No sabo turtle

“LAB INCIDENT” —ft. 2012 Donatello

[ he’s exhausted and snaps at you]

The lair felt different at night.

Not quieter—there was always the distant hum of machinery, the drip of water somewhere deep in the tunnels—but heavier. Like the air itself knew something was off. You noticed it the moment you stepped inside, arms folded tight against yourself as if that would keep the unease from settling in your chest.

Leo had been the one to call you. His voice was calm, as always, but there had been something underneath it—tight, controlled in a way that told you things had already gone too far.

“Two days,” he had said. “He hasn’t slept. Won’t listen to us.”

You didn’t need him to say Donnie’s name. You knew.

this is gonna be WILDLY out of context, vibes only lol. an old draft thing from like 3(?) years ago that I put on quotev, but I still like it so I’m posting it here! enjoy :)

**reader-insert, gender-neutral reader, not edited

———

After knocking on your window and getting no response in return, Leo carefully lifted the glass and began to make his way inside the empty room. He's come over so often you started leaving it unlocked for him.

Patrol that evening had been a little crazy and since he was already in the area, he figured dropping in and telling you all about it was a good excuse to come and hang out with you for awhile. Though, any story that his mind had backlogged seemed to blank out of existence when he finally saw what he was sharing the room with.

He couldn't describe it any other way except a void. A gaping maw of blood and teeth. It stopped him short for a moment but soon he found himself moving closer, a morbid curiosity maybe.

Of course, it was only a painting. A very good one, and possibly not finished. He scanned the area, cups of dirty water and brushes with red stuff in the bristles sat scattered about. But the chair in front of the easel was still empty.

The door was open though, and now that he listened he could hear faint footsteps. His worry dissipated and that space was filled with more wonder at the work sitting in front of him.

The paint was still wet in some places, making the mouth look even more hungry. He could gather pretty quickly what it was, and his brain replayed the words you'd told him the other day.

I don't think it was a mutant. I think it was . .

"Hey, Blue."

He turned quickly, seeing you leaned up against the sharp jut of the wall with a takeout box in one hand and a fork pointed at him in the other. "Who said you could sneak peek my piece?"

You were grinning, only teasing, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. He backed away, rubbing his neck.

"Sorry," he said as you laughed, taking your seat back. "It's really amazing, though. It pulled me in."

"Yeah?" Your eyes softened, and you put your food down for a moment to stare into the abyss. "Thank you."

He sat across from you, on the corner of your bed. It was quiet for a minute, and he took the time to observe you like you were your own artwork. There was dried paint on your hands and your hair was pulled back. Your tired eyes stared headlong into the stuff of your nightmares, and in that moment he watched you with admiration. How brave would he be to invite his fears into his own room to stare back at him?

"It's not too muddy or anything?"

You spoke suddenly, catching him off guard. How was he supposed to critique something so . . attached?

"No, no it's great. Um . ."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smiled, already knowing where he was going. "It's not good to keep stuff like this bottled up," you tapped to your head briefly. "This is my meditation."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," he smiled too, nodding in understanding. His eyes kept going back, like he was being sucked in. "It's a like a black hole . ."

You watched him lovingly for a moment as he studied your work, and he caught your eyes, shaking his hand.

"In a good way."

The grin spread across your face like wildfire, and you took your food back in your hands.

"Your artist is showing, Renaissance Man," you teased, gesturing vaguely to him. He laughed a little, shaking his head when you offered him some of your food.

"I think my only artistic quality is my name."

"Nuh-uh," you said, swallowing.

"Proof?"

You giggled, covering your mouth. You willed yourself to speak your truth, even if it was blatant flirtation. Something in the air tonight was making you manic; starting a huge painting of a nightmare on a whim, ordering takeout that you didn't need but food keeps good company on nights like this one. Leo, even better.

"This is probably my artist showing," you smiled, digging into your rice, "but the way you carry yourself is artistic to me."

He was quiet, you'd expected him to be, and you chanced a glance in his direction. His mouth was slightly agape and you wondered if you made the right decision.

"How?"

He didn't know how to make any other words, his brain couldn't handle this. His heart was doing its best to keep up. He needed to know.

You made another decision, setting your food down again and rising from your seat to dig through your bag. He watched in silence, and when you came back you were holding a small, cloth bound book.

