Big Red Man

You stand in front of your full-length mirror, clad only in your underwear, holding a dress. It’s too tight across your chest, making it look cartoonish. It clings stubbornly to the soft curve of your stomach, outlining a shape you’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide. Your hips, your thighs—it’s all too much.

A disgusted groan escapes your lips, and you hurl the dress onto the growing pile of clothes that litters your bedroom floor. You stare at the mess, at the mountain of fabric. You tried on dresses, jeans, blouses, sweaters—nearly every piece of clothing you own—and deemed each a traitor.

Because nothing fits, nothing feels right. Every item you tug over your body makes you feel like you’re pretending to be someone else. Someone smaller, someone neater, someone more “acceptable.”

You stand there in front of the mirror and try on another dress. It looked so promising in the store: soft and flowy, with little embroidered flowers on the sleeves. But now, under the unforgiving glare of your bedroom light, you see every flaw it accentuates. Your throat tightens.

You know you’re not supposed to feel this way. Inches and size tags don’t determine worth. You’ve repeated those mantras in your head a thousand times. But right now, all of that wisdom feels distant, like a song playing in another room. Muffled. Unreachable.

Your eyes sting, and you blink hard, refusing to let tears fall. Because crying over a dress feels stupid. Weak. And yet, your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You were supposed to be at the lair ten minutes ago for a special date night with your boyfriend, Raph. You were going to eat pizza and watch old action movies until dawn—and maybe do other less wholesome things between flicks. The thought had filled you with a giddy warmth all day.

But now, that has curdled into a hot, angry frustration that’s directed squarely at yourself.

This shouldn’t be so hard. But why can’t one thing in your wardrobe just … work? Why can’t you look in the mirror and see what he supposedly sees?

The anger gives way, as it always does, to a wave of crushing sadness. Your shoulders slump, and a single, hot tear escapes and traces a path down your cheek. Then another. Soon, you’re sinking to the floor, dress still clutched in your hand. Your body shakes with quiet, miserable sobs. You’re not just crying about the clothes anymore.

You’re crying because you feel unworthy, unattractive, and utterly hopeless. Unworthy of the adoration he gives you.

“Why the hell did I even think I could look good?” you whisper through your tears. “I hate this. I hate how I look. I hate everything.”

A sudden thump on your fire escape jolts you from your misery. Your heart gives a frantic leap, a mix of panic and relief. It’s followed by a familiar, rhythmic tap on your windowpane—two quick knocks, a pause, then one more. His signature.

You hastily scrub at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, sniffing hard to clear the blockage in your throat. “One second,” you call out, your voice a wrecked, wobbly version of itself.

After you slide the window open, Raph ducks inside. “You okay? You didn’t show, and I got worried.”

He takes in the pile of rejected clothes, then his gaze lands on you—standing there in your underwear, holding a dress, with tears streaming down your face. His tough-guy demeanor melts away in an instant, replaced by a deep, furrowed concern.

“Hey, hey, whoa. What’s this?” he asks, his voice dropping to that soft, protective tone he only ever uses with you. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Did someone hurt you?” His voice hardens on the last three words, a dangerous growl lacing the question.

You shake your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. You gesture weakly at the clothes, then at your own body. “I … I can’t,” you choke out between choked sobs. “Nothing works. Nothing fits. I look … disgusting. But I just wanted to look pretty for you.”

Raph’s expression morphs from concern to baffled disbelief. He glances at the clothes, then back at you, a frown creasing his brow. He leans down, bringing his face level with yours despite the massive height difference. His thumb comes up to gently wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Disgusting?” he repeats, the word sounding absurd and offensive in his mouth. “Are you kiddin’ me right now?”

He takes the dress from you and tosses it aside. His large hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there with a firm, possessive gentleness. His gaze isn’t judgmental; it’s full of a raw adoration that makes your breath catch.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice firm but laced with kindness. You hesitantly lift your tear-filled eyes to meet his. “You think I give a damn about fabric? I care about you. And you …” He shakes his head, as if searching for a word big enough for the feeling. “… are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You open your mouth to argue—to list all the reasons he’s wrong—but he continues, not allowing you the chance to protest.

“No. Don’t even start. You know how I feel about you.” His eyes travel over your body with genuine appreciation. “I love this.” His hand slides up your side, over the curve of your waist and ribs. “And this.” His gaze lingers on your stomach with open affection. “I love that you’re soft. That you’re real. When I wrap my arms around you, I’m holding a whole woman.”

He looks at your chest, and a smirk plays on his lips. “And you’re seriously gonna stand here and tell me you’re upset about these? Sweetheart, I could write poetry about them. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How you fill out a simple t-shirt in a way that drives me crazy?”

Your sobs have slowed to watery hiccups. He’s not saying these things to make you feel better; he actually sees you this way. It’s written all over his face.

“I don’t want some perfect doll,” he continues, his voice lowering into an intimate rumble. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “I want you. I want your loud laugh. The way your nose crinkles when you’re trying to figure something out. I want the way you feel when I pull you against me in the middle of the night.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “All of you. Every single, perfect, beautiful inch.”

He steps back and scans the room, his eyes landing on a pair of black leggings and one of your biggest, comfiest sweaters draped over a chair. He picks them up. “Here,” he says, holding them out. “Put these on. I don’t need you in some fancy dress. I want you to be comfortable because I just wanna hang out with my girl.”

You nod, still a little dazed, and take the clothes. As you pull the leggings on, he respectfully turns around, giving you a moment of privacy. Then you pull the oversized sweater over your head. When you’re done, you touch his arm. He turns back around, and his eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face.

“There she is,” he says, his voice brimming with warmth. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “The most beautiful woman in New York City. Hell, the universe.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re such a sap.”

He grins. “Only for you, baby girl.”

You pull back enough to meet his eyes, your hand resting over his chest where his heart beats hard and steady beneath his plastron. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

“I know you are,” he says without hesitation. “And if anyone’s too blind to see that, I’ll punch ‘em. Simple.”

“But I don’t feel beautiful.”

“Then lemme remind you,” he murmurs.

He draws you into his embrace, his enormous arms curling around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You sink into the familiar solidness of him. His scent wraps around you like a blanket. He holds you like he’s shielding you from every cruel thought in your head, like his arms can protect you not just from the world, but from yourself.

“Better?” he murmurs against your hair.

You nod, your cheek pressed against him. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Good,” he says, his voice rumbling low. “But I’m not lettin’ up till it’s more than ‘kinda.’ You deserve better than that.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, and you hate that he can see the lingering doubt in your eyes. But he doesn’t flinch from it; he meets it head-on. “I don’t care if it takes one night or a thousand. I’m gonna keep tellin’ you. Keep showin’ you,” he says. “Every day. Every chance I get. You’re not just beautiful—you’re mine. And I’m damn lucky for it.”

