#donatello reader

Heated kisses and soft touches spread warm tremors all over your system, your breaths were quick and shallow to compensate for the pounding of your heart, as quiet, timid sounds left both you and your partner.

His thigh, from its position between your knees shoved into your center, perfectly hitting it, shooting electricity all over you.

"Donnie!" you mewled, out of breath, as your hot lips slapped agains his cooler ones, once more to show him instead of saying just how much you cherish him.

His unzipped khaki pants slipped lower and lower down his hips the more you shuffled in his lap, the more you rub his thigh between your legs, though you'd grown impatient and it was time you stopped playing around.

One of your hands left his neck to trail down the hard plates of his plastron, down over what looked like a killer six-pack, slowly, languidly, dragging your nails over the hard surface, feeling a soft audible vibration under your fingertips. Your fingers reached the rough fabric of his pants, down his briefs, lower still.

"Aah, babe"' his knee jumped again, his muscled thigh rubbing into your soaking panties once more. Thank god you'd forgone pajamas that night.

The warm, soft skin, softer than the rest of his body, under your hand made your mouth water.

His breathing lost all rhythm and meter, his hands on your hips now squeezed and kneeded, seemingly unable to control themselves. And the sounds he was making were making your insides melt.

"O-hooo, comet! Just like tha-aaahh!"

He sought you out, looking for stress-relief, and you were more than happy to provide it to him.

Your wrist moved your hand rhythmically, head to base, a smidge lower and back up, and the noises were intensifying as your mouth made busy at his neck, truly overloading his senses.

You wanted him to be well-satisfied but also get some sleep, so in between your lust-ridden thoughts, the need for efficiency made itself known.

Slight squeeze. Tug. Head. Base. Up. Down. Up. And again.

"Nnnhhh..." he had lost the ability to produce words, that usually meant he was close, that was your que to stop but before you could, "Mmhhh, (Y/N)!"

Hot.

Sticky.

Fuck.

Maybe you were a bit too efficient.

As he calmed down, and you sat up and pulled your hand out of his pants, you could see the panic start to settle on his face.

"Oh, my god, (Y/N), I am so sorry, I..." you could swear be would be blushing if he was capable.

You felt laughter bubbling but couldn't let it out, lest he take it the wrong way. He was too adorable for this world. Sure, strong, and brilliant and super sexy most of the time, but adorable too.

"Baby, it's fine." he seemed confused by that for whatever reason, you'd told him your expectations were low before him, "I take it as a compliment." you giggled, and yes, it did feel like a compliment, when this well-put together, sometimes stoic man lost his composure to you.

Some of his shame seemed to simmer down but the residue of it was still visible, he refused to make eye contact, the downwards tilt of his cupids-bow lips.

This won't do.

"Donnie, it's fine!" you stressed, grabbing the back his neck so he will look at you, "It happens! There's nothing to be ashamed of!"

"But you..." he either didn't know how or didn't want to finish that sentence for a reason, but as your eyes followed his to the wet patch on his pant leg, you caught his meaning.

Yep, that's an issue, but you could take care of yourself

"I'm fine, Don. I won't explode if I don't cum in the next few hours. And then," your fingertips dragged over the skin just above his plastron, "there's always time in the morning."

His eyes shot to yours immediately after. There was something else in those endless pits of gold, that wasn't there before. There was something raw and wild.

His hands on your hips, tightened around your skin, and a sudden vertigo hit your senses.

And you were on your back.

"No, comet." his lips trailed dizzyingly over your scorching skin, his large rough fingers rubbing into your waist, intensifying your need, "I've been brought up well." snap, there goes another pair of panties, but you could care less, "To show my gratitude."

Oh, fuck.

Even his breath on the base of your neck felt electric, his hands gliding over your thigh were flint to your inner world, waiting for a force of nature to level it with the earth.

Words were no longer needed between you, nothing you said would be coherent, and nothing he could say would be necessary. It was just your bodies talking now.

The thin hot shirt you were wearing was promptly removed, so was your bra and underwear, though you didn't much care how.

All that was left was the hot air in the room and Donnie's cool hands over your scorching skin.

There was an instinct in you to hold him close, though you somehow found it in you to suppress it. You wanted to see what he would do. How he would act when unconstrained. After all, it was with you that he could be boldly, entirely, truly himself, and there was no interest in you to stifle that boldness.

Wet, well-kissed lips trailed over your clavivles, down the notch in the middle, lower still between your breasts, where his tongue peeked out once or twice.

"Tease. " you giggle breathlessly.

"Game recognising game." he chuckled into your skin, hot puffs of air hitting you like a hailstorm.

His large hands finally, started sliding up your increasingly hot skin from your waist, up your sides, soft and gentle as if handling a fine work of art, over the sides of your ribcage and eventually covered your breasts.

Your back arched on its own accord, your hands jumping to the back of his neck, in desperate need to hold onto something.

"I've got you." he whispered into your skin, his thick fingers pinching both your nipples, hardly gentle but not painful.

He knew you well.

Suddenly his warmth was all gone, and you were left to the chilly air in the room.

Eyes shooting open, without realising they'd shut, you look over you - nothing.

A pinch at your inner thigh startles you, you look down and there he was, the smug bastard, with his head bowed between your thighs, quickening breath falling over the skin of your tummy and tickling the skin there.

You were going to ask how, but you knew the answer - he's a ninja.

You'd usually give him all the privacy he needed, he was shy sometimes but there was something different about that night, something far more raw and primal in him, perhaps the need to prove himself, that made you yearn for the sight of him there. With no thoughts in your head, just bare instinct, you grabbed at the messy bed around you until your hand landed on a pillow, which you pulled behind your back to prop you up.

Those same silky wet lips left a small path of kisses from your knee down towards your center, but not fully there, as you got ready for the night of a lifetime.

"Comfy?" he asks, voice muffled by your skin, as his eyes traveled up your trembling naked body.

"Very."

No sooner had you said that, his face was buried in your slit. A gasp of surprise startled your lungs as a soft kiss landed on your labia.

Then his tongue peaked out, so gentle it almost tickled. Then again and again, almost going in as your breaths quickened with every passing second. Then again, finally passing the barrier, the thick appendage shoving into you and pulling out at a speed you could hardly imagine.

And the sight of him, leaning over you, tongue-deep in your pussy, with a face of pure serenity, was mesmerising. He seemed so calm, so in-the-zone that just looking at him could make you cum on the spot.

