across her face, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
With a deep breath, she grabbed the bags and began unpacking them.
"You're fine. You're fine. You've got dinner to make," she told herself, her voice growing steadier as the kitchen filled with motion. "You owe Leo a feast."
The light from the window seemed to grow a little warmer, casting the space in a glow that, for the moment, made everything feel just a little less broken.
This place was far from ideal—most of the appliances were wrecked, the tables and chairs broken—but it was all she had, and more importantly, it was the only place Leonardo would know to meet her.
The faint chill of the room made her shiver, but she shook it off, grabbing the apron from her large black bag and tying it securely around her waist. With a deep breath, she got to work.
As she worked, the tension in her shoulders slowly eased. The clinking of jars, the chopping of vegetables, and the warmth of the oven wrapped around her like a blanket, pushing the memory further into the corners of her mind.
Hours passed unnoticed, the day slipping away as she focused entirely on her task. When she finally glanced at the clock, her eyes widened in surprise. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, its golden light casting long shadows across the floor.
She looked around the kitchen and let out a small, incredulous sigh. "I really cooked all this?" The countertops were practically overflowing with dishes.
It was a habit of hers—cooking too much when her nerves took over. Still, it was better than letting her thoughts wander to places she didn't want to go.
With the food nearly finished, she turned her attention to the dining area—or what could pass for one. There wasn't much to work with: no proper table, no chairs. Just a battered wooden crate she'd found tucked away in a corner.
It would have to do.
After draping a clean white cloth over the makeshift table, she smoothed out the wrinkles. She carefully arranged the mismatched plates, covering them with lids to keep the food warm. Finally, she pulled a small vase with a fake flower from her bag and placed it in the center.
Stepping back, she admired her work—but her face turned bright red as realization struck.
Wait...
⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
It looked...
too romantic...
Flustered, she snatched the vase back and stuffed it into her bag, muttering, "Nope, nope, nope." She hurriedly smoothed the tablecloth again, pretending the flower had never existed. But as she stepped back again, the nerves set in.
Her heart raced as she glanced toward the kitchen, imagining Leonardo stepping through the back door. Why was she so nervous? Her palms felt sweaty, and she wiped them on her apron, pacing back and forth across the room.
She tried to sit at the table, hoping to appear calm and natural, but her mind raced with doubts.
...What if he doesn't come?
Standing up abruptly, she moved around the bakery, pretending to busy herself with random things, though her movements were awkward. She glanced at the back door, the same door he'd walked through the night before.
The memory of him stepping inside, tall and calm, sent another wave of nerves through her body.
Just as she was about to return to pacing, the back door creaked open. Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Y/N?" Leonardo's voice, calm and steady, broke the silence.
Without thinking, she rushed to the kitchen, peering through the doorway. There he was, framed by the dim light of the alley, his silhouette familiar yet striking. His blue mask stood out against the shadows, and the cool air that followed him inside made her shiver.
"You're here!" she blurted, a wide smile breaking across her face. She didn't even realize how enthusiastic her greeting sounded. His posture stiffened.
Leonardo hesitated, clearly caught off guard by her warm greeting. He wasn't used to such eager welcomes, and for a moment, he simply stared, unsure how to respond. "I told you I would," he said finally, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with deliberate care.
She grabbed his hand without thinking, her small fingers barely wrapping around his as she tugged him toward the main area. "Come on! I made us dinner. I hope you're hungry."
He allowed himself to be led, his gaze drifting to her hand clasping his before flicking back to her face. She practically radiated energy, and he couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at his lips.
When they reached the makeshift table, he paused, taking in the setup. The plates were neatly arranged, the tablecloth clean despite the rest of the bakery's run-down appearance. A soft blanket had been laid beneath the crate to make kneeling on the wooden floor more comfortable.
"What's all this?" he asked, his tone quieter than usual.
"Oh! Um..." Y/N fidgeted with the edge of her apron, laughing nervously. "I may have... gone a bit overboard. Just a tiny bit." She gestured toward the dishes rapid-fire, her words tumbling out in an anxious rush. "That's chicken—special batter, super secret recipe—and asparagus with garlic and lemon because, you know, vegetables. Gotta stay healthy. Oh! And that's some soup, rice, and—"
Leonardo sat on his knees in front of the makeshift table, listening patiently as she listed off each dish. The corner of his mouth twitched upward as she rambled on and on.
I'm impressed," he said finally, his calm voice cutting through her string of words like a gentle breeze. "This looks... amazing."
Her cheeks flushed as she laughed, scratching the back of her neck. "I-it's nothing, really. Just a little thank you—well, for everything."
His gaze softened at her words. Without responding, he picked up the small utensils she'd set out, their size almost comical in his hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to bend or break anything. The first bite was cautious, but his expression shifted slightly the more he chewed.
His forehead lifted slightly, his expression softening as he chewed. "It's delicious," he said after a moment.
Y/N's face lit up, "You think so?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, her wide eyes fixed on him. He nodded, taking another slow, deliberate mouthful.
But he paused, his gaze flicking to her plate. "You haven't eaten," he pointed out, his tone softening further. He tapped the table lightly near her plate. "Eat. It'll get cold."
"Oh! Right. Yes. Of course!" She jolted, quickly grabbing her fork and taking a bite to reassure him—and maybe herself. She chewed quickly, nodding along like a student eager to please their teacher.
Her nerves began to ease as they settled into the meal. At first, she was stiff, her hands fluttering uncertainly as she darted glances at him between bites. But as the minutes passed and the conversation began to flow, her posture softened. Before long, she was chatting away, her words spilling over one another as she told him all about her day.
