content: 18+, riding, Leo is annoying (affectionate)
The stark dichotomy between the Leo you know, your reliable best friend, your hype man, the one who nuzzles into your neck when refusing to let go of you and get up in the morning, and the Leo currently underneath you is startling.
You've seen this side of him before, of course. With Donnie during the Lair Games — "Second place, huh? What's that feel like?"—, with Mikey, whenever the two of them get lost in some essentially stupid competition, aching to prove everything through proving nothing. It's just never been directed at you before.
"What, tired already? Come on, you gotta put in some effort, babe."
The sleazy grin he's wearing is the same he's had when ordering his brothers to stand in honour of the five time champ while he speaks, arrogant humour bleeding through. Back then, you barely managed to stifle a giggle — Leo still noticed, practically beaming at making you laugh —, the high of your boyfriend being the best and being aware of it thrilling, leaving you to swoon a bit more than you'd ever admit.
Naively, you assumed you'd never be at the receiving end of his mean side. Past you was a fool.
"Are you, though?" Leo drawls, absentmindedly tracing patterns onto the curve of your hip. When his touch skates over your abdomen, you suck in a trembling breath. "Because I'm not seeing a lot of moving or bouncing. Thought you said you wanted to ride me and, what? Make me cry from pleasure? The only one crying here is you, sweetheart."
"I am", you snap, voice sharp and thighs trembling. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you hope they leave marks. "I am putting in effort. Help me out or be quiet."
At the time, you didn't take his brothers' frustration seriously. Now, you get their urge to make him pay.
You grit your teeth, jaw tense. Your eyes are definitely not watering. "This is harder than it looks."
Leo pauses mid-movement to level you a flat look. "I hope you appreciate how much self-restraint it's takin' me not to make that joke right now."
You hate him, and tell him as much.
It gets you a laugh in response, wheezing. "Sure you do", Leo croons, sitting up straighter, back against the headboard, and you choke on a moan as it jostles his dick inside of you. "Now c'mon. I wanna see you do this."
Your legs ache and you've barely started; oh, you're so choking on your bold claims from before, having severely underestimated how exhausting actually doing the work is. You're used to Leo on top of you, rutting into you with warrior's stamina, not showing even a hint of exhaustion. This is — well. A full gym session with Raph would be easier.
Holding onto his biceps for stability, you rise up on your knees, whimpering when only the tip stays in, then sink down again, body shaking with the strain. This shouldn't be this tiring. You occasionally work out in your free time, damn it—
Repeating the motion makes you whine low in your throat, sweat beading on your forehead. Your knees feel weak. When you move just right, he hits a spot inside that makes you clench, pleasure sparking up your spine, though when you shift again, muscles unwilling to support you for long, the rush of endorphins disappears.
At least Leo's also affected. When you take a moment to pay attention, he's trembling, plastron heaving. Your eyes drag up to his face, expecting flushed cheeks and the tense set of his jaw he gets whenever he's close, wanting evidence that this is good for him, too — only to be severely disappointed.
He's laughing at you.
Shaking with barely restrained wheezes, Leo's eyes are squeezed shut, his grin wide enough to make your blood boil. Pointedly, you rake your nails down the tough skin of his arms, barely leaving shallow welts that you know are bound to heal in literal seconds.
"I hate you so much." You both know you don't mean it, could never, but you force your glare into fierceness nonetheless. "I'm doing my best here; what are you contributing, exactly?"
"Sorry, sorry." Leo nearly chokes on a chuckle. "It's just — jeez, that looks near painful. Like you're actually suffering. Guess you're destined to be a pillow princess, huh?"
You scoff, though, by now, the idea of passing the exhausting part to him is not unappealing. You've proven your point, or at the very least tried to; the frustration of this not getting anywhere, arousal merely simmering underneath your skin, is overwhelming.
"You're not funny." A pause. "Whatever. Just get on with it."
Leo's grin turns sharp. "Bossy. I like it." At your eyeroll, he blows you a kiss, and bucks his hips up. His hands hold tight onto your torso, pulling you down at the same time; your spine arches, head falling back with a moan. You'll never get used to the pace he sets, strength effortless.
His grip shifts, wrist bending just so his thumb gets to draw tight circles around your clit while also keeping you in place, and, alright, you think, maybe you can forgive him for being annoying and arrogant after all.
Credit where credit is due. He's the best at making you feel good.
the. the creature. he's so boyfriend. had to write for him before getting sucked into another fandom (current options: Tokyo Revengers, Haikyuu, JJK.)
Something something Leo and wax play something something
Him having you tied to the bed and blindfolded while he drips hot wax from a candle directly onto your body and comments on how beautiful you look and how you’re being so good for him right as he pours more on your nipples and drags it all the way down your torso and stops right above your sex—
I love that burlesque dancer reader thing and was wondering if you can do a 03 Leo scenario where he felt extra possessive after Reader told him of a bad day they had?
I SURE CAN (2 yrs later)
ANYWAY, sorry she's so short :(
Warnings: Uhhh Leo getting a lil too passionate and 'over protective' hehehoohoo
Leonardo, for the most part, considered himself a reasonable mutant. He was responsible, vigilant, honorable, patient, and (not to brag) a pretty good partner. Whether it was to his brothers, friends, or you.
But right now he didn't feel like any of those things, not when you were actively crying in his arms after relaying 'the most awful terrible day' (as you put it) you had.
"And then to top it all off! My keychain broke... the one you made me." You whine softly against his plastron, sniffling and tracing the random deep lines that made it up.
Leo had so much to say to you, more than just 'I'm so sorry, blossom' and 'Just let it out, love.'. Words could only comfort you so much and while Leo knew he was good at that, he wanted to do more.
He wanted to kiss your tears away, hold you tight to his chest and never ever let you out of his sight again because the risk of you getting hurt (what if it was physically?) was far too great and he couldn't have that, no no no no no--
Leo blinks when he registers how quickly his thoughts derailed. When has he ever thought like that? Sure he was protective over his loved ones and may or may not have been strict in following rules and code but...