You manage a chuckle. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”

He smirks. “What, you want me to tone it down?”

You snort. “Nah. I like sappy Raph.”

“Don’t tell the others, though. I have a reputation to protect.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Your secret’s safe with me.” You fall quiet again for a beat before you glance at the clock, seeing the time. “Date night’s kinda shot, huh?” you murmur, guilt creeping in.

“Are you kidding me?” he says, tightening his grip on your waist. “It’s the best one yet. Got to see your face, hear your voice. You let me be there for you. That means more than any pizza or movie.”

“But I ruined it. I made you come all the way up here and … and I’m a mess.”

Raph scoffs. “A mess? Sweetheart, you call this a mess? I’ve seen Donnie’s lab after an all-nighter. That’s a mess. This is just … laundry day gone wrong.” He gives you a small, lopsided smile that makes your heart ache in a good way.

He steps back, his hands finding yours and lacing his fingers through them. His grip is firm, grounding. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he says, his gaze serious. “You just hit a wall. Happens to the best of us. Even me.” He says it with such a simple certainty that you believe him. He pulls you gently, taking a step towards the open window. “So, new plan. We’re getting out of here.”

Your eyes drift back to the hill of clothes. “But … all of this …” you start, your voice trailing off. The sheer scale of the disaster feels overwhelming.

“Forget it,” he says immediately, his voice so firm it leaves no room for argument. “We can deal with it tomorrow. Or the day after. Or I’ll come by and just stuff it all in a bag for you. I don’t care.” He squeezes your hand, drawing your attention fully back to him. “It doesn’t matter. Right now, you matter. The clothes can wait.”

After a few moments, his practical side kicks in. “You got your keys? Phone?”

You shake your head, still a little dazed by the sheer force of his care. You move automatically, plucking your phone and keys from the nightstand where you’d tossed them hours ago. When you’re ready, he leads you to the window and helps you out onto the fire escape.

The cool night air is a sudden, welcome shock against your tear-warmed skin. It feels good. Cleansing. He slides the window shut behind you, sealing the chaos of your bedroom away.

“Let’s go home,” he says, and the way he says it—like the lair is your home, too—makes another wave of warmth spread through your chest.

With his hand on your back and the city lights blurring below you as you travel across the rooftops, you feel like you’re finally leaving the mess behind. Not just the one on your bedroom floor, but the one in your head, too. And you’re not leaving it alone.

It’s dumb. He’s dumb, acting like this, scuttling from the room every time you enter and burning from the inside out whenever you get too close. And what’s worse, everybody else has noticed - Splinter, his brothers, April, even Casey fucking Jones. Everyone but you. 

He knows it’s only a matter of time, though. You’re gonna notice, you’re gonna know, and then what? What the hell was he supposed to do, then?!

“Raph?”

He doesn’t yelp, but he does drop the dumbbell, only managing to yank his toes out of the way by a stroke of sheer luck.

“Shit, sorry!” You’re standing in the doorway to the dojo, a hand pressed to your chest and an apologetic expression on your face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Ya didn’t!” You did, but Raph’s not about to admit that. “I just - “ His brain works overtime to come up with some excuse that will grant him an easy escape from your soft gaze, his heart climbing into his throat at the sight of your easy smile. “I forgot it was my turn to patrol, that’s all, so I should really go and… do that.” He shoots to his feet, shoulders twinging at the pull of well-worked muscles, and tries to flee while he has the chance. 

He’s careful not to inadvertently brush against you on his way out, ready to blow out a breath of relief when he manages the task with nothing more than a lungful of your scent and the sensation of his heart somersaulting into his throat, when your voice stops him in his tracks.

“Would you mind some company?”

If you weren’t already in earshot, Raphael would have cursed. You were the last person he needed to be around right now.

He turns to face you. It would be easy to say no, to brush you off with some flippant excuse about patrol being too dangerous, but then he gets a good look at your face.

You’re not an idiot. You’ve noticed that things have been tense between you for the past couple weeks - he’s caught the glances you’ve sent him, the worried furrow of your brows and the confusion in your voice whenever he’s brushed you off. You look worried now - worried and hurt, damn it - but you’re trying hard not to show it.

Raph holds back a sigh. He’d never meant for his avoidance to hurt you, but it was clear that it had. 

“Might be boring,” he warns you, but the invitation is clear in his voice and the smile it nets him makes the brash turtle forget why he’d been trying so hard to avoid you in the first place.

“Boring? With you? Never.” His heart flips at your words, his cheeks running hot beneath the warmth of your gaze.

“C’mon then,” he mutters gruffly, struggling valiantly to ignore the quake in his stomach as you fall into step behind him.

It’s harder to ignore the looks on his brothers’ faces as he stomps through the lair with you shadowing his footsteps.

“Goin’ on patrol,” he grunts, ignoring Mikey’s playful smirk and the thumbs up he shoots his red-banded brother when your back is turned.

It’s harder to ignore Donnie’s voice trailing after you both, his confused, “But I already checked my security feeds! There’s nothing - “ interrupted by a pointed cough from Leo. 

“I’ll be back by sunrise!” Raph barks, inwardly wincing at how fucking obvious he is and marveling at how the object of all his turmoil doesn’t even seem to notice.

Your walk through the sewers is a silent one, awkward with growing tension despite Raphael’s attempts to ignore it. He can feel the weight of your gaze on the back of his head, his skin prickling with it, and though he keeps bracing for your voice to pierce the silence, it never does. You seem content to walk along behind him without saying a word, and somehow that makes Raphael sweat more.

He’s grateful to reach a manhole cover and even more grateful to feel the crisp night air against his skin when he wriggles it loose. Raphael leaps onto the deserted street above, filling his lungs with the familiar scents of asphalt and smog, and feels centered enough to offer you a helping hand without his heart going haywire.

You slip your palm against his with a small curl of your lips, your skin warm, fingers dwarfed by his own. All humans tended to be smaller in comparison to him and his brothers, but it never fails to hit him how truly large he is - how small you are - when you’re standing before him, neck craned to peer into his face.

It makes him want to tuck you away, shield you from the world and all the dangers he knows are in it, protect you, even as he sees those thoughts for the ridiculous feats of whimsy that they are. They filter to the forefront of his mind, anyway, drying out his throat and leaving behind a dull ache in the center of his chest, and he turns his face away from yours in a futile attempt to disperse them, using the momentary lull between you to search for the quickest access to the roofs above and settling on a nearby fire escape as your goal. 

It would be easier to carry you in his arms, but that would also give you a front row seat to the turmoil on his face, and so Raphael kneels on the cold concrete and gestures for you to hop up onto his shell.

Even with an extra barrier between you, it’s impossible to ignore your warmth as you clamber onto his back, and link your arms loosely around his neck. 

