content: cuddling, talks about marriage, Leo is annoying (affectionate)
You don't pay a lot of attention to Splinter's complaints, usually. More often than not, they're either unreasonable, such as when he's threatening to call up the channel streaming his favourite show for putting too many ad breaks in between, or simply depressing to listen to for long, the ramblings of a frustrated former Hollywood star.
Even now, when he groans, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation, claws pricking his skin, you're busy otherwise, focusing instead on the way Leo's fingers draw small circles and heart shapes onto the back of your hand. His skin is pleasantly cool to the touch, though now warmed where you're pressed against him.
Somewhere to the side, Donnie and Raph are bickering, tones haughty versus frustrated; Splinter huffs in exasperation. "I will never marry any of them off."
The words still catch your attention. Your head snaps up, blinking, staring at Splinter, whose attention has already returned to the TV as though his carelessly chosen words haven't just shaken your entire world.
It's easy to imagine yourself in a white dress. To think of flowers and cake, some time to unwind after the stress of the last months.
It's too easy to fantasise about walking down the aisle, literal or not — you'd say 'yes' at Hueso's if he'd ask —, meeting in a finalising kiss.
You have to snap out of it. Already, your face feels oddly hot, and your stomach flutters despite the lack of anything actually happening. It's just a daydream, and you're not eight years old anymore.
You turn to face Leo and find he's already looking at you.
"You were so thinking about it."
Immediately, your face flushes with warmth. "What? No way. I don't even know what you're talking about."
"You so were." His grin stretches. "C'mon, you can admit it. You want that Hamato name."
You sputter, flustered enough to struggle with forming the proper sentence; "You're being stupid. Shut up."
Leo snickers, leaning closer until your faces threaten to touch, the entire side of his body flush with yours. "Am I? 'Cause I know I'd like that a lot." At some point, he's lowered his voice, and it feels horribly more intimate immediately. "Don't tell me you'd actually reject me if I were to propose."
"I mean", you choke out, brows drawn together in a frown, "That's not what I said, but Leo—"
"Yeah?"
"This is all very sudden."
His grin doesn't fade nor twitch, but you suddenly sense a hint of vulnerability in his expression, and you can't tell if he's joking anymore. "Is it? I've been looking for rings for weeks now, babe."
Your breath catches in your throat. With how secretive April has been, you actually believe him.
It takes a few seconds to steady your voice again. "I never said I'd say 'no'." Your hand comes up to cup his cheek; Leo leans to nuzzle into your palm, eyes still firmly on yours, and your smile gains a mischievous edge. "Though for anything more than that you'll have to actually try it. I'm not spoiling my engagement reaction."
Absolutely over the moon with this incredible gif by none other than our in-house champion @shardkn1ight
Rated: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings/Tags: Romance, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Summer Romance, First Meetings ×Love at First Sight, Fate, Beating Fate, Donatello Has Sensory Issues (TMNT), Donatello has Autism (TMNT), No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, One Shot, POV Alternating, Love, Falling In Love, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Fluff, Misunderstandings, and Missed Connections
Synopsis: You and Donnie keep coming close to meeting, but somehow, something always gets in the way. How can two people who have never truly met feel so connected? Well, it all comes down to whether two people are truly meant to find each other.
Congratulations again to @freakyselkie for whom I write this one-shot for! Thank you again so much for your prompt and for being part of all the wonderful people who got me to 2k followers on Tumblr! 🎉
Also available on Ao3
It was hot.
Boiling.
The sun beat the concrete and, in retaliation, the pale gray ground parried waves of the thermal radiation. You were the bystander between the brawl and with it your skin baked. You had covered appropriately and prepared for the onslaught. Layers of sunscreen, airy clothing, and that brimmed cap that was bleeding against your forehead should have been a first line of defense, but all of it felt like unnecessary armor in a war waged without weapons.
“Maybe over here!” Your perky friend pointed.
You hated her.
Not really, but in this moment, the way she turned to beam at you felt blinding.
She was irritatingly suited to the element of summer.
Unscathed like the sun’s favorite princess and on a quest for a faberge egg of all things.
It made no sense, but her love of blind boxes had evolved into something more esoteric. Little naked angels or cats wearing all manner of costumes no longer gave her that thrill. She turned gacha into something more ancient and found herself eventually collecting German porcelain statues. From there, she graduated to depression-era glass. Once her home was properly irradiated, she set herself on something pre-20th century and found ornate little eggs. With no ability to get the originals, she found a suitable substitute in a brand harkening back to the era with remakes she could actually afford. It felt natural somehow, watching her go from one capsule type to another, but her chase no longer had an easily calculatable chance.
She manufactured one.
Decreed that buying online wasn’t fun.
You, a too kind simp of a friend, joined her in her quest when she asked you to go to an antique market.
Under the blaring sun.
In the middle of the day.
She was buying ice cream after this, you would make sure of it.
“No…” Her voice came through sullen as she searched every manner of gilded flower statues, but none of that curved into a telltale oval. “I had such a good feeling about this table, too.”
“And those nineteen boxes. Or the smelly jar place. Oh, how about that feeling you had when we went to that creepy estate sale?”
She picked up a wicker hand fan and waved it at you. “I really appreciate your company?”
You held onto your anger until it evaporated like the sweat on your skin. “Yeah.”
“Plus, I need a witness for when I score.”
“Let’s write to the Guinness book of world records. I might win ‘friend who supported the most pulls.’”
“We could get them here, but they need evidence. Do you really want them to take your picture now?”
“Now she’s attacking my looks.”
“I mean…” She wiggled a hand into her too cute clutch and brought out some ornate hanky. “The dewy skin trend already passed.”
“Did it now?” You laid the sarcasm on thick.
She patted your temple dry. “It’s evolved. Instead of glass, I’d say the vibe is more a butter, skin-first approach. You’ve got the butter thing, but it’s more…”
“Grease?”
“You said it, not me.” She smiled as she retracted. “That’s a bit better.”
“Get the camera ready.”
“Or some water?” She clucked. “I think there was a guy with a cooler over by the place with the ducks.”
You thought.
She openly waited with a curious tilt of her head.
“I wanted to work something out between mallard and malady, but I’ve got nothing. Water it is.”
She squinted first then pondered the question herself. “Mallard-y?”
“Mala-rd.”
“Duck-ting. Like AC ducts.”
“Back to skin. Mine’s peeking.”
“Crackling! No! Quackling!”
“Wow.” You admonished.
“Come on, it’s not that bad!” She stomped a little as she headed toward that previous stall.
You meant to follow, but nearly bumped into her. “Hey-!”
“Franklin Mint…” Her voice was a ghost.
“Franklin…?” You parroted as your sluggish brain caught up. “Oh!”
She was in motion toward the particular faberge egg brand she had yapped about amongst others.
You tried to keep your sweaty soul in your body as she bartered for the tchotchke.
She didn’t want to pay full price as she argued that there was a scratch.
You mourned your water.
You had to be patient.
You hoped the cooler guy hadn’t raised his prices. He could, you were just enough of a sucker to give at least five dollars for a bottle.Maybe ten, you thought as you stared out at the wobbly lines warped space off toward a taped off section. Instead of having proper covering, most of the furniture purveyors had crammed their goods into segmented squares that you guessed they rented. A green man rounded one such thing with a strongly thought finger punched into his lower lip.
You blinked in a long squeeze.
The heat was making you delirious.
You opened your eyes.
He was still there.
Through the vapor, he took shape.
Green man, red stripes, blue mask matching a blue beachy fit, and a blue shell.
He scrutinized a dresser.
His mouth moved as he switched his hand to point.
He talked to someone behind a particularly tall armoire.
He was too far away to make out what.
A mutant, your brain finally supplied.
You almost verbalized your ‘oh,’ but realized you would very much be talking to yourself. A turtle mutant, you guessed as he came around and that shell of his with three ornate ovals was presented in a turn. Baked thoughts wondered if your friend would be interested in cracking those open as well. You almost laughed as turtle soup entered your brain, but a second mutant turned a corner.
This man hadn’t quite seen what the other was gesturing to and blindly rotated around the armoire with his gaze lifting from his phone.
Your eyes met.
You felt your lips part a desert amongst the humid oasis of your skin.
His recognition rolled in a wave across his face.
His purple mask was pushed up to act as a bandana tied around his head. The sun glinted off his own sweat and it felt like it was bottled as a delicate drop rain down the v of his throat. It disappeared into some sort of shell component that wrapped around his front. The buttons on his flowy top barely cinched at his waist, leaving that chiseled clavicle of his wide open.
He blinked.
A slowed motion as if you were the one that was a mirage.
All you saw was him.
Everything else fell away.
At least until you felt a hand on your arm tear you away from a glistening reality.
“What?” You felt yourself gawk.
“I got the egg! Let’s get you that water!”
“Me?” You tried to turn around, but your friend pulled.
“C’mon!” She ushered.
You caught up in a few flailing steps.
Once your feet were in order, you looked back.
The mutant you had a mini staring contest with was also being dragged away by his counterpart.
The tails of his bandana bow bobbed and they called for a purveyor of antique furniture in a turn that made the pair vanish from your sight.
“Two waters, please!” Your friend announced and it seemed odd that you had made it what was apparently half-way across the outdoor market when you felt like you were still only seconds away from staring at some purple-themed hunk.
You made a sound that said you agreed and soon had a cold, wet bottle in your hands.
It was a healing elixir and your facilities returned, leaving your mystery man a bit of a fever dream.
It was odd though.
You had never really had a moment in time like that.
You decided it was a distracting concoction of the elements.
Returning to your body you spied a small plastic bag slung through your friend’s arm and she turned to pose when she saw you looking.
“You get the Franklin?”
“Oh!” She dipped down as if nefarious. “This?! You noticed! That’s why we had to jet! I made the guy think there was a crack. I totally swindled him! Couldn’t have him figuring it out.”
You laughed, genuinely.
She was a funny one.
She smiled, not quite understanding your levity.