He would never treat you like a prisoner, he'd rather fight with no weapons against Shredder than ever keep you locked up.
But that's not what he's doing nor would he ever, no for now all he can do is just squeeze you as tight as he can and kiss your head while you continue to go about your day and cry it out.
"Oh my blossom. If I could take the today and rewrite its history for you then I would." He nuzzles his face against you. "I'd be sure that nothing bad came near you and made sure you'd have the perfect day."
The sentiment is nice, heartwarming, and you raise your head to kiss his jaw tenderly. His cheeks grow warm and a tender smile crosses his lips.
"It's true, I would." He murmurs as he turns his gaze downward to you. "I'd die a thousand deaths to be sure that your days were always perfect..."
Now that sentiment was... different. Leo wasn't one to shy away from dramatics you knew that but this was certainly something.
"Leo--"
"I don't like when my lady has an off day of any kind. You deserve nothing but the best always and forever."
His arms tighten a fraction around you, one shifting to cradle the back of your head and guide into the crook of his neck. You can only blink slowly, moving your arm to wrap around his waist and rest against his shell.
"It's just part of life, Leo. Nobody ever has 'the perfect day' but I appreciate you going all 'protective' over it." You murmur and kiss his plastron.
'Not it. You.' He corrects in his head.
'And not protective...' He thinks after a moment, unable to stop the next thought from rolling in.
'Possessive.'
He can physically feel the change in his body when that word pops in and for the briefest moment, he wonders if he could tail you tomorrow and make sure you have ‘the perfect day'.
Hello dear, may I ask somethingfor Leo 2k7? I want some fluff about kisses and consent, the reader had a abusive relationship in the past, so she want give to Leonardo a oportunity but at the same time she is little scare.
I love your content <3
HELLO ANON THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST
Im finally getting to the ones in my inbox if my followers could not tell sdkjcndjc
Warnings: nothin but FLUFF!!!! remember that consent is SEXY!!!!!!!
"Hey, we don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You know that right?"
You know that, of course you know that. Leonardo has been nothing but patient, kind, understanding and every other green flag under the sun towards you ever since you started dating. Hell, even before that, when you first met he was already accommodating to you.
He could tell with one look that you had been through the wringer, the way you couldn't look anyone in the eyes for more than half a second and how you always seemed to try and make yourself smaller.
They met you through April, who took you under her wing as her protégé after you approached her at the end of a seminar she hosted. You got along splendidly well and after some time, she decided to introduce you to her friends.
Surprisingly, you took it quite well coming face to face with giant turtles and an equally as large rat, muttering a 'hello' and averting your gaze back to the ground.
Leo remembers that day clearly and sometimes it amazes him how you went from that to this; cuddling with him in his bed with his hand rubbing up and down your arm. He was propped up on his elbow, eyes soft as he takes in your nervous state.
He calls your name gently, curling a knuckle beneath your chin to lift your gaze to him.
"Talk to me."
Try as you might you can't avoid his stare, not totally. He's aware of your horrid past relationship for you had confided in him within the first week of getting together. He offered to go and hang your previous partner from the rooftops by his ankle, give him a little spook and although it did make you smile, you told him it wasn't necessary.
He was careful with you always, cautious in his movements and always always double (even triple) checking with you if what he was doing was alright. Over time you got more comfortable speaking up and he was proud of your progress.
But he knew it wasn't always linear.
"I'm scared." You admit quietly.
"Am I scaring you?"
"No, never."
"Then what is it, love?"
The million dollar question and one that she could never fully answer.
It wasn't that you haven't kissed before-- small pecks here and there and flurries against each others cheek. But this was different wasn't it? Multiple kisses in one go, a make out, even though that term didn't quite fit what Leo wanted to do currently.
"I want to kiss you-- nothing more in this moment right now. Your word means everything right now and always. Okay?"
His grip changes to cupping your cheek, smoothing his thumb just under your eye and being sure that you're looking directly at him as he speaks to you.
It makes your heart clench in the sweetest yet most nerve wracking way. You nod but he immediately shakes his head.
"You have to say it, angel."
You swallow hard and lift your hand to cover his, curling your fingers against his own and taking a moment to relish in his comforting touch.
"Yes."
"Yes...?"
"Yes, I would like to kiss you too."
Even then he still gives you time to change your mind, going slow as his lips get closer to yours. He doesn't move when he makes contact, keeping the pressure light and only continuing to brush your cheek and down the length of your arm.
It's when you actively start kissing him first that he reciprocates, moving his lips over yours and letting out a small quiet churr of happiness.
You don't know how long you kissed for. What you do know is that you want to do it again and again, memorize the texture of his lips on yours and burn the shape against your own.
And eventually, you'll learn to overcome your past ordeals and kiss Leonardo and do more to your hearts content.
Leo watching you practice whining in his mirror before you go out with April and Sunita for the night.
It’s mostly absentminded, he assumes, from the softer rolls you start with that eventually evolve into fluid movements that could leave any onlooker flushed. Your nose is slightly scrunched, eyes focused as your hips meet the rhythm of the beat your brain’s settled on. There’s a soft hum in the back of your throat, but he can’t parse if it’s meant to be an older RnB tune or something else he doesn’t recognize.
You add a bounce to your rhythm, timing it with the soft grunts you murmur from your chest at each pivot from your hips.
He wants to tug you in by your waist, help you wade through whatever beat you’ve decided in your brain while he fingers press indentions to your skin. He wants to push his beak in your neck and nuzzle til he finds a pulse to nip. He really wants to bend you forward and test how well your whining can hold against his hips pressing into your most sensitive spots-
“Leo,” His eyes quickly bounce from their keened peering of your waist, now stationary, to the puzzled focus of your face. You still aren’t fully looking at him, “I’m raiding your closet.”
