TMNT X Reader - Blog Posts

he just gives the cutest pet names guys, how could I resist?

when you want to read a specific type of fanfic, try to find it, that plan is unsuccessful, and then you realise you have to be the one to write exactly what you want to read:

What should I do next??

∆

Hello hello!! Saw you were asking for Leo requests so here I am! Could I please have Leo with a male s/o who absolutely loves telling him how strong and handsome he is? Just constant compliments and affection for our blue guy if you don't mind! Thank you!

2012! Leonardo X Male! Reader: Complements! and Affection! Headcannons

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Hello! I turned this into headcannons, I hope that’s ok! This was a lot of fun. I’m sorry I slightly strayed away from what you asked, there is a bit of angst and Leo’s self doubt in here. I really like 2012 Leo, I think his character was shown perfectly. I will be opening requests for TMNT 2007, 2012, 2014-2016, and 2018. Any character and any style of writing so send in your requests :)!

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* When you two first met, it honestly was love at first sight.

* You loved everything about him. His perfect green skin, his hard shell, but what you loved the most, where his eyes.

* They shown a brilliant ice blue in the dark night, almost as if you could see them from a few miles away.

* You loved him so much. Everything about him was flawless.

* For him, he loved everything about you. Your perfect hair, your beautiful skin. Everything.

* You two would constantly share your point of view with the other, making the opposite blush at such words.

* But some days, Leo would fall into a crippling depression, finding his in-human self disguising. It could last minutes up to a week, and you always hated every second of it, despising that he couldn’t see his own beauty.

* Currently, today was one of those days that you found yourself facing the leader in blue’s room, giving a gentle knock at the door.

* A soft grunt was heard, allowing you entry. You slowly pushed open the door to find your beloved face first in his sheets, she’ll shaking from his soft cries.

* You released a small sigh as you walked over to his side, placing a gentle hand on top of his shell, giving it a small rub of comfort.

* You felt him nuzzle against your thigh, his tears wetting your pants slightly, but you couldn’t care less if you where being honest.

* “Hey handsome”. You softly whispered into the shell of his ear. “What’s wrong”? You already knew what was wrong, but you needed to make sure.

* “The usual”. Ah well-it’s always good to check.

* You gently pulled his head up to meet your soft lips. You pulled away, gently rubbing a thumb over the tear stains against his cheeks.

* “Babe, we went over this”. You stared while pulling him into a gentle hug while you laid back in his bed, bringing him with you. “You are perfect in every way, nothing will ever change that”.

* He pulled you closer, basking in your warmth while he inhaled your scent. Everything about you was just so perfect and he could never understand how you fell in love with him.

* He let out a deep sigh, knowing he could never argue with you hand have it turn out in his favor.

* “I love you so much Leo, and don’t you every forget it”.

* “I love you too”.

Fear Won’t Strike Twice

Hurt! Donatello X GN! Reader

|Author note: Thank you for your request! I’ve always loved the concept of Donnie getting his soft shell scratched tf up. I had a blast with this and hope you enjoy it! This is based on Season 2 Episode 2, but the outcome of the attack on Donnie has been altered for plotline purposes.| EDIT: HELP I FORGOT TO PUT IT UNDER THE ASK, THIS IS FOR @queenwoomy

|WARNINGS: Lot’s of blood, Angsty shit, Donnie being a little bitch, Reader being a loving S/O, Angst, Hurt with comfort, Mentioned sex scene (Donnie is of age in this story), slight making out, Worried S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, Reader slaps tf out of Donnie|

|Word Count: 1,808 words/10,583 characters|

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯

        The concept of what was going on was almost too hard to grasp. The internal fear of what hit the ground- of who hit the ground with a sickening thud and a scream of pain stuck in your mind. And it will remain in your mind till the end of your days. At some point, you heard a shout; probably from Raphael, but you couldn’t tell; echo off the walls of the alleyway, making the remaining turtles turn to face what had happened to their beloved sassy brother. Before your broken form laid Donatello, covered in his own blood. His mask on his face was shredded, revealing a clawed-up face that was unsightly to anyone who saw it. His hands and arms harbored claw marks as well, the wounds deep enough to require stitches. But all of it was just child’s play. Your eyes shifted to his battle shel- where was his battle shell? Where was his battle shell?! 

        Looking around frantically, your eyes finally found the beloved piece of tech-or, what was left of it. The entire thing was ripped away from its owner and destroyed into what seemed like, millions of pieces. You dreaded returning your gaze to your boyfriend, heart-stopping as you spotted his ever-so-delicate shell. The ridges on the bottom of his shell were torn off, leaving some of the soft tissue exposed for everyone to see. Four long deep cuts; which punctured through his shell, reaching the delicate skin beneath; raked down the surface, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. You couldn’t see, eyesight blotched with spots of white, but you felt yourself get dragged away from your lover (Probably by Leonardo, you couldn’t tell) as you could hear Raphael and Michelangelo rush to Donnie. You remember you screamed, scratching Leo’s hands for him to let go of you so you could return to the blood-soaked turtle’s side. At some point, you got free, running back to your original spot, you needed to know he was ok, or at least alive. 

        Leo was quick on your tail, gaining his grip once again to pull you back once more, shouting at you, pleading you to calm down. To stay sane. You don’t remember much, knowing that you felt nothing, only pure rage. Rage that built up and made you shed hot tears that quickly rolled down your cheeks. Your eyesight left you, running off in your time of need, leaving you with blinding rage. You didn’t see Shredder running off towards the fireworks on the boat. You didn’t see the fear in all of the brother’s eyes. Mikey had never seen so much blood. He wasn’t smiling like his usual, playful self. He cried. Hard. Raph tried to stay strong. He was the leader, and right now they needed a leader, but his fear stink filled the alley. Leo, whilst holding you back, was probably scared the most. Seeing his beloved twin (though Donnie would disagree) laying limp in front of him. 

        You didn’t see them drag Donnie’s lifeless body to the manhole, delicate with him but rushing to save their brother. You didn’t see Splinter’s reaction, fear etched on his scrunched-up face, tears slowly beginning to fall at the sight of his second youngest son. You didn’t see S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s face, but could vaguely hear his worried sobs, lines of unspoken code reaching out, trying to communicate to his father. His maker.  

        Time moved so slowly. Too slow. The incident felt so long ago, but only a week has passed. You weren’t allowed to see Donnie, weren’t even allowed to be near the room he was held in, and it hurt. While time passed, you and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N kept each other company. You never left the lair to go home, besides on the first day, when you left to bring stuff to stay in the lair for however long was needed. You slept in Donnie’s bed, Face always in the pillows, huffing his scent, which began to fade after the 4th day from lack of use from its owner. No one disturbed you, per your request. 

        At night, you would stay in his bedroom, and during days, you would be locked up in his lab. Not to build something, but to feel closer to him. You two would always have long talks about his fucked up sleep schedule after you found him asleep on his lab table, a newly-build battle shell in his clutches. You felt yourself chuckle softly at the memory that played in your mind. He would always say he would go the bed, but you learned over time that those words were just something to give you else hope as he would tinker away for another two hours. He would only stop when you would gently kiss him on his lips and softly lead him to his bed, detaching his battle shell and removing his mask while you set him down and climbed in with him, snuggling up to his soft plastron as he would share exciting news about his achievements softly while you would gently rub his back. 

