CWs: None! Just pure fluff—unless you’re scared of the dark. All characters are aged-up.
LEO
Leo treats a power outage like a tactical survival scenario. The second the lights flicker out, you’ll hear him call out to make sure you’re okay, followed immediately by the sound of him ordering his brothers to stay calm (even though no one is panicking yet).
He is the one who tracks down the emergency flashlights and candles. Once a safe perimeter is lit, he’ll sit with you on the couch and suggest playing old-school board games or sharing stories.
If you get cold, he’ll wrap his favorite Space Heroes blanket around your shoulders. He secretly loves the excuse to just talk to you without the distraction of his phone or the TV. Though he will use a flashlight under his chin to tell a cheesy ghost story just to see you roll your eyes.
RAPH
Raph immediately groans at the top of his lungs, complaining about the TV or his video game cutting out. But the moment he realizes you’re in the dark, he’ll call out your name, his voice dropping an octave to mask his concern as he navigates his way to you.
He pretends to be annoyed by the blackout, but he secretly thrives in it. He’ll light a bunch of candles, sit right next to you, and use the flickering light against the walls to make incredibly intricate (and aggressive) shadow puppets to make you laugh.
He will use the darkness as an excuse to keep you close, wrapping an arm around you under the guise of “making sure you don’t trip over Mikey’s junk.” If Donnie starts complaining about his lab equipment, Raph will gleefully throw stealth-mode prank items across the room to scare his brothers, laughing low in his chest when they yell.
DONNIE
You hear a loud CRASH from the lab, followed by Donnie wailing about an unsaved file or a delicate chemical compound that needs refrigeration. He is instantly on a mission to fix the generator amid his catastrophic despair.
He will practically drag you into the lab with him because he refuses to leave your side in the dark. Then he’ll hand you a flashlight and ask you to be his “assistant” while he tinkers with wires. He will ramble nervously about the power grid, glowing with a mix of stress and excitement because he gets to show off his mechanical skills to you.
If he can’t fix the power immediately, he’ll give up and pull out some battery-powered emergency gadgets to provide cool, neon-colored lights for the two of you. He’ll also rig a backup battery just to power a small speaker so you two can listen to music together.
MIKEY
Mikey either screams because he thinks it’s a ghost, or he cheers because a blackout means rules don’t apply anymore. There is no in-between.
Within ten minutes, he will have scavenged every blanket, pillow, and cushion in the lair to build a massive blanket fort in the middle of the common room. He will insist that you live in the fort with him until the power comes back on.
He’ll raid the kitchen for “blackout snacks” (which consist of cold leftover pizza and weird combinations of junk food). Inside the fort, he’ll crack open glow sticks, make jokes, and force you to play truth or dare. He makes the dark feel entirely un-scary. And you’ll probably end up falling asleep tangled up in blankets together before the lights ever turn back on.
(A/n: Sorry this is so ass, it’s 3am as I write this and my English is failing me.)
Use of he/him pronouns!
When Leonardo first met you he had been fighting with the foot clan after noticing you being harassed by them during his nightly patrol, he had stepped in and finished them off within minutes, saving you from being attacked, although whilst he was fighting Leo didn’t get much of a chance to really look at you, but also partly due to all the weapons being swung at his head.Leonardo looked incredible to you, you couldn’t help but admire him when you had seen him do such impressive moves so flawlessly all while trying to protect you!
When the battle finally finished you had been wounded and Leonardo found there was no other choice than to bring you back to the Lair for aid from Donnie. “Hold on, I’m gonna get you help!” was the last thing you had heard from the blue masked man before waking up in a room with a pungent smell, surrounded by open pizza boxes and..multiple turtles?You wanted to scream yet no sound left your mouth, were you kidnapped?What is this place?Is the smell of pizza going to stick to your clothes forever??
After adjusting to the darkness, the purple masked turtle-whom you later learnt was named Donatello-similar to the artist, had been the one to have you on an iv drip and apparently has a vast knowledge of medicine, you had thought things couldn’t get any weirder when you had a pear-headed turtle mutant with a purple bandana on preventing you from bleeding out, but you gave up on explanations once a mutant with a yellow bandana politely asked if you wanted to try his..pizza milkshake..yuck.
After spending some time in the lair you learnt that the handsome blue masked hero that’d saved you was named Leonardo, huh another artist..you were starting to sense a pattern..
Leonardo was apparently in charge of what goes around here-although he himself had a leader named Master Splinter, who was a rat-man-thing; after being nursed back to health by Donatello and Leonardo respectively, you realised that they were so much more than strange, slightly scary mutants, they were kind, thoughtful, sometimes aggressive-or maybe that’s just the red banded one..
Even after recovering you had decided to stick around, often returning to the lair on weekends, partially because they were good company-Raph with his temper and wit, Donnie with his smartness and patience to help you with your projects, Mikey with his silly nature and upbeat attitude, and Leonardo with his heart of pure gold, always willing to help and never giving up on people-even those who were clearly evil.You were the closest with him of course, he had taken an interest in helping you with defending yourself and you both only became closer after you had walked in during his movie marathon of Space hero’s sequels.. “hey, is that Space Heros II?” “YOU KNOW SPACE HEROS??”
Over time, it became more apparent to the other brothers how you seemed to have a magical effect on Leo, normally he would give lectures about being reckless when the others would mess up during their missions-when they acted dumb or weren’t paying attention to the plan when fighting with the Kraang or purple dragons and it would cost them their victory-Leonardo often took these losses to heart and felt as though it reflected on his ability as a leader, but when you were around he would simply mumble about improvements and change the topic, it was noticeable, even the dumbest of the dumb noticed.(Mikey)
Michelangelo even started using you as a form of protection when he would irritate Leo-knowing that he wouldn’t want to hurt you or even raise his voice in your general direction.
“Ugh-Mikey, what are you doing??”
“Just having my y/n meat shield at the ready!”
The brothers saw how Leo pined for you, moping around when you weren’t at the lair-him getting more distracted easily and him making self deprecating jokes, they found it slightly pathetic, they saw how you looked at him like he was the coolest guy ever when he quoted Space Hero’s.Only someone in love with Leo could look that interested, it was clear you were both into each other.
“C'mon this is getting pathetic, we need to figure out a way to get them to stop pining and giving each-other heart eyes!it’s getting annoying…and gross, we already have to deal with Donnie giving April goo eyes, we can’t deal with another turtle acting all lovey-dovey.” Raphael grumbled, hitting the punching bag out of frustration as Mikey and Donnie devised a plan…of sorts, but not before Donnie glared at Raphael for his remark about him and April.
“You’re right Raphael, we need to speed up this natural process of love and concoct it ourselves….alright I've come up with a plan, it’s called“-OPERATION MAKE LEO JEALOUS AND CONFESS HIS FEELINGS TO Y/N”
“That’s a dumb name…”
“That IS a dumb name…”
“Ugh whatever, you guys are no fun”
“Fine. What's the plan?”