He rakes a glance over your current getup. He couldn’t possibly know what you’d need to spruce it up, but, “I’m not gonna stop you.”
You move about like it’s nothing, your steps barely scraping the ground as you find your way to scrounge through his belongings. A t-shirt flies here, a belt tugs over your shoulder, his groovy bell bottoms nearly smack him in the face, but he can’t seem to care as he watches you handle his stuff without a hint of discomfort.
Part of him wants to beg you to stay in, stay here, and practice your whining in his mirror again. Instead, he commits it to memory: the soft smile as you ramble about the bars you plan to hop, the light touches of your fingers as you handle his belongings, and the trill of your excitement layered in the way your hips seem to pop with each step.
Sweet pizza supreme, he loves you, loves this.
“Hey,” You turn with a grin, brain turning with ideas. You jump a little once you notice he’s next to you, “Want me to bring anything home-,”
He presses a soft peck to your lips, chaste and warm despite his cold disposition. He leans into another and another, pulling giggles from your throat.
HUZZAH!! Your reqs are open again! I love the leo fic I asked for a little while ago, thank youuu 😭
And I hope you enjoyed your vacation! If you don’t mind, I would LOVE a continuation of it. One where the tension between leo and the reader is so strong that Leo just has to make a move, whatever move that may be. I was hoping for smut but it’s up to you how spicy you make it.
-🦉🌸
I HEAR YA LOUD AND CLEAR BABE
Part 1 here!
Warnings: overstim, mean leo?? Kinda?? He keeps going after you finish
You’ve been training Leo for weeks now and with every session he loses a little more of his sanity. You were already so toned but with each meetup you two had, he could see definition in your physique increasing and it only made his stomach twist and turn every time he got to touch you (or whenever you took him down).
He could feel his patience thinning every session and if he didn’t know any better, he would say that some of your movements were purposeful, discreetly aiming to brush against the sensitive parts of his plastron and shell. ‘Accidental’ grazes, lingering looks, a fire in your eye that wasn’t just from fighting with him.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’, he’d tell himself.
‘It’s just training.’
‘Just… training…’
And even when he found himself in this predicament, with his plastron pressed flat against your back, your hands and knees holding yourself up and his breath fanning over your sweaty neck, he still chose to believe that you didn’t put yourself in this position on purpose.
“What do you do?” He clears his throat to be-rid the itch, licking his lips while trying to focus on anything but the way you look pressed beneath him.
You’re silent for a few seconds before arching yourself into him, a poor attempt to knock him off. Christ you’re barely putting your all into it, it’s almost like—
“Seems I’m just trapped under you.” You say, voice low and just the slightest bit gravelly. You look over your shoulder at him, the silence thickening every second and it’s like something sparks in the air with the heated gaze you’re giving each other.
Leo wets his lips again and shifts his arm to slowly cross around your front, fingers skimming just above your pelvis.
“What if I were to do this? What then?” He had leaned in closer to whisper directly into ear, his warm breath making you shiver and you didn’t do anything to repress it.
Steadily you place your hand over his, giving a small squeeze and make no attempt to remove it.
“Do you… want me to do something about it?”
His heart practically shoots out from his ribs when you ask that and his fingers curl against your body. You can hear him audibly swallow, snout nudging against your ear.
“If this were a real situation, you’d be dead by now.” He whispers, allowing himself to run his lips up the shell of your ear.
“I guess it’s a good thing it’s not then, hm?”
Oh you were playing a very dangerous game with him.
Still, there’s a nudging voice in the back of his mind, the one making him question if you were genuinely into him or just doing all this for your own fun, despite you making a glaringly obvious hint. You feel Leo momentarily tense behind you and you look over your shoulder to face him.
“Something wrong?” You murmur, taking in the detail of his scaly and scarred face. God you wanted to touch him, feel the texture under your fingertips, against your stomach, in between your thighs, on your tongue—
“No." He answers, his gaze sweeping over your face, fingers flexing against you once again. "I just..." He laughs nervously, "I don't want to do something without your clear consent."
Fuck you could kiss him right there (even though the angle is a bit awkward).
"You have my consent, Leo. My trust, my permission... everything." You mumble, letting your eyes trail and settle on his lips.
You hear and see how his throat shifts when he swallows, how his pupils dilate.
And then he's kissing you; slow, careful, methodical.
The position is a bit uncomfortable on your neck but you don't care, especially not when he moves more forward and cups your opposite cheek to hold you steady.
It's a sweet kiss, his far larger mouth being so so delicate with your smaller one that you forget that you're trapped beneath him. Even though you're not exactly fighting to free yourself.
You're right where you want to be.
The kissing was nice, wonderful even, but Leo wanted more. He wanted to touch you, taste you, make you cry and see how you'd wither from his doings.
So he stops kissing you, splays his hand flat across your pelvis and nudges your ear with his snout again.
"I'd like to go further if that's okay with you." His voice vibrates against your back and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on more.
"Yeah? How so?"
He gives you time to back out or say something when he gives a small tug to the waistband of your bottoms, but when don't stop him that's when he takes the plunge-- literally.
His other hand on your waist clutches you tightly when his palm grazes over the patch of hair on your pelvis, the texture of it has him churring directly in your ear and when his fingers trail lower and make contact with your sex? Well he just can't help but gather the slick that formed there and start spreading it all over.
Leo wasn't exactly an expert on these things, admittedly his only knowledge came from books (and the rare erotic video). But he does know how to read people's expressions and right now it's crystal clear that his ministrations are doing wonders since your breathing turned heavy and you 'subtly' tried rocking back against him.
So he takes it a step further and starts skimming his lips across your cheek, moving his hand faster and shifting his other one to cradle your jaw.
He tries so so hard to prevent his cock from slipping out but even he can't resist the tempting thought of rutting against you while he pleasures you. So he does exactly that-- allows just the tip and some more to peek out to grind against your backside and fuck does it feel good.
