#bay!mikey

[turtlecleric]

Melancholy, anyone?

-

A soft wind caresses your exposed skin, making you shiver. It might snow tonight if your weather app is to be trusted. It's definitely too cold for you to be out on this balcony in nothing but this dress. You should've brought a jacket, but none of the ones you own go with your dress and… you had wanted to look nice for once.

You sigh, crossing your arms and thinking fondly of your bed. You're not sure why you came.

…Okay, that's a lie. You came because the moment you mentioned the annual NYPD Christmas party to the group chat, your friends lost their minds and made it their mission to ensure that you went. You came because apparently the commissioner always brings a homemade pie that's to die for. You came because you didn't want to spend another night just sitting in your room alone playing video games. So. Yeah. You know why you came. But still. It's too crowded, and you don't really know any of your coworkers that well, and you sort of wish you had lied to your friends about going and stayed home playing video games anyway.

Well! You came. You showed your face. You tried the pie (admittedly delicious). You even stayed inside for a full hour before you escaped to the relative safety of the balcony. That's enough, right? You can head home and get comfortable. Your virtual crops aren't going to water themselves, after all. Yeah. It's… time to go.

You turn, already imagining the softness of your blankets, only to freeze in place at the sight before you. A huge turtle man, wearing a black suit and orange tie, stands near the door, his eyes wide with surprise. You both stare at each other, unmoving as the wind blows around you, and his surprise quickly shifts into something more like apprehension.

The silence stretches. You realize he's probably waiting for you to make the first move, waiting to see how you'll react to him. You remember the shock you felt the first time you saw the turtles at work. How you'd literally done a triple take when you'd seen their hulking figures walking with one of the detectives down the hallway. How you'd looked around, baffled, just to see everyone else acting like it was a normal Tuesday. How the person training you had laughed at your astonishment and explained how the turtles had apparently been working with the department for years now but ‘luckily there's always someone in the office new enough to gawk like that.’

You're still not exactly used to seeing the turtles, but you've at least seen them a few more times since then - though this is your first time being this close to one of them. Still, you definitely recognize him. He's the one with all the energy. The one that's always smiling and cracking jokes.

…It's a far cry from what you're seeing now. He almost looks like a puppy waiting to be kicked. Big, round eyes, and a slight hunch to his stance, like he's trying to make himself smaller. It makes your chest ache a little.

You make a point to uncross your arms and put on a pleasant smile. “Michelangelo, right?”

He visibly relaxes - there's that smile, tentative as it is - and nods. “The one and only. You can call me Mikey, though.”

You introduce yourself in turn, sending an awkward wave his way that you immediately regret - he doesn't seem to notice your embarrassment, though, thank fuck. If anything, his smile gets a little brighter. He takes a small step forward, then pauses and gestures at the empty space next to you. “Mind if I join you?”

You shake your head and step to the side to give him enough room, trying very, very hard not to stare as he leans his massive arms against the railing. It's kind of unbelievable how big he is. So tall that you have to tilt your whole head up to look at him when he's standing next to you, so wide that it's a miracle you don't see any tears on his suit with how stretched it is. He isn't even the largest brother if you remember correctly.

…You're definitely staring. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care, but it still feels rude. You manage to wrench your gaze away from him and copy his posture, leaning forward against the railing and watching the sky slowly darken. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, but streaks of pink and orange still stain the clouds and reflect off the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers. It's been a while since you really stopped to appreciate a sunset. They're always pretty, you think, but it seems like there’s just something… special about this one.

“Woah,” Mikey whispers, barely audible over the wind.

You glance his way, expecting him to be staring at the sky. He's not, though. He's staring at you. And now you can't quite remember what you were going to say.

“Yeah, the sunsets are always uh. Yeah.”

Jesus. Eloquent, aren't you? Your face burns, your mind racing for no fucking reason as you awkwardly stand there trying to think of something normal to say. You can't even really blame it on the fact that he's a giant humanoid turtle; unfortunately, you're just like this with unfamiliar people. Again, though, he doesn't seem put off. Quite the opposite, actually. He's practically radiating joy, looking at you like… like he'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

“I meant you,” he says, like that means something. “You're really pretty, you know?”

“Whuh?”

Mikey chuckles good-naturedly and tilts his head, but your brain has officially gone offline. Alarms are blaring in your mind, and an emergency message flashes across your vision on a loop: SOOO ELOQUENT. GREAT JOB, IDIOT. You can feel how red you are, but apparently the gods are taking pity on you, because he's looking back at the skyline and speaking again, filling the silence so you don't have to.

“Tonight has been- just- awesome. I mean, I knew it was gonna be cool, but wow!” He raves about the party, the food, the venue, everything you've sort of taken for granted all night. It reminds you that these guys probably don't get out much. It's become semi-normal in the police station to see them, sure, but not anywhere else. You wonder if this is the first NYPD Christmas party he's come to. His joy is… infectious. He talks with his hands, too, you notice. It's cute.

…Really cute.

As he talks, the alarms in your head don't completely disappear, but they… fade into the background, at least. There's something about this guy that makes you actually enjoy listening to him. Not just to be polite or out of some social obligation - you really want to.

Weird.

“Did you try that pie?” Mikey asks, smiling down at you. “I've never tasted anything so good in my life!”

This is it. Don't fuck it up. “Yeah, it was really good. I'm usually not a huge fan, but that crust-”

“The crust was so good!” He laughs, a bright, sparkling thing that has you smiling hard enough for your cheeks to hurt. The alarms are all but gone, and the warmth in your chest makes you forget the chill of the wind, and maybe this is what your friends have been talking about. Genuine human connection. Okay, well, not exactly human, but close enough. Maybe you could… give him your number. Maybe you could be bold, just this once. You watch him heave a happy sigh as he grins up at the sky, and you reach into your pocket for your phone. Surely they have phones. Right?

