Everything blurred as he carried you through your apartment, lips never fully leaving yours. There was something desperate about the way he held you, like he’d been holding this back for too long and couldn’t anymore. Your back hit the bed softly. He hovered over you, breath ragged, shadows dancing over the sharp lines of his jaw from your bedside lamp.

He looked starved. Like he’d been dreaming of this. Of you. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he was already lowering himself between your legs, kissing down your jaw, across your neck, dragging his hands over your waist. Each touch lingered. Each kiss burned.

But then—he paused. His forehead pressed gently to yours.

“…I’ve never done this before.”

You blinked. Then breathed out, genuinely stunned. Cause he was just a pro muncher a few minutes ago?

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah. Shocking, right?”

Your eyes searched his, wide and soft. “You’re doing a hell of a job so far for someone who’s—”

“First time doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it.”

His voice dropped, almost a growl. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted it.”

Your breath caught as he slid his hand under your shirt, slow and deliberate, resting it just under your ribs—feeling your heartbeat hammering for him. You swallowed hard, the heat pooling between your thighs dizzying. “Leo…”

He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, then lower, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt like a question.

“If you want me to stop,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin, “Tell me now. Please tell me now”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was reach for him—breathless, aching—ready to teach him everything he didn’t know… while he wrecked you with everything he did.

He hovered over you, one arm braced by your head, the other still curled protectively around your waist. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer—chests pressed tight, breaths mingling like heat and smoke. He grinded into you. One slow, deep motion. Just pressure. Just friction. Nothing exposed. But holy shit.

Your entire body jolted at the sensation—the thick, heavy press of him dragging against your clothed core. There was no mistaking it. That wasn’t just big. That was mutant big.

That was Spencer’s back shelf dildo display big.

Your brain short-circuited, eyes flying wide, breath catching sharp in your throat. He saw it. Leo froze, brow furrowed, reading you like a threat on radar.

“What?” he asked lowly, a flicker of concern brushing through his voice. “Did I—?”

“I can feel you,” you breathed, stunned. “You’re… you’re so big.”

There was a beat of silence. His lips twitched into a slow, cocky smirk. You’d never seen him smile like that. It wasn’t his usual calm, noble, protector mask. It was something darker. Deeper. A spark of pride and possession lighting up his chest.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You wanna get a better feel?”

Your mouth parted, speechless. He took that as the invitation it was. He grabbed your hand—big, calloused fingers wrapping around yours—and slowly dragged it down between you. Over his chest. His stomach. The hem of his belt. Until your palm cupped all of him.

Let’s rephrase that — BARLEY cupped him.

Even through the fabric, the weight of it made your breath stutter. He was hard. Hot. Heavy. Leo leaned down, voice gravel against your ear.

“Still wanna keep going?”

The smirk lingered just a second longer before his face softened—something raw flashing behind his eyes. Then he moved. Leo pushed himself off the bed and stood. His body cast a long shadow in your dim room, muscles tense under the stretch of his gear. That broad shell rose and fell with each breath as he stared at you like you were something sacred.

Something his.

One by one, he stripped himself bare. Chest strap. Belts. Thigh holsters. Harness. Each piece hit the floor with a thunk. With every layer gone, he looked even bigger. And you? You just watched. Knees curled beneath you, heartbeat hammering like a war drum. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his cargo pants. Still staring.

He shoved the pants down and—

Holy mother of pearl.

Even before he was fully bare, the sight of his thighs alone made your breath catch—thick, corded with muscle, smeared faintly with blood and antiseptic. His cock strained hard against black briefs, the outline huge. Ridiculous. It even curved slightly from the weight of it.

“You’re staring,” he said, smirking again.

“So are you,” you whispered.

He stepped forward, knees hitting the edge of the bed. He cupped your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek like you might break.

You then started stripping. Slowly. Deliberately.

Taking your shirt off revealing your plump breast and hard perked nipples. Now just your underwear, crawling toward him with wide eyes and parted lips.

He knelt beside you, finally tugging off the last of his briefs— And there he was. All of him. Hard. Veined. Massive. And for the first time, Leo looked nervous. Like he didn’t know how the hell this was going to work, only that he needed it to.

Leo shifted on his knees, his hand wrapping around the base as he gave himself a slow stroke—testing the sensitivity, maybe trying to ground himself.

“Think it’ll fit?” he asked, voice low, almost hoarse.

You swallowed hard. “We’re about to find out.” That earned the ghost of a grin, but it faded fast—replaced by something deeper. Hungrier. He leaned in again, hand trailing down your side. Your legs already spreading to cradle his hips. You reached for him, fingers ghosting along his shell, his waist, gripping tight. His breath hitched. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock just barely nudging your folds. Even that made your thighs tense.

His hand curled around your thigh, holding you open with gentle strength. “Breathe for me.” He inched forward. Not even inside yet—just sliding his cock through your slick folds, letting you feel the weight and heat of him rubbing against your aching core. You whimpered. He shifted, guiding himself with one hand, until the thick crown pressed at your entrance.

The pressure was immediate. Wide. Relentless.

You gasped, hands flying to his arms—gripping.

“oh my god Leo—”

“I got you,” he panted, jaw clenched tight. “Just the tip. Tell me if it’s too much.” He pushed in. so painfully slow. And holy fuck. The stretch. It burned in the best way. Your walls clenched instinctively, fighting to adjust, and he groaned loud—low and wrecked.

“Shit—you’re squeezing me. Baby you’ve gotta relax”

Your head rolled back, a breathless cry slipping from your lips. He was barely in and you already felt so full.

He paused, forehead pressed to yours. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your voice came out thin. “Yes— just keep going please.”

His eyes fluttered shut like he was trying to hold back a prayer. Then, inch by inch, he eased deeper. Every second felt like eternity. The stretch was just so intense. Your body fought him, fluttering and tight, but your arousal was slick and hot and pulling him in like gravity.

“You’re doing so good,” he rasped. “You’re perfect.”

You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of it. Of him. The feeling of being filled, stuffed full by something so much bigger than you were built for. Leo kissed your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. Anywhere he could reach. “You’re takin’ me so well. I can feel every part of you.”

“Leeooooo” you cried, voice breaking. He pushed the last inch in with a deep, shuddering groan—and then he stilled, buried to the hilt. His hips pressed flush against yours, and still, you swore you could feel him in your ribs.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. “I can feel you in my stomach.”

He stayed still, giving you time. Sweat beaded at his temple. His muscles twitched with restraint.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered against your lips. “You feel too good. I can’t—” He cut himself off with a growl. “If I move right now, I’m gonna cum.”

You clenched around him deliberately, a wicked grin on your lips. “You gonna fill me up some more?.”

And that broke him. “Yeah—you want me to?” He pulled back an inch and thrust in again, slow and deep, grinding at the end. You gasped, head tipping back with a cry.

“Yes god pleaaaasaaa”

Then again. And again. The rhythm building. Gentle at first—but each stroke got heavier, deeper. The bed creaked beneath you. The air was thick with heat and ragged breath and the soft sound of skin on skin.

He groaned. Your legs locked around him, pulling him in harder, chasing the friction, the burn, the rush. Your whole body lit up, nerves singing.

“Touch yourself,” he growled suddenly. “Let me see you fall apart while I’m inside you.” Your hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast—desperate. Your moans turned high-pitched, broken, loud. “That’s it,” Leo panted, hips pistoning faster.

After a few moments you shattered. Your body locked around him, a sob tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, blinding and raw. You clenched so hard it dragged a deep, guttural snarl out of Leo’s chest—and then he was coming too.

Leo’s rhythm faltered.

“Fuck—fuck—” His hips stuttered, slamming in deep as he emptied inside you, every inch of his body trembling.

For a moment, everything was still. Just breath. Sweat. Skin. Then Leo collapsed forward, catching himself on shaking arms so he didn’t crush you—still inside, still pulsing, forehead against yours.

“…Holy shit,” he whispered, voice barely there.

You laughed—light and wrecked. “Why are you good at everything you do?”

He chuckled, and when he finally opened his eyes, they were full of something warm. Safe. Endless.

— — — —

Your body was still humming. Limbs loose and lazy, heart finally slowing from its sprint. Leo stayed close—still half over you, face buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing deep and even.

He hadn’t moved since he finished. Neither had you.

You just… laid there. Tangled and sticky and quiet. A slow bloom of warmth spreading from your chest, coasting through your limbs like honey.

His hand shifted first. A soft stroke along your waist, calloused thumb gliding in lazy circles. Then he lifted his head, eyelids heavy, lips parted like he had a million things to say but didn’t know where to start.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You smiled. “More than okay.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he smiled too—boyish, soft, still a little dazed. “Good.” He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him until your head rested on his bicep and your leg draped over his hip. You could still feel him between your thighs, the dull ache of fullness, the proof of what just happened stretching you out in the most intimate way.

Leo’s fingers traced light patterns on your back. “You were incredible,” he murmured. “Like… unreal.”

You snorted softly, face heating up. “Says the mutant ninja who just made me see god.”

He huffed a little laugh and kissed your forehead. A beat passed. Then you tilted your head, squinting at him playfully.

“Okay but—seriously. Be honest with me…”

He blinked, a little wary. “About what?”

You raised a brow. “How much porn did you watch?” You swear his whole face flushed a deeper green. “What—why?”

You gave him a look. “Because what was that down there? That was not rookie behavior. I mean… Leo. You munched on me and almost made me finish FAST.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Okay, okay… maybe when I was younger I got curious, alright?”

You snorted. “Younger?”

“And maybe a bit during my teenage years,” he muttered. “But it’s not like I was taking notes or anything—I just… remembered some stuff.”

You laughed into his chest, hiding your face as he pretended to be scandalized. He went on, like he couldn’t stop digging himself deeper. “I’m nothing compared to Mikey or Raph though, seriously. Those two—”

“EW—STOP,” you whined, smacking his chest. “Don’t say that to me! They’re like my brothers now!”

He was cracking up now. “I’m just saying—”

“La la la la—muting you—don’t ruin this for me,” you mumbled, clapping your hands over your ears.

He grinned and kissed your shoulder. “Too late. Now every time you look at them, you’ll think about how—”

“LEONARDO!” He wheezed, laughing hard now, eyes bright and stupidly proud of himself. Eventually, your laughter faded back into soft, sleepy silence, the haze wrapping around you again. You buried your face against his neck, sighing deeply.

“I really like you,” you whispered.

His arm tightened around you, breath catching for a second like he wasn’t expecting it.

Then, soft and sure, he murmured:

“I really like you too.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The city was loud tonight.

Car horns. Sirens. A guy yelling into a busted phone across from some bar on 9th. I could hear everything—but all I could really feel was her.

Still. Even now.

Her lips pressed against mine. Her thighs warm around my waist. The way her hands trembled when she told me everything—like she was cracking open just to show me the mess inside. And I… I just left.

She deserved more than that. More than me.

I jumped to the next rooftop a little harder than I should’ve. The wind cut across my shoulders, but it did nothing to cool the burn in my chest.

I meet my my brothers on rooftop near the robbery getting a run down from donnie on what’s happening.

“Yo, Leo, you good?” Mikey’s voice chirped in, too casual, too soft for the storm inside me.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’re breathing all loud and—”

“I said I’m fine!” I snapped.

The silence after that was heavy. Even Raph didn’t make a joke. I felt bad for snapping but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize.

I gritted my teeth and clenched the handle of my katanas so tight my knuckles popped. “Just… stay on the mission.” I couldn’t do this tonight. Couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t even breathe.

— — — —

After an hour we got back to the lair. The mission was a total shit show.

The cherry right on fucking top of my night.

I went straight to my room avoiding lashing out more on my brothers. I sat cross-legged on the floor, jaw tight, sweat clinging to my skin. One of my blades rested in my lap, and the handheld sharpener glided over it with rhythmic, controlled strokes.

Scrape. Drag. Sharpen.

Scrape. Drag. Sharpen.

Focus. Discipline. Control.

But my mind wouldn’t shut up. Her face haunted me. Those red-rimmed eyes. Her voice cracking when she told me she liked me so much it hurt. That she wanted me. All of me.

She didn’t even realize how badly I already belonged to her. That kiss… That was my first. Twenty-five years old and that was my first real kiss. My first real taste of what it felt like to be wanted—not feared. Not followed. Not needed for protection or leadership or strategy. Wanted. And God, it was everything. Messy. Desperate. Pure fire.

She kissed me like she was drowning. And I kissed her back like I didn’t care if I never came up for air. But she wasn’t in the right headspace. I said and did all the things I thought were right.

Then why the hell do I feel like the villain?

Why am I sitting here rock hard, burning with want like some selfish bastard, sharpening a blade just to keep from losing my grip completely?

I shifted on the floor, jaw twitching as I looked down.

Fuck.

I was painfully hard. Again. And this time it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was everything. All of it. The late-night talks. The way she looked at me like I was more than this—more than a freak hiding in the dark. The way she touched me without flinching. Trusted me. Wanted me. And all I could think about was how many times I’ve stood under those steaming pipes in the lair showers, jerking off like some horny pervert, picturing her soft thighs wrapping around my waist. Imagining her moaning my name. Imagining what it’d feel like to actually have her. Her nails raking down my shell.

Her whispering “please don’t stop.”

I gripped my blade tighter and ran the sharpener across the edge again, this time too fast, too rough. The metal shrieked. I dropped it with a curse She deserved better than this. She deserved normal. Soft hands and warm beds and men who walked around in the daylight. Not someone who sharpened katanas in the dark and lived under New York in a sewer full of ghosts and violence.

She deserved safety. Not me. But I was so fucking selfish. Because I wanted her anyway. More than I wanted anything else in this entire cursed world.

— — — —

I didn’t plan to go back. I planned to keep my distance let her forget these feelings because that’s what was best.