His gift; the sketchbook he made you for your birthday.

He looked up at you, eyes following you back to your seat.

"You can look," you nodded, "if you want."

His eyes drifted back, and you leaned in your chair watching him open the front cover, head in your arms to perhaps hide your growing blush.

Leo could hardly contain his own. He stared down at a drawing of himself, cleaning one of his katanas. A collection of lines, a moment, an observation, captured. A reflection of himself he'd never seen before. Yes, that was him.

In your hand.

"There's more," you whispered.

He took a breath, flipping to the next page, flipping the paper he binded. More moments splayed across the soft cream color he picked out just for you, of him just merely existing. Watching TV, practicing katas, making tea, sleeping. You turned his mundanity into something so far away that he thought he could never reach it; something beautiful. Pages after pages of it.

There's a strange intimacy that you feel when you look at drawings of yourself, made by someone you love, in a book you made just for them because every night you think about if they might love you, too.

"Oh, Blue," you said sweetly, smiling and wiping his cheeks. He immediately felt embarrassed, sniffling and rubbing his own eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," you continued. He breathed in, closing the book and handing it back to you.

"Thank you."

You sighed, getting up to sit next to him on your bed and leaving the book in your place.

"I should be thanking you," you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "I like drawing you. It's calming."

He looked again at the large canvas across from him, but he wasn't processing any of it. Flashes of blue ink and graphite still clouded his vision, and you felt so warm against him.

"I think you're still the artist," he said. "Not me."

You sat upright and met his eyes, and no matter how hard you tried you felt you may never capture the real magic of them on paper.

"Oh, muse," you smiled, taking your hoodie sleeve and gently drying his face. "We're a team, remember? The artist is only as good as their inspiration. You can't have one without the other."

Muse. His face went hot at the word.

"  . . How often do you see him?"

"Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me."

"How extraordinary! I thought you would never care for anything but your art."

"He is all my art to me now . ."

You Don’t Know Me

2012 TMNT x platonic!Reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N </3, Leo wants his best friend back, angst lol

The first sign something was wrong was the alarm. It echoed down the empty streets, bouncing between buildings in sharp metallic screams. Donnie’s tablet lit up with a flashing notification.

“Uh… guys?” he said slowly.

Raph glanced over from sharpening a sai. “What.”

Donnie turned the screen around.

“Robbery in progress. Electronics store on 8th.”

Mikey perked up instantly. “Oh sweet, crime!”

Leo was already standing. “Gear up.”

she’s like the prime example Donnie can pull better than having April. So like his bros are deadass like “Donnie. There’s a PRETTY girl who’s possibly— not trynna be mean, better than April for you.”

Authors note: This is a really cute idea, and I hope I did it justice!

Blind As A Turtle

Pairings: Donnie2012 x Pretty!reader

Warnings: brothers being brothers, obliviousness, fluff, kissing, slightly suggestive(?)

Wordcount: 5.3k

The lair was quieter than usual when you arrived, the kind of hush that settled after a long patrol when everyone was too bruised or too tired to keep bickering.

You really hoped now wasn't a bad time to swing by, but it was too late to retreat or sneak off; Mikey had already spotted you and was waving at you with a cheesy grin.

Mikey still called you “Angelcakes” unironically. While you used to think he was mocking you, you'd come to realise it was simply just a term of endearment if a little flirty, but you ignored that part.

He himself was sprawled across the couch, now back to playing some obnoxiously bright handheld game.

You saw that April was over on the tyre swing, rocking slowly and reading some faded comic book.

Raph was boxing in the corner. You could hear the echoing thuds of the bag being hit with far too much force.

Leo was said to be in his room doing that whole 'meditate and look mysteriously tortured' thing he did when he wanted everyone to leave him alone(April's words, not yours).

That left Donnie.

Now, the real reason you had ventured down was to ideally hang out with him, but the purple-clad turtle was nowhere to be seen.

Tonight you’d brought him coffee (black, two sugars, just how he liked it) .

You’d also brought a bag of those stupidly expensive sour gummy worms he pretended not to like but always ate half the bag when he thought no one was looking.

You didn't want to come off as desperate if you could help it.

You weren't.

You definitely weren't.

What's wrong with wanting to hang out with a trusted friend? Right?

After all, he was the reason you were still alive. You think.