"And then," she said between bites, "I couldn't decide which brand of rice to get, so I just stood there in the aisle forever until this old lady came up and told me I looked lost. I was this close to just grabbing both."
Leonardo listened intently, eating slowly as though savoring both the meal and her chatter. His focus never wavered from her, as if every word she said was the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard.
When Leonardo's plate was nearly empty, Y/N didn't hesitate to scoop food from her own onto his plate, insisting he eat more. Despite his polite attempts to decline, he couldn't argue against her.
By the time they had finished eating, Y/N stood abruptly. "Let me get these," she said quickly, scooping up the dishes before he could protest.
"Y/N—" Leonardo started, but she was already moving, stacking the dishes like a tower.
"I've got it!" she called, wobbling slightly under the precarious tower of plates.
His body tensed as his gaze locked on her, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of trouble. She teetered once, and his hand twitched instinctively, but she quickly steadied herself, muttering, "Careful, careful..."
She disappeared into the kitchen, and he didn't relax until he heard the clatter of plates safely hitting the counter.
When she returned, she carried a tray with a delicate puff pastry cake drizzled with salted caramel. He blinked in surprise, staring at the dessert. "You made this too?"
"Of course!" she said proudly, though there was a nervous tremor in her voice.
As she placed the cake in the center of the table, she spotted movement outside and hesitated, her eyes flicking to the window. She froze, eyes narrowing slightly as she peered toward the glass. Three figures were huddled just beyond the pane, their large shapes awkwardly pressed against the corner.
At first, her heart jumped at the sight—three strangers watching her bakery. But as her gaze lingered, she began to notice something familiar in their silhouettes. The curve of their shells, the outline of their masks—they looked suspiciously like...
"Leo?" she asked quietly, glancing back at him. "I think your friends are here."
Leonardo's posture changed in an instant. His body straightened, muscles coiling as his sharp gaze snapped toward the window. His entire demeanor shifted, instincts sharpening, ready for trouble, only to catch sight of three distinct figures.
They were huddled just outside, their large forms poorly concealed behind a corner, heads poking out awkwardly to peer inside. The instant Leonardo's sharp gaze met theirs, they ducked out of sight, scrambling back into the shadows like children caught sneaking a cookie.
Leonardo sighed heavily, the tension in his shoulders easing, though his irritation was clear. Y/N, however, tilted her head, studying his reaction. A soft, amused smile tugged at her lips.
He opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words. "They're not—" he started but hesitated, unsure how to explain. Before he could finish, Y/N had already set the pastry down and moved toward the front door of the bakery.
"Wait—Y/N..." Leonardo trailed off, sighing as he stood and followed her. With no choice but to trail behind, he allowed her to draw her own conclusions.
The two of them stepped outside, the cold night air brushing against their skin as they walked toward the alleyway where they had first met. The dim light from the streetlamp illuminated three large figures huddled in the corner, their voices low but heated as they bickered amongst themselves.
"Don't push me, Mikey!"
"I'm not pushing, you're in my space!"
"Both of you, shut up. He's gonna kill us if—"
Standing side by side with Leonardo, Y/N turned her head slightly toward him, covering the side of her mouth with her hand as she whispered, "I don't think they know they've been spotted."
Leonardo leaned down slightly to hear her whisper, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. Despite his irritation, he let out a quiet, amused chuckle, crossing his arms as he waited to see what she would do.
His gaze never left her, watching as her expression shifted, each emotion playing across her face like an open book.
She was nervous, her fingers fidgeted slightly, and her lips pressed together as she glanced between him and the alleyway. He could tell that she was thinking long and hard, and he already had a sinking feeling about what she was about to say.
"So..." she began quietly, her voice hesitant. "Should we invite them in for cake?"
Leonardo's brow twitched in response, and his reply was flat. "Not a chance."
Y/N didn't press him. She tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a patient, questioning look. Her expression was full of that disarming sincerity he was starting to find harder to ignore.
He exhaled through his nose, turning his eyes away as if to escape her gaze. But even as he glanced to the side, his shoulders slackened slightly, his earlier tension melting into something softer. "You're relentless," he muttered, though his lips curved faintly at the corners.
Her face broke into a bright smile as she kept on staring in his direction. She didn't have to say a word—he already knew what she was thinking.
Leonardo met her gaze again, his sharp blue eyes locking with hers. His expression shifted, subtle but clear: If you really want this so badly, this one's on you.
Y/N's smile faltered into a tiny pout, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She'd been hoping he would be doing the heavy lifting. But the smirk on his face told her there was no way he was stepping in now.
She left out a soft huff as she called out, her voice slightly trembling.
"Umm! E... Excuse me!"
The three figures froze mid-argument, their silhouettes going rigid like deer caught in headlights. The silence that followed was deafening, and Y/N glanced up at Leonardo only to find him silently laughing.
She turned to glance at him, her cheeks heating up at his laughter. "You're not helping," she mumbled, her tone flustered.
Still laughing softly, he raised an eyebrow at her, wordlessly encouraging her to try again.
Y/N huffed lightly, gently elbowing him in the ribs before squaring her shoulders. (AU: 100% attack, 0% damage)
"Would you like to come inside?" she asked, her tone softer now.
Silence.
"I made a bit too much food, so we would love to have your company..!"
Silence.
(っ◞‸◟ c)
Her shoulders sank slightly, disheartened by their lack of response. She hesitated, glancing at Leonardo again, her brows furrowing in concern. Seeing her disappointment, Leonardo's patience finally wore thin.
He shook his head and let out a quiet sigh. "Alright," he muttered under his breath. Without another word, he strode down the alleyway.
Before any of the three could react, Leonardo was in front of them. In one smooth motion, he grabbed one turtle by the shell with one hand while using the other to wrangle the two others together. The three turtles squawked in protest, their attempts to escape futile against his firm grip.