That’s what I was thinking before I realized I was moving halfway through the tunnels. Before I realized I needed her. To see her, Check on her. I needed to feel her again. One more time. One more second.

I didn’t tell my brothers. Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t even put the katanas away properly—just dropped it, unfinished, on the corner of my bed.

The air up top was thick. Muggy. The kind of New York spring night that pressed on your skin like wet cement. Her apartment was lit from the inside—just the small lamp in the corner casting a warm amber glow through the blinds.

I didn’t knock. Didn’t want to scare her either. I gave one quiet tap to the fire escape window.

She came into view a few seconds later, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, bare legs peeking out beneath it. She blinked when she saw me—eyes a little puffy, face tired—but then, without saying a word, she unlocked the latch and slid the window open. I climbed in slow, my frame ducking low through the narrow opening.

She didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there.

Wrapped in that blanket like she was holding herself together.

I looked at her. Really looked at her. And everything in me snapped. I grabbed her before I even thought about it, hands sliding beneath her thighs, lifting her against my chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. She gasped—but it wasn’t fear. It was something else. Something soft and surprised and just for me.

And then I kissed her. Not like earlier. Not hesitant. Not scared. This time, I kissed her like I meant it.

Like I knew.

Her lips parted, warm and pliant, tasting like cinnamon tea and maybe tears and maybe the last good thing I’ll ever get in this life. My hands tightened around her legs, dragging her closer, anchoring her to me so she couldn’t drift off into the better world I told myself she deserved.

Her fingers found the edge of my shell, curled into it.

She kissed me back. Harder. Deeper. Like she needed me too. Like she was just as selfish as I was.

I backed her toward the couch, still holding her, blanket slipping down her shoulders as she clung to me. When I finally broke the kiss, I rested my forehead against hers, chest heaving, voice low.

“I tried to tell myself it was nothing. That you needed comfort. That it was just heat of the moment.” I shook my head slowly, brushing my nose against hers. “But that was bullshit. That was me lying to myself.”

She didn’t answer. Silence. Her eyes searched mine like she was waiting for the catch, waiting for me to say I was leaving again. But I wasn’t leaving this time. I couldn’t.

I looked down at her, voice rough. “You kiss me like I’m not a mutant. Like I’m not a freak hiding in the dark. You kiss me like you see me.”

Her hand pressed against my chest. Over my heart.

“I do see you because you’ve shown me your more than what you appear to be and i’m not afraid of you Leonardo, not then and not now” she whispered.

I shut my eyes for half a second, pulling a shaky breath through my nose. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to protect her. Keep her away from danger. Danger to my restraint. To my missions and to protect her normal human life—And right now? I didn’t give a damn.

“I’ve been jerking off to the memory of your voice,” I muttered into her ear, my voice hoarse. “In the showers. In the dark. Every time I close my eyes, I see you and i buried my feelings cause I knew it was wrong.”

She gasped—and I felt her thighs clench against my hips. “I touch myself thinking about you too”

Fuck. I needed to hear that. I kissed her again. “I shouldn’t be here,” I said. “You deserve normal. Someone who takes you out to dinner. Who walks beside you in the sun.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, breathless.

“Because I can’t stay away anymore.” I kissed her harder, needier, before pulling back just enough to speak. “Because I’m selfish. I need you—so badly it hurts. I’ve always liked you but I knew better than to mess with you in anyway but I’m addicted to you like a drug. Your personality, Your laugh, your voice, your soft skin… the way you look underneath me when we train. The way you treat me—and my family—like we’re not different at all.”

I set her down on the couch, slowly, like she was made of glass—but my hands didn’t leave her body. They ran up her thighs, her waist, her ribs. She stared up at me, eyes wide and blown with heat. She opened her mouth to speak, but all I could do was shake my head once. The second her back hit the couch, I dropped to my knees.

I didn’t ask. Didn’t even give her a chance to breathe.

I pulled the blanket off her shoulders, exposing her skin to the heat still rising from my chest. Her thighs were bare, parted just enough for me to settle in between, my hands gripping behind her knees and dragging her to the edge like I’d done this a hundred times before in my head.

Because I had. I had dreamed about this. Fantasized. Obsessively.

She gasped when my mouth pressed hot and open against the thin fabric of her panties, already damp.

I groaned against her core, deep and low. “Fuck…”

She was so soft. So warm. And her hips arched right into me, like she couldn’t help it. I hooked my fingers onto her underwear and pulled to the side slowly, watching her squirm. I wanted to take my time.

But I couldn’t.

The second she was bare, I dove in—tongue flat and firm, licking a stripe up her slit before wrapping my lips around her clit and sucking, hard.

She cried out. God, the sound she made. It rattled something loose in my chest. Her fingers flew into my bandana tails, tugging, twisting.

I groaned again and buried my face deeper, licking through her folds, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue until her thighs shook against the side of my head.

Her legs started to close—overwhelmed. I pushed them right back open.

“Leo I can’t—“

“You’re a big girl you can take it.” I growled against her.

She whimpered. And I went in. Tongue-fucking her, tasting her, getting lost in the slick heat of her. My fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her while her body started to roll—desperate, grinding against my face.

“You’re perfect,” I rasped against her, She moaned loud and long, hands trembling where they gripped my shoulders. But right as I pulled back to suck again, she reached down, pushing weakly at my forehead.

“I-I’m gonna—” she whimpered. “It’s too much…”

I looked up at her, panting, lips shiny with her slick. My cock was throbbing so hard it felt like a punishment—like karma for every cold shower I’d ever taken thinking about her. God, I was gonna cream my fucking belt.

Jesus Christ, I’m such a virgin.

Her chest was rising fast. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. I wiped my mouth slowly with the back of my hand, then stood—towering over her on the couch.

My voice was low. “What do you want me to do?”

She was silent. Wide-eyed. I was the one always telling her what to do.

“Use your words please,” I said, bending slightly, gripping her chin between two fingers. It was her turn to tell me what to do.

Her breath hitched. “I want to have sex with you,” she whispered. “Please I want you to fuck me.”

There’s my answer.

I growled, scooping her up without another word—one arm under her thighs, the other around her back—and carried her to the bedroom.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You should be ashamed. But you’re not.

Touching yourself had helped. At first. It quieted your head. Grounded you in something warm and alive. And every time you came, alone on your floor or buried in your sheets, it wasn’t really about your body. It was about him. His voice. The way he moved. The way he looked at you when you messed up. Like he saw through every defensive wall and still didn’t pull away. But now? Now it was starting to feel like a drug.

Like a fever dream you kept relapsing into, chasing relief that never lasted longer than a few minutes. You’d lay there, breathless and aching, and somehow a little less emptier than before. Still… you kept doing it. Because at least it felt like something that calmed the storm in your head.

— — — —

The late shift was dragging like molasses.

It was the kind of slow that made you hyper-aware of the shitty hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, and the constant clinking of forks against porcelain. You were wiping down a sticky table when you noticed him—seated in the far corner booth.

He hadn’t ordered anything except a black coffee, which he nursed with both hands like it was his lifeline. He’d been there almost an hour.

You could feel his eyes on you. Not the casual glance kind, either. The lingering, burning, invasive kind that made your stomach twist. You kept catching him looking—his eyes hollow, his lips curled into something that might’ve been a smile if it wasn’t so… wrong.

But your mind couldn’t stop playing tricks. Couldn’t stop imagining that night. Why did this man look so familiar— is it him? No. it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t be out here in broad daylight…right? You blinked. Realized your fingers were curled so tightly around the rag that your knuckles were white.

“Girl.”

You jumped a little, glancing up to see Nicole leaning across the counter. Chewing gum, smudged eyeliner, bleach blonde roots. She raised a thin brow. “You alright? You look like you just saw a damn ghost.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired.”

Nicole snorted. “All you are is tired. You know what tired is? Tired is what you say when your man kept you up all night rockin’ your world.” She squinted. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

You laughed, but it felt brittle. “I don’t have a man.”

She eyed you. “That’s the damn problem. You need some vitamin D and I’m not talking about some sunshine sweetheart” she laughed at her own words while your face deadpanned. You turned back to the table, scrubbing harder than necessary. The man was still watching you.

Nicole didn’t miss it. She leaned in closer, voice low. “If that freak don’t order somethin’ soon, I’m throwin’ his mug out the goddamn window.”

You shot her a grateful look. “Thanks.”

“Mmhm.” She popped her gum. “Creeps like that are why I keep mace in my bra.”

“Jesus christ Nicole” You laughed it off, trying to push down the chill that skated along your spine.

But even after Nicole sauntered off, that pit in your stomach didn’t ease. It wasn’t just the guy in the corner. It was everything. Work. Your body. The city. The noise. The silence. The fact that nothing felt safe unless you were with Leo.

By some miracle, your manager let you clock out earlier than you expected. You didn’t say goodbye to him as you peeled off your apron and shoved it in your tote. Just kept your eyes down and left out the back. The air outside was crisp, the city buzzing in that moody, nighttime way. But instead of going straight home, your steps veered toward the direction of the lair. You needed to burn some of that unease off—and Leo had offered to go through more training tonight anyway.

— — — —

You hadn’t gone back since that night.

Since the tears in the shower. Since your hands on your body felt more like sedatives than anything soft or intimate. Since your thoughts had been louder than any scream. It’d been over a week.

You kept thinking they’d reach out. That Donnie would hack something random again or Mikey would send some half-coherent meme at 2 a.m. But there’d been nothing. You knew they were giving you space. Maybe Leo had told them to. Maybe that was his way of protecting you. But God, it felt like you’d been locked out of the only place that ever felt like home.

So you went. You followed the usual path: down the alley, into the half-busted service entrance, through the dark tunnels until the familiar low hum of electricity told you were close. It smelled like metal, leather, something faintly fried. It smelled like them.

You hesitated at the last turn, smoothing down your jacket. Breathing through the nerves. You weren’t sure why you were nervous—maybe because your head had been so all over the place lately. Maybe because Leo’s voice still lingered in your fantasies. Maybe because you weren’t sure if you could pretend everything was fine. You stepped inside.

Mikey spotted you first. “YOOOO, SUNSHINE’S BACK!” He damn near vaulted over the back of the couch, wrapping you in a hug that knocked the wind out of you. You laughed for real for the first time in days. “Hi, Mikey.”

“You’ve been GHOSTIN’ us!” he scolded, but the smile never left his face. “I almost made Donnie go full stalker mode again.” You peeked past him, eyes scanning for one face. He was near the weapons rack, kneeling and reorganizing blades. His eyes met yours, and something in your stomach flipped.

The others filtered around you with greetings and half-jokes and chaotic chatter, but Leo didn’t come closer. Not yet. Just that look. Just the almost-smile he gave when something tugged at his chest and he didn’t know how to name it.

Eventually, Mikey got distracted with video games, Raph wandered off with a muttered “good to see you,” and Donnie mumbled something about calibrating pressure valves.

And then it was just you and Leo.

“I was wondering when we’d see you again,” he said, tilting his head slightly.

You swallowed. “I’ve been overwhelmed recently.”

He nodded. “I figured.”

You looked at the floor. “Did you tell them not to reach out?”

A pause. “No. I didn’t have to. I think they just… knew when you last left. We aren’t exactly ones to harp”

You nodded slowly, feeling exposed. Like he could see straight through the calm mask you’d practiced in the mirror.

He stepped a little closer. “You seem better now.”

“I’m trying to be.” You nodded again. “I missed this place.”

“Wanna hit the mats?” His tone was casual, but the way he watched you—it wasn’t casual at all.

“Oh…Yeah I guess we can,” you said. You followed him toward the mats, your hands shoved in your sleeves, unsure if you were more nervous about embarrassing yourself again or just being alone with him like this.

“Let’s go light today,” he said as he reached the edge of the training floor. “Ease back into it.”

You gave a wry smile. “Thank God.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You say that now…”

You huffed a laugh and stepped into position.

It started simple—just stance, footwork, balance. He circled you now and then, correcting posture, tapping your arm or shoulder. Every so often, he’d drop a little pointer, his voice low but calm.

“Don’t lock your knees like that.”

“Breathe through the turn.”

“Let your weight follow the motion.”

You nodded through most of it, only slipping up once when you misstepped during a pivot and ended up nearly tumbling into him. He caught your arm before you fell.

“Whoa—careful,” he murmured, steadying you.

You stepped back with a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should have stretched first.”

His eyes flicked down, then back to your face. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.” He smiled at that. Not big. Just enough to soften the edges of his usual sternness.

A few more rounds passed like that—quiet focus, small corrections, you gaining your rhythm again. And somewhere in the middle of it, you caught him watching you. Not evaluating your stance. Not coaching. Just watching. Your heart skipped. But you kept going.

When you messed up a combo and let out an annoyed huff, his voice came gentle.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s okay.”

You blinked up at him.

“No one’s keeping score here of when you get it wrong” he went on, tone soft.

You looked away. “I just hate feeling like I suck at everything.”

Leo tilted his head, unreadable. “You don’t.” Something about the way he said it made you feel seen. Maybe even safe. You gave a small nod, trying not to let the warmth crawl up your neck.

He stepped back again. “Let’s try that move one more time. Slower.”

You did. And this time, you got it right. When you looked at him, a little breathless and maybe too proud, he nodded.

“There you go.”

“Gonna give me a sticker?” you teased.

He smirked faintly. “Don’t tempt me.”

You laughed, and he turned away before you could catch whatever expression almost made it to his face.

The next round, he was faster. You blocked the first strike, ducked under the second, spun away — but he caught you from behind in a blink, one arm locking around your waist.

“Break the hold,” he murmured by your ear. His voice was low, and the warmth of his breath made your head swim.