        You missed him, even though he wasn’t dead. He was recovering and you were grateful, but you wished he would wake up from his medically induced coma so you could scold him angrily about how stupid he was. How stupid he was to scare you the way he did. You missed him so much. You missed his egotistical remarks, awkward hugs, and passionate kisses behind locked doors. You missed the way you two would make love. His ‘bad boy’ persona was left at the door as he would savor your skin, leaving your neck covered in dark purple splotches. He never thought of himself during sex, always making it his goal to satisfy your wants and needs, and never wanting anything in return. You longed for his soft touch again, to feel him in between your legs once more. You missed his soft moans, they always sounded like smooth silk waving through a gentle, warm summer breeze. You miss the way he held you after you both would clean up, keeping you as close as physically possible to his plastron. You missed the way he would quietly churr as you would softly rub his shell.

        In his absence, you shared Donnie’s plush bed with his son, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, his curling up into your chest, seeking your warmth. With how far you and Donatello’s relationship has god, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N has begun to call you his mother, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. You laid your hand gently on his metal back, slowly moving up to his ears, which you gave a gentle scratch just like how Donnie taught you when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N was first created. You loved the little drone, seeing him as your son practically. He nuzzled into you, softly letting out mechanical purrs at your touch. He missed his father. For the first few days, he lay in denial, refusing to believe his father was gravely injured, but finally accepted it in the past few days and sought you out for comfort. You both sought each other. 

        Days went by, and you heard nothing about your lover’s condition from his brothers. They would come to check on you multiple times a day and make sure you were eating and showering, but when asked about Donatello, they remained quiet. Splinter locked himself away most days, only coming out at night to get food, and he lost his taste in the television, finding it boring while he remained locked up. No one heard a word from April, but that was expected, she didn’t take the news lightly. The brothers had their own way of grief, all involving violence and yelling. Sometimes Mikey would come to the lab and talk with you, try to keep your spirits up despite the attack. You enjoyed his company. It was needed.

        About 3 weeks have passed when you received a call from Leo. You never knew why he insisted on calling you instead of coming to you (it was probably because of your angry outbursts on everyone) but reluctantly, you picked it up. His voice was shaking, you couldn’t tell what emotion he was portraying but you just remember dropping your phone, picking S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N up quickly, and running to the medbay; leaving poor Leo on the phone, calling out your name. You ran like your life depended on it, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N asking what the hell you were doing before you both bolted through the medbay doors. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N  understood now. Laying on the bed, with a thick cast on his back, was Donnie. Awake and smiling softly at you. You dropped your ‘son’ as he let out a yelp of alarm and a string of coded curses. You ran to him and didn’t hesitate to jump on the bed, burying your face into his plastron as you released ugly sobs. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N  was beside you in an instant, showing his father about the same amount of affection as you did. You felt Donnie tilt you’re head up slightly before bringing your lips wet with tears to his chapped ones. You instantly melted into it, placing your arms around his neck, careful of his injury as your lips rolled against his in a fiery passion. You missed this. You missed him. Everything in that moment was just…perfect. Gently nibbling at your lip, Donnie made his way into your mouth, absorbing your flavor  like a starved man. With a soft moan, you felt his hands get slightly braver as they moved to cup your bottom before giving it a squeeze.

        “Ewww Dad”… S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s disgusted voice rung through the room as he pulled away, a slight blush present on his cheeks and neck. You chuckled softly before looking him in his eyes. He returned his gaze to you, smiling at you.

        “I missed yo-“. He was cut off by a harsh slap to his face. He revolted, lifting a hand to the place of impact.

        “How. Dare. You”. You snarled, placing your forehead against his, and grabbed his hand that was cradling his cheek, intertwining your fingers together. His face retorted from pain to confusion.

        “W-what”? More hot tears fell from your eyes.

        “How dare you scare me like that. Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was”? He looked away, a face full of shame. What could he say to make this better? You where pissed, scared, and concerned at the same time. You rested your head against his plastron again, silently sobbing as S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N nuzzled into your side. “I love you too much to let you go Donnie”.

        “I know babe, I love you too”.

📜~𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝔹𝕝𝕠𝕘~📜

Here you can find many writings about a bunch of different topics! This post here will be my introduction, rules, and collections page! It’s a good way to keep things organized and tidy while I’m beginning to grow in popularity. And speaking of popularity, I want to thank all of you for the support over the last year, it means so much and now that we are coming close to 200 (almost 300 now) (Edit: Almost 400 now) followers, I have really found my passion for writing! Now, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Introduction!

Hallo! My name is Coffee_Cupps, or Coffee for short! I am a German/American studying Psychology, History, and Language! I go by They/Them/He/Him and I am bisexual. My birthday is November 2nd and I’m currently working towards a degree in acting and technology. I have been writing for about 8 years now and have just recently (in the past two years) found out have to do a decent job on writing, thanks to my teachers. I’m in many fandoms but my interest in them come-and-go very easily. My longest fandom I’ve been in is Transformers, starting at G1. I’ve seen G1, IDW/MTMTE (including Lost Light), TFA, TFP, Bayverse, The Bumblebee Movie, RiD, and Cyberverse (I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more but I can’t think of them right now). My favorite character (they change a lot) are, MTMTE Nickel, Shockwave (any one of them), Soundwave (any one of them), MTMTE Ravage, MTMTE Rung, and MTMTE Whirl.

Fandoms I will write for:

Transformers

MHA (rarely)

Godzilla (2014, KoM, G v.s K)

Pokemon (rarely)

Hetalia

Villanos

Doctor who

Arcane

Harry Potter

Ninjago

TMNT (Main rn)

Writing Rules!

Requests: OPEN!

Can do;

Heavy angst

Smut

Fluff

Limes

HC’s

Triggering topics

Can’t do;

Active rape

Incest

Ageplay

Anything that has to do with sexualizing bodily fluids

Vore

(More will be added later)

I love talking with other people and stuff so, if you need to talk about anything, you can send me a message or an ask and I’ll get to you right away!

(This blog in a W.I.P!)

More will be added ASAP!

NOTE: NOT ALL REQUESTS WILL BE DONE, I AM A VERY BUSY PERSON SURPRISINGLY LOL)

Can I request rotmnt with anger issues teen!reader (gn, 15-16) who has difficulty with expressing that they see the turtles as their sibling figure? They don't wanna admit on how they see the turtles cuz if they said that the reader would be embarrassed due to how they were treated by their bio siblings about it so they just don't say anything, only that they are just friends.

A/N: Of course! Here's a set of headcanons for the Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (ROTTMNT) with an angry, reserved teen reader who secretly sees the turtles as sibling figures but has difficulty expressing it. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!

General Dynamics

The Turtles’ Initial Perception: At first, the turtles assume you’re just a moody, tough teenager who prefers to keep things casual. They respect your boundaries but are curious about the walls you’ve built around yourself

Your Struggles: You often lash out when things get too emotional or personal, fearing vulnerability might lead to mockery or rejection, like what you experienced with your biological siblings.