You meant to give her some form of explanation, but she interjected, “I got my ultra-rare for the day. Wanna get ice cream? My treat.”
You guessed your luck had turned due to your suffering. “Yes!”
She waddled forward, waiting for you to join her. “What were you looking at, by the way? If we need to go back and get sometihng, tell me now.”
You fell in line and tried to recall, but it felt as muggy as the air with the allure of iced cream now overhead. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
-
You were dying.
On your hands and knees, you begged for release from a too brightly colored mat.
The mortal coil had jokes.
Ones shaded in primaries as you heard kids’ laughter behind you.
“Feels good, right!?” Your friend hollered as his shoes landed right by your head.
Your eyes crossed to watch a fat droplet of sweat leave your nose and splat on the blue cushion below you.
“You’ll be alright.” He continued to be nonplussed.
Through a curtain of rage, you turned to him with a seethe.
He took it with a stark blink and snatched up your empty water bottle. “You need more water! Let me get you some!”
He was gone in a pivot turn of sneakers.
You sat back on your haunches and felt all the sweat on your body switch direction due to gravity. You stared listlessly at the blotches of bubblegum stuck to what was colloquially known as a rock wall. A kid that couldn’t have been more than twelve climbed up with ease. You hadn’t even made it three-quarters of the way before you were a sweating mess that had to descend and dry heave on dry land.
Your friend had warned you that rock climbing was a serious workout, but you had ignorantly obliged him when he asked you to join his latest fitness fixation. No amount of preparation could have readied you for this. You exhaled some sanity and glanced to see him in line with a few others at a refill station. Truthfully, if you drank more water, you felt like you were going to puke, but you guessed you needed the hydration considering you had excreted way more than your 20 ounce bottle had replenished you with.
“Okay, Donnie! Listen up!” You heard an authoritative voice, but didn’t look.
Someone sounded nearly as hyped as your friend.
“Rock climbing is no joke and, before you say it, yes, we’re technically bouldering on account’a me not fitting in any standard harnesses and also me not wantin’ you to make me one cause you’ll definitely add some scary belay action, but that doesn't matter! Starting’s the easy part. It’s going all the way that’ll get ya. You’re gonna be working every muscle your body’s got in ways you’d never expect!”
“Raphala, you’re not usually the one with the penchant for theatrics. How quickly you forget we are literally built with enhanced musculature!”
“You don’t get it, Don.” You could almost envision this person shaking their head.
This guy was about to be as foolish as you were and was in for a rude awakening regarding what this sport did to a beginner.
“We were made for a lot of things, but climbing ain’t one of ‘em. I busted my butt more times than I can count when I started.”
“Counting, you say? And what was your personal best? I seem to recall a red helmeted youth getting stuck on the transition between twenty-nine and thirty. Have you improved since?”
“Har-har!” The man probably rolled his eyes. “Joke all you want, you agreed to come and Raph’s holding you to it. Let’s see you climb…”
There was a pause and some sounds of harnesses being prepared.
“… Then we’ll see how you feel.”
“Big brother gets the last word? Well, I smell a challenge and the succulent scent is that of a genius!” One of them clapped their hands to signify their competition had begun.
“Brains or brawn? You’re on!” There was a hearty chuckle.
What a cute pair of brothers, you thought idly as your friend lazily walked back over.
“Your drink!” He sang as he offered you your bottle.
“Thanks.” You forgot your nausea and chugged the life giving liquid.
“You’re doing good.” He plopped down beside you. “Bouldering is legit.”
You eyed him.
“Seriously.” His expression said he was being honest. “It’s tough and you’re doing a good job.”
“Thanks.” Your tone was dry though your throat was now wet.
“Ready to give it another try?”
“Yeah, I can’t let those kids beat me.” You pointed to the young boy who was climbing up the wall like a gecko.
“Ah, youth. I climbed trees like that once.” Your friend folded over his knees. “Now I’m worried what’ll pop outta socket next. It’s why I don’t want to get into the harness. I get it can be more secure, but like what if I need a hip replacement?”
“Yeah, didn’t you-?”
“Love his shoes.” Your friend nodded in the direction you had heard those brothers.
You finally looked over there just as your water bottle touched your lips again.
“I’ve seen that big guy a few times. I keep meaning to ask him where he got them, but we’re always both in the zone. I’m gonna hit him up when he comes down.” Since your friend’s favorite color was red, you knew the similarly colored fellow was the one he was referring too, but you became affixed on purple.
It was him.
A steamy memory rose through parted mental fog.
From the antique market.
The turtle mutant.
The one you locked eyes with.
He had another yet another color-coded cohort.
If this one was his brother as the language suggested, you guessed the other was too.
His head turned in your direction and your heart leapt.
He examined a prior handhold and looked to another.
He was sweating again, but with his mask fully wrapped around his head this time.
Condensation collected along his strong jaw.
His expression was tight as he looked back with the intent of where he would go next.
You scanned him.
Slow and long down flexing biceps that had curious rectangular tattoos.
The curve of what looked like a backpack was over what you guessed was his shell.
Sinfully short shorts that hiked thunderous legs.
Purple flexible climbing shoes highlighted where his heel arched gracefully over fishbowl pebbles.
He reached for his next handhold and his fingers quaked.
You knew that feeling.
He had climbed about as high as you had when you had called it quits.
His brother, a surpassingly hulking form, tipped back from a one hand hold to lord over the other. “How’s it hanging, Don?”
The teasing tone sent an irritated twitch through your chosen mutant’s face. “Just peachy! Pluck it and shove it in iced tea since you’re so-!”
He locked three fingers and hoisted himself toward his brother.
Something about the move jarred his body in an unsteady way.
“Oh no…” Your friend verbally grimaced.
“What?!” You looked to him.
He pointed with a nail and horror in his eyes.
Your gaze flew back and the purple mutant was no longer stuck to the wall.
A bare movement of your pupil found him plummeting.
“Donnie!!” The red one kicked off and soared down in pursuit.
Murmurs ripped through the crowd.
You were up.
In motion.
The purple mutant flopped onto the mats.
He yelped and went still.
Along with an attendant, the bigger brother landed with bent knees nearby and rushed to help.
You were overhead amongst a few others that had offered aid.
“Charlie horse!!” The purple brother wailed with a stiff form. “Don’t touch me! AH!!”
“Told ya to stretch.” The older brother tutted.
“You, absolutely, did not! You challenged me! Goaded! Baited!”
“Like a sheep?” A red wrapped head cocked.
“Bah!!” The purple brother tried to wave him away, but the movement jostled his leg cramp and sent him into curled agony.
His writhing face passed over you.
He contracted into wide-eyed silence and stared. “It’s…!”
He seemed mesmerized.
That didn’t seem possible.
That would mean he remembered you.
How could he?
You had only seen each other for a moment.
A few seconds.
Less than a minute.
It wasn’t like you suffered some silly emotional nonsense like a shot from cupid’s arrow or love at first sight.
You checked over your shoulder to see if there wasn’t someone else nearby he could be looking at.
“Is he…?” Your friend supplied the answer. “… looking at you?? Do you know him?”
A few people murmured, but you didn’t hear it.
The purple mutant’s gaze softened. “It is you…”
“Me…?” You started to wonder.
He swooned.
Or more accurately, began to lose consciousness in a swirling tizzy while his brother called out to him.
“At least…” His voice was fading.
You were crowded away as a second attendant arrived with some kind of first aid kit.
“I saw an angel in passing…”
He went limp and you felt a tug from your friend to give them space.
-
“Wait!!!” He jolted upright with longing fingers that crunched as they came in contact with a solid wall. “Ack!!”
“Donnie, what the heck!?” Leo looked over his shoulder at where his brother had punched his shell. “That the thanks I get for watching over you!?”
“Where is-!?” Donnie turned and nearly fell out of the hospital bed he was plopped onto.
Recognition came in waves.
He was not at the gym.
His skin was sticky with dried sweat.
He was still in his gym clothes.
Raph had coerced him into bouldering, his latest gym-bro fascination.
He had cramped then passed out likely due to a vasovagal shock due to pain, dehydration, and seeing you again.
Ah, such a sweet angel.
You were the vision he had only been able to glimpse once at that outdoor antique mall a few weeks back. The one Leo had dragged him to arguing that he was looking for some particular zen-inspired piece to pull his new room décor together with. Donnie knew a thinly veiled excuse to make room for his brother’s out-of-control collection of long boxes when he heard one.
You looked just as stunning and similarly drenched as the first time he’d seen you.
Not that a singular sighting meant much.
It was too little to go off of.
Any ethereal comparisons to your aesthetic were simply due to a depletion of fluids.
Hallucinatory auras were to blame for the fact that he couldn’t imagine what a vision you’d be when not addled.
Donnie turned to Leo, who had apparently been talking the entire time. “I’ve said nothing. Absolutely nothing of importance since waking. It was a dream. You’re a fool. How are my vitals?”
Leo stared and numbly handed over a chart.
Donnie took it and read off some expected numbers.
Leo folded his arms.
“No intravenous fluids necessary. Huzzah!” Donnie read before checking to see his arms were indeed free of tubes. “I assume-!”
Leo tipped his head in the direction of a mixed drink and its discarded electrolyte powder packet nearby.
“Oh, perfect! My preferred flavorless formula with…” Donnie grabbed the cup. “… tepid, not room temperature water. You have done your diligence for once.”
“I’m a saint. Where is who?” Leo raised a brow ridge.
Donnie took a sip and found Leo had also mixed the beverage until there was nary a gritty particulate. “Typically when someone seeks something, one would more readily assume a what, but that would entail me having a memory of what you speak of, which I do not. I fainted after all.”
“Yeah, that dramatic longing you woke up with was all a dream. You can keep going with the excuses, but I’m still going to ask for the truth. Think you’ll cough it up anytime soon?”
“Not particularly…?” Donnie grimaced around another gulp.
Leo sighed.
Donnie avoided his gaze and dunked it into his drink.