Instead of breaking free, you turned in his arms. His eyes met yours — steady, deep blue, but not cold. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker there. Something that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t think. You leaned up and kissed him.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then his mouth pressed back against yours, strong and deliberate, one hand tightening at your side. The kiss was warm, heady, like he’d been holding it in as much as you had— And then he broke it.

He stepped back fast, like reality had just slammed into him. “No.” The word came sharp. “No, we can’t do this.”

Your heart was still racing. “Leo I’m sorry I—”

He cut you off, voice cool but not calm. “You’re human. I’m not. That’s not a small thing, and it’s not something we can just ignore because it feels good in the moment.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going.

“You have a whole life up there. People. A future. I can’t be a part of that. I can’t give you the things you deserve — not even the simple ones. I can’t walk beside you on a sidewalk. I can’t take you anywhere without someone looking at me like I’m a monster. And I’m not going to drag you into the kind of life I live just because w— You feel something.”

The words were measured, but the edge in them was sharp enough to cut.

Your throat felt tight. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just—”

“We’re done here,” he said, final and clipped, and this time there was something in his tone — a faint twist, like the taste of something bitter.

You bent to grab your bag, blinking hard until your vision stopped swimming. Every step toward the door felt heavy, like you were trying to carry the words he’d just dropped on you.

In the main room, Mikey and Raph were sprawled on the couch, laughing at something on Mikey’s phone.

“Hey y/n/n! C’mere, you gotta see this,” Mikey grinned.

You tried to smile, but it was thin and fragile. “Maybe next time, guys.”

Raph tilted his head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just…had a long day.” You kept walking before either of them could press further.

— — — —

You tugged on your jacket as you approached the lair’s exit tunnel, already feeling the warm hum of late spring air bleeding through the underground walls. Your limbs were heavy, still thrumming from the training session—well, more like a soft sparring match. You’d usually have one of the boys take you home— Leo especially…but tonight you needed to do this alone, mainly too embarrassed to even ask.

You kept replaying the situation— His words. His tone. He kissed you back did he not? Why was he pushing you away?? You were fighting tears. Shaky breath. You were starting to sweat.

“Calm down” you muttered trying to soothe yourself but the thoughts were so loud in your head as you walked through the night. You took the same route you knew. Sticking to familiar streets, lighted windows, cafes with flickering signs. You were a block from your apartment when you finally noticed someone was behind you. Him. The booth guy. The one with the black coffee. The same leering eyes. Same wrong smile.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t know how you knew—but you knew. Same build. Same stance. The tilt of his head was exactly how it had been that night months ago before you fell into the sewer.

He recognized you too. That grin widened.

“long time no see, huh, sweetheart?” he muttered, as he stepped closer, “Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Your legs stopped working. Just stopped. Your voice caught in your throat.

Don’t freeze.

Don’t freeze.

But you did. Why? WHY NOW? You thought to yourself— You’ve been preparing yourself for this very moment and you can’t even think to move.

Panic rushed in, flooding your limbs, filling your lungs, making your throat tight and hot and useless. You just couldn’t move.

“I’m going to fucking gut you.” then he reached for you. Grabbing you by your throat and pulling a knife out his pocket. Right as he held it close to your cheek you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes…suddenly.

CRACK.

You didn’t see it happen. It was a blur. A wall of green muscle and midnight blue, slamming the guy so hard into the brick wall that the man crumpled like paper. A sickening crunch followed—Leo’s elbow meeting his ribs with vicious precision. Again. And again. Until the only sound left was the man’s gurgled groan.

You couldn’t even speak. Your heart was pounding, and your limbs were jelly.

Leo didn’t look at you at first. He was breathing hard through his nose, shoulders tense, fists clenched like he wasn’t finished.

Then came the sound of sirens in the distance. His head snapped toward them, then to you. Without a word, he bent, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other behind your back, and lifted you with ease. Bridal style. The city blurred around you as he scaled the fire escapes, ducking behind buildings, moving so fast you barely had time to breathe

By the time he landed softly in front of your window, you were trembling. He opened it and stepped inside like he’d done it a hundred times. And once the window shut behind him, the silence hit like a slap You slid from his arms, backing toward the couch, breathing hard.

You stumbled back until your knees hit the couch. The cushions dipped as you sat, but your body still felt like it was swaying, like the ground under you hadn’t settled yet.

Leo didn’t move right away. He just stood there, the low city light from the window casting shadows over the edges of his body. His breaths were deep, measured—too measured, like he was forcing himself to slow down.

“Are you hurt?” The question was quiet, almost too calm.

You shook your head, but it felt like a lie. “No.”

His gaze didn’t soften. “Don’t tell me ‘no’ if you are.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine. I just—” You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the couch. “I thought I was past this. I thought I could handle myself if I ever saw him again or— was in a situation like that again.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap like the conversation couldn’t happen from across the room. “You froze up during our training,” he said, not unkindly, but in a way that felt like a weight landing between you. “That’s why I followed you.”

“I didn’t need a babysitter,” you shot back, but your voice was thinner than you wanted.

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone steady. “But if I hadn’t been there—” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “If I hadn’t been there, you’d be bleeding out in some alley right now or probably in some weird basement.”

You flinched at the bluntness, even though part of you knew he was right. “You think I don’t know that?” Your voice cracked, frustration laced with the sting of shame.

His eyes locked on yours, unblinking. “Then why walk home alone? You should’ve asked one of us to take you home.”

You opened your mouth, but your brain fumbled. “I wanted to prove I could.”

His gaze softened just slightly, but there was still an edge. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“It wasn’t about you— it was about me getting out of this cycle of anxiety and fear stepping outside alone.” The words came out sharper than you intended, and for a moment you thought he’d turn and leave. But instead, he stepped closer—close enough that you could see the tiny flecks of lighter blue in his eyes.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said quietly.

Something twisted in your chest, pulling your next breath uneven. “Why are you even here, Leo? An hour ago you made it pretty clear you didn’t want—”

“I never said I didn’t want to.” His voice cut through yours like a clean blade, sharp but controlled.

You froze.

“I said we can’t,” he continued, his tone low, almost reluctant. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Feels the same.”

He took one more step, and suddenly he was right in front of you. “You think I didn’t want to keep kissing you earlier?” His voice was softer now, but there was something dangerous in it—something restrained. “You think I don’t want to right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Your pulse was too loud in your ears.

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth, then back again. “But wanting it doesn’t change what I am. Or what you are. And no matter how much it—” He broke off, his hand flexing at his side. “No matter how much it kills me to say it, it’s dangerous for both of us to cross that line.”

Your breath caught. “Then why did you follow me home? Why risk being seen?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like the answer was too simple. “Because I can’t fathom something happening to you and loosing the one good thing that’s happened to me in years.”

The silence between you cracked. Before you could second-guess it, you reached up, fingers brushing his plastron as you pulled yourself to your feet. He didn’t step back. This time when you kissed him, there was no hesitation. His hand was on your waist instantly, pulling you closer. The kiss was rougher, deeper—like the restraint he’d been clinging to all night finally gave way for just a moment.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, tangled up in him, the world beyond your living room gone.

Bzzzzt.

The sound was sharp, mechanical, breaking through the moment. Leo pulled back just enough to grab the comm clipped to his shoulder. His breathing was still heavy when he pressed the button.

“Leo, we’ve got movement—two blocks from you,” Donnie’s voice crackled through. “Raph and Mikey need backup. Now.”

Leo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded like Donnie could see it. “On my way.”

When his eyes came back to yours, there was a war going on in them. “We’re not done talking about this,” he said quietly, before slipping toward the window and disappearing into the night.

You stood there, heart pounding, lips tingling, wondering what exactly he meant by not done.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

~ Little tag lists ~

@hatothespanishpigeon

@gloobix

@pheradream-15

@wantsnuggles

@yelena2002

@heretoreadcirca1980s

@uniqueoutlierblog

The matcha’s too sweet again.

You sip it anyway as you walk to work, the warm paper cup pressed to your fingers like it’ll anchor you. It doesn’t. You’d been trying to wean yourself off coffee for the sake of your anxiety. Thought matcha might be the answer. But today’s blend is watery and saccharine, like the person behind the counter dumped in half a bottle of syrup to compensate for the bitterness.

You toss the rest into a trash bin and wipe your hands on your jacket. Something about the city feels off today—too loud, too fast, too much. You swear you keep seeing someone across the street every few blocks. A man in a gray hoodie. He turns when you look. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe your brain’s playing tricks. But you pick up your pace anyway. paranoid he might be out there searching for you.

Everything’s changed. You’re not who you were. Not in bad ways—at least, not entirely. But in different ones. You don’t flinch when Leo touches your wrist anymore to guide a block. You don’t cry in your sleep every night. You know how to roll your weight through a fall, how to break a chokehold, how to recognize when someone’s following you. You also know how it feels to sit beside a Six-foot-tall turtle with ocean-blue eyes who watches you like the sky might fall if he blinks too long.

That’s new.

— — — —

The second you walk through the diner’s back door, the sound hits you like a punch—clinking plates, sizzling grease, the jukebox skipping again on some ’80s hit that sounds like it’s been tortured through a blender.

Nicole’s already elbow-deep in the ice machine, her frizzy hair tied up in a pink bandana, Marlboro Lights tucked behind her ear like a crown.

“You’re late, sugar tits,” she barks without looking up. “Where’s my matcha? You didn’t stop at the good place, did you?” You toss your apron over your head and groan. “I did. They made it gross. Like if toothpaste fucked a vanilla bean.” Nicole snorts, finally looking at you. Her eyeliner’s smudged, and one of her press-on nails is missing.

“That’s cause you’re drinkin’ witch piss. Shoulda just got coffee and suffered like the rest of us.” You give a half-hearted laugh and grab your notepad. The bell over the door jingles again.

“Hey,” she says, suddenly quieter. “You okay?”

You pause. She sees right through you every time.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Mmm. You get tired a lot these days.” She doesn’t press. Just tosses you a stick of gum and slaps your butt on the way past. “Go charm the creeps. The suits at Table Nine are already foaming.”

You regret going to Table Nine the second you make eye contact. They’re older, mid-forties maybe, in loosened ties with drinks already sweating onto the laminate. One of them winks. Another whispers something into his friend’s ear and they laugh.

“What can I get you?” you ask, pen poised.

“Smile a little, sweetheart. Don’t look so serious.”

“Yeah, ain’t that face supposed to sell the food?”

You grit your teeth. “We’re running a ‘piss off and die’ special tonight. You want that medium or well-done?”

Nicole cackles from behind the bar. They laughed awkwardly but got the hint and shut up after that, but the feeling sticks—like oil under your skin. By the time your shift ends, your shoulders are locked, your face hurts from fake smiling, and all you want is to disappear.

— — — —

You’re already off your game. You’ve been at this for 3 weeks now. Why are you fucking it up all over again?!

The air in the lair is thick and heavy, and your body feels like it’s made of wet sand. Leo stands across from you, his arms crossed while you shake out your wrists and try to reset. Your cheeks are flushed, your shirt sticking to your back, and every breath you take feels like it gets caught on something inside your chest. You’re spiraling. You know it.

“Again,” Leo says simply, stepping back into a neutral stance. You nod. Get into position.

He comes at you slow—clearly giving you time to react. You try to remember what he told you: elbow up, pivot your foot, strike the pressure point. But you fumble it again, your footing off. And when he grabs your wrist to correct your motion, something just snaps in you. You throw your free arm out with too much force—your palm landing square against his jaw with a smack.

The sound echoes. Your heart stops.

Leo doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. He just closes his eyes, exhales slowly through his nose.

“…Okay,” he says flatly. “I think we’re done for today.”

Your stomach drops.

“What? No—Leo, I’m so sorry—”

“You’re frustrated,” he says, already turning away. His voice is low. Calm. But not soft. “You’re not listening to your body. You’re in your head.”

You follow him, flustered, hands out like you’re trying to physically grab the moment and fix it. “I didn’t mean to hit you—”

“I know,” he says, turning back to you now. His face is unreadable. Calm. Way too calm. If it were Raph, he would’ve barked. If it were Mikey, he would’ve joked. If it were Donnie, he would’ve pulled the cameras to run the footage frame by frame and prove your mistake. But Leo? Leo just breathes. Deep. Measured. Controlled.

You hate that he’s so calm. You hate that you’re not.

“You could yell at me,” you mutter under your breath, folding your arms tight to your chest. “Like you do with them. I can take it.”

He’s close now. Real close. Standing right in front of you with his blue eyes steady and burning into you.

“I’m not training them right now,” he says, voice low, almost a growl. “I’m training you.”

His words send a chill down your spine. Not because they’re cold—but because they’re intimate. He sees you. He knows you. And he knows you’re not okay right now.

You swallow hard. Your voice is small. “I just—I’ve had a bad day and—”

“I know, I could tell the moment you messed up the easiest move I taught you.” He says it so quietly that it silences you instantly.

You look up at him. His gaze softens—not pity, not sympathy. Just… understanding.

“You don’t have to be okay every time you walk in here,” he says. “But when you’re not, tell me. So I can show you patience instead of expecting your precision.”

You stare at him. His voice… God. It’s like honey poured over steel. Deep, grounded, warm—but laced with something dangerous underneath. And he’s so close. If you leaned forward just a little, your forehead would touch his plastron.

He tilts his head slightly, brow furrowing. “You’re holding onto too much, you know that?”

You nod slowly. Your throat tight.

“Let it go. Not in here.” He then taps a finger to his temple. “Here.”

You exhale shakily. He doesn’t move. Just watches you for another moment—his gaze lingering on your face like he’s memorizing it.

“Go home,” he finally murmurs. “Get some rest.”

God, why couldn’t you be patient like him? You nod, turning away before your eyes give you away. Your whole body hums with something hot and needy, not just from the embarrassment, but from the way he speaks to you. The way he never raised his voice. The way he always holds the line—with you.