Silent Acts of Care: Despite your reluctance to express your feelings, you show you care in subtle ways—fixing things they break, grabbing their favorite snacks, or patching up their gear without being asked.

Individual Turtle Dynamics

Leonardo:

Leo teases you constantly, but he’s careful not to push too far when he senses you’re genuinely upset.

He makes lighthearted jokes about you being “the angsty middle sibling” to see if you’ll slip up and admit you see them as family.

When you’re overwhelmed, Leo offers distractions rather than deep talks—movies, video games, or spontaneous rooftop hangouts.

Raphael

Raph is incredibly protective of you, even if he doesn’t fully understand your emotional struggles. He sees you as part of the team, even if you insist you’re just “friends.”

He’s the first to notice your hidden acts of kindness, like repairing his punching bag or leaving protein bars in his gym bag.

During heated moments, Raph is the one to remind you it’s okay to be angry, but he also encourages you to channel it productively—sparring matches become your shared thing.

Donatello

Donnie appreciates how you quietly help out with his experiments or organize his tools when he’s too busy to do it himself. He doesn’t say it outright, but he considers it your way of bonding.

He’s great at giving you space when you need it but will also deliver blunt truths if he thinks you’re being too hard on yourself.

Donnie surprises you by creating small gadgets that help manage your anger—like stress-relief tools or a punching dummy that fights back (lightly).

Michelangelo

Mikey makes it his mission to break through your emotional barriers with kindness and persistence.

He often pulls you into group activities like cooking, painting, or prank wars, subtly reminding you that you’re part of their “family unit.”

Mikey is the one who comforts you during rare moments of vulnerability, assuring you that it’s okay to care about them without fear of rejection.

The turtles, being who they are, would likely accept you with open arms, helping you work through your anger and fears while showing you that family isn’t about blood—it’s about love and loyalty.

Statistical Improbability ♡ DonBot x Reader 《 Part 1 》

Summary: You are a lone human survivor in this apocaliptic wasteland. You've made it this far by avoiding any unnecessary conflict with the mutant savages of the desert. Slowly, your drive to survive, the idea that things might get better - more bearable - gets more distant every day as you continue to search for your lost family members.

Just as it seems barely getting through each day is the only thing left for you in this world, your radar picks up a strange reading in the middle of the desert.

Context: This takes place in the wasteland warrior alternative reality/arc. Reader is the last human in the wasteland, and she survived all these years in her futuristic trailer, which she calls Big Bertha.

For some reason, the reader was aware of the Kraang before the mutagen bomb went off. She's repurposed some of their tech for her prothestic arm as well as her trailer.

I have also taken some creative liberties with how DonBot came to be, in the show he is essentially a copy of Donnie's consciousness after his body was destroyed, which is a super dark SOMA-looking plot-point. But I wanted a different flavor of existential angst, so instead DonBot has Donnie's actual brain inside of him! How does that work? Science *jazz hands*

Warnings: Be warned, this is my first TMNT fanfic ever, read at our your discretion. Mixed POVs. Slowburn? Mentions of blood, mentions of a brain in a glass tank, alcohol, a whole bunch of swearing, strangers to reluctant friends trope ( to eventual lovers ), mentions of reader's mysterious backstory, filled with some general trauma and angst.

Word Count: Some 8k+ words

Reader's POV:

"Come back here, I'll turn you into my next leather jacket!" The shrill voice taunted you through a speaker, and you gritted your teeth, grabbing the wheel until your knuckles turned white.

From your rearview mirror you could see the savages closing in from all sides, until your mirror was blown away by a shotgun blast. You grit your teeth and turn the wheel sharply, Big Bertha buckled and groaned as you went off road.

"You want a piece of me?" You pull a speaker from your panel, answering the taunt with one of your own. "Gonna have to catch me first, jerks!"

A savage lunges onto the side of your trailer. He elbows your window, and pieces of glass rain down as the maniac cuts and slashes at your neck.

You dodge just in time for the machete to imbed itself in the leather of your chair. With a primal growl, you kick the door open full force, slamming it into the mutant's face. He staggers and claws at the door, but with a swift boot to the face, he crashes onto the harsh desert sand.

"Maybe taunting the people you stole from was not such a good idea." Bertha's sweet voice hums through the speakers.

"NOT NOW!" You slam your working fist on the middle of the steering wheel. A hidden emergeswith a mechanical *click*. You punch it with all your might, your trailer creaks and shakes as just outside a hidden compartment opens up, a minigun sliding into place, it's barrel spin with a deafening whine.

With near perfect precision it blasts round after round of high powers lasers at the brutes chasing you down. Motorcycles explode and are torn apart in a violent scene. Riders are blasted off from their bikes in a shower of metal parts and flying blood, until the minigun starts to fail, sputtering in a pathetical whirring.

"Bertha, the spike strips!" You scream.

"On it." Beneath your license plate the spike traps are deployed. The spikes cover the ground of the desert, puncturing the tires of the mutants closest to the trailer. You can hear the sickening sounds of screams and screeching as the bikes are torn apart, but the tribe of savages is still hot on your tail, even after most of your tricks.

The rythmic thuds of bullets hit your trailer like rainfall. Were it not for your bulletproof plating you would be swiss cheese laying on the side of the road by now.

A honey badger mutant in an impossibly large motorbike closes in to you, giggling maniacally as it fires a bunch of crossbolts through your door.

A sharp thwack pierces your window, missing the target, but the second dart flies through the window and pierces you through your prosthetic arm and onto your side. The crossbow bolt embeds itself deep as you let out a painful cry.

Your robotic arm glitches and spasms against your will, and the steering wheel jerks out of control. Gritting your teeth, you hold the steering wheel with all of your willpower and force yourself to keep the vehicle on the road.

Out of frustration, you let out a strangled wail and slam the trailer on the motorcycle, sending the mutant flying through the air and tumbling through the rocks and dirt.

"There's too many of them." Bertha warns as her scanners show at least a dozen more savages and you're out of surprises. Despite their persistence, backing down wasn't an option.

"And you've got bigger problems." A warning flashes on your screen and Bertha shows a simulation of a rapidly approaching abyss. "We're approaching a deep chasm in 500 meters, at least a mile deep. You should turn around and find an alternate route."

"And get captured by those losers instead?" You lick your dry lips. "Ain't no way, Bertha."

You suck in a sharp breath, spitting blood and dust out of your broken window. Staring down at the rapidly approaching abyss.

"Give up, girl, and we'll make your end shift!"

Furrowing your brows in concentration, you awkwardly grab the crossbow bolt with your metal hand, snapping the end of the dart to free your arm. You pull down your helmet over your head and buckle your seatbelt.

"I'm gonna jump." You state flatly.

"Wait, that's too dangerous!" Bertha protested through the speakers. "Based on the previous damaged I've sustained, there is less than a 62% chance that-"

"Good enough for me! You got any other bright ideas?" You scream out, but before you get any answers you're cranking the gear shift. "Didn't think so!"