You had just been on the way home from a project that ran overtime at school. You really hadn't meant to go down the stereotypical dark alley, but it was the quickest way to your house and it was getting late.

Obviously, you had been cornered imideatly. A teen girl alone at night? Well, you might as well have already signed your will.

But,no joke, it felt like the literal second you stepped foot into the space a group of men had appeared.

Seriously, what is up with that?!

You had panicked and backed yourself into a corner embarrassingly fast ready to be robbed, stabbed or worse.

Just when you had thought it was over, that the last notable thing you had done was manage to throw a scrunched up ball of paper into a bin without missing, a miracle happened.

Or, more correctly speaking, a 6-foot, purple loving mutant turtle type miracle had happened.

Since then, you seem to have found yourself infatuated with him.

You didn't really see the problem with him being a mutant, being honest with yourself, most of the boys in your school could probably be described the same way.

On the topic of Donnie, well, the absence of him, you decided to find the turtle yourself.

He was most likely in his 'lab', and you were confident you could remember the way without getting lost this time.

Carefully adjusting your grip to more comfortably hold the coffee and bag, you set off down the hallway, ignoring the kissy sounds Mickey had made as you went.

Your face was definitely flushed, and you prayed the poor lighting wouldn't make it too obvious.

You eventually found it and let yourself in, gently so as not to startle him. You placed the bag and coffee on the other end of the desk he was currently at so that he wouldn't knock it over with his elbow - not that he seemed to notice.

He had glanced up once when you passed him but had promptly returned back to whatever he was working on.

He hadn't looked up since.

You leaned against the edge of his workbench, arms crossed under your chest, watching him hunched over some half-assembled gadget that looked like it had been salvaged from a crashed UFO and a broken toaster.

His goggles were pushed up into his bandana, purple mask tails dangling against the back of his neck, and there was a tiny smudge of grease on the bridge of his snout that he hadn’t noticed yet.

He was adorable when he was this focused.

Hell, he was adorable all the time, but especially like this: completely oblivious to how devastatingly cute he looked when his brain was running at a thousand miles an hour.

Hey, Don?” you called softly.

He didn’t look up. “Mm?”

“I brought you something.” You gestured to the small paper bag. “Figured you’ve been living on energy drinks and spite for the past thirty-six hours.”

That got his attention. His head jerked up so fast his goggles slid down his beak. “You… brought me something?”

“Hm?”

His soldering iron paused mid-air.

“One second. I almost got the feedback loop stabilized. If I don’t get this right, the whole thing’s gonna overheat and probably explode in my face. Again.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Again?”

“Last week’s prototype is still stuck to the ceiling in the garage.” He gestured vaguely upward without looking.

“Raph keeps using it for target practice.”

You laughed- quiet and warm- and leaned a little closer, letting your perfume (the vanilla-amber one you knew he secretly liked because he always inhaled just a fraction deeper when you walked past) drift toward him.

He finally glanced up.

And froze.

For one glorious heartbeat his dark eyes went wide behind his glasses, pupils blowing just enough that you knew he saw you.

Really saw you.

The way your hair sat perfectly, the soft gloss on your lips, the way your sweater slipped off one shoulder to show the delicate strap of your tank top underneath.

You were wearing the necklace he’d made you: a tiny, hand-soldered circuit pendant that actually lit up when you pressed the hidden button.

He’d given it to you “just because it seemed like your aesthetic,” he’d mumbled, ears practically fluorescent.

You tilted your head, letting a slow, knowing smile curl your mouth. “You okay there, genius?”

He blinked rapidly. “Y-yeah. Fine. Great. Perfect. Why wouldn’t I be?” He cleared his throat so hard it sounded painful. “Did you… need something? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did Mikey prank you again? I swear if he put glitter in your shampoo one more time—”

You reached out and gently touched two fingers to the back of his hand—the one not holding the soldering iron.

He went statue-still.

“I’m fine,” you murmured. “I just missed you. You’ve been working since I got here.”

“Oh.” His voice cracked. Actually cracked. “I—um. Yeah. Sorry. There’s just… this thing. It’s important. April said—”

You felt the tiniest flicker of annoyance at her name, but you swallowed it.

April was great.

April was your friend.

April also had Casey wrapped around her finger and didn’t look at Donnie the way you did - like you wanted to climb him like a tree and live there forever.