You gather your things, say a quiet goodbye, and step into the tunnels. And that feeling follows you all the way home.

— — — —

The city blurs around you—static faces, flickering fluorescent lights, the mechanical jolt of the tracks underneath. Your fingers curl around the pole in the subway car like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. By the time you unlock your apartment door, it’s past nine. The place is dark. Quiet. You kick your shoes off, drop your bag by the wall, and shrug off your jacket. It falls to the floor in a crumpled heap.

You should eat. But the thought of food turns your stomach. You’re too wired. Too worn out.

You head straight to the bathroom instead. The light above the mirror buzzes when you flick it on—flickering like it’s trying to decide if it wants to stay alive. You peel off your clothes slowly, your movements robotic, every muscle sore from tension more than exertion. The hot water is already steaming when you step into the shower.

At first, you just stand there. Letting the heat soak into your skin, hoping it’ll melt the ache in your chest. But it doesn’t. If anything, the warmth makes it worse—like it’s loosening something you’ve kept tightly locked up all day.

You sink down onto the shower floor.

You sit with your knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them. The water rains down, turning your hair heavy, drenching your eyelashes.

You start crying before you even realize it. Silent. Exhausted. Ugly sobs. Your body shakes from the effort of holding yourself together, even now, even here. You’ve been so good about staying strong. Pretending you’re okay. Smiling at Nicole’s bullshit jokes. Laughing when creeps at the diner comment on your ass. Showing up to train. Trying to improve.

But tonight—you can’t fake it.

You press your forehead to your knees and squeeze your eyes shut, Leo’s voice echoing in your head.

“Let it go. Not in here… Here.”

That voice… that calm, even strength. Patience. Control. Things you don’t have. Things you crave. You let your mind drift to what you’ve been craving. You try to think of the things you used to do to calm down—reading, painting, music—but they all feel like work now. Like chores. They don’t light you up anymore.

The only thing that’s made you feel anything in months… is him. His hands, firm but careful, when he corrects your stance. His breath, close against your cheek when he speaks low and quiet. The weight of his gaze on you—watching, noticing, understanding.

You know it’s wrong. You know how it sounds—thinking about him like that. He’s not even human. And yet… You exhale hard, gripping your calves tighter. You shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t touch yourself thinking about him. It’s weird. It’s gross. He’s your friend. Your protector. He doesn’t even know how bad you’ve been spiraling lately. How much you’ve let your mind go there when he’s talking. Teaching. Breathing. But even now—with your head on your knees and tears in your eyes—you can feel him.

That deep voice. That quiet intensity. That moment when he stood in front of you tonight, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, telling you it was okay. That you didn’t have to be perfect.

You let out a soft, broken sound and tilt your head back against the wall.

Your skin burns, not from the water, but from the ache crawling under it. The need. You want to feel something that isn’t panic. Something that isn’t fear.

You want to feel wanted. Held. Seen. You want to feel him. You stay like that for a long time, motionless on the floor, listening to the sound of the water as it drums around you—trying to make peace with how fucked up it is that he’s the only thing that makes you feel safe… and the only thing that turns you on enough to make you want to touch yourself at all.

Eventually, you stand.

— — — —

You towel off, skin still warm and flushed, and pull on one of your softest oversized t-shirts. Nothing underneath but your favorite pair of dark blue lace panties—just delicate enough to feel pretty. The cotton drapes over your thighs like second skin. And when you walk past your standing mirror on the way to bed, you freeze. It’s the way you’re standing—hips soft, shoulders loose, legs bare and legs open.

Your breath catches. You look at yourself for a long time. The lace clings to the curve of your hips, the dark blue nearly black against your skin. You shift your weight and the shirt rises just enough to show more. Your fingers drift across your waist.You don’t speak. But the thoughts pour in like heat behind your ribs.

I like how I look.

Your hand slides over the front of your panties, cupping yourself gently. You sigh—low, soft, already tingling.

I like how I look thinking about you.

You sink to the floor, legs folding underneath you on the rug in front of the mirror. The city lights outside paint soft lines on your skin. You sit back against the dresser, one hand tugging your shirt up above your breasts, exposing the slope of your ribs and the lace stretched across your thighs. You look up at your reflection. Flushed. Breathless. Needy.

I like how I’d look on you.

Your fingers slip past the lace—slick, warm, soaked.

And then his voice is in your head.

“Touch yourself like that.”

Your breath stutters. Your free hand presses against your stomach like he would, like he always does when he’s grounding you in training. Your hips roll into your fingers, slow and rhythmic.

“Keep going. You’re doing so good for me.”

The moan that slips out is soft, restrained. You imagine him kneeling behind you, one arm caging you in, his mouth next to your ear, voice thick with control.

“Open your legs more. I want to see you fall apart.”

You do—your knees spread wider, lace tugged to the side, fingers working faster now. Your back arches against the floor. Your thighs tremble.

“That’s it. Let go. Let me see you.”

You stare into your own eyes in the mirror—red-rimmed, wild, aching.

“Cum for me.”

And you do. Hard.

Your legs jerk, your hand stutters, your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your body writhes against the floor, shirt bunched under your chin, panties clinging to your wet thighs. It rolls through you like a wave—hot, breathless, endless. When it fades, You stare at the ceiling. Panting. Shaking. Spent. Your hand slips away, fingers slick and trembling. You look back into the mirror—lips parted, eyes glassy, skin flushed and glowing. You don’t smile. But something about the look in your eyes—heavy-lidded and dazed and soft—feels like one.

I like how I look… when I’m yours.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

~ Little Taglist ~

@wantsnuggles

@pheradream-15

@yelena2002

@uniqueoutlierblog

@heretoreadcirca1980s

(There was some trouble with tagging people— it wouldn’t let me tag for some reason! I’m so very sorry!!)

The morning crept in slowly, a quiet hush lingering in the corners of your apartment like the city itself hadn’t fully woken up yet. Soft blue light filtered through the blinds as you rolled over in bed, the events of the last few weeks flashing like scattered pieces of a dream—dim tunnels, Deranged man trying to kill you, mutant brothers, and that final rooftop ride in Leo’s arms.

You lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. It STILL didn’t feel real. And yet… the faint ache in your limbs said otherwise. With a groan, you kicked off the covers and padded into the bathroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes. The bruises from that night—still tender and faintly purple—had started to turn the corner toward healing. You brushed your fingers gently across one on your hip, wincing slightly, before moving on. By the time the sun had fully risen, you were dressed in soft cotton shorts and a fitted tank top. It hugged your shape comfortably without feeling too tight. You tugged on your thick cardigan, the kind you always wore on slightly chilly mornings like this, then padded barefoot into the kitchen to start your day.

Breakfast was simple. A slice of buttered toast, a glass of orange juice, and a banana you barely remembered buying. A cup of coffee with a handful of your vitamins and medications. You leaned against the counter as you ate, chewing absently while your mind wandered back to the conversation from last night.

“I can teach you.”

The way he’d said it—calm, direct, but not pushy—stuck with you more than it should’ve. Like he genuinely meant it. Like he really wanted to help. You took another bite of toast, heart doing a weird little flutter at the memory of his voice.

After breakfast, you filled your day with little tasks to pass the time before sundown. You cleaned the bathroom, wiped down your kitchen counters, vacuumed under the couch—anything to keep from obsessively watching the clock. Every now and then, you’d peek out your window, gaze drifting down at the streets, half expecting to see a shell or a flash of blue out of place.

But of course, you didn’t. They couldn’t be seen during the day. So you waited. By late afternoon, the sun had begun its slow dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across your apartment floor. The golden hour light spilled across your walls, warm and soft, and you found yourself curled on the couch with a blanket and your phone. You scrolled through some mindless videos, briefly considered canceling your plans, then quickly shook the thought away.

No. You wanted to do this. You needed to.

Somewhere deep down, you were still carrying the weight of what happened. The fear. The helplessness. The moment your back hit the alley wall and your voice cracked mid-scream because you didn’t know what to do. Never again.

You were just starting to doze off when—

Tap tap tap.

Your heart skipped. You sat up quickly, blanket tumbling to the floor as you turned toward your window. The city had darkened now, the sky painted in deep purples and navy blues. Streetlights blinked to life far below.

Another tap—this one more of a knock. You stood and moved to the window slowly, before sliding it open. And there he was.

Leonardo crouched just beyond the edge of the fire escape, moonlight casting a faint silver sheen across the blue of his mask. He nodded once in greeting, those calm eyes meeting yours with a steady focus.

“You ready?” he asked.

The cool breeze from outside slipped into your apartment, You didn’t hesitate this time.

You nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

— — — —

The lair was quiet when you arrived—at least compared to the last time, when Mikey had practically dragged you through a pizza-fueled whirlwind of chaos.

Now, under the warm, low lighting of the dojo, things felt… focused. Purposeful. Peaceful, even. You stood near the edge of the padded mats, fingers nervously tugging at the hem of your cardigan as Leo closed the door behind him. The floor beneath your socks was cool, soft enough to cushion a fall, but firm enough to demand balance. The space itself was lined with weapons you couldn’t name and banners you couldn’t read, but the air buzzed with discipline. You felt it in your chest.

Leo stepped forward, arms crossed lightly over his chest. “You’ve stretched before, right?”

“Not since high school gym class,” you admitted.

His mouth twitched. “We’ll start easy. Stretching helps prevent injury, and I’m not carrying you out of here with a pulled muscle.”

You smirked. “Was that an offer?”

He gave you a long look, unreadable. “Not unless it’s an emergency.”

You swallowed whatever smart reply almost slipped out and followed him onto the mat. He demonstrated a few slow, deliberate movements—neck rolls, shoulder stretches, forward bends—and you copied, wobbling a little more than you’d like to admit. He never commented, just watched with that same calm, observing gaze, correcting your form only when needed. When you reached down to touch your toes and faltered halfway there, he stepped behind you—close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off his chest.

“Try bending your knees slightly,” he murmured, voice low, “so you’re not locking your hips.”

You adjusted, and his hand hovered near your waist for a second, not touching—but present.

“Better.”

You exhaled slowly, trying not to focus on how close he was standing. When you came back up, he was already stepping back.

“Alright,” he said, nodding once. “Let’s get into it.”

The lesson began simple. He showed you how to ground your stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight balanced. Then came the hand positioning, the movement drills, how to escape a grip or block a swing.

But as the lesson progressed… things got closer.

At one point, he moved in behind you again, showing you how to twist out of a grab. You felt the bulk of his arm snake around your waist—not squeezing, just enough pressure to simulate an attacker’s grip.

“Don’t panic,” he instructed. “Breathe. Then pivot—like this.” You tried. Your hip knocked into his leg, your balance faltered, and you almost tumbled sideways. But before you could hit the mat, his arm wrapped around your middle, steadying you. Firm. Warm. Strong. You looked up quickly, chest heaving slightly from exertion—and there he was. Inches from your face.

His expression didn’t shift. His breath was calm. But his eyes… they were locked on yours, unreadable but intense. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then he stepped back.

“Again,” he said, voice just a touch lower now.

You reset your stance. This time, when he reached for you, you were ready. You twisted hard, pushed your elbow up—and managed to break free.

He gave a quiet grunt of approval. “Nice.”

You smiled, panting a little. “You didn’t go easy on me that time.”

“I won’t,” he said simply. “Not if you want to really learn.”

Another move. This time you had to pin his arm, redirect his weight. His hand grazed your thigh as you spun. His plastron brushed your chest when you slipped too far forward. His voice stayed level, but his gaze flicked over you—assessing, adjusting, and maybe… maybe noticing. But never saying a word.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour of grips, pivots, close calls, and fast escapes, he called it.

“We’ll stop there for today.”

You were sweating. Your legs ached. But you felt strong. Capable. “Thanks,” you said, stretching your sore shoulder. He gave a rare half-smile. “You picked it up fast. Most people freeze when they’re grabbed.”

“I still froze, that’s my problem in that moment when that guy tried to rob me I froze” you muttered.

“But you moved through it. That’s what matters.”

You pulled your cardigan back on, the air suddenly cool on your skin. Leo looked like he wanted to say something else—something more—but instead, he just said:

“Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m in. I have a morning shift so i’ll get off in time” And as you followed him out of the dojo, a quiet little thought flickered in the back of your mind— You’d never been that close to someone who made you feel so safe… and still left your heart beating that fast.

— — — —

The Lair was quieter than usual when you arrived. Apparently all the boys got in trouble for playing volleyball and breaking one of Master Splinters most favorite china tea cups. The dim light filtered from the lanterns above, casting long shadows across the mat. You stretched alone this time, letting the silence wrap around you while you shook out the nerves fluttering under your skin.

Your legs were still sore from yesterday, and your arms held a pleasant heaviness from muscles that hadn’t been used in a while. But beneath all that soreness… was excitement.

Anticipation.

You had barely finished touching your toes when Leo stepped inside, all calm control and quiet presence.

“Warming up already?” he asked, a note of approval in his voice.

You straightened with a small smile. “Didn’t want to get scolded for poor form again.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t scold.”

“Mmm. You correct very aggressively.” He didn’t deny it.

You held the stretch a moment longer, then slowly straightened, brushing your hands over your thighs. “Sooo…” you started, glancing at him with a sly look. “How was the… what’s it called again? Hatchet? Hatchi?”

Leo huffed a quiet laugh. “Ha-shi.”

“Right, right. That.”

He gave you a look like he was deciding whether or not to actually tell you—then gave in with a quiet sigh. “Splinter had us go through the full protocol. No talking. No electronics. No snacks.”

You gasped mockingly. “Not the snacks.”

Leo smirked. “Worse. He made us do the balance trial.”

You tilted your head. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, clearly reliving it. “Standing on one leg on top of stacked milk crates—while balancing buckets of water on both arms.”