“Everyone has been so nice,” he says, like he's surprised. “And now- now I'm here! Talking to a cute girl like I'm actually-”

Suddenly he stills. There's a beat of silence. He looks back at you, and his smile has turned into something plastic and thin. His eyes still shine, but now they look… sad.

What happened?

“I should go,” he says, and the alarms are back. What did you do? What did you do? “It was really nice to meet you.”

You stare with wide eyes as he nods and turns. Something in your chest reaches toward him, begging begging begging for you to stop him. Say something, make him stay, fix whatever you did or said, be brave for once-

Too late. He's gone, disappeared back inside without even a glance back. Your heart thuds uncomfortably against your ribs. You should've… you…

You wait a few minutes longer before heading inside. You don't see Mikey, or any of the turtles, inside. There's no one you care to say goodbye to, so you leave without a word. You walk home slowly, shivering the whole way, and run through the conversation over and over in your head. Maybe you didn't talk enough? Maybe he saw something in your expression? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe you're just meant to be alone.

[httpvomitello]

Heeeeeey, how’s it going? I was thinking... something with our BAY TMNT boys, separately, their reaction when they discover that the reader (whom they secretly have a crush on) has a small and adorable pet turtle. Maybe one day they went to her house and saw the big, cute tank, noticing something tiny moving at the bottom and seeing a little turtle living its life in peace, surrounded by cute decorations and food everywhere (just to give you an idea) c:

I love that everyone comes to a consensus that the reader will always have a pet turtle. Anyways, hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Turtleception *⁠.⁠✧

Leo wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks, but for you? Well, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t found himself in a few precarious situations just to be closer to you. Tonight, however, was supposed to be a simple visit—nothing too crazy.

He climbed through your window with his usual quiet precision. The soft glow of your apartment’s lighting welcomed him.

“(Y/N)?” he called out softly, not wanting to startle you.

“In here!” Your voice came from the living room.

He followed the sound, but before he could make it all the way, something caught his eye. Against the wall stood a large glass tank, filled with vibrant decorations, miniature plants, and a tiny rock formation in the center. Curious, he stepped closer, eyes scanning the setup.

Then, he saw it—a tiny turtle, slowly paddling its way through the water, completely oblivious to the world around it.

Leo blinked, crouching down for a better look. “Is that…a turtle?” he muttered to himself, unable to stop the small smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, you met Speedy!” you said, stepping into the room with a grin.

“Speedy?” Leo echoed, his amusement clear.

“Yeah, ironic name, I know,” you said with a laugh. “He’s been with me for a while. Got him when he was even tinier.”

Leo chuckled, his fingers resting lightly on the edge of the tank. “He’s…adorable.”

You tilted your head, with a provocative smile on the lips, joking you said, “You like turtles?”

Leo hesitated, the slightest hint of a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Well, you could say I have a…personal connection.”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Let me guess. You see yourself in him, huh?”

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that.”

The sight of you caring for such a small, delicate creature warmed his heart. He could see how much love and attention you poured into Speedy’s care.

“You know,” he said, standing upright, “I think Speedy’s lucky to have you.”

You smiled, meeting his gaze. “And I think I’m lucky to have you, Leo.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he silently vowed to visit more often—if not just for you, then to check on his fellow turtle friend.

Raph wasn’t one for subtle entrances, but tonight, he made an exception. He climbed through your window with ease, landing silently on your living room floor.

He glanced around, his sharp eyes quickly taking in the space. That’s when he noticed it—a large glass tank sitting in the corner. His brows furrowed, and he walked over, curiosity piqued.

As he got closer, he spotted it—a tiny turtle, lounging on a rock under a miniature lamp, living its best life.

“What the…?” Raph muttered, leaning in closer.

“Oh, hey, Raph!” your voice called from the kitchen.

He straightened, turning as you entered the room with a bowl of snacks. “Didn’t know you had a pet,” he said, nodding toward the tank.

You smiled, setting the bowl down. “Oh, that’s Tank. He’s my little buddy.”

Raph crossed his arms, glancing back at the tiny turtle. “Tank, huh? Fitting name.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, he’s small but tough. Reminds me of someone.”

Raph smirked, the compliment not lost on him. “So, you’re into turtles?”

You shrugged, sitting on the couch. “Always have been. Tank’s just the cutest, don’t you think?”

Raph crouched down, watching as Tank lazily paddled through the water. “Yeah…he’s alright.” His tone was gruff, but you could see the soft glint in his eyes.

You nudged him playfully. “Admit it, you think he’s adorable.”

Raph huffed, trying to keep his tough exterior intact. “Maybe.”

But deep down, he couldn’t deny it. Seeing you care for something so small and fragile made his chest ache in the best way.

Donnie wasn’t one to show up unannounced, but after getting an excited text from you about some “new setup,” his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way to your place and slipped in quietly, his eyes scanning the room for whatever it was you wanted to show him.

Then, he saw it—a large glass tank filled with intricate decorations, bubbling water, and in the center, a tiny turtle happily exploring its aquatic home.

Donnie’s eyes widened, and he immediately stepped closer, adjusting his goggles for a better look. “No way…” he whispered, fascinated by the detailed setup.

“Donnie! You’re here!” you said, stepping into the room.

He turned to you, his excitement clear. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a turtle?”

You laughed, moving to stand beside him. “I thought I did. That’s Shelly.”