“April can wait five minutes,” you said, voice dropping into that low register you knew made his brain short-circuit.

Now, you weren't the best flirt, and you were a bit rusty, but you really hoped you weren't coming off as a massive, humongous idiot.

You'd been trying to flirt for weeks - months even - and nothing had worked.

It was all answered with a 'mhm' , 'that's nice' or 'you too' if he was feeling occasionally brave.

You managed to steer the conversation back away from April and started talking about the contence of the bag- how you went to that specific shop all the way in Chinatown as he 'didn't like' the crappy store-brought ones.

He stared at the bag like it might bite him. “You went all the way to Chinatown? Jee, thanks.”

“I was already out getting new spray paint for Mikey’s next ‘masterpiece’ on the east tunnel wall. It wasn’t out of my way.”

Total lie. It was six subway stops out of your way.

Donnie finally took the bag, fingers brushing yours for less than a heartbeat. You felt the electricity of it all the way down your spine.

He did not appear to notice.

“Thank you,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “That’s… really considerate.”

You leaned your hip against the edge of his workbench, close enough that your shadow loomed over him. “You’re welcome. Also, you’ve got grease on your face.”

He blinked. “I do?”

“Right here.” You reached up without thinking and swiped your thumb gently across his cheekbone.

Time stopped.

His entire body locked up like someone had yanked his plug. Wide amber eyes stared straight ahead, pupils blown so large the gold was only a thin ring.

You felt the heat radiating off his skin, the faint tremor in his jaw. For one glorious second, you thought maybe—maybe— he finally understood.

Then he jerked backward so violently he almost knocked over a beaker of glowing blue liquid.

“I—uh—thanks!” he yelped, voice cracking on the last syllable like he was fourteen again. “I should sanitize the workbench—biohazard protocols—yes.”

You dropped your hand, smile faltering only a fraction. “Right. Of course.”

He practically sprinted to the sink.

Only when he came back did you try again.

You slid your hand up to his wrist, thumb brushing over the skin where his pulse was suddenly racing like he’d sprinted across the city.

“You should slow down, Don. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept. And-” you leaned in until your lips were maybe three inches from his ear “-you’ve been working for much too long.”

He sucked in a breath so sharp you felt it against your cheek.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. They were huge. Panicked. Adoring. A little bit terrified.

Donnie made a noise that might have been a word in any known language but mostly sounded like a dying modem.

You grinned.

“You’re so pretty when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“I—wh—you—what?” He jerked back, nearly knocking over the coffee. “I’m not—I mean—you’re the one who’s—your face is—your everything is—” He gestured wildly at you like you were a particularly complicated equation he couldn’t solve. “You’re objectively, statistically, aesthetically… perfect. Like, on a molecular level. Your symmetry is within the golden ratio. Your-”

He stopped and looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

You laughed quietly and stepped closer.

This was it. You were sure of it.

This was the moment it would all happen.

But, of course, you were wrong as just then Mikey came skidding to a stop in the doorway to shout out, "HURRYUPWEAREALLWATCHINGAMOVIEANDYOUGUYSGOTTACOMETOO!"

You had Donnie pulled away instantly.

Mickey gave you a knowing smirk before pulling you both by the hands towards the living space, ignoring Donnie's irritated complaints.

The lair's living area was already buzzing with pre-movie chaos by the time Mikey had managed to drag both of you into the room.

The massive flat-screen (salvaged and upgraded by Donnie after one too many 'accidental' sai throws cracked the old one) flickered to life with the opening credits of some over-the-top kaiju flick Mikey had been hyping for days.

Popcorn kernels littered the floor like confetti from a previous war zone, and the air smelled faintly of butter and burnt cheese from Mikey's 'gourmet' topping experiment.

Leo was already seated in his usual spot: the centre of the floor, legs crossed, sitting up straight as if it had been drilled into him. He was trying to look like he wasn't secretly excited about watching giant monster fights as if that wasn't similar to his everyday life.

April was sat on the chair behind him, looking more focused on the homework paper she had set in front of her rather than the commotion.

Raph slouched on the far end, arms crossed, pretending the whole thing was a waste of time but clearly wanted to watch it as he kept shouting at you and Donnie to "just sit down already".

Speaking of Donnie... he was still hovering near the doorway to his lab, seemingly unwilling to watch.