"Inside. Now," Leonardo commanded, his voice low and leaving no room for argument.
"Leo, we were just—"
"Shut it."
Y/N trailed behind them, her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she watched Leonardo drag his 'friends' toward the bakery. "It's okay," she said quickly, her voice soft but reassuring. "Really, I don't mind. You didn't have to—"
Leonardo shot her a look that silenced any further protests, though his gaze softened slightly when it landed on her.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
*turtle brother's scrambling to see who Leo's girlfriend is*
Y/N: Eh? Are they interested in the dessert? ⁽⁽'o(≧ᗜ≦)o'⁾⁾
Leo: ... (¬_¬")
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 1: 10
Review
With a smile, she got up from her chair and took his empty plate, placing it in the sink. She moved with a kind of care and thoughtfulness that hadn't left her since he arrived. When she returned, she held another plate—another helping of eggs and toast.
She set it in front of him with the same gentle touch as before. "Here you go," she said quietly, her voice tender.
"Thank you," he said softly, his voice much gentler now.
Leonardo finished his second helping of eggs and toast, setting the fork down with a satisfied sigh. Y/N, who had been quietly watching him from across the table, started to get up to clear the plates, but before she could move, Leonardo raised a hand gently to stop her.
"I've got it," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You should rest."
His calm assurance caught her off guard, and she hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her body sank back into the floor, the weight of the night pressing down on her.
She watched him gather the plates and disappear into the kitchen, his movements fluid and purposeful. The sound of running water and the faint clinking of dishes echoed through the bakery.
Her eyes wandered across the room. Although they had done their best to clean up, the bakery was still beyond fixing. Trash bags lined the wall by the door, stuffed with broken glass, ruined cupcakes, jagged wooden parts from smashed furniture, and napkins stained with dirt and blood. The shelves were still askew, and the shattered display case caught the dim light in jagged reflections.
She sighed deeply, her chest tightening as she took it all in. This was her bakery—the very place she had poured her soul into. But now, staring at the wreckage, she felt a strange sense of clarity.
Maybe this was for the best.
In the back of her mind, she had known this day would come. The lack of customers, the growing bills—she had always pushed it aside, refusing to acknowledge the inevitable. This bakery had been her everything, but it was also a source of constant stress.
Now, standing on the edge of losing it, she didn't feel the panic she had always imagined. Instead, she felt... relief.
Her thoughts drifted to Leonardo. The memory of him smiling softly as he ate her smushed cupcakes and later devouring her eggs and toast as though they were a gourmet feast filled her with unexpected warmth.
She had missed that feeling—the joy of watching someone truly savor something she'd made. She thought back to the days when customers would walk in, faces lighting up at the sight of her pastries. This was the reason why she started in the first place.
Maybe this was life's way of telling her it was time to move on. Maybe this bakery wasn't the right place or time, but that didn't mean she couldn't find another way to share her skills. And knowing that someone—he—enjoyed her food so much gave her a small but precious sense of hope.
Her gaze shifted as Leonardo reappeared from the kitchen, his large frame moving with silent precision.
He approached the trash bags by the door, bending down and lifting them effortlessly, the strain barely registering on his face. She jumped to her feet, instinctively wanting to help.
"I can—" she started, but he shook his head, stopping her in her tracks.
"It's fine," he said firmly. "Don't worry."
Realizing she wouldn't win this battle, she hurried to the back door instead, her hands gripping the handle. The cold wind rushed in as she pulled it open, the sharp chill biting at her exposed arms.
Leonardo nodded in appreciation as he stepped past her, his movements steady and careful despite the heavy bags he carried.
She stepped aside, her foot pressing against the base of the door to hold it open, her eyes instinctively following his every move. Even in the dim light of the alley, his movements were deliberate and sure, like someone entirely in control of their surroundings.
The bags disappeared into the dumpster with barely a sound. As he turned back toward her, the dark alley seemed to frame him like a protector, the faint wind tugging at his bandana.
Y/N hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until his towering frame filled the doorway. Without a word, Leonardo reached above her, taking the weight of the door from her foot. The sudden proximity made her breath hitch, and she blinked up at him, startled.
He tilted his head slightly, ushering her inside with a quiet motion. The intensity of his presence made her heart race, and she quickly stepped through the doorway, her cheeks warm despite the chill in the air.
How had she not noticed him getting so close?
Leo's eyes flicked briefly to the dining area, where the Purple Dragon members lay sprawled near the front door, unconscious and still in the same haphazard positions where he had dropped them earlier.
"If I take them to the police station before they wake up..." His voice, steady and low, broke through the quiet. He turned his attention back to her, watching her closely as though trying to read her every thought. "Will you be okay on your own?"
His eyes scanned her face with clear hesitation, his concern evident. "After everything that happened, I can walk you home—just to make sure."
Her gaze flicked to the unconscious Purple Dragon members sprawled near the front door. The thought of him carrying four grown men while walking her home seemed absurd.
She placed a hand over her chest, willing her heart to calm as she nodded. "That's kind of you, but there's no need," she managed to say, though her voice was softer than she intended. "I'll be okay. I promise."
Leonardo didn't look convinced. He stood in silence for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled it over. His eyes searched hers again, as though looking for any sign that she might change her mind. Finally, after a pause, he sighed softly, conceding.
"Alright," he said, though the reluctance in his tone was clear. His expression softened, and he bowed deeply. "Thank you... for the food. And for your hospitality."
She blinked, startled by his sudden gratitude. The sincerity in his gesture caught her off guard, and she instinctively mirrored it, bowing even deeper. Her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke, her words spilling out in earnest.
