hello, I’m not sure if requests are open but if they are could you do 2012 TMNT soulmate hcs for the boys? How they feel prior and how the relationship would be after finding their soulmate. the one where you get a name on your arm or the red string one is fine. Gn or fem reader is okay. Thank you so much.
Red String of Fate |TMNT!2012 masterlist|
Summary: The soulmate connection manifests a red string of fate linking you. Each brother experiences the lead-up differently, often shaped by personality and past experiences.
⚠️WARNING⚠️ Light emotional angst and insecurity, Possessive/protective behavior (especially Raph), Overworking and self-imposed pressure (Leo & Donnie), Mild jealousy, Emotional vulnerability, Brief mentions of fear of rejection
Leo first notices the red string during meditation when he’s still adjusting to the weight of leadership. At first, he assumes it’s some advanced spiritual manifestation—maybe a side effect of deep focus. But when he opens his eyes and the string is still there, faint and glowing against his green skin, his breath catches. It’s tied around his wrist. Leading outward. Somewhere far beyond the lair.
He doesn’t tell Splinter. He doesn’t tell his brothers. Leadership means composure. If Raph found out, he’d mock it. If Mikey found out, he’d make it into a party game. Leo keeps it quiet, studying it in private moments, gently brushing his thumb over it when he’s thinking too hard.
Sometimes it pulls unexpectedly. A faint tug. It distracts him mid-training once, earning a sharp correction from Splinter. Leo goes harder after that. If destiny tied him to someone, then he needs to be worthy of them. Strong enough. Disciplined enough. Good enough.
He wonders who you are. Are you someone brave? Someone kind? Are you in danger? The thought that you might be out there unprotected while he trains underground unsettles him deeply. He finds himself staring at the ceiling late at night, whispering quiet hopes that you’re safe.
He also fears it. What if fate chose someone who doesn’t want a mutant ninja? What if you see him and recoil? The string feels fragile in those moments, like it might snap under doubt alone.
The first time he sees you in person and the string visibly connects from his wrist to yours, he goes still. Completely still. The world fades out around him. The noise of his brothers, the city, everything disappears. It’s just you. And the thread between you.
He becomes very composed immediately. Calm voice. Leader posture. But his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you can hear it. He studies your reaction carefully. Are you scared? Curious? Upset? He prepares himself to give you space if you need it.
After that, his protectiveness shifts into something sharper and more personal. Missions feel heavier. Every injury he takes makes him think of you. He doesn’t want you connected to someone who fails. He trains longer. Pushes harder. Holds himself to impossible standards.
When you eventually tell him that you choose him—not because of some mystical thread but because you genuinely want him—his shoulders drop in a way they rarely do. His smile is small, soft, and real. He presses his forehead gently to yours, the string glowing faintly between you, and for once, he lets himself simply feel instead of lead.
Raph notices the string during a sparring match when it tangles briefly around his sai. He yanks his weapon free and growls, immediately irritated. “Great. Now I’m hallucinating yarn.” He tries to ignore it, but the faint red thread around his wrist refuses to disappear.
He resents it at first. Fate deciding something for him? No thanks. He doesn’t like being told what to do—not by Splinter, not by Leo, and definitely not by some cosmic force. He pulls at it once, testing it. It doesn’t break. That frustrates him even more.
When it tugs randomly during patrols, he snaps at his brothers without realizing why. The distraction makes him sloppy, and he hates that. He prides himself on instinct and power. Something invisible throwing him off balance feels like weakness.
In private, though, he sometimes wraps it tighter around his wrist like a bracelet. It’s not that he likes it. He just… wants to feel it there. To know it’s real. To know someone out there is tied to him.
A quiet fear creeps in occasionally. What if you can’t handle him? His temper. His sharp edges. What if you see the worst parts first? He’d never admit it, but that possibility scares him more than any enemy.
The moment he sees you and the string connects visibly between you both, he goes quiet. Not angry. Not sarcastic. Just stunned. He looks from the thread to your face and back again like he’s waiting for it to vanish.
He tries to act unimpressed. “Huh. So it’s you.” But he doesn’t leave your side. Not even for a second. His stance shifts subtly so he’s always between you and potential threats.
His protectiveness becomes immediate and intense. If someone stands too close to you, the thread goes taut, and so does he. He won’t say much at first, but he’ll fix things for you, stand guard without being asked, and silently memorize what makes you comfortable.
The first time you aren’t afraid of his temper—when you see him soft with his pet or catch him worrying about you—something in him settles. When you tell him you choose him, not just fate, he looks away to hide how much that hits. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and that’s his answer.
Donnie notices the red string almost immediately and assumes it’s a mutation side effect. He scans it with three different devices within an hour. None of them register anything. That only makes him more fascinated.
He tries to calculate its tensile strength. Attempts to determine whether it exists in a measurable dimension. He even builds a small prototype meant to trace its destination. The device shorts out instantly. He stares at it, offended.
He begins logging its movements in a private database. Date. Time. Tug intensity. Possible correlation with environmental variables. He treats it like a research project, but underneath the analysis is nervous curiosity.
He worries about statistical incompatibility. What if you dislike science? What if you find him awkward? What if fate made a computational error? He overthinks every hypothetical scenario.
Sometimes, while working late, he talks to it absentmindedly. “If you’re out there, I hope you appreciate well-organized data.” He flushes afterward, embarrassed even though no one heard him.
When he sees you and the string visibly links your wrists, his brain genuinely stalls. He drops his wrench. His mouth opens and closes twice before sound comes out.
He immediately starts rambling. Explaining the theoretical improbability. Apologizing for rambling. Overanalyzing your facial expression in real time. He’s hyperaware of everything.
He becomes attentive in subtle ways—adjusting lighting if it bothers you, building small gadgets for your safety, remembering details you mention once. His affection expresses itself through problem-solving.
When you eventually tell him you like him—not because destiny dictated it but because you enjoy who he is—he goes very quiet. The realization that love isn’t a variable to be solved but something freely given shifts something fundamental in him. He reaches for your hand gently, almost reverently.
Mikey discovers the string and immediately assumes it’s awesome. He waves his hand around dramatically, watching the faint red thread trail behind it. “Whoa. I’ve got cosmic spaghetti.”
He names it within five minutes. Probably something ridiculous. He talks to it regularly. Tugs it lightly just to see if you feel it on the other end. He imagines you pausing somewhere, confused but curious.
He doesn’t fear it at all. If anything, it excites him. The idea that someone out there is connected to him feels like a secret adventure waiting to happen.
Sometimes he lies on his shell, staring at where the string disappears into space, wondering what your laugh sounds like. He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes you’re kind. He hopes you like pizza.
When it pulls unexpectedly, he gasps dramatically. “Oh! You thinking about me? Because same.” His optimism about it never wavers.
The moment he sees you and the string becomes visible between you, he lights up completely. His eyes go wide. His grin is blinding. “IT’S YOU. I KNEW YOU WERE COOL.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He hugs you immediately unless you visibly pull back. He’s just that certain. To him, fate isn’t restrictive—it’s exciting.
He immediately starts sharing everything he loves. Comics. Cooking experiments. Ridiculous disguises. He wants you in his world fully.
If you’re overwhelmed, though, he notices. His emotional intelligence kicks in fast. He softens. Slows down. Sits beside you instead of bouncing around.
When you tell him you choose him—not just because of destiny—his smile turns softer, less chaotic. He gently loops your pinkies together with the thread and whispers, “Best choice ever.”
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
jacobvanloon
baratheonpilled
dededos
titsay