“Shelly,” Donnie repeated, his tone approving. “A classic name.”

You nodded proudly. “I’ve had her for a while. Just upgraded her tank today.”

Donnie couldn’t help but admire your handiwork. “This is…impressive. The filtration system, the decor placement, even the water temperature—it’s perfect.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “You’re geeking out over my turtle, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, adjusting his goggles again. “Can you blame me? She’s practically a part of the family now.”

The idea of you caring for something so meticulously made his admiration for you grow even more.

Mikey was always eager to visit you, and tonight was no different. He practically bounced through your window, landing in your living room with a wide grin.

“(Y/N)! I’m here!” he called out, his voice full of excitement.

“Hey, Mikey! Be right there!” you called back from another room.

While waiting, Mikey’s eyes wandered around your apartment. That’s when he spotted it—a large tank filled with colorful plants, tiny figurines, and…a turtle?

“No way,” Mikey whispered, his grin growing even wider as he crouched down to get a better look. “You’ve got a tiny me!”

The little turtle swam lazily through the water, completely unaware of the giant mutant admiring it.

“That’s Mr. Wiggles,” you said, stepping into the room.

“Mr. Wiggles?” Mikey repeated, laughing. “That’s the best name ever!”

You grinned. “He’s my little buddy. Got him a few years ago.”

Mikey tapped lightly on the glass, watching as Mr. Wiggles paddled over curiously. “Dude, this is awesome. It’s like you were meant to be part of the turtle squad.”

You chuckled, sitting beside him. “Maybe. He’s pretty low-maintenance, but he’s good company.”

Mikey glanced at you, his smile softening. “You’re pretty good company too, you know.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you nudged him playfully. “Thanks, Mikey.”

He leaned closer to the tank, watching Mr. Wiggles with a twinkle in his eye. “Man, I think I just found my new best friend.”

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. Mikey’s joy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have him—and your tiny turtle companion—in your life.

[chadobi]

I'm frothing at the mouth for your bayverse donnie, you write him so well, thank you for being amazing!

Thank u so much! So if you like my way of writing bay Donnie i will give you one! Enjoy 💜

“Move With Me”

Bayverse Donatello x Reader

It was late. The kind of late where the city felt distant, quiet — just a hum behind concrete and steel. And in the heart of the lair, Donatello’s lab was glowing with cold light, flickering screens, and the soft buzz of machines running on fumes.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, just watching him. The way his brow was furrowed deep behind his purple mask, how his jaw clenched as he adjusted a cluster of wires with more force than necessary. The screen in front of him flashed with lines of code and a red error message that had popped up five, maybe six times now. You weren’t counting. But he definitely was.

He was in one of his spirals. You’d seen them before — when a plan didn’t go right, when tech wouldn’t cooperate, when the weight of being the genius of the team crushed down a little too hard on his back.

And every time, he convinced himself he had to fix it. Alone. Quietly. Efficiently. Even if it broke him in the process.

You stepped into the room on soft feet, mindful of scattered gadgets and wires on the floor.

Still, he didn’t look up.

You stood beside the worktable and leaned slightly toward him. “Donnie,” you said gently. No response. His fingers flew across the keyboard like he was racing something invisible. “You’re gonna burn out if you keep this up.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, not even pausing to look at you.

You frowned, shifting your weight. “You’re lying.”

That made him pause — just for a breath. His gaze flickered up to meet yours. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his expression was tight, like someone holding in a scream by the edges of his teeth.

“I have to get this finished,” he said. “Leo’s counting on me. The tracker’s still throwing false pings, and if we go out with that—if someone gets hurt because of a system I built—”

“Donnie.” You stepped in front of the table, placing yourself directly in his line of sight. “You’re not a machine. You don’t have to keep running until you fall apart.”

He blinked, startled by the sharpness in your voice — not harsh, but certain. Grounded.

You softened, then reached toward the little Bluetooth speaker on the shelf. It was dusty — he hadn’t used it in weeks, maybe months. But it still worked.

You tapped your phone against it and let the soft music begin.

The melody drifted through the air — something slow, something warm. Jazzy and nostalgic. The kind of song you might hear in a quiet cafe, or under the stars, or in someone’s living room where dancing wasn’t choreographed, just instinctive.

Donnie blinked again. “What are you—”

“Interrupting your spiral,” you said simply. “You need to get out of your head.”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or amused. “You think a song is gonna fix the tracking system?”

“No,” you replied, offering your hand to him. “But it might fix you. Just for a minute.”

His eyes dropped to your hand, then to your face. “I… I can’t dance.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered. “Just move with me.”

He stared at you for a long moment — visibly torn, clearly exhausted. But eventually, he pushed back from the table and stood. Not with grace. Not like he wanted to. But like he needed to.

His hand slid into yours. You gave it a gentle squeeze.

You pulled him slowly into the open space of the lab, your free hand resting lightly against his shoulder. His movements were stiff at first, uncertain. But you didn’t rush him.

You just swayed — simple steps, back and forth, side to side. Nothing choreographed. Just motion. Just presence.

He slowly settled into your rhythm, one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours with careful pressure. You didn’t speak. You just moved together, letting the music wrap around you like a quiet cocoon.

For the first time that night, his shoulders started to loosen.

“You’re overthinking,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“It’s literally my job,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

You smiled. “It’s not your whole identity, though.”

Silence. Just the quiet shuffle of his feet, the subtle dip of your hips. The way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand — a nervous habit, probably unconscious.

Then he whispered, almost like it hurt to say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Your chest ached.