You blinked. “That sounds like something Mikey would come up with as a punishment.”

“Exactly why it works. It’s humiliating and painful.”

You laughed, the image too vivid not to. “So who fell first?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Raph. Took down three crates and a bucket with him.”

“I feel like Mikey would’ve lasted the longest.”

“He almost did,” Leo said flatly. “Only because he turned it into a game and started singing songs to get him hyped’”

You grinned, already picturing it.

“What about you?” you asked. “You last the whole time?”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Of course I did.”

“Mmm. So humble.”

he stepped forward onto the mat and rolled his shoulders back. “Anyways I think we’re going to move into more advanced positioning today. Situational escapes, leverage. Some of these moves will be… close-contact.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And yesterday wasn’t?”

That earned you a small chuckle from him. He simply motioned you over. “Let’s start with a common scenario. Someone grabs you from behind. You won’t be able to see their face or predict their movement. The goal is to create distance quickly and get out.” He moved behind you slowly, hands ghosting near your sides before wrapping one arm low around your waist and the other across your shoulder—careful, but secure.

“Now breathe,” he murmured behind your ear. “Feel where I’m holding you. Don’t try to power out—redirect.” You could feel the heat of his body behind you. Your heart kicked into a sprint, but you followed his voice, planting your feet and twisting sharply, shifting your hips like he’d taught you. His grip loosened, and before you knew it, he stepped back.

“Better,” he said, voice low and even.

You exhaled through a grin. “That’s gotta be the first time I’ve managed to shake you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Over the next hour, you practiced takedowns, reversals, controlled falls—each one drawing you closer into Leo’s space. You learned how to break a wrist grab, how to duck under an arm and pivot, how to use your legs for balance when your upper body couldn’t. Then, near the end, Leo hesitated. Just a beat. Just enough to make you curious.

“This next one,” he said, “is less about strength. More about position.” You waited, watching as he knelt on the mat and motioned for you to do the same.

“Let’s say you’re pinned. On your back. Someone’s above you—you have to get them off and escape.”

You paused. “That feels… a little advanced for day two.”

His eyes locked onto yours, calm and unreadable. “That’s the point. Better to be uncomfortable now than helpless later.” You swallowed and nodded, slowly lowering onto your back like he instructed. He hovered above you for a moment, one knee on either side of your hips, hands braced on the mat beside your shoulders—his weight supported, but undeniably close. You felt your breath hitch.

Leo didn’t say a word. His expression didn’t change. But the position—the warmth of him above you, the way your legs bracketed his thighs, the firmness of the mat beneath you—it sent a flush racing up your neck before you could stop it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You nodded, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Focus.” He guided your hands to his wrists, instructed you on how to shift your weight and hook your leg to one side, using momentum to roll and escape. The first try failed miserably—you barely moved him an inch.

“You’re hesitating,” he said softly. You looked up at him—right into those dark, unreadable eyes—and forced a breath.

“Because you’re hovering over me like a brick wall.” He tilted his head, and for the first time, something shifted in his gaze. Not amusement exactly… but something warmer. Gentler. Fleeting.

“Then push harder.” You tried again. This time, with a sharp twist of your hips and a determined kick of your leg, you threw your weight—and Leo rolled, landing beside you on the mat with a dull thud. You lay there, panting. Shocked. A little flushed. He looked over at you, equally still.

“You did it,” he said.

“I did it,” you echoed, stunned.

“Not bad for day two.” You blinked up at the ceiling, heart still racing—not from the move, but from… all of it. The proximity. The intensity. The sound of his voice so close to your ear. Leo stood slowly and reached a hand down to you. You took it, letting him pull you up with effortless strength.

“We’ll stop there,” he said, stepping back to give you space. “Rest up. Your body will need it.”

“Right,” you muttered, wiping your forehead.

He raised a brow, like he heard you but chose not to respond. “Let’s do this again next week? give you a break in between?”

You hesitated—just a second. Then nodded. “Yeah. That sounds fine.” As you gathered your things and followed him out of the dojo, the space between you felt different.

Still respectful. Still quiet. But charged.

— — — —

You were still toweling off the sweat from your forehead when you wandered out of the dojo, your limbs jelly-like and your hoodie slung over one shoulder. The hallway air was cooler, and you welcomed the chill as you made your way toward the common area.

Voices and flashing lights led you to the living space, where Mikey was sprawled upside down on the couch, head hanging over the edge and a slice of pizza in hand. Some retro cartoon blared from the TV—muted, naturally—but Mikey’s laughter still bounced around the room.

He spotted you instantly.

“Yo, short stack!” he grinned, flipping over dramatically so he was sitting right-side up. “Survived your second day of ninja boot camp, huh?” You let out a breathy laugh as you walked over, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “Barely. I don’t know if I’m sore or just permanently broken.”

“That’s how you know you’re doin’ it right.”

You smiled and rubbed your shoulder, glancing at the screen. “You watching fight videos?”

“Duh. Gotta educate myself on new moves. Also it’s funny seeing people get their asses whooped.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Mikey eyed you for a second, then leaned in with a mischievous grin.

“But how’s training with Leo? He making you do the splits or like, bench press a manhole cover?”

You snorted. “No, it’s not like that. It’s mostly self defense. Close quarters, redirection, that kind of thing.”

“Ooooh,” Mikey wiggled his brows dramatically, “close quarters, huh?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he said, throwing his hands up. “You’re lucky. I saw you both practicing and Leo’s been mad gentle with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Gentle? No way. He’s serious, sure, but not… gentle.”

Mikey grabbed the remote to pause the TV and turned to you in stunned disbelief and pointed at you. “YES. WAY. Are you kidding me?”

You tilted your head. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude,” he said, scooching forward on the couch with wild hand gestures. “When we were learning all that self-defense junk? He used to throw us around like rag dolls. Raph and I would leave the dojo with actual bruises. One time he flipped Donnie straight into a bookshelf.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Mikey kept going. “I once got tossed through the door. Not out. Through. Like a cartoon. Wood pieces and everything— I remember Master Splinter being pissed with Leo for going to harsh on us.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way.”

“I still have trauma.”

You burst into laughter, wiping your eyes. “Are you being serious right now?”

“As serious as Splinter during meditation hour.”

Your mind drifted back to the lesson. The way Leo had hovered above you, his tone calm, his hands guiding rather than grabbing. Every movement intentional—but never rough. Not once had he pushed your limits too far. And that last move…Huh…

Mikey grinned, watching the realization hit you. “Told you.”

“I didn’t think he treated me THAT differently,” you murmured, blinking.

“Oh, he does,” Mikey said before unpausing the TV and redirecting his attention to it once more. “Just don’t tell him I told you.” You glanced back down the hall, heart doing something weird in your chest. Then quickly shook it off.

“It’s probably just ‘cause I’m not one of you,” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

Mikey shrugged. “Sure. Keep tellin’ yourself that.” You threw your dirty towel at him. He caught it and immediately folded it, like it was nothing.

“See you later, dojo girl,” he said, winking at you. You rolled your eyes, but your grin didn’t fade. When you were making your way out the lair, hoodie pulled over your head— Leo’s voice still echoed in your mind.

“Better to be uncomfortable now than helpless later.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

~ Little Taglist ~

@uniqueoutlierblog

@pheradream-15

@yelena2002

@doggydale

It was your first real day off in a while and a whole week since you’ve talk to any of the brothers, which sucked but you didn’t want to bother them. But in other good news no more bruises were fresh enough to throb, and your foot had finally stopped aching whenever you put weight on it. So naturally, you were doing the only thing a rational adult would do with a free afternoon off from work and no plans—wearing your softest oversized shirt, eating some leftover donuts you took from the diner before you went home, and aggressively online window-shopping like you had money to burn.

Your laptop was perched on your thighs, YouTube playing some mindless video in the background, while you flipped between open tabs of cute throw pillows and way-too-expensive perfume.

That’s when the screen went black.

You blinked. The video cut. Your tabs vanished. Your cursor stopped moving. All at once, the chill of this isn’t normal crawled up your spine.

You tapped the trackpad. “Um… helloooo? did you die already???” You swore you just had this bitch on the charger all damn night. The screen flickered once—then, abruptly, a stream of green text appeared across the black screen like something out of a hacker movie.

> CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.

> TRACKING SIGNAL CONFIRMED.

> INITIATING COORDINATE UPLOAD…

> FINAL MESSAGE: COME ALONE.

Your mouth parted. “What the hell?” A location popped up next—latitude, longitude, street intersection. Somewhere deep in Brooklyn.

You sat up straighter, the bag of donuts forgotten beside you. For a second, your brain scrambled to rationalize it. Had you clicked something? Was it malware? Was this a scam?

And then it hit you. Donnie. Of course it was him.

You exhaled, heart thudding, nerves and curiosity slamming into you at the same time. The message blinked twice before the laptop shut down entirely on its own.

You stared at the black screen in silence.

“…Well. That’s a normal invitation.”

— — — —

One Train Ride and a Sketchy Alley Later…

You tightened your hoodie around you as the chill of the underground crept in. The coordinates had led to an abandoned building with a rusted fire escape and an open storm grate nearby. Your gut told you the second one was the winner.

You stood over it, peering down into the shadows.

A soft clatter echoed from below—metal hitting stone. Maybe a pipe. Maybe something alive.

“Cool,” you muttered. “Totally not murder-y.”

After another deep breath and a quick “I’m so gonna regret this” under your breath, you crouched, gripped the ladder—very hard and being extremely cautious of your step—and climbed down. The deeper you went, the stronger the scent of metal, cologne and… pizza? Eventually, the tunnel opened in a dim corridor with flickering string lights zip-tied overhead like some underground dorm room. You followed it, shoes echoing against the damp cement.

And then you saw it. The lair.

It looked like a bizarre mix of a hacker’s cave, a dojo, and a frat house of a boy’s man cave. Giant monitors, stacks of old VHS tapes, exercise mats, weapons on walls, a punching bag swinging slowly in one corner. There was even a couch that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the 90s—and probably hadn’t but still looked like the comfiest thing you’d ever sit on.

You didn’t even get the chance to say anything before a voice echoed: “Took you long enough.” You turned sharply to see Donatello standing at a workbench, goggles propped on his forehead, half-disassembled tech scattered in front of him.

“What the hell kinda invitation was that?” you asked. “You hacked my laptop?”

He didn’t look up. “I politely borrowed your screen. It’s not hacking if you have the talent.”

“I almost had a heart attack.”

“I said ‘come alone,’ not ‘come dramatically.’” He finally turned, lifting a brow. “Wanted to see how you were holding up?”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve been doing a lot better. Thanks again for the patch up. Also a little warning next time would’ve been cute next time you wanna ‘borrow’ my screen.”

Donnie gave a shrug. “You’re welcome again— and fair. But your encryption was pathetic.” Before you could retort, another voice cut in—lower, firmer.

“Well, well, well—she actually came.” You turned again—Leo stood in the far archway, arms crossed, partially in shadow. His eyes scanned you with a calm, calculating look, then flicked to Donnie.

“Hello Leonardo” You have a small wave with a smile—He returned the hello with a head nod.

“You might as well show her around. You know… before Mikey finds out and throws a welcome party.” Donnie said, moving back to his tech.

Leo gave a long-suffering sigh with an eye roll. “God help us.”

— — — —

Leo walked a few paces ahead, quiet but not cold, leading you deeper into the lair. It was bigger than you expected—more like a patchwork bunker than a secret sewer hideout. As your footsteps echoed beside his, you caught glimpses of weirdly cozy touches: a beat-up beanbag chair here, Christmas lights strung across pipes there. A home.

As you walked passed Donnie’s lab, He was muttering something to himself in front of six different monitors, completely in his own world.

“Still not over how many screens he has. I swear I saw a livestream of the moon.” you said softly to Leo.

Leo smirked slightly. “Yeah, he likes to keep tabs on…everything.” He turned into a larger space—definitely the living room—with a huge flat-screen mounted to a wall that looked like it’d been salvaged from a junkyard and painted. Old couches, mismatched rugs, and at least three pizza boxes were scattered around.

Mikey and Raph were in the middle of a fighting game, trash-talking each other like it was a sport.

“YOU CAN’T BLOCK FOREVER, BRO!” Mikey yelled, button-mashing aggressively.

“Watch me,” Raph shot back, eyes narrowed, thumbs flying. Mikey glanced up mid-match and yelled. “AYYYY, MY GIRL!”

He instantly paused the game, dropped his controller, and jogged over to you. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you in a dramatic, spin-you-slightly hug.

“You came to the crib!” he said into your shoulder.

You laughed, a little off balance. “I did, supriiiisse.”

Raph gave you a nod from the couch. “Yo.”

“Hello raphael,” you said, waving at him. “Sorry for interrupting the gaming war.”

“You’re good,” he grunted. “I was winnin’ anyway.”

“False,” Mikey said as he released you. “But I’ll let him dream.”

Leo raised a brow. “Thought I said we were doing a tour.”

“You are,” Mikey said, plopping back onto the couch. “I just wanted to give our guest a proper welcome. That’s called manners, Leo.” Leo rolled his eyes once more and gestured for you to follow again. As you walked side by side down a hallway lined with old posters and duct-taped cracks in the walls, you glanced up at him.

“So… do other people know about you guys?”

He glanced down, cautious. “A few—and we want to keep it that way”

“Like who?”

“April O’Neil,” he said first. “Casey Jones. Vern Fenwick.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—the news girl? And that guy who got the key to the city and cause like he saved New York?”

Leo exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. That one.”

You caught onto his annoyance at your comment about Vern. “He didn’t actually save the city it was you guys wasn’t it?” you said in a bland and almost disappointed tone.

Leo’s lips twitched slightly. “You’re a smart girl.”