“Okay so…”
Leo had woken up from a long nap, it was freshly midnight, he was planning on rewatching Space Hero’s with his y/n for the millionth time and quoting his favourite lines just to impress them! No…not his y/n, not yet anyway…
“Hey y/n, want to watch space hero’s with me?” Leo asked coolly, already ordering pizza and finding the most comfortable place to sit, he was prepared to have a relaxed day and spend time with y/n, but also feeling slightly nervous-every-time he hangs out with you he gets all jittery.
“Ah I can’t, sorry…Raph invited me to hang out in the dojo with him and I promised I would, said it was important for me to meditate with him!” you looked away guiltily.
Leo felt his shoulder slump at the rejection, before sitting up and really thinking..‘Meditate…raph…important?’Leo was unsure if he had actually woken up or if this was a dream-maybe he hit his head or had some form of concussion, maybe he’d reached nirvana whilst meditating?…nah, this can’t be right.. Raph normally avoided meditations like they were the plague, sensei normally had to practically force Raphael to do them by threatening to not let him go on patrols, since when did he choose to do it…and why invite y/n?Raphael had been courteous to y/n sure but they never had hung out together, the thought made Leo feel uneasy and as though he was missing something.
“Hey Leo, sorry they’re gonna be busy for a while” a voice rang out from behind him, the familiar red bandana flashed across his peripheral as Raphael strolled up and wrapped an arm around y/n’s waist, Leonardo couldn’t help but feel his eye twitch at the contact and feel his stomach twist in disgust and something unfamiliar, although he couldn’t help but notice that your face remained neutral to his touch, feeling a small sense of relief at the fact.
“Oh that’s..fine.” Leo murmured through gritted teeth, trying to keep his unknown feeling in check for now as he not-so-subtly stormed back to his room.
Over the next few days Leonardo felt as though he must’ve done something evil in his past life to deserve this, as Raphael hung out with y/n more and more, his brother casually laughing and touching you like it was nothing..it was making his blood boil over and driving him crazy; Leo had tried everything! Meditation, focusing on honing his skills with master splinter, every time Leonardo tried to hang out with you Raphael always snuck up first and even when it seemed you would decline Raphael would quickly whisk you away, this weekend had not been going well, even SpaceHeros couldn’t distract him from the flirty sight in front of him, Raphael with his legs on your lap, but once he leaned forward-tucking your hair behind your ear Leo had finally decided enough was enough.
“Raph, can you come here a second?” Leo asked, trying to keep his voice calm and collected, as Raphael casually replied “Why of course my dear leader” as he slowly pulled his legs off of your lap, Leonardo could feel the smugness in his tone, which pissed him off further.
“Sorry y/n, Lame-o-nardo needs me for something, I’ll only be a minute!” Is all Raphael had to say as Leo dragged Raph to his room.
“Okay, what are you playing at” Leo growls, wanting to wipe that smug smile off his brother.
Raphael’s smile widened as he looked down at his nails and replied“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” the blue masked turtle felt one step away from exploding with frustration at the lack of answers, feeling as though Raph was hiding something but not knowing what it was, it was all making Leo go insane.
“Why are you suddenly hanging out with him?You never cared to before and now you’re hanging out with them all the time??” Was the only proper excuse the leader could muster up.
“Well, I thought their time would be better spent with me, besides they’re pretty cool.”Raphael shrugged.
Leonardo couldn’t disagree with him on that, in fact, it was one of the few things he would agree with.
“Just-whatever you’re trying to do, stop it”
“Or what, O’ fearless leader??You gonna punch me over your lil boyfriend?”Raphael was pressing at his buttons and-being his brother and all-knew all the right (or wrong) things that would make Leonardo tick.
Leo’s face exploded into a deep blush as he spluttered out an excuse “it’s-wh-it’s not like that!!”feeling humiliated and not having any smart come back,he remained silent and glared at his brother.
“Oh so you wouldn’t mind if I was to kiss them, right?” Raph smirked, Leo had never felt so much rage in his entire life. “Look Raph, y/n isn’t a toy??You can’t just use him-we are good guys, this isn’t how we’re supposed to act.” Leo angrily answered, lashing out at his brother.
“Just tell them that you like them and I’ll stop.”Raphael whispered curtly, as Leo rolled his eyes and held his head in his hands, there’s so many possible ways this could go, he wasn’t ready to be rejected yet-but he didn’t want Raphael playing with your feelings like it was a simple game, so finally he gathered up the courage and walked back to where you were, deciding he would much rather get rejected and get his brother to back off than have his dick of a brother hurt your feelings.
Hey! could you do 2012 tmnt how they would react if s/o is a dancer? Sorry for bothering have a good day/night!
Fearless Leader
He is so quiet when watching you dance
You’re not sure what he’s thinking exactly,
Kinda unnerves you at first
So, in the middle of a particularly tricky move, you look over to see him watching you and just ask
“Do you not like dancing or something?”
You’ve never seen him panic so fast
He’s immediately animated, frantically waving his hands in front of him
“No, no, no-! It’s not that, I was just- you’re just- your dancing is so impressive!”
Leo didn’t even realize he had been staring so hard
After years of training and fighting, he sort of just- analyzes movements, studying them.
(Which actually made him decent at dancing but he doesn’t do it often)
He’s absolutely impressed by your dance moves, he got too busy caught up in analyzing, and appreciating how you make each flow, to realize he might’ve been coming off as judgmental
After explaining, you offer to teach him a thing or two
Are there stars in his eyes??? He’s already standing next to you ready to go
Loves to learn moves from you!
Makes the cutest concentrating face- especially on harder moves
(He sticks his tongue out a little, don’t tell him though because he’ll stop!)
You two could spend hours in the dojo just practicing dance moves.
He’ll bring refreshments and snacks!
Offers to teach you ninjitsu or meditate in return <3
Mean Green Fighting Machine
Raph can definitely bust a move
He can also vogue- I don’t make the rules, he just can.
Enjoys watching you dance!
He’ll even challenge you to a dance battle
Doesn’t matter what style of dance you choose,
He’ll do his own thing while throwing in a few moves he’d seen you do.
You find out how well he actually pays attention to your practicing during these dance offs.
Raph is actually decent at mimicking moves he sees others do
Surprisingly good at ballet
And of course,
✨Hip hop✨
Loves having these friendly competitions with you.
…even if he sometimes gets butthurt at losing
Just pull him into a silly little dance and all will be well
No fancy moves, just enjoying the music
“Aw c’mon Raph, you did great!”
“Hmph, still lost >:/“
“C’mere and dance with me already!”
“Alright alright I’m coming!”
Never actually gets angry about losing
Will pout a little though
Loves to see you grin about it <3
Is so incredibly supportive and proud of his s/o!