You swallowed the crushing thought that maybe you had pushed too hard earlier and offered him your hand gesturing to one of the beaten up couches on the side.

His shoulders slumped in apparent defeat and he took your hand, letting you lead him and pull him down to sit next to you.

You were slightly disheartened when he scooted a few inches away; he was muttering something about not wanting to accidently poke you with his shell, although you knew he was too careful for that and even if he did you wouldn't have minded.

It was then that Mikey again interrupted the silence but atleast this time you were greatful for it.

"Alright, dudes and dudettes! Movie time! Positions! Popcorn distribution! No hogging the good side of the couch."

He darted around like a green blur, shoving pillows into strategic piles and flinging blankets like he was fortifying a bunker.

Mikey then turned on the tv and sat down with a bounce next to Raph, who punched the younger turtle in the arm for getting too close.

The beginning of the movie was uneventful to say the least.

All the turtle brothers were in different states of investment and April was still glued to whatever last minuet project she had got herself stuck with.

You had taken to scooting a little closer to Donnie and felt a great breath of relief when he didn't tense up and instead seemed to subconsciously relax even if it was only a little.

The loud shouting echoed in the background, and you were trying not to look too obvious in the number of times you glanced sideways at him. Although, you caught him staring at you too unless it was some unspoken ninja ability you hadn't heard of.

This went on until about halfway through the movie when April spoke up.

She groaned in annoyance and explained she had to go topside to finish her project at home and hopefully find Casey to see if had had completed his half- you doubted he did.

The boys said a variety of goodbyes as she left and you took the opportunity for a bathroom break.

You excused yourself and practically speed walked away, finding the bathroom and locking yourself in.

Truth was, you just needed a minute to breathe.

Being around Donnie all evening had your nerves singing like live wires- every accidental brush of his arm, every time he adjusted his goggles and glanced your way like he was solving a particularly vexing equation.

You splashed cold water on your face, stared at your reflection (flushed cheeks, lips still glossy from the cherry ChapStick you'd reapplied earlier), and whispered to yourself, "Get it together. He's a genius mutant turtle. You're...you. Come on, you got this."

Little did you know, while you were giving yourself this little pep-talk the turtle brothers were giving Donnie one too.

He had tried to sneak off back to his lab in the time you were gone, but Mikey had caught him before he managed to leave the room.

Mikey skidded to a halt in front of Donnie, grabbed him by the wrist, and yanked with surprising strength.

"Come on, Donnieeee." He whined. "No more science tonight! You're watching the giant lizard fight the giant robot with us. "

Donnie stumbled forward a step, nearly dropping a tablet that had come from God knows where. "Mikey, I really should calibrate the—"

"Nope! Denied! You're sitting your purple-banded butt down right now." Mikey dragged him toward the couch like a reluctant puppy.

Donnie's long legs made it look almost comical, his shell scraped lightly against the concrete as he tried to plant his feet.

Leo glanced up from the remote, one brow ridge arched. "He's right, Don. You've been in the lab for sixteen hours straight. Sit. Relax. Or at least pretend to."

Raph snorted, kicking his feet up on the coffee table (a repurposed Kraang crate). "Yeah, genius. Maybe if you stop staring at your screens for five minutes, you'll notice there's a hot girl who, for whatever reason, has been making goo-goo eyes at you for months."

Donnie froze mid-struggle.

His face flushed a deep plum shade that crept up from his neck all the way to the tips of his mask tails. "I—I don't— That's not—"

Mikey released him with a dramatic shove that landed Donnie squarely in the middle of the couch, right between Leo and Raph.

He landed with an "oof," legs splaying awkwardly.

"See?" Mikey grinned, hopping over the back of the couch to claim the spot directly in front of Donnie on the floor, cross-legged like a kid at storytime.

"Perfect spot. Now we can continue... the talk." He said the last part in a much deeper tone that sounded more stupid than intimidating.

Donnie adjusted his position, shell rubbing against the leather, trying to look anywhere but at his brothers' smirking faces. "Can we please just play the movie?"

"Nope!" A chorus of voices replied.

Donnie groaned and melted back into the couch, dragging his hands down his face in pure, brother-induced agony.

Leo reached over and clapped Donnie on the shoulder. "We're just saying... maybe stop overthinking it. She's into you. Like, really into you. And from where I'm sitting? You're into her too. You just suck at showing it."