“Let me know if I’m squeezing too tight,” you tell him, your voice soft. Your scent is overwhelming now, tinged with rainwater from the storm that had hit earlier that day, and Raphael struggles not to breathe too much of it in as he launches himself up the fire escape. 

The wind buffeting against his body as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop fails to muffle your soft gasps and the rush of your breath against his throat, leaving Raphael feeling like his nerves have been struck alight. Your weight barely registers against his shell but he can still smell you, remnants of rainwater and smog doing little to dampen the scent that he’s come to associate as purely your own, light and tinged with the faintest traces of the soap you use. 

His heartbeat echoes dully in his ears as a warm flush settles in his cheeks. Raphael grits his teeth against the rush of sensation and muffles a curse as he nearly stumbles onto the next rooftop, his knees locking to prevent you from tumbling over his shell to the cold concrete below.

“We’ll take a break here,” he blurts, his voice suspiciously high-pitched. 

“That never gets old,” you laugh breathlessly, not seeming to notice, and slip from his shell with a rustle of clothing and the thud of your sneakers on concrete. Without thinking, Raphael reaches out a hand to steady you - you’re always a little wobbly after one of them carts you around on their shell. You smile in thanks, fingers chilled beneath his, and before the brash turtle can stop himself, he rubs his thumb along your cold knuckles, trying to work some warmth into them. 

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s doing, but once he does, Raphael tears his hand away from yours, mumbling a stilted apology and fleeing to the edge of the roof. His breath sits heavy in his lungs, his fingers curling into fists in a vain attempt to drive the sensation of your skin from his. His heartbeat drums in his ears, loud enough that he doesn’t notice the thud of your footsteps until you’re close enough for your voice to break through the cacophony of his own spiraling thoughts.

“Did I… do something?” Your voice comes out quiet, hesitant, and Raph nearly curses. He’s hurt you - he keeps hurting you - and avoidance isn’t gonna help him this time. There’s nowhere to go, no excuses that would chase that look of hurt from your face. He needs to stop running. 

“It’s not you,” he grits out, slumping against the edge of the roof and hanging his head. He’s afraid to see the look on your face when he finally comes clean. “I’m just so - so nervous around ya.”

“Raph.”

Raph hears the catch of your breath around his name and plows on, knowing that if he stops now he’ll never get the rest of it out. 

“It’s like I can’t speak right or walk straight or act normal when you’re around,” he continues, and this feels like the most he’s talked in your presence in weeks. His mouth already feels dry. “Like I’m dizzy and warm and mushmouthed.”

“Raph.” There’s an urgency to your tone that hadn’t been there before, but Raphael merely shakes his head and pushes on, gaze boring into the concrete between your feet.

“My palms get sweaty and my heart starts drummin’ and I can’t think, and none of it is your fault, ya hear me? It’s jus’ me, and I’m sorry - “

“Raphael.”

Raph’s jaw snaps closed - not at the sound of your voice, but at the feeling of your hands wrapping around his and tugging them to you, your fingers - so much smaller than his - winding carefully through his.

“You’re shaking,” you tell him gently, and now that his attention has been drawn to it he can see that you’re right. His fingers tremble around yours, twitching fitfully within your hold, but as Raph works to chase the dryness from his mouth, he notices something that gives him pause. 

The fingers twined through his are trembling, too. 

“You’re shakin’,” he murmurs, surprised, and you laugh, your lips trembling around a smile. 

“Well, yeah,” you say, squeezing at his fingers. “Didn’t you know? You make me nervous, too.”

Raph doesn’t need to ask what you mean, not with your hands clasped with his and the warmth radiating from the depths of your eyes. Not with that tinge of cautious hope on your face. Raph’s worn that look on his own face a lot recently, and always around you. He knows what it means.

“What - ?” he murmurs, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “What do we do now?”

You take a step toward him, closing the distance between you. “Could I kiss you?” Your throat clicks around the words, your fingers twitching against his. Raph has never seen you so nervous, and the proof of it - proof that he isn’t the only one feeling this way - is enough to calm him.

Well, to a point.

“Yeah,” he blurts out, noticeably louder than everything else he’s said tonight. Warmth pools in his cheeks and Raph coughs, mumbling, “I mean. Yeah. Yes.”

Your smile is enough to drive away most of his embarrassment, and Raph waits with bated breath as you drift closer, your thighs bumping against his knees and your hands easing free of his own to curl around his cheeks instead.

It’s the closest you’ve ever been, and Raphael’s pulse skyrockets as your eyes slip closed and your lips purse. He doesn’t know what to do with his face or his hands or his thoughts, suddenly, and in a fit of panic he slams his eyes shut just as your face begins to blur before him.

And then -

Warmth. Softness. Your thumb trails just beneath his bandana, catching against the fabric, and Raphael makes a noise - unbidden, uninhibited, and utterly embarrassing - as you tilt your head and turn the kiss into something deeper. Hotter.

Electricity zings through his body as though he’s just touched a livewire, his fingers twitching against his knees before he finds himself wanting to - needing to - do something with them. Something like touching you. 

You hum as his palms settle on your hips, fingers catching on the hem of your coat. The sound goes straight to Raphael’s gut, his stomach shrinking into a tight, hot knot as your mouth parts against his, and unable to help himself, the red-banded turtle wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you against him.

You stumble at the abrupt movement, but only allow Raph to get out a breathless, “Sorry - “ before you’re surging forward and catching his mouth in another hungry kiss. He laughs against your lips, insomuch as he’s able to with your tongue in his mouth, and feels your chest shake against his own as you laugh along with him. Even as the kiss breaks, impossible to continue with the both of you snickering against each other’s mouths, you don’t go far, your arms wrapping around Raph’s shoulders and your cheek falling to rest against his throat.

“You could have just talked to me, you know,” you mumble.

Raph’s chin settles against your shoulder, his arms gently squeezing at your waist. “I know,” he admits, chastened. “I was just - “

“Nervous,” you finish, and Raphael chuckles.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“And now?” Your lips purse against his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, and that electricity surges through Raph’s blood again. “Still nervous?”

Getting stitched up by a pretty girl really had its advantages, at least that’s what Raphael thought. Donnie’s bedside manners weren’t the best and plus, each time you got closer to wipe blood away he got a phenomenal view.

“Don’t hit me with the ‘you should see the other guy’ because I’m seeing you and all I’m seeing is blood” He quite liked how annoyed you sounded, annoyed with that mix of scared. Concern etched onto your features. Raph did his best to not grin so much, especially when your hand rested on his jaw, the other dabbing blood off.

“But ya really should” It took only a second for your eyes to turn stern and for Raph to simply shut his trap. The quiet of the room didn’t bother him, he was still feeling your hands on his face, so when they had slid to his shoulders, dug into the stress, he couldn’t help but close his eyes.