You grab the steering wheel like your life depends on it and hit the pedal. You open another compartment in the panel and smash the turbo button with your malfunctioning hand. The trailer rushes at an impossible velocity, pushing you back into your seat as you approach the edge of the abyss.

The trailer groans as you jump over a well angled rock, going airbone. You let out a strangled scream as you almost hit your head on the ceiling and can hear everything that wasn't chained down falling and hitting the walls of the trailer behind you.

Everything slows down to a stop. People weren't lying when they said you could see things in slow motion when you were about to die.

This is it. This is the end.

You close your eyes as tight as you can, your heart skips a beat or two as your life flashes before your eyes. Every single failure, every single mistake. Oh god, you'll never get to see them again, say sorry for everything that happened, how you wish you could go back. You forget to breathe as you embrace for impact.

The trailer lands harshly on the ground, and everything that wasn’t neatly tied to a wall falls and clatters to the ground. Bertha herself blows a tire from the impact and the fall almost crushes the hull completely on the front, she slides through the ground, creating a cloud of dust as the trailer hits a big rock that turns it on it's side.

The world spins around you as you push your door open, struggling to breathe not just from the dust in the air but your own near death experience.

You try to leave, but your seatbelt pulls you back. You groan in frustration and almost rip the fabric off of you, crawling through your window, away from the near totaled trailer. Gasping for air and struggling to swallow with your dry mouth, you fall to the ground, breathing heavily. You spit some blood and saliva on the rocks, and then out comes whatever’s left of your lunch.

Slowly, you stick your head up. Your double vision still allows you to see one of the savages tried to follow you, only to plunge into the depths of the earth bellow. The rest of the gang stops just at the edge of the abyss, staring daggers at you.

"We'll get you yet, you filthy human!" The tribe of savages shouted obscenities at you from the other side, blaring their horns at you, shaking their weapons and shooting at the sky. Tires screech horrible against the rocky ground before they ride away.

You let yourself fall into the ground, exhausted. On the bright side, the heist paid off. Fuck, who knew getting water could be so life threatening?

-----

Thankfully, the bolt didn't hit you too badly, as your metallic arm took most of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. You winced every time you had to move, and with the amount of repairs you had to make to Bertha, it meant you were wincing a lot.

"Okay, Bertha, prepare yourself." You say as you finished putting the last hydraulic jack into place, you scootch back and stand up slowly, holding your side to ease the pain. Once you're at a safe enough distance, you take a device from your pants and push a button.

The jacks groan loudly as the trailer is slowly pushed back onto it's wheels, for a second it seems like it might slip and crash back into the sand, but at the end the futuristic looking jacks push it with enough force to push the van back upright.

The door to the trailer creaks loudly as you open it up, almost falling off its hinges as you walk inside. It takes a lot of effort from you to get the spare tires from the back and change them.

You sigh, looking back at the abyss you jumped over to escape your mutant pursuers just hours ago. Getting Bertha functional took the better part of the evening, and you were still completely exposed underneath the desert heat.

From far away, you could already see a monstrosity forming on the horizon. Growing at an alarming rate, threatening to engulf everything in its path, a gluttonous entity that would destroy anything that didn't find proper shelter when it finally arrived. A sandstorm, and one of the bigger ones you'd seen.

You hit your clothes to clean them off, but it doesn't do much.

"Bertha?" You asked, using the side of your truck as leverage to get yourself back on your feet.

"Yes?" Her voice sputtered and glitched, the outer speaker damaged from the fall.

"How long until the sandstorm hits us?" You point towards the horizon, as if Bertha could really see you.

"By my calculations," She stays quiet for a couple of seconds. "We've got roughly 12 hours and 23 minutes before it reaches our current location."

With the sandstorm approaching quicker than you anticipated, it wouldn't be enough time to fully repair Bertha. Thankfully, the upgrades you’ve made over the years held up well, but this brilliant escape maneuver certainly put Bertha on her last legs. It didn’t help that the sandstorm brewing might tear her apart before you can make any further repairs.

Defeated, you threw a small wrench into it's toolbox. Getting back to your hideout was of the upmost importance in order to fix Bertha completely, but with the savages and the sandstorm looming on the horizon, you were one crash away from your end. The risk was too great, you needed to wait out this storm somewhere safe.

"Bertha, remember those big rock things we passed by years ago?" You ask as you start to recollect your tools.

"Oh yes, I remember. It was quite a lovely scenario." She chirped.

"Make a route for them," You clap your hands to get rid of the dirty in them and take your tools back to the trailer after getting Bertha functional. "They should only be a couple of hours away. It should shelter us from the worst part of the storm."

----

You struggle to keep your eyes open as you lay in bed. Tossing and turning you grunt every time you put too much pressure on your side and decide to lay on your back, one hand behind your head and another holding your gun close to your chest.

Just as you're about to doze off, you're suddenly thrown a couple inches in the air and fall from the bed, faceplanting onto the ground.

You groan, annoyed. Kicking your legs, you throw off the sheets away from the bed and fall completely to the ground, holding onto the bed to catch yourself as Bertha drives over a bumpy rock and you hit your knees onto the steel floor.

"What's going on, Bertha?" You scream out, "I'm trying to sleep over here."

"The radar's picking up some interesting energy readings."

"Interesting how?" You throw the covers back onto the bed and walk to the front of the trailer, putting a hand on your chin and analyzing some of the bullet holes in Bertha.

"I think you should check it out." You stop in your tracks and frown.

Walking up to the front of the trailer in nothing your pants and a dirty t-shirt, you sneak your head into the passenger's seat. "What?"

"It's some kind of unidentified energy reading about a mile north," The radar shows a small dot in your map, close to the caverns and mountain ranges you were headed off to. "Could be dangerous, should we avoid it?"

You look behind you to the mess of wiring on the ground. You hop onto the passenger's seat, and through the rearview mirror, you can see the sandstorm is coming closer. "How far away is this reading?"

"About a 30 minutes drive."

"No, let's go check it out," You walk to the back of the trailer, slipping into your boots and grabbing your gear. "Could be useful."

After a short drive you finally reach your destination, which seems to be an old town's ruins, bleached under the unforgiving desert sun, battered by the repeated harsh winds of the sandstorms, its once-sturdy walls crumbling into dust and mixing with the desert.

There was nearly nothing left of the decaying buildings. The main street couldn't even be seen, several years without care had cracked it beyond repair, and it was covered in dirt and sand. In the distance, a surviving windmill creaks, what's left of it's blades spin aimlessly in the hot breeze.

The whole trailer shakes and groans as it slowly comes to a stop, just close enough to the ruins that you could see a strange object reflecting the sun from far away, your curiosity peaks, and you tell Bertha to keep what's left of the guns ready.

You swing the doors open, and your heavy boots land on the rocky ground. You huff irritated as the sunlight hits your eyes. The annoying light seems to be coming just further up through the ruins.

Even though the evening draws near, the desert heat immediately hits you full force, it feels like the very sun is trying to cook you alive then and there. You open your waterskin and chug down a generous gulp of the water you stole from the savages. It was all the more refreshing in this scorching heat.