Just ahead, he paused outside a doorway draped with hanging cloth and warm candlelight. You didn’t even have time to ask what it was before Leo knocked once and quietly said, “Master Splinter?”

The name had barely left his mouth when a tall figure stepped into the hall—robes flowing, fur silvered with age, and eyes sharp despite the calm in his stance.

Your jaw slackened a little. Okay. Turtles you could handle. Giant talking rat? Bit more of a curveball. Splinter’s gaze swept over you slowly. “So,” he said in a low, smooth voice, “you are the one who has captured my sons’ attention.”

“I—um.” You cleared your throat. “Hi—Mr.Splinter sir” oh my god you’re talking to a rat.

“She’s the girl from sewer line mikey saved,” Leo added quietly. Splinter stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “I see. You are braver than you appear.”

You tried to smile. “It’s either that or I’m having the strangest dream of my life.”

To your surprise, Splinter let out a soft chuckle. “Courage and humor. That is good I trust you’ll be good influence on my children.” Then, just like that, he gave a small bow and returned to his room without another word.

You stood frozen a second. “Okay… I like him.”

Leo’s voice was casual beside you. “He grows on you.”

— — — —

Later That Evening…

You hadn’t planned to stay long. Honestly, you thought this would be a quick visit—poke around, say hi, confirm they weren’t sewer-dwelling murderers, then leave. But somewhere between Mikey’s welcome hug, Splinter’s calm stare, and the sheer vibe of the place, you stayed.

And now, you were sitting at a round table in their main hangout room, a surprisingly sturdy setup surrounded by mismatched chairs and stools. Mikey had shoved a stack of paper plates into your hands while singing something about “pizza night, baby!”

“This is, like, tradition,” he said, handing you a greasy, cheese-loaded slice. “Sacred. Weekly. Sometimes nightly. Depends on the trauma levels.”

Raph grunted as he grabbed a slice. “More like hourly if Mikey’s on delivery duty.”

“Dude, you love my orders,” Mikey countered with a grin.

Donnie slid into his usual seat, balancing a tablet on one hand while eating with the other. Leo took the chair across from you, posture way more composed than the others—like even pizza night couldn’t shake his discipline.

As everyone dug in, the energy lightened. The conversation bounced around between game scores, weird people they’d seen topside, and a few embarrassing stories about each other. You mostly listened, smiling, trying to absorb the reality of sitting underground with brothers like it was a normal night out.

“So,” Donnie said, tipping his head toward you after a bit. “What do you do, when you’re not getting ambushed in alleys?”

You laughed softly, wiping your fingers. “I just waitress during the week, sometimes weekends if I need extra cash. The food industry can be hectic but kind of fun. But besides working my life away I really like to read and I occasionally play games on my Nintendo.”

Mikey’s eyes widened. “Ouuu we gotta play some stuff together. I’m an absolute demon at mariokart.”

You smiled at him, nodding your head in agreement before adding, “Yeah, we should definitely play sometime—i’ll be holding that to you.” Then you glanced down at your hands for a second, thumb brushing over a faint scratch. “…Honestly, after what happened in the alleyway, I kinda wish I knew how to defend myself. I felt so helpless. I probably wouldn’t have ended up like i did if i knew what the hell i was doing”

There was a brief pause.

Then Leo set his slice down.

“I could teach you,” he said, voice calm, low.

You blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “If you’re serious. I could show you some basics—how to handle yourself in close range. It wouldn’t make you invincible, but you’d be more prepared.”

Before you could answer, Donnie chimed in, “Leo’s the best when it comes to technique. Especially defensive stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikey added, grinning. “Mr. ‘Mind-Body-Spirit.’ You’d be in good hands. Plus, he’s really patient. Like annoyingly patient.”

Leo gave Mikey a look, but said nothing.

“I mean…” you started, glancing between them. “That would be awesome. I’ve always wanted to learn especially living alone in a big city, I just… didn’t know how to even start.”

Leo leaned back slightly, giving you a small nod. “We can start whenever you’re ready.”

Your chest tightened slightly—but not in a bad way. More like someone had tossed you a lifeline. “Okay..,” you said. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Mikey raised his slice like a toast. “To our new little ninja in training!”

Everyone laughed—yes, even Raph—and you felt something warm settle in your chest. For the first time in a long time… you felt safe. And maybe even a little like you belonged.

— — — —

You stretched your arms over your head with a small yawn, now full of pizza and warmth— you can’t wait to finish those donuts for dessert when you get home. The lair had a weird coziness to it—like a messy but lived-in home. Familiar voices, faint TV sounds in the background, and the soft scent of something sweet (Mikey insisted it was incense, but it smelled suspiciously like cinnamon toaster pastries).

You stood from the table, brushing pizza crumbs off your jeans. “Alright, I should probably head home before I fall asleep right here.”

Mikey dramatically gasped. “Abandoning us already?”

“She’s allowed to have a life, Mikey,” Donnie said, not looking up from his tablet.

Leo stood too, almost immediately, like he’d planned to walk you out. “I’ll get you back up top.”

You glanced over at him. “I’m free tomorrow, by the way… if you wanted to do that self-defense lesson.”He paused for a second, just a breath longer than necessary, then nodded. “Tomorrow works, before our patrol will do.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Cool. just give me a time and i’ll head back over here”

“I’ll come get you before our patrol don’t worry,” he said, voice quiet but sure. You raised a brow. “Guess I’ll keep my window unlocked.”

Mikey grinned like he heard it too. “Ooohhh the window entrance—classic Leo move.”

Raph gave mikey a stern punch to the arm— almost like a warning.

You snorted, pulling your jacket around you. “Thanks for dinner, by the way. This was… unexpectedly great.” giving everyone a goodbye and goodnight before going.

Leo motioned for you to follow him toward the tunnel exit. As you walked beside him through the dim corridors of the lair, the noise of his brothers faded behind you, replaced by a quiet that felt strangely calming.

When you reached the bottom of the ladder leading up to street level, Leo hesitated, glancing over at you.

“Want a ride?”

You blinked thinking about if you wanna go on a roller coaster ride right now. He tilted his head toward the surface, a hint of something almost smug in his eyes. “Faster than waiting on the bus.” You hesitated—just for a second. “…I guess so. Beats awkward eye contact with strangers.”

Leo nodded once, then crouched in front of you, his arms opening slightly. Your stomach flipped.

Before you could second guess it, he was already lifting you off your feet with practiced ease, cradling you securely against his chest in a surprisingly gentle bridal carry.

“Hold on,” he warned, and then— The rooftops blurred. You clung to him as wind rushed past your ears, your arms tucked around his neck, eyes wide as he leapt from building to building like it was nothing. His grip on you was solid, unshakable, like he’d done this a thousand times. You swore you could hear your heart pounding louder than the city below.

Somewhere in between the third and fourth rooftop, you found yourself laughing—a breathless, unfiltered sound that you hadn’t felt in a while. Leo glanced down at you briefly, and though his expression didn’t change much, you swore his eyes softened just a little.

Before long, your building came into view, the familiar rooftop entrance just a few steps away. Leo landed smoothly and finally set you down, steadying you as your legs adjusted to solid ground again.

You looked up at him, breath catching slightly. “I don’t think i’ll ever get used to that.”

He gave a rare, small smile. “But I told you it’d be faster— you’d still be on the bus right now if you took it.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. “yeah yeah but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

He nodded. “I’ll be here.”

You took a step back, hand already on the rooftop door handle. “Don’t be late.”

“I never am.” And with that, he stepped into the shadows—silent and swift as always—leaving behind only the cool night air and the quiet flutter in your chest.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

~ Little Taglist ~

@pheradream-15

@doggydale

It had been two days. Two long, achy, surreal days. You hadn’t told anyone. Not your coworkers. Not your family. Not your friends.

Who would believe you anyway?

You’d almost convinced yourself it was some kind of stress dream—until you caught your reflection brushing your teeth and spotted the healing stitches on your forearm. Or the random bruises that bloomed deeper purple every hour.

Yeah. No dream.

You hadn’t heard from them since that night, either. No mystery texts. No shadow outside your window. Just silence. You shook the thought from your head and pulled your hoodie tighter as you walked down the sidewalk. Your foot still twinged with every few steps, but you had rent to pay and bills piling up. So here you were, walking the same route back to your waitressing job—

When you got inside you immediately headed to the back not making eye contact with anyone yet— You swiped your apron from the hook in the breakroom, moving slower than usual.

Everything still hurt. Your arm, your side, your damn foot. Even your neck had that weird tension from sleeping crooked the last two nights. You could still feel the soreness down your spine from hitting the sewer floor so hard. Donnie said you’d be bruised up but lucky to be alive. And that stuck with you—because yeah, you’d felt pretty unlucky that night.

You tied the apron at your waist with a wince, then stepped through the swinging doors onto the diner floor.

“Girl.”

You turned—and there was Nicole. Forty-five. Big lashes. Bigger hoop earrings. Thick brown curls in a half-up bun. She wore her uniform way too cropped for regulation and talked like every word deserved its own exclamation point.

“Nicole,” you greeted her, trying to smile. But she was already walking toward you, eyes squinting.

“Babe,” she said again, softly this time. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Your heart jumped, but she wasn’t accusing. Just worried. You blinked. “What?”

She nodded at your jaw. You’d used concealer. Apparently not well enough. “And your arm. And you’re limping. Don’t play me, Y/n. You look like you got jumped.”

You opened your mouth, but she crossed her arms. “Don’t you dare say you’re fine.”

“I—I fell,” you said quickly, eyes darting away. “Like… really bad. On my way home the other night.”

Nicole tilted her head. “What, did you fall off a building?”

You snorted—because… kind of? “I just… I don’t really wanna talk about it, okay? But just know I’m fine now”

She watched you for a second, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Okay, but listen. If someone did this to you—like, a dude or some crazy customer—you tell me, got it? I got an older brother who just got out of prison and a pepper spray in my purse that could take down a moose.”

You cracked a real smile at that. “You’re insane.”

“Damn right I am. And don’t you forget it.” Nicole looped an arm around your shoulders—carefully, since she could tell you were still sore—and gave you a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. The usual crowd’s rolling in and you know Paul’s gonna leave a mess on table six.” You let out a soft breath and followed her onto the floor, trying not to limp too noticeably. But your thoughts were distant.

Every tray you carried. Every plate you dropped off. Every “Have a good night” you forced through a fake smile— You HAD to shake it off and refill more glasses of tea and water. You were being weird. They probably had lives of their own lives. missions. Whatever. You were just a blip on their radar.

— — — —

Your shift finally ended, and this time you didn’t even think about walking home.

You ordered an Uber the second you stepped outside, keeping your hoodie pulled up and your head down. You didn’t care that it cost more than you wanted to spend—you just wanted to get home without being followed, chased, or bleeding from a new place.

The ride was silent. You stared out the window, fingers brushing over the slight edge of gauze still tucked under your sleeve.

When you got back to your building, you kicked your shoes off with a groan— changed into some comfy PJs and headed straight for the cabinet grabbing your favorite wine glass then you grabbed a half-filled bottle of wine from the fridge, poured it, and made your way to climb the narrow stairwell to the rooftop. You’d always liked it up here—just tall enough to see the lights of Manhattan in the distance, just quiet enough to forget the chaos below. Your building wasn’t fancy, but this rooftop had become your little secret escape— up here, things slowed down.

You sat near the edge, legs crossed, a hoodie thrown over your shift uniform, your glass of wine resting against your knee. The city lights stretched out in front of you, and for a second—just a second—you could almost convince yourself that things were normal again.

that was until—

THUD—CLANG— “OW–DAMN–IS THAT A LAWM-CHAIR??”

You jumped in place as a massive figure dropped from above, tripped over the utility vent, and hit the rooftop landing on a folding lawn chair with a yelp and a dramatic tumble. You nearly spilled your wine.

“What the—?!”

“OOOUUU,” came a groan. “Okay, okay, not my smoothest entrance but like—10/10 for drama, right?” You stared wide-eyed as the orange-masked turtle—Mikey—sat up, rubbing his elbow with a pained grin. He spotted the wine in your hand immediately and lit up like a Times Square billboard.

“Ouuu whatcha drinkin’? Is that wine? Are we having a wine night?? Say less—I brought vibes!”

You blinked, still catching up. “You—you just—dropped out of nowhere! Are you okay??”

“Uh, yeah?” he said like it was obvious. “Rooftop entrances are my thing. Except when they’re not. Like now. This one’s gonna leave a bruise…” He finally stood upright, towering over you with that familiar Mikey energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You tilted your head, smirking faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a ninja?”

“EXCUSE you—I am a ninja.”

“Yeah? Thought ninjas were supposed to be quiet.”

“Hey now—ninja code doesn’t cover rooftop furniture assaults, okay? That folding chair came outta nowhere.” You actually laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. He grinned like he just scored a win.

“Oh! I come bearing gifts,” he added proudly, reaching into his bag and pulling out… Your purse.

“Ta-da!”

You gasped. “Wait—how did you…I thought that guy stole it from me?”

“Leo snagged it before you left the lair, but I called dibs on the delivery so I could see your beautiful face again” he said proudly, handing it over. “Also, side note, you really need to clean this out. I found, like, five crumpled gum wrappers, two ancient pens, and a very expired Starbucks gift card.”

You blinked. “You went through it?!”

He looked offended. “I had to make sure it wasn’t, like, booby-trapped! Ninja safety protocol.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mhm.”

“…Also you have some really good smelling perfume samples in there.”

You stared.

“Yeah,” he added with a wink. “Donnie found your socials. I might’ve peeked. Great playlists, by the way. Kinda vibey. Bit dramatic. Definitely single.”

“Personal life is out the window” You were laughing now, shaking your head as you clutched your purse to your chest.