“Alright…” Leo shook his head. “Have it your way.”
Donnie watched him with a lean as his brother headed toward the door.
Raph’s arm appeared as a signal.
Another memory, one of Raph’s gloating surfaced and Donnie shrank as much as he could these days into his shell.
“He’s all yours.” Leo tapped his big brother as he headed into the hall.
“Hey, Donnie…” Raph trilled as he slipped in.
“Mercy for a weak man!?” Donnie quacked.
“Not a chance!” Raph grinned, ready to rub his dismissed warnings right into his brother’s frail yet contemptuous form.
Donnie tried to retreat into his mind, but a spectre of you lingered there.
-
His lip curled as he stared at the oozing dough ball.
What a repugnant texture pizza dough was.
It turned to such a springy and delicious serving platter for tasty toppings.
Yet here, in its raw form, it spread like slime and clung with yeasty feelers to the wood board it was so unceremoniously dumped on.
“Kinda gross…” Mikey murmured beside him.
“Quite…” Donnie was thankful he had a brother that understood.
On a multitude of levels.
Michelangelo was as his name described.
A messenger of sorts.
Not unlike Hermes in his playful nature.
In his latest correspondence, he brought word of a combined activity.
A pizza making science class.
A learning experience that combined their favorite things.
Donnie would have been a fool to say no, though, as of late, his calendar had been far more stuffed than he cared for.
Antiquing with Leo.
Bouldering with Raph.
Next week’s soiree at April’s new abode.
All activities he had offered his presence for, but their repetition were weighing on him.
That and some unnamed creature he had to refer to by ‘angel’ because you were just as elusive as the name suggested.
He couldn’t find you.
No matter how far he tapped any given network, he couldn’t find an obvious record of you.
In some ways, that was good.
You weren’t a known criminal or your record had been scrubbed.
You weren’t a missing person.
You were free to annoying databases, but that’s where the positives ended.
You either, somehow, had no online presence or he had hallucinated you due to induced circumstances.
The latter sounded like an impossibility, but his life was never so simple.
It was silly.
As much as the concept of attraction at first glance.
Such fleeting feelings were hapless.
Nonesense.
Ones that couldn’t be quantified, not like-
“Flour, yeast, water, salt.” The instructor began as the class had already waited an excessive fifteen minutes to start. “These four simple ingredients-!”
What was that to go off of?
Donatello was a man of science.
As basic as the chemistry of this experience was, the basics were just that.
Founded in repetition.
He had seen you twice.
He knew nothing about you.
Pulling conclusions, hypotheses, from such sparse data would be foolish.
Pretty people had given him pause before.
He was known for sweeping common eye candy off their feet.
What were you other than an outlier that robbed him of his breath?
“Yeast is part of the fungus family- Come in!” The instructor interrupted themself. “You’re late, but we’re all adults here. I’m not going to shame you!”
Donnie turned to see who had the gall to be as unnecessarily tardy to a learning experience you had to expressively sign up and pay for.
The first face that ducked in was that of a woman of whom he judged to be flighty based on the messy and canted ponytail on her head.
The next was yours.
Your eyes were downcast, unseeing, as you hurried through a string of apologies toward a free pizza making station at the far end of the room.
He gaped.
“As I was saying…!” The instructor went on. “Carbon dioxide-!”
Yeast ate the sugars in the dough, converting them to carbon dioxide which, when trapped within the dough’s developed gluten structure, allowed for air pockets to be generated giving the crust its rise.
Donnie knew all this.
It was basic chemistry.
You.
You dropped your things and took up a position with your back to him.
He willed you to turn around with everything he had.
You didn’t, but you were here.
That meant you had now had three separate run-ins with one another.
What was that?
Repeatable theory?
To what test?
His patience?
He had long dismissed such trivial concepts as fate.
“Psst…” Mikey was beside him.
“Huh?” Donnie felt dumb.
“We’re supposed’ta knead.” Mikey had his hands in the dough.
That was right; Donnie looked down at his nearly flattened pale blob.
“It’s not so bad. It’s not as sticky when you coat your hands with a little flour.”
“As if it clinging to me makes texture any less reprehensible…” Donnie did so from a bowl that had been left aside. “Its existence perturbs me.”
Mikey chuckled and tried to coach him through the preparations.
He was meant to push the dough with the heel of his dominant hand, return to the center, and push again, away from the body.
It eased the process of compression.
It worked with the dough’s viscoelasticity and structural tension as opposed to fighting it.
Science rattled through his brain.
A fallback.
His comfort item amongst the inane unknowns flocking him.
You hadn’t looked yet.
You didn’t know this was your third meeting as he did.
What did he do?
A singular brain cell rallied his romanticism.
He knew he was charming.
He could give you an event appropriate pizza based pick-up line.
Slice of heaven, perhaps?
You would giggle.
Maybe you liked puns.
It was lowbrow humor, but showed you he had a penchant for more.
He was the funny one.
He staked his reputation on it and proved it to the others on multiple occasions.
He only needed a chance.
One not given as the instructor was incessant.
He droned on about water and elasticity.
Donnie was glad he had his goggles on tonight.
They drowned out unnecessary noise, but that didn’t mean sound wasn’t still occurring.
Donnie already knew that water was a critical catalyst.
The reminders themselves shouldn’t have been annoying.
He enjoyed classes that reviewed foundational scientific principles.
Zig Ziglar’s point had some merit.
In science, Donnie had repetition.
It leant to opportunity, which allowed him the chance at action.
One which was, unfortunately for such antics, not currently possible with how the class was structured.
There was little time to architect his necessary accomplishment.
“Need me to wave Javi down?” Mikey asked.
“Who?” Donnie looked genuinely confused.
“Tonight’s instructor…?” Mikey narrowed his eyes. “You look like you need something, but your dough seems fine... What’s up?”
“Nothing. Javi should bring up fermentation times and regionality.”
“We’re making New York slices, c’mon Donnie. Be serious.”
That was rich coming from the youngest and Donnie exaggerated his expression to say so.
“This is pizza.” Mikey’s face was grave. “I don’t play with ‘za.”
That somehow tracked and Donnie walked back his judgment with a nod.
“High-gluten flour, short rise, even heat.” Mikey recited a mantra.
That grounded Donnie a certain amount. “You’ve been making pizza for years.”
“I’m the one who’s got it down to a science!” Mikey chirped back to his usual levity. “Thanks for coming, D.”
“Of course.” He decided then to take their trip seriously.
You were a point of intrigue, but just that.
If time existed afterward, he would talk to you then.
You two would discuss something banal, though he was still leaning toward a pizza-biased talk track.
He could proclaim his crust to you or something about delivery times.
He would figure it out later.
He was spending time with Mikey now.
He gave his due diligence into the dough’s rest.
The mood lightened as their crusts were eventually rolled and spun.
Next came a sauce application which Mikey ladled on with a little extra flourish.
The instructor applauded him.
Donnie felt it then.
Your eyes.
You saw him.
You were looking.
His heart thudded against his plastron, threatening to break free.
He had to calculate the best time to return your gaze.
What had Mikey said?
Even heat.
A smolder.
Donnie conjured embers and sent them your way.
The flash pan struck and he saw the moment his look landed.
Your lips parted and closed.
Your eyes conveyed what you both knew.
You had met three times and none of which had resulted in a single spoken word.
A crinkle said you thought that was amusing.
Better than the opposite, which Donnie only then realized would have been very bad.
The implication of one man appearing in anyone else’s space on three separate occasions typically spelt untoward intent.
He tried to relay his concerns and you caught it with a smoothing that said you weren’t.
He wanted to elaborate, but pizzas were going into a stone fire oven.
“Me first!” Mikey called and pulled Donnie along.
What a disadvantage it was being paired with this particular brother on such an occasion.
Donnie had a measure of skills, but none of which were related to pizza making.
He could assemble sandwiches worthy of gods, but he had no finesse with a pizza paddle.
Mikey’s pie was on and slid into the oven with applause.
Donnie’s pizza pinched and folded upon the first attempt to scoop it up.
The instructor was kind.
A fellow classmate jeered about the skill not running in the family.
Mikey barked at them in defense of his brother. “Donnie’s made stuff like you couldn’t believe! So what if he can’t use a pizza peel!? He can cut stuff with lasers that uncertified people shouldn’t even have access to!”
For a moment, Donnie was mortified.
Then, Mikey’s nature crept in.
It was a good strategy.
He couldn’t have you aware of all his otherworldly traits so soon.
Now was the best time to temper expectations.
It allowed him ample room to wow you and make him appear mortal as opposed to an elite you might not be able to otherwise approach.
“Bravo, little brother…” Donnie clapped Mikey’s shoulder.
Mikey chuckled. “Let’s see you all do it on your first tries!”
“This isn’t a contest…” The instructor scolded, but did invite the woman who had a spiteful disposition to go next.
They laughed, but, based on Mikey’s reaction, it seemed like a playful jest.
That was good.
The temperament of the space was conducive to conversation now.
Donnie checked on you.
You weren’t looking, but felt his eye.
Your pupils inched towards his.
It was there again.
That warm feeling in the face of the oven.
A dilation of the gaze.
Intrigue.
Interest.
Dopamine, norepinephrine, and adrenaline.
Simple chemistry.
Ones that conjured nonsensical butterflies that beat ironclad wings.
“Uh…” The sloppy woman that accompanied you pointed beside your head. “Is… that a normal carbon dioxide bubble…?!”
Everyone looked.
Inside the oven, a pizza, Mikey’s pizza, was bubbling and expanding at a rate it absolutely should not have.
“Mike-!?” Donnie barely got out.
“That’s not-!” The instructor similarly spoke.
There was a pop.
One that was too quiet in relation to the inflation.
The resounding splat was cacophonous.
In an instant, every single inch of the room was coated in meat sauce.
Havoc wreaked slowly.
A growing horror just like the bubble that blossomed into screams.
Donnie was blinded and slowly used the back of his hand to clear his vision.