You stopped swaying — just for a moment — and looked up into his eyes. “Because I love you,” you said, barely louder than the music.

He froze. Eyes wide. Breath shallow.

You leaned a little closer, forehead brushing against his chest.

“Even when you forget how to love yourself.”

He let out a shaky breath like it had knocked the wind out of him.

“Say that again,” he whispered, voice low and almost breaking.

You looked up and said it again — steady this time. “I love you.”

His hand lifted, almost uncertain, and cupped your cheek.

And then his mouth was on yours — hesitant and warm, like he was afraid you might disappear if he leaned in too hard. It was the kind of kiss that asked permission. That tasted like vulnerability, and softness, and finally.

You kissed him back, slow and sure, grounding him in the now. In you.

When you pulled away, his eyes were still closed. His forehead rested lightly against yours.

“You’re everything I don’t deserve,” he breathed.

You smiled gently, your thumb brushing his wrist. “You’re everything I choose.”

The music faded into silence.

And for once, Donnie let the rest of the world fall away — machines humming, code blinking, problems waiting — just long enough to breathe in your arms.

Just long enough to believe he was loved.

[dysfunctional-doodle]

I have been uh kinda busy as always and so I have a few sketches/wips that I’m just gonna throw on here. The first one is from a comic im working on, and the other is for an anon who wanted me to draw the other half of the bay boys in my style (sorry leo, you were never completed even a little)

I hate drawing the bayverse turtles stop making me draw them dammit

-> Commissions || My Kofi <-

[turtlecleric]

Hang on actually @luckycharms1701 I'm imagining something specific now.

Mikey's never been shy about asking questions. Some of the shit he comes up with is borderline insane, honestly, and the fam is pretty much used to it. Lately though? He's been asking some really weird, really specific questions.

“Hey, Donnie, how hard would it be to make something that gave me more fingers? Ones that I could move? Oh. Yeah, no, that's cool. Just wondering.”

“Raph! Raph, hey Raph! If I make this face, do I look like I'm asking a question or is it, like, coming off as angry? Ahhh very funny, dude! No seriously, though.”

“Be honest, Leo. When I don't understand something, how stupid does my face look. No, man, come on, just be honest.”

“April! Love you, missed you, glad you're here, but I gotta ask real quick: What do I smell like? Like is it obvious that I live in a sewer? It's- REALLY?? Oh that's good, that's- no, no reason!”

He's also been spending a lot of time doing… who knows what. Running off on his own after patrols. Slipping out of the lair when no one else is paying attention. It isn't until the third time Raph goes looking for him, only to realize he isn't anywhere in the lair, that the brothers decide to actually pay attention and follow him the next time he slips out.

They don't have to wait long. The very next day, he's out and running as soon as lunch is over. They follow from a safe distance, trading jokes and theories the whole way. When he finally stops, standing on a roof, they watch from afar. He's fidgeting more than usual. Almost like he's waiting for-

Oh. Oh my god.

When you appear, Mikey lights up like the sun. He starts gesturing excitedly, visibly fumbling his way through a series of signs, and when you smile up at him and start to smoothly sign back the other three brothers share a flabbergasted look.

“Well boys,” Splinter says behind them, making each of them jump. When had he… “It seems we need to start learning sign language.”

imagine mikey

that’s it that’s the post

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Bay Mikey (re)design

Click for unfuzziness

[minutemanblues]

so, still replaying, and i catched the second dialogue option that not so many people know of because it's really hard to fuck up while just driving to Paleto Bay

[ferox-imagines]

“Mark“ based on this

[omegabenaeart]

ADHD KICKED IN, GOT A NEW HYPERFIXATION TO BOTHER YOU GUYS WITH

Tutant

Meenage

Neetle

Teetles

Bonus Donnie under the cut 👍

This motherfucker cannot see without his glasses

[donniesgirlie]

Believe it or not, the plan was Raph fluff, but the idea got sad and vague as soon as I opened the draft.

Og idea coming soon? If y'all want it lmk

"5 more minutes?": Your Choice x GN! Reader

.

It's still dark when his alarm goes off. You lay on your bed with one of his heavy arms locking your back to his chest; the cool press of his plastron through your sleep shirt -his old, way oversized tee- a comforting one.

The shrill beeping of the alarm, on the other hand, is the opposite of comforting. It's your reminder that he's not yours. Not really. He belongs to the night - a phantom sweeping over the heads of hundreds of sleeping people that will never know the capable hands that safeguard their lives.

It's nothing new, though. You knew from the start that he belongs to the icy touch of Nyx more than he will ever belong to you.

Belonging...

The very thing that keeps him from you:

The inability to belong that was cast upon him by the same people he's sworn to protect. It's a cruel irony that those he's saved countless times are the very ones that are the first to yell "freak" and "monster" at the sight of him.

It's shifting behind you that forces you from your thoughts. Just as fast as the alarm sounded, he shuts it off. The movement sets you in motion. Rolling over, you're met with tired eyes, awake way too early; they soften when they meet your own. A sickeningly sweet look that makes you want to melt into him like some sick experiment gone wrong.

"G'morning," His voice is gruff in the silent, barely-morning air.

"5 more minutes?" you plead. The first rays of light no doubt peaking over the horizon, taunting you with how little time you have left.

[turtlecleric]

CWs: thoughts of suicide, suicide attempt

-

There are no stars here.

There were stars in the country. You remember staring up at them on nights when you couldn't sleep, getting lost in the constellations until your eyes got heavy enough to stay closed. Here, though, when you look up, there's just… darkness. An endless expanse of nothing. Almost like the stars themselves decided it wasn't worth it anymore to stick around. Light pollution, smog, yeah yeah, you know. But maybe… maybe the stars just decided to leave. To start fresh.