One of your hands trailed down your neck, to one of your breasts, tweaking a hard nipple, pulling slightly, till a whine split from your throat, then slowly torturously sliding down your stomach to your clit.

You were just about to press on it softly, but a large hand pinned yours to your stomach, Donnie's eyes quickly training in yours.

His other hand, and it's dexterous fingers slid all the way up to your neck, up your jaw, to press at your lips.

Fuck.

Your lips split to take in his thick rough digit, licking, sucking on it, meanwhile the heat was building in your core, your muscles tightening and and clenching on empty, as soft whines and moans muffled into the pad of his thumb.

"Fuck, dove." he whispered into your slick skin, he sounded strained too. Your eyes opened to be greeted with the sight of him yet again, though you saw he'd grown tense, his breathing came in puffs around your center, as he relentlessly fucked you with his tongue.

His thumb pulled out of your mouth and dragged over the peaks of your breasts, before pressing down on the center of your pleasure.

Electric waves shot through your system, your legs cramping around his neck and the top of his shell.

"Donnie!" you cry, recklessly shouting his name into the air for anyone to hear.

"'m here, comet." his voice fell into your core, as his thumb started drawing small rhythmic circles into your sensitive bud.

Your back became an impossible arch and the sounds he pulled from you were truly obscene.

Just a little more.

"Donnie!" you whine, powerless to his assault on your senses.

"I know."

With no warning, his rough pad on your clit tripled it's speed, the shock of it pulling another scream from you, as the last air in your lungs left you. His movements were so fast and somehow gentle enough, they brought tears to your eyes.

So close

Just a little more.

"Aaah!"

Snap.

The muscles in your legs and stomach contracted, pulling clenching together, caging him close to you, so he could witness the results of his labor from up close.

Your lungs pulled and pushed sporadically trying to get a hold of themselves, your heart had stopped completely and your voicebox had gone fully silent the moment your jaw dropped, once you reached your peak.

It took a minute for your muscles to release their vice-like grip on him, and once they did you slumped back into your pile of pillows, boneless, spent, satisfied.

You would have loved to see him in that moment but you could not compel your eyes to open, though you did eventually feel him move from between your legs, and then warm, strong arms surrounded your waist, and pulled you to lay on his strong plastron in your stomach.

A large hand ran over your hair, smoothing it back, out of your face, then disappeared for a bit, and then a blanket pulled over your back.

"Hope your dad didn't teach you that."

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

All 👏about 👏the aftercare👏! He'll make sure you're clean and comfortable, carefully cleaning you up with one of maybe ten towels he keeps near every surface he ever thought of fucking you on (under his bed, two in the lab, in the needle room, etc). He makes sure you have a fresh set of clothes in the Lair, and tries to dress you after every 'session' (he likes to call it that, because despite being a sex god, he's squeamish about the word).

Prepare for all the snacks and soft drinks in the world.

If you're in the mood he'll even put on a movie to watch while you fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Legs. Ever since that time you told him you love his thighs and how tall he is, he's been slowly getting into this whole self-appreciation business.

Yours: Your whole body, but if he had to be really specific - neck. It's one of those fascinating human things, that your neck is constantly exposed and so, so very vulnerable. If he were to mark his territory (which he does) that's where he would do it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

So. Much. Cum.

I mean, all the boys are huge, they produce A LOT of the stuff.

But unlike Raph and Leo, Donnie doesn't necessarily enjoy the sight of his, there's something deeply animalistic in the amount and feeling, and he refuses to fall to his most baser instincts.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He actually might kinda sort of like being dommed.

BUT DON'T YOU TELL ANYONE!

Raph caught him watching… some films once where a man was being VERY GENTLY bossed around by a lady in a leather suit, who referred to him as 'pet', and ever since you two started dating he's been calling him a 'boy toy' just to annoy him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Welp… Not much.

But where he lacks experience in the field, he makes up for it in research. That's right, y'all, Donnie is a Research king!

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He doesn't really have a specific position he likes, but for the most part, anything that let's him look at your face during sex. So anything from missionary, to mating press, to cowgirl, he's okay with.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Oh, you know this boy will be dropping dirty puns left and right. And he usually has a problem shutting up when he's excited, imagine that with all the oxitocin in his brain, when his filter is even less present.

Donnie: You said you felt guilty about that slice of cake, right?

S/O: Yeah?

Donnie: Let me burn off those calories.

-

Donnie: Dove, you're so wet I might need an umbrella.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Nope, no carpet to match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's usually hyper-focused, he treats sex almost like a little project, with a clear objective - you, wholly, entirely fucked out. He's nothing if not thorough, always has his hands on you, tries to maintain eye contact as much as he can.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Aha.

A lot of that.

Both before and after you became a couple.

Before it used to be someone random on his mind, but after you met, that was it for him, he always thinks of you now.

He mostly goes to 'help himself' either late at night, after patrol, or whenever you're not around. He's a needy boy, he's always ready for action, but he realises you have to sleep sometimes.

Sometimes he'd even pull up the nudes you sent him, 'for visual aid'.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Again, he doesn't have a particular one he enjoys most, apart from praise. Verbal praise is what makes him melt.

Everything else is still on the table: roleplay, toys, wax, spanking, food, he's all for it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere (The Lab, his bed, your bed, their kitchen, your kitchen, their bathroom, any bathroom, whatever table, some corner of some alley somewhere)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything (something in a movie reminded him of you, he saw someone on patrol that looked kinda like you, wearing his color, wearing his brothers' colors, wearing too much, not wearing much, a Halloween costume, you just mentioning the word 'sex'), get ready to go to poundtoun any time if the day.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

BDSM - he doesn't enjoy pain (inflicting or being inflicted on). He's a caring bean, he will never inflict pain on you, more than he knows you can take, which he's always worried about (humans are small and fragile in his mind, and he has to hold back his strength the whole time, which takes away any possible enjoyment there was to be had).

Degradation is also something he'd hate to do. Either side is bad for him, he couldn't force himself to use anything but loving and positive language about you, and with all of his insecurities about everything, he won't really enjoy being called names.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He's a natural giver. He's a people-pleaser. He will never object to going down on you. For like 24h straight.

Though he won't ask, he loves a good head. But he's also scared for you, he doesn't know what could happen, but secretly loves it when you actually want to do it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever the occasion calls for. He's never one to stick to a specific style because it's easy.

He'll feel out the mood, and then give you exactly what you want and need at a certain moment.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

All of the quickies!

See point L, M, but this boy is always in the mood. Just give him the go-ahead and he's ready, that's how much you effect him, you can have him ready with just a look.