Donnie opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again. "I... I don't want to mess it up. She's—she's incredible. And I'm... me. Mutant. Three-toed. Socially inept. Covered in grease half the time. What if she wakes up one day and realizes—"

"Just shut up already!" Raph sighed angrily. "We get it you're just as weird and gross as the rest of us, oh, boo hoo. Now, are you gonna let looks get in the way of this or what?"

"But, April said girls don't like—"

Leo cut him off.

"Now, I love April like a sister, so keeping that in mind with all due respect, who cares what April thinks? Y/n isn't April. April isn't Y/n. As Captain Ryan always says, one mans space junk is another mans space treasure. And you, in this case, are the space junk."

Donnie's face deadpanned.

"Jee thanks, bro, really feeling the love."

"That's not the point." Leo brushed him off with a wave of his hand. "You like Y/n, right"

Donnie hesitated.

"Well...yeah. What's not to like? She's pretty, she's smart, she listens to my rants without butting in, she-"

"A simple 'yes' would have done the job." Raph huffed, ignoring the pointed look Leo gave him.

Leo went back to looking at Donnie and continued.

"So, if you like her, you should just tell her how you feel. I'm sure she feels the same. In fact, I'm willing to bet my limited addition, hand signed 'Space Heroes' comic book that she does. And even if she doesn't? Well, you're still our brother and we'll love you no matter what. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

Donnie blinked at the sincereness of the brotherly speech. He was partly stunned as Leo had never shown this sort of investment in his life before unless it was mission related.

It felt... nice.

Mikey hugged him from behind, vibrating with energy.

"Do it, do it, do it!" He chanted, getting louder each time.

So loud in fact, that none of them heard you walk back in.

"Do what?" You asked, sitting back down and arching your brow. "Did I, uh, miss something?"

All the brothers tensed and three things happened at once.

Mikey threw himself at the remote to turn the movie back on, Raph was suddenly very interested in the wall, and Leo simply turned around completely and started whistling the intro to Space Heroes.

Donnie flushed and laughed way too loud in panick.

"HAHAHA. NOTHING. Nothing at all! Mikey was just uhh.... asking me to fix the light in his room. Yeah! Nothing to do with YOU!"

He covered his mouth and his brothers groaned.

"Oh geez, that sounded offensive. I didn't mean— I was simply suggesting—"

"It's okay, really." You said, shrugging, trying to hold in your laugh at his cute, undone reaction.

After a beat of silence, everyone eventually settled down again. Donnie made a sound similar to that of a deflated balloon and slumped backwards onto the couch, trying his best to look anywhere but your face.

Your beautiful, gorgeous, totally kissable— no! Bad Donnie! Don't think about that!

He shook his head as if to dispel the thought and tried to lose himself in the movie.

Donnie stayed like that for a while.

His shell was rigid, shoulders hunched in that way he got when he was overanalyzing something catastrophic.

The purple bandana tails hung limp against his neck. He hadn’t touched the popcorn bowl newly balanced on his lap via Mikey. He hadn’t even blinked at the screen in the thirty seconds you’d been watching him.

Then, by some great miracle, Donnie did something unexpected.

He cleared his throat awkwardly - praying silently that he wasn't bright red in the face for what felt like the millionth time tonight - (he was) and mumbled out a quiet question: asking if you would like to sit next to him instead of the armchair you had been heading towards.

His brothers reactions were poorly hidden despite them being literal ninjas.

Raph’s smirk was sharp enough to cut glass, Leo had a quiet knowing smile, and Mikey wore a full-on giddy beam. Then they all snapped back to the movie like they all hadn’t just been dissecting their brother’s love life five minutes earlier.

Without hesitation you dropped onto the couch right beside Donnie, closer than strictly necessary. Your thigh pressed flush against the smooth edge of his plastron; the warmth of him seeped through the thin barrier of fabric from your leggings immediately.

You tucked your legs under you sideways, shoulder slotting against his bicep like puzzle pieces that had finally figured out they belonged together.

Donnie went statue-still.

You stole a handful of popcorn from the bowl he was clutching like a lifeline and popped a kernel into your mouth, chewing slowly while the kaiju on screen let out a bone-rattling roar.

“What’d I miss?” you asked lightly, voice soft enough that it didn’t carry over the explosions.

Mikey answered without turning around.

