Not My Request By Any Means - Blog Posts

Do you ever find yourself remembering a fic?

Because a word became somewhat of trigger?

A word, a thought, a feeling so simply captured that it very much felt like poetry in the way that it impressed upon your heart and your mind so deeply that it echoes through time and space to find you in the here and now, somehow someway?

I had that feeling today, with these snippets specifically. I hope you know I went searching for this. Legit looking for it. Took a couple hours trying to find it. Only remembering the vibe, the feelings it stirred and a single word.

Tethered especially. Such a fascinating concept that my mind took a hold of and CLUNG to it all these years later. Like…there are no words to explain how much this…struck me…

I also went searching for this reaction photo because it was the only one that came close to capturing my feelings tonight.

Like I’m sitting alone tonight, with my thoughts, with my feelings, just thinking about how someone’s words back on a day in May literally changed my brain chemistry.

Hey, Love your stories btw. Saw requests are open and just wondering if you would write how turtles would be with a partner that overthinks?

Kind of like comfort, mostly fluff scene?

Whelp. I wish I could say I didn't overthink this, but I am not a lying liar who lies. Hope this is to your style anon. I want to apologize in advance for somehow not being able to work Raph smooching his reader into the story, but his Reader is a little too angry for smooches

Bayverse Turtles x Reader, set in 2023 (turtles 22 ish)

G/N Reader (somehow i managed that, but names like sweetheart and babycakes are used.) No Y/N

Warnings/Summary : um... fluff. like comfort. n fluff. angst if you think about the fact that reader is not ok at the beginning of each scene. allusions to sexy times in some of them

Tether

Leo peered into your window, found you splayed out on your bed, legs up the wall and staring off into space. He let himself in via the window in your living room, making sure to step loudly as he made his way to your room. 

You hadn’t moved from that spot. He took the moment to shuck his swords, his belt, placing them across the surface of your dresser, before moving to fold his upper half on your bed, beside your gently rising chest.

“Hey.” That low, calm voice pulls you back from wherever you were, the soft touch of a careful finger against the angle of your cheekbone too common an occurrence to really faze you anymore.

“Leo.” You rasped, fingers idly rubbing against your chest as you drank him in. The bed shifted as he leaned a little further over you, lips plush where they pressed against your cheek. “I didn’t hear you come in?”

A soft snort, his movements still slow, still gentle. “I noticed. Where were you?”

You frowned, turned to stare at the ceiling before turning back to the blue banded turtle. “I was thinking.”

“Of course.” He stated it like it was a fact of life, as easy as breathing and as sure as the sun, no judgement in his too blue eyes.

You found yourself smiling despite still feeling a little lost, knowing he wouldn’t want you to apologize. “I don’t really remember how it started.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

You paused, thinking, before pulling a face.

It pulled a small chuckle from his snout. “You are the opposite of Dee.” 

At your questioning hum, he elaborated. “You both think too much. But he lets it all out, you hold it in.” He gently tapped the point above the center of your rib cage, before moving to brush that same, careful finger down the planes of your face. He continued when your eyes strayed back to the ceiling, “I’ll listen, if or when you need to talk.”

“I don’t know if it’ll help.” You still hadn’t reached out to him, thumbs rubbing over their counterpart’s opposite knuckles. “I just feel a little- untethered.”

He tilted his head, pressed the ridge of his brow against your face, tucked it under the curve of your jaw, slowly slid down to the bones in your collar. “I can tether you.” He whispered, against your skin. “Let me tether you.”

You probably would laugh at the corny line he delivered so seriously, if not for the fact that it was working. His weight, the immediacy of his presence, grounded your fraying thoughts, reeled them back in until you could see the edges of yourself underneath.

He breathed in deeply near the dip at the bottom of your collar, letting you feel the rush of air, let it guide you back. One large hand slipped up against your own, fingers interlocking as he urged your thumbs to stop moving.

A slow sweep of his thumb, far larger than yours, against the inside of your wrist, the callus on the inside of his digit whispering across the softer skin. 

“Shhhh… there you go.” He leaned further across the bed, pushed your face further upwards, the curve of his snout now against your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere, darling. I’m here."

This time, when he took in a deep, steady breath, his chest brushed against your arm, and you felt his air flutter across your face. After a long, silent moment, you turned your head towards his own, fingers twisting to rub against his knuckles instead of your own.

“There we go. Just breathe.” He took another steady breath, urged you to mimic him. It was as though you had forgotten the feeling, your lungs rushing with air, swelling to a point almost painful. Thoughts quieted, the mental bits of papers and half formed thoughts returning to their even piles inside the floor of your mind.

Leo shooshed you again, and you realized there had been a hiccup in your breaths. He shifted, his arms unfurling, letting you roll closer, onto your side. He moved to rest the dip where his snout met his cheek against the upturned side of your face, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Leo.” You breathed again, feeling the heavy weight of his arm across your waist, loosened fist in between your shoulder blades. You tucked your face against the arm in front of you, rubbed your face in time with his against the pebbled skin.

“I’m here. You’re here. Just breathe.” He repeated.

He let you wrap an arm around his neck, fingers curling over the rim of his carapace, holding him in your space. He let out a hum, the sound deepening, becoming that comforting thump thump thump in his chest, faster than any heartbeat.

You hand tightened in his own, your head turning to find his gaze.

He gave you a small quirk of lips, his snout touching your nose delicately. “Hey, you.”

You know he felt the small puff of laughter, close as he was. “Hey, you back.” You let go of his shell, wrapped your arm around the back of his head, pulled him closer, just to hear that noise in his chest thump louder.

Vibration

Donnie found you in the least likely of spaces, curled up under his desk, his computer chair pulled in tight as if to make a tiny box. He had to fold in on himself to duck down low enough to catch your gaze.