Or maybe… they decided to finally rest.

The wind cuts through your thin jacket, chilling your skin. Your feet sway where they hang in the air, over the side of the roof, and when you lean forward, peering down at the city below, you think you should be feeling some sort of vertigo. A bit of fear, maybe. Instead you feel… nothing. Just cold, and stiff, and tired.

You miss the stars. But you understand why they left.

The city is a blur of light and movement. There are thousands of people down there, even now, at this late hour, going about their lives. It's so busy here. Always busy and bustling and alive in a way that doesn't come naturally to you.

Out of place. That's what you are. That's what you've always been. But not for much longer.

“What are you doing?” a voice stage-whispers nearby. You inhale sharply, whirling around to see… nothing. You scan the empty roof, eyes wide, your heart lodged in your throat. There shouldn't be anyone up here. You checked to make sure when you first came up, and there had been no one. If someone had come through the door, you would've heard the heavy, ancient thing creaking on its hinges, and the ladder is to your right, so you would've seen if someone came up the fire escape. So there shouldn't be anyone up here.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I know this is weird or whatever,” the voice continues. It sounds like… a guy. Honestly, he sounds like a fucking dork, with the way he's whispering so loudly. “It's just that, like, Leo would kill me if I let myself get seen, but you've been here for a while and it's pretty late, or- I don't know, early? Whatever, but I had to check on you, y'know? So, like, are you good?”

…This is weird. Right? Yeah, this is definitely weird. The guy, wherever he is, doesn't… sound like someone you need to worry about, though. Something about the way he talks makes you feel like… talking back.

“I'm good,” you say slowly, the words feeling foreign in your mouth. You twist around further, still scanning the empty roof for signs of movement. “How did you… get up here?”

“Uhhhhhh same way you did?”

Okay so he's a terrible liar. Despite everything, it makes the corner of your mouth twitch upward. “Right. Sure.” You scoot back and swing both legs back up so you can stand, your muscles protesting from sitting still for so long. You take a few steps away from the ledge, peering around you. “And where are you exactly?”

His voice goes from a stage whisper to a cheesy imitation of a ghost, and yeah, okay, this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you, but you can't help laughing when he croons, “I'm a hallucinaaatioooon.”

“Uh huh. A hallucination.” There are a few vents on the roof. You start to walk between them, circling each one in the hope that you'll find this guy crouched behind one, but no such luck. “A hallucination that will get in trouble with the big boss for being seen? Is that what you said?”

“Pshhhh Leo isn't the boss of me. Well, I- I guess like sort of, in a way, but not like- I mean- Dad is the- okay, no, we were talking about you. What are you doing up here? Aren't you cold?”

You cross your arms, feeling a bit petulant at the question, though you're not sure why. Yes, you're cold. But it's… fine. “Are you cold?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” You hear a nervous chuckle from… somewhere. “Donnie does that when I'm being- oh shit, am I bothering you right now? I am, aren't I? I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll- sorry, I'll let you get back to, uh, sitting.”

“No!” You reach out a hand toward nothing, feeling more than a little silly as you continue to look around you in vain. The roof is still empty. “No, please, I…”

You… what? Want to keep talking? Missed feeling seen? Maybe he is a hallucination. Maybe this is your brain's last attempt at stopping you. But… it's true. You do want to keep talking.

That's just pathetic, isn't it? Sad, lonely little girl, wanting to be seen so badly that she'll hallucinate someone to ask if she's okay. There's no one here. You're alone.

You're alone.

Everything you had been feeling before you came up here returns, all at once, like a crashing wave, smothering you beneath the crushing pressure. Your throat tightens. Your lungs burn. There's a fog in your mind and a black hole in your chest and you're shivering but it's not from the cold.

…You've put this off long enough. It's time to stop pretending.

Your shoes scuff against the roof as you approach the ledge. A gust of wind makes you sway dangerously, and you think you hear the voice again, but the roaring in your ears is too loud.

Just one more step. One more step. One more. Just. Just-

Something yanks you by the arm, and you stumble backward, bumping into something big and solid. You're wildly disoriented for a few seconds, still getting your feet steady beneath you, and then you look up to see…

Okay. You're definitely hallucinating.

“What are you doing?!” The man (??) asks, frantic concern etched into every line of his face.

His face. Green skin. No hair. And no ears, and more of a snout than a nose, and a- a mask over his eyes? For some reason? You're officially losing it.

The man snaps his fingers - there are fewer than there should be, you notice - in your face, and his other hand rests on your shoulder, holding you in place. “Focus on me, angel, okay? Can you hear me? Are you okay? What were you doing?”

He's talking so fast you don't even get a chance to answer each question before he's asking the next. You stand there, watching him fret, and Jesus, he's huge. With a big… something? On his back? A shell? You look him up and down and back up again before you finally find your voice.

“Are you a turtle?”

He stops moving, going quiet, and seems to suddenly realize something. His expression turns sheepish, almost afraid, and he pulls his hands back to fidget with them in front of his stomach. You feel unmoored without the weight of his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, actually. I am. Sorry, I… guess I should've… I'm… I'm Mikey.”

Mikey. There's no way this is real. Still, it feels rude to not introduce yourself in turn. Mikey seems to relax when you tell him your name, but the concern returns quickly, and this time when he speaks, he does so quietly.

“What were you doing?”