You walk through the ruins of the town, the silence is eery. Reaching what's left of a small house a small object in the sand picks your interest, kneeling down you swipe away the sand and debris, pulling what seems to be a girl's doll from the wreck. You grip it tight in your hand, what was once a bubbling town full of laughter and noise is now a ghost town, the only noise being the whisper of the wind and the occasional scurry of a mutant cockroach or bug beneath the wreckage.

You put the doll inside of your bag and carefully make your way to the strange object laying against a far away crumbling wall. It's metal reflecting the light of the evening sun. You keep your blaster ready to shoot.

As you get closer to the target, you see something that makes you stop in your tracks. A low, sickly hue of purple and pink that glows from the strange object. It was unmistakable.

The telltale sign of Kraang tech.

You dash behind a low wall and grab your blaster. Despite your calculated movements, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you sneak a peak, but the thing doesn't move an inch. A million thoughts race through your mind.

Were they really back? Why would they be back? Would it even matter if they came back to finish the job?

You stole a glance up from your cover, analyzing it more intently. It seemed like the strange object was a humanoid figure, laying on the ground close to the wall. Perhaps a broken droid? No. There's no way such a thing could have been made by the Kraang.

You could never forget it, the last time they came through their giant portal and brought their spaceships and guns and weapons of war. All of their machinery was sleek and polished, industrial, shiny to a sickly degree. From what you could see through your cover, this thing looked like it was made out of scrap and garbage, battered and worn down with time.

Crouching down from a safe distance, you start to pull the wrappings from your left arm until it is bare. Your prosthetic. It’s a crude thing, cobbled together from scraps and scavenged parts, far from sleek or efficient. You run your hand over the alien metal that you slapped together with iron and titanium, a makeshift arm that got the job done but constantly reminded you of your failures.

Trailing the slight glow of pink and purple markings in your hand, you almost lose yourself in thought. You breathe in deeply and struggle to close a malfunctioning hand before glancing back at the same faint glow in the machine that stood just a few feet from you.

If you could have found a way to utilize this technology years ago, perhaps others probably found a way as well.

Slowly, you grab a small rock close to your feet, throwing it over the wall. The rock hit the robot's back with an undignified "clunk" and fell to the ground in between its legs, unceremoniously.

"Huh," you think, standing up from behind the wall and making your way to the strange object. Now you could finally see it more clearly. It looked like some sort of robot... No, it was a robot of a humanoid looking turtle... man?

The metal was dark green and weathered by the harsh desert, battered and rough, but weirdly well taken care of considering the circumstances. There were several scratches and imperfections. It looked like it had seen quite the story, but the most curious aspect of the robot's anatomy was its shell, where the letters NYC still read clearly.

NYC. Ground zero.

That was a place you hadn't heard of in years, and now it stared back at you from the top of the manhole cover turned robo-turtle shell.

"Who would build something like this?" Your brows slowly furrowed in confusion.

Gently, you poke the robot on its side with your boot, not really expecting anything, but you keep your good hand on your gun.

Nothing.

You place your boot on its shell and press harder. "Yo, you good?" You tilted your head to get a better look. You prod it beneath its arm - then its face, but the hunk of metal remained motionless.

You wipe the sweat off your brow with a leathery hand.

"Yep, it's dead." Figures.

"If someone abandoned this thing by the road it was probably for a good reason," You say out loud to yourself. "Perhaps it is best to just use it for scrap."

There was just the slighest chance you could get it back online, reprogram it, and you could use a hand or two with big Bertha. An AI assistant was great but a full-on robot?

You hum as you run over the pros and cons through your head. If you leave it here, it'll definitely be torn apart by the sandstorm. The thought of getting mauled by a rogue robot you fixed was something out of a blockbuster horror movie, but the thought of such a fascinating piece of tech being abandoned ate you up inside. What was the saying again? Curiosity killed the cat?

You bit your lower lip, mulling it over.

Kneeling next to the robot, you touch its arm. The intense heat has made the metal so hot you could fry an egg on it. It must have been there for at least a couple of hours. Were it not for your glove, you could have burned yourself. You turn it over carefully, inspecting the indents of the metal and texture. It doesn't seem too badly damaged—nothing you couldn't fix inside big Bertha.

"Looks like we've got ourselves some company, Bertha." Standing up, you hit your pants to get rid of the sand and grab the robot by its legs, taking in a deep breath.

"This is going to hurt." You say to yourself as you start to pull the thing back to your trailer, your side flaring up in excruciating pain with each additional pull.

-----

You haul the robot into your trailer, feeling light headed from the effort. It's heavy body falls to the ground with a thud as you shove it inside.

Slumping against the wall, you press a hand to your side, wincing as it burns and warmth seeps through your fingers. You exhaled, ragged, trying to control your breathing.

"What did you find out there?" Bertha asks as the robot hits the ground, lifeless.

"Just... just a..." You struggle to breathe. "Robot... fuck." Grunting you push yourself back from the wall and close the door.

"Are you okay?" Bertha asks concerned, noticing your labored breathing.

"Damn stitches came undone. I'll be right back." You leave the robot to cool down inside your trailer while you head to your room to fix the stitches.

Bertha rumbles beneath you accelarating, so you can actually reach your shelter before sundown.

You throw your leather gloves and googles on the table. Turning on the trailer's dim lights, they flicker, struggling to keep on as you dig out your supplies -needle, thread, an old bottle of whiskey. You take a swig first, wincing at the bitter taste that burns your throat before dousing a rag and cleaning your wound.

The pain hits sharp, and your side burns as you grit your teeth and start stitching. By the time you're finished, you throw on a cleaner t-shirt before coming back to check on your guest.

Kneeling next to the robot, you brush the back of your hand against its metal plating, noticing it has already cooled down enough for you to fix it up.

With a grunt, you push it into a sitting position on the floor, then crawl behind it, inspecting the faint glow pulsating from its markings. Thing's still got some juice, apparently, but clearly not enough to be functional.

Taking out your notepad, you take your time with the machine. Rough coal sketches take shape in your pages, its segmented shell, the way the kraang technology seems to have been integrated in its sides, and the delicate mechanics of the three-fingered hands. Your calloused fingers trail the edges of its shell and each scratch and bump from the years of use.

"Man, I really would like to meet whoever built this thing." You mutter, jotting down quick notes.

Bertha hums through the speakers, guiding you into the mouth of a cave that's just big enough to shelter you two. Well, all three of you. "Do you think it still works?"

"I guess we'll have to figure it out."

You take a look at its left hand. Some of the screws had become loose. You tighten them up with a few quick turns of your screwdriver. The joints creak as you oil them, and you clean the excess that trails down with an old rag.

With your curiosity peaking, you sit down behind the robot again and carefully take it's head in your hands.

"Time to see what hardware this thing's packing." You tap the back of the robot's head with your screwdriver lightly, but Bertha groans loudly. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Bertha."

Slowly, you remove all of the screws from the head, carefully you peel the plating back-

It slips from your hands, hitting the floor with a hollow *clang.*

Your breath catches in your throath.

"What? Is everything okay?" Bertha asks, voice sharp with concern.

Your feet scramble and scootch backswards quickly until your back hits the wall. A trembling hand covers your mouth.