Mikey’s voice softened just a little as he stepped beside you, crouching near the ledge.

“You, uh… haven’t told anyone, right?”

You glanced over. “About…?”

“Us,” he said, suddenly serious. “About what happened. Who we are. Where you were. My brothers… they’d totally flip if someone found out. Leo’s already in big brother threat mode.”

You nodded quickly. “No. I didn’t say anything. I won’t.”

He relaxed, giving you a warm smile. “Good. ‘Cause, y’know…we’d probably have to kill you if you did.”

Your eyes went wide. “what?!”

Mikey let out a laugh. “I’m just joking’ shortcake. But seriously your like deep in this now and you really can’t be telling people”

You raised your mug of wine. “Great. Always wanted to join a mutant turtle gang.” He clinked an imaginary glass with you. “Welcome to the family.”

— — — —

You were mid-sip, half-laughing as Mikey recounted some insane story about Donnie blowing up one of their old TVs “accidentally,” when a low thump behind you cut the moment short.

Your eyes flicked over your shoulder just in time to see a tall, shadowy figure drop silently onto the rooftop—sword sheaths and all.

Mikey turned, still holding the wine bottle he had absolutely not asked permission to touch. “Ohhhhhh,” he drawled, grinning wide. “Lookie lookie—it’s fearless leader Leo!”

Leo’s sigh was audible. “Mikey,” he said flatly, stepping forward, “you said you’d be back in five minutes.”

Leo deadpanned. “It’s been two hours.”

You coughed, barely holding in a laugh. Mikey glanced your way and gave you an exaggerated shrug.

“Time flies when you’re charming and socially gifted.”

Leo crossed his arms, clearly unamused. “You were supposed to check in. Donnie thought you might’ve got attacked.”

“Nah, I was just… y’know… debriefing.”

“Debriefing?” Leo echoed.

Mikey nodded solemnly. “Yep. Making sure our new friend is emotionally stable and still not planning to rat us out to Buzzfeed or TMZ.”

You snorted into your glass, and Leo’s eyes cut over to you for the first time.

“You haven’t told anyone… right?” he asked, his voice softer, more serious.

You shook your head. “No. Haven’t said a word. My coworkers thinks I got mugged by a pigeon.”

Mikey cackled.

Leo gave a small nod. “Good. Keep it that way. We’re not exactly… built for attention.”

Mikey jabbed a thumb at Leo. “Yeah, he’s shy.”

“I’m cautious,” Leo corrected. “You’re reckless.”

“And handsome.”

You smiled, giggling, glancing between them, your nerves starting to ease again.

Leo exhaled slowly, gaze lingering on you a beat too long. “We should go. Our patrol for tonight is done with.”

Mikey tossed the now-empty wine bottle in the trash can near the rooftop door. “Alright, alright.”

Leo arched a brow. “You gave her wine?” asking his younger brother as they started to walk off towards the edge of the building

“She already had the wine,” Mikey defended. “I just…encouraged the vibe.”

Leo shook his head, turning slightly. But before he could fully step back into the shadows, Mikey quickly walked back over to you and leaned close to you and whispered, just loud enough for Leo to hear:

“Seriously though—Leo has been watching this building for three nights straight.”

Leo’s voice cut in, stern. “Mikey—”

“Protectively!” Mikey grinned wide. “Like a heroic, totally not obsessed bodyguard. Super respectful. Very emotionally repressed.”

“Mikey. Let’s go. Now”

He raised his hands. “I’m done! I’m done! Just letting her know she’s in good hands”

Leo let out a quiet growl, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go before I toss you off the roof.”

Mikey nudged you with a wink. “He won’t. He’s too noble.” You laughed, half from nerves and half from actual amusement, watching the two disappear into the shadows—Leo with his usual stoic glide, Mikey practically skipping behind.

You watched then both disappear into the city like you did the few nights before. You smiled to yourself feeling excited about life is about to throw at you.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You heard the footsteps first. Fast. Heavy. Purposeful. You glanced over your shoulder.

A man in a tattered hoodie was trailing you.

You picked up your pace. So did he.

“Hey!” his voice rang out. “C’mon, I just wanna talk.”

Bullshit.

You didn’t answer. Just kept moving. Then another shadow appeared ahead of you—cutting off your path. Your breath hitched.

“Didn’t your mama teach you not to ignore people?” the second man sneered. He was blocking the sidewalk now, grin crooked and teeth yellow. “What you got in the bag, sweetheart?”

Panic. Real, raw panic.

You turned on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction. Your breath burned your throat, the icy night air slicing at your lungs. But you were running blind—and your luck was shit.

Your heart hammered. You turned to run, but then you felt a grab on your arm—fingers tight like iron—and yanked you back. You screamed, twisting away.

“Let go of me!”

The man lunged from the side, grabbing your arm and jerking you back hard enough to spin you. A flash of metal caught your eye—box cutter—then a sudden sting, sharp and deep across your forearm.

You screamed and stumbled, warm blood instantly soaking your sleeve.

“Just give us the fuckin’ cash!” he growled.

You cried out, but the adrenaline kicked in before the fear could swallow you whole. You kneed him square in the groin, hard enough to make him drop to the ground with a howl.

“Bitch!”

You didn’t wait to hear more. You ran. Blood dripped down your arm, soaking into your sleeve as you stumbled through the alley, vision blurring from panic. You didn’t know where you were going—you just had to get away.

You zigzagged through back routes, knocking over trash bins and cutting down narrow walkways. You couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore. Not clearly. But you didn’t stop—not until your body gave out beneath you, your foot catching on something solid and round.

You slammed to the ground, pain flaring through your knees and palms. You scrambled to get up—then noticed it. A manhole cover. Slightly off its frame. Just enough space.

And then you heard him again—his voice, somewhere close:

“WHERE’D YOU GO?! HUH?! I WILL FIND YOU!”

He was close. Too close. With no other option, you slipped your fingers into the edge of the cover, ignoring the grime, and pulled just enough to push it aside. The stink of wet mold, rust, and sewer rot hit you hard—but you didn’t hesitate. You slipped one bloodied hand onto the ladder and climbed down, feet finding the slick metal rungs in the dark.

Every breath echoed. You stopped about halfway down and tucked your body tight against the wall, trying not to shake. You didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe.

Above you, the man’s boots hit the pavement nearby. “I saw you! I saw you come this way, you little cunt—don’t play with me!” He was pacing back and forth over the cover. You could feel him there. You shut your eyes tight and held your breath, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled movements.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Another.

His voice trailed off. His footsteps grew fainter.

Eventually, silence returned, broken only by the drip of water from overhead pipes and your own thudding heartbeat.

You waited another moment. Then two. Then, finally, you exhaled, breath shaky and heavy in the dark. You moved to climb back up. Your hand, still shaking, gripped the rung above you. It creaked, wet and rusted.

Your foot rose—and slipped. You scrambled to regain footing, but the metal was slick with sewage and age. Another step—CRACK. One of the rungs gave out beneath your weight.

Your scream echoed through the tunnel as you tumbled backwards into the dark, your body twisting midair. You hit the stone floor below with a sickening thud, your elbow smashing into the ground and your head whipping to the side. Pain exploded through your shoulder, and something warm and wet trickled from your temple.

Then everything went black.

— — — —

“Yo, yo, YO! Sewer Drift King strikes again!!”

Mikey’s voice echoed off the tunnel walls as his board sliced through a slick patch of runoff, kicking up nasty sewer water like a wave behind him. He leaned hard into the curve, one hand dragging against the stone for balance.

“Left turn—oh snap—duck!” He crouched just in time to clear a low-hanging pipe, laughing to himself as he zoomed under it. “Man, Raph’s gonna be so mad he missed this lap. I’m on fire tonight!”

His orange bandana tails fluttered behind him as he twisted around a support beam like it was a slalom pole, the LED strips Donnie had installed in his board flickering blue under the filth-covered water. He was vibing. He was groovin’. He was—

“Oh SH—!”

Something was in the tunnel. Someone.

A shape lying across the floor just ahead. Human.

He jerked the board hard to the left and tried to jump it, but his wheels caught on the uneven stone. Mikey let out a strangled, “AAAAOHH NO NO NO—!” as he went flying off the board. His shell smacked against the wall with a loud crack, and he landed face-first in about three inches of nasty-ass sludge.

“Pppbbbttthh—GAH! Bleh! BLEH! That is not filtered water,” he coughed, spitting and flailing a little as he rolled to his knees.

Groaning, Mikey sat up, wiping his mouth dramatically on the back of his wrist and muttering to himself.

“Great job, Michelangelo. Nice save. Real smooth.”

He turned—and saw the body. A girl. Young. hair matted with grime. One arm bloodied.

Mikey froze. “…uhhhh—ma’am?” No response.

He slowly crawled closer, switching to full Serious Mode. “Yo, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. Raph will never let me live this down.” He reached out and gently turned you onto your side. You were breathing—shallow, but steady. Your forehead was bleeding, and your arm was torn up bad. Your clothes were soaked and filthy, and you looked like you’d been through hell.

Mikey blinked, taking a slow breath, then slapped a hand to the side of his shell and activated the shoulder com. “Uh, guys? We got a situation.”

Donnie’s voice crackled through almost immediately, irritated and distracted. “What kind of situation, Mikey? If you broke your board again—”

“No, dude, like, real situation. Human girl. Unconscious. Bleeding. In our tunnel.”

That got a pause.

Donnie (completely snapped out of it): “Where exactly are you?! What condition is she in? Is she conscious?! Bleeding? Breathing?”

Mikey (panicked): “She’s out cold, bro! There’s blood, she’s soaked, she looks like she fell down here or somethin’—and I literally tripped over her.”

Raph (muttering in the background through donnie’s coms): “You sure this ain’t some setup? Ain’t no one just wandering into our tunnels by accident.”

Leo (coming over commanding): “Location, Mikey. Now.”

Donnie (typing rapidly): “I’m pinging his tracker. Mikey, bring her straight to the med bay. Don’t wait. I’m prepping a crash cart. Apply pressure if she’s still bleeding, and watch for signs of head trauma.”

Mikey (picking you up and adjusting you in his arms): “Got it, got it—on my way, dudes. I’ll be there in, like… two skate-lengths and a prayer.”

Donnie (deadpan): “Not the time for jokes.”

Mikey (softly, glancing down at you): “…Wasn’t a joke bro.”

— — — —

Echoing down the hallway of the lair.

“MAKE WAY—HOT TURTLE COMIN’ THROUGH!” Mikey yelled, his voice bouncing off the tile walls as he sprinted in, feet splashing through puddles left by their leaky pipes.

You hung limply in his arms, arms scraped and limp, your face pale beneath a smear of blood and dirt. One of your shoes was missing. Your head lolled gently against his shoulder.

Donnie looked up from his desk mid-sip of something green and disgusting. His eyes locked on the girl in Mikey’s arms.

“Put her on the table. Now.”

Mikey didn’t hesitate. He darted toward the med bay corner of the lair, gently laying you down on the slab of reinforced steel they used for patching each other up after patrol.

Raph and Leo came in from the hallway, both mid-conversation until they saw you. Everything stopped.

Leo’s brows furrowed, mouth tightening. “Where the hell did she come from?”

Raph muttered something under his breath and stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he scanned the cuts and bruises on your arms and legs. “You sure she ain’t bait?”

Mikey threw your purse down beside the table. “Nah, bro, she’s not fakin’. I found her in the tunnel—straight-up unconscious. Almost busted my shell tripping over her!”

Donnie pulled on homemade gloves to fit his 3 finger hands all in one fluid motion, grabbing his med kit with the other. “I don’t care where she came from right now—if she’s bleeding, I need to stop it.” He clicked on a bright overhead lamp, illuminating your face. The light caught a deep gash across your temple, your arm torn open from the box cutter, still bleeding sluggishly.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Donnie muttered, already disinfecting your arm. “Laceration to the forearm… head wound, possible concussion…” He grabbed a saline bag from the cabinet and hung it above the table, expertly slipping an IV into the crook of your elbow. Raph flinched and looked away.

Leo folded his arms. “You think she fell?”

Mikey nodded quickly. “When I was lookin around she was under a broken ladder. Manhole cover was popped open. Looked like she might’ve slipped. I dunno. Could’ve been dumped there too.”

Donnie scanned your ID quickly from the purse, frowning. “Name’s Y/N. in her 20s. She’s local. No trauma kit, no flashlight, no tools. Doesn’t look like she came down here on purpose.”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “So she was chased. Or jumped. Or running from something.”

Raph stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyes not leaving your face. His voice dropped just a bit. “Well shes bleeding and looks scared even unconscious, dude. I don’t think this was planned. She was tryin’ to hide. Or escape.”

Donnie nodded slowly, placing a heart monitor sticker to your chest as he read your vitals. “No sign of internal bleeding. Pulse is low, but stable. She’ll live. But we need to be ready in case she wakes up swinging.”

Leo stepped closer to the table, glancing over your face with guarded curiosity. “She’s already in too deep.”

“She ain’t seen us yet,” Raph pointed out. “That’s what matters.”

Donnie double-checked the IV line and sighed. “Well… she’s gonna.” They all stood there in silence for a beat, looking at you—just a normal girl, unconscious in the middle of their hidden world.

Mikey scratched behind his neck. “Sooo… like… do we offer her pizza when she wakes up? Or just… explain the whole mutant turtle vigilante thing after she stops screaming?”

No one answered.

— — — —

“Alright… let’s see who we’ve got laying unconscious on our operating table in the middle of a sewer,” Donnie muttered, typing with one hand and swiping through your ID with the other.

He sat hunched over his workstation beside the med table, your file pulled up across three cracked monitors. The IV line hung steadily beside you, your chest rising and falling in slow, stable rhythm. Stitches lined your temple and forearm. You looked… peaceful. For now.