He doesn't necessarily prefer it to actual, proper sex, but again, whatever the situation calls for.

Sometimes neither of you have the time or patience to find the right place and do it properly. Sometimes the kitchen counter is fine.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's a scientist, i.e. a natural experimentalist (yes, it is an actual word, I checked). He'll try anything you want, and every once in a while he'll ask for something he likes as well (after some time, he'll get more comfortable with you and start being more and more open with his desires)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Welp, he's a ninja, and they're trained in stamina. But he has his moments. At first he wouldn't last all that long, it took some 'training' to get to the ideal point where he can go for hours.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

At first, he doesn't own any (why would he) but after you show an active interest in them, he'd start his own little collection. Nothing outrageous.

Just a Hitachi wand, some vibes, some dildos, and (I genuinely believe this would happen) a set of custom plugs with a turtle on the top.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not usually much of a tease, he's used to being the one teased, but hell let loose after a bit and throw in an extra line of 'Had enough yet?' or 'How come you make so much noise now, and are so quiet during the day?' He's a chatterbox, of course he'd tease a bit, but never in a degrading or demeaning way.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He may not be loud but he's vocal!

From the talking, to grunts and huffs of air, to all-out moaning, his own set of noises (often referred to as 'churring'), to whining and whimpering when he's close. He's not a good liar, and he's not an actor, he can't hide what he's feeling, especially during sex.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Roleplay is something he found by accident. When you dressed up as Velma from Scrooby Doo on Halloween, and he nearly came in his pants when you said 'Hi'.

From then on, the costumes and acts change, but his interest never wanes.

He loves it when you wear costumes from his favourite films and comics (Barbarella, Velma obvs, Inspector Gadget, Betty from Archie Comics, Raven from Teen Titans, and please, please, please put on those Pikachu ears and lingerie, hell go nuts)

But also likes the regular things: nurse or doctor, scientist (we all know that), professor, police officer.

All of the costumes!

And of course he likes playing Doctor Don and the evil scientist every once in a while. He knows you enjoy those too, and is happy that he found someone to share his nerd interests.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

👀

I mean…

He's 6'8" so….

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is high all the time, I mean this boy drinks a pint of coffee and energy drinks every hour or so, his hormones are constantly running amuck.

Thing is, he won't act constantly horny, but he will once the thought of sex is put into his head, which, with how fast his ind runs could be anytime.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not very quickly. He usually struggles to sleep, at any point, that's why he's developed his unhealthy sleeping pattern.

He will take his time, to clean you up, get you comfy, maybe you can both take a shower if you want that, he'd make sure to get you anything you want before moving you to bed and letting you rest.

He's sleep easier with you after sex, than he usually does, but it takes a while for the tiredness to hit him.

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Leonardo

At first, he doesn't know how to feel about you being so… physical. He's not much for physical touch, but he definitely prefers it to constant talking.

It takes some getting used to, not just all of this extra touch, but the expansion of his social circle.

At first he's a bit detached, aloof, doesn't go into too much contact with you at all, but there was the one time when he saw Mikey hugging you goodbye, and the collection of smiles and giggles, and happy noises that brought to the space. It was the first time he noticed how often you seek touch from him and his brothers.

At first he didn't want to be rude so he'd give you, their new friend, a hug goodbye, whenever you would leave the Lair, but at a point, he realised just how much he enjoys your warm hugs.

They're not like his brothers', they're always a bit tighter, a lot warmer, and somehow a bit more loving.

Once you started dating the amount of physical touch you initiated skyrocketed.

Holding his hand from the bedroom to the dojo, sitting by him on the couch with your back pressed to his chest and you'd wrap his arm around you "to make space", you'd constantly have your arms around him somehow.

He grew to enjoy the small sounds of utter joy you make when he'd wrap his arms around you from behind, while you fix you two some snacks in the kitchen.

He's grown to love the warmth you emit, giving to him so freely, like it's nothing. It may be nothing to you, but it is everything to him.

Hug and praise this man enough and you'll unlock an extra achievement: the bed trap.

There was a time when he'd see sex as a very serious affair, so serious in fact, that I shouldn't be for everyday. But! If you hug and kiss, and reassure him enough he'll soften up, and bit by bit, he'll let loose around you.

You'll have to make space in your schedule now for every time you visit, because once you go into that bedroom, you're not leaving any time soon.

Now that he knows how much you crave physical contact, he'll make sure you're all stocked up for the couple of days of the week when you don't have time to meet.

These are long, grueling sessions, where he'll attend to every single inch of skin you have, top to bottom, and he'll keep you so close to him throughout. Once he's done, once your brain is just a warm soup with the letters 'L', 'E' and 'O' floating about, he'll clean you up, maybe change you into something warm, and you are now caught in the bed trap. This man is the big spoon that doesn't let go of the little one.

All of the back, neck and cheek kisses while you're spooning, he'll hold your hands in front of you, he'll wrap his legs around yours and just keep you there as his own personal pillow.

Hug and kiss this man, as much as you can, he desperately needs it, and with enough work put in, you'll get to reap the benefits of that as well.

Raphael

Oh, he's all for it.

You'd fit together perfectly, he loves physical touch, you love physical touch, it's a match made in Heaven.

Right off the bat, you two click together, sitting real close on the couch on movie night, Raph puts an arm around the back of the couch and you shamelessly snuggle in; you'd sit on his lap when there's no space at the dinner table; he'd offer you share his bed and you have no issue with that; you'd hug him 'Hello', 'Goodbye', 'Time for Lunch' and whenever else you'd find the opportunity.

He loves that he doesn't need to explain to you that physical touch makes up for the words he can't say, you get him.

Right at the start of your relationship, after one of your first dates he struggles to put into words how much he likes you, so he just hugs you real tight, arms low in your waist, nuzzling your neck. And you get it! Snuggling into his embrace, then placing a small kiss over the edge of his plastron.

You two just click together perfectly.

Donatello

He's a bit squeamish about physical touch. Honestly, he's not a fan of it.

Whenever his brothers would go about roughhousing each other, all wrestling and creating noise like rowdy children often do, he'd either sneak out to somewhere quiet or sit by and watch, and when Splinter finally came, he'd give a detailed report of what happened.

Things are different with you though.

He likes to think he's in control of his impulses, he likes to think the more animalistic-part of his brain can be kept at bay. The one that runs from physical contact like it does from an open fire.

But it's not quite that simple.

His brothers have kind of adjusted to him being this way, avoiding touching him if they can, they didn't necessarily need to talk about it, they just took note of the way he acts when someone invades his personal space.