"Hey, are you okay?" When you struggle to respond, Bertha calls your name loudly, snapping you out of your shock.

You swallow hard, pointing at the robot. "It's got a brain."

Silence.

"What?"

"It has a brain, Bertha!" You push your damp hair back, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you.

The brain sat in a glass-like tank, suspended on a thick, yellowed fluid. Wires snaked inside and hooked it up to a strange spine-line mechanism at the back of what would be its skull. It seemed damaged, some faulty wiring, almost as if he had been hit over the head.

The whole scene looked like something straight out of a science fiction book, and it makes your already empty stomach churn.

Slowly, you push yourself up against the wall, staring at the robot - no, at *him* - slumped lifelessly in front of you.

Is it a person? Some kind of cyborg? Could it have been human?

This thing looked like it was at least two decades old, could it be from the time when the bomb hit?

You gulp, considering your next options. *If it has a brain, it's a person.* Right? And you don't deal with people - if you could even call the savage mutants of the desert people - not since you got tired of pulling knives out of your back.

"Is it a person?" Bertha asks, a tinge of curiosity in her robotic voice.

"I don't know, I mean..." You close your eyes. "Probably?"

"Is he alive?" She questions.

"Maybe?" You laugh nervously, throath dry. "I don’t know what to do." And then you admit.

"Remember your number one rule?" She murmurs.

You nod slowly. "People are trouble."

Bertha hums in agreement. "We can still throw him back into the desert."

Bertha was right, throwing him back into the desert was still an option, but that would probably count as murder, not that you were a saint, but the idea of throwing a helpless person into the wasteland didn't sit right with you. You huff and push yourself off the wall, walking back to the robot and avoiding your mess of tools.

You walk closer to the robot, your legs feeling unsteady with each step you take closer to him. Kneeling, you study his exposed brain, reaching out to touch the glass tank with your metal hand and inspect the damage he'd sustained.

The sandstorm was already coming in strong, the force of the winds outside could be heard from inside the trailer and a cloud of dust started to form through the window.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at the brain in the glass tank, wondering what kind of person would end up inside a humanoid turtle robot.

You suck in a shaky breath.

Maybe...

Running to your mountain of tools, metal, and other thingamabobs laying on your floor, you rummage through the pile of scrap, throwing useless pieces to your side as your frustration mounts. "Where is it?"

"What are you doing?" Bertha asks, confused at your sudden movements.

"I'm thinking!" You hit your hands in frustration on the floor.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me I didn't throw it away..." You throw some old pieces of metal and tools around as you frantically search for it, letting out a loud "aha!" Once you finally find it.

From the disorganized pile of tools, you yank out an old dusty kraang charger. It was the same kind they used for their kraang droids, you never even knew what you'd use it for when you found it in the ruins of a building in New York, but you were glad you didn't throw it away now.

"Are you going to turn it on?" Bertha questions. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Maybe, I just..." Scootching closer to the robot. Cyborg. Thing sitting in the middle of your trailer, your fingers fumble, you pick up your tools and put the wires back in its place, being careful not to mess with anything important. "I want to see what kind of person he is."

"And if he's a crazy robot on the loose?"

"Then it's a good thing I've got you here." Once you're sure everything seems to be fixed, you put the metal plating back on its head, and then hook up the spare charger, securing the connection with a quiet click.

Nothing happens.

Your hands tremble in anticipation in your lap, but when nothing changes after a couple of seconds, your shoulders slump. You assume it would take the thing at least a couple of hours to charge up, or maybe you were too late to find it. It might be braindead by this point.

"Great." You close your eyes and push yourself up, rubbing a metal hand down your face. The stupid thing is probably already too far gone to

A sudden jolt. You barely register the whirring hum before it stands up suddenly.

"As- As I was saying, we need to find-" The robot stood up suddenly with enough force to hit you with it's flailing arms. You stagger back, tripping over your toolbox. You let out a sharp yell as you hit your side.

The robot looks around startled at your sudden noise, head snapping to look at you on the floor. A low, electronic hum cuts through the air as his systems kick back online. Glowing markings flickering to life with full power, illuminating the dim trailer in its eerie pulses of purple.

You stare up at it, unmoving.

"What the fuck." You breath out.

The machine shudders, its body humming as systems power up, the robot's limbs twich and readjust after being powered down for so long.

A pause.

Then, in a voice more human than you anticipated:

"Oh."

-----

DonBot's POV:

"As- As I was saying, we need-" A loud electric voice stutters as the robot comes back to life.

Suddenly, his systems kick back on, and his body jerks. He was just in the middle of finishing his sentence when everything went dark. It took a split-second before he readjusted and started to take in his surroundings. He wasn't in the desert, and Raph was nowhere to be seen.

Donatello has been left with his own thoughts for hours as his body powered down, unsure of what had happened, if Raph was even safe.

Alarms flare in his head. His sensors scan his surroundings, locking onto something fascinating and impossible.

A statiscal improbability staring right at him.

A human.

She stares at him with intense eyes, pale as a sheet, as if she'd just seen a ghost. Slowly, she rises to her feet stood slowly, one hand clutching her side, eyes narrowed.

"Uhm." She hesitates. "Hey. Robot, uhm thing, what are you talking about?"

He moves switfly. Before she can even notice it, the woman is being held against the wall with his tech-staff pressed against her throat. She gasps, eyes flashing with fear and anger.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Donatello's voice cuts through the air, synthetic but sharp. Human or not, this girl has just taken him into her trailer, and she might be a threat.

She scoffs.

"Who am I? The girl that pulled your ass from the sun before your circuits melted out there." She nods to the door. "And the girl with the automatic laser guns."

Bertha takes the hint. The walls whiropen, revealing a row of small but deadly laser turrets, all of them simultaneously locking onto the robot's forehead and shell.

"Please disengage from any further attacks." Bertha asks in a sweet voice.

He glances at the guns, then back at the girl's face. The odds were not in his favor.

"So," She starts. "I suggest you back off. And then, we can talk about this." Hands raised in front of her, she raises an eyebrow in question.

He hesitates for a second, but wagers she wasn't one of his attackers from earlier, or he wouldn't be talking right now.

He lets her go. She stumbles forward, coughing and rubbing her throat. That was going to leave a bruise.

She glares up at him. "Damn, some way to say thanks."

"What am I doing here?" His robotic voice demanded.

"Chill out, I found you in an old town's ruins and took you in." She rubbed her collarbone from where he hit her with the bo-staff. Ouch, damn thing came out of nowhere.

"I thought you were scrap or something, then I opened up your plating." She taps the side of her own head. "What the heck even are you?"

Donatello stiffens.

"I'm a person!" He stammers. "Well, turtle. Well, okay, turtle mind in a robot body. But, I-"

She furrowed her brows the longer he kept rambling, but it didn't make it any easier for Donatello to find the words to explain his current predicament.

"My body was destroyed, but I was cybenetically wired to Metalhead Mark II, a robot I designed. So, I transferred my consciousness into this machine." He gestures at himself.

She looked at him up and down, never did he feel so comscious about his new robotic body. The girl blinks slowly. It takes her a moment to process.

"Okay..." She rubs her temple. "So, you're not like an AI or something."

"No." He shakes his head.

"You're a person." She stated.

"Mutant turtle," He correct, "But well. Yes."

"Mutant turtle." She repeats and lets out a snicker. "Fine. What were you doing cooking out there in the sun, turtle man?"

Oh, that's right.

"Raph!" He lets out a scream, suddenly remembered what got him into this mess.

"What?"

"He's my brother, I need to find him!" He ran off to the door, but the girl grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.

"Did your circuits get fried out there!?" She pushed him against the wall and pointed a finger to the window. "We're in the middle of a sandstorm!"

Outside, the sandstorm rages - thick, churning clouds of dust outside the mouth of the cave.

He pushes her hand off of him. "But I—"

“Fine,” She snarls, shaking her head and gesturing to the door. “You wanna kill yourself out there? Be my guest, but I'm not driving out there in this storm."

He clenches his fists, scanning the storm while she walks away, throwing her hands into the air before sitting down at her table and grabbing some tools nearby.

Defeated, he lets out a robotic sigh, unfortunately this stranger was right, the winds howled outside, even though it seemed that they had taken shelter inside some sort of cave, the wind that made it into the cave was still strong enough to thrash against the walls of the trailer.

The sandstorm is picking up intensity—howling gusts of dirt and debris hammer against the thin metal and glass. Inside, it's dim, save for the flickering lights and a lantern, as well as the faint glow of the old Kraang charger that was still connected to his body. His systems were still blinking to life slowly, his power had run way too low, he wouldn't make it far.

Donnie just hoped his brother could take care of himself a little bit longer until he got back.

Curiosity peaks again, and he looks at the human woman in front of him, she sat at the table with all sorts of tools, fiddling with her mechanical arm.

----

Reader's POV:

You try to ignore him, but your nerves are wrecking you. Having someone in your personal space was a bit unnerving after so long. Sure, you had Bertha, but she wasn't really a person.

You can feel his sensors scanning you, even though you’re not looking at him. You half contemplated shutting him down again, if that would even be possible. After all, he did attack you.

The storm outside thickens, the sand’s beginning to coat the glass, blurring everything outside into a hazy mess. The atmosphere feels thick—suffocating.

You glance back when you can feel his gaze hasn't shifted in a couple of long seconds. When your eyes meet his sensors, he averts his gaze. You let out a huff and go back to meddling with your still damaged prothesis.

He finally breaks the silence.

"So, how did a human end up in the wasteland? When the mutagen bomb hit, there was nobody left."

You sigh, turning back into your chair to look at him.

"A brilliant observation, I hadn't noticed." You reply sarcastically and snap your real fingers. "I just did, that's it." There's a bitter tone that you don't even attempt to hide.

In a way, you envy the mutants of the desert, your lonely life fit you, of course, but it also meant always looking over your shoulder, patching your own wounds, rescuing yourself all the time.

"That's not a real answer." He presses, snapping you away from your train of thought.

"That wasn’t a real question." You snap back. "What's with the interrogation?"

He shakes his head.

"Just trying to make conversation since you saved my life and all, and we're going to be stuck together until this sandstorm passes."

She glances up at him, narrowing your eyes. "Since when do robots make small talk?"

"I told you - I'm not a robot."

"Fine." You grumble, focusing on the upper end of your arm, where it connected to your shoulder. "Ever since the world turned into, well, shit. End of story."

He watches you, silent for a long moment, sat in a makeshift seat across the room. "Are there any others?"

"I've got no idea," you growl, but your voice lacks conviction. "If I knew you were this chatty, I'd have thought twice about hauling you into my trailer."

He flinches just slightly, and you feel a pnag of regret into your chest.

The silence stretched again.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You tried to pay it no mind as you attempted to get your arm fully operational again. You swore underneath your breath as the screwdriver slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor. Scooting over to the edge of your seat so you could pick it up.

Before you reach it, the robot beat you to it.

"Looks like you could use a hand or two." He offers you the screwdriver. "You know, I'd say I've got quite the experience."

You ponder it for a second, before rolling your eyes and nodding to the seat in front of you.

He almost seems excited when he sits down. Slowly, he starts to inspect your prosthetic with careful precision.

"Who built this?" He asks, turning your arm in his oversized three-fingered hand.

"I did." You answer flatly.

His eyes, or sensors brighten - literally. "Oh woah." He turns your hand around in his own. It was almost comical how small your fingers looked in comparison to his. "This is amazing! I've never seen technology integrated in a prosthetic like this before."

You blink.

"Thanks."

He inspects the faint purple glow in your prosthetic.

"Where did you get this tech from?" He questions as he starts to loosen some screws.

"This? I could ask you the same thing." She raises an eyebrow with a smirk, looking at the same purple glow in his mechanisms.

"Well, does saying it comes from aliens from another dimension make sense to you?"

You chuckle. "Uhm, yeah."

He starts to adjust some of the internal wiring, his movements swift and precise. You watch with interest at how much control he seems to have over his hands, even though he only has 6 fingers in total.

"I'm sorry, by the way. For earlier, for attacking you. And for the questions, I didn't mean to offend," it says softly. "It's just fascinating! I- I mean," he stutters as he tries to find the best way to put his thoughts into words, rolling the screwdriver in his hand as he explains.

You tense, caught in between shutting his next question down or brushing it off.

"You might be the only human left in the wasteland."

Your jaw clenches.

"Hooray for me." You say bitterly and ball up your real fist.

The robot’s silence is palpable, a weight in the air. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, but you feel the intensity of its observation.

"Sorry." He apologizes softly.

You bite back your sharp tongue.

"Look. " You hesitate, "It was pure luck. When the bomb hit, I happened to be in a makeshift lab of mine. It was enough to get me to survive the bomb and then the, well, fallout."

"But enough about me, you're a person, right? What's your name, turtle-man?" You change the topic of the conversation before he could prod any further into your personal life.

"Donatello" He answers. "But you can just call me Donnie."

'"Donatello." You tilt your head. "You're italian?"

That gets a chuckle out of him. "No, my father just really admired the great artists of the Renaissance." He takes away a damaged piece and replaces it with a new one.

"What's your name?"

You hesitate, but it's not like this nugget of information would tell him much else about yourself, so you tell him.

You watch as he repeats it slowly in a low voice, testing how it feels in his voicebox.

"That's a nice name."

"Psst. Maybe," You say, "But nobody really calls me that anymore. These days, when I meet someone they usually just call me something like 'Ghost'."

"The Ghost?" He asks, confused.

"Yep, you know." You sigh. "Last human on the wasteland and all." He thinks for a moment, then nods in understanding.

"So you're the one who built this robot body you're in right now?" You question him, looking back in his eyes, sensors? It felt weirdly personal, so you averted your gaze.

"I built this battle robot once, his name was Metalhead" He nods and hums as he explains, "But he got destroyed, so I made another one. I would never have thought it'd end up saving my life but, here we are."

"Cool." You say. "Not the your body getting destroyed part but, erhm, you know..." You rub the back of your neck with your good hand, cringing at the way your own voice sounded. Who knew spending years only talking to an AI assistant would put such a damper on your social skills.