A slow contended sigh left him, just as you leaned down against his ear.

Raph felt those soft lips there, the shape of a kiss against it. “Why do you insist on bruising up that pretty face so much?”

Leo

“Your position is stiff.”

She groaned, “Well I’m sorry I am not used to stretching like this,Leo.” she was barely able to keep her balance, “I don’t see why we can’t just train, I hate stretching.”

“Not stretching means you’ll hurt yourself when you do train.” he replies with a smirk, pushing himself from the wall he was leaning against to be by her side. One of her legs was bent closer to the tatami than the other, “Here...may I?”

“Please.” 

He gently placed his hands on her hips, forcing them down to the correct position, not without receiving a groaning in complaint from her lips, “There.” he smiles, “All good.” he kept his hands on her hips, fingertips touching the skin her t-shirt didn’t cover and his body buzzed immediately.

Leonardo yanked his hands away, backing until he was a good distance from her. And since she was so focused on stretching her limbs correctly she couldn’t see the current turmoil he was in. He rubbed his eyes, jaw clenched, ‘this is...very wrong she’s my friend, our friend.’ he thought ,’i can’t have these types of thoughts with her, I am the leader and I shouldn’t allow this to go on.’

“Leo.” she calls, meekly looking from her shoulder, “Leo is it normal for my ass to stay up like this?I--I think I’m stuck.”

What.

Leonardo blinked and to be fair, her ass was indeed way higher than the original position asked, “Its okay, relax your legs.” i’ll have to push her ass down slowly...shit. “Just, um,I’ll have to--”

“It’s okay, I trust you.” she smiled, “Just help me out.”

So he did, so very slowly, pressing his palms against the upper curve of her buttocks just a bit lower and he can feel the cheeks against her pants-- no, no absolutely not. She whimpered a little, which makes him pause, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she laughs breathlessly, “You have great hands for pushing old joints down,” her joke falls into his hearing channels like lead. The image of pulling her legs up to her shoulders while he absolutely pounded her with reckless abandon in the middle of the dojo takes it’s place inside his brain. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I-I...yeah, I guess I do.”

Raph

She just wanted to work out, there was nothing wrong in working out together or training together, right? She had to be able to defend herself when he couldn’t be around.

Never mind he was crushing hard on her. Never mind she was the second human that he has met and my God she was really not making it easy on him. First: it was the hug she gave when she entered the lair, then it was her changing into her workout outfit: black leggings and a tight tank top that hid nothing from him.

He had to take a deep breath before starting. It was a simple hand in hand combat, easy for him but not so easy for her. Her movements were stiff, not like her tits tho damn those jiggled a lot--focus. Focus for the love of God. In just a few minutes she was breaking a sweat, breathing hard, “Shit.” she supported her weight on her legs, huffing heavily, “I am really out of shape.”

“It’s fine, imma go easy on ya.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me.” she huffs again, “The harder the better.”

His brain short circuited. This is wrong. She was his friend, she doesn’t have feelings for him...and yet he couldn’t help but let his mind go down the good old gutter, especially since in her bent position he could see her cleavage and how nice her breasts looked. Fuck this was getting difficult.  “Maybe for me, but for ya it’s not doable pipsqueak.” joking helps the slowly growing boner from getting bigger. She groaned, long and deep in her throat he had to try and do anything but keep looking at her. 

“Raph,I won’t break if you go harder.”

Stop it.

“Really I’m not that fragile I can handle a good beating if it’s for training.”

Oh I’m gonna give ya a good trainin’ alright, just gonna pull down them pants to the curve of yer ass and spank ya so hard ya’ll be dripping down.

“Besides, you are my trainer and how could I not be able to handle you?”

God he was so fucked.

Donnie

She moved his old bo staff, the one he used when he was still a tot around, trying to twirl it in her hand only for it to fall to the ground with a loud smack, “Shit!Sorry!” she squeaked the moment he walked back with two bottles of water, smiling when she clumsily grabbed the wooden weapon back, “I tried to twirl it.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t hurt yourself?” 

“No just my pride.” she purses her lips, holding the bo staff to her chest, “You said you were five when you started training?”

“Yep,”

She looks at the length of the bo staff, it was about his actual height now, “With this?” he affirms it with a chuckle, while her mouth parts in surprise, “But...how?”

He shrugs, “Master Splinter taught us well.”

“Well, yeah I’m sure I am saying how...” she shrugs, “How you use something as big and long like this and not hurt yourself?”

Donnie froze, big and long? Hurt? What? His brain rattles a bit with the information that just left that pretty mouth and how it made his thoughts turn darker with need. Not in a bad way obviously, but he has been crushing on her for...months now and to hear something like that leaving her lips was clouding his judgement in a way it shouldn’t happen.

“Because,” she used both hands to hold it loosely, tossing the bo staff upward then letting it slide between her palms, “It’s your size now and compared to me it’s huge.” 

Donatello laughs awkwardly, huge. Huge.

“It’s just...maybe I’m a bit frustrated I can’t use it as well as you did.” she sighs, “I mean I guess because you have practiced with it your whole life.” the whimper that left his mouth wasn’t lost to her, she arched one eyebrow in confusion, “Donnie?”

He was chugging down his water, way too fast, turning to face her with wide eyes, “Y-yeah??”

“...Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m so great!”

He was not.

Mikey

“See babycakes it’s not that hard, just let Mc Mikey show you how it’s done.” there was no better time to show off than when your crush asks you to teach her some cool moves. Aaand she was wearing cute shorts and an Avengers crop top aaaanndd she looked really cute and you could eat her right up.

“Okay!” she sat cross legged in front of him, holding her ankles in her hands, “Should I move away a bit?”

“Babycakes, of course now I want you to be up close and personal with the whole show.” he winks, unashamedly throwing a flirt here and there. Yeah, they were friends and yeah, maybe there’s a chance - albeir very small because hello~ - she didn’t like him the same way but that wouldn’t stop him.

She watched him move with admiration, her mouth parting “Wooaahhh,” she then stands to her feet when he’s finally done, “Can I try?”

“Sure babycakes.” he smiles, “But don’t hurt yourself okay? Nunchuks are weapons and they can really hurt.”

“How about I just spin them for a bit?” 

“Sounds good enough for me.”

So she does, keeping the wooden weapon at a safe distance from her face as she spun the opposite end. She hums, ‘”It’s really sturdy.” she begins, “And kinda easier to maneuver than I thought it’d be.” she stops the movement, pressing the two pieces together with a gentle ‘clack’ sound “I reall like it!”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she tests the weight of the weapons in her palms, “Heavy but not uncomfortable, I could hold this with my hand easily.”

Mikey’s nostrils flared. It shouldn’t be so sexual, it was just a comment but he couldn’t help but imagine her saying that to his--”And I think it’s beautiful, I love the little textures it has.”