And that is when you came in.

The moment you met you, almost aggressively, hugged him on whatever occasion, you grabbed his hand to look and admire its size compared to yours and you stood uncomfortably close when you all gathered around the screen wall.

It was unnerving to him, he even once in a while, would entirely flinch away from your affection, it was just too much for him.

But then you started dating.

And he had to bring it up.

He felt his nerves choke him multiple times through the conversation, but he finally got the words out that he needs a bit more time getting used to this form of physicality.

You were very understanding, you said you'd keep a lid on the amount of PDA.

Progressively, he got more and more open, he'd hug you back, he'd kiss you whenever he could, and he LOVES cuddling with you. Mostly because you act as his own personal heater.

He'll never be as open to touch as Raphael and Michelangelo, but that's what you get for falling for a 6'8 ninja turtle.

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It had been a whole year since you've seen Lady Liberty and she seemed to welcome you back, strong and stern as ever, but with a gentleness in her eyes, as if you were her own. 

The Brooklyn Bridge looked different, perhaps you'd remembered it wrong. 

The Majestic Theater stood tall and daunting as she always had, but maybe it was the intensive rains that have dulled her exterior. 

All the little bodegas and shops, and stalls looked just as bright as they did when you left, but different somehow. Never had you considered neon lights could look dead and cold. 

It had been a year since the smog of pollution and noise and people and motion that NYC was built from had invaded your mind, and all had seemed to pass in the same colorless wordless blur that made up the ambience of the city. Too fast to see and hear, but too slow to stand out.

The stairs leading up to that old brick building looked just as tired and haggard as you had been as you walked them many times. The door was different, this one seemed newer, it was a different color it seemed to have been made from sturdier metal, harder for anyone to break it with malicious intent, but the door knob, the edges, the small window already seemed to be showing some of the same damage as the old one.

Your landlord was new, Jim, or Jack, or Jeff, or whoever, some trust-fund hotshot who appeared to have bought the building from Mrs. Estecito, the old lady who sometimes seemed too far off and away to remember to collect rent so her son had to do it for her. The apartament hadn’t been changed much either, the insulation was new, and that hideous wall-to-wall carpeting had been swapped out for some sterile and rigid looking white tiles.

It had been more than a year since you’d walked out of your window onto the fire escape to just look at the city, the people, the lights, the traffic. There was a point in time in which you could barely handle the sight of the skyline, the buildings looking too sharp and jagged to be safe, the light too harsh to make contact with, the idea that someone would run through it all and into your open arms unbearable to even consider. The big city, inconvenient, and expensive, and over-populated, and hollow as it may sometimes appear, was really good at giving one perspective. 

Life goes on.

With or without you.

A year after New York had lost her shimmer and glow and had become just another city, you were back into her open arms to once again greet her bright eyes, but they looked empty now - you had fallen for her charms before, you had seen her as a mother, a teacher, a matchmaker even. She had called you back to her side: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses," she said. And it was one of her sons that had shown you her true colors - dark, and dull and drained of meaning.

“I heard you’re back.”

Under any other circumstances you would have jumped, you would have grabbed the nearest weapon-like object, you would have screamed maybe. But this one was something special. 

It had been a year since you’d heard that voice.

“I am.”

There were a myriad of questions you could ask: how he knew that you were back, how he knew you’d moved to the same place, why he’d come at all, why he'd done the thing he did in the first place; but all of it was inconsequential in the long run. Only one thing mattered:

“What’s it to you?”, your voice was relatively quiet in the constant rumble of traffic, drained and powerless from the trip there or maybe it was just his presence that had stripped all the life out of you, the memory of your last words towards each other still hung heavy in your mind, smothering any fight you had to give.

“I just… wanted to check… if you’re okay.”

Lie.

One of the many, it seemed.

You paid no mind to the halting in his sentence, not bothered to try and uncover what it hid beneath the cover of silence. This is not your problem anymore, he is not your problem anymore.

“I’m okay.”

No point in prolonging the inevitable, whatever he had to say was meaningless to you, he’d proved his own words empty, whatever he had to say you didn’t want to hear.

Or so you told yourself. But why hadn’t you left then, you knew he wouldn’t stop you.

“Okay.”

You could almost feel the strain in his voice, as if he was forcing himself to keep the conversation going. Something he was never good at. His actions always spoke better than his words.

It had been a year since you’d shared those steps with him, silent in contemplation, content in each other’s presence, just a pair of shadows in the blurring barrage of light and colour. 

You sat on the larger platform with your back to him, which is how he’s managed to sneak up on you, he was the only thing separating you from your living room window. 

Something in you though, something deep, buried and long deprived of warmth, something pushed you to help him out, give him one final show of grace. 

"What do you want, Don?" well, grace was perhaps more than he could ask for in his position, but the gesture was there nonetheless. It was up to him whether he'd cherish it or not. 

"To say I'm sorry." 

Well, isn't that quaint. Funny how him not wanting to speak to you was the whole issue and now he's trying to perhaps overcompensate. 

"You just did." 

You were not being purposefully snide but a part of you wanted him to experience the same cold, piercing betrayal and pain you had more than a year ago. Something dark, and vengeful, something cruel in you, wanted him to suffer and crush under the weight of freezing cold words from the lips of the one you love the most. It's a part of you you feared, but for once you let it out to play. He'd bled you dry of any compassion, it was his fault it had a way in, in the first place. 

"Look, I…" of course, it's all about him, you thought. You didn't quite believe it but once more let the dark thoughts run wild. "I messed up, and I hurt you. And you didn't deserve that." 

He sounded like a child apologising to another for pushing them. Did he even know what he was apologising for? Had it dawned on him? Sure, he may be a genius, but due to his upbringing he was a bit emotionally stunted. You had been more than happy to work with him, help him through the tough parts once, you had been gentle with him, but goodwill ran out. 

"Try harder." your tone wasn't angry or bitter, not quite sad either, just tired. Even in scale and timbre, monotonous as had been the last year: all noise and motion, yet nothing stood out, nothing made a difference, it was all the same, all insignificant. 

You heard a shuffle of feet on the metal platform, soft thuds now detectable, perhaps due to his frustration, or maybe  he'd just gotten sloppy in the stealth department. 

"I was an idiot, and I…" two massive steps sounded right next to you, and then his heavy, tall figure slinked down to almost your level. He sat next to you. The gall. "... I should have appreciated what I had. But I got… scared and… I pushed you away. I'm sorry. " 

He barely believed that one himself. 