Donnie-pedia
Donnie dances like a dork /pos
He can either do the robot or some really awkward dance movements
It doesn’t bother him much-
Or at least it didn’t until he met you
Donnie loves watching you dance
You make it look so easy!
Gets a nervous if you ask him to dance-
Literally spends hours watching tutorials trying to learn how to dance better
He wants to be able to dance with you properly!!
Absolutely swoons if you offer to teach him
He picks up a few moves but still is pretty awkward overall
Once you tell him that you don’t mind,
He adores to dance with you
He genuinely enjoys just watching you dance too!
Finds it ✨fascinating✨
Gets you a good bag to store your dance stuff in- like your shoes and clothes
Decorates it with little dance charms and pins
And a purple turtle ofc
He also builds you a small music box with your favorite music!
That way you can listen and dance to it whenever!
"I uh made you this portable music box with your favorite tunes! You can listen to it wherever, whenever- if you want too of course. If not it's totally fine and-"
"Woah! This is great, D, thanks!!"
"Really?? :D"
You can practically see his tail wagging (it is actually)
Dr. Prankenstein
One word-
✨Hyped✨
Is your number one hype turtle
Always excited to see you dance!
Especially if you do any hip-hop/break dancing
If you do, he 100% joins in
Mikey is an awesome break dancer!
You'll always have a good time dancing with him.
If you don't do any hip-hop/break dancing-
He still loves to watch and join in when he can
Very good at following the flow of the beat
Can dabble in pretty much any dance style,
He's the fastest at being able to pick up on new styles/moves
After a few moments of watching you,
He's able to replicate the move you're doing!
Ofc it's not perfect (most of the time anyway)
But it's still pretty impressive.
Loves to just dance with you.
If you preform you better believe he finds a way to watch
Doesn't matter if the place is crowded and it's in the middle of the day,
Mikey always finds a way to come out and support you
(you may or may not have nearly screamed after seeing him pop out of the ceiling rafters but shhh)
If you ever need someone to give you feedback too,
Mikey's your turtle!
"S/o!! I saw your dance today, it was awesome!"
"How did you even-?"
"Oh, I found a crawl space under the floor and propped it open a bit, no biggie :D"
":O"
This, and many others, have been sitting in my ask box for over a year now.
I hope you enjoyed it, I apologize for the wait. Have a good day/night!
But why is it so hard to find Raph fics??? I mean, TMNT has been around since the 80s, tumblr has been a thing since 2007. Fan fiction has been a thing since the beginning of time.
I know there’s more than this.
There’s no way I’ve already reached the bottom of all the Raph tags. There’s no way.
Anyways, I’m gonna make it my mission to weed through all the Raphael x reader tags and organize them here on this blog in (what I think will be) an easy to navigate list. Because I’m sick and tired of not being able to find anything for him 😩😭
Wish me luck 🫡
-Pinto 🌱
P.S. If anyone has any Raph x reader fics (any iteration!) please send them my way! I’ll get started on a master list as soon as I wake up tomorrow 🙏
request: a humble request, for 2k12 raph x reader (g/n or fem) yk that pairing where it’s grumpy x sunshine, reader is raph’s lil ball of happiness but acts like they aren’t and then gets a little jealous when reader’s attention is elsewhere, raph totally overthinking things like ‘i tot they only smile at me that way~~’ or just some inner angst where reader has to calm him down/reassure him >\\\\<
🝮 “ teensy-weensy hiccup, oops! ”
2012!raph x reader
author’s note: a new fic? so soon after the other? i may or may not have had time… may have done a li’l bit of writing in class, too… But! My first 2012 request! I hope you like uwu, thankies !!
word count: 1.8k (exactly! isn’t that crazy?)
“ Pay attention t’me. “
Y/N looked up from their place on the floor. Around them laid all kinds of craft materials, from pins to scissors, to glue guns and threads. A tablet was leaning against a box of fabrics, playing a “ How to Make Cute Plushies and Clothes! ” video—currently paused as they struggled to catch up. Their eyes met Raph’s green hues, wavering with an emotion they couldn’t quite pinpoint just yet.
“ What? “
Raph stiffened up visibly, his fists clenching—not out of anger, of course. He would never hurt you, and you were all too aware of that.
“ I just, ya spend so much time with my brothers! What about me, aren’t I just as cool as ‘em? “
Y/N sat stunned for a moment—had you really been paying so little attention to him? Roll the cameras real quick!
You recalled a memory earlier this week, when you had first come down to the lair.
———
“ Y/N, hey! Can you come hold something for me? “
Donnie called to you, from his doorway almost immediately after you stepped through the turnstile. Had it not been for this taking your attention, you might have caught Raph standing in the doorway of his room, frozen in a “ running-out-to-see-you ” position. His face faltered at the big goofy grin that you flashed Donnie, quick to rush in over and see just what kind of strange experiment you would have the pleasure to engage with—it couldn’t be that dangerous! Otherwise he would have asked Mikey, but then again, maybe it was slightly above Mikey-level of safety and right at Y/N-level of safety!
Slipping past the makeshift curtain door, into the taller violet scientist’s lab, Raph would give a huff and close his door, unbeknownst to your gaze.
———
You grimaced at the memory, sucking air through your teeth with a nervous little criss-crossing of your legs. It was then that another memory had come in.
———
“ Oh, Oh, Y/N! Come here, come here and try this that I made—I found a cooking book! “
That had piqued Y/N’s attention enough as they vaulted across the turnstile with a grin that quickly changed to skepticism.
“ Hey, you didn’t put anything weird in it, right? “
Their eyes narrowed at the orange banded turtle holding a moderately safe looking Tupperware of baked macaroni. But, could anyone truly be safe when a meal of Mikey’s came into the room? He eats pepperoni pizza out of the trash, jellybeans and anchovies on custom made pizzas, and happily ate the most nuclearly offensive sludge ever for how many years?! There was no way he didn’t slip SOMETHING strange into here!
“ Y/N, when have I ever made anything that wasn’t a MASTERPIECE, now try it! “
Mikey held a spoonful to Y/N, prompting them to accept spoon-fed food with a giggle that caused a certain red-bandana’d turtle to stir from his nappy-nap on the couch. It was here that he’d see the much-too-homey exchange between Mikey and Y/N—one that quickly dissolved into a screaming chase with the following dialogue:
“ MIKEY, WHAT IS THAT!? IT BLINKED AT ME! “
“ JUST TRY IT, I PROMISE ITS TAAAASTYYYYY!! “
“ NO, GET IT AWAY FROM ME, MIKEY I’M SO SERIOUS! “
Y/N and Mikey ran all around the living space—with you running for your ever-loving life and Mikey running playfully behind you with a much-too-unsettling smirk. This was most definitely a classic sibling move going on, and you would be damned if that Mac touched your tongue!
This memory ended with you leaping into Raph’s embrace—which almost didn’t work if his reflexes hadn’t caught you. Your face buried into his shoulder, muffling your screams, led you to not notice the soft smile that he had for a second before then deciding to protect you from your assailant!
———
Now this memory had Y/N glancing back to Raph to defend themselves, like “ hey, I did do this! cut me some slack, will ya? ” but that was halted by the last memory of the week stirring.
———
“ Y/N, can you come here a second? “
Y/N had come to the lair for a specific reason this time—a movie night planned for just them and Raph! Saturdays were always for the two of them, and they had never missed one!
That is, until tonight. They sidetracked for Leo, expecting it to truly be just a second or two and then straight to Raph’s room!
Instead, you had managed to spend nearly the entire night being scolded, lectured, and then trained by Leo. He had a point for most of it—you weren’t the most perceptive at times, and there was a point this week where it had almost cost you. The brothers had an unfortunate run in with the latest mutated victim, some sort of … possum monster? Well, you had obviously been heading back home from an after-school event when a tail shot towards you and coiled tightly around your waist.
There was only a few seconds for you to understand what was going on. A blur in your peripheral, a tightness around your waist, and a shout that you recognized—Raph! Your head turned to see him with a hand outstretched to you before your frame was lifted from the sidewalk and into the air. A startled screech left your mouth at the sudden whirling danger.
Thankfully, they resolved it quickly, but you hadn’t noticed how Raph huffed under his breath when Leo saved you. It made him uncomfortable how your arms reached out for Leo instead of him! Of course, that was dumb to be jealous about because at least you were safe and Leo always was a bit faster when it came to saving folks, but still! He knew it was dumb to be angry, but he wanted you to save those open arms for him. He wanted to be your knight, your hero, not Leo.
———
So, with those memories floating in their mind, Y/N patted beside them for Raph to sit. By now, the tablet had shut off, leaving the two in silence while surrounded by materials and a little somethin’-somethin’ that was covertly slid right on behind their back.
Not well enough, though!
“ What’s that? “
Raph asked, suspicious of what Y/N decided just HAD to be hidden right this second.
“ I’m sorry—I realize I may have been a tad bit … “
Y/N’s body shifted, facing Raph—swiftly ensuring the hidden treat stayed out of his gaze, of course— then raised their hand to cup his cheek as soft as a kiss as their thumb stroked him lovingly. He leaned into it, albeit still with the long, pouting face and emerald eyes that tried to fixate on the floor but always returned to your own gorgeous hues.
“ I have been a bit negligent with our time… I’m sorry about that, but do know that you’ve been on my mind the entire time! I swear. “
“ Psh, yeah, and that’s why you hung out with my brothers instead? Why you seem to give them more attention? More of your time? “
His voice may have seemed frightening to anyone else, but not you. No, you knew the truth of his tone. Raph wasn’t angry, he was simply worried. Worried you might see more in his brothers, the ones who were much more “ in control “ of their emotions, or at least more than he was. He was just the hothead, and he was just afraid that would scare you away.
“ Weeeeelllll, “
Y/N gave a nervous grin and twiddled their fingers.
“ That was more so a minor hiccup on my part, but here, I can prove it. “
From behind their back, Y/N held up a little turtle plushie. The nervous grin seemed to get wider as they rocked it back and forth with a sing-songy hum. While it had the cute shell on its back, the front plastron was more so like cute little overalls (which totally wasn’t because you may or may not have hiccuped on the steps, not at all, completely on purpose.) there were little dark green buttons as eyes—which you were still iffy about— but not yet a mouth.
“ I got a bit distracted… But, I’ve been trying to do this—you know, since I know the incident with Spike, er, Slash? I know you really loved him, so I figured, ‘hey, what if I made him something?’ A-And what better than a—umph! “
Your spiel was cut short as Raph hugged you suddenly, tightly. Silence followed, up until the softest “ thank you ” escaped him. You loosened up, hugging him back with a growing grin and laughs welling up in your chest.
“ I take it you like it? “
“ … I’m … sorry. “
Whispered ever so quietly was his apology, which you assumed was because of his earlier jealousy. The held-back laughs slipped out as your hold on him tightened comfortably.
“ No need to apologize, it’s my bad! I didn’t mean to push our quality time so far away, Raphie. “
At that nickname, you felt him stiffen for a second, as if contemplating something, before then wordlessly loosening up. Instead, his finger started tracing little circles upon your shoulder blade, hesitating to speak.
“ … So, am I special to you? “
“ Say what now? “
“ Special, like important! “
He pulled back with a blush dusting his cheeks. This time he nailed the whole “ avoid-eye-contact ” thing.
“ Of course, why wouldn’t you be the most important to me? I love you. “
“ Because, y’know… You flash your cute smile at everyone else, I was kind of hoping it was just for m—hey, what’s with that look? “
The most dazed, dumbfounded, disconnected-from-reality-for-a-second look had been plastered across Y/N’s face as a lovesick smirk tugged upwards on the side of their mouth.
In a sing-songy voice again, Y/N teased the red banded Raph in front of them. And did so a tad bit too far as he quickly pounced them down, initiating a playful fight-for-one’s-life (and by that, I mean he was trying to do his usual “ blows raspberries on your tummy ”, but who in their right mind would allow that? It tickled! It was silly! Unhand me, I beg of thee!)
After the both of you settled down with giggles, he came to be laying upon his back with his eyes up to the ceiling. You rested upon his plastron, cheek pressed against your arm.
“ You know I love you, right? You mean the world to me, Raph. “
Raph tilted his head, looking at you for a few seconds of silence. He rolled his eyes then pulled you over up onto him more to just hug you closer to him. Consider it his way of saying, “ yes, and I hope you know it’s the exact same for me. “
A/N: I wrote this with 2012 Raph in mind, but you can insert whichever iteration you want, tbh. I also wrote in a more “stream of consciousness” style, similar to one of my old TLR fic, which I don’t do often.
🎵 Inspired by Poison Love by Dreamcatcher 🎵
CWs: Self-destructive behavior, street harassment/attempted assault, mutual pining but it’s actively destructive, unhealthy relationship dynamics, codependency, possessiveness, jealousy, emotional distress, emotional manipulation (even if unintentional), minor self-harm ideation/themes, knife violence, and blood/injury. All characters are aged up.
It’s not the first time you’ve walked home alone at night—and it won’t be the last.
You tell yourself it’s because the streets are quieter after dark. That the city feels different when no one’s watching. That it makes you feel alive. But somewhere, deep down where you don’t want to look too hard, you know the truth.
You like the danger.
So when the footsteps behind you don’t fade, you don’t turn around. Not at first.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Your spine tenses—there it is, a voice dripping with malice.
Finally, you glance back. No uniforms, no friendly faces. One with a lazy grin, the other cracking his knuckles. You calculate the odds. You’re not fast. Not strong enough. You could scream.
But some part of you doesn’t.
You stand your ground, heart thudding too loud in your chest. This is your fault, a familiar voice inside you whispers. You knew what this was when you chose this street.
The nearest one steps forward. You don’t flinch. But your fingers twitch, the tiniest movement toward your phone.
He notices and grins wider. “You don’t wanna do that,” he warns.
And that’s when the world shifts.
A blur of red. The sound of something cracking. A grunt—not yours. A scream—definitely not yours. One body hits the alley wall with enough force to dent brick. You don’t breathe.
The second guy raises a knife, but it’s ripped out of his hand so fast you almost don’t see it. There’s a low, furious growl. And then … silence.
Apart from the echo of fists hitting flesh.
Then it stops. And you see him.
He’s not just tall; he’s massive. Red mask, green skin. Muscles coiled like he’s still ready to break something. Or someone. He has the kind of posture that dares the world to try him. Your mind tries to file the image under ‘hallucination.’ Or maybe ‘you finally snapped.’
But no—he’s real. And he’s staring right at you.
“You okay?”
His voice is rough. Not threatening. Not to you. But it sounds like it’s used to being angry.
You manage a nod. “Yeah. I’m … I’m fine.”
You are absolutely not fine.
He looks at you for a beat longer, like he doesn’t believe you. His eyes—green and unreadable—flick to your shaking hands, then back to your face. “I didn’t ask what you say you are,” he mutters. “I asked if you’re okay.”
That catches you off guard.
You blink. “Why do you care?”
He shrugs, but it’s tense. Too tense. “’Cause I was in the neighborhood. And you were about to be a headline.”
You glance at the bodies groaning on the ground, then back at him. “You’re … a mutant?”
“Good eye.”
“Do you do this often?”
His lip twitches. “What? Save people who don’t want to be saved?”
That stings a little more than it should.
You don’t know what comes over you, but you say it. “I didn’t ask for help.”
Something dark flickers in his expression. But instead of lashing out, he just tilts his head. “You’d rather get hurt?”
You swallow. “I’ve had worse.”
He goes still. Not with anger, but with something quieter. Recognition, maybe. For a second, you think he’s going to push. But he just steps back, turning toward the alley exit. “Try to take a different route next time,” he suggests.
You hesitate for a moment before you ask, “What’s your name?”
He doesn’t turn around. “Raphael.”
And then he’s gone.
You stand there long after the footsteps fade. The two would-be attackers still groaning behind you, forgotten. Your hands are still shaking. But your heart? Your heart is steady.
And that scares you more than anything.
You didn’t expect to see him again.
Not so soon. Not here.
Yet there he is: leaning against the brick wall of the corner store, arms crossed, eyes scanning the street like a hawk. You want to turn and walk the other way. Maybe pretend you don’t know him. But your feet don’t move. Instead, you step closer.
“You’re still alive,” he says without looking at you. The corners of his mouth twitch, almost into a smirk.
You don’t smile back; you never do when people try to be clever. “Yeah, I’m still alive,” you reply flatly. “Thanks to you.”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. But you see the tension in his jaw. “Didn’t ask for thanks,” he mutters. “Just figured you owed me.”
You want to say, No; I owe myself for getting stupid enough to be in that situation. But you bite it back—because maybe you like that he thinks you’re worth the trouble. You glance up at the dim streetlight and wonder why you feel safer here with him around.
But you don’t say it out loud. Because you start to notice you’re looking for him. And every time he’s near, your breath catches.
You don’t admit to yourself that the danger he carries is a mirror to the one you hide inside. He’s reckless. So are you. You can feel it in the way your chest tightens when he’s angry or on edge, like an unspoken challenge.
He offers no promises, no safe harbor. Just his presence. A silent, angry shield between you and the world.
And somehow, that’s enough.
But one night, after a rough mission he barely mentions, you catch him alone, sitting on a fire escape, shoulders slumped. You hesitate before climbing up. He doesn’t look surprised. Just shrugs.
“You’re like a moth,” he says, voice low. “You keep flying toward the flame, even if it burns you.”
You swallow hard. The flame feels so familiar.
“Maybe I like the burn.”
He shifts, eyes sharp on you. “Why?” he asks. “Why risk it?”
You want to say it’s because you don’t care about the consequences. Because the pain feels like proof that you’re alive. Because sometimes the only way to feel anything is to let everything break. But instead, you shrug.
“Maybe I’m already broken.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches out, fingers brushing your arm. Gentle, careful.
For a moment, the world stops.
When you leave that night, something inside you aches. Not because you’re afraid.
Because you want to come back.
You see him before he notices you: standing across the street, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze is fixed on something … or someone. Your pulse quickens, even though you tell yourself to stay back. But you don’t.
You never do.
“Who’s that?” Raph snarls, his voice low and rough, eyes flicking to the figure walking close to you.
You barely glance at the stranger; he’s just a passerby, after all. But Raph’s fists clench.
“Relax,” you say, voice sharper than you intend.
But he doesn’t relax. “You don’t need anyone else,” he growls.
“I can handle myself,” you snap back, keeping your voice even.
But inside, a small, twisted part of you thrills at the raw edge in his tone. The jealousy. The anger.
Because it means you matter.
Later, when you’re alone, your fingers curl around the edge of a broken bottle you kept from a fight weeks ago. You trace the jagged edge absently, not because you want to hurt yourself—at least, not exactly. But because the sharpness reminds you that you’re still here.
Still alive.
Raph’s voice is in your head: “You’re reckless. You don’t care if you get hurt.” And maybe he’s right.
Maybe you don’t care.
He finds you again a few nights later, pulling you out of a bar fight. His hands are rough, his grip tight enough to hurt, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you watch his face. Watch the raw, fierce worry beneath the anger.
He growls at the other guy, then looks back at you. “You’re lucky I was around.”
You don’t answer. You don’t want to admit that you were lucky too. Lucky to be thrown into chaos, lucky to have someone care enough to fight for you.
That night, when the adrenaline fades, and you lie awake, your mind spins with memories: of fists and fury. Of sharp words that cut deeper than any blade. Of the strange comfort in knowing someone else is just as broken as you are.
You wonder if this is love.
Or poison.
You’re sitting on the fire escape near the alley where you first met, the city sprawled out beneath you. Raph leans back against the wall, jaw tense but eyes softer than usual. You pretend not to notice.
“Where’ve you been?” he asks suddenly, voice low, almost careful.
You shrug, tracing patterns in the cracked concrete. “Out.”
He’s not satisfied. “Out with who?”
You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze. “No one you’d care about.”
He snorts, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Try me.”
You glance at him, weighing the truth against the lies you’re already telling. “I just needed to get away.”
He narrows his eyes. “From what?”
You don’t answer.
Because the truth—that you’re running from yourself—feels too raw to say aloud.
The silence stretches between you, thick with everything left unsaid. Then, slowly, he reaches over, his fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, but it lands like a punch to the chest.
You don’t pull away.
The nights that follow are a blur of stolen moments and whispered promises. You lie to your friends about where you’ve been. Avoiding questions, deflecting concern. Meanwhile, Raph grows distant from his brothers, his temper shorter, his moods darker.
Between you, the tension simmers. Passion is laced with frustration; affection is tangled in mistrust.
One night, after a fight too heated to ignore, you find yourself nursing bruises. Some from him, some from yourself. You try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just the way things are.
“He doesn’t know how to love right,” you whisper to the empty room.
But even as you say it, a part of you wonders if that’s just an excuse to stay. Because despite the pain, you can’t imagine walking away.
Not yet.
The air between you is sharp enough to cut.
It starts small: a word said wrong, a look that’s too long. Raph’s jaw tightens. You can feel it even before he speaks.
“Why do you keep pushing me away?” His voice is rough, almost desperate.
You stare at him, your own walls rising. “Maybe because you don’t want me. Not really.”
His eyes flash with something: pain, anger. Something you don’t want to face. “Don’t say that.”
You laugh bitterly, a sound that feels like it’s coming from far away. “Why not? You think I care what happens to me? I haven’t cared in a long time.”
The words hang in the air.
Raph takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s not true. I care. I care more than you know.”
But the damage is done; you don’t answer. Instead, you turn away, trying to shut him out.
And yourself with him.
Days pass in bitter silence. Neither of you knows how to bridge the gap.
You tell yourself it’s just a fight. That it’ll pass. But deep down, a part of you wonders if this is the moment everything changes.
Then, one rainy night, he shows up at your door. Soaked, exhausted, but relentless. “I’m not giving up on you,” he says, voice raw.
You open the door, your defenses crumbling. And for a moment, all the hurt and anger dissolve into a desperate, shaky embrace. You don’t know how to fix what’s broken.
But for now, holding him close feels like enough.
The world feels smaller when he’s near. Like nothing exists beyond the tight circle of your shared space. But that closeness comes with a price.
Raph’s voice is low, almost a growl, as he watches you move through the lair. “Don’t talk to him again.”
You raise an eyebrow, trying not to let your pulse quicken. “Who?”
“That guy at the arcade. The one you laughed with.” His fists clench.
“I wasn’t—”
“I don’t care what you were. You don’t need anyone else.”
His eyes burn into yours.
You want to argue, but the words stick in your throat. Because part of you knows it’s true. You’ve pulled away from friends, avoided calls, canceled plans. Raph is the only one who sees you—the whole dangerous, reckless mess.
And you’re afraid of what happens if he stops.
Later that night, when the lair is quiet, you find yourself pressed against him. The kiss isn’t sweet. It’s urgent. Hungry. You want to pull away, but your hands are tangled in his mask tails, and you can’t stop.
Afterward, he whispers in your ear, rough and desperate. “I need you.”
Your heart thuds in your chest. “I know.”
But beneath the fire, the poison lingers. Every touch, every word carries the weight of what you’re both afraid to say—that this isn’t love. Not really.
It’s survival.
Today, the fight is worse than before. Words turn to shouts. Shouts to silence. Silence to bitter tears. You both break—not because you want to.
But because you’re too tired to hold it in anymore.
Later, when the anger fades, he pulls you close, whispering, “I don’t want to lose you.” You want to believe him, but you’re not sure if losing yourself is worth holding on. You need air. Not his air.
Free air—away from the suffocating tension of the lair that’s been closing in like a noose.
But when you tell Raph you’re going out, the look in his eyes darkens. “You don’t need anyone but me,” he snaps, his frame towering over you.
“That’s not true,” you say quietly.
His face twists, and for a moment, he says something that cuts deeper than any fight before. “Maybe you’re better off without me.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, the rage and hurt swirling inside.
So you slip out before dawn, wrapping your jacket tight against the cold. The city is quiet, but your mind is loud. For the first time in a long time, you meet up with old friends at a small café. Their laughter is familiar but distant, like echoes of a life you used to live. You try to smile, try to fit in.
But beneath it all, a hollow emptiness gnaws at you.
Meanwhile, back in the lair, Raph paces, fists clenched, heart pounding. When you finally return, he’s waiting, eyes dark and unreadable. “Where the hell were you?”
You stand your ground. “I needed to breathe.”
His voice drops, raw. “Without me?”
You swallow hard, trying to push down the fear that bubbles up. “Yes.”
For a moment, silence.
Then, a sharp edge to his tone. “You don’t get to just walk away.”
“Maybe I do,” you say quietly.
The words hang between you like a knife.
That night, back in your apartment, you sit alone, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. If I leave, I will lose him. If I stay, I lose myself.
Outside, Raph stands by the door, hands trembling, wanting to knock but unable to.
Some wounds don’t bleed. They live under the skin, tight and quiet and always aching.
Tonight, the old scar on your wrist burns. The kind you don’t talk about. The kind you stopped explaining years ago because people either pitied you or walked away. You trace it absentmindedly as you sit on the edge of your bed, the room dim, the air too still.
You think of the time before Raphael. It wasn’t better. Just … different.
You were already unraveling long before he showed up.
Later, he finds you like that: head bowed, fingers ghosting over the mark as if it’s still fresh. His footsteps stop in the doorway.
You don’t look up. “You shouldn’t be here right now,” you murmur.
But he doesn’t leave. He steps closer. Hesitates. “When?” His voice is hoarse.
You close your eyes. “Long before you. When I still thought pain could be a solution.”
Silence.
You finally lift your gaze, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no anger. No possessiveness. Just something scared. “I didn’t know,” he says.
“I never wanted you to.”
He crouches in front of you, trying to reach, but not sure how. He brushes your hand, barely touching. Like if he’s too rough, you’ll break. “I can’t fix this,” he admits.
“I know.”
“But I wanna try.”
You offer a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’re not the problem, Raph.”
It’s a lie. Or maybe just a mercy.
He swallows like he knows you’re lying but lets it slide.
Because maybe he needs to hear it more than you need to say the truth. Neither of you says it out loud, but it’s written in the silence.
This is killing us.
It happens fast.
One second, you’re ducking behind him—the next, you’re stepping in front. You don’t think. You never think when it comes to him. The blade meant for Raph catches your side, carving through skin like water.
You crumple.
Everything after that is noise.
He’s yelling. Fighting. Screaming your name like it’s the only word he remembers. You try to speak, but the pain swallows everything. Your fingers are sticky with blood. His hands are on your face, your chest, your side. Panicked, trembling.
“No, no, no—you’re okay, I’ve got you—stay with me—”
You want to say, I’m sorry. You want to say, I chose this.
Instead, you black out.
When you wake up, it’s quiet. Sterile. You’re not in your room, but you’re in the lair, in a med bay Donnie must’ve rigged up. You blink slowly.
He’s there. Sitting on the floor beside the cot, arms draped over his knees, shell pressed against the wall. His eyes are red. Not angry-red.
Broken-red.
You whisper his name.
He doesn’t look at you. “Why did you do that?”
You already know the question isn’t about the fight.
You answer anyway. “Because I love you.”
His jaw tightens, breath shaky. Then, finally, his eyes meet yours—and there’s nothing in them but devastation. “I love you,” he says, voice hollow and hoarse. “That’s why you have to go.”
You freeze. “What?”
“You’re gonna die if you stay. Not from a fight. From me.”
Your heart twists. “You’re not the reason—”
He cuts you off. “I am.”
“I see it in your face every day. You’re smaller around me. Quieter. Sadder. You keep letting me choose you … over you.” He swallows hard. “So I’m making the choice this time.”
You try to argue, but nothing comes out. Because part of you has known this was coming for a long time. It was never going to last.
Two fires trying to survive in the same oxygen.
It’s been weeks. Maybe months.
You stopped counting after day seventeen—the day you realized you could breathe again without guilt in your lungs. There are still bad nights. Still shadows. Still moments where your hand flinches to reach for someone who isn’t there.
But you’re better.
Not whole. Maybe never whole again. But alive in a way you forgot you could be.
You moved. Got a little place above a bookstore downtown. No one knows what you left behind. They just see the new routines, the steady hands, the forced smiles turning real.
You work. Rest. You go out with friends again. And sometimes, when no one’s looking, you press your hand to your side where the scar is and remember.
You don’t see him. But some nights, you feel him. In the dark corners of rooftops. In the sound of a shadow slipping away just as you glance back. You pretend it’s nothing.
But you know it’s him.
He never approaches. Never speaks. Just watches. Sometimes for minutes. Sometimes for hours. He’s careful not to be seen. But you were once a part of him—and part of him is still tangled in you.
He keeps the necklace you left behind.
Wears it wrapped in a piece of red cloth, tied under the strap across his chest, hidden. It smells like you.
Like the old version of him that believed love could last if you held on tight enough. But he doesn’t reach for you anymore. Because he understands too late that love isn’t meant to strangle.
Still, when he watches you smile—for real this time—a part of him breaks. And he lets it. Because maybe this is what love really looks like. Not keeping. But letting go.
He turns away as you disappear inside the bookstore. The night swallows him whole. And in the quiet, to no one but the wind, he whispers:
“Even if it’s poison … I’d drink you all over again.”
Okok first off all I love your writing omg like fr😭🫶
Second: may I request a tmmt 2012 × nonbinary reader (if you dont do that just do fem reader 😭)
But like Imagine reader being insecure about their body- wanting to work out to feel more comfortable and fit, but too scared to go to a gym, so they ask one day donnie if they could help reader out and then reader starts accompanying the turtles in their training sessions and all that. They actually start to see improvements in their physique and get so happy about it ranting to the turtles about the improvements 😭
A/N: Ah, thank you so much! 🥹
For this, I decided on a non-binary/gender neutral reader. I wasn’t sure how much of a romantic undertone you wanted, so I left things implied and left open for the future. I hope you enjoy it! 💖
The Shape of Belonging (fluff/mild angst)
💚 2012 Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚
CWs: Body image issues including negative self-talk, anxiety, mentions of physical exertion/discomfort (training), and themes of self-acceptance. All characters are aged-up.
You’ve never liked mirrors much.
It’s not that you hate your body exactly, but it feels like there’s a … dissonance. You run your fingers over your arms, your waist, your shoulders. They don’t feel like you. Not quite.
You long to feel capable, to move with a sense of ease, to look in the mirror and not immediately catalogue a list of perceived flaws. You want to feel strong. Despite trying various online workout videos at home, your motivation has always been fleeting. But walking into a gym with fluorescent lights and judgmental stares? Yeah, no thanks.
You’ve been sitting with the discomfort for a while now. It creeps into your thoughts when you’re alone, when you’re scrolling on your phone, when you’re trying to sleep. And finally, after one especially restless night, you swallow your anxiety and head to the lair.
Your friends, the turtles, are always training. Always honing their skills. They move with such power and grace, their bodies honed instruments. Their training is intense, practically a daily ritual for them. And they have a whole dojo. So you go to the only person you trust with the science and the heart to help you figure it out: Donnie.
You find him in his lab, hunched over some contraption, goggles slipping down his nose. You hover near the doorway for a second, fingers twitching at your sides. “Hey, uh, Donnie?” you venture, voice a little shaky.
He looks up from a tangle of wires and circuits before pushing his goggles up. “Oh—hey! What’s up?”
You shift on your feet, hesitating, eyes flicking to the floor. “Um … could I maybe ask you for a favor?”
“Of course,” he replies, turning to give you his full attention. “Everything okay?”
You twist the drawstrings of your hoodie, avoiding his gaze. “It’s something kinda personal. I’ve been thinking about … working out. I’m trying to feel better in my body. But gyms make me anxious.” You look at him, a nervous laugh escaping you, before the words tumble out in a rush. “And I was wondering, since you guys train all the time, if maybe y’all could help me? Or I could join you sometimes? If it’s not too much trouble.”
He blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Yes, you can train with us. I can help devise a regimen tailored to your current fitness level and goals.” His enthusiasm is a warm wave, washing away some of your immediate fear.
“You mean it?” you ask.
His expression softens in a way that always makes your stomach flutter. “Yeah, of course. You don’t need to go to a gym. We’ve got everything here, and I’d be honored to help you out.” He smiles. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
The relief that hits you is almost overwhelming, and you nod, trying not to tear up.
The next day, you’re in the dojo.
You didn’t expect all four of them to be there, but maybe you should have. Donnie wouldn’t keep something like this from his brothers—not if he thought you’d be joining them. And you’re glad.
They’re all stretching or warming up, and you’re hovering near the edge, unsure. Donnie gestures you over. Leo greets you with a calm nod, his gaze assessing but kind. Raph grunts a quick hello, arms crossed, but his eyes linger on you a little longer than necessary. Mikey bounds over with a grin, beaming so hard it’s impossible not to smile back.
“Just follow my lead,” Donnie says gently. “No pressure. We’ll go slow.”
And so it begins.
Your breathing is ragged five minutes into the warm-up. Even the simplest katas leave your muscles screaming in protest. Your arms shake during planks. You lose balance during basic kicks. You feel clumsy and uncoordinated next to the turtles’ fluid movements. But nobody laughs. Nobody stares.
Donnie is patient, though, constantly adjusting your form, explaining the mechanics of each movement, and offering modifications when something is too difficult. Raph assists with your stance with surprising care, his fingers warm on your shoulders. Leo praises your focus. Mikey makes you laugh between sets, even when you feel like your limbs are going to fall off.
You feel a little out of place, at first. But they make space for you, like you belong there.
And slowly, you start to.
The first few sessions are brutal.
But Donnie walks you through every movement with endless patience. Raph gives you a nod of approval when you push through a tough set. Mikey high-fives you with enthusiasm, like you just won a gold medal and keeps your spirits up with jokes and encouragement. Leo pushes you on discipline and tells you your form is improving every time you come back.
And you do come back. Again and again.
Leo helps you with balance drills. His hands are firm and steady when he corrects your stance, and each brush of his fingers sends a quiet thrill through you. He doesn’t say much, but when you catch his eye, there’s something in his gaze: focused, admiring.
Raph is rougher around the edges. He pushes you a little harder, watches a little closer. But when he sees your arms tremble during push-ups, he’s the one who drops to the mat beside you, doing them in sync. “You ain’t quitting on my watch,” he mutters, but the softness in his tone betrays him.
Mikey cheers you on like you’re an Olympic athlete. Every small win—a longer plank, a more solid kick—he celebrates like it’s the most amazing thing in the world. He brings you water between sets, wipes imaginary sweat off your brow with dramatic flair, and gives you nicknames like Muscle Monarch.
You groan every time, but secretly? You love it. And more than once, his goofy antics make you laugh so hard you forget how tired you are.
Donnie remains your primary guide, meticulously tracking your progress on a datapad he’s designed specifically for your training. At first, it feels embarrassing, the idea of him measuring your effort. But he never makes you feel judged. Instead, he shows you graphs of your increased stamina, your improved strength, the way your resting heart rate has lowered.
Days eventually turn into weeks.
You show up, you sweat, you ache, and sometimes you want to crawl back into bed and never move again. But you don’t. You keep going, fueled by their quiet support and a growing flicker of determination within yourself. Your routine becomes part of their own. You stretch beside them, sweat with them, push yourself a little harder each time.
Donnie builds custom routines for you. Mikey brings you post-workout smoothies he swears have ‘serious chakra-vibes.’ Raph doesn’t say much, but he’s always watching, always ready to jump in if you need help. Leo includes you in the team meditations, sitting close enough that your knees nearly touch.
You’re not imagining the way their attention lingers. You’re not imagining the way your stomach flips, warm and fluttery, when one of them grins at you like you’re the most impressive thing in the room.
Because there are moments, small but electric.
Moments when Donnie catches your eye as you hold a perfect plank, giving you a smile that lingers longer than usual. When Raph presses a water bottle into your hand after a rough set, his fingers brushing yours. When Leo offers to stretch with you, his hands resting at your hips as he adjusts your posture.
And Mikey, who hypes you up with ridiculous compliments before falling uncharacteristically quiet as he watches you flex with pride.
Then it happens.
One morning, you’re pulling on a pair of jeans you haven’t worn in months, bracing for the familiar uncomfortable feeling. Except now, they sit comfortably on you. Not too tight, not digging in. You stare down at yourself, then rush to the mirror in your bathroom—the one you usually avoid.
For once, you don’t feel the urge to look away.
You turn this way and that. Is it your imagination? No. There’s a subtle shift in the line of your shoulders, a new firmness in your arms. You run your hands down your sides, feeling the way your clothes drape differently. A small, tentative smile touches your lips. Later that day, you hoist a heavy box of books you were dreading moving, and it feels manageable. Lighter than you remember.
The real revelation comes during a training session.
Donnie has you doing a circuit he’s designed, and you’re halfway through a set of burpees—an exercise you used to despise with the fire of a thousand suns—when you realize you’re not gasping for air and you’re easily keeping pace. You finish the set, a little breathless, yes. But not utterly defeated. You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers, a grin spreading across your face.
As you towel off, you can no longer hold it in.
“You guys, you will not believe this!” you blurt, bouncing on the balls of your feet.
They all look up, intrigued by your sudden outburst.
Concern flickers over Donnie’s face. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No! Nothing like that.” You’re already waving your hands, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I saw myself in the mirror and I look different. Like my arms? There’s actual definition. And my posture isn’t slouched and weird anymore! And I think I can finally do those side planks without toppling like a sad noodle!”
Mikey lets out a whoop so loud it echoes through the dojo. “YESSS! That’s what I’m TALKIN’ about!” He practically tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.
You laugh, half out of joy and half because Mikey is squeezing the air out of you. “Mikey—air—lungs—”
“Oh, sorry!” He lets go, only to hold you at arm’s length and give you a full once-over. “Wow, check you out, Superstar!”
You feel your face heat at the nickname; something about the way he says it now makes your heart trip over itself. “It’s not that big a deal,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.
“It is a big deal,” Donnie says, walking over, towel slung around his neck. His eyes are warm, proud. “You’ve been consistent. You’ve worked hard. That’s what matters. Not just the physical change, but the fact that you made it happen.”
You glance down at your shoes, but his words hit something soft inside you. Your chest tightens. Not in a bad way, but in that weird, overwhelming emotional way that makes your throat feel thick.
Raph saunters over next, arms crossed, looking a little more earnest than usual. “You should be proud,” he says. “You earned every bit of it.” Then, with a crooked smirk, he adds, “Knew you had it in you.”
You catch Leo’s gaze just over Raph’s shoulder. He hasn’t said anything yet, just watches you with that quiet, focused intensity of his. The look sends a little zing through your spine.
Finally, he walks over. “You’ve changed,” he says simply, voice low. “Not just your body. Your energy. You move with more confidence. You look like you believe in yourself now.”
You blink. Of all the things he could’ve said, that hits the hardest. You feel seen—not just in the mirror.
But by them.
You huff out a laugh, trying to shake the sudden wave of emotion. “Okay, okay, you’re all gonna make me cry.”
Beside you, Donnie chuckles and gently bumps his knuckles against your arm. “Don’t worry, tears are not known to reverse muscle growth.”
Mikey throws an arm around your shoulder. “We gotta celebrate! Post-workout victory pizza time!”
“Actually,” you say, looking around at them, “I think this is the celebration. Being here with you guys, feeling like … I belong.”
“You do belong,” Leo says, voice steady. “You always have.”
You feel your throat tighten. You don’t have the words for how grateful you are—for the space, the support, the strength they’ve given you. Because for the first time in a long time, you feel at home in your body. Not because it’s perfect. Because it’s yours, and you’re reclaiming it.
And you’re not doing it alone.
They made room for you—and maybe there’s also room for something more too, tucked between sweat and shared smiles. Between glances that linger too long. There’s the possibility that this bond between you and them could grow into something deeper.
But for now?
You grab Mikey’s hand and pull him toward the kitchen, laughing as he cheers. Donnie follows close behind, muttering something about adjusting your macros. Raph nudges your shoulder as he catches up and hurries ahead. And Leo walks beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. You see their faces, their expressions open in a way you’ve never seen before.
You’re not just growing into your body. You’re growing into yourself. And they see it. They see you.
And they’re falling for the person you’re becoming, the person you’re meant to be.
