#michelangelo x reader

[puhowkamurunya]

me checking my favorite x reader tags and wondering why there isn't any new fics

(probably cuz people actually touch grass and not chronically online like me)

[heartonmyshell]

When He Smells His Brother on You (Rise ver.)

💚 ROTTMNT Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚

A/N: Scent marking headcanon scenarios, anyone? 👀 Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving? 😂

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.”

[ray-jaykub]

Pet names the guys would use

Prefacing this with the fact that I believe all four of them are consistent users of 'baby'. Some pull it more (Leo) than others (Donatello), but that's a go-to, especially if they want something from you.

Leonardo

- Dear, baby, honey, love, if it ain't broke don't fix it, in his opinion. He's a simple guy (as simple as a ninja turtle can be...) and these come naturally to him.

- If he's particularly lovey dovey? Princess/prince, it's something cute and corny that he can pop out. He's very boyish about it

- As far as what you'd call him, you can whip around and use the same line up on him, you call and he'll answer.

- A guilty pleasure of his though is something authoritative. Sir, Sensei, Mister

- The type, that if you guys became parents, he would call you what the kids call you. I don't make the rules. (I do, but I'm not changing them) it's mostly endearing and casual, like saying your name

Raphael

- SALACIOUS once it's been long enough and he's comfortable and you're comfortable, he does lay it on

- Sweetheart, Sugar, baby, baby doll, baby mama (don't ask, he won't have a reason), and a multitude of others that are the equivalent to a sleepy wet kiss to the ear

- Very much like a cheeky old man about it, if it makes you swat at him the better.

- LOOOVES if you tease and call him big man or hot rod. Absolutely melts at being called handsome, something about it strokes that praise loving gremlin in his brain and you can get him to do whatever you need

Donatello

- Like an old man but the sweet modest kind

- Dovey/Dove, Honey, Dear, Darling, Love, etc. He only ever really pulls baby when he's wanting you or begging for some leniency. And then when he's feeling extra poetic he'll pull a different language out

- Call him smarty pants or smart ass in that sassy kind of way and he's getting hard. But he's very weak to just his name and how you say it. A sweet and simple "Donnie", or looking him in the eyes and saying his full name "Donatello" in a serious way and he's all yours

- But also he's in love with even the way you sneeze, so, it isn't hard to get what you want from him

Michelangelo

- Many people have this headcanon, but he is seriously coming up with the most ridiculous shit to get you laughing. Snookey-wookey pookie bear, sugar kiss, Honey butt, the list goes on

- In another life he was a hey mama's lesbian

- It's purely for the fact they make you laugh and make other people look at him crazy. But when it's just you two? It's weirdly your name or sun shine or baby, nothing else, he's very limited but it makes it all the more personal

- The best names to call him, are always baby/baby boy, good boy, handsome..., there's a trend here. But it makes him absolutely melt

[daydreamingoveracupofcoffee]

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.

[rhysspiecez]

could you maybe write some HC's where the bay! tmnt are secretly obsessed with you?! Thank you!!

'They're secretly obsessed with you!'

(Bay!Tmnt x reader) Headcanons (SFW)

"Look at you, You're gorgeous. Why wouldn't anyone be obsessed with you? "

--

A/N: OMG I love this oneeee! I hope You like it, I tried my best! But, even if you dont.. You're still gonna read it like a goooooood boy ahahhahaha

Raphael˖᯽ ݁˖

Raph is way more aware of you than he is of anyone else

pretends you’re just “there” but tracks everything you do without realizing it

gets irritated when his attention keeps drifting back to you

tries to act normal… overthinks everything instead

replays conversations with you later, especially if he thinks he sounded stupid

will randomly remember something you said and get stuck on it

doesn’t understand why you affect his mood so much, just knows you do

He talks rougher than usual to you at first because he doesn’t know how to be normal

then randomly gets quieter when it’s just the two of you

Stands close without thinking, like it’s instinct

Watches your reactions more than he listens to what’s being said

if you’re focused on him, he gets slightly thrown off but hides it

teases you, but it’s softer—less bite, more… testing the waters

gets awkward in small, rare ways that no one else sees

always ends up near you, even if he didn’t plan to

glances at you mid-conversation just to see your reaction

notices changes in your mood before anyone else

remembers small details about you and brings them up casually later

adjusts what he’s doing if he thinks it’ll make things easier for you

pays attention to what you like/dislike without being told directly

if you’re not around, he feels it immediately

likes when it’s just you and him, no one else around

feels calmer when you’re near, even if he won’t say it

listens to you more than anyone else

respects your opinions way more than he lets on

if you’re upset, it affects him more than he expects

doesn’t know how to say “I like you,” so he just… shows up

you get a version of him that’s quieter, more real, less guarded

Michelangelo˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

Mikey realizes he likes you fast and then just… never recovers

talks about you way more than he thinks he does

Everything reminds him of you somehow

His mood is very dependent on how you’re acting toward him that day

Tries to play it cool… fails immediately

overthinks your reactions but masks it with humor

genuinely doesn’t know how to tone it down

way more energetic when you’re around, like he’s trying to keep your attention

makes jokes constantly just to hear you laugh

gets distracted mid-sentence if you’re looking at him

leans into you, touches your arm, stands close without thinking

gives you his full attention like nothing else matters

will interrupt himself just to respond to you

gets a little shy sometimes when you focus on him too much (rare but REAL)

you’re the first person he looks for when something happens

if something funny happens, he turns to you immediately

if something bad happens, he still looks for you first

texting/talking to you is part of his daily routine at this point

if he hasn’t talked to you all day, it feels wrong

depends on your reactions more than he realizes

you’re basically his favorite person, NO competition!!

Donatello ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Donnie tells himself it’s “just interest in behavior patterns” and absolutely refuses to call it a crush!

somehow knows your schedule better than you do

starts adjusting his own routine around yours without realizing it

gets distracted mid-work if you’re in the same room

replays conversations with you to analyze “tone” and “intent” (it’s just him overthinking everything)

remembers extremely specific details about you and insists it’s “for reference”

gets visibly thrown off when you act differently than usual

talks more when you’re listening, even if he doesn’t notice it himself

explains things to you in a softer, slower way than he does with others

makes small adjustments to help you without announcing it

glances at you constantly when he thinks you won’t notice

gets awkwardly quiet when you focus on him too directly

accidentally prioritizes you over his work… then gets annoyed at himself for it

stands slightly closer to you than necessary during conversations

your opinion starts influencing his decisions more than he wants to admit

if he doesn’t talk to you for a while, his focus gets worse

he checks in on you “casually” way more often than needed

feels off when you’re not around, but can’t explain why

you’ve become part of his mental checklist for the day

if you’re upset, it completely derails his productivity

he doesn’t like how much your presence affects his concentration… but doesn’t fix it

fixes things for you before you even ask

remembers your preferences better than anyone else

builds or adjusts things specifically with you in mind

pays attention to your mood shifts instantly

brings up things you mentioned in passing weeks ago

offers solutions to your problems before you finish explaining them

quietly gets proud when you rely on him for something

Leonardo✮⋆˙

(Best for last ofc)

Leo convinces himself he’s just “being responsible” when he keeps checking on you.

notices your presence immediately in any room without meaning to

becomes more disciplined around you because he’s trying to “set an example”… it backfires, he just gets tense

replays conversations with you later, analyzing what he said and if it was “appropriate”

keeps a careful distance at first, then slowly forgets that distance exists

gets slightly thrown off when you treat him casually instead of formally

speaks a little more softly when it’s just you

stands just slightly closer than he does with others (and doesn’t notice it)

watches your reactions while talking, adjusting his tone without realizing

listens very carefully to everything you say, even small comments

tries to appear calm but reacts faster to you than anyone else

gets a little more protective in his posture when you’re nearby

pauses a second too long sometimes before responding to you

your opinion quietly becomes one of the most important to him

if you’re not around, he notices the gap in his day more than he expects

he checks in on you under the excuse of “making sure everything is fine”

feels more grounded when you’re present, even if he can’t explain why

your safety and wellbeing become a constant background concern for him

he adjusts his behavior depending on how you’re feeling that day

doesn’t like how quickly his focus drifts toward you

always remembers what you tell him and brings it up later correctly

offers help before you even ask for it

positions himself where he can easily see you without making it obvious

becomes noticeably more attentive when you’re speaking

softens his expressions slightly when talking to you

trusts your judgment more than he lets on

prioritizes your comfort in small, quiet ways

"I love being a turtleeee"

[sparklingsencha]

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.

Agape. Eros. Philia. Pragma. Mania. Ludus. Storge. Philautia.

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.

[muna-under-cover]

TMNT 2013 reaction to Reader wearing something actually stylish. Like reader was always seen wearing baggy clothing and looking like a bum (Raph calls them a bum), then one day they see Reader hanging out with friends (other friends from April and Casey) wearing clothes they never seen them wear..

The style I’m leaning to is like 2000’s girly vibes. So… their reactions to seeing them like that!!

Upgraded Aesthetic

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 𝖠 TMNT 𝟤𝟢𝟣𝟤 𝖥𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

Pairing: TMNT 2012 x Reader

Pronouns: They/Them

POV: Third Person

Genre: Comedy / Fluff / Slice of Life

Summary: Usually seen in baggy hoodies and looking like a "total bum," the reader decides to debut a full 2000s girly aesthetic while hanging out with April and Casey. The turtles, currently on patrol, are absolutely not prepared for the whiplash.

Leonardo

Leonardo prided himself on his "Tactical Observation Skills." He could spot a Foot Clan initiate from three rooftops away and identify the exact model of a Kraang blaster by its hum. Usually, his observations of you were simple: Subject is wearing a sweatshirt two sizes too big. Subject has a mysterious stain on their left sneaker. Subject looks like they just rolled out of a laundry basket.

"Looking like a total bum again, huh?" Raph’s voice usually echoed through the lair whenever you arrived, his smirk wide as he poked fun at your oversized beanies and shapeless pants. Leo would usually just offer a polite, slightly pitying smile, reminding Raph to be nice.

Tonight, however, the "tactical observation" hit a massive glitch.

Perched on a SoHo ledge, Leo peered down at the sidewalk where April and Casey were meeting up with a group of friends. "I see April and Jones," Leo whispered, adjusting his grip. "But... who is that with them? Some new transfer student?"

Donnie leaned over, his goggles clicking into place. "Uh, Leo... that’s not a transfer student. That’s ____."

Leo’s brain stalled. The person down there looked like they had stepped straight out of a 2005 music video. You were wearing a tiny, fitted baby tee with a glittery graphic, paired with low-rise denim flares cinched by a chunky, butterfly-buckle belt. Your hair was adorned with a sea of colorful butterfly clips that caught the streetlights with every laugh.

"No way," Leo breathed, his blue mask doing nothing to hide the sudden, burning heat climbing up his cheeks. He watched as you adjusted a tiny, rhinestone-encrusted purse on your shoulder—a far cry from the frayed backpack you usually carried. You looked vibrant, stylish, and... confident.

For the first time, Leo didn't see the person who hung out in the sewers playing video games. He saw a person who had a whole, stylish life on the surface—a life that looked incredibly bright.

"We need to move," Leo said, his voice an octave higher than usual as he scrambled to stand up.

"Move? We're supposed to be watching for the Kraang shipment!" Raph protested.

"The... the vantage point is compromised!" Leo lied desperately, already leaping toward the next building. He couldn't stay there. If you looked up and saw him looking like a giant green turtle while you looked like a pop star, he was pretty sure he would spontaneously combust.

---

Raphael

Raphael was the one who had coined the term "Bum." It was his favorite nickname for you, right up there with "Smelly" and "Kid." He was used to you being the low-maintenance, hoodie-wearing human who didn't care about looking cool. To Raph, you were comfortable—like an old pair of boxing gloves.

But as he stared down at the SoHo plaza, his jaw didn't just drop; it practically hit the fire escape.

"Donnie, your goggles are broken," Raph growled, his golden-green eyes darting frantically between the stylish figure in the butterfly clips and the memory of the person he’d teased for wearing mismatched socks yesterday. "That ain't them. That’s a Kraang droid in a wig. Has to be."

"Raph, the facial recognition is 99% certain," Donnie whispered back.

Raph’s grip tightened on the brick ledge until it crumbled. He watched as you laughed at something Casey said, your "2000s girly" aesthetic making you stand out like a neon sign against the New York pavement. The "Angel" rhinestone tee caught the light, and the way you carried yourself—head high, totally owning the look—made Raph feel a strange, prickly sensation in his chest that felt suspiciously like nerves.

"Who are they tryin' to impress?" Raph muttered, his arms crossing over his plastron defensively. He felt a sudden, irrational urge to jump down there and throw his own oversized hoodie over you just to make the world make sense again.

He had spent months calling you a bum. He’d made it his mission to mock your "laundry day" fashion choices. And now? You looked... great. You looked like you belonged in a magazine. And most importantly, you looked like you didn't need a hot-headed turtle in a red mask to tell you what was cool.

"Still a bum," he grumbled under his breath, though the insult tasted like a lie. He turned away, his face a bright, flustered red. "Whatever. Let's just go before Jones sees us gawking."

---

Donatello

Donatello’s goggles were currently displaying a flurry of data points that his brain was struggling to process. He had spent months observing you in the lair, usually cataloging your comfort-first wardrobe as a "functional necessity for subterranean environments". In his mind, you were the person who wore oversized shirts because they were soft and sweatpants because they were practical.

As he adjusted the zoom on his visor, the sheer amount of shimmer coming from your outfit was causing a literal lens flare in his HUD.

"The light refraction index on those rhinestones is... remarkably high," Donnie whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He watched as you pulled out a translucent pink flip phone that looked like a piece of candy. "Is that a retro-tech aesthetic? And those butterfly clips... the symmetry is actually quite aesthetic."

His heart rate monitor—usually a steady rhythm during surveillance—started to beep a bit faster in his ear. To Donnie, your "bum" look was something he understood. It was safe. It was predictable. This new 2000s-inspired look, however, was a variable he hadn't accounted for. You looked sleek, coordinated, and undeniably stylish.

"I... I should probably take notes on the social impact of this transformation," Donnie mumbled, though his hands were shaking too much to actually type on his wrist-gauntlet. He felt a wave of bashfulness wash over him. You looked so sophisticated that he suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he was a giant turtle with a gap in his teeth. If you were this cool on the surface, did you only hang out in the sewers because you felt sorry for them?

"Donnie! Stop staring and let's go!" Leo hissed, grabbing him by the shell.

"I'm not staring, I'm analyzing!" Donnie protested, though his lingering gaze on your platform sneakers suggested otherwise.

–––

Michelangelo

While the others were stressed or flustered, Mikey was having the time of his life. He was the first one to lean so far over the ledge that Raph had to grab his belt to keep him from falling into a boba-shop trash can.

"DUDES!" Mikey squealed, his eyes practically turning into hearts. "____ is literally a pop star! Look at the sparkles! Look at the tiny purse! It’s like a cupcake, but as an outfit!"

Unlike his brothers, Mikey didn't feel intimidated or annoyed; he felt inspired. He had always known you were cool, but seeing you embrace the glitter and the "girly" 2000s energy made him want to go back to the lair and bedazzle his nunchucks immediately.

"I told you they were hiding some serious swag under those hoodies!" Mikey cheered, waving his arms. "They look so fetch! Is that what the humans say? I’m pretty sure they look fetch!"

He watched you do a little hair flip, the butterfly clips shimmering in the neon lights. Mikey let out a low whistle, grinning from ear to ear. "Raph, you gotta stop calling them a bum. They just put your whole wardrobe to shame, and you don't even wear clothes!"

"Zip it, Mikey!" Raph growled, though Mikey just laughed.

As the brothers retreated into the shadows of the rooftops, Mikey was already planning a "glam night" at the lair. He didn't care about the angst or the nerves—he just couldn't wait to ask you where you got that butterfly belt, because he was 100% sure it would look great on his shell.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

🍮🥄 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓷 🍮🥄

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To the Anon: Oh, I absolutely had to take this on! There is nothing quite as satisfying as a "from bum to glam" transformation, especially when it involves giving Raph a total system error. I’m a huge sucker for that 2000s girly aesthetic—the butterfly clips, the glitter, the sheer chaos of it all. Seeing the guys realize their "low-maintenance" friend is actually a fashion icon on the surface was comedy gold to write. I hope this captures exactly the vibe you were looking for!⋆˚꩜｡

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❝ 𝓘𝓯 𝓡𝓪𝓹𝓱 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓭𝓪𝔃𝔃𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽, 𝓘’𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻. ❞

𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾! 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 [𝖸/𝖭]. 𝖫𝖾𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖱𝖺𝗉𝗁 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒!

.✦ ݁˖ Word count check!: 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝟤.𝟥𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌! 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼. ⋆˚꩜｡

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

⋮ # ┆ 𝖱𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌: 𝖮𝖯𝖤𝖭 > ❝ 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾! 𝖫𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍! ❞ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

[eminardo]

💜💙🧡❤️

Should I make more of these 👁️👁️