"What about the voice that came through the speakers early?" He points at the speakers. Seaking of the devil...

"It's rude to talk about someone that's listening." Bertha chirps in, Donnie looks flustered for a second and starts to stutter out an apology.

"That's Bertha,sdon't mind her. She's my AI assistant." You answer. "I programmed her so she could be my lookout and auto-pilot."

"Just your lookout and auto-pilot?" She feigns hurt. "And here I thought we were actual friends." You roll your eyes and smile at Bertha's dramatics. Donatello watches the exchange in amusement.

"That's resourceful. No wonder you survived so long in the desert." He points out.

You give him a small smile.

"You know," Donatello says after a moment, "It's been a long time since I've had a conversation with anyone other than my brother."

"What happened to him?"

His hands still.

"Oh brother, we were ambushed by a gang of savages, then I lost consciousness." He admits. "When I came back online I was, well, here. I hope he's okay out there."

You grunt, shifting in your chair. "Seems like you two have made it pretty far. Can he take care of himself?"

"It's not that," Donnie says, his voice is quieter this time "He's lost most of his memories before the bomb. I'm worried about what could happen to him... but mostly, what could happen to anybody in his way."

Stealing a look at your own wall, your eyes find the lonely picture frame of you back in high school, surrounded by your father and friends, the only spec of your old life you had left at this point. You sigh, letting your gaze fall on the ground as you reflect.

"Do you have any idea where to start searching?" You finally look at him as he inspects your fingers in his own.

"Once the winds die down I could try to triangulate his location." He puts your hand down, inspecting his work.

"Sounds like a good start." You answer, wanting to add that you would help, you before you could speak again, he had already finished.

"And there you have it!" He spins the screwdriver in his hands before placing it in your toolbox. "A not so brand new robotic arm, but completely functional nonetheless."

You flex your fingers. The movement feels smoother than before, as if you had never even been shot.

You glance at him. "Thank you, Donatello."

His head tilts slightly, almost as if he's smiling. "You're welcome."

He looks at you, waiting for you to add anything else. The moment lingers longer than it should as you don'treally know what else to say.

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head. "So, how did this even happen?" He looks at your prosthetic arm, but you can also see him glance at the bullet marks in Bertha's plating.

"Savages." You say, keeping your voice even. "Had a run-in with them, too."

He waits expectantly. You rub your neck.

"Are you going to elaborate?" Donatello asks, more confused than annoyed.

"Hmm. Nope." You shake your head.

"Oh, okay." You chuckle at his response, half expecting him to press, but glad he took the hint.

You get up, popping your joints and gathering your tools.

"Well, it's getting late, and I've had a full day, so..." You let out a yawn and point towards your room.

"Oh, right! Seems like this storm isn't going to die down anytime soon."

"Do you need anything?" You cross your arms, and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"I'll be fine, you've already done enough for me. Thanks." Donatello replies.

"Right." A long silence stretches between you, filled only by the howling wind outside and the occasional scrape of debris against the trailer. The storm rages on, the moment feels awkward, but for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel so alone. "Aight, imma head off now."

"Good night."

"Good night, Donatello." You close the door to your room behind you.

Hi I seen you request we’re open and I was wondering if I could request some cuddling headcanons with the bayverse turtles with their female s/o if it’s not to much trouble 😅 if not that’s totally fine thank you!! :]

Yess!! My first tmnt request! >:) Ask and you shall receive

Bayverse Turtles with a female

s/o! (Cuddling hcs)

Masterlist II Taglist

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Raphael

You’d probably be the one to ask first and when you do ask, Raph will be so taken back by it, not in a bad way though

He’d just be surprised that you’d want to cuddle him I feel like he’s really insecure about himself and wouldn’t expect you to ask him for cuddles

Once he’s over his surprise though he will nervously agree and will need your guidance of what to do, where to put his arms, etc

He’ll try to make it seem like he doesn’t like it but it’s very obvious he’s enjoying it

He’d prefer to cuddle in private like in his room since he wouldn’t want his brothers to know about it

He’d probably rather cuddle you with your back turned to him just because he doesn’t want you seeing how flustered he is

He’s a big softy though, he enjoys falling asleep while cuddling, especially after a rough day because it helps him relax

Leonardo

He’d probably be the one to ask first but he’d also be kinda unsure whether to ask or not because he doesn’t want to make your uncomfortable

So he’d probably tell you that it’s okay to say no but when you agree he’s relieved and happy

Really enjoys cuddling you and doesn’t really mind if his brothers find out or not

Tries to be gentle when cuddling cause he doesn’t want to accidentally crush you or hold you to tight

Enjoys hearing you talk while you cuddle, it’s just relaxing to him and he can easily fall asleep to your voice

Likes to run his fingers through your hair while cuddling too

Like with Raph he enjoys cuddling as a stress reliever from a rough day and it helps him calm down

Donatello

You’d have to be the first one to ask because he’d be way to anxious to ask you first

Like he’s thought about cuddling before and has been wanting to ask you but he’s just to scared too

Like with Raph, when you ask Donnie if he wants to cuddle he freezes up and gets really flustered

He’ll agree though after he calms down, he’ll definitely start searching up ‘How to cuddle’ ‘Best cuddling positions’, etc because he has no idea what to do

Falling asleep together in his lab chair!! <3

he obviously has an ungodly sleeping schedule and you don't want to lay in his bed alone waiting for him so you just sit on his lap using his shoulder as a pillow

your warmth makes Donnie go to bed immediately

He wouldn’t want his brothers finding him cuddling you so he’d prefer cuddling in either his room or his lab

He secretly loves it when you trace your finger around his scales it makes his heart go <333

I just love Donnie so much :(( 💕💕

Michelangelo

He’d definitely ask first 100%

It probably won’t even be to far into your relationship and he’d ask pretty quickly

But he’d actually be surprised if you agreed and he might tear up a bit but he tries to hide it

He might think about when the police officers called them monsters and he would need reassurance that you don’t think that about him

He’s just so happy he has you and you don’t see him any differently

Prefers having you face him when cuddling because he can look and you (and kiss you easier)

Since he’s so hyper he probably talks a lot when cuddling, ranting about stuff, talking about how his day went, talking about something he’s interested in, etc

He’s just such a loveable goofball <3 He’s my favourite (Besides Donnie, I love him sm)

Thank you so much for requesting!! It’s my first tmnt request, so thank you so much!! I may not post that often due to being busy and I’m currently sick :( I’m hoping I get better soon :D

TMNT Movie (Bayverse) Masterlist!

Main Masterlist!

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Raphael

Bayverse Turtles with a female s/o! (Cuddling hcs)

Leonardo

Bayverse Turtles with a female s/o! (Cuddling hcs)

Donatello

Bayverse Turtles with a female s/o! (Cuddling hcs)

Michelangelo

Bayverse Turtles with a female s/o! (Cuddling hcs)

Rottmnt Masterlist!

Main Masterlist!

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(Art by @/Chokico_ on Twitter!)

Raphael

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Leonardo

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Donatello

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Michelangelo

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