Mikey appeared in a guilty line.
“Mikey…!” Donnie threatened.
“It was just… a little of Sloppy Joseph… You know… for taste…!” Mikey eked out.
“YOU!” A meat mummy tackled Mikey.
Donnie was in motion to pull the person attacking his brother off.
Yelling flooded his ears.
People arrived.
The door to the class was yanked open.
Exchanges were had.
Culpability tossed.
The best course of action would be to run away.
Flee and make this yet another establishment they were not allowed back to.
Except, you were there.
Donnie nervously checked.
You had been given a towel and were wiping off the saucy muck.
You didn’t appear burned.
“Donnie! We gotta go!!” Mikey grabbed his arm.
You looked.
Glimpsed him then.
Donnie mouthed the words.
‘I’m sorry.’
You gave him a helpless look.
You were a sight covered in the leavings of his pseudo half-sibling.
His ninja senses alerted him to an incoming hand and Donnie dodged.
Mall security was here.
He ran.
Found Mikey rooftops away.
A police car cycled passed with red and blue lights down below.
“I gotta say…” Mikey remarked as he leaned red-tinted elbows on worn stone.
Donnie stared lifelessly at him.
“You gotta admit my addition was pretty tasty!” He licked the corner of his mouth.
Donnie lifted a still wet finger.
Popped it into his mouth.
Hummed a note that agreed.
For what it was worth, it was delicious.
It also wasn’t enough.
-
There was a thrum of activity throughout the house. It very much read like the titular April O’Neil, who was throwing this particular party. You had a vague awareness of her other two housemates. The party was technically for all of them, but April was the one with connections as far as you understood. Between her rally to stardom after becoming the youngest Pulitzer Prize winner in the world to her pro-mutant activism, everyone in the city knew her name to some extent and a portion of those people were in good enough standing with her to get an invite.
You were among those.
Not necessarily close to April, but of some kind of note.
Taking a few college classes together had helped you build a connection which led to an exchange of contact information. That listing then survived a few phone upgrades. Your friendship currently was one that you considered more in the realm of a friend of a friend. From what you understood, the companions you kept close overlapped with her human sphere. April was a funny being that you didn’t really see, but were pleased when she came up in conversation. It was nice to hear how she was doing and give your own anecdotes about her study crimes of the past. She had been on the brain especially as of late with her housewarming invite and her hand in your other recent escapades.
Your gacha friend was sisters with a girl April worked with and, from what you were told, April had recommended the antique market to her because her brother was going to look for some old-timey goodies himself. There was then the gym, which you understood April herself had recommended to your more athletic friend, after breaking in those climbing walls herself. Finally, among the litany of New York science museums, the Brooklyn Brainery was specifically on your radar because your frazzled friend had heard from her bestie, who you were sort of aware had been April’s roommate in college, that they were doing lessons in pizza, something she had been trying and failing to make at home.
You wanted to thank the woman of the hour.
And maybe meet that hot mutant that was surely also related to April in some way.
You felt terrible.
The thought had been eating you up a little, but it was true.
You had been thinking of that turtle for awhile now.
At first, from that singular glance, you had written him off as a flagship only noteworthy to your heat soaked mind. You had only lingered on one another because of the sun scrambling your brains and nothing more. You usually scoffed at fictional romance tropes, but then you had seen the man at the gym. While you still argued that the second meeting was nothing more than an odd coincidence, you at least admitted that you found him attractive. Getting another chance to ogle him had been more noteworthy, but it was cut short by his theatrics and subsequent fainting. You thought maybe that should have put you off, but he had gone and called you an angel before collapsing. No one had ever compared you to something so divine and you couldn’t help but find it a little endearing. Enough so that a niggling memory of him lasted until you found him over rising dough.
All evidence said it should have meant nothing, but he seemed to also think there was something to your kismet run-ins.
He had said as much with his eyes.
You had read an apology off his lips.
That meant something.
You didn’t believe in fate, but you did decide, right then, that if you were to meet at tonight’s party, there would be a reason for it.
You didn’t believe in luck, but you only picked up pennies when they were face side up.
You didn’t believe in superstition, but you always threw a little salt over your shoulder if you knocked it over.
You didn’t believe in old wive’s tales, but if you said something cursed you always looked for wood to knock on.
It didn’t have to be romantic.
That was the fairytale lie that was always sold.
Maybe you and this mutant were meant to be friends.
April could have been setting you up.
She was an odd common thread that ran through the tapestry of your not-quite meetings. It seemed a little too altruistic of the woman, but who was to say she wasn’t some mutant match maker. You were pretty sure two of your currently engaged mutual friends had met because of April.
That was something.
It got you through a throng of people and deeper into the absolutely packed two story abode. The bachelorette house, as you heard it called, was a cute three-way split amongst long time friends. Little pictures strung up said as much and you identified a rotating trio of girls growing up. They looked close as you shimmied between some dude and a golden retriever mutant. All sorts of shapes and sizes packed the space and you felt a bit like you popped out of a wrapper as you entered the kitchen. A goldfish mutant in a beautiful shift wrap dress was manning a punch bowl. She gurgled as she offered you a cup and you couldn’t help but admire her physique. She winked at you as you parted with a giggle and sparring thoughts about how soulmates weren’t a thing and the purple mutant fading from your mind was a signifier that there were, very literally, endless fish in the sea.
You entered a different adjoining room to the kitchen than the one you came in from and the music switched over.
In the churn of momentary quiet.
One gutted by a thousand voices.
He stood in what had to be the center of the room.
For a moment, you couldn’t believe you had a clear view.
It was as if time stopped and the sea of bodies parted.
He looked unabashedly dorky.
He had a plastic margarita glass clasped too close to his person. His button up was yet again undone by far too many buttons, but, this time, clung to him in a sleeker fit. It hugged him as did his jeans, which were threaded by a chain as if that was the current fashion standard.
His eyes found you as if they had to.
You shifted to one side as his expression went infinitely molten.
As if he had been waiting.
For you.
He made his way over through the clear path and rolled out a carpet of his voice.
A song you liked came on.
“I feel as though we've almost had this conversation three other times; Hello, I’m Donatello.”
You felt yourself go right to mush as you told him your name.
His smile wrinkled his cheeks and he repeated it as if it was music to his ears.
You felt yourself talking.
Too much, but it didn’t feel like enough.
His face never said anything but the latter.
He was completely attentive.
Enraptured in your conversation, both about you and himself.
He had quite the ego.
He was also his own worst enemy.
Every time he bragged about something he clearly took great pride in, he also left him looking like an utter nerd.
You liked him.
His haughtiness read a little juvenile, but there was hope for him yet. Instead of being actual pompous, you found his confidence was actually fragile. If you showed the slightest disinterest, he tried to switch tracks in an attempt to garner positive favor.
He was trying very hard to impress you.
You rewarded it how you could.
With cute tips of your head and a touch to his forearm which caused him to soar.
He asked you to dance.
You obliged and he immediately struck a pose that nearly took out three people. He was a bit of a monster on the dance floor and he did not have the space he required to ‘bust a move.’ You reigned his arms in and, in keeping him close, he loosened up. Leading his hand to your help caused him to look a little more like himself and not some stud on the prowl. He also didn’t feel you up, which, though given the opportunity, you appreciated.
He didn’t get ahead of himself.
You read that and more.
Every little tick through the exhalation of really meeting him for the first time.
You were intoxicated though your cup was empty.
You went for a few rounds, rocking to a particular rhythm that kept getting interrupted as you couldn’t stop talking until you felt him go awkward in a new way. It started first in his arms which stopped grooving to the repetitive beat. It then crawled into his shoulders where they pinched high around his neck. The muscles there bulged with a sort of surprised agitation as though someone had gotten the jump on him.
He kindly asked for a moment and you left the dance floor together.
He stopped you just shy of a wall and turned with urgency. “This is wonderful! You are wonderful! Please make no mistake, but I desperately need to, uh, use… well, yes! The-the… restroom! I need to use the restroom if you wouldn’t mind waiting?!”
You dropped your worry in exchange for a small smile.
It was embarrassing enough to need to ask someone you had just met to go to the bathroom without the implication that the dance had caused the necessary trip.
“Sure, I’m gonna get another drink! Want one?!”
Relief washed over him and he clearly checked his hands where that margarita of his had simply vanished. “Yes! If Piebald is willing to make me another! Watch her! Don’t let her put what she calls an ‘ocean touch’ on it! She’ll turn it into a salt lick! Old revenge!”
You wanted to ask what he could have done to that pretty goldfish, but you felt the time constraints of his situation as a faint twitch caught one of his eyes. “Ocean touch! Got it!”
“Many thanks!” He almost left, turned back, and squeezed your hands once before leaving with a, “I’ll be right back!”
You nodded maybe a little too thickly and he scurried through the crowd.
You took a moment.
Breathed in a heavy breath and looked up at the ceiling.
You were smitten.
It was a nostalgic ‘oh no.’
You found a wall to sink your feelings into.
There were many.
You were giddy as you crawled along a threshold to get those drinks. The cute goldfish prepared cups for you and Donnie. She almost added the salt he mentioned, but you politely stopped her. She appraised how you knew her trick and felt a little like you might be in the know. She told you she was Donatello’s sister of sorts and told you that his greatest fear was beach balls of all things.
He was adorable.
So very relatable despite being such a fantastical guy.
You drifted from her as you waited.
Maybe fate wasn’t so bad.
Though, he was taking a while.
The thought hit you with a chugging train of doubts.
It caught on the first rotation of wheels.
He had gone to lengths to reassure you, but what if that was a ruse?
You barely knew him.
Three total looks and a short exchange at a party.
Concern took you into a hall.
There were thumping crowds and you abandoned the drinks by passing them off.
They were accepted happily.
You could have another batch made; that wasn’t the issue.
You squirmed down a hallway.
You found the downstairs bathroom devoid of Donatello amongst a swap of people in an obvious line.