Your tired eyes rolled in their sockets, annoyed and frustrated, to look at the red brick wall you were leaning on. 

What movie did he lift this one from? 

"What are you sorry for?" 

A beat of New York silence. Then another. Then two more, and you had finally hit the freaking jackpot. He didn't even know. 

"What do you mean?" 

With little patience for the conversation you leaned closer to the brick and away from him. 

"Why was I mad, Donnie?" the nickname hadn't come out of your lips for a year, and yet when it finally did, it held none of the affection and love it once held, it sounded snide and harsh, almost like an accusation itself. 

He took a second to process your words, seemingly for the first time, and just the fact that he'd had all this time to sit and think, like you had but hadn't actually bothered, filled you with unfiltered rage and hatred towards the man. But it is as they say, a thin line between hatred and love. 

"Those two weeks-" 

"It wasn't about the two weeks, Don!" your pent-up frustration and fury, finally bubbled over, as you shouted your disappointment at him, finally looking at him for the first time. 

He'd lost weight, his eyes were darker, somewhat sunken into his skull, he'd shed most of his gadgets perhaps knowing he wouldn't need them with you. Or maybe you just hadn't seen him in a while, maybe it was all in your head. 

"It was about the lying." you could see his eyes widen a fraction behind his glasses, as the reason for your sudden departure finally dawned on him. And that set your blood on fire. 

"When have I ever given you a reason to lie to me about something so small as needing a break? Was I not tolerant enough for you?! What more could I have possibly done?!" the questions you have been swimming around for a year came crashing to you in a tidal wave of doubt and pain, heart palpitating, aching with the idea that you will never get an answer. 

"And then that bullshit you gave me when I finally came to talk to you? Do you know how many fucking nights I spent thinking about how I fucked this all up for us? How awful I must’ve been to get you to act that way?! I started going to fucking therapy, dude! Just to be told that, NO, it wasn't actually my fault it ended like this. "

Your throat started hurting, voice crackling a hot fiery inferno, rewarding his cold detached silence with a burning wave of heat and fury. 

Though that fire was quickly stamped out by the now familiar cool of a melancholic shower. 

None of this mattered. 

Why bother telling him all this, you're not getting back together. 

His stunned silence was an odd kind of comfort: you could almost pretend you were back in those final two weeks of your relationship, when you were blissfully ignorant to his lies and deception, to the sharp, ugly words he'd throw your way. It was nice to pretend. 

"Whatever it is you wanted," a wet sob almost split from your throat as you tried to formulate your thought, "whatever the reason, I would've understood. If you wanted to split, you could've said so. If you didn't love me anymore," your voice came out soft and quiet, almost soft enough to be drowned out by the city noise, "we could have still been friends. Now I can't even look at your brothers." 

Speechless again. Hood, that seems to be his permanent state when it comes to you. 

"Why have you come, Donnie? Coz it's clearly not to apologise."

He seems to settle in to think for a second, pursing his lips, squinting his eyes in contemplation, until they finally, finally, come to meet yours. 

"I am here to apologise. But now I see, we don't fully understand each other." his eyes landed on the steps once more, be it in shame or contemplation again, you couldn't tell, perhaps both. And then his chin lifts up quickly, eyes bright and hopeful, and you could almost fall for them once more," But that's fine, we could work on that! We could try again, and we could…" by the middle of the sentence, he'd noticed the subtle shake of your head 'no', as you put your face in your hands, no longer able to look at him. 

This is a stupid idea. 

You should have left him outside to stew in his own shame and guilt, you should have never uttered a word to him, you could still leave! 

But why, oh why, were you so compelled to sit there and listen to his excuses, his crazy ideas, and why the hell were those ideas giving you hope? Why were you finding solace in the thought of picking up where you left off? Of being with him again? Of having his family around once more? We're those great memories not tarnished by the bitter end of your tale?

"I don't know that I can trust you again." you croak out without meaning to, your hands stifling the sound of your confession, enough to bring out the tired quality of your voice to the forefront. 

A beat of noise passed through. 

Then another. 

Then several more. 

Perhaps he has finally settled with what he did. But instead of feeling the triumph of having destroyed his plans like he did yours, instead of rejoicing your revenge you felt hollow, dead, cold, it hurt to even breathe, and every thought that passed through your head, stabbed at your harshly-beating heart as if to finish the job once and for all. 

We could start over, you thought. 

And you could. You could start over again like the last two years didn't happen. You could have a second first date, a second first kiss under the stars, you could get to know each other all over again. And sure it might be awkward and stiff at first, those would be the consequences, but you could do it. 

But why would you? After all he's proved not to dwell on a thing for too long. Any problem he can't solve, any project he can't figure out, he hyper-focuses on until it's done and then he moves on to the next big thing. You couldn't help but think through that long lonely year that you were just another project: he wanted to figure you out so bad, he wanted to make it work with you, and once he did the challenge was no longer there, so he moved on. 

"Why did you do it?" 

He shuffled in his seat a bit, scratching at his arm, sniffling a bit: pacifying and self-soothing gestures to brace for the truth. For whatever reason you were sure it would not be a straightforward answer. 

"We met someone recently. A new friend who just so happened to be a trained psychologist. One time we were all drinking and having fun and… then everyone went to bed and…" Oh god, please, no. Please don't say you slept with them, I couldn't bear it. "I told them everything. I told them I didn't know why I did it, just that it felt correct doing it but not once I was confronted." his leg started bouncing nervously, brows pinching together, as if glaring the fear away, and your heart tightened at the struggle on his face,"They threw a lot of jargon at me, which I was unfamiliar with, but the gist is, because of the way I grew up I don't have the coping mechanisms to deal with adult relationships." 

You sat there in the cold, cold night, trying to process what he'd just told you. 

He'd received one night of drunk counseling and suddenly he had his ducks in a row? That fast? Does it help to be a genius? 

You felt stupid for having dwelled on relationship drama for a year, meanwhile he dealt with childhood trauma in a night. 

"They told me, the first step is understanding the problem." another heady sigh, seemingly added only to pull at your heartstrings, “But understanding means nothing if you don’t confront the problem.” for the first time since he’d arrived, the facade was dropped, he was finally sincere with you again, just like he used to be “So, here I am. For closure. For both of us.”

You couldn’t find it in you to say anything, not a word, only a sad wet sob, as you finally betrayed your inner pain, head falling on his shoulder, once more seeking his warmth and comfort, consequences be damned.

It was quiet for a while. No more words were exchanged between you for a while.