Is this… your brain trying to… get you to face what you're trying to do? Somehow? You know what you're trying to do. You've been thinking about it for months. Where were these hallucinations before you quit your job? Before you sold nearly everything you own and let your lease run out and cut off the few people who have tried to make a connection with you since you moved here? You're so tired. You're so…

“You know what I was doing, Mikey.”

There's silence as you stare at each other. You watch his expression shift from confusion to dread to sadness. He looks from you to the edge of the roof and back, and his eyes start to water, and you can't, you can't, you can't do this. That's not fair. It's not fair for your mind to come up with a giant turtle man and then make you feel bad for him being sad. That's fucking ridiculous!

…But you do. Feel bad. Mikey looks lost, and scared, and sad - and you hate it.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Mikey makes an aborted movement with his arms, then shakes his head. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Can I hug you?”

Well, now, this really is pathetic, isn't it? When was the last time someone hugged you? Is your brain that desperate for comfort?

…What do you have to lose?

As soon as you nod, Mikey puts his arms around you and pulls you close. His arms shake, just a little, but you feel secure in his hold. Your cheek rests against his chest, and it's… oddly firm. Textured. Warmer than the air, but still a bit cool to the touch. You can feel his chest moving as he breathes. It feels so real. And you… you don't want him to let go.

It's pathetic, fine, sure, whatever, you don't care, but when you start to sob and he only holds you tighter, you're so, so thankful that he's here.

You let yourself cry. He stays quiet, a steady presence that keeps you grounded, and when your sobs turn to sniffles, he's still holding you. It still feels real. It can't be real, it can't be, but honestly? Fuck it. Fuck everything. You really, truly, do not care. It feels good to be held. It feels good to be seen. To be… cared for. Your brain can hallucinate whatever it wants at this point, as long as Mikey is there, too.

When he starts to pull back, you cling to him. Embarrassing. Whatever. He stops pulling away though, holding you close again.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks.

“Don't have one anymore.”

“Oh. My bad.”

For some reason, that makes you smile. Your hallucination, which manifested because you were going to kill yourself, is apologizing for not knowing that you were homeless, which you did in preparation for said killing of said self. Yeah, no, that's funny. That's fucking hilarious.

Maybe you're a little sleep deprived, actually.

“Can I…” Mikey hesitates, his fingers tapping against where he's still holding you. “Do you maybe want to stay with me? For tonight? It's pretty late, so… you'll need a place to sleep, yeah? N-Not that I was, like, saying that- I mean, I'll take the couch obviously, so-”

Oh my god. He'd be sort of adorable if he were real. You let him stumble over his words for juuust a little longer before putting him out of his misery. “That sounds nice, Mikey.”

“Ye-Yeah? Okay. Okay. Cool. So I'll. Um.”

You yelp as he shifts his arms and picks you up like it's nothing, carrying you bridal-style. You look up at him with wide eyes, and he smiles hesitantly down at you. “Ready?”

You blink. Ready for… what? But, as you've already clearly established in your head, you're done questioning things. So. You nod.

“Alright. Uh. Don't freak out. Here we go.”

Don't freak- JESUS CHRIST. The air whips past you as he sprints across the roof and leaps into the fucking air. For a split second you're sure that you actually did step off the roof, that the hallucination has finally ended and it was just your brain scrambling to make shit up in the moment before you plummeted to your death - but then you feel the impact of Mikey landing on something and continuing his sprint. Then it happens again, a leap and a free fall and another impact, and then it happens again, and you realize he's- he's jumping between roofs. Carrying you across the city from way up here. How-

Nope. Nope. Not asking questions. Doesn't matter. He's got you. That's what matters. You press closer, loosely curling your fingers around a leather strap that's crossing over his chest. Another leap, and you think you're sort of, kind of, maybe getting used to it. There's a sort of rhythm to it, and you let yourself relax. You wonder if the rhythm is soothing or if you're just that exhausted. You wonder if any part of this is real. You wonder if you're falling asleep or falling to your death.

It doesn't matter, you decide. Either way, you'll finally be able to rest.

[httpvomitello]

Oi amore (also br lol)

Ok hear me out, miscommunication Headcanon but with a bit of spice, what if! Tmnt boys (separated, like a Headcanon for each turtle) and reader hooked up (like… on accident lmao, idk they got heated after a discussion, mission or drinking and it happened, and it *kept happening* without them having “the talk” of feelings and all, it’s mutual but the turtle and reader are afraid of commenting on it)

After their last hook up reader is silent + looks troubled; when the boys finally ask what’s wrong reader hits them up with the question “what are we? What do you want to be?” And out of defense mechanism the boys respond they just wanna keep it as it is, (they are afraid of reader not desiring something more / thinking they deserve better, etc) to stick to something physical, which leads reader to pull back a bit on how affectionate they were and become reserved? Cold? Calculated? They do deliver what they are told, both reader x turtle are still physical, but cuddling, kissing, anything the reader used to do, they don’t anymore; and turtles miss that?

(Does this make sense ? I hope so! If not you can ignore it, thank you 🫶)

Eai, amore! Tudo bom? Fiquei feliz em ver mais um BR por aqui ksksks. Espero que goste! ♡♡♡♡

What Are We?

Leonardo

Leo never intended for things to escalate the way they did

It started after a particularly tough mission, emotions were high, and you both needed an outlet

One thing led to another, and suddenly, you two were hooking up. At first, he convinced himself it was just physical

You both needed comfort, and it was mutual, no big deal, right? But it kept happening

It became something regular, yet unspoken, and that scared him

You’d just finished another night together, and while you’re lying beside him, there’s a silence that feels heavy

Leo can tell something’s on your mind

When you finally ask, “What are we? What do you want us to be?” it’s like a punch to his chest. He freezes

His immediate instinct is to protect himself, and maybe protect you too

So, he says, “I think it’s best we keep it how it is.” He’s afraid. Afraid of wanting more, afraid you don’t want the same, and afraid of getting too close

After that, something shifts

You stop with the little affections, the way you used to touch his arm, the gentle kisses you’d leave on his cheek

You still hook up, but it’s mechanical now. No cuddles, no lingering touches

Just sex.