“The army guys just tried to nuke the big lizard and it ate the missile like a Tic Tac.“

“Nice.”

You then leaned a fraction closer to Donnie, letting your hair spill forward so the ends brushed his shoulder. “You good?”

He swallowed so hard you heard it over the soundtrack. “Y-yeah. Fine. Just… absorbing the narrative structure.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Narrative structure. Right.

The movie thundered on.

Mikey whooped every time something exploded. Raph muttered insults at the human characters. Leo occasionally pointed out tactical flaws in the military’s strategy, like he was grading a field exercise.

You stayed quiet, content to exist in Donnie’s orbit, letting the heat of his body anchor you while your heartbeat tried to match the bass of the subwoofer.

Two thirds of the way through - right around the part where the female scientist (who looked suspiciously like a budget April) started explaining the game plan to the grizzled army colonel - you felt Donnie’s hand twitch under the blanket Mikey had tossed over both your laps earlier.

The fleece was ratty, purple, smelled faintly of motor oil and the lavender candle you’d left burning in his lab last week. You’d claimed the corner of it the second you sat down.

Slowly -agonizingly slowly- his pinky finger brushed the side of your hand.

You didn’t react at first. Just let it happen. Let the contact linger - almost as if he was a spooked cat. Then, deliberately, you turned your palm up.

His fingers hesitated, trembling just enough for you to feel it before they slid into yours. They were longer than human fingers, calloused too, probably from screwdrivers and soldering irons. But they were warm despite everything.

He laced them through yours like he was afraid the motion might shatter something fragile.

You squeezed once.

He exhaled once, a barely audible sound, and didn’t let go.

The rest of the movie passed in a haze of gunfire and monster screams and Mikey’s running commentary, but you barely registered any of it.

All you could focus on was the steady thump of Donnie’s pulse against your wrist, the way his thumb eventually started tracing tiny, unconscious circles over your knuckles, the way he gradually relaxed into the couch until his shell rested fully against the cushions and his shoulder pressed harder against yours.

When the credits finally rolled and Mikey leapt up to demand a sequel vote (“Obviously we’re watching the one with the robot squid next, no arguments!”), Donnie still didn’t move his hand.

Raph stood, stretching until his shell popped. “I’m out. That crap gave me a headache. Night, nerds.”

Leo rose more gracefully, clapping Donnie on the shoulder as he passed. “Good talk earlier,” he murmured, low enough that only the two of you heard it. Then louder: “Y/N, you crashing here tonight or heading topside?”

You glanced at Donnie.

His eyes were fixed on the blank screen now, pupils blown wide in the dim afterglow of the credits.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly. “If that’s cool with you guys.” you added quickly.

“Always cool,” Leo answered with a small smile.

He herded Mikey toward the kitchen something like :“C’mon, cleanup duty before Master Splinter sees the popcorn massacre. “

And just like that, the room emptied.

Silence settled. It was thick and heavy with everything unsaid.

You turned toward Donnie without letting go of his hand.

He finally looked at you.

Those amber eyes usually so sharp, so analytical were wide and unguarded. Vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

There was a new grease smudge on his cheekbone (at this point you simply assumed he somehow accumulated smudges magically) so, you reached up with your free hand and brushed it away with your thumb.

He didn’t flinch this time and instead met your gaze.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your own breathing and you felt your head swim with impulsiveness.

He seemed to lean just a fraction closer, but that was all the suggestion your brain needed. You had wanted Donatello for so long, and you wouldn't wait a moment longer, screw it. If it all went up in smoke, that was a problem for future you and future you alone.

You surged forward, squeezing your eyes shut, and pressed your lips to his.

He made a muffled squeak of surprise and fumbled to grab you as you both tipped backwards on the couch.

For a reptile, his lips were surprisingly soft, and despite him having 'no game,' he was a much better kisser than most of the boys you'd been with.

You were floating on cloud nine and couldn't believe he hadn't pulled away yet or that you had misread a signal. Everything was perfect. Donnie was perfect.

But, you both eventually broke apart.

He was panting heavily and was redder than he had ever been since you'd met him. His breathing was irregular pants and you couldn't help but giggle at his state of utter malfunction.

His eyes softened at the sound and he gave you a nervous smile.

“I didn't do that wrong, did I?” He murmured shyly.