Again, not helping the imagery going on in his stupid brain. Not helping at all.

“Haha, yeah, it’s...it’s cool.” the way she was holding it, with both hands and turning it into her hold, almost rubbing it was almost enough to make him bust a nut right there.

He casually leaned against the wall being supported by one arm while his legs crossed in a way it’d hide his crotch from view. Not that it help since his member was already sensitive enough to jump at the mere friction of his pants and legs.

“Also do you clean them? Rub some sort of oil to keep them shiny?”

His mouth acted before he did, “I’d love your mouth to.”

“What?”

“What?” the two stared at each other in surprise and Mikey, because he knew he shoved his own foot up his mouth, laughed forcefully, ‘MAN IT SURE IS LATE IM GONNA GET US SOME PIZZA OKAY BYE!”

Raph had never kicked so much shit under this bed in record speed. Of course this sleeping arrangement had to happen on the one day he hadn’t picked up his room.

And of course he had drawn the metaphorical short straw with having the girl of his god damn dreams bunk in with him.

You hadn’t even thought about it, as soon as everyone had settled into their spots you were left to wonder where you could sleep. Just as Raph was about to suggest his bed, with him finding some other spot, you agreed and told him the two of you could sleep together.

Together.

And thus here he was in a trance wondering if he should pull out more blankets and another extra pillow.

Chicks get cold a lot, no? April’s always complaining about being cold.

Was that weird?

“Any preference-“

“Are ya cold?”

You felt your arms, the loose too big tank top provided comfort and no overheating. Raph seemed concerned, you shrugged with a shake of your head. “I’m fine, um, left or right?” You asked with a motion of your finger. Raph for all intents and purposes could’ve just heard latin come out of your mouth. “Side of the bed? Do you like left or right?” Ohhh, of course sides were a thing.

Smooth, Raph, real fucking smooth.

He offered his side of the bed, something about it hopefully catching your scent made him jittery on the inside. You climbed on with a light bounce and settled under the blanket he had crochet himself, he liked how you ran your fingers over it with wonderment. “Wow this feels fancy and so snug” You wrapped yourself up more in the blanket and turned to face him. With a soft sigh to reassure himself he laid on his side, resting his eyes on your face.

“You forgetting something?” Came your amused voice.

“What? Ya want some warm milk and cookies?” He smirked when you smacked his arm playfully.

“Something tells me you fall a sleep with this often, huh?” You scooted up enough to reach behind his head to untie his mask. The act itself left Raph unable to breath, you were so close, close enough he could smell that perfume of yours.

So close he could see the shape of your chest in that flimsy sleep tank top.

He swallowed as you undid his bandana and casted it to the makeshift night table next to his side.

“There,” Your gaze lingered on him, green eyes that made your skin vibrate with curiosity. As you laid back down you kept your eyes on his own, you saw them shake slightly with worry as you continued to stare. Consciously Raph rubbed at his face, maybe he had toothpaste or something, or maybe you’re weirded out.

“You know, you’re very handsome” Your voice was a whisper, the sounds in the Lair had settled signifying that everyone was asleep.

Raph’s brow furrowed, that was an incredulous statement.

“Ya must be real tired” He chuckled lightly, the noise catching in his throat when he felt your fingers press against his lips.

“Take the compliment, Raphael” Oh, oh he quite liked his name leaving your mouth in that stern tone.

He liked your hand even more too.

The feel of your fingers running across his cheek, making a detour to the scar on his lip. “How’d this one happen?” You asked just as softly as you ran the length of it with the pads of your fingers.

Raph’s throat bobbed with how much he had swallowed in the past few minutes. They way you gingerly touched his insecurities had him gutted to no end.

“Training, when I was a kid” He wasn’t to keen on reliving the memory, he just wanted more of your hand on his face. His eyes betrayed him, fluttering when you continued your trek across his jawline. “Should I stop?” You weren’t sure if this was a bit much but with the way he shook his head ‘no’ you felt he was equally enjoying the caress.

Your fingers itch to touch more though, his massive arm was there, all rippling muscle and reptilian flesh. You let your hand travel to his shoulder, a foolish attempt to knead tension there but Raphael is literally a brick of muscle. The attempt made him grin, you clicked your tongue. “Efforts appreciated, don’t worry kid” You both chuckled some more before you let your hand settle on his arm, the bumpy burned flesh hidden away with a giant dark tattoo. Another question but for another night.

Raphael wasn’t sure what to make of these comforting touches, you’d always been keen on them but having them solely directed at him, while he laid in bed with you, well it all seem like a dream.

Simply too good to be true.

So when he snaked his hand out of the blanket and grabbed your hand, he wondered if you would recoil or pull away.

You did neither.

He felt your fingers drum on his palm, all perfect five digits against his three imperfect ones. He watched it, he savored it. “I’m cold” You whispered between the two of you.

“Do ya want that blan-“

“I want you”

In all his years on this earth, he never expected a sentence to rattle him, turn him on and ruin him all at once.

So when he saw you scoot closer towards him, felt your bare thigh connect with his knee and a hand rest on his chest, he was ready to have his heart broken by you. He could see the colors he’d never quite noticed that were sprinkled across your eyes, shades and hues only an intimate stare could provide, he felt an urge so palpable to grab you.

He only knew that was happening when you maneuvered his arm to wrap around your waist, face so close to his heartbeat, his snout connected with your hairline. He felt your soft breast against his hard plates, your fingers rub across where his clavicles would be, if he wasn’t such a freak.

Those thoughts seemed be put out like the wild fire they could be when you muttered against his chest for him to rub your back.

Under your shirt, he barely caught it but he did.

The process of pushing up your shirt had his mouth dry, the second his hand connected with skin, warm and soft and fragile.

God, he was already a little hard, this is going to be embarrassing.

He brushed his fingers, felt the little hairs on your skin, your flesh breakout in goosebumps as a pleasant shiver went through you.

And the image of that pleasant shiver being caused by him in many a many different way…

Your thigh rubbed against his own, the exhale of warm air against his plastron. You were settling, drifting against him as he threw caution to the wind and nosed your head. The scent, fuck that was going into his memory forever, he wanted to smell that every morning, every night, every second of his life.

He scratched your back a little more, going towards your bare upper back and you arched into the pleasant sensation with soft little sighs. What was happening, he didn’t know, he didn’t care. Why was this happening, he hoped it was because you shared the same feelings he’d been harboring for such a long time now.

When Raph chanced a look down at you, snuggled up against him, neck arched back and features between relaxed and flushed, he wanted to scream.

He wanted to fucking scream when your tired eyes fluttered open.

Your lips parted.

Felt your hand on his cheek.

Thumb run across his lips.

The way he leaned down the few inches necessary and let you take the reigns from there.