At first, Leo tries to tell himself it’s better this way. Less complicated. But soon, the silence after each encounter starts gnawing at him

He misses the intimacy, the connection

He misses you.

One night, after you leave his side without a word, Leo can’t take it anymore

He stands in front of you, blocking the door. “I don’t want this anymore,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. I do want more. I want you, all of you.”

He looks at you with those piercing blue eyes, vulnerability written all over his face

Maybe... Just maybe, you could start over.

Raphael

For Raph, it all started after a heated argument

The two of you were butting heads about something stupid, and in the midst of all that frustration, you ended up in each other’s arms, and bed

It became your thing, no feelings talked about, just raw, physical connection

For Raph, it was perfect

Until it wasn’t.

After your last encounter, you sit up in bed, looking troubled. Raph’s stomach twists as he watches you hesitate before asking,

“What are we, Raph? What do you want this to be?”

His defenses go up immediately. Feelings? Talk about feelings? He’s terrified that you’ll think he’s too much, or worse, that you don’t actually want more with someone like him

So, he shrugs, pretending not to care. “Why mess with what’s workin’? It’s fine like this, ain’t it?”

You take his words to heart, and the change is immediate. You pull back

No more playful touches, no more affectionate kisses after your hookups

Everything between you two becomes colder, more distant. It’s just physical now, and Raph hates it

He tells himself this is what he wanted, but every time you get up to leave without a word, it tears him apart

He misses the way you used to look at him, the softness in your touch

After another cold, emotionless encounter, Raph snaps

He grabs your arm before you can leave, his voice rough and vulnerable. “I can’t do this anymore. I want more. I need more. I need you,” he admits, his heart racing. “Don’t pull away from me.”

Donatello

For Donnie, it started with a late-night research session

You were hanging out in his lab, the two of you laughing and talking about random things, and before he realized what was happening, you were in each other’s arms

It caught him off guard, but the chemistry was undeniable

The hookups became regular, but Donnie, ever the overthinker, analyzed every second of it

He never brought up his feelings because he was scared of ruining things, scared that you didn’t want more than the physical

After your last hookup, Donnie notices you’re quieter than usual, and his anxiety spikes

When you finally turn to him and ask, “What are we, Donnie?” He panics

His heart is screaming to tell you how much you mean to him, but his brain is warning him that you might not feel the same

In a rush, he says, “I think we should keep it as it is. It’s working, right?”

After that conversation, everything changes

You stop with the soft touches, the gentle kisses, the affectionate moments that used to make Donnie’s heart soar

Now it’s just the physical, and Donnie feels hollow inside

He misses the closeness, the warmth you used to give him. Every time you leave, he stares at the door, aching for things to go back to the way they were

One afternoon, after another silent, distant encounter, Donnie can’t take it anymore

He stops you before you can leave, his voice shaky but determined. “I can’t do this,” he says, his eyes pleading with you. “I was wrong. I want more. I want... us.”

Michelangelo

For Mikey, the whole thing started as something fun

You were always teasing each other, and one night, things escalated

It was easy, natural, and Mikey thought it was the best of both worlds. You two had chemistry, and the physical touch was exciting

He didn’t see any reason to mess with it by having “the talk"

Deep down, though, he was scared you wouldn’t want more with someone like him

After your last hookup, you sit in silence for a while, and Mikey feels the tension

He tries to lighten the mood, but when you finally ask, “What do you want us to be?”

He freezes

The idea of confessing how much he wants you scares him. What if you don’t feel the same? What if you think he’s too much?

So, he jokes it off, saying, “I mean, we’re good, right? No need to complicate things, babe.”

After that, things change

You stop with the affection, no more playful touches, no more sweet moments after your hookups. Everything becomes cold, and Mikey feels the shift immediately

He misses the way you used to cuddle into him, the way you’d kiss him softly when you thought he wasn’t looking

Now, everything feels like a transaction, and Mikey hates it

One day, after another cold, distant encounter, Mikey breaks

“I miss you,” he blurts out, his voice shaky. “Not just... this. I miss you. I don’t wanna keep pretending like I don’t care, because I do. I want more. I want you.”

[chadobi]

I promise guys , I’ll get to your requests soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy this one💜

“Under a Blanket of Code”

Bayverse!Donatello x Reader

The power had flickered out about an hour ago.

Mikey screamed something about the pizza oven dying and Raph immediately took it as a sign of the apocalypse. Leo was trying to organize a response plan, but Donnie had already disappeared into the darker parts of the lair—heading toward his lab like a man on a mission.

You didn’t even ask. You just followed him.

It was quiet in his workspace. He had a few emergency lights wired up, casting everything in deep purple and gold. Small LEDs blinked from different shelves, some flickering faintly like fireflies. In the middle of it all, Donnie was crouched beside a stack of servers, furiously typing on a portable rig.

You leaned in the doorway, watching him. He muttered something about “backup fuses” and “secondary distribution lines,” and then paused.

“I know you’re there,” he said without looking. “And I’m not mad. Just… mildly panicked.”

You smiled. “I brought tea.”

That made him glance up. His glasses caught a soft glint of blue from a nearby monitor, and he blinked, surprised. “Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He took the thermos from you awkwardly, hands still faintly buzzing with static.