He was never good with words, it was his actions you had to look out for.

As you mourned the loss of a year together, his arm seemed to have settled back into the good old days, sneaking around your back to shield you from the chilly smoke of New York, that spoke of all her bad habits.

There were no thoughts in your head for a while, there was only grief, over what it was, what it could have been, and what could never be. 

“I don’t know that I can trust you again.” your voice had gotten away from you somehow, speaking your thoughts without your approval, but for once in your existence, you let it, what’s there to lose anyway, “But I want to.” a heaving sob wracked what was left of your heart, the sight of his chest blurring with new incoming tears, “I miss you so much, but…” how do you put all of the betrayal, pain, panic, love, hope, doubt into words, “I’m scared you’ll do it again.”

His arms closed in on you tightly, holding you in earnest as his own chest seemed to struggle pacing itself. He was scared too.

“I’m scared too.”

His strength could be felt as the quacking of his lung and heart never hindered his hold on you, always warm, always steady.

“I hate what I did, I hate how I did it…” a pause for a shaky breath, “I hate that I let you down. And my family…” Keep going, Donnie, let it out, “... we don’t get many friends, and I… I took you away from them too. And you were gone so long I…” Go on, baby, use your words, “ I thought the worst.”

Your heart suddenly jumped at the mountainous implication of these words, and your shaking arms couldn’t help but stretch around him further as if to pull him back from these thoughts.

But you couldn’t. 

You could not bring back that time. You couldn’t take away all the things you’d done and said in that year. You couldn’t start over.

But maybe you didn’t need to.

“I don’t know that I can trust you again, but…” and for the first time in a while New York held some warmth in her bright electric eyes, skyscrapers, hotels, and billboards blinking away her intentions, winking at you, not promising, but encouraging, like an older sister. She didn’t have all the answers but she had all the opportunities. It was up to you now. “...we can fix that. We can… work our way back.”

he pulled back so quickly he almost gave you whiplash.

“You mean it?” these bright golden eyes filled with hope were all you could see all of a sudden, and now you remembered why you had been so entrapped by them before.

“Not immediately, but… in time.”

And then he was hugging you again, tight and genuine and warm. 

Like before.

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HEADCANNONS

The Boys and PDA - Request - What are the boys like around their physically-affectionally S/O - Fluff, implied smut

Smut Alphabet: Leo ° Raph ° Donnie

Having an Irish S/O (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Just some Irish things that pique the boys’ attention - Crack, fluff

Splinter being a dad (Turtle Family x GN!Reader) - Master Splinter gives you and the boys some treats and they have to explain to you what that means - No-ship, fluff, crack

New Smile (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Reader has a surprise for her turtle of choice - Fluff, some crack

The Turtles' S/O doing an Internet meme and getting their way (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Request - Crack, implied smut, but nothing explicit

When Donnie’s corrected (No Ship) - Request - Crack, some brotherly fluff

How the Turtles’ S/O got their nickname - Request (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Fluff, some crack, domestic (I’m in a mood)

The Turtles having a Wiccan S/O - October Special (Turtle x GN!Reader) - Fluff, some crack, a tiny smidge of angst if you squint.

The boys helping their S/O cut their hair and loving it - Request (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Fluff, crack, with some dirt sprinkled in (dw, I got you, you filthy animals lol)

When the Reader has been dating a Foot Clan spy and they finally find out - Request (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Angsty af, guilt, self-consciousness, love confessions.

Having a bilingual/bicultural S/O (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Crack and Fluff, Domestic, some swear words

When their S/O is on their period (and its a bad one) (Turtles x Female!Reader) - Fluffy shit, Domestic, Turtles care for the Reader.

Having an NYPD officer S/O (Turtles x GN!Reader) - Some Fluff, some mentions of sex, hurt and comfort.

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LEO Fics

Waterbearer (Leonardo x GN!Reader) - A fight breaks out, some ugly words are thrown out in the heat of the moment and it’s time for reckoning - Angst with happy ending, some verbal abuse

You Have No Proof! (Leonardo x Female!Reader) - Leo's been caught and its time to talk. - Crack, some Fluff, for shits and giggles

Men's Health (Leonardo x GN!Reader) - Reader's been caught ogling, and they have to explain to their man's that he's hot. - Crack mostly, some Fluff, and some anxiety but that's a given.

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RAPH Fics

The Lift (Raphael x GN!READER) - Getting stuck in an elevator together can be a real adventure - Crack, some Fluff, enemies to friends

Fallout (Raphael x GN! Reader) - Request - A fight breaks out, fallout is to be had. - Angst, Fluff, implied smut.

You Have No Proof! (Raphael x GN!Reader) - Reader has some doubts about their relationship with Raphael - Fluffy, with some tension.

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Brought up well (Donatello x Female!Reader) - Donnie remembers his manners - Pure smut

DONNIE Fics

Disclosure (Donatello x GN!Reader) - Time to confront the past, admit fault and try to move on (unofficial sequel to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly) - Angst, lots of feels, and maybe a new hope

Jinkies (Donatello x Female!Reader) - It Scooby-doobie-do be like that sometimes (purposefully unhelpful) - Crack, Fluff (around the edges), Bisexual Reader

New Moon - Request (Donatello x GN!Reader) - It's time to tie the knot, he's prepared, he's ready, he's considered everything!... almost... - Fluff, crack, implied smut

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (Donatello x GN!Reader) - Don and the reader have their first fight and it’s an ugly one - Angsty af (hurt to write), no happy ending.

Tell All (Donatello x GN! Reader) - Don and the Reader had been keeping their relationship a secret but they decide its time to come clean. - Fluff, some sneaking around, a single sex pun, Mikey's cooking.

To Bed (Donatello x Female!Reader) - Don likes to experiment in bed, and while this one seems odd at first, oh, does it pay off. - Pure Smut, Erotic Poetry included, John Donne, cunnilingus, orgasm delay, Don is a sneaky little shit.

Comfort Cave (Donatello x GN!Reader) - Donnie is tired, and chilly and needs some comfort, and that's how you find him. - Fluffy shit, cute af, cuddlung, some odd questions that don't actually matter.

Shellraiser (Donatello x Female!Reader) - You're tired and just try to find comfort in your man, but he has a better idea. - Smut, Sexual Content, Sexual Exploration, Risk of Exhibition, Sex in the Shellraiser, Donnie likes lights, Vaginal sex.