The kiss itself is unreal, he’s convinced he’s still in some fugue state and this is all an elaborate dream he’s gonna wake from to ruined sheets and sweaty scales.

But lips don’t mold that way in dreams. He can’t perfectly describe the plush softness of it as you melt against him in a sleepy but passionate kiss.

Walking into the kitchen, you pulled down a mug from the kitchen cabinet and started boiling some hot water on the stove. Rummaging through all the boxes of tea you had, you grabbed the chamomile tea pack. Grabbing some honey, you poured some of the sweet, golden goodness in the bottom of the cup and placed the tea pack onto, and poured in the hot water. Gripping the steaming cup, you walked back into the living room and gently handed the cup to April, who muttered her thanks and took a soft sip of the golden liquid. 

“Now, why don’t you tell me everything you saw, start to finish.” 

That incident happened a few days ago, and everything she had told you still lingered in your mind. A vigilante, in the city, fighting back against the Foot Clan? It almost seemed to unreal. No one dared step up against the Foot Clan, for fear of being targeted by them. But for some reason, you could believe it. Someone taking the brave step forward and fighting back, defying them when no one else would. I mean, look at what Eric sacks was doing. Putting all his money and resources into helping fight back against the Foot Clan. Or so he said he was. Like April, you knew him since you were a little girl. He kind of, rubbed off on you in the wrong way. He didn’t seem right. 

“Eric Sacks was so inspiring,” April said from in front of you. Glancing at her, you frowned and leaned forward as she continued talking. “I know this is a story that actually matters.” 

Vern glanced at her from the driver’s seat, and observed her, ignoring the way you glared at him in warning. He knew all to well that you knew he had a major crush on April. “The superhero one? That’s a good idea. I should chase that down.” 

You were about to snap at him to shut his mouth, before people began to run past the huge traffic jam, screaming and crying out in fear. ‘What the hell is going on?” You muttered, watching in concern as they ran past. 

“O’Neil! Where are you going?!” Vern yelled when April jumped out of the van and ran for the area people were running from.

“For fucks sake, April!” You shouted and jumped out and ran after her, bumping into people who ran past you. You followed the sight of her yellow jacket while grinding your teeth in irritation. You were in no position to be running at all. You and April had come from a big party that Eric sacks was interviewing at, and being the dumbass you were, forgot to bring a pair of shoes to change out into. So now you were stuck running in a pair of thick, ruby red round toe stilettos suede platform pumps. But, it was better than running in the dress you wore earlier. that would have been very uncomfy. 

Why you followed April, you don’t know. But you knew it wouldn’t end up good for you both. How did you know that? Cause you were currently being held hostage down in the subway tunnels with the barrel of an AR pressed into your back, threating to shoot you if you so much as moved an inch. From your place on the floor, you could see other people shaking in fear and crying slightly. Some people were bleeding from wounds, either shoot or hit super hard by a solider. 

“We know you’re out there!” A woman, who looked like the leader, shouted out into the empty tunnels, “If you don’t surrender, we start executing hostages!” 

An eerie silence echoed through the subway tunnels, and you swore you heard the sound of the train. You whimpered when the solider above you pressed the barrel closer into your back, breathing heavily over you as he kneeled down on your back, keeping you pinned down. The sound of a camera clicking made you close your eyes and wish for your death. If April didn’t kill you first. 

“All aboard!” You heard a voice shout, followed by laughter as the train whizzed past. All the remaining lights turned off above you, encasing you in darkness. The train blew past and you watched in shock and awe as four huge figures appeared from thin air and started attacking all the Foot Clan soldiers. Seeing a  chance, you kick your legs, knockings the Foot guy off of you. 

Scrabbling to your knees, you watched as one huge figure swung a pair of twin katana’s around, kicking and punching at soldiers, knockings them out. They moved so quick and fast, it was hard to keep up with their movements. you heard the click of a gun behind you, making you freeze. Turning around slowly, you found yourself starring right into the barrel of the gun with the Foot guy standing above you. Your blood roared in your ears as he slowly began to press the trigger, ready to spill your blood everywhere on the floor. 

But you watched in shock as one of the figures, the biggest one, appeared and threw the man into the wall, causing the tile on the wall to crack and fall to the ground. Gazing up, you watched in awe as the being, creature thing, turned to you, a pair of golden whiskey colored eyes looking at you before he vanished, the flash of a red bandana the only color you saw besides his eyes. 

“Gabriel!” April appeared and grabbed your hand, tugging you to your feet to tug you out of the subway as police officers showed up, seeing all the Foot clan soldiers tied up against the wall. Blinking in shock, you followed behind her, who ran behind the building where shouting and laughing from the roof. Pulling down the ladder, she began scaling it and you followed behind her, much slower than her. 

You had almost died. You would have been shot and you would have died as your blood spilled everywhere on the floor. But you didn’t. You were still alive, all because that guy saved you. The guy with the golden eyes and red bandana. He had saved your life then and there. And you were so grateful. 

“That was amazing! You were incredible!” 

“Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! This is our City! These are our streets!” 

“You mess with us, you step into the Wu, whoo, Tang!” 

“Ooh, yeah! Did you see that guy’s jaw connect with the concrete?”

“He’s gonna be drinking from a sippy cup for months!” 

“Ah, that’s what I’m talking about brothers. Like shadows in the night, completely unseen.” 

You froze when you saw a flash and the sound of April’s camera clicking on her phone. You stared at the three figures with there hands raised to do a group high five with the fourth guy standing on the side, all of them completely tiff at the sound and flash. You began to breath heavily when they started whispering harshly to each other. 

“Are we gonna kill them?”

“What?!” 

“With kindness of course!”

Panicking, you and April began to descend down the stairs, but a chain wrapped around your waists, pulling you both onto the roof. Groaning, you kneeled beside April, breathing softly as you hovered over her in a protective way. A shudder rippled through your body when a huge mass dropped down in front of you both, stance low. 

“Give me the camera.” A voice growled lowly above you. Shaking, you slowly trailed your eyes up from a his foot, up his leg and over his chest to look at his face, breathing picking up as emotions swirled in your chest, stomach tightening. This guy wasn’t human...

“Ooh, look, he’s doing his batman voice.” One of the other voices from behind teased slightly. You squeezed April’s hand when you saw a flash of gold eyes, striking a memory to flash before your eyes. Gold eyes....red bandana...

“Oh my god, their so hot, I can feel my shell tightening.” Another voice seemed to mutter next, making the guy in front of you growl and look over his shoulder at the other guy. 

“We can hear you!” He snapped and turned back around to face you both, watching as you both stumbled to your feet, gripping onto each other, “If you don’t give me the camera, I’m gonna...”  

“Enough!” 

Startled, you both whirled around to see another figure jump down from the water tower, katana’s held tightly in hand. “Back off Raph!” He growled lowly to the other guy. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he raised his hands and backed away from you and April, scoffing under his breath. 