One he wasn’t in.
You checked the living room on a rotation through the stairs.
It was full, but no purple head stood above the rest.
You took the stairs.
One step at a time and each occupied by one or more persons.
And a cluster of doubts.
They popped with each step and floated up to you.
Maybe you had talked too much.
Maybe you had been too stern about his dancng.
Maybe you were being too judgmental instead of feeling him out like you thought.
He had done an assessment of his own, you had to assume.
One checking a potential partner.
Or a lay, you leaned into toxicity on the landing of the second floor.
A height above, you were painfully aware of the impermanence.
You hadn’t intended to give him the impression you were going to sleep with him tonight and maybe that was a problem.
Had each heated exchange been read by him as only bedroom eyes?
The upstairs bathroom door was open and a couple was making out on the countertop.
You moved forward.
Should that have been you?
Had you warded him off?
You weren’t easy enough to prey on.
You couldn’t be wooed in a traditional sense because it was one you didn’t believe in.
Letting yourself start to fall for the facade seemed like a downfall.
You tried a bedroom door.
Locked.
You tried another.
This was too much.
It opened.
You saw a room.
A little messy, but oddly familiar.
Without any way of knowing for sure, it felt like April’s.
There was a little dog bed monogrammed for a ‘Mayhem.’
You wondered what a pet like that looked like and saw a sliver of cold bathroom light.
You heard Donnie’s voice.
Muffled through the turn of a wall and by the latent sounds of music.
You ventured forward.
This was against house party protocol.
“Hurry up, I’ve been gone too long!”
“Stop being so pushy! Geez!”
It was Donnie.
It was April.
The door was half closed and you lightly touched it for a crease more of the scene.
April was caged against a countertop full of products and had her arms up around Donnie’s head.
Her arms obscured his face, but he was clearly leaning down into hers.
You turned so fast you tripped.
“HEY!” April was immediately in motion at the sound. “No one in the bedrooms! What the fuck-!?”
Her name fell off your lips and hit the floor in a horrified way.
You scrambled on your hands and knees.
You shoved off the heels of your hands and pushed in a forward motion.
You were off down the stairs and the temperature differential from the bedroom to the party proper boiled your skin.
Donnie called out your name.
You never considered.
Not for a second.
What their relation to each other would be.
How they knew each other.
April was the known equation.
You took each stair with incredible finesse as if you memorized the footholds.
April could have been anything to him, a regular Schrödinger’s person
You bobbed and weaved through every person in the waves of heat.
April was something to him; you had opened the box.
You exited the house with someone familiar pitching a lingering question to your escape and hit the pavement off the porch at top speed.
You ran straight out of the very neighborhood before you ever chanced looking back.
-
“And you won’t give me the contact info!” Donnie turned and the frame rate dropped.
It was like that.
When an emotion was too big.
An irritant too strong.
A sound too loud.
The world would become jagged.
Like all its caring edges were removed.
With it the pixilation, not unlike his powers, would fracture.
Split.
Break.
Along with his sanity.
Not that it mattered.
“Boy!” April dotted his head as one of her first threats that he was crossing a line he had no way of stepping back from. “I’ve told you, I don’t have the digits! My phone broke on a mission! You were there! You replaced it! You were the one that couldn’t salvage the data because that electric eel corrupted my cloud connection or whatever!”
It was the day old cabbage carcass rotting in the garbage from the katsu Mikey made yesterday.
It was the infuriating fact that he still couldn’t find you.
“Okay.” April had long learned his limits and coaxed him without the touch he couldn’t stand. “I get you’re upset, but c’mon, Donnie. How could I-no-we-!?”
She gestured to his brothers who were all standing by.
“How were we to know you were in nuclear level crush territory!? You didn’t tell anyone!”
“That-!” Donnie flared and a figment of Leo gave him a tip of his head.
It should have been obvious.
It couldn’t have been.
He walked along the contradictory thoughts that raged inside his head.
This was about the time to tinker with a project.
Get his hands on some kind of schematic.
Make it tangible.
Calm down.
It wasn’t working.
His brain wasn’t working.
None of his usual soothing measures were working.
You were lost and that was the problem.
Not being able to find you was driving him insane.
How?
How did you elude him?
How had you before?
You were right there.
Near his circle of trust.
Just outside it, an enigma of your own.
Now you had this misconception in your head.
You were as elusive as ever and the damndest tiny bit of clout he had conjured up with you had been snuffed out.
He knew your name and that meant nothing.
He found a library card with an aged address and older phone number.
You hadn’t been the one to sign up for the pizza class or the gym; your friends had.
You had graduation notices and nothing more from the last five years.
They should all see.
They couldn’t.
The world didn’t right itself.
The pieces didn’t connect, but he saw the fallacy.
“It doesn’t make sense.” His palm struck his head.
“You tried asking your friends?” Mikey asked April gently.
“I mean, yeah, but I screwed up the question. They already saw us together and thought we were dating! That was a hot minute ago now, D! You didn't tell the rest of us that you even had this crush until a few nights ago. So when I'm scrambling to get a number this long afterward, their friends already know the situation and are naturally assuming I'm trying to stir shit. Everyone got cagey. A good friend isn’t going to hand over their friend’s number to someone they think hurt them. You picked ’em good, Don. They’ve got a tight circle. I mean, it’s my circle too, so I know what it’s like.” April sighed.
“No phone and no social media presence.” Donnie grouched.
“So they took online safety to heart? So what? I know you got at least a hundred dummy accounts.” April went on.
“I have reasonable-!” He screwed his eyes shut and flickers strung lights across the backs of his eyelids.
“Playing the blame game ain’t fixing nothing.” Raph was nearby in the same spot he had been. “There’s gotta be another way we can reach out? Our whole thing is finding people. Let’s go old school, not Donnie-style. We can do that. We’ve done it before.”
A twitch caused Donnie to curl.
“Or…” Leo stretched the syllable. “The biggest hear me out… He drops it.”
All eyes turned on him.
He held his hands up and the pages of a comic loosened in his grip. “I’m… just saying. You’ve told the story. You’ve got a handful, depending on the mutant, of run-ins with some nobody and that’s like fate, sure, but fate also said ‘no dice’ by making this misunderstanding happen. It’s like that! You meet someone or you don’t. This sounds less like a will-they-won’t-they and more like a missed connection. Remember how we used to read those?”
“'Saw you outside of a pharmacy in Brooklyn!’” Mikey crooned. “Those two really met up. What a love story!”
“Eh… call me captain cupid-cide, but I always read them like the funny pages. Those ads are so desperate…!” Leo rolled a bad taste in his mouth.
Raph folded his arms and took a stern stance.
“What!? Sorry I’m not gushing over a hook-up like Michael over here!”
“True love is real, Leo. This is textbook. Don’s living out a romance novel for real! We should help him!” Raph unfurled to tap his palm.
“Like palm reading! Are we reading our love lines again!?” The motion jarred Mikey. “Donnie! Remind me of yours! We’ll figure this out! I seem to remember an obstacle that-!”
“No, we don’t need more superstition! Don’t you get it!? We’ve got two people with hurt feelings! We’re brainstorming a way to fix that. Come on Doctor Feelings. Communication is key right now!” April threw a hand out.
Mikey grimaced into his frame. “I lost my glasses though…”
“Again? Miguel, seriously?!” Leo clapped.
“I swear I was wearing them when I was doing laundry and-!”
“Leo’s right.” Donnie spoke.
There was a still moment, a slow rotation that only lagged a little.
“I usually love when you admit that but…” Leo studied him.
“It was a few chance meetings, a short talk, and asking them to trust… someone they didn’t know… I would have thought the worst and I would have barred them from all contact too. That’s… how it is. Because I…!”
Couldn’t take it.
Not now.
Not then.
Not during the party where the music hadn’t exceeded his preferred decibel level, but they hadn’t matched the playlist to BPM in a way that was pleasing to the tympanum.
Not when that flashy shirt of his no longer felt like it did off the rack and its every fiber was scraping his shell.
Not when he only wanted to focus on you, but every ham and egger in existence just had to bump into him because they couldn’t keep to themselves for a single solitary second.
He had walked away from you.
He knew the chances when he left.
That you wouldn’t understand his reasoning.
Most people didn’t.
Not when things that any other individual could stand, ones he could also stand, suddenly weren’t ones he could tolerate.
A change that happened without his input, but one he was chained to.
That was his version of fate and he was obliged to listen.
He had to run.
He needed to nullify at least one irritant.
He had stowed back-up aids in April’s closet.
A pair of his goggles were in there.
Ones he had foolishly opted out of when dressing for the evening.
All in the name of some inane attempt to look more alluring.
Only children still needed sensory headphones.
You had already given him such an allowance of good faith.
You accepted his mutant existence.
He didn’t want to add a neurological disorder on so early.
You eased into that.
Second date talking points, perhaps.
If he had gotten that far.
No, he had run away to drown out the noise.
He decided if just one variable could be adjusted then he could recover and continue courting you.
Of course the damn back-up goggles weren’t properly tuned.
They were extras for a reason.
April had seen him scurry off and had gone to help.
She let him use her voice as a baseline to tune the transparency mode.
He needed to let a single voice pass through.
Yours.
One that would be right next to him.
He only needed a few minutes of April’s time to prepare.
Then, there you were.
And there you weren’t.
It was on him.
A fragile chance.
Not fate.
Fate was a burden.
Courtship was fickle.
He had made many mistakes in the past.
The dos and don’ts of relationships didn’t come as easily to him.
Not with their social etiquette.
He had thought.
Nay, he had been fooled.
By coincidence and repetition.
Into thinking such a thing could be avoided.
It was all the same.
There wasn’t even a guarantee if you had gotten your explanation, that you would still want him as a partner.
Any number of other things could have put you off.
He was clingy.
Irrational.
Histrionic.
“I’m gonna go for a walk.” He decided and headed towards the door.
“Aw, Donnie…” Mikey’s heart broke in his voice.