"No, thank you," she said, her hands clenched nervously at her sides. "For saving my life... and for helping me clean up tonight. I...I really don't know what would have happened..if.."
The atmosphere in the room shifted almost instantly when her voice faltered, the words leaving her lips like a fragile whisper.
Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, but the implication struck both of them like a blow. For a moment, Leonardo froze, his jaw tightening as he processed the thought. His mind involuntarily conjured the terrifying possibilities—the things those men could have done to her had he not arrived in time.
A deep, quiet anger simmered within him, but he kept it buried behind his calm exterior. Outwardly, he was as composed as ever, but the small, controlled movements of his hands and the subtle narrowing of his eyes betrayed him.
He didn't reply—there was nothing he could say in response. Instead, he turned, his expression darkening just slightly as he approached the unconscious Purple Dragon members sprawled near the front door.
With a single motion, he hoisted them up, two men over each shoulder as though they weighed nothing.
The roughness of his movements went almost unnoticeable, but it was there—his frustration spilling out in the small, forceful motions as he adjusted their weight.
Y/N stood by, watching in awe as he effortlessly carried all four thugs, her earlier words already forgotten. Her gaze followed him with a kind of quiet amazement, not noticing the tension in his shoulders or the anger behind his movements.
To her, it was simply incredible that he could carry four grown men with ease.
Leonardo turned toward the back door, his thoughts focused on delivering the Purple Dragons to the authorities. But before he could reach the door, Y/N hurried forward, gripping the handle and pulling it open for him.
A sharp gust of cold wind swept into the bakery, and she instinctively braced herself against it, her apron fluttering in the breeze.
"Here," she said softly, her voice tinged with nervousness as she held the door for him.
Leonardo paused, his gaze lingering on her face. Her expression—half nervous, half determined—kept his attention. He nodded once, a faint yet sincere gratitude glimmering in his eyes.
"Thanks," he murmured, stepping into the dark alleyway with his heavy load. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the brick walls as he moved steadily toward the dumpster, his figure blending into the shadows.
But he stopped just outside the door, noticing how she still stood there, one hand resting on the edge of the doorway and the other fiddling with the hem of her apron.
Her head was slightly downturned, her eyes darting from the ground to his broad figure. Leonardo waited, sensing that she had more to say.
He didn't rush her; instead, he stood silently, the cool night air swirling around them, giving her the time she needed to gather her thoughts.
"Uh... Umm..." Her voice wavered, and she hesitated, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink as she struggled to find the words. Finally, she took a small breath, her eyes meeting his for just a moment before darting away again.
"I just... I was wondering if... Would it be okay if we... met again? Tomorrow, maybe? I mean, I could... I could make you something. To thank you properly.."
Leonardo's eyes widened slightly, her words catching him off guard. He hadn't considered that this might be the last time they'd see each other. For all his efforts to keep his distance, he realized he didn't want that—not after tonight.
The gratitude in her voice, the warmth of her presence—it had all left an impression on him that he hadn't expected. And now, with her offering a reason to meet again, he found himself silently relieved.
A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, softening his serious expression. "Yeah," he said simply, his voice steady. "That sounds nice."
Her face brightened almost instantly, her nervousness melting into a wide, radiant smile. He nodded toward her, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. "Then... I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."
He turned and disappeared into the shadows, moving with the ease. She stood there for a moment, her thoughts swirling as she replayed the interaction in her head.
As soon as she closed the back door shut, Y/N let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her entire face felt like it was on fire, her cheeks flushed red from the whole interaction. She slumped back into the door, burying her face in her hands, the heat from her blush still lingering.
( //>///<//)
For a moment, she just sat there, letting everything sink in. Then, unable to contain her giddiness, she laughed—a soft, light sound that echoed in the empty bakery. She threw both hands into the air in a small victory cheer.
"He said yes!" she whispered excitedly to herself, feeling like a love-sick fool.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Y/N: Can we see each other tomorrow..?
Leo: (⌐■_■)ノYeah, I'll see you tomorrow.
Y/N: o(≧∀≦)o
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 1: 09
Review
She sighed deeply, finally lowering the towel in defeat. "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head with a small smile. Her hands dropped to her sides, placing the tissue back into her pocket, her body relaxing slightly for the first time since the ordeal began.
He returned to tidying the kitchen, his movements calm and steady. As he stacked the unconscious thugs by the door, like luggage waiting to be collected, she couldn't help but watch him with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. The sight of this giant, shadowy figure methodically restoring her bakery—even in its ruined state—felt surreal, like something out of a dream.
Even though her body felt heavy with exhaustion and her emotions still teetered between sadness and relief, she couldn't let him do all the work.
Slowly, she began helping him clean up the bakery, righting overturned chairs, organizing the scattered baking utensils, and sweeping up the mess. She made sure to throw away the ruined cupcakes before he had a chance to try them again, though a small part of her felt happy knowing he liked them.
As they worked side by side, the air between them settled into a comfortable quiet. Though her limbs were weary, she found herself wanting to talk to him, the man she'd been thinking about for the past week.
"What's your name?"
There was a pause, the kind that lingered just a little too long, and she thought maybe he wouldn't answer. But then, quietly, he said, "Leonardo."
She smiled at the name, and he returned the question, his voice just above a whisper. "And yours?"
She glanced up from her sweeping, meeting his gaze for a moment before responding, "Y/N." The way he repeated her name, almost to himself, as if committing it to memory, sent a quiet warmth through her chest.
As they continued working together, she noticed the faint glow of the morning light creeping in through the windows. She paused, glancing up in surprise. The entire night had passed without her realizing it. They had been cleaning for hours, and the sun was beginning to rise.