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TMNT Fic Ideas Rattling around My Head

(Take em and do as you wish with them but PLEASE make sure to tag me, I wanna see them but I don’t have the time and bandwidth to write them)

Prompt #1 Prompt #2 Prompt #3 Prompt #4 Prompt #5 Prompt #6 Prompt #7

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SOME RANDOM STUFF

What the Turtles call their S/O in my fics

Leonardo Icons for Reference - 9 face icons for art reference

Raphael Icons for Reference - 9 icons for art reference + 1 extra coz I couldn't help it.

Donatello Icons for Reference - 9 icons for art reference.

Michelangelo Icons for Reference - just 5 but that's all the diversity I could get.

Donatello is the Most Adventurous (A Theory) - in which I explore the odds that Donatello is the most sexually-expermentative of all his brothers, based on personality types, character studies, and come to the conclusion that even if it's all baseless I'm gonna treat it as fact coz I wanna.

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INSPO (Visual)

Leo Swimming (Alt: What it's like in my head all day every day)

Don’s Thighs (Gifs)

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Don being a younger sibling (Clip)

“Tiramisu for everybody!” Don being a geek (Clip)

“Crush my ribcage, you load bearing behemoth” or Donnie-stans being John Oliver (Clip) by @memes-in-a-half-shell

The Lair in Details by @sultrysirens

Mikey should host Jeopardy (Clip)

“She’s got a tall-ass SNAKKK” or Mikey being a BionicPig by @memes-in-a-half-shell

After Police Headquarters (Clip)

To sort of training (Clip)

Leonardo

It's 4 AM goddammit! Why hasn't he come to bed yet? That's one of the few nights you could actually sleep over and he was over in the dojo doing katas. You understood he found comfort in his training, in the routine, but you hoped some good ole loving would do too, or so he'd said.

You weren't falling asleep without him, that much was clear, so you just grabbed your phone from the bedside table, and it didn’t take you long to find something interesting.

You're not coming to bed, huh?, you though, we'll see...

-

You could hear the sounds of sharp blades slashing through air, and silent breaths, but that is all. Well, you're gonna have to change that.

As you passed the threshold to the dojo, making your best effort to move as silently as ever, you saw just his shell and those quick, precise methodical movements that he told you to NEVER EVER call choreography ever again. But it did look like dancing...

A smirk worked itself onto your face as you undid the knot of your towel, vaguely aware in the back of your mind, that his brothers or his father could easily walk in at any point.

Pull, and throw.

One of his hands stopped it's previous movement, and caught the towel as it flew his way. You could hear a small sniff sound, and he knew it was you.

"What is it, pet-oh!"as he turned his eyes fell on you, immediately widening.

"Come to bed, Leo." your head fell to the side, exposing your neck - one of his favourite spots - acting all coy and innocent.

Before you could process he'd moved, arms were placed at the back of your knees and at your back and you were being hauled back to the bedroom.

"How can I say no?"

Mission accomplished.

Raphael

That stupid old bag! How many hours can he spend punching this poor ole thing? What is he hoping for, he couldn't possibly grow more massive!? You're gonna have to intervene.

Luckily, Raph was easy to distract if you knew how.

"Hey, Raph?"

"What, Shorty?" he was sweaty, and out of breath, but at full alert. Good.

A towel flew at the back of his head and he had to stop his routine to catch it.

"What the -?"

"You seem sore, wouldn't you like something softer to slap?"

You played him like a fiddle. In no more than a second he'd grabbed you by the thighs and your bare back was pressed against the cool concrete wall.

"You got any ideas?"

Oh, many.

Donatello

There he is staying up all night, on some invention or another, hunched over, laser-focused. His work was difitely important, not just in general, but for his family's survival and life underground. But he worked fast enough that getting a good night's sleep every once in a while would not hurt his schedule in any significant way.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Barefooting the cold concrete floor wasn't a great idea but you're halfway to the lab now, but going back would mean risking being seen, and you were not yet ready to be seen naked by your boyfriends family.

"Hey, Don."

"What is it, comet?"

Towel - yeet.

"Wha-" towel - fall, chair - turn, and get ready to rumble.

"So, I've got a thing I need some help with..." you giggled coyly.

"Wha... Did-d you not bring spare clothes?" oh my god.

"I have clothes, Don." Okay, take two, "I've just found myself a bit lonely."

"I think Leo is still awake you could go talk to him while I finish here."

"Oh, my god, Don! I need my back thrown out, and I'm not going to ask Leo!"

As your arms were up, and your eyes were rolled back into your head the soft fluffy towel encompassed your body once more, and you were lifted in the air.

"In that case, we've got work to do."

Fucking finally!

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Leonardo

"Just stay still, petal."

"Leo, you sure about this?"

"Trust me."

A simple issue is what got you into this. As a college student you have to cut down on extra spending, so luxuries like travel and eating out every day have to go. But there was something else on that list you hadn't actually expected to see there.

Hair.

At first it didn’t seem like a problem - long hair doesn't require constant cutting, though it does take a lot of products to keep healthy and shiny. And that was an issue. Not just because it was costly but because you were trying to to be more green, and using 4 bottles of shampoo a month is not very sustainable, even if you sought out the specific brands with reusable packaging. Save the turtles and whatnot.

You had been preparing to cut it all week, mostly browsing through Pinterest, reading pros and cons to short hair, looking at hairstyles, until you found hair donation. That's what sold you on it. And now you weren’t just doing it for vanity and cost-efficiency, you were also doing it for the children!

So, here you are, sitting on a kitchen chair in your bathroom, with your turtle lover behind you. You trusted that Leo's steady hand, and his perfectionism would lead to a good result.

"Is it done yet?" your eyes were squinted shut, mouth pulled in a cringe, and your hands were clutching one another, as if bracing for impact.

"In a second."

Swish

"It's done."

Wait, what?

You reached for the mirror on the floor and turned it. A hand flew to your mouth, as your eyes landed on your reflection.

"Oh my god!"

"What? Does it look wrong? I can fix-"

"No, no, no! It looks great!" you started fiddling with your new ends, so fresh and soft. And then you saw something shiny at the edge of your peripheral. As you turned you saw that it was one of Leo's katanas.

Oh shit.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you just Mulan my hair?"

"Did I do what?"

Note to self: watch Milan with Leo. He may enjoy it too.

Meanwhile, Leo could not look away. The way the new haircut opened up your face, and gave you less opportunity to hide your face in it was not only a massive improvement, but also gorgeous on you. The way the sharp edge ended just above your shoulders uncovered your neck, and he was already running scenarios through his head of how he could use that.