“Want company?” Raph offered.
“We’ll think of something. Right, Lee?” April asked.
“Sure, I said my piece, but there’s all sorts of ways…” Leo was less inclined, but obviously felt a tug of guilt.
“Another time, perhaps.” Donnie dismissed them all with one calculated phrase and headed down the tunnels.
They were cold and inherently curved.
He saw more of their smooth lines as he went.
That was good.
A good sign.
He passed the line between subway and sewer for the closet exit.
The manhole was heavy and perfectly round.
He pushed it aside and the drag of metal and concrete only made him wince a little.
He emerged into twilight.
A heavy foreboding orange dragged out long shadows.
He traced them with his gaze, then feet.
He followed their lines.
Segments of the sidewalk.
The pavers could have been placed better.
They weren’t even.
He counted out how many flaws were laid in business planning and what he would note in his letter to the city.
Now that was a method of self-soothing that was always productive.
He reached a bus stop where a few people waited for the next one.
He stood amongst them.
For the hour, for humans who were probably just off the clock, no one looked at him.
He languished in anonymity.
He’d have more if he boarded.
Everyone kept to themselves on a bus.
The smell would need to be trifled with.
The sticky seats.
Stains.
The gentle rocking motion had merit.
On the scale, he weighed options and they tipped in favor of going for a ride.
Not that it mattered, but he turned to check the posted schedule.
You were there.
He blinked.
It was a trick of the light.
The sun was behind you.
No.
There you were.
Your eyes were tucked into your side as you struggled with your bag.
Presumably searching for your way to pay the fare.
OMNY on your phone, perhaps?
He should have checked the bus records for you.
He said your name without meaning to.
You froze as you identified the voice.
He should leave.
This wasn’t right.
Five times?
Five times when he couldn’t find you online.
Five entire times you ran into each other by pure chance.
That was lunacy.
Not fate.
A cruel hand.
Trapping two individuals to repeat a dance neither wanted to partake in.
“I’ll… I’ll take the next-!” You tried to leave.
He caught your arm.
The moment stretched as far as the fading shadows.
You turned in slow motion.
Your expression was wet.
Wounded.
Not from his touch.
Why had he done that?
Defiance?
Of what?
Fate?
The repetition?
He shouldn’t meddle in an experiment.
That wasn’t a controlled variable.
That was entropy.
“I’m sorry!!!” You blurted out.
“Sorry?” His mind repeated.
“I should have realized!” Your arm slipped from his loose hold. “I didn’t know you and April were-!”
Your head tossed and he shouldn’t have found your struggle so adorable.
“I must have seemed desperate! Following you when you had-!”
“April is my sister.”
For a moment, the words didn’t register.
When they did, you went owlish.
“She…?”
“Did you… really think you had the wrong idea? That I didn’t care? I was sure the feeling was mutual and you..!”
You blinked in a feather duster of lashes that seemed to expound all the insanity of the past month or so.
“Thought that I had deceived you! That I was a two-timer, though I could do far better than April, I’ll have you know and that’s barring the fact that she’s not even interested in-!”
“I did.”
He snapped to attention.
“I… I did think that… At first…” You shrank.
The bus pulled up with a yawn and sigh.
“But then I thought about it and it felt like… I was in the wrong. I didn’t let you dance how you wanted. I kept deciding how you were in my head… I don’t know. It… I got really embarrassed like what the heck was I doing? And then I… buried my head. I do that… sometimes. When things get to be too much. I stick my head in sand and tune everything else out.”
“Me too.” He said with far too much clarity.
You heard it and studied him.
“The… The reason I left you…” He brought his hands up and his goggles were in their rightful place.
“What… are those? I don’t remember you wearing those… Wait… You didn’t have them the first time I saw you or…”
“I took them off at Brooklyn flea because it was too hot.”
“It was so hot! I feel like all my memories from that day are cooked!”
He chuckled despite himself.
You did as well.
“I… was worried what you would think of me.”
“For wearing goggles…?”
“For needing their built-in hypersensitivity or sensory overload negating capabilities.”
“Oh.”
He gave a shallow nod.
“It was loud.” You spoke with a thread of understanding.
He tried not to tie himself to it. “I understand the value of… what could be considered, first impressions.”
“You left because you were overstimulated? Donnie, I swear wouldn’t have thought less of you. I don’t now and wouldn’t have then.”
He felt the shine in his eye.
“I… don’t understand how April fits into that though…?”
“The tuning! I needed to tune all else out. All except… the voice of someone close…”
“She was helping you… do that?”
“Only that. I was going to return to your side as soon as the settings were adequate.”
“So all this…?” Shame tinted you.
“A missed connection.” He guessed Leo’s point had some merit.
“Except… we’re here now…” You seemed to only then register the chances. “Five times. This is the fifth time that we’ve run into each other…!”
“It would have been sooner if-!”
Your brows rose.
He turned away. “If-!”
“If…?” You encouraged.
“I looked for you.” He had enough.
Enough of silly practices and indulging fate.
He was going to decide how this next part went. “I do not handle physical boundaries well, not in the technological world we find ourselves in. I am a mutant and I find surveillance to be paramount to safety. I think considering it an invasion of privacy when it is done with good intention is asinine. It is a senseless divide when those I care about could go missing. Why not track my loved ones?”
“Oh…” You made that sound again.
“And I… I tried to extend that to you. I looked everywhere online, but could not find any shred of existence that tied to your current whereabouts. It was utterly maddening. What if something were to happen to you!? So few people know your contact information which you may consider a precaution, but imagine it from a detective’s perspective!”
You stared.
That did it.
He cinched this particular meeting’s fate.
It felt oddly settling, if not a little sad.
A bid farewell to what could have been.
The heft lingered in his chest, but at least his mind was quiet.
Despite its ramblings, the rationale of his mind usually knew best.
Truth was the enemy of fate.
The requisite necessity of spoonfeeding another person your idiosyncrasies was to ease them into it.
Reality shock was well documented to lead to disappointment, confusion, and stress.
This was what all those romance stories couldn’t include as it broke immersion.
Who wants to hear negatives in a story that should be upbeat?
“Well… there’s the other side of that.”
Heart or mind, both stopped to listen.
“‘Cause I really don’t think it was good for my mental health the way I was… psuedo-stalking my would-bes back in the day… You were looking for me, but how do you decide what a good intention is? Was that one? I was looking through these people’s profiles, going years back, and one day I thought, what the heck am I doing? Trying to find out literally everything about a person without… actually finding out about them. What’s that? So… I had to stop. I deleted all my social media because I had to and quit cold turkey. I decided I wanted to… you know? Actually experience other people… instead of… deciding based on some construction they put out there.”
He stared and saw pieces of you fit in too well with his own.
“But I ended up still doing that anyway, so great…!” Sarcasm sunk in and you looked sullen with it.
He wanted to scoop you up out of the negative thoughts. “Well… Actually, I would say that you made an educated guess based on the limited information given to you. I can’t say it was beyond me to make a similar judgment. Hypothesis is but existing knowledge, grown from previous observations, funneled through background research, and thoroughly tested.”
“Science and tech…?” You adjusted your bag.
It read to him like a charming fidget. “Truly, two of my greatest loves. That and disproving fiction. This includes, but is not limited to luck, superstition, old wives’ tales, and… fate.”
You were moved into an outstretched hand to steady yourself.
He took it.
You paused.
He inhaled sharply.
You looked.
He did the same.
You squeezed.
He loosened.
“Donnie…” You murmured.
“I like you.”
The tilt of your head was up with your spirits.
“I do. I really do. Nothing you’ve said has deterred me. What I dislike is how we’ve missed all these chances. I’ve had enough. Let us face this, my dear. I am smitten and would like to pursue your company of my own volition and not these accursed means.”
“You're serious?”
“Do I look anything but…?” He offered you his full confidence.
“Okay…” You exhaled with your whole form. “Okay! You’re right! What is all that stuff!? It’s not like either of us are looking for red thread!”
“Love at first sight!” He mocked.
“Yeah, no thanks. I’m honestly glad we didn’t talk that first time because I would have hated you on principle.”
“It was the weather!”
“And the second time I was so exhausted. You would have hated me.”
“Doubtful, I feel as though there might have been commiseration.” He openly thought. “Though, I was in pain and I’m not known to be the most accommodating patient…”
“Then… was that your brother who blew up the Brainery?”
“It was one room and a sloppy joe derivative.”
“What does that even mean!?” You giggled in a way that summoned the final desperate rays of sunshine being smothered.
He spoke your name to bewitch you.
It worked as you addressed him with your being.
“What say you?”
You thought only for a moment. “That… so far you’re dramatic and adorable.”
An irritated sound caught in his throat.
“But I’m okay with all that and you sound like you’re okay with all of me, or, at least, finding out more… So, yes, Donatello, even though you did not ask me a question, I like you too. Dinner?”
He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but what came off his lips was, “Now!?”
“No!” You reared. “On our own time!”
“Right.” The meaning expounded in his mind. “Yes, of course! This weekend?”
“Saturday?”
“7pm? I’ll make a reservation.”
“It’s a date.”
His heart leapt clean through his brain stem in an anatomical impossibility.
“If I give you my number, are you going to put it through some database…?”
He couldn’t, or more aptly, didn’t feel like lying. “I reserve the right.”
“It’s like signing up for rewards points. All they do is track you. This is why I swore it off!”
“Why complain? It’s clearly something you've never done in your life.” He pulled out his phone.
“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?” You took it to put your contact information in.
“For as long as we see fit.”
You smiled into hitting save. “I can’t wait to find out how long.”
(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon.)
Even when I change things down to the wire and confuse them, my sweet betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup are so kind and I'm as thankful as ever!
author’s note: I was listening to " Gotta Get Thru This " by Daniel Bedingfield and did my usual " textual idea dump on my beloved @tmntxthings " and thus came the birth of this. It called to me like the Green Goblin mask.
word count: 2.1k
Donnie felt like the air was actively being vacuumed from his chest with how it collapsed hollow. Each breath felt sharp, like it was a command working against its code—a forbidden opening.