Leonardo hesitated, his mind swirling with uncertainty as daylight crept into the room. The light was exposing him more with each passing minute, yet she hadn't reacted the way he'd feared. He opened his mouth to excuse himself, to slip away before the truth of his appearance could sink in, but before he could utter a word, she took a gentle step forward and grabbed his hand.
Her tiny fingers curled around his larger, calloused hand with surprising softness. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with quiet insistence. "Come on," she said softly, guiding him toward a small wooden crate (AU: sadly all the chairs and tables were broken..) in the corner of the bakery.
Her touch was so light, so natural, that he found himself being led without any resistance. She gestured for him to sit next to the makeshift table.
"Please," she asked with a smile, and he realized he couldn't say no.
He sat, feeling awkward and out of place, still waiting for the moment she'd truly see him. But she seemed content, busily moving around the kitchen, the sounds of cooking filling the air.
The smell of sizzling eggs soon replaced the lingering tension, wafting through the bakery with a warmth that made Leonardo's stomach rumble in anticipation.
When she returned, she placed two simple plates of food on the table—eggs and toast. She settled into the area across from him, her own plate in front of her, and started to eat without hesitation. The golden morning light illuminated her as she chewed contentedly, as though this was just another normal breakfast.
Leonardo stared down at the plate in front of him, hesitating. His instincts told him to leave, that staying any longer was a mistake, but the smell of the food pulled him in. He glanced back at her, torn between his caution and the strange comfort he found in her presence.
When she finally looked up and noticed he hadn't started eating, she tilted her head curiously.
Leonardo stared down at his plate, then back up at her. His expression was serious, almost conflicted. After a moment, he asked the question that had been weighing on him since the sun came up. "Aren't you... afraid of me?"
She blinked in confusion, her cheeks puffed out from the mouthful of food she was still chewing. She looked at him with genuine perplexity, as if the idea hadn't even crossed her mind.
Leonardo stared at her for a long moment, stunned by her reaction. She didn't seem fazed at all. He couldn't figure out if she was ignoring the obvious or if she truly didn't care. It left him speechless, and for a moment, all the worries that had plagued him seemed to melt away in the warmth of the sun and the scent of breakfast.
Finally, his hunger got the better of him, and he took a cautious bite.
At first, he stuffed his face with eagerness, his hunger overtaking his thoughts. Eggs and toast—simple, yet somehow more delicious than anything he'd tasted in a long time. It was a far cry from the constant diet of pizza he'd been living on.
But then, as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth, he felt a shift in the air. He paused mid-bite and slowly glanced up. She was staring at him, her chin resting in her palms, elbows perched on the table.
Her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she watched him eat. Leonardo froze, his body tensing awkwardly, and quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling a bit self-conscious.
"Uh, ahem," he cleared his throat and straightened up, kneeling straighter. He placed his hands on his kneepads, trying to regain some composure. "It's, uh... really good," he said, his voice softer now, more restrained.
She nodded, still smiling at him with that same warm, happy expression. "I'm glad you like it," she replied, her voice carrying the same gentle tone that made him feel oddly at ease.
For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them. She kept watching him with that smile, her chin still cradled in her hands as if she were enjoying watching him savor the meal she made.
He hesitated, then reached into the chest pocket of his gear. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper stapled to a pink ribbon, smoothing it out on the table. "Ahem, thank you... for the cookies," he said, his voice slightly gruffer than before. "And the note."
Her eyes widened slightly as she watched him pull out the note she had written with the goodie bag. It was creased but neatly kept, clearly treasured.
Next, he carefully pulled out the empty pink plastic bag that had once held the cookies. He placed it next to the note with a kind of reverence, ensuring there wasn't a single wrinkle on the bag. It looked almost new, as though he'd taken meticulous care to keep it in perfect condition.
He slid it toward her, his large fingers brushing against the surface almost reverently, as though he wasn't sure what to do with it now.
"I, uh... figured you might want the bag back," he mumbled awkwardly, his gaze never leaving hers.
She blinked, taken aback by the gesture. He was trying to return it to her like it was some kind of sacred object.
For a moment, she was speechless, watching him slide the plastic bag across the table with such care.
She couldn't help it—a soft laugh escaped her, light and full of surprise.
Leonardo's brow furrowed, and he quickly started to tuck the note away, clearly flustered by her laughter. "Don't laugh," he mumbled, his voice defensive as if embarrassed.
But she shook her head, still smiling warmly. "No, no, it's not that," she said gently, her voice filled with sincerity. "I'm just happy." Her hands came together as she rested them on the table.
"I'm happy when you eat my food, and I'm happy that you're taking care of the bag I gave you. It's... sweet."
He stopped, the tension easing as he glanced at her again. Her eyes were soft, and her smile hadn't faded. She wasn't laughing at him; she was genuinely just happy.
"Keep it," she said through her laughter, shaking her head slightly. "I think you'd treasure it more than I would."
After a moment, he finally nodded, picking it up with a kind of quiet reverence and carefully tucking it back into his chest pocket. He looked almost sheepish as he did so, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
With a smile, she got up from her chair and took his empty plate, placing it in the sink. She moved with a kind of care and thoughtfulness that hadn't left her since he arrived. When she returned, she held another plate—another helping of eggs and toast.
She set it in front of him with the same gentle touch as before. "Here you go," she said quietly, her voice tender.
"Thank you," he said softly, his voice much gentler now.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Y/N: *cooks breakfast for the hot man in her bakery*
Y/N: q(╥﹏╥)p Please, wife me up...
Leo: ...?
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୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
ARC 1: 08
Review
"It's over now," came the low, soothing voice, deep and steady, calming her frantic heartbeat. His eyes, though she couldn't see them clearly, were on her the entire time.
Her heart raced even faster. That voice... She knew that voice. Her mind whirled, memories of the alleyway flashing before her—the man she'd spoken to, hidden in the shadows. It was him.
Her mind was still reeling as she and the man locked eyes across the shadowy room, the tension so thick she could almost feel it pressing against her skin.
She remained crouched by the counter, every muscle trembling from the adrenaline surging through her veins. The figure stayed in the dark, his presence dominating the space, but he didn't move toward her.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, silence stretching between them like a fragile thread.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to process what had just happened—the violent confrontation, the lights going out, and then... him. The vigilante. The man from the alleyway.
Her legs felt like jelly as she struggled to stand, using the counter for support. She rose shakily, never taking her eyes off him, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. He shifted slightly, almost as if he wanted to help, but his hand fell back to his side, retreating into the shadows again.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the gratitude behind it was undeniable. Her wide eyes stayed fixed on him, searching for something—reassurance, understanding, anything that could make sense of what had just happened.
He didn't say anything, just nodded once, a small, reassuring gesture. Even in the dark, it was enough to let her know she was safe.
Her gaze shifted to the bakery around her, the chaos and destruction starkly illuminated by the faint light filtering in from the street lights. Broken glass littered the floor, chairs lay toppled, and the cash register had been smashed open, though the lack of money inside likely frustrated the thugs more than anything.
The cupcakes she had worked so hard to bake were strewn across the floor, some crushed beneath boots and others completely flattened.
A strangled laugh bubbled up from her chest. It was more out of shock than humor, but she couldn't help it. She chuckled quietly, her hands gripping the counter to steady herself as she stared at the mess.
Then, without warning, tears began to blur her vision. They fell, one after the other, sliding down her cheeks until she couldn't hold them back anymore.
Her laughter faded into soft sobs as she buried her face in her hands. The reality of the situation hit her like a wave—this was it. The end of the bakery, the end of everything she had worked so hard to maintain. There was no coming back from this. Everything was gone.
He stood frozen, watching her quietly from the shadows. He had seen all kinds of chaos, experienced fear and pain more times than he could count, but comforting someone... that was foreign to him. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air as she cried, unsure of what to do.
Eventually, he took a tentative step forward, his large figure moving silently through the darkness. Still unsure, he hesitated for a beat before gently placing a hand on top of her head. He patted it up and down in a stiff, awkward motion, hoping it might somehow help.
Surprisingly, it did.
Slowly, her sobs began to quiet as the repetitive, although clumsy, gesture grounded her. She wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve, sniffling and blinking away the remaining tears. Her eyes felt raw and tired from crying, her entire body heavy with exhaustion.
Seeing that she had calmed down, he withdrew his hand, retreating back a few steps.
Without saying anything, he walked past her into the kitchen. She watched him go, too emotionally drained to question what he was doing.
He came back out, holding a wringed out towel. His steps were slow, almost hesitant as he approached her again. "May I?" he asked softly, holding up the damp cloth.
She blinked, her tired eyes following his movements, but she didn't respond, didn't seem to fully register what was happening.
He whispered, "Excuse me," as he carefully began to pat her face with the hot towel. The gentle touch made her jolt, her eyes widening as he wiped away the blood and tears with slow, deliberate strokes.
He kept his gaze on her, his focus split between cleaning her face and gauging her reaction, ready to stop at the slightest hint of discomfort.
She stayed still, her body slackened with exhaustion, and when she didn't flinch away, he continued. The towel dabbed at her cheeks, gently wiping her eyes. His hands were large but careful, each movement measured as though afraid of causing more harm.
(AU: Leo's doing his best not to touch her skin with his fingers since anyone would be able to realize bro only has three fingers. Along with this, currently she only sees his shadow, after all the crying and her eyes trying to adjust to the dark, she still has yet to see what he looks like. Just pretend it makes sense =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇))
When he finished wiping her face, he paused, his breath steadying as he let his hands fall to his sides. He studied her in the dim light, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she regained some composure.
A deep silence hung between them. Then, without a word, he retreated to the kitchen again.
He tidied up the mess as best as he could. Chairs were set upright, broken glass were swept into a pile, and damaged equipment were stacked neatly in one corner. His actions were methodical, almost meditative, as if putting things back in order would somehow make the situation better.
She continued to watch, still dazed, her mind numb as she tried to process everything that had happened. It wasn't until he bent down to pick up one of the crushed cupcakes from the floor that she snapped out of her trance.
To her utter horror, she saw him inspect the mangled pastry for only a moment before he casually popped a piece of it into his mouth.
She gasped, jolting forward. "Wait! Stop!" she cried, rushing toward him. "That was on the floor! You can't eat that!"
Utterly unfazed, he simply chewed and swallowed, his voice muffled as he replied, "It's delicious."
She stood there, flustered and stammering, searching her apron pocket for a tissue. Her fingers fumbled as she pulled it out and shoved it toward him.
"Spit it out, seriously! I can't believe you're eating that! It's... it's dirty!"
He just chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Really, it's fine," he reassured her, waving the tissue away.
She stared up at him, unwilling to believe his words. She was so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that, for a moment, she forgot all about the chaos around her. Here she was, standing in her destroyed bakery, and her biggest concern was a large vigilante eating floor cupcakes.
She sighed deeply, finally lowering the towel in defeat. "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head with a small smile. Her hands dropped to her sides, placing the tissue back into her pocket, her body relaxing slightly for the first time since the ordeal began.
He returned to tidying the kitchen, his movements calm and steady. As he stacked the unconscious thugs by the door, like luggage waiting to be collected, she couldn't help but watch him with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. The sight of this giant, shadowy figure methodically restoring her bakery—even in its ruined state—felt surreal, like something out of a dream.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Leo: *eats the cupcake that fell to the floor*
Y/N: Wait! No..!
Leo: Delicious.
Y/N: :(⁄ ⁄ᵒ̶̶̷́⁄-⁄ᵒ̶̶̷̀⁄ ⁄):
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୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ
Decided to post my novel on tumblr as well!
I realized that the ads on Wattpad may not be the best, and so I have decided on this. I'll do my best to update as often as possible!
As of right now, the novel is currently on my Tumblr, Wattpad, and AO3.
[The links to the Wattpad and AO3 can be found in a previous post.]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 16/? Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Leonardo (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello & Leonardo & Michelangelo & Raphael & Splinter (TMNT) Characters: Reader, Leonardo (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Raphael (TMNT), Michelangelo (TMNT), Splinter (TMNT), The Purple Dragons (TMNT) Additional Tags: Leonardo-centric (TMNT), Protective Leonardo (TMNT), Bakery, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, y/n, Soft Leonardo (TMNT), Cute Leonardo (TMNT), Sick Character, Fever, Gang Violence, Slow Burn, Attempt at Humor, Brotherly Love, Brotherly Bonding, Banter, Fear, Art, Digital Art, Protective Raphael (TMNT), Protective Michelangelo (TMNT), Protective Donatello (TMNT), Protective Splinter (TMNT), Love, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Whump, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Female Protagonist, Light-Hearted, Angst and Feels Summary:
Leonardo x FemReader:
What happens when a young baker accidentally clobbers someone on the head while throwing the trash into the dumpster bin?
"Ow! Wait! Don't take another step!" a voice calls out from behind the dumpster.
Y/N: wtf ? ? ┌╏ º □ º ╏┐
**This is meant to be a short story, so do not read if you're looking for a deep-rooted plot. Everything's there just to continue the story.**
( tmnt bayverse 2014 film ) ( tmnt bayverse 2016 film ) ( leonardo x Femreader )
ARC 1: 07 ⚠︎
📢❗🚨 CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains some gore and gross talk!
Review
She stepped back, wiping her hands on her apron, and tilted her head as she observed the contrast. The dark, grimy alleyway and the weathered dumpster stood in stark contrast to the bright pink goodie bag. The sight made her laugh softly.
"There was no way in hell he would miss it."
▼▼▼▼
The week had passed with an almost surreal sense of normalcy for her. After placing the goodie bag on the dumpster, she'd rushed to the alley the next morning, heart racing with anticipation as though it were Christmas morning.
When she saw the pink package gone, she danced around like a middle school play—he'd taken it!
(AU: someone else could've taken it bbygurl "( – ⌓ – )=3).
Business, however, remained slow.
She spent most of her days surrounded by silence, the hum of her phone playing the news.
Her eyes would drift toward the screen, scrolling through stories about mysterious gang takedowns happening across the city. Every report made her heart skip with excitement. It's him. It's gotta be him.
The streets outside were dark, save for the occasional flicker of passing headlights. Y/N stood at the workbench, dusting her hands with flour as she prepared dough to rise overnight. The rhythmic motions of kneading were soothing, her mind drifting as she worked.
A strand of hair fell into her face, tickling her cheek. She huffed, blowing it away, only for it to settle back in the same spot.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, as she used the back of her wrist to nudge the loose hair behind her ear, careful to keep the flour on her hands away from her hair.
Brinnggg!!!
The bell above the door chimed.
Her head snapped up, heart leaping. A customer? This late? She quickly grabbed the bag of flour she'd been using, her rolling pin wedged into the top, and rushed to the front.
She placed the flour bag and rolling pin on the counter behind the register without thinking, turning toward the door with a wide, eager smile.
Her smile faltered.
Four men lounged lazily at the counter, dragon tattoos winding up their arms.
The Purple Dragons.
Their presence felt like an oil spill on clean water.
Y/N stiffened, her fingers twitching at her sides. She could feel their eyes on her—gross and invasive, crawling over her like ants.
She forced a smile, her voice a little too bright to cover her unease. "Welcome! What can I get for you today?"
The men glanced at each other, smirking like they shared an inside joke. One of them stepped forward, leaning against the counter with a predatory grin. "What ya' got here?" he asked mockingly, his eyes scanning the run down bakery.
Her shoulders tensed. "I...I've got cupcakes," she said, her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of her apron. "They're not exactly fresh, but they're still good..."
One of the men chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Cupcakes, huh?" he said, dragging the word out like he was tasting it on his tongue.
He leaned against the counter, smirking. "Nah, sweetheart, we ain't here for cupcakes. We're here to talk business." His grin widened, a dangerous glint in his eye that made her stomach churn.
Her stomach twisted in fear. "...Business?"
"Yeah," he sneered. "You see, my boys and I protect this area now. And protection ain't cheap. So from now on, ya' gonna start payin' us a lil' tax. Keep the bad guys away, ya' know?"
She swallowed hard. "I... I don't have any money," she stammered. "No one's been coming in—there's nothing to pay you with."
The thug's expression darkened. He pulled a knife from his pocket, flicking it open with a menacing grin. "Wrong answer."
She instinctively took a step back, her pulse racing as panic began to set in. "Wait—please! I'm telling the truth. There's no money here. The register's empty!" She gestured toward the old, battered cash register as proof.
He took a step forward, eyes glinting with malice. "Then we'll just have to take somethin' else, won't we?"
She backed up, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her back hit the counter, fingers fumbling behind her, searching for anything she could use to defend herself.
The Purple Dragon thug advanced on her, his cocky smirk widening with every step. Her fingers tightened around the rolling pin hidden in the bag of flour behind her.
She had one plan: swing the rolling pin and knock him out.
Simple. Effective. Foolproof.
Or so she thought.
As he leaned closer, his knife glinting ominously under the warm lights, Y/N clenched her eyes shut.
She swung her arm.
SLAP!
The sound rang through the bakery like a firecracker. The air went still, heavy with disbelief. Y/N's palm tingled, and she froze, confused.
S...Slap...?
She cautiously opened one eye, expecting to see the thug retaliating after slapping her. Instead, she saw him holding his face, his jaw slack in sheer disbelief.
His eyes were wide, his fingers pressing against the growing red imprint, outlined in white flour, of her hand on his cheek.
Y/N blinked, her mind blank for a moment.
Oh...
Well...
...I guess that works?
The other Purple Dragons stood frozen, their expressions a mix of confusion and horror as if they couldn't process what had just happened.
"Uh... okay then," she muttered under her breath, raising the rolling pin in her other hand. With all the force she could muster, she brought it down on his head.
CRACK!
"I—You—" he stammered, swaying on his feet like a drunkard. But somehow—somehow—he stayed standing.
"Eh...?"
Sir, what...?!
The thug's head jerked up, his face twisted in pure hatred. Blood dripped down from the gash on his forehead, running over his nose and down to his chin. His eyes gleamed with such intensity that Y/N could swear her soul left her body for a moment.
It felt like she was in the middle of a horror movie, and he was the monster.
Her hands went slack, and the rolling pin slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor.
"Hiieee—!!"
Her feet skidded slightly on the flour-dusted tiles as she sprinted for her gosh darn life. She reached the back door and twisted the handle, desperately trying to open it.
But before she could escape, a sharp yank pulled her backward. Her head snapped back as the thug's bloody hand gripped a fistful of her hair. "Ack—! My hair!" Y/N wailed, tears springing to her eyes from the pain.
"Let go, damn it! I'm about to go bald!"
He dragged her back toward the front of the bakery, her heels scraping against the floor as she flailed uselessly, her cries of protest falling on deaf ears.
Through teary eyes and blurry vision, she caught glimpses of the chaos around her. Her bakery—the small space she had poured her everything into—was in ruins. The display case was shattered, shards of glass glinting under the flickering lights. Chairs lay broken, their legs snapped like twigs, and her cupcakes made just that morning were crushed beneath heavy boots.
The other Purple Dragons paid her no mind. They were too busy tearing the place apart, swinging their bats and fists at anything that remained intact. Bags of flour were ripped open, coating the air with a white haze.
The bakery was unrecognizable.
He knelt down in front of her, his large hand still gripping the back of her head, forcing her to look up at him. His face inched closer, their proximity so unnervingly intimate that, to an outsider, it might have looked like a tender moment—a hot man gently holding his partner, leaning in to whisper sweet nothings.
But there was no romance here, neither was a hot man.
In Y/N's eyes, he looked like a demon dragged straight from the depths of hell.
"You think you can get away with that, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His breath, reeking of cigarettes, hit her face, making her gag. "I'm gonna make you regret—"
Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead, down to his chin, before splattering onto her cheek.
"Mmph..." She flinched, trying to turn her face away. Her stomach twisted in revulsion as the warm, sticky drop slid down her neck.
"Don't you fucking turn away from me!" he snapped, his voice rising in anger. His free hand shot out, gripping her chin roughly and yanking her face back toward him.
"Agh...!"
His blood-slicked fingers dug into her skin, smearing streaks across her cheeks. The iron scent mixed with the stench of his breath made her eyes water.
I'm gonna be sick...
The lights flickered.
Y/N's breath caught. The thug paused, his head snapping up as he looked around. The other Purple Dragons stiffened, their smug expressions wavering. The room plunged into complete darkness, save for the faint glow of streetlights filtering in through the windows.
"What the hell is going on?!" the thug barked, his grip on Y/N tightening.
A soft sound cut through the darkness—barely a whisper of movement. Then came the sickening thud of something heavy hitting the ground, followed by a muffled groan.
"Boss?" one of the gang members called out, his voice trembling. "What's going—?"
Another thud. Another groan. The sound of bodies collapsing filled the room, one after another.
The thug holding Y/N froze, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled her closer like a human shield. "Who's there?!" he shouted into the void.
Before she could even register what was happening, the thug was ripped away from her like a ragdoll. His hand tore free of her hair, leaving her stumbling backward against the counter. The cold edge of it pressed into her back as she clutched the counter for support.
A sharp cry of pain split the air, quickly followed by a heavy thud.
She didn't dare move, frozen in place as the violence seemed to swirl around her in the darkness. Her scalp throbbed where the thug had grabbed her, the warmth of his blood still slick on her skin.
She could hear the sickening crack of bones breaking—sharp and violent, like twigs snapping underfoot.
And then... silence.
The bakery was eerily quiet now, save for the soft, labored breathing of someone else in the room.
She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the faint light. She could barely make out the shape of a figure standing above the thugs. One of them stirred, groaning as he tried to get back up, but the figure moved swiftly—his foot pressing down hard on the thug's chest, pinning him to the ground effortlessly.
"It's over now," came the low, soothing voice, deep and steady, calming her frantic heartbeat. His eyes, though she couldn't see them clearly, were on her the entire time.
Her heart raced even faster. That voice... She knew that voice. Her mind whirled, memories of the alleyway flashing before her—the man she'd spoken to, hidden in the shadows. It was him.
୨ TINY THEATRE ୧
Thugs: Teehee, we've come to extort you!
Y/N: (◔_◔)💅 Guess you don't know who my manz is...
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୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