“Want some company?” you asked gently. “I figured you might need backup.”

Donnie hesitated for a second too long. Then he nodded. “Actually… yeah. That would be nice.”

He gestured to a low platform on the floor surrounded by wires, toolboxes, and glowing screens. You kicked off your shoes and stepped carefully between cables. A fuzzy blanket was already half-draped over the space, clearly something Mikey had tossed aside days ago.

You plopped down, crossing your legs. “So what’s the damage?”

“Main power grid’s fried,” Donnie murmured, sitting beside you. “Generator’s holding up, but I’m going to need to do a manual reroute.” He adjusted his glasses with a tired sigh. “In the meantime, I figured… might as well make the place livable.”

He grabbed a small remote and tapped a button. A string of soft purple lights lit up overhead—cheap LED strips, flickering slightly, but warm in their own way.

“Donnie,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you build yourself a tech blanket fort?”

He looked flustered. “No. I mean—not intentionally. I was optimizing work conditions, and the blanket just… enhances acoustic absorption and comfort for long-term programming sessions.”

“So,” you grinned, “a blanket fort.”

He huffed. “Fine. Yes. A highly advanced blanket fort.”

You giggled and tucked the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “I love it.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Of course. It’s kind of perfect.” You leaned back slightly. “It’s warm, quiet, glowy… and it smells like solder and coffee. Very ‘you.’”

Donnie was silent for a beat. Then, he mumbled, “I wasn’t sure you’d like it down here.”

You turned to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shifted awkwardly, fingers fidgeting with a loose wire. “Most people… wouldn’t exactly enjoy sitting in a dark lab full of failing circuits and overheating processors.”

“I’m not most people,” you said softly.

Donnie didn’t respond at first. He looked down at the blanket, at the way it pooled around the two of you, and then carefully set aside the laptop.

“You know,” he started, voice lower now, “sometimes I forget there’s a world outside this lab. Not in a dramatic way, just… I get stuck in my head. The math, the logic, the endless systems I can’t control—sometimes that’s all I focus on.”

You were quiet, letting him talk.

“And then you show up,” he continued. “With tea. And sarcasm. And blankets.” His gaze lifted to meet yours. “And suddenly the world feels… a little quieter. Like the code finally compiled.”

You smiled, heart thudding gently in your chest. “Is that your way of saying you like having me here?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. Then cleared his throat. “I mean—logically speaking, your presence has a statistically significant impact on my overall mood and cognitive focus.”

“Donnie,” you said, nudging his arm with your elbow, “just say you like me.”

He went red. Deep red. The color crept all the way to his bandana. “I—okay—fine. I like you. A lot.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder. He froze for a second, then slowly, slowly relaxed under the pressure.

“I like you too,” you whispered.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but you felt it—the soft exhale, the way his hand curled just slightly closer to yours under the blanket. He didn’t need grand declarations. Not tonight.

You sat together in the tech-fort, surrounded by quiet buzzes and blinking lights, with the world outside temporarily short-circuited.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chippergoose]

I can't stop laughing at how much this looks like me dealing with my reactive dog

[fluffytriceratops]

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐨 [𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞]

notes: mikey's reaction to y/n pulling him in for a kiss by his belt. here you are, here's your food. i hope you enjoy! raphies next~~

click here to read leo's ver.

click here to read donnie's ver.

click here to read raph's ver.

warnings: mature language, nsfw mentions/sexual themes.

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1

(if you wish to be tagged in my future tmnt related work, feel free to lemme know and i'll happily tag you!)

i love you all sm! have a lovely day/night! i'm sending you the very many virtual hugs!! <33

---

- eyes would widen visibly and face would immediately be swamped in a smirk.

- "oh ho ho, watcha doin' there mama?" he'd coo. grabbing for your bum and giving it a hearty squeeze.

- you'd lean up and brush your lips against his own teasingly.

- giving him a sly smile before slipping away from him.

- "oh no you don't-" before you get the chance to take more than a single step, his hands find you and suddenly you're pressed against his chest again.

- this time mikey places his lips firmly against your own.

- you melt into the kiss and he uses this chance to slide his tongue into your mouth.

- he slips his hands underneath your ass and lifts you up, instinctively you wrap your legs around him.

- when you both pull away from the kiss, panting heavily, he presses his forehead against your own. beaming at you cheekily.

- "do that again, and i'll have to take you to the bedroom." he'd shrug. "not that I'm complaining."

- your eyebrows would raise and a teasing smile would crawl onto your lips.

- "shall we put that to the test, michelangelo?"

- hearing his full name caused him to visibly shiver and he churred.

- if you were alone, he'd take you there, not even bothering to go as far as the bedroom. there was no time for that.

- but if you weren't, he'd take you to his room (or a room void of other people).

- neither of you were quiet.

- and if there were people around, they'd leave so quickly because they knew exactly what was happening.

- he'd praise you left and right, his mouth would never leave you. whether he was kissing your body or your lips. both were good.

- your skin would be littered with bruises from his hands, his mouth, etc.

- not that you minded~

- you'd praise him in return, with your words and your actions.

- he was probably louder than you were.

- but you loved to hear his moans.

- "fuck baby-" was heard A LOT.

- mikey is very submissive and breedable. 👁🫦👁👌✨

- and once you were finished, mikey gave the best after care.

- kisses and snuggles and comfort food. watching a comfort movie/show.

- and you'd probably fuck a few more times after that too.

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Running never works out for you in the end, does it?

Alt below

Obligatory @luckycharms1701 come get ur guy