The rhythm, the hushed panting, the secrecy of trying to stay quiet to not alert the rest of Lair only added to the intimacy of the moment and when you hear that throaty 'fuck' from Leo? Well you just can't help it when your hips start grinding harder against his weeping cock and take one of his thick fingers into your mouth.
He ends up guiding you to lay your chest flat to the ground, keeping your ass lifted so he can keep grinding himself against you. He's grunting and groaning directly in your ear, his warm breath fanning across your already sweaty skin and with every stroke you feel yourself nearing the end.
"Mm'sorry, I'm gonna-- ugh, I'm gonna--!" He grunts out, putting almost his full weight against your back as he fucks against your backside harder and faster while doing the same to you with his hand.
His last few thrusts are harsher against you as he climaxes, the sticky warm substance immediately seeping through the material of your pants. His hand movements grow sloppy but it's still enough to get you to finish as well, sealing your lips around his digit and whining sweetly.
You twitch in his grasp when he keeps going, stroking your sensitive sex and churring deeply with every poor attempt you give to clamp your legs shut. You only succeed in trapping his hand and pressing him more against you.
He finally relents when beg him softly to stop, huffing against the floor and nearly in tears (who knew the leader in blue had a thing for overstim?).
When he tugs his hand out of your pants, he brings it up to your faces and makes a show of how shiny and sticky his fingers are.
Wait, When Did He Get Hot? (Always. It's Always. [2012!Leonardo x Fem!Reader] Pt. 6
A/n: I think this is my longest chapter so far? Don’t quote me, please! Don't know if I'll keep the trend of new chapters getting longer. There’s at least 2 chapters left now, unless I change my mind or something! Timeline is kinda silly so I’ll explain it if asked, but it’s nothing that ruins immersion (I think! Seasons 4 and 5 are real walking timeline shenanigan stuff). Please enjoy, I bit my left hand’s nails to get this done 🩷
Warnings: arranged marriage (not really mentioned this time tbh), reader is an alien (very plot relevant, esp here), slight language (I don’t remember tbh tehe I blacked out certain portions of this), Leo openly checks reader out in this one, the EPF is here (and as incompetent as ever), another rambly chapter
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~
Raphael has really been getting sick of witnessing this train wreck. It’s been a weird ride, really, the kind you never could guess the conclusion of just from watching on the sidelines. There’s been numerous times he’d assumed that this whole situation would finally be done with.
And yet, his oldest brother and one of his closest (only) friends can’t seem to get it together.
April swears it’ll all work itself out, that they’ll figure out what they want and then they’ll all finally get peace. He can’t find himself to believe her when she’s also a train car in a closely related but somewhat different locomotive based incident.
It takes a crumpled flier for him to realize that they’ve finally reached a climax.
It takes Leo pacing the groomsmen fitting room for him to realize how ruthlessly serious this all is for his brother. And, knowing it’s really not the greatest idea, Raph gets help from his friend’s sister to plot a way for his idiotic, eldest brother to finally talk all of this out and finally put a portion of everyone out of their misery.
Raph didn’t realize it would take even longer for any of this to amount to anything.
And, man, he’s really hoping he gets best man at this wedding when it finally happens, because this is really fucking annoying…
It’s late into the night and he’s getting Chompy a teeny snack to help him get back to sleep, but he’s not too tired to miss the creeping footsteps that happen to lead to the turnstiles. And he’s not too tired to peak his head out from where he’s hidden behind the kitchen counter, eyes catching the tails of a familiar blue bandana just as they jump the metal contraption.
Raph grits his teeth as assumptions fly to his brain as to why Leonardo could possibly be sneaking out again when he fairly recently promised he wouldn’t sneak away for any more secret infiltrations without letting them in on it. He tosses between following his reckless leader to whatever situation he’s about to tumble into or pretending he didn’t watch Leo jump the turnstiles in favor of properly caring for his tiny son waiting on the late night snack he’s already plated up…
…
Raph is really starting to regret tailing his idiot brother. He could be back in the lair, snuggled into his bed while he listens to Chompy’s sleepy breathing, but instead he’s playing chase to ensure his oldest brother isn’t getting into trouble, again.
He fights pressing his fingers into his temple once he recognizes which block they’re on. He really can only sigh as he watches Leonardo tug out the spare key and tug open the apartment window.
“Hey, bro bro,” The real disbelief, however, is their youngest brother. He’s practically lounging, happily set up with a few snacks and an old, sling chair. Mikey’s too comfortable. He holds out an open bag of candy, “Spicy gummy worm? He’s going to be in there a while…”
Yeah, this is getting really pathetic…
~~~~
(Y/n)’s learned a few things about Bishop over the last couple of months.
She’d already known how formidable of a fighter he was from witnessing how easily he’d pummeled her friends the first time they’d interacted. A few other scuffles on the space ship left her more than grateful she’s his pupil rather than his enemy.
It was easy to pick up on his intelligence from how easily he’d supply information to others in, mostly, digestible ways. She’d filled notebooks to the brim with the excess knowledge he’d supplied to her and he happily reread them and corrected her spelling for any words she’d never even thought of putting together.
He’s deathly serious about everything and certain types of humor fly over his head. His sarcasm, however, is on a level beyond taught understanding.
He's the only alien inhabiting that body that she’s ever seen manage to make the face smile. The lips slightly quirk up and a shine comes to those lifeless eyes that make her hope her future is just as bright as he presses.
He cares a lot more than the other Utrom on the council, so much so she's watched him be reprimanded by the others like he’s a child. Yet, he’s always going to be the most mature of the set in her eyes.
She listened to them go back and forth the whole trip back to Earth. It’s his job, as Earth Ambassador, to communicate space conduct with the planet’s leaders, but the remaining parts of the council claim he’s too generous in his handling. (Y/n)’s sure she disagrees out of her biased perspective. She’s learned the hard way not to get involved in their squabbling.