“ D-Donnie.. ”
Your voice was so tiny as you pressed flat against his battle shell. If you could shrink any smaller, you would.
What could he do?
This was all his fault.
His hand wanted to let go of his tech-no and intertwine with yours, give it a little squeeze, and a few Leo-Approved jokes to quell your heart.
Instead, his grip tightened impossibly.
“ We’re going to get through this. ”
We have to.
His tone carried none of the reassurance to settle your mind.
———————————-
There are many things in this world with varying degrees of tangibility.
Some items are common, any regular layman could stumble upon it and just have it.
Then there’s things you need certifications for—things you have to be approved, permissed, ALLOWED.
There’s things only Donnie could get amidst all his Donnie ways.
And then there were treasure troves of materials suspended over his head, a golden carrot dangling teasingly. Those items were held by lords he preferred never to consider out of fear it would adjust his perceived position in the food chain.
That ignorance bypasses greed and an ego one should be wary of.
“ So! My sweet turtly-boo~<3. “
Big Mama’s sickeningly honeyed voice spoke sing-songy to the purple-banded turtle.
“ I believe it’s time to revisit our scrum-diddily-umptious contractie-doo~! ”
Talking to her was a pain. If you focused too hard on trying to keep a running display of her sentences in your mind, hoping to connect the words and translate them to the commoner’s tongue, the end result is a complete wiping of the working memory.
To put it plainly, think too hard and you’ll just miss it entirely.
To combat this, Donnie would fight dirty.
See, Big Mama had an incredible inventory of palladium stored up currently. Where she got it was a story for another day. All that mattered at the time was breaking a deal of sorts until he had what he needed—though, maybe he accrued more than he needed and kept that a secret since it would breach the contract’s guidelines of ‘ only what is within necessity.’
But hey, how’s she to know? They didn’t specify an exact amount.
Only a broad ‘ a decent amount ’ clause.
Donnie grinned internally as she slid the contract over.
In exchange, she had requested him to simply visit some Undercity mines recently acquired through client debts. The problem was the trek, but in comparison to the pay?
Child’s play.
Just a couple more minutes of discussion and he would be scot-free!
“ I shall miss our tizzily-meetings dearly~. You are always such a dependa-wendable business partner. ”
Big Mama’s purred as she leaned leftwards on her desk, head lowering to rest against her propped-up palm.
Donnie glossed over her small-talk. It was best not to entertain her too much, lest she read between some sort of lines and catch a nefarious shift-in-your-seat or two.
“ Well, I have never been known to engage in anything dubious, Big Mama. ”
He scanned the document to ensure she hadn’t slipped in any dangerous fine print.
“ And your company! A delight. Why, you shouldn’t be such a sillywag always. Won’t you indulge in one of the many splendifirous invites I’ve sent you for my Battle Nexus? ”
She swung her right leg to cross over her left, gaze sliding from the neatly-sat turtle to rest affectionately upon the TV on her far left. It was displaying a current match.
Donnie paid no mind as he thumbed through the pages with a careful eye. Occasionally, a robotic limb would extend from his battle-shell. Its tip folded out into a magnifying glass.
She was a crafty businesswoman, that’s for sure. Plenty of fine print to discuss, each of which was highlighted diligently.
The tv was low, though occasionally he could catch tidbits. Something about yet another unwitting participant.
Likely some poor sap she suckered into that arena. Donnie wondered how it hadn’t gotten shut down by now.
“ I have no interest in unnecessary battle, Big Mama, that wasted time could be filled with prevailing science. ”
He added with a smile, gaze unwavering from the stack of paperwork.
“ Right you are, that is exactly what I’ve always admired of you, my little binglebeet.. ”
Whatever the hell that meant.
Big Mama reached for a remote, tapping the volume up a few notches. Her hands clasped together as her eyes stayed affectionately locked on to the display.
“ A shame, truly. I had considered you being smitherily-toodled over my next match-ups in the Battle Nexus. “
He quirked an eyebrow curiously. Such an odd emphasis—why was she so hung up on his opinion of her crude battle rink?
Her smile grew in such a way that her eyes crinkled near-close. The room seemed like it was heating up—tightening, too. Like a string pulled so taut.
Something was wrong.
“ They’re dedicated to you for your jurfuzzious trustability. ”
Donnie felt an odd sensation settling in his chest as his gaze finally lifted.
Was she onto him?
His ears unintentionally zones in to the announcers discussing a match happening next, within the hour or so. They were teasing the fighter for their shown-cowardice. Donnie’s eyes lazily followed Big Mama’s for only a second, catching a mess of unrecognized colors and figures on the screen, before he lulled his vision back to the contract.
His three digits planted gently on their surface, sliding it across the table with just enough force.
“ Right. Let’s discuss first clause d—“
“—onnie! Ple—“
A familiar voice crackled from the TV. He stiffened up as he recalled the mess of figures he saw for a split second.
Donnie snapped his attention back to the screen.
He recognized the involuntary volunteer.
It was you.
The Battle Nexus stream was doing a playback, the scene framed with taunting illustrations like a silly happenstance in a baseball game or something.
Some hefty yokai were gripping your forearms in a way he clocked immediately as too tight—you were hardly even a fan of his occasional touches, so surely that sort of manhandling was too far.
“ Now that’s what Big Mama’s was looking for. you’re swimmingly enraptured now, my tusittery turtly-boo. “
Big Mama spoke with a jarring smile.
Donnie’s face was drained away of its previously stoic expression, melting into a contorted fear.
One of the attendants gripped your face to harshly turn it to the camera, their thumb and index fingers jabbing harshly into your cheeks.
“ Let’s hear it for the Horrid Human! How many rounds do we think it can take?! Cast your votes now, folks! ”
An announcer’s voice coursed through the entire arena, riling up the audience until they roared with laughter and rumbling anticipation.
You fought, struggling and wriggling enough to break free.
Donnie rose from his seat slowly.
The cameraman trailed after you with a speed very obviously slower than what he was capable of. As you tried to clamber down the hall, the yokai previously holding you caught up chillingly quick. They yanked you back, and your scream was the last thing before the recording cut to commercial.
A countdown appeared in the left corner.
38 minutes until ‘ the horrid human’s match ’ began.
Donnie wasn’t sure when he started running. He wasn’t sure where he was going, and he wasn’t sure why Bug Mama and her lackeys hadn’t stopped him from running out without signing anything.
All he knew was he had to get to you, and something bad was putting a sickening, plummeting feeling in his chest.
———————
The voices of creatures you couldn’t have fathomed cackled behind you, echoing. Your footfalls were heavy as a storm as you crashed down the hallways, yet still—even at EVERY bend of the corner—you still could hear the pursuing steps of the arena attendants behind you.
Mentally, pleads crossed your mind, screaming for a chance, a slip-up, just SOMETHING to put an ever-growing gap between you and them.
Instead, the oxygen in your body seemed to keep running out as your arm was jerked backwards. Your hand reached out feebly for the never-ending hallway as if it would reach out and pull you out of here.
“ Let go! ”
You cried, pathetically kicking your feet as a lion-like creature took ahold of your ankles. Behind you stood a wall of a creature, hulking over with a figure similar to Raph’s.
“ Yeah, like that’s happening. ”
The lion-ish yokai snickered as they dragged you back. The camera was mocking you, making a show out of your agony.
Why were they even after YOU? You had no powers, you had no money, you had no influence! Just a regular student in the city of New York, nothing particularly special except—
…
“ … Donnie.. ”
Just a little whisper, a soft wish beckoning your savior.. Hope petered out of your heart’s chambers with each passing second. The muscles in your arms and legs begged for a second to rest, to just lay down, to be back cozy at home—or maybe just anywhere but here. Hell, you’d settle even for a bus stop bench at this point.
Even that would be less terrifying than the sight before you.
The attendants had dragged you all the way back to the arena, shoving you down into what seemed like a ground made of plush dirt. It wasn’t as light as sand, but it was soft enough to brittle in your shaking hands. As your gaze rose from the ground you clung to, it settled upon a figure even larger than the big attendant.
He resembled something of a shark, slamming his webbed fist into his opposite palm as he worked himself up for what you could only assume was his battle with you.
“ Th-There’s been a mistake, please! ”
You flopped backwards, crawling desperately to put space between you and him.
“ I’m not a fighter! ”
“ If Big Mama says ya fight, ”
The Raph-like yokai leaned down, flashing a sharp toothy grin.
“—then yer a fighter. ”
His lion partner patted his back, muttering praise, ‘ hah, you really told ‘em, heinous green! ‘ and cackling hard enough to bend over and slap his knee.
You were starting to zone out as you slowly turned back toward the shark opponent. He was lowering his stance and spreading out his arms, preparing to charge towards you as soon as the bell allowed it.
You weren’t going to fight..
You couldn’t—against THAT? By yourself?
“ Do.. Do I get a weapon, at least? ”
The lion opened his mouth to retort, only to be stopped short as a purple bar collided into the side of his jaw. Where a stranger once stood now was replaced with a desperately familiar vigilante you couldn’t have been happier to see.
Donnie’s chest heaved frantically, his breathing all over the place. You wondered how he knew where to find you, and then wondered just how far he was—how long he’d ran.
He couldn’t have taken any breaks, given the state he was in. With wild, blown eyes, he snapped his attention towards you and seemed to melt away instantly as if you were his cure. Donnie nearly pounced you, his Bo dropping beside you both as his arms brought you in tight and suffocating. His bicep protected your head from slamming into the dirt with the force he embraced you with.
“ I’m so sorry. ”
He whispered to you, trembling.
You watched as the hallway you had been dragged down was cut off, grates dropped down like jaws snapping closed. Heinous Green and the knocked-prone lion were trapped in here with you both, stuck with the opponent that announcers cried out a moniker of ‘ the ruthless armaggon !! ’
It would’ve been heaven to melt into his embrace right now, but it felt like the nightmare was far from passing its apex, let alone the halfway point.
There was very little you could do but gently tug away from Donnie.
“ What happened? ”
He hesitated for a second as if pulling away was equivalent to losing you, but he relented nonetheless. Donnie pulled away, one hand on your shoulder like a lifeline as the other felt around for his tech-bo.
“ I’m… afraid. ”
Afraid to tell you, at least. Worried that what he suspected was true—that Big Mama’s true intentions with the deal were always to get to you. Or maybe you were just collateral, he didn’t know.
There were too many anomalies in the mix, so he wasn’t comfortably settled in any final deduction..
“ Okay.. ”
You responded, heart heavy with discomfort over that answer. Gazing over the battle field, you watched the ground under the shark crumbling from his weight. He was a tightly wound spring waiting for the seconds until the match officially began.
You wondered just how many seconds following would it take before this ‘ armaggon ‘ claimed victory in the ring.
does anyone have a rottmnt reader insert that takes place during the series?? i love feeling like apart of the show but fics like that are so hard to find :((
Cara, agora eu fiquei imaginando o que aconteceria se a S/N acabasse de se transformar em um mutante, e em um coelhinho, um coelhinho de orelhas compridas, que não conseguissem se levantar mais. E o que aconteceria é que a S/N acabou se transformando em um mutante. Eu acho que aconteceu por causa de algum experimento do Draxum, e a coitada da S/N estava perto nisso. Imagina a reação das tartarugas e do Yuichi usagi tentando se comunicar com a S/N, mas a S/N não consegue falar, só conseguindo fazer alguns barulhos de rosnados, ou algum barulho de coelho faz. Eu fiz alguns esboços, como achei que a S/N seria, na minha opinião.
Oh my, that would be so cute! They would definitely love Y/N bunny.
Y/N definitely couldn't talk much because of her new body; somehow it affected the way she spoke...
Similar to the Cass Apocalypse AU comic (in the chapter where Casey ends up turning into a turtle).
Raph had a pretty strict routine for himself. He could get pretty moody if he didn't get enough sleep.
You often stayed in the lair, it wasn't a surprise to anyone if you chose to stay the night.
Where you would sleep was always different. Sometimes, you'd be on the couch. Other times you would join the brothers in their Turtle Pile™.
But if you were to pick a room to sleep in, it would almost always be Raph's.
His room was the biggest, it had the biggest bed. He was the big brother after all.
Raph would always flush red whenever you'd tell him that you wanted to bunk with him.
“Really? Me? Ya don't wanna go sleep with Mikey or something?
You shake your head. You insist that you want to stay with the snapper.
“O-oh! Yeah. You can..stay with me then!
His tail was practically wagging. Out of everyone, you chose him. He was ecstatic.
You both made your way to Raph's room. It was a familiar place for you both.
Raph's room was strangely organised. Hand wrappings neatly folded at his bedside. His bed was made crudely but it was still neat. Soft plushies sat on his bed, along with many blankets and throws.
His room didn't have an awful lot in it, but it still screamed Raph.
Raph sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs as if he hadn't cuddled up to you on several different occasions.
You rolled your eyes, shooing him over to make space so that you could lie down.
Raph was always cautious whenever he was close to you. With his brothers, he had less fear, they were tougher than you were. They could move around him without even looking.
You were soft and squishy, everything Raph wasn't.
“You're thinking too hard, Raph. Just relax.”
He did relax. Slowly. Very slowly. Deep down, he was still scared that he'd squash you. But your confidence gave him confidence in himself.
You both got comfy. Talking about random things, what you had been doing that day, how your family was. Small things.
The conversation slowly dwindled. You were both just mumbling words to each other.
Sleep came quickly. You were sprawled out on Raph's bed, an arm laying across his plastron. Your legs tangled together.
Leonardo
You two had been up for hours. Watching Jupiter Jim, even reading the comics together.
It was late. Really late. Leo didn't seem tired at all, you however, were having trouble keeping your eyes open.
Eventually, you both retreated into Leo's room after Splinter had woken up and scolded you both.
“Get to bed you defiant teens! Or I will take away your games..”
That was more of a threat to Leo than it was to you, but you both scurried away anyway.
Leo's room was warm and comforting. Posters hung on the walls, fairy lights dangled from the ceiling. It was the perfect place to sleep.
Leo guided you to his bed, letting you lie down first like the gentleman he is.
“You get comfy–! I've gotta..get something real quick!”
Leo hurried away. Leaving you to get settled. You took this opportunity to look around his room. It was entirely Leo. It was a mess, but an organised one.
Random weapons were strewn across the room, candy wrappers on the floor. Comic books stacked in different places.
Your observing was cut short and Leo skidded back into the room. He had two mugs in his hands. Hot milk.
“Here. Just…it helps me sleep. I thought you'd like it too?”
Leo scooted into his bed beside you, careful not to spill either mug. He huffed in content.
You both sipped quietly. Then a little louder. Then even louder. Till you were both giggling beside each other, mugs discarded.
The room was quiet, but a good quiet. It was light. Nothing loomed, nobody disturbed you two.
Your eyes started to close. Leo's weren't far behind. Your breathing followed Leo's.
The room was filled with your soft snores. You were content. Safe with Leo. Sleep had never come easier.
Leo wasn't far behind, his own eyes starting to close as he shifted closer to you.
He fell asleep right next to you. His right arm caught in your grip.
For Leo, this was the quickest he had fallen asleep in a long time.
Donatello
It was rare that you would get the opportunity to fall asleep with Donnie. He'd usually be too busy, cooped up in his lab.
Although, sometimes if you try hard enough. You're able to drag him out of his lab.
He protests loudly. Legs and arms flailing to get back to his work.
Realistically, he could escape from your grip easily if he wanted to. But he finds your insistence and determination amusing. So he lets himself be dragged.
“I'm missing out on valuable research time because YOU want to cuddle! Scoff. Don't you want to see what I've been working on?”
You ignore him and he grumbles. He still doesn't fight your pulling.
Eventually after a short while of pulling and complaining, you reach Donnie's room. You practically kick the door open, shoving Donnie inside.
“Congrats. You got us both here. Now what?”
You roll your eyes and shove Donnie onto his bed, he flops down without complaint.
He makes room for you, scooting over slightly. He doesn't nuzzle in close, nor does he pull you to him. You both lie there, barely touching.
Donnie's room is like Raph's, it's an organised mess. Although slightly more organised than the snappers.
It smells clean in Donnie's room. Clean linen and sanitiser fills the room.
It's not hard to get comfy in Donnie's room.
“You are a leech. You take away my science time. You take up all the space in my bed. You—"
His complaints are futile. You're already fast asleep, curled up next to Donnie.
He goes quiet. Pulling a blanket over your body. Making sure you get a proper sleep.
“I guess it's okay. Only for you.”
Michelangelo
Mikey was the one who'd invite you to take a nap with him. It was nothing out of the ordinary.
He'd always be near you. A hand on your shoulder, holding your hand, tickling your side as he walked past. Affection was just how you two thrived. Cuddling while napping was no different.
He eagerly pushed you towards his room.
“Cmon! Cmon! I got this new blanket and it is AWESOME, baby! We gotta test it out together!!”
You had your own spot on Mikey's bed, many of your things had found refuge in his bedroom as well.
Shared hoodies lay on the floor, plushies sat on his bed. A hairbrush was on his desk where he kept his art supplies. It was as much your room as it was his.
You took your spot on his bed. Mikey fetched the blanket and lay down next to you.
The room was filled with your giggles as Mikey spread the blanket over the bed, covering you both from head to toe.
Mikey pokes his head out, you do the same. He laughs at your dishevelled hair.
His arms move, one wriggling under your back and the other laying across your chest. He pulls you close. You practically melt in his hold.
You chat about your day, Mikey tells you about his most recent mission with his brothers and April.
“And then Raph went ‘BOOM! POW!’ it was SO awesome!!”
He was so caught up in his storytelling that he didn't notice that you had fallen asleep, not until your forehead pressed against his plastron.
He smiled sweetly at you, taking that as his cue to settle into dreamland, just like you.
"Nighty night. Nothin' will get you while I'm here."
April O'Neil
You had been relaxing in April's room since she had gone out with the turtles for a mission, you weren't worried. April could handle herself.
Suddenly, the door swung open. There was April. Covered in…gloop? She didn't look happy about it.
She was grumbling to herself. Something about turtles and yokai.
“Didn't go well then? Atleast…you're all in one piece?”
April huffed. She couldn't get mad at you, you had done nothing wrong. She'd throttle the turtles later though.
“Those STUPID— No. No, I'm over it. TOTALLY over it!!”
You get up from where you had been laying, you run a hand down April's back. Dodging the..gloopy stuff.
“How about you..take a shower? I'll get you pyjamas then we can just chill, yeah?”
The promise of relaxing with you soothed April's temper enough for her to go and take a shower. While she did that, you picked out pyjamas for her to wear.
She wasn't in the shower long, soon enough you were both in April's bed as she retold the story of how the mission went.
“So—there was this…gloopy monster thing! It was all going fine until Donnie decided to BLOW IT UP! BAM! Sludge everywhere!”
You soothed April and her woes as she finished her story.
Her dramatic storytelling had tired her out, April was the one who fell asleep first. Clean and safe.
You weren't long after. Happy that April was happy.
I was wondering if you could do a donnie x fem!reader where the reader is like a professional dancer bcs like donnie likes to dance a lot? Feel free to ignore this if you aren't comfortable
Dancer
Donnie x gn!reader
Warnings: none?
A/N: Hope you enjoy!
Donnie loves dancing
That's a well known fact
He loves it
That's why his gamer tag is BootyShaker9000
So when he learned you were a professional?
On his knees
He wants to dance so much
He'll ask every so often
Plus he always has music playing in his lab
So there's always a chance to dance with him there
And you better believe if you ever go somewhere to dance professionally