“I only saw Batman once anyway.” He said, voice lightening up. 

“Ma’am,” Turning your eyes forward, you watched the guy jump down to your level, stepping closer. The light shined on him and you took in a sharp breath, seeing he was some huge, …turtle dude, with a blue bandana around his eyes with the tails resting over his shoulders. “Hello, I apologize. My colleague here forgot to say please.”

“Oh my god...” You whispered and stepped back when he slowly approached you both, blue eyes flickering between you two. 

“So, will you please, hand over the camera?” He asked kindly. Another body mass dropped behind you both. Startled, you both whirled around and April squeezed your hand, breathing heavily at the sight of another turtle, but he had a orange mask and baby blue eyes. 

“No, no, no, no. Whoa. Chill, it’s just a mask. See? Don’t freak out.” He laughed slightly and took off his mask, exposing a round green face with a bit of chubbiness in the cheeks. “Right?”  

“April!” You gasped when the woman went limp and passed out from shock beside you. You kneeled down beside her, checking to see if she was okay. 

“Miss,” Looking up, you paled a bit when you saw another turtle kneel down on the other side of April, with tech adoring his body and wearing a purple bandana over hazel colored eyes, “let me. I’ll make sure she’s okay. Trust me.” 

You nibbled on your bottom lip, starring at him as he starred back. You saw no evil or bad intent in his face. He truly wanted to hep April and make sure she was alright. Nodding a little bit, you stepped back, allowing him to hover over her and check so any sort of injuries she might have gotten from her passing out. 

“Is she okay?” You asked, biting the knuckle of your pointer finger as some sort of scanner washed over her body, mostly over her head and such. 

“She’s fine. She just passed out from shock.” He quipped, pushing the pair of glasses on his snout up a little bit more. You breathed out in relief, eyes closing a bit. Taking in a deep breath, you calmed your ragging nerves and the butterflies in your stomach, before opening your eyes to see four sets of eyes starring at you. 

“Are you alright Miss?” The blue turtle asked you, his katana’s rest on the back of his shell with the handles poking over his shoulders, no doubt so he could have easy access to grabbing them.

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, and he nodded, making you give out a shaky laugh and run your hands though your thick, curly hair and sigh softly. “I’m....peachy. I mean, this hasn’t been a very normal night so far. I’m trying not to freak out.”

“You seem to be doing alright miss.” the other turtle, the one who took off his orange mask, grinned at you and you gave a small smile in return, your heart slowly returning to a normal rate. These guys didn’t seem like they would harm you. 

“I suppose, for now at least.” You laughed weakly and wrapped your arm around your middle, looking back at April, before looking at them. “And uh, please, don’t call me miss or ma’am. Makes me sound old. You can call me Gabriel, or Gabby. everyone else does.” 

You all stood in a awkward silence, just waiting for April to wake up, which would hopefully be soon. Your eyes constantly flickered over them, taking in there appearances and how to they moved or stood around. You remembered about the turtle in blue asking for April’s camera. Shuffling on your feet, you grabbed April phone, and opened it with the password (which you obviously knew) and scrolled through them, finding the one of them. 

“I uh....deleted the photo of you guys,” You said and showed the guy in blue, since he seemed to be the leader, and he nodded a bit, brows scrunching up a bit like he was confused. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be seem or known, so...yeah.” 

“Why would you do that?” The guy in red grunted from his perch, golden eyes starring at you. you blushed under his gaze and looked away shyly, rubbing your arms through your jacket and shrugged. 

“Uh, think of this as thanks.” You said, earning confused looks from them all. Laughing, you tucked some hair behind your ear, shifting your weight to one leg. “You guys, down in the subway. With the Foot Clan soldiers. You saved our lives. April’s and mine. You guys saved out asses, and obviously, they aren’t gonna give thanks, so I am.” 

“Especially to you,” You looked at Red, making him blink a bit, startled as you turned your attention to him. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you.” You laughed and smiled at him kindly, “if it wasn’t for you, I’d have a bullet between my eyes and my blood would be splattered everywhere. You saved my life down there. Seriously. And...I can’t thank you enough. All of you.” 

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged and looked away, huffing under his breath a bit. But his eyes flickered back to you when you looked back at April, his eyes scanning over your briefly. Like what you did to him, he let his eyes trail from your feet all the way to your face. 

Red pumps, and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that showed how long and toned your legs were, and how wide your hips were. A black tank top with a black leather jacket over top to keep you warm in the cold New York air. Dark hair that looked like it had some red streaks in it. Bight eyes outlined in eyeliner, red and gold eyeshadow with dark eyelashes that brushed your cheeks and soft, plump looking red lips. A pair of dangly gold and ruby earring hung off your pierced ears, clicking softly as you moved. Rings and bracelets of gold adored your fingers and wrists, finishing off the splendid look. 

God, Mikey was right, you were hot.

You looked like a damn goddess as you chewed on your bottom lip again, flashing a pair of straight, white teeth. It almost felt unreal as he gazed at you, watching the way you chewed on your bottom lip in worry for your friend. Butterflies swirling in his lower stomach and he felt like his breath was stolen from him when you glanced at him, him of all people. 

When April groaned softly, you kneeled down on the opposite of Purple, eyebrows scrunched up a bit. “April? April can you hear me?” 

“Breathing steady. Blood pressure stabilizing.” Purple said as he flickered his goggles over his eyes as April groaned again and her eyes slowly began to flicker open to see you and the four turtles above her. 

“Why are we still here playing doctor?” Red grunted. 

“Because she may have a head injury Raph.” Blue muttered back.

“Uh, correction, she’s a hot chick with a even hotter chick, who may have a head injury. And it’s our our civic duty to help.” Orange corrected, grunting a bit when Red elbowed him hard in the side. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” Purple snapped his three fingers in front of April’s face as she opened her eyes wider, “can you hear me? Do you know what city you’re in? Do you know where you are?” 

“Have you seen the video where the cat plays chopsticks with the chopsticks?” Orange asked innocently from above. You couldn’t help but snicker when Blue pushed Orange away by the face.

“Guys, please! Come one, give her some air.” Purple scolded them as he removed his three fingered hand from her neck, as April looked at all four of them with wide eyes. 

“What are you?” April asked softly. Grinning, they all glanced at each other, before looking back at her and you.  

“Well, Miss,” Blue grinned and placed his fist into his palm and bowed his head at her, “uh, we’re ninjas.” 

“We’re mutants.” Red grunted as his head appeared over them. 

“Well. technically, we’re turtles.” Purple added in with the goggled still over his eyes. 

“Oh, and we’re teenagers! But we can still have, adult conversations.” Orange grinned as he waved is hand around, winking at you and April. Carefully, you pulled April to her feet, who looked at all four them closely, overserving and just watching them.