Leo stood nearby, arms crossed, still on alert. Raph leaned against the wall, chewing a toothpick, watching you with narrowed eyes like you might go feral at any second.

And Mikey? He was sitting cross-legged right next to your table with your phone in hand—already unlocked. How? No one knows. Mikey magic.

“OHHH she got Spotify taste,” he grinned, flicking through your playlists. “Got sad girl bangers, okayyy. R&B, throwbacks, a lil ‘Cry in the Shower at 2AM’ playlist action—yo, same.”

“Michelangelo,” Leo warned, “maybe don’t scroll through her personal life.”

“Too late,” Mikey snorted. “Oh! Selfies. Yo she cute. Donnie, pull up her Facebook or LinkedIn or whatever boring adult site you use.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “Already ahead of you. Very normal civilian stuff by the way.”

“Okay, okay but hold up,” Mikey said, angling the phone toward Donnie with a smirk. “Look at this one tell me that’s not a ‘just got ghosted and pretending I’m fine’ pic.”

“Mikey put the damn phone down” Raph snorted. Leo shook his head, muttering something about children. Then Donnie’s screen beeped. “Vitals just spiked—heart rate’s rising.” Mikey leaned forward. “Think she’s wakin’ up? Before anyone could answer, your eyes fluttered open. You stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly, brain foggy—concrete? Arcade vibes? Pipes? The hell?

Your lips mouthed the words before your voice even caught up: What the fuck…?

Then you turned your head. And saw them.

Four. Giant. Mutant. Turtles.

Your mouth opened wide, and this time, sound did come out. “WHAT THE FUCK!!” Your scream shot through the lair like a sonic boom.

Mikey’s eyes went wide. “Aw, hell.”

You jolted, panic flooding your veins, and tried to sit up—too fast. The sudden motion ripped the IV from your arm.

“Wait—don’t—!” Donnie reached for you. Too late.

You screamed again, instinct taking over. You shoved at Mikey and tumbled off the side of the table, legs hitting the floor hard. Blood immediately started soaking through the bandage on your arm—your stitches had torn open.

“Shit, she popped her sutures!” Donnie snapped, grabbing gauze.

“Don’t come near me!” you cried out, breath heaving, trying to crawl backward across the floor. You were half-delirious with fear, eyes wild, your back to the wall and blood dripping down your elbow.

Leo stepped forward, both hands raised calmly. “We’re not gonna hurt you, okay? Just breathe.”

“You’re turtles! TALKING WALKING GIANT TURTLES!”

“I mean, technically mutants, but yeah, fair reaction,” Mikey muttered.

“I—WHAT—WHERE AM I?!”

Donnie crouched slowly, staying low. “You fell. You were unconscious. We treated your wounds. We’re not the bad guys, we promise.”

“I knew I should’ve called an Uber.” you spat, heart racing. You backed into the nearest wall, chest heaving, eyes darting between them all. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to form words but completely failing. Your brain couldn’t make sense of anything.

Leo stepped forward, hands raised in calm. “Hey—it’s okay.”

You blinked fast. “I’m dreaming. This is a dream.”

“It’s not,” Donnie said flatly, already pressing gauze to your arm as you flinched back.

“I fell,” you whispered. “Into the sewer…”

Mikey popped his head around the table, flashing a grin. “And now you’re in our crib. Surprise!”

You stared at them. “You’re turtles.”

“Yup.”

“And you talk.”

“Yup.”

“And you gave me stitches…?”

Donnie gave a tired nod. “And saved your life.”

You stared in silence, stunned. “I knew I should’ve listened to my mother about moving here…This city is insane.

Donatello didn’t pause, already peeling open another gauze pad. “Welcome to New York.” Raph groaned out.

You winced as he gently pressed it against your arm again. Your stitches had definitely ripped—fresh blood seeped through the bandages.

“Try not to move too much this time,” he murmured, voice steady, clinical. “You tore the internal ones, too. Gonna have to redo all of it.” You blinked at him, still panting a little. “You’re… really calm for a guy stitching up a human girl in the sewer.”

“I’ve had practice,” he said, flicking his eyes up to meet yours for just a second. “Also, you’re not the weirdest thing I’ve patched up down here.”

Mikey leaned over the table from the other side, smirking. “One time Raph literally fell into a dumpster full of kitchen knives.” Raph scoffed from across the room. “They were chef’s knives, not swords. I walked it off.” Leo cut in smoothly, stepping closer. “You fell into our territory, but we couldn’t leave you out there like that.”

Your eyes flicked to him. His voice was calm, grounded. It helped. A little. “You saved me?” you asked quietly. Donnie nodded. “You fell hard. Likely from the surface, You were unconscious. Arm sliced, head trauma. You’re lucky Mikey found you when he did.”

Mikey puffed his chest. “Turtle timing, baby. Sewer guardian angel at your service.” You let out a breathy laugh—half from disbelief, half from exhaustion.

“You’re serious? You’re actual mutant turtles? This is real?”

Leo held your gaze, quiet but sure. “We’re real. And you’re safe. Again we’re not gonna hurt you.”

Donnie was threading a needle now, his gloved hands precise and practiced. You watched, stomach twisting at the sight of it, but his tone was soft.

“This part’s gonna sting,” he said. “I’ll be quick.”

Mikey leaned in again, whispering dramatically like a kid in church. “Think about food dude, that’s what calms me down. Especially the dishes you can’t pronounce.” You bit your lip, a chuckle escaping despite yourself.

“Shh,” Donnie muttered without looking up. “I’m calming her nerves,” Mikey defended. “Therapy turtle over here.”

You let your head fall back gently against the wall behind the table, eyes fluttering closed for just a second. It was so surreal. You were in some kind of hidden underground lair, surrounded by four humanoid turtles—one of whom was stitching your arm together like it was no big deal.

Leo stepped beside Donnie, speaking to you gently.“My name’s Leonardo. That’s Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael.”

You looked between them, swallowing hard. “You’re like… superheroes or something?”

Raph gave a small shrug. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Emphasis on the ‘or something,’ we’re ninjas who do cool ninja stuff with cool ninja weapons” Mikey grinned doing a classic karate pose with his nunchucks.

Donnie tied the last stitch off and taped fresh gauze over your arm. “Done. Again.”

You glanced at him. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked up for a second. “You’re welcome.”

You sat there for a beat, just breathing, the ache in your head slowly dulling under the hum of old lights and distant city rumbles from above. The brothers backed off a little, giving you space.

Mikey pulled up a rolling chair and spun it once before plopping down. “Sooo… now that the panic’s subsided—what’s your favorite pizza topping? It’s a personality test. Don’t mess it up.”

You raised a brow, caught between laughter and disbelief. “…Are you seriously asking me that right now?” He gave you an exaggerated nod, full grin. “It’s life-or-death.” You actually laughed this time. Despite the pain. Despite everything. It felt ridiculous. But also… safe.

Weirdly safe.

— — — —

After a while, the room quieted. You were sitting now, leaned back against the wall, sipping from a water bottle Mikey brought you in a reusable Batman cup.

Your arm was bandaged properly. The pain in your head had dulled to a manageable throb. They let you breathe. But the air still carried tension—like something hadn’t been said yet.

Across the lair, Donnie was tapping away at a holoscreen rigged from old tech, fingers flying faster than any normal person could keep up with. Lines of code danced behind camera footage, gray-scale clips of alleys, rooftops, street corners.

Leo stood nearby, arms crossed, watching in silence.

You glanced over. “You guys looking for something?”

Donnie didn’t turn. “Trying to figure out how you got down here. None of us were topside when it happened.”

Raph scoffed under his breath. “Mikey found you laid out at the bottom of a tunnel like somebody dumped you.”

That made your heart skip.

“I-I fell,” you said. “I ran and climbed down a ladder—I think. But I slipped. I hit the ground and… I don’t remember much after that.” Donnie rewound a clip. Froze it. Then narrowed his eyes.

“There,” he muttered, pointing. Leo stepped in closer. You pushed yourself up off the wall, walking, limping, over slowly. The footage was from a traffic cam positioned above a building on Delancey. It caught the alley behind your restaurant—grainy, but clear enough to recognize your form sprinting into frame.

A tall figure chased after you. Hoodie up. Fast. He cornered you behind a dumpster—but the camera angle cut off what happened next. Another clip—street-level—showed you stumbling out the other side. Your arm already bleeding. You were gripping it as you bolted down the street, disappearing toward the manhole cover.

Donnie sighed through his nose. “Whoever it was didn’t follow her after that. But it looks like the guy caught up to her for a few seconds, but the weird part? He didn’t try to follow her down. He stopped at the curb. Like he gave up.”

Leo’s jaw flexed slightly.

You stood still, feeling your throat go dry.

— — — —

Later, you sat on the edge of the couch feeling both grounded and disoriented.

You had no idea what time it was.

You looked up at Donnie. “Am I okay to go home?”He hesitated, running one more scan over your arm with a handheld device. “No concussion signs now. Stitches are holding. I’d say you’re cleared for travel. But no work. No strain. And absolutely no getting chased through the streets for at least 72 hours.”

You gave a faint laugh. “Deal.”

Leo stepped forward without a word. “I’ll take her.”

You blinked up at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “But I want to.”

You said your thank yous and goodbyes to your new…friends? You followed Leo through the tunnels, and this time he moved slowly for you, making sure you’d keep up. You limped a little in your pace behind him until you reached a vertical shaft with a metal ladder leading up.

Leo glanced at it… then looked over his shoulder at you with a small smirk. “You afraid of heights?”

You blinked. “…Maybe?”

“That’s too bad.” He turned around fully and crouched picking you carefully up bridal style.

You hesitated, unsure what to think.

He glanced at you again, that faint humor still in his voice. “Well do you wanna walk streets, or you wanna ride a rooftop tour through New York?”

“…Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. It’s faster. And more fun. Unless you puke.”

“…Do people puke?”

He didn’t answer. Just smiled at you.

You clung your one good arm around his thick neck tighter than you expected, and with one smooth motion, he launched the both of you straight up, pushing off the walls until he hit the top and jumped to a rooftop. The air outside was brisk, cooler now in the early morning hours. The city lights were still alive, but quieted. Without warning, Leo sprinted and jumped—full speed—across the first rooftop.

You gasped, instinctively gripping tighter. “OH my god—” He landed smoothly. “Relax. I’ve done this a few times.”

“A few?!”

Another jump. Another landing. Your stomach dropped, but your trust didn’t. The skyline blurred past. The rhythm of his footfalls against concrete rooftops was steady, controlled—like he was born to move this way.

Eventually, he slowed, crouching behind a large air conditioning unit near the back of your apartment building.

“This is you, right?”

You nodded, still breathless. Leo carefully lowered you to your feet and stood up straight.

You hesitated before speaking. “So… will I see you guys again?”

He looked at you, expression unreadable. But something flickered behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Donnie already got all your info.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait—how?”

Mikey’s voice echoed in your head: “He’s like the FBI.”

Leo gave a small shrug. “He’s thorough. We’ll check in at some point. Just to make sure everything’s good.”

You smiled gently. “That’d be nice.”

He nodded, then added, serious now:

“And please—don’t tell anyone about us. Not your family. Not your friends. We’re not… supposed to be known. People don’t always react well.”

You nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. “I won’t. I promise.”

He gave one last look over your shoulder at the apartment behind you, as if scanning the shadows for trouble. Then, with a slight nod, he stepped back, turned—and disappeared over the edge with a clean, silent leap.

You hurried to the rooftop edge and peeked over. He was already two buildings away—running, then jumping to the next, like a phantom weaving through the skyline.

Gone. Just like that.

— — — —

You closed the apartment door gently behind you, clicking the lock into place. The moment it shut, your shoulders slumped—your whole body feeling like it weighed three times more than usual.

Your right foot throbbed with every step, and your arms were starting to ache—bruises forming from your fall, and from the impact of crashing into god knows what in the sewer.

You limped across the small apartment, your breath catching as you passed the hallway mirror. You looked… rough. Dirt smudged your jaw. A rip in your jeans. A dried line of blood still clung to your forearm bandage from where Donatello had stitched you up.

You exhaled, just trying to hold it together.

No tears. Not yet.

You made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness. You didn’t want to cook, didn’t want to think. But your stomach was still growling softly, like it hadn’t noticed the trauma your body had just endured.

You poured a bowl of cereal. Something easy. Sweet. The crunch echoed through the silent apartment as you sat at the counter, spooning it slowly, one bite at a time. Each chew grounded you, made things feel… a little more normal. Like if you focused on just eating, you could pretend everything else hadn’t just happened.

Your phone sat silent on the table next to you, and for a moment you stared at it before tapping it to see what time it was. 4:46am. It read on the screen. You sat longer thinking if you go to bed and wake up. will it all have been a dream?

After a few minutes, you stood with a groan, wincing as you moved to the bathroom. You took two melatonin gummies from the cabinet, chewing them absently before brushing your teeth and wiping your face with a damp cloth cleaning the dried dirt and blood off of yourself.

The bed was calling you. Your whole body begged for it. You grabbed a clean t-shirt and a pair of soft sleep shorts from your dresser and limped your way to the bed. As you pulled the covers back, you paused—just for a second.

The image of Leo jumping rooftop to rooftop flashed through your mind. The way Mikey had carried you in like you mattered. Donatello’s precision and calm focus as he treated your wounds. Even Raph’s looming presence—cautious, but protective.

You’d never met anyone like them.

You’d never imagined something like them.

And now they were a part of your life… somehow. You slid beneath the sheets and turned off the lamp. The city buzzed quietly outside your window, but in here… it was still. Warm. Safe. Your eyes slowly closed.

And you drifted off to sleep with the faint scent of the sewers still clinging to your hoodie and the memory of four giant mutant turtles burned into your memory.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —