Quick reminder for fanfic writers both on here and ESPECIALLY on AO3…
If your main character has a name and described appearance, DO NOT use the character x reader tag. Like…seriously.
That is an OC. Use the “x oc” or “x original character” tag. Stop using the “x reader” tag. It will not give you more reach because people looking through the “x reader” tag aren’t going to read it. Three guesses why.
You are also making the filtering system null and void, which is harmful ESPECIALLY for archival sites like ao3 where the tags and filtering system are specifically there to make things easier. It’s basic fandom etiquette guys. Common sense and consideration for others. It won’t kill you to tag things correctly.
CWs: Possessive/territorial behavior, scent marking, the guys acting a bit feral. Considering the subject matter, it’s not a stretch to say that these may be somewhat NSFW, but not super explicit. All characters are aged-up.
LEO
Leo is lounging on the edge of the skate ramp, tossing one of his katanas in the air with practiced, bored ease. When he sees you enter, he flashes you that classic cocky grin. But the sword fumbles in his grip the second the wind shifts.
The silence that follows is deafening.
He drops from the ramp, landing silently, moving with the fluid grace of a red-eared slider. But the water is turbulent today. His eyes narrow, scanning you, zeroing in on the collar of your shirt. He smells his twin.
“Donnie?” he asks, though it’s not really a question. His voice is light, but there’s a razor blade hidden in the tone.
He circles you like a shark in open water. He stops behind you, and you feel his hand clamp on your shoulder, trapping you in place. Then, he slides both hands under your jacket, pulling you back against his chest. He noses at your hairline, inhaling the scent of his twin, and gives a mocking scoff.
“Boring,” he whispers, his lips grazing your earlobe.
He spins you around, pinning you with a look of intense, possessive heat. He drags his nose along your jawline, rubbing his cheek against yours, effectively wiping away the other scent. His hands wander lower, cupping you, pulling your hips against his to make you feel exactly how jealous he is.
“I’m going to ruin you for him,” Leo promises, his voice a sultry purr. “By the time I’m done with you, the only name you’ll be screaming is mine.”
He kisses you then, demanding and deep, intent on marking every inch of you until the scent of his brother is nothing but a distant memory.
RAPH
The moment you step into the lair, the air in the main atrium grows heavy.
Raph emerges from the projector room. He doesn’t greet you with his usual teddy bear warmth and snaggle-toothed grin. Instead, his nostrils flare, and a low rumble starts deep in his plastron. He stops inches from you, his shadow swallowing you whole.
“Leo,” he grunts. He doesn’t ask; he knows. The scent of his brother is a stain on your neck, a neon sign of a challenge.
Before you can explain, his large hand encases your shoulder. He crowds you against the nearest wall, his size effectively caging you in. Raph is an alligator snapping turtle—a creature of instinct and force. And right now, his pupils are blown wide, eclipsing his normally kind irises.
He leans down, burying his snout into the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply before letting out a sharp, angry hiss. “He thinks he’s slick,” he growls against your skin. “Leaving his mark on you like he owns you.”
He nuzzles you, the texture of his skin scraping deliciously against your pulse point, replacing the lingering trace of Leo with his own scent. He bites down gently on your neck, just enough to make you gasp, his tongue swiping hot and wet over the spot immediately after.
“I’m gonna cover you in so much of me that you’ll forget he even exists.”
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze dark and hungry. Raph intends to stake his claim so deep inside you that no amount of scrubbing will ever wash him away.
DONNIE
The lab is loud with the sound of welding and music, but the moment the sensors at the door recognize your biometrics, the noise cuts out instantly.
Donnie spins in his chair, a rare, genuine smile forming—until he smells it. His smile flatlines. He stands up slowly, the mechanical spider limbs of his battle shell unfurling from his back, betraying the agitation he’s trying to suppress.
He smells the chaotic, vibrant scent of his younger brother all over you. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s incorrect.
“Calculated probability of you visiting Michael before me was low,” Donnie states, his voice monotone, masking a brewing storm of possessive rage. He walks toward you, his movements stiff. “And yet, here you are. Contaminated.”
His hands clamp onto your waist and shoulder, pulling you closer. He examines you, leaning in and sniffing the air around your neck with clinical precision, his face twisting in distaste. Then he cups your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.
“I don’t like sharing,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and dilated, “and I certainly don’t like sharing you.”
As he presses his forehead against yours, his battle shell disengages and retreats back to storage, revealing the soft shell underneath. He begins to kiss down your throat, methodical and wet, placing suction bites in a perfect geometric pattern over the areas where Mikey’s scent is strongest.
“I’m going to conduct a thorough recalibration,” Donnie breathes against your skin, his arm sliding down to tease the hem of your pants. “We aren’t leaving this lab until your biometric readings are exclusively synchronized with mine.”
MIKEY
You expect a flying tackle-hug and a loud “Omigosh!” Instead, when you walk into the kitchen where Mikey is cooking, he freezes mid-chop. The knife lowers slowly to the cutting board.
The playful box turtle vibe evaporates, replaced by an uncharacteristically terrifying stillness.
Mikey turns around. He’s not smiling. His face is blank, eerily calm, which is infinitely scarier than him yelling. He smells Raph on you, and it triggers a primal, bratty defiance in him. He walks over to you, wiping his hands on his apron.
“You smell like Raph,” he states. His voice is soft, but it lacks its usual bounce. It’s deep, flat, and laced with possessiveness. “Why do you smell like Raph, angel?”
He wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. Then, he tightens his grip. He looks at you, his eyes wide and pitiful, but underneath that puppy-dog look is a feral gleam.
“Did he touch you?” he asks, his hands wandering, gripping your rear firmly, pulling you into his hips. “Did he think he could just take you? Because he’s the biggest?”
He lets out a low growl. He hates it. Hates that his brother’s scent is clinging to his person.
Suddenly, he spins you around and hoists you up onto the kitchen island. He steps between your legs instantly, prying your knees apart with his thighs to settle himself firmly against your center.
“I hate it,” he hisses, again burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply before dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin there. He rubs his cheek aggressively against your chest, your neck, your jaw, acting like a cat that’s terrified of losing its territory.
“We aren’t leaving this kitchen,” he vows, “not until I know that the next time Raph walks by you, all he smells is me.”
Bayverse!TMNT and the sacrifices for their human girlfriend
Leonardo:
If his girlfriend's life is on the line, Leo will completely shatter the ninja code of secrecy. He would march out into the middle of Times Square in broad daylight if that is what it took to save her, fully exposing the existence of mutants to the world without a second thought.
He would willingly disobey a direct order from Master Splinter. If Splinter told him that rescuing her was a tactical trap that endangered the brothers, Leo would hand over his twin katanas, step down as leader, and walk out of the lair alone. He would rather become a rogue ninja and lose his title than lose her.
Raphael:
Raph would drop his pride entirely. If an enemy had her cornered and the only way to save her was to surrender, the angriest, most aggressive brawler in New York would literally drop his sai and fall to his knees. He would beg. For Raph to look an enemy in the eye and say, "Take me, let her go," is the ultimate destruction of his tough-guy ego.
On the flip side, if an enemy hurt her, Raph would break the "honorable combat" rule. He wouldn't fight fair. He wouldn't care about the ninja code of discipline. He would unleash a level of sheer, unhinged brutality that would genuinely terrify his brothers, completely abandoning his self-control.
Donatello:
Donnie would completely abandon reason. If she was caught in a situation where she only had a 0.001% chance of survival, the logical move would be to retreat and regroup. Donnie would ignore the math. He would throw himself into an entirely suicidal mission, letting pure, irrational emotion override his intellect for the first time in his life.
To keep her safe from the Foot Clan or TCRI, Donnie would break every digital law on the planet. He would hack government databases, delete her existence from public records, drain the bank accounts of anyone who threatened her, and turn city infrastructure into a weapon. He would weaponize his genius in a way that crosses every ethical line he usually upholds.
Michelangelo:
If his girlfriend is threatened, the jokes die immediately. He would stop holding back. Mikey is arguably the most naturally gifted and agile of the brothers, but he uses his nunchucks playfully. For her, he would drop the flashy tricks and become a cold, ruthlessly efficient weapon.
Mikey would be willing to permanently lose his innocence. Master Splinter taught them to incapacitate, not destroy. But if someone put their hands on the woman who made Mikey feel like he belonged in the world, he would cross the line from vigilante to executioner, sacrificing his own sunny soul so she wouldn't have to get hurt.
Do You Know What You’re Doing? Bayverse! Turtles x Reader Headcanons
💌 this is based off of a tiny little tiktok trend i’m seeing… people post specific and in-depth things that their s/o does that attracts them :) figured i’d give it a go with the bay boys. a little broad but that’s likely because this was instead written a little more suggestive than i had initially planned. but… who’s complaining? lmfao
if you’re wondering… trend: ‘things i find extremely attractive’ on tiktok
synopsis: the turtles are attractive and things get explicit.
Warnings: NSFW, suggestive, 18+. MDNI. All characters aged up
Leo:
I’d like to believe that Leo, in private, genuinely finds the idea of overpowering people intriguing. He’s learned to do better, KNOWS how to do better when it comes to controlling his attitude– but you give him some leniency with it.
In the scenario where you and he decide to participate in this—"this" meaning being generous about how much of a sassy, authoritative, commanding turtle he's allowed to be—approach with caution. By God, he takes full advantage.
It’s not like the relationship he has with his brothers. Not ridiculously domineering, no. He knows when to act like an actual man.
But he is a tease.
“What?” He would sneer. Clicking his tongue, tilting his head, pouting at you when you don’t get your way.
Again. That’s only in private. He treats you like royalty in the presence of literally anyone else.
I have an idea in my head that he’s definitely the type of individual to enjoy reading books.
Classics, of course, but he gets these (cough) frisky ideas from romance books. No doubt.
That’s where Leo would learn how to do all of this romantic kinky shit to you. No social media, as he’s likely absent from it– maybe visits a few “how-to’s”, but other than that, when it comes to his romanticism tactics; it’s all literature-based.
He’s into begging. Matter of fact, I’d say it’s one of the biggest things he’s into– he loves when the words coming out of your mouth are simply words of want. You want him to do this to you? Him, of all people? You gorgeous being, you. It boosts his damn ego, plain and simple.
Leo got into this by fault of his own. Blue had gotten his hands on a romantic book that consisted of some fairly explicit adult content for the first time; lord knows how he got it. Probably found it in a trash bin on patrol, the cover looked nice.
Had no idea what the book consisted of. Picked it up. Couldn’t put it back down. Discovered something new about himself that day.
It was from then on out he started to hide his growing book collection from his family. Maybe he sets the more acceptable ones out on display… sure.
In PUBLIC, honor boy is a completely different character.
He’s respectful.
Holds the door open, buys you food, aids you with care like no other when you’re sick. Something as simple as a slight headache has him dropping everything to come baby you without having to ask.
That’s all you have to do: ask. That’s it.
If you ever get back from a date night, feet tired from wearing heels or a painful shoe all night, you best believe that man is swooping you right up and off of your feet with the shoes dangling in the other hand.
Leo’s a big fan of back-of-hand/knuckle kisses. It’s one of his favorite ways to show his respect to you, even if he acts the opposite when you’re alone ;)
He just likes getting a rise out of you… tease that man, for God’s sakes. You won’t regret it.
This is just an extra… but he absolutely loooooves helping you zip up your dress. Slowly. Surely. Matter of fact, just follow him to the bedroom, it doesn’t need to be zipped up anyways.
Raph:
We know that Raph hates being excluded from decisions, major or minor.
That’s why it’s his number one priority to make your voice heard.
He WILL make sure that you stand out in a group setting. That man is used to being left out of group conversations. If there’s one thing he can do to show his attention, it’s giving you his own undivided attention; even if that means forcing the rest of the group to listen to what you have to say.
He doesn't care if he has to fight to do it. By all means, speak your truth.
When it comes to people that aren’t his own dearly loved and immediate family, Raph is more of a socially anxious being! Contrary to popular belief, yes. It’s true. He may come off as a hot head… probably because yes. He is. But the dude knits in his free time. He hates people. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… I’m almost 99% he’d be on the introverted side if he were to be publicly accepted.
Speaking of knitting!
Gift giving is his looove language 💕
When winter rolls around, he’s knitting you a blanket and you don’t get a choice but to use it and KEEP it.
When Spring rolls around, he has you bring that blanket back to the lair so he has some sort of scent remnant of you.
It’s really no surprise as to why he wants it. 🙃
On a different topic, I’m also a firm believer that he’d be allllllll over kissing the scars on your body.
So what, you think they’re ugly? He has them too. He thinks they look cool. But oh, they look so much better on you.
Stretch marks. Scars. Injuries of the like. They show a journey and he is so unbelievably down to prove it to you.
Speaking of proving things to you….
Raph likes loves when you speak out against him. It gives him all the more reason to take your two hands in his giant green one and use that shit against you.
You wanna talk about how much you hate your body? How much you think people hate you for who you are? How shitty of a s/o you think you are?
Try saying or proving any of that when one hand is grasping two of yours and the other is over your mouth.
You’re not able to say anything, regardless. Your mind is too busy on other things ;)
Like Raph’s voice, for one. He’s vocal! And is WELL aware.
Spring, he despises; he misses you too much. However, he never allows you over, as he is far too terrified of harming you.
Because he has no control over his actions for the week (at most), you’ve been tasked with staying home. Spring, in its entirety; SUCKS– but Raph will be a trooper for ya’.
It’s only about a week’s length where spring fever hits him like a train. Yeah. A week’s length is all you have to stay home… without him.
So. Before that week starts, he gives you the worst hickies known to mankind.
They’re deep and purple. He only does it so when he sees you again, those feelings come flooding back! It’s like his season, but he’s aware this time. Hell yeah! And he’s got his girl for this round!
As long as you don’t cover them up, Raph treats you just fine. Unless you request otherwise. He’s down for anything you ask of him… Red is desperate.
Donnie:
There’s no telling when a spicier mood will hit him.
But there are signs…. and one is a dead giveaway.
It’s around three in the morning, one night. You decided to stay over at the lair with your genius boyfriend and his family; it was getting late, anyways.
There’s shit scattered all over the lair. As you trudge to grab a snack from the fridge, you manage to step on THREE things: Mikey’s Stuffed Animal, trash that Leo had begged Raph to pick up, and an aluminum wrapper of a strawberry Pop-Tart pastry that Donatello had been particularly fond of.
Speak of the devil. (He’s such a deep sleeper, how could he have heard you?)
Donnie’s voice, laced heavily with sleep, floats from the doorway.
The turtle in purple (and probably sweatpants) would mumble a silly question about why you’re up so late. He approaches, warm hand finding your waist as he leans past you to retrieve his prized juice box from the fridge— pausing before he realizes why you were probably in this exact spot, too.
"Would you like ‘n orange or an apple?" He sleepily murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss there before pulling back and wrapping his arms around you.
You don't answer, too distracted by how his thumb traces circles just above your hipbone, the scaly finger sending shivers through your sleep shirt.
It’s not with any intention at first. But… it does grow into some.
He likes how warm you feel against him. He likes how he can use you as a headrest. He likes how he can just think about you and nothing else on his mind. None of those stressors from his work are present in his mind just yet, he’s too focused on you.
Donnie, who is most often perceived to be “in-the-mood” after a long day at work, is actually most often “in-that-mood” when he wakes.
He’s been snoozing for a bit and has nothing on his mind. He’s zoned, he’s sleepy, he’s cozy… and you’re warm… come here, will you?
Donnie's fingers continued along your waist, calloused skin tracing the hem of your sleep shirt. His body remained pressed against yours, weight shifting as he buried his face deeper into your shoulder. You could feel the slow, even rhythm of his breathing against your neck, warm puffs of air raising goosebumps along your arms.
You felt his lips press against the curve where your shoulder met your neck, lingering there, hot and damp.
A little noise– soon discernable as a moan– slipped out from your lips.
You’ve got two seconds to decide whether you want to go back to his room or let him lift you up on the counter before he decides for you.
(someone remind me to post a mini one-shot for that scenario someday. it’s sitting in my drafts)
When Donnie IS of a more conscious state, there is no scenario that man loves more than having you in his lap when he works.
Any time you walk by, he’s waving you towards him with a finger. Or a nod of his head.
You can straddle him, cuddle him, sit in front of him while he works. Donnie doesn’t care. As long as he gets to hold you.
His hands will drift. Waaaaay further than they should be allowed to with that lab door of his wide open.
When he’s awake, he’s very into overstimulating the shit out of you. But he’s, and, this is hard to explain or put into words— nice with it? He talks you through it. Makes sure you’re okay even though you’re seeing stars while he whispers to you. Is pecking kisses upon kisses down your body.
And, of course, helps clean you afterwards.
When he’s sleepy, like previously mentioned; he likes sitting you on top of his thigh once you get back in the bedroom. He gets to watch you receive pleasure all while being able to control how much you get and when. What’s more to love?
His sleepy voice, that’s what. It’s raspy and his voice cracks more than it already does on the daily. Hell, it makes you want to be the one helping him out.
He won’t let you. He takes you in his arms and conks back out instead. 💤
Mikey:
Mikey always loved parties. Even better— he loves taking you to aforementioned parties.
Even if it’s not your thing, he sticks with you the entire time. The sweet tangerine turtle will place his hand on your back ever so slightly, wanting nothing more than to ease you mind of this rambunctious place; oh, what’s that? You want to ditch and get some fresh air?
Say no more.
He's already found the perfect place, temperature-wise. If you've made a statement about being too warm, great! He's already found a secluded place with just the right amount of breeze to keep you comfortable. Too cold? Mikey's jacket is coming straight off of his waist and straight onto your body.
He has this way of making you feel like you're the only two people there, even in the middle of a thousand-person crowd.
He'll lean in close, breath warm against your ear as he whispers some ridiculous commentary about the people around you. Mikey is great at distracting you. Making shitty experiences seem bearable for what they really are.
He looooves taking you on solo walks around the venue you're in; he pays EXTRA attention to what makes you light up as you walk past. If there's a specific vendor... for example, a dessert or drink stand if you're at a party, you best believe that man would watch his wallet run dry if it meant seeing you happy.
He's not the kind to take you out to an ice cream shop and only buy YOU something because YOU were hungry. He'll get something, too! Probably one of those seasonal flavors that sound goofy... cereal milk? That one screams 'Mikey' to me.
As the night becomes too much, and the moon carries on, you two have probably found your way back to the lair. Or, your apartment. Whichever.
Of course, when it's just you two and Mikey's attention is on you, he goes from crowd-pleaser --> pleasure-giver.
Contrary to popular opinion, he’d take it slow!
Even if he’s been with other people before, if that’s a general headcanon of yours— you’re one he genuinely cares about. Mikey’s been eyeing you for ages. Now, he’s finally got his hands on you. Slow and steady, he’ll take it— unless asked otherwise. He wants to remember this remember you.
Mikey LOVES taking the lead, and generally prefers it, but only if you explicitly offer it. He will never force a thing, but if you give him the reins, you aren’t getting them back unless you ask nicely 😂
This doesn’t take away from the fact that he also loves when YOU take the reins! Please. By all means, tell him what to do. He is not going to complain. You may actually get him to listen for once in his life 🤷♀️
Mikey is a huge (!!) fan of praise; if you compliment him or tell him how good he is at being in charge, he'll work even harder to ensure you're taken care of, confirming that he's earned the position you gave him.
Looking into it, maybe this comes from him being the youngest! He likes being able to take authority, especially when it’s in something he’s good at with someone he loves.
Reciprocal touch and reassurance are absolute musts for him; he needs to feel you reaching back just as much as he’s reaching for you. If you run your hands over his shell or pull him closer, he practically melts. He’ll often ask if he’s doing a good job or if you’re enjoying yourself, not out of insecurity, but because your verbal and physical confirmation acts like straight gasoline for him. It sets him on fire, gets him going, it’s his fuel. Seeing you lose yourself in the moment because of something he’s doing is the ultimate ego boost for him, and he’ll reward your praise with even more focused attention.
The aftercare with Mikey is legendary and arguably his favorite part of the whole experience.
He’s a total cuddle bug. He will WRAP HIS LIMBS around you like a koala and refuse to let go.
He’ll bring you water, of course, find your favorite snacks, and maybe even put on a silly cartoon just to keep the atmosphere light and cozy. He’ll then pepper your face with tired, happy kisses and whisper about how much he loves you until you both drift off. :)
And then he’ll wake you up with his snores. Because I know he does. He absolutely does.
Prompt: "What's your type?" - In which you're asked what your ideal partner is, and they fit the bill.
Variant: 2012! TMNT (Characterization fits for Bayverse as well aside from a few 2012 plot refs.)
Characters: Leo, Don, Raph, Mike
Format: Headcannons ^-^
Warnings: None.
Request: N/A. SenchaOriginal
From teens way in over their heads and the world on their shoulders, to seasoned young adults that are still guessing how to make it in this crazy world. In the years you've been friends with the Hamatos, April O'Niel, and Casy Jones, you've never shown romantic interest in anyone. Not a hint, always the type to keep your cards close.
While vigilantes, highschool dropouts (*cough*Casey*cough*), and mutants alike - everyone has a type. A want for a special connection. Even if romance and friendship created drama that felt so small compared to the world turned upside down. It was those small conflicts that made everyone still feel like normal teenagers in the past. Even if many loves died out or never had a chance. C'est la vie.
Everyone had their story to reflect on and endure some nostogic teasing over...except for you.
Until one evening, when everyone's together in the lair in celebration of April being promoted from writing the daily horoscope to being an actual, bonified reporter for NY Times. Finally, out of the office and onto the field.
The Hamato brothers share in their favorite pizza, fighting over who gets the last slice of cheese when the only other option is Mikey's jelly-bean-and-habenero experimentation.
Meanwhile April, Casey, and yourself idle on the side with a few drinks. The brothers never partook, one of their few rules as on-call ninja. Intoxication wasn't a risk worth taking when there are other indulgences to relax with.
You weren't much of a drinker yourself, always willing to be the designated driver whenever April wanted a girls night out. Yet tonight you were all safe in the lair, and she was so happy that you figure a margarita won't hurt. Not enough to get hammered, but you were feeling the flush in your cheeks early on and the burn in your veins just turned from uncomfortable to toasty warm. Everyone's having a good time for what feels like months of grinding, and you're happy to idle as they all chat away.
Right when you go to lick the salt rim and ease off with some water, both April and Casey seemed to conjoin their remaining brain cells. When April slides off her seat to squeeze in next to yours, you cock a brow mid-suck on a lime wedge.
"Y'know...there's something I always wondered about you but never had the guts to ask." She said, her words slurring on their tails yet not incomprehensible, and your interest piqued.
You take a sip, putting a pin in grabbing water. "You shouldn't be afraid to ask me anything, April. I have nothing to hide from family."
That's all she needed to hear.
"Okay...biting the bullet then, but do you have a type?"
Ah.
You stiffen just as Casey slings his arm over your shoulder. He reeks of cheap beer bought from some guy behind a seven-eleven.
"Uh," your tongue hangs to dry, "I beg your pardon?"
Casey groans, "Dude! It's not that hard of a question. Do you like, got, anything? For the whole..yaknow..." He waggles his eyebrows too close to your face for comfort, and you shove him off on instinct. He hits the concrete ground with a weak groan. Yup. Definitely cheap beer.
"I was expecting a genuine concern, not some latent teenage gossip," you snicker, still with a bit of your wits.
Aside from Mikey and Raph sharing a high-five at Casey's expense, you miss how the brothers' conversation drifts to a standstill.
"Oh c'mon," April rolls her eyes, "you're so overdue for this it isn't even funny! Let loose for once in your life!"
Your lips purse, unsure if the flush on your collar is from the alcohol or how curious she seems to be. April's doe-eyes glaze over as she fixes you with the same dejected look that got her the bed back at the farmhouse, while you slept in a cocoon on the floor.
Casey pulls himself to a tilting sit, clutching his head.
"Not cool man," he shoots you a weak glare, "not cool. I bet you reproduce by...by...mee-toe-says...or whatever it's called."
From a few feet away Donatello scoffs under his breath, ''It's mitosis, you lug. Crack a book."
It's not that you don't have any interest, but there is someone in this very room that you would prefer to not connect any dots. With a friendship so precious it wears the cloak of family, you have been exceedingly careful to not lose what took so long to build.
"Please? Just a bit of gossip? We're basically blood, how does it look if I don't at least know wat kind of fictional character you like on tv!"
See, sober April would never say something like that. Yet with sweat dripping down your ass and Casey thinking he's smart by subtly pouring a bit more vodka out of the communal pitcher and into your cup...the mind slips.
Before you can gather some common sense, the buzz takes initiative. You feel better, a bit looser, and decide to let yourself speak unfiltered for the first time in years.
"Fine," you sigh and stretch to kick Casey square in his back for the earlier jab, "I do have...a preference, I guess. It's..."
Leonardo
“Mmm. The responsible sort. Yes, darlin'. Look at you paying your taxes. So so so sexy, mhm. Kill that spider for me. Fold that laundry. Vacuum under the couch. Be punctual to your appointments. Text me you’re home safe at night and I’m already halfway there. Love me enough to tell me when things need fixin’ for us and be part of the process.”
Pause.
Hard pause, because what spirit just posessed you to speak like that? Leo cannot recall a day in your shared time where your words ever came so dazed and soaked in honey. He’s known your compassion but is this what the voice in your head sounds like?
Leo is a turtle that respects boundaries. He was one more push from Casey from inserting himself into the conversation and bailing you out. Yes, it was April's big night. Yes, the gossip is relatively harmless.
Okay. Maybe the second statement isn't true. You are under the influence and may have regrets tacked alongside a hangover tomorrow.
And he? ...while Leonardo was curious, he was also afraid to hear the answer. Master Splinter raised the brothers to face their fears, to not let them control their actions, yet he was also raised to be a gentleman. Aged past your shared troublesome youth, he would not press for more. Having you in his life was already enough. The turtles could only welcome so many into their lives.
Complicating what you had with romance was too risky...and while Leader, there were some fears even Leo had trouble recognizing. Let alone internalizing and acting on. He had so much to learn before he could be on par with his Sensei.
Maybe he never would be. Maybe life was just meant to always have that feeling of something to risk. He didn’t know, and no one could offer an answer.
He always thought you would find a human in time. Like April and Casey found each other. Someone that might pull you from the Hamatos circle and into a life that resembled normalcy. Someone he and his brothers would have to welcome. For all his fears, Leo didn't think you would be with anyone they couldn't trust. You would never leave them. You were too devoted…a blessing, and a guilt on his shoulders.
You were smart. Careful. You always listened if they had a concern, even Mikey with his superstitions. If any of his family did not approve, you would cut the chord instantly. He wondered for a time if that pressure is what kept you from making long lasting connections with other humans. That it was their fault.
Leo thought about the type of person you'd spend your life with more than he should. He had no right, no claim to you, but it was always a matter of 'when' in his eyes. Not an 'if,' because who wouldn't want you? Someday. Somehow. You’d get there, and the circle in this room would change, and he’d have to accept it.
He just never had a clear picture of who YOU wanted...and now that he does? He isn't sure what to do with the information.
So he is the one to grab you that glass of water, steal that last slice of good pizza for your stomach, and offer his bed until you're sober enough to go home.
Yet when the party is over, and everyone's dispersed? April and Casey knocked out in the conversation pit. Raph to his room, Mikey at the TV, and Donnie off to tinker away in his lab...
Leo scrolls through his phone while sitting outside his bedroom in case you need him, shell against the door, and clicks your chat. While more of a 'phone call' guy than a texter, he's never once forgotten to tell you when he's back home safe and say goodnight.
Raphael
“Someone a lil’ wild, like - yes king. Let’s paint the town on a Monday night. That’s right. A work night. Ghost pepper nachos and the shittiest daft punk on hand. Remind me that I’m alive and not just surviving, and I’m yours.”
Barks a laugh. Except it’s not funny. Not one bit. Raphael is instantly put in the position of second male lead in his life.
He is not an idiot. That description is too specific to be about a general population. The hooded look in your eyes suggests that you have someone in mind and no one else will do.
Raph’s a guy that likes his privacy as much as the next. At first he found your reclusive nature off-putting. You were too much like an adult for him to vibe with when he was a teenager, but after the Kraang invasion? He understood. Shit happens that we can’t control, and it makes us that way
Someone always has to step up to the plate. While the start was full of wariness and distrust, Raph was just worried for his family. Humans never did them much good and he couldn’t read you like April, or relate to you like Casey.
Yet he always respected you.
If you ask when that changed to something more, he wouldn’t be able to name an exact moment. More like the attraction was always there. It takes a strong person to lay down roots in a concrete canyon like New York. You didn’t talk, but you were always there.
In his eyes, you probably had a life of your own up top. Some guy buying you flowers that none of them knew about. Did the thought piss him off? Yeah. It did, but you had a good head. No one’s going to be worthy of you in his eyes, but you look happy most days when he swings by your balcony. So you can have your secrets. He’ll leave it be…which for Raph, is basically a testament in itself.
All this is why Raphael can’t help but laugh, because that ideal description of yours fits him perfectly. He could walk into his room right now and find a shit daft punk CD from the 2010s in under ten seconds. He could jump from rooftop to rooftop with you in his arms until you have no choice but to look as the ground closes in. He could do it all on a work night, pick you up when your thread is thin and show you what it’s like to be young. To exchange flow in the way he once thought impossible.
Yet this faceless bastard gets the privilege to put that hooded, infatuated look on your face. When the only thing he has that Raph doesn’t is five posable fingers.
He’s human, and Raph’s not. All those times he reminded Donnie back when they were, and how humans could never look at them in that way, were really just freudian slips.
Raphael tunes out the rest of your conversation, sparing just enough of his effort to grab three glasses of water. No favoritism.
While the three shitfaced humans sober down, he goes to get some punches in on his old training dummy. Stuck in his mind like he’s been for years, Raph misses how your glazed-over infatuation never strays from his shell.
Donatello
“Functioning brain cells. If I don’t need to think my responses through then I don’t want him. Call me a masochist but I like to work for it. I have to look at him and know we’re not the same puzzle, but two that when put together crack the code of life. I need a man that can handle a whole woman and keep the chemistry. Pun intended.”
Donatello never fully recovered from his feelings for April. She would always be his first. His first friend, his first human contact, his first lab partner, his first crush.
Yet she wasn’t his first love. It took time and much reflection, but at some point he realized that what he felt for her was a deep seeded admiration. She was the first person to take his work seriously and genuinely express an interest in him as a living, sentient being. That protectiveness he felt for her was love, but not the romantic kind. He was just so afraid of all those firsts being taken away.
So yes. April will always have a special place in his heart. Her rejection also lead to him building carefully constructed walls around the organ.
Donatello had to accept that he could never be someone that he is not, and rather than looking for someone who has what he is ‘missing,’ he should hold his heart in hand and wait for the one who compliments it. If they never come, it would be okay. There are many forms of love.
Donatello was content to be as he was and care for the people he considered family and friends in his own way. He would not force anything.
Which is why when you spoke those words, his pulse jumped. His breath hitched in his chest, coming out a wheeze through his front teeth.
The ideal you described was exactly the same as his. Donatello wasn’t afraid of a challenge and he hoped that one day there would be someone who looked at him and thought he was the equation they were meant to spend years theorizing over.
And you…felt the same. He always suspected you were of alike minds on the matter. Was he curious why you never sought company? Certainly. Yet he understood how hard it was to open up, show someone all the gears that make your heart tick.
When he was still hung up on April, you helped him bare those pieces to her without judgement. And when he had to move on, he had to find the strength alone, but you helped him think of a new system for his cogs. One that still had April in it, and still had space for hope.
You were special. Always. To him. There has never been a doubt in his mind of that.
Which is why Donnie wonders, even if it is a fleeting moment, that if he cracks his chest open and lines his gears up next to yours…would they create something brilliant? Maybe with you, he might find that final first.
Michelangelo
“Silly billies. Like…golden retriever energy, y’know? If I don’t know you love me then we’re not meant to be. If I feel comfortable telling you that I just ripped a fart higher hit than MJ’s ‘teehee’? It just won’t work. When we get 4:00 am gas station sodas together and high off life itself, then I’ll have found my man.”
Michelangelo always knew you had a silly side. He has a sixth sense for this kind of thing, trust. Getting you to laugh was one of the easiest things in the world, because while you held back? Dr. Prankenstein never missed. There was always the gentle shake of your head before helping him out of a mess. The crinkle of your eyes when someone made a fart joke or anything April told him belonged at a playground.
You were way simpler minded than everyone thought, and Mikey was the one to figure it out first.
Whoopie cushion. Toothpaste filled Oreos. ‘Kick me’ signs. Off-tone singing while on a drive in the Shellrazor (purposeful, but he won’t admit it). Nights tucked under the blankets with old cartoons and buttery popcorn fingers.
You loved all of it.
And that meant a lot to Mikey.
Deep down, you were just as silly as him. He saw the cracks of yellow in your soul. If he had to draw it, the aura would be a meld of carnation and ivory. Except Mikey kept his energy high, his smiles big, so that his family would never get too serious - and you? You restrained that childlike wonder, so that when times got tough they could join in alongside him.
You held it together, but Mikey knew that the little things were what kept you…well, happy. Sparkling. Yeah. You could be a buzzkill sometimes…but it was usually because you cared. You never got mad unless someone was hurt really bad or told a lie.
From the very beginning, Mikey liked you. A lot. Buzzkill moments and all. He smiled big for his family, but for you? He did it just right. You were golidilox, and he was the perfect porridge. Enough to pull the carnation from where you hid it away when you least expected it,without losing your mix of ivory.
And he was confident that no one else could be the perfect porridge. Human. Mutant. Whatever. Maybe he was scared to act on how he felt, but that’s just because of timing. It was never good enough. Stupid Shredder. Stupid Foot. Stupid Kraang. Stupid people screaming when he tried to snag a few flowers of some lady’s balcony.
When you answer, Mikey’s already across the room. April yelps when he plucks you from the chair, spilling margarita and sending the other two humans to fall in on their own weight.
He spins until your laughter turns to a gag, and then makes a mad dash for the bathroom with his brothers yelling after him for being too reckless. Maybe so, but Mikey will make sure that tomorrow you’ve got a reason to smile through the hangover. After your guts empty and he snags you that 4am soda.
Reader asks Donnie (Rise) If he would leave them for Uranium lol🤣
rise donnie x reader
“Are you still mad at me—” Is all Donnie can get out before you slam the window shut. He has just enough time to wrench his fingers out of the way from being crushed but he does end up falling off the side of the building he had just scaled.
He sighs, laying in the cold, hard concrete.
Yes, he realizes he made a mistake. But you had asked him when he had his head shoved in the underbelly of a car. He had been distracted! He hadn’t been thinking clearly! He obviously wouldn’t pick uranium over you… Maybe.
Oh, and now it was raining.
He purses his lips, thinking. How could he make it up to you?
He quickly climbs the building again, forcing open your window. He crawls in, noticing you hiding under your covers on the bed.
He sits on the side of the bed, not even flinching when you kick out a foot and nail him in the side of his thigh. He does take that as an opportunity to grab your ankle and pull you out from hiding.
Oh. Are you crying? That’s not good.
He curls an arm around your waist to heft you up into his lap, feeling you go limp in his hold. He positions you so you can see his wrist tech.
He… reluctantly… brings up a file he has stored.
“These are—were my plans to infiltrate a very, very secure base filled of the brim with a specific type of uranium I wanted to use for some of my projects.”
You eye him silently and he can tell that you’re furiously trying to keep more tears from falling. He tightens his hold around you, feeling guilty.
“I was going to go in a few months, but…” He makes sure you’re watching as he hovers his finger over a giant red button with a trashcan on it. “As proof to my loyalty to you, I will be deleting this and swearing an oath to never use uranium. Ever.”
Your tears slowly evaporate. You curl more towards him than away. He thinks he solved the problem.
He just won’t tell you that he has a backup of this document on his computer.