Thank fuck for his years of training, that a smile is all you could see.

"Well, the result is worth it. So, thank youuuuu!" you jumped off the stool, throwing your arms around his neck, and his instinctively shot up to hold you steady.

"You're very welcome, petal."

In the following weeks it was virtually impossible to keep his hands off you. Because it was “so soft” or whatever. He’d find any excuse to have you near him, on his lap, even sitting next to him, so he could run his hands through your hair - much more than he had before (he said he’d been scared it’d get tangled to which you replied “Short hair tangles too, Leo.” - that didn’t seem to phase him.)

Raphael

You tried to sit perfectly still, lest the kitchen stool with the 3 folded blankets you were sitting on might topple over if you fidget too much. Why were you sitting on a kitchen stool with 3 folded blankets? So that your mountain of a man wouldn’t have to bend over you to do his task.

"So, I just cut over the hair band?"

"Yeah, babe, just cut over the hairband, and put that in the bag, I’ll handle the rest.”

Sounded pretty easy. There’s one issue though - those baby scissors you gave him could be entirely hidden in his large hand, and there was virtually no way he could fit his fingers in the finger bows. Once again, he’ll have to improvise.

Deep breath in. And out.

“Don’t move, shorty.”

“Okay.” he still could not fathom the kind of trust you had in him - was it stupidity or kindness? - he couldn’t tell if he’d earned it, but by golly, was he gonna enjoy the shit out of it.

As noiseless as ever, he pulled one of his sai out of their sheaths, held the hair above the hairband so he wouldn’t pull on your scalp, and as carefully as he could ran the blade through the locks of hair.

He honestly did feel a tiny bit of sadness as he did so - he loved to play with your hair, sometimes you would fall asleep in his arms as he did, and you genuinely looked like a dream when you finally let your hair down after a long day. But it’s what you wanted, and if it’s what you wanted he’ll help you get there.

“Done.”

“That quick?”

“Just this one time, baby.” he chuckled smugly at his own dirty joke, the bastard, he knew what you meant.

“Oh my GOD, RAPH!” you would have pushed him, had you not been in real danger of falling from this stupid baby chair.

Large hands wound around your waist, lowering you to the floor safely so you could run to the mirror.

“Wow...”

Uh oh, that don’t sound too good, he though as you played with the ends of your shortened hair. He saw you eye-measuring, ruffling, turning, shaking and had no clue if that was a good or bad indicator.

Meanwhile you were internally going ape shit.

Wtf, is this me!? I look like I’m about to run for CEO of Bad Bitch Inc.!

I’d been so long since you’d seen yourself with hair this short, you could not look away.

“Aaa!” you screeched from somewhere deep within your soul, as a clown-smile spread over your face, while you kept on ruffling and hand-combing through your new hair.

“’s it good?”

“Is it good?! It’s perfect!” you turned faster than you could think and just threw yourself at him, and he, thanks to his heightened reflexes, caught you.

Shit, you looked hot like that.

And there was still enough hair to play with anyway.

And now you were both falling asleep as he played with your hair. The softer texture of it over his rough fingers really put him at ease. And he found out during *activities* there was still enough to pull.

Donatello

“I’m here, Don.”

You’d asked Donnie to help you with your hair last night and he’s said yes, so that had you arriving at the Lair, earlier than you usually would, so you could get it done before work.

“Hey, comet, you’re early. You ready?”

A little bit nervous but “Yep.”

“Okay, go sit on the desk, I’ll be back in a second.”

On the desk? Well, yeah, he’s nearly 7′ tall, he’ll have to basically kneel to cut my hair properly.

“Here you go!” you jumped in your spot as a green arm entered your peripheral view from behind. He was handing you a can of Orange Crush with a straw in it, presumably so you wouldn’t be turning or moving your head too much.

“Thanks, Don.”

As you sat on the work bench, with your back to him, sipping your Orange Crush like a happy toddler, you felt a comb being ran through your hair, careful as always.

“So, I was thinking we’ll try a medium layered bob, and then we’ll see if you like it.”

What...

Of course he knew what he was talking about. Because of course he researched it. Because of course.

And, honestly, you weren’t half as prepared as he was.

“Sure, I trust you.” you shrugged with a smile, because it was virtually impossible he’d fuck it up. As you previously noted, he was at least 10x as prepared as you were.

After he was done brushing your hair, Donnie just stood there for a second, just looking at it. It was so pretty and shiny, and long. He was gonna miss it. But it was still your choise at the end of the day, and your decision to donate it was the kind of kind and noble act that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

Well, time to snip it off. He said a silent goodbye to your long locks as he tired it up just over your shoulders, and reminded himself that hair grows back and you could grow it out if you didn’t like it.

God, he hoped you’d like it.

He took his brand new scissors made just for the purpose and...

Snip.

Phew! Okay, no way back now!, you were pepping yourself up for seeing yourself with a different hair, and hopefully, a different attitude.

Some more snipping and brushing later, after you’d finished your drink, you just sat there hoping the nervous dangling of your legs wasn’t too much of an issue for Donnie.

“Done!” he sounded satisfied with his efforts, so if he’s happy, you’re happy, right?

A mirror was handed to you from behind, and you took in a deep breath, bracing for impact.

And oh, shit, the person staring back at you was hot!

And Donnie was having similar thoughts once he walked around the work bench. The wide smile on your face was the first thing he saw, and it seemed too genuine to be faked just for him, but once he actually looked at your hair...

Wow! He didn’t know it could look THAT good! Sure, he had researched and studied hair and hairstyles since you asked for his help, but FUCK, it was so pretty!

Or was that just you?

“Don, I love it!” you seemed completely unable to keep your hands off your hair, running your hands through, turning, shaking it out, repeat. Once you managed to look away from the mirror the bright grin you gave him nearly melted him in the spot. You reached your arms forward, and he understood the gesture to mean you wanted a hug.

And he was not gonna oppose that. His arms reached around you like they usually would, though one hand coasted over your back, up to your shoulders, fingers feeling, playing with the soft ends of your fresh locks.

“Thank you!”

“My pleasure.”

And now, on top of everything else, he was a hair expert too.

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tagsgsgsgs:

@shadow-ninjas @exovapor @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @remmushound @aurora-the-kunoichi @tmntspidergirl @mikeyshulagirl @forerunnertracer @angelicdavinci

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If y’all ever feel like donating hair, here’s some organizations to consider:

Locks of Love   Wigs for Kids (For the US)

Little Princess Trust   Bloomsbury Hair Harvest (For the UK)