You grinned, shaking your head and giving him another quick kiss on the snout, making him fire red again.

His gaze dropped to your joined hands and his thumb resumed its slow circles.

“I don’t… know how to do this.” He confessed.

“Any of this. Relationships. Feelings. I run probabilities. I calculate risk. I build machines because they’re predictable. You’re—” He stopped. Exhaled hard through his nose. “You’re the least predictable variable I’ve ever encountered, and I just...”

“Don't know what to do?” You offered, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Me neither.” You said, “But, I do know I like you. A lot. More than a lot, really, if I'm being honest. And I was...well I was hoping you liked me too?”

“I DO!” He practically shouted, grabbing your shoulders before realising his reaction and pulling back, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean, uh, yeah, I like you too."

“Real smooth,” you chuckled, and he joined in, laughing quietly and leaning back so you could scoot closer.

You both enjoyed the silence for a little longer. You rested your head on his plastron and looked up at him through your lashes.

He caught your gaze and gulped before sitting up straighter, jolting you ever so slightly.

“I… need to ask you something.”

You tilted your head, thumb brushing the top part of his shell and gestured for him to continue.

He swallowed.

His hands flexed on your waist, his fingers spreading wider, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“Will you…” He stopped. Restarted.

“I mean—would you want to… be with me? Officially? Like—dating. Or… whatever the equivalent term is when one party is a six-foot-two mutant turtle who lives in a sewer and the other is—” He gestured vaguely at you, at the whole of you, like you were some unattainable variable. “—you. Beautiful. Human. Perfect. Ridiculously out of my league.”

You laughed again, the sound vibrating between your chests.

“Donnie.” You cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to meet your eyes instead of staring at the 'fascinating' point on your shoulder. “I’ve been trying to date you ever since we met. Give or take a day or two. The second I realized I was stupidly in love with the way you ramble about quantum entanglement at 3 a.m, I was done for.”

His breath hitched. “You’re… in love with me?”

“Mhm.” You replied. “I knew you'd catch on eventually. Well, it was that, or I was gonna resort to this whole elaborate plan I had as backup.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You confirmed, smiling when he shyly leaned down to kiss you again.

He was going to speak again when another voice beat him to it.

“OH MY GOD. GET A ROOM.” Raph groaned from the doorway, making both of your eyes shoot up, and you both stared, mouths open in shock.

There, in the hallway, were all Donnie's brothers all hunched over each other with their heads poking out to try get better looks at you.

Leo had just pushed Raph back out of sight and laughed nervously.

“Heyyyyy....we were just....”

Donnie got up instantly, his face a mixture of embarrassment and brotherly hate.

“Oh look! What's that?!” Leo pointed behind him, feigning shock, and Donnie, poor, gullible Donnie, turned round to see what Leo was pointing at.

The blue-clad turtle imideatly spun round and ran like hell down the corridor, presumably to a room that had a lockable door. Heavier footsteps went after him, most likely Raph also making a run for it.

That left Mikey standing alone in the corridor, also looking for this imaginary thing Leo had pointed at.

When Donnie turned back around, Mikey knew he had made a mistake because he whispered a quick “Oh, crud,” before screaming and running backwards, almost instantly bumping into a wall but he kept going.

It was a good idea, too, as Donnie was already halfway across the room, yelling threats, and his voice cracked, making him sound like a distressed bird.

As the brothers disappeared around the bend, you felt a swell of completion and content.

You now had Donnie and Donnie now had you.

Life couldn't get better than this.

I hope this fic was to your liking! Feel free to suggest something for me to write next. If you do, make your suggestion as detailed as you can if you want me to be able to flesh the idea out and make sure it's as close to what you wanted as possible.

Divider by: @uzmacchiato

herman thinks about you when he can't sleep.

tags and content: smut, gender neutral reader, masturbation, pillow fucking, fantasizing, praise, he's a whimperer c'mon now, grandma's out playing bingo, cross posted on ao3!

It's not even about style. Objectively, Starscream can make you orgasm so hard you fall into a post-sex haze. The hard part is getting on that intimate level with his stubborn ass. Gotta withstand a whole character arc before he even considers letting you near his array

Here’s my entry for @zorangezest !

( click for better quality )

Looks like someone got the last donut and a few colleagues are mad.

I’ve been absolutely dying to render starscream and this was the perfect excuse

A close up too :)