“You’re, ninja, mutant, turtle, teenagers?” She questioned, gripping your arm with a scrunched up face. 

‘That sound ridiculous.” You muttered under your breath.

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous!” Purple agreed with you, sounding almost offended at what she said. 

“See, she’s looking at us like we’re freaks,” Raph grunted and gestured to her confused face, voice hard. You frowned a bit at the tone of his voice, “I bet that’s why you took our picture, wasn’t it? Wanna show it off to your little friends.” 

“Dude, that’s a good thing. Maybe she has some other hot friends.” Orange whispered loudly to Red, who glared at him. 

“Relax out man. Miss, uh, Gabriel already deleted the photo. We have nothing to worry about. Problem solved, moving on.” Blue stepped in when Red jumped down from his perch, giving him a harsh glare.

‘And who put you in charge?” Red glared at Blue, both of them stepping up to each other, giving each other glares, red and blue clashing.  

“You know who did.” Blue growled at him, almost nose to nose as they glared at each other. You could feel the tension between them so much, you could cut it with a knife. 

“Ooh, tension. It’s been like 30 whole minutes since you guys had this argument.” Orange spoke up in amusement, baby blue eyes watching the oldest two glare it off. 

“Leonardo, if we want to make it home before Master, we gotta hustle.” Purple stepped up between the two before some sort of fight or argument broke out between them. 

“Leonardo?” April muttered the name softly under her breath. Breathing softly, Leonardo stepped up to you both, leaning down to your heights so he could mutter softly to you both. 

‘Do not say a word about this to anyone. If you do, we will find you, April O’Neil and Gabriel.” Leonardo warned them and stepped away from them, glancing at Red who scoffed a bit under his stern gaze. 

“We’re on the move, Raphael.” 

“Raphael?” You whispered his name, a sense of familiarity washing over you at the two names. Two Renaissance names. You watched him twirl his sais in his hands, before placing them onto his belt, whiskey colored eyes watching you closely. 

“Yeah! We’ll find you O’Neil and Gabby.” Orange grinned and walked away, but turned back around raising his hands a bit as he laughed slightly. “I’m sorry, that came across super creepy, okay? We will find you though.” 

The turtles took off, jumping across the roof and hollering. April grabbed her phone out of her pocket, which you had placed back, and ran after them, intending to get another picture. You followed her, watching as they did cool flips and spins. 

“I was on fire bro! Did you see me back there? Dudes, I totally talked to two girls!” 

“Shut up Mikey!” 

You smiled a bit as they vanished from sight, biting on your lower lip as you tugged on April’s arm to pull her back to your shared apartment. she was muttering to her self as she ran to her room, while you sat in the window of the living room, starring out at the City before you. 

Beautiful, whiskey gold eyes covered by a red bandana flashed before your eyes. Raphael. It kind of rhymed with your name. Gabriel. Raphael. Kind of cool. As you leaned back, you hoped, maybe you’d get to see him again. 

The turtle in the red bandana. 

The world outside of your blankets was dangerous and cold, you had forbidden yourself from leaving the cosy comforts of your fort. Yet that didn't stop the universe from messing with you. A loud bang clattered along the fire escape beside your living room window, the impact loud enough to reach your ears in the bedroom. Your breathing quickened at the thought of it being an intruder, but when the sound of light knocking came after silence, your breathing subsided.

Bellowing as loud as you could, knowing you'd get some angry neighbours in the morning, you waited for the sound of movement; which didn't take long. Raph easily lifted the window with one hand, whipping one thigh over the window ledge and onto the hardwood flooring. He let out a small squeal at the sudden coolness of your flooring, masking his outburst with a deep guttural cough, he continued until his body was fully inside.

Was it somehow colder in here than it was outside? The thought had crossed Raph's mind rather quickly, picking up the pace to find you, he checked the thermostat as he went. There's the problem, frowning Raph's large finger pocked and prodded the small dial forcing it to turn to a much higher temperature. When the dial stopped turning, Raph used more force, after a few short seconds the dial came off altogether in his hand. With wide eyes and a panicked frown, Raph checked you weren't around before jamming the dial back onto the wall.

"Everything okay in there, hello?" your heavenly voice called out to him. Raph had then realised he had never said anything to you, he just waltzed into your home broke your heating and remained silent like some warmth stealing thief. "Er, y-y-" his voice cracked as he spoke, coughing again to mask the imperfection he continued, "Er, yeah, don't worry 'bout it!" his voice was light but it was only to hide the fact that he had broken something of yours.

Now taking cautious steps into your room, a light smile lifted his face as he was you perched in your blankets like a cacoon. A t.v remote was by your side, while food wrappers and empty mugs laid on your bedside table. "Comfortable?" Raph teased, moving to stand beside your bed. You rolled your eyes at the comment, instead opting to pull the ring of blankets surrounding your closer to your neck. Taking that as your snarky reply back, Raph continued on, wanting to delve deeper into the problem.

"So what happened here? Miss Christmas already?"

"No," you huffed out, suppressing a shiver down your spine, "My heating blew out and the guy can't come and fix it until Monday." The disdain in your voice for this maintenance worker was very noticeable, especially with the harsh glare in your eyes. Taking in her form again with a clearer gaze, Raph's brain began to work, something Donnie chided would never happen. Goody two-shoes know it all Raph grumbled.

Leaning over your bed, Raph began pawing at your blankets. You shuffled away from him, your face contorting into the word offended, "What do you think you're doing?" you questioned with a pointed glare, how dare he disrupt your fiery kingdom. "Do you wanna be warm or what?" he groaned out, but soon smirked at your reluctance to answer his question with a straight face. Allowing him the luxury of pulling back the blankets, your body contorted into itself as soon as the bitter cold nipped at your skin, a whine leaving your lips.

"Quit ya whining like a puppy, just give me a minute!" Raph huffed out, gently laying down on your bed as to not break it. You felt the bed dip with his weight, your body rolling down to land beside him. He flipped the blankets into the air, smoothly wrapping an arm behind your shoulders as the blankets gently landed over you both. "See? Am I good or what?" he bragged, you shrugged your shoulders, body still shaking.

Raph growled at the shake of your arms, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to finally feel that body warmth he was willingly sharing with you. With his free hand, Raph grabbed the T.V remote and flipped through the stations finding something worthwhile. You, however, were gazing up at him, eyes sparkling with joy and love. "What?" he asked, his eyes catching yours for a moment more before flicking back to the T.V, "Nothing, just- thank you," you hummed, shuffling your head against his arm.

"Hey, I'm not just doin' this for you, y'know how warm you are to a cold-blooded turtle like me?" he joked, earning a giggle of laughter from you. Lifting yourself just enough to reach his neck, you began littering kisses along his skin, embracing the churr that rumbled from beneath his shell.