However, she sees first hand how often General Griffen takes Bishop’s kindness for granted. He’s loud and wrong very often, rude beyond compare, and too old schooled for his own good. The Earth Protection Force soldiers under his authority act as bumbling fools, but (Y/n) can never tell if it’s due to his direction or if they’re naturally that idiotic. They make her understand why Earthlings have a bad wrap in other parts of the universe.
She hates dealing with the EPF.
Bishop, in his growing, eternal kindness, keeps her by his side as much as possible. She’s thankful for it. It helps keep her from feeling as out of place.
Unfortunately, this placement presents her with the biggest headache of the whole operation. General Griffen doesn’t like to be told he can’t shoot weapons at the powerful space lizard, regardless of how many times Bishop explains she’s more than likely there for a purpose.
There’s a news broadcast on in the background. Multiple reporters give their own updates and takes on the giant space turtle hurtling towards Earth, ensuring to give generous and flattering angles of Tokka’s angry trajectory. It helps block out the back and forth.
(Y/n)’s unsure if the others have seen it by this point. They were preoccupied with April’s state and she doubted they’d be sitting in front of their TV when their closest friend was teetering on critical condition… Not idly camping by it, anyway…
Mikey would probably be hooked up to it. Hell, he’d stick the wires directly into his brain if he could.
She’d much rather be there, in the lair and forced to sit through another episode of Bradford’s cringy cartoon, than here, with Earth’s Stupid Force.
They don’t know she’s home, anyway.
The static buzzing of the signal from the soldiers’ comms pick up around them. Their movements begin to grow, footsteps easing from brisk steps to nearly erratic stomps. There’s whispers of intruders, mentions of an alien captured and detained with an accomplice, and a ship suddenly up and working among the many others they’d been taking apart.
With a simple glance, (Y/n) finds herself following Bishop to where they’re holding the, mostly, out of commission kraang ships the EPF managed to get their hands on after the last invasion. The whispers have grown into the frantic buzzing around them as the burring of their stabilizers warm up.
Correction: They will know very soon that she’s home.
Set center stage are three unmistakable figures, surrounded on all sides by soldiers. A smoldering ship is settled behind the group, covered in ash marks from where they’d been shot down.
“Great sky! They’re adapting!” Their blasters point towards the guys in near synchronization. Bishop takes off from the entryway in a sprint, “Wipe them out before they transform-,”
And, like a sunbeam shining through at the end of a rainstorm, Bishop slides between the trigger happy soldiers and the turtles, who’ve drawn their weapons in response to the obvious threatening remarks. Bishop spreads his arms out, wide enough to, hypothetically, shelter the guys from a plausible onslaught of beams from the front. She’s yet to put together whether or not he actually has a built in shield or forcefield in his human disguise, but it’d come more in handy than the hypertechnical metal silicone of his maneuverable body, “Wait! Hold your fire!”
He straightens once some of the EPF soldiers loosen their stances, “These are mutants! Not aliens. Some of the finest mutants this city has protecting it…”
(Y/n) makes her way towards the situation as Bishop explains his newest positioning as Earth’s ambassador, a recent title formulated thanks to their disruptive adventures across the galaxies. It’s crazy how much of a difference a few unruly kids can make, or whatever it is Bishop says when prompted on their mission.
The guys have lowered their guards a little, Leonardo taking front position between his brothers and Bishop. Her heart hammers a tempered beat, but her face breaks into a small grin as she takes place beside her mentor.
Their faces quickly morph between surprise and eased relief, followed by joyed calls of her name, “Hey, guys.”
“Wait,” Leo crosses his arms as his eyes shamelessly take in her frame. (Y/n) struggles to bite down the heat that rushes to her cheeks as she notices, even if her mind tethers the reminder that she isn’t quite wearing the usual attire she’d have on Earth, “Does that mean… you’re coming home?”
She wishes she could definitively affirm that notion, but the chat she had with her mentor before made it extremely clear that her little intergalactic internship’s end is on a need to know basis. And she would need to know after Tokka is handled. So, instead, she’s suited up in regal ambassadorial wear that almost feels too close to something she seen Adora wear in Shera, “Not quite.”
“Your friend and I have been informing your planet on alien matters and helping advance their defenses,” He informs, a soft inflection of pride pushing through the stiffness of his robotic speech.
“So… um,” Donnie fidgets with his bo as he takes a step closer. His nervousness reflects for the other two beside him, “Guess that means you know all about Tokka?”
Bishop’s “Indeed,” felt like an understatement, between the persistent pestering by the general and the nervous rumblings they’d picked up from unassuming gatherings of soldiers. The news stations were still blaring updates and phone lines were ringing with requests for updates, “You visited Tokka’s home of Magdomar. Do you have any idea of why she would be coming here?”
And, as Donnie and Leo make space for Raph to present the tiny, alien baby turtle, memories of the burning planet seem to come flooding back to life. (Y/n) had forgotten all about how they’d taken the tiny tot, a proposed duty to take him in after they’d assumed he’d been orphaned from everything that transpired there. The reveal of Tokka being alive a while back seemed to trump the remaining pieces of information connected to it in her mind.
And the guys try their best to explain as much in an attempt to push back against Bishop’s disapproval of their actions. His shades lower to send her a look of warning, one that she knows will eventually be followed up with the speech of grave disappointment. She’s barely 20 and the praise and approval of an older adult, parental figure still holds high regard in her mind.
“Just give us a stealth ship so we can return him before she gets here,” Leonardo attempts to push with the reminder of the strict deadline.
Bishop doesn’t back down, “No, the EPF and I will handle it,” He takes a step towards Raph, hand stretched forward. His tone holds firm, “Now, give me the Volcathian fire tortoise before I get angry!”
“You. Are. Not. Touching. Him,”
(Y/n) steps between them as the arguing escalates again and words try to bubble up to her chest.
Bishop reiterates his earlier points of juvenile innocence.
“I’m sure there’s a middle ground here-,”
Raph defends his decision, which had seemed like the logical option in the moment.
“We really all want to get the same things done here…”
Whatever peace she’s trying to keep seems to fly over the growing animosity.
“Let me take care of this,” Bishop asserts with finality, brushing past (Y/n) to get closer to Chompy, “Relinquish the baby.”
Chompy doesn’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation, not with a grin as bright as the sun plastered across his silky little face. He leans into Donnie’s hold as he’s shoved into his chest, only reaching for his adoptive father after Raph tears his sais from the resting place on his back. They neatly twirl into place between his fingers.
“Raph?”
He doesn’t hear his brother’s concern above his frustration, “I’m teaching Bishop some manners.”
(Y/n) cranes her neck past her mentor’s form, taking note of how the robot body’s shoulder square in preparation. Something shifts between her eyes, growing exasperation wrapped into the movement of her arms as she attempts another push away from this, “Let’s not fight about this-,”
It’s really starting to feel like she didn’t learn anything from those few months in space, especially not anything to use against someone as strong willed as Bishop or bullheaded as Raph.
What follows is barely a fight at all, as Bishop easily maneuvers around Raph’s charging. Green fingers surge jabs forward, only to be redirected and twisted back on their owner in a humiliating display. The sais’ handles are donked against Raph’s head till he sees stars and backed into his brothers’ holds.
Nearby monitors flash in warning. She’s inching closer, “Bishop…” (Y/n) grumbles in warning and the beeps of surrounding comms reach her ears. What comes out doesn’t quite breach past the soldiers listening in, but their switch in demeanor is warning enough.
Leo looks to Bishop, frustration finally etching to his face as this seems to drag on longer than it needs, “Bishop, we don’t have time for this. We need to get Chompy to Tokka now!”
As his lips part to respond, a soldier steps into Bishop’s free side and relays the message spreading through the ranks. It’s as bad as (Y/n) assumes, enough to make Bishop shades fall a little from his nose’s bridge in the midst of his eyes widening.
“What?! This cannot be!” He turns towards where they’ve been monitoring Tokka’s trajectory, “This greatly complicates matters…” He manages to fix his composure, but the frustration still spills into his tone, “Have they not heeded my warnings…”
The turtles attempt to plea again, “Bishop, listen to us…”
“This is our fault, let us fix it.”
“Um… we do have more experience with a Vorcanthium fire turtle than anyone else on Earth…”
And, finally, “You make a good point, Donatello,” with a sigh, Bishop listens, “It is imperative to appeal to Tokka without confrontation. It may be Earth’s only chance. Go, quickly!”
A few blasters cock, the clicks seeming to ring through the air as a reminder of how much the soldiers fill the room, “Sir, General Griffen sees these creatures as hostile,” It’s a soft warning, “We have orders to subdue.”
“Delay those orders, commander,”
“I’m sorry, sir! We can’t do that,” They take stance, guns aimed center and ready to fire.
With a simple turn, Bishop’s prepped himself to fight back while his student has taken stance beside him, “Get that baby back to its mother,” and the turtles have reset to defend, “We’ll handle the EPF.”
Bishop will always be a beast of his own. (Y/n) has rarely seen him be overwhelmed by battle, not like his more inferior counterparts. She’s unsure if it’s from a millennia of battle exposure or his expansive experience from interdimensional travel, but it definitely leaves the EPF soldiers attempting to fight him off look hilariously pathetic.
(Y/n) barely gets to handle a few, mostly due to how quickly he seems to take the soldiers out. Even as more pile into the room, any beams she shoots from her hands or physical strikes she makes can’t keep up with Bishop’s movements. It’d be embarrassing if he weren’t thousands of years old.
Near the end, (Y/n) finds herself distracted watching the fluidity of his movements as he takes the last of them down. The last guy falls of his own accord, “Get the door!”
They run past one another, Bishop gaining control of the main panel while she sets up lookout for any approaching soldiers. He commands again for the soldiers to stand down, let the turtles handle it, stop making matters worse, but they simply refuse.
Most other planets really didn’t press so much to go against Bishop’s orders. Their arrogance is embarrassing. (Y/n) completely understands why Earth humans have such a bad rap across the universe…
He meets her eyes once the line’s cut and, genuinely, she tries to repress the grin that spreads across her cheeks. She’s been begging Bishop to finally put Griffen in his place.
~~~~
Watching Griffen hit the ground feels like the end of a horror movie. A small weight’s lifted from (Y/n)’s chest and the air feels renewed, even with the hint of a familiar, burned ham smell in the air. His threats of the EPF never working with the Utrom again are practically empty, especially when there’s a direct channel between them and the actual defenders of Earth established.
A soft hint of worry crosses the minds of the remaining set at TCRI when the others return with Chompy still in their possession, but a quick confirmation of Tokka’s liftoff eases any remaining doubt.
It feels bittersweet, watching the guys cheer and celebrate the outcome of the situation as (Y/n) stands close to Bishop. He’s communicating updates to the other Utrom, alerting them of the mission’s success and Tokka’s return back to her position on Magdomar. It’s unfair, her mind supplies, to come here to help save the planet, again, just to leave all over again, but it was her choice to agree to this whole situation in the first place.
Her eyes immediately seem to draw towards the very person she was running from, his soft smile meeting the fondness stored in cerulean eyes as he chats up his brothers and Casey. Those same blue pools drift towards her, holding her stare even as they drag over her form and drinking in as much of her as they can before they inevitably part again. A shiver racks her spine as her heart pitters into puttied sweltering.
There’s so much she wants to say, between how much she’s missed hearing his deep inflections and seeing the light reflect in his eyes to confronting whether or not he genuinely still feels the way he’s claimed during their last few conversations.
He tears his stare away when Mikey tugs him in by his shoulders, rambling on about just how lucky they got.
“(Y/n),” Bishop calls, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. There’s a look on his face that she can’t quite parse, his shades completely covering his eyes and his lips a straight line. It’s the first time, in a while, she can’t determine what he’s feeling, “Today was successful. We did good.”
“We did,” She supplies in response, tampering down the lump in her throat, “We’re loading up soon?”
He lets her go as he turns away, “I’m loading up the ship. You’re unloading,” The corner of his lips slightly upturn just enough to be noticed, “This is your final stop.”
“Really?”
“I’ll alert your sister of our progress. Be proud of all our work together-,”
The hug she launches at him is probably undeserved to an unassuming viewer, especially if they hadn’t beared witness to the uphill battle of the last couple of months aboard Bishop’s ship. There’s new skills she’s pulled together through his instruction and certain actions she’s learned to press through just a tad bit quicker. It’s nothing, merely a small speck, compared to his millenniums of experiences, but it’s something she’ll reminisce on for years to come.
Now, however, she’s ready to launch back at the life trekking on without her at home. The life that is, unknowingly, starting to trek back to the lair without her…
“So…” The others turn to (Y/n) when she suddenly speaks up behind them, her grin hanging at a lopsided angle as she catches the confusion in their eyes, “You guys going to help me unpack?”
~~~~
Walking back to the lair doesn’t feel nearly as exhausting as it should. (Y/n)’s sure it’s from her ruined sleep schedule. Her brain never got the chance to properly readjust her body’s circadian rhythm the first time she’d come home and it’ll probably take months for everything to realign. She can barely recall if it were day or night when she’d arrived with Bishop, let alone what hour it currently was.
Different topics shift through the air as the group traverses back, but there’s something else twinged between it. Even in the lair, there’s a lively vibe riled from the successful quelling of Tokka and Raph getting to keep custody of his adopted, space turtle son.
Yet, (Y/n)’s unable to fully focus on the jokes and quips the boys toss around.
No one says anything when she tucks into the lab for a moment.
Her heart stops at the sight of her closest friend laid out on the infirmary table, April’s body nearly as rigid as a statue. The redhead’s breathing, but her chest barely rises and lowers under the light blanket encasing her.
They don’t comment on the shuddered breath or the tension in her shoulders when she comes out. They’re kind enough to ignore the faraway stare and let her ease herself back into their conversations at her own pace.
But she’s not fully there, with them. She’s farther away than she’s ever been.
Her brain buzzes with static. Fuzz sticks to the outer bit of her vision. She can’t focus. She can’t think…
There’s a blur. Words fade in and out around her.
She can’t tell if this is her body adjusting or her mind catching up with the problems around them.
She wasn’t here when April needed her. She wasn’t here when the guys needed her.
But they’d all been there when she’d needed them, patient and waiting for all the darkest thoughts to finally shy away. Whether that meant sleeping on her couch when the nights got long or spontaneously hosting her when her apartment felt too big. And she’d been off doing God knows what while they’d all been dealing with their own shit-
“Hey,” Cuts through the noise, soft like a buttered knife. His hand takes hers, laces their fingers like he used to, “It’s getting late.”
She feels her mouth move. She doesn’t hear what comes out.
“Your bags are still packed,” His fingers squeeze and she starts to wonder if the stars can see them from here too, “I’ll walk you home.”
He tugs her along as he stands to his feet, holding her steady, “Leo.”
She can think of a million reasons why she doesn’t want to leave the lair: April’s condition, the low howling of that apartment, the warm atmosphere that still manages to sit in the air despite all the other issues surrounding them. She didn’t want to move from right there, cheek pressed into his shoulder and pulse beating against her wrist.
“I’ll walk you back when you’re done.” He smiles, small and reassuring, as he leads her towards the turnstiles. It’s almost enough for her to forget the space sized elephant standing between them.
Her lips part, tongue settling on the indention between her teeth as she tries to form some retort. A shuddered breath comes out instead, teetering on a pained whimper. He gives her fingers a squeeze.
This is silly. Why is she so scared to just go home-
“I don’t think I can go home tonight,” The words muffle against the skin of her arm. She’s unsure if Leo can hear her from his position next to her.
It’s not the first time they’d been sitting on her roof, but she swears they’ve spent more time sitting here than between the apartment’s dense walls. Leo keeps her company between patrols, eventually getting her back through the window and safely tucked into the suffocating abyss of the empty condo-
The silence surrounding their trek back to the surface feels, surprisingly, very comforting. Or, (Y/n) just happens to block out the dreaded awkwardness of the space between them.
Maybe, she decides as she watches Leo push the manhole cover aside, he’s taken pity. Maybe, she ponders as he wordlessly crouches down and motions for her to hop on his back, he’s carefully deciding how to maneuver in proceeding a conversation with her.
Where would they even begin, as the walls blur between scaled hops. What could they even say, with each soundless tap.
She’s thinking too much again.
She should just be honest. The hope that bubbled up in her chest when he finally called, the warmth in her cheeks when she’d finally seen him again after finally seeing him again, the dormant desire that sprouted just from catching him so openly checking her out…
How would she even go about putting all that into a digestible statement-
“Hey,” He pipes up from under her, easing low enough she can easily hop down, “We’re here,” He doesn’t rise from his crouched position until he hears the taps of her feet hitting the ground, doesn’t pull away until she’s standing steady, “We can be in and out, like earlier. Just unpack whatever you need and we’ll leave when you’re ready…”
They’re settled on the condo’s patio. It’s cleaner than she remembers and the small plants decorating the corners have managed to stay healthy shades of green despite the crisp fall in the air. He’s got the spare key held out to her like it’s a small peace offering, the felt charm heart looking a little worn for its age. It feels more like a reminder, that he’s on her terms, and her fingers shake as they hover over them.
His hand, thankfully, closes over them before she can finally grab them. His eyebrow ridges raise at her hesitance, “Do you want me to open it?”
She chances another glance around, “Have you been here lately?”
There’s no way he’d admit it if he had been, “Yeah,” Oh, “I’ve been keeping things… together…” He grows a little bashful and a darker tone reaches his cheeks, “And I’d stop by when I needed…” He hesitates, searching his mind for the right words.
He settles on, “some things.”
Smooth, Romeo. Real smooth.
“Oh…” Its low, softly delivered as she stares passed him to the mock ceramic tiles lining the inner parts of the patio.
“Oh?”
Yeah, oh. He’s tampering the chances of her talking about her feelings-
“I missed you, actually,” He confesses as he finally unlocks the door, letting it creak as it presses past its hinges, “I’d come here and… think about you,” He pushes it open a little more, turning her way expectantly as he waits for her to step through.
She doesn’t step through. She can’t, “You did?”
He nods, the corners of his lips curving upwards as he catches the deer-in-headlights look on her face, “Aren’t you coming in?”
She thinks about the last couple of months, of the times she longingly stared at his silly contact name and when she’d try to be slick about learning what he was up to from his brothers. She’d accepted that, maybe, he’d just let it go, just let them go, after she’d finally pushed too hard.
“I just…,” It almost feels wrong of her to question him when she set the initial boundary, but, “You… You didn’t-,”
“Contact you? Yeah… I’m sorry about that,” His words are crisp, clearer than anything else he’s said to her all night. She whirls around to find him staring directly at her. He’s still taller than her, he has been for a while now, but it feels like she’s looking down on him all over again, “I really wanted to, but… I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me after… y’know-,”
“I was really happy when you finally called me!” She blurts out. Her own voice scares her a little. She knew there’d be a mess of emotions when she got home, but the inflections of her tone still managed to catch her by surprise, “I… actually wanted you to really badly! I know that sounds really selfish after… yeah, but…”
The words die on her tongue as Leo steps closer to her, his hand slowly coming up and cupping the nape of her neck. His thumb rests just above her ear, the pad tickling at the edge of her cheek bone. If he hadn’t noticed her forming blush before, he could definitely feel the heat deep in the pockets of her face.
For a moment, they’re stuck like that. (Y/n) presses further into his hold, content with finally being in such proximity again. Leonardo fights the urge to pull her in and kiss her until she’s silly. But-
“I still feel the same. I still want you- Want us to be together,” His words break through the silence like it’s glass. New York takes a deep breath, “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the Shredder or back home for you, but I do know that my feelings for you are still there.”
“Leo-,”
“(Y/n), I love you.” It’s definitive, resolute, “I know you’re still skeptical and you have every right to be, but I mean it! I’ve always meant it… Even when I said or did things that made you think otherwise,” He backs away enough his blue pools can keep hold of her own orbs, his hands gripping her wrists just enough to give a reassuring squeeze, “I know it’s not the greatest time… but I needed to tell you.”
A few years ago, Leonardo expressing such an admission would’ve left her stuck. He was the sun and she would’ve been on fire, burned from basking so deeply in the warmth of something so meaningful. He’s still the sun and she’s still burning under the weight of the confession, except now it’s an enveloping embrace of reassurance. It’s not the world, not when the universe is so vast and they’ve grown so much from silly teenagers tucked away in the woods.
But… gravity may be a closer comparison.
“I love you too, Leonardo,” There’s a sob wrapped around the profession and, finally, there’s no hint of despair, “I’m sorry. I love you too. I’m sorry-,”
“Why’re you apologizing?” His eyes widen with worry, fingers releasing her wrists as they quickly move to wipe her tears, “Why’re you crying?!”
God, she’s a crybaby, “I’m really happy…”
~~~~~
(Y/n) barely remembers falling asleep that night, between hushed murmurs and whispered musings. Her head’s pressed into the familiar, marble-y texture of a plastron. Despite the hard exterior, she can still make out the rumblings of his heartbeat pittering to a rhythm completely different from his shallow breathing. She turns in his hold, sitting up just enough she can see his sleeping face. It’s bare, nearly like the rest of him, a rarity she’s tried becoming more and more acquainted with as the years have marched on.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was dead.
There’s been enough instances of her waking up beside him and freaking out before feeling for a pulse.
It’s not a miracle she’s awake before him, not when his sleep patterns lead him to closing his eyes just as the stars tuck away and the sun rears its golden head above the city skyline.
His mask sits on the nightstand, the holster for his swords thrown across it, almost as if someone were in a hurry (considering circumstances, she was probably the one in a hurry). His katanas, bless his heart, sit neatly in the silly wall mount she’d bought just for occasions like this. Leo’s never outwardly mentioned his opinion on it to her, but she’s well aware how ridiculous he thought it was at first.
He definitely appreciates it now, however, when he’d rather not leave them strewn about across her floor.
And, as she traces soft shapes into his hard plastron and admires the irony of how deeply he sleeps for a ninja trained nearly all of his mutated life, (Y/n) finds herself ready to admit she could be so, so content if her mornings had a tendency to look and feel similar to this.
Imagine: Leo finds out you're actually a well-trained MMA fighter
While training with Leo, April enters the room and watches the two of you with a look of confusion. "What are you two doing?" she asks.
"I'm training Y/N so they can defend themselves when we are not around," Leo explains. April glances at you with a raised eyebrow, prompting you to give her a subtle shake of your head.
"Leo, perhaps we should take a break and get some water?" you suggest, looking up at the blue-masked turtle. "I will go grab some for you," he replies before walking away, giving you the perfect opportunity to whisper to April.
“Aren't you a literal MMA fighter?" she immediately asks. "Not a professional one," you reply matter-of-factly. "I can’t believe you're sucking for his benefit” she says as she playfully smacks your arm. “I’d gladly do a lot of sucking for his benefit,” you respond. Little did you know Leo heard everything.
A/N: This was inspired by the scene in Teen Wolf when Allison, Scott, Lydia, and Jackson went on their bowling double date.