You looked at him easy enough, eyes hazy and out of focus, wincing slightly at his soft whisper:

“Hey,” he drew the word out gently, “what’s wrong?” 

You didn’t want to tell him your thoughts were running a mile a minute, and the only place dark enough to hide from them was under his desk. You didn’t want to confess that your skin felt three sizes too small, and every breath felt like whatever made you, you, would escape if you weren’t careful.

“Overthinking?” Donnie shuffled closer, hands raising, pausing before he touched you. His head tilted to the side, considering, hazel eyes moving over your shivering, overstimulated form. After a long moment, he dropped his hands away from your space, instead reaching up just enough to grab his keyboard. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. I got something that might help.”

At this point you were desperate enough to just nod, closing your eyes and easing your head in your hands. After a few minutes of his typing, the keys clicking loud in the space, he turned on low music.

And, blessedly, you could feel more than hear. The beat vibrated through the lab, the bass high enough that everything not nailed down shivered. You had enough mind to watch Donnie move to close the door, before he was back on the floor next to you, one large arm braced on the overhang of the desk as he swayed into the little dark spot you had created.

“How are you doing? Is this helping?” At your shaky nod, he nods back, hand rising to softly trail the back of his knuckles down the outside of your nearest arm. 

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling, the fire ants dancing across your skin retreating under the coolness of his skin. “Dee?” 

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Tell me what you need?” He rubbed his knuckles back up your arm, paying attention to the way your limb stopped shaking.

You turned to him, stared at the column of his throat, not yet able to meet his too knowing gaze. “More. Please.”

He ducked away for a minute, and you heard the music change, the sound and vibrations starting to oscillate from one side of the room to the other.

“Thank god for surround sound, hm?” Donnie smiled at you when he came back, knuckles returning to their slow sweep.

That got a faint, brittle laugh out of you, your grip shifting on the arms of his chair, opening and closing against the elbow pads.

Donnie moved further into your little alcove, his shell blocking most of the light. “Do you want to come with me, go lay down?” At the quick shake of your head, he tried a different angle. “Do you want to sit in the chair, instead? The ground can’t be very comfortable, and I don’t know when’s the last time I cleaned under there.”

That- that worked. You unfurled, back cramping from how long you’d been hunched over in the little space. You let Donnie pull you into his lap, into his chair, fitting your knees on either side of his thighs and burying yourself in his shoulder.

“There. Much better.” His words came out in a chirp, cool hands coming up to rub along the curve of your back, switching to running his knuckles along your muscles when you shivered at too much skin contact.

The music drowned out everything, and in the all encompassing shake, his touch became bearable, an outside stimulus to focus on. It allowed you to just, stop thinking, stop worrying, condensing all those all-consuming thoughts into a smaller and smaller pile until you could shove them back into the box they’d escaped from.

You sniffled against Donnie’s skin, felt his head dip to rub his cheek on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. Not talking, not yet, just letting the vibrations do their work. Waiting for you to interact back, waiting for the all clear.

If you opened your eyes, you know you would meet his concerned gaze. After this long, being the object of Donnie’s sole focus wasn’t nearly as intense as it was in the beginning. Now, you could see the emotion there, behind the thoughts always moving, always considering a problem, defining a solution.

You tightened your hold, pressed a kiss to say thank you where the bones of his collar connected to his throat, and heard his low hum in affirmation. One hand left your back, tunneled into your hair, fingers rubbing firmly up and down the sides of your skull. 

“There, little better?” He asked, tilting back in his chair, long legs crossing before resting on the desk. He let you loop your arms around his neck, the hard surface of his plastron buzzing with the music’s vibrations more than your skin was. The thick sound of his churr keeping time like a particularly deep drum under the wave of sound.

You pressed yourself tighter to him in answer. “Thanks, Donnie.” 

“Anytime,” He kissed your temple, pet back your hair. “Anytime you need it.” 

Focus

Raph found you stalking back and forth along the canal in the Lair. He heard the angry slap of your feet, the harsh breathes coming out too fast, too strong, and felt a tightness in his chest long before he caught a glimpse of your face.

You didn’t notice him at first, a feat in itself, eyes on your tightly laced sneakers as you wore a ditch into the concrete, blinking constantly to be able to make out the surface.

“Hey.” He tried, not reaching out, not stopping your path of movement. It took two more calls, his voice slipping deeper, until a particularly rumbled ‘baby’ caught your attention, and you stopped so fast your knees protested.

Raph tracked over you, wanting to reach out, wanting to hold you, knowing it was the last thing you would want at this moment.

You were teetering at the edge of an abyss. Work, Life, Pressure. It was a mantra inside your head, everything that was wrong, everything that was out of your control. You couldn’t meet his eyes, only stared at the blearily outline of green and red, feeling yourself start to hiccup the longer you stayed still, knowing you were well on the way to making yourself sick. 

Raph rumbled again, a thump thump thump you could barely hear, a sort of mantra of his own. I see you, I understand, I know. When you jerked your head away, far too gone for comfort, he tried a different approach, finally moving to block your path.

“Follow me.” He jerked his head over his shoulder, but you were already moving past him, knowing where he wanted you, what he was after. You moved so fast, your steps jerky, angry, that he ended up following you into his weight room, found you practically vibrating as you fought to stay in one piece.

“The bag.” He ordered, another jerk of his head, tone brooking no argument. He wasn’t even sure if you could string together two thoughts to make a syllable at this moment without puking, but he knew you needed something physical, before you made yourself sick.

So he stooped to brace the bag, turned it towards you, winced internally at the thought of not being able to wrap your hands. He made a quick gut decision, grabbing an old pair of gloves and tossing them towards you. They were old, and smelled to high heaven, but they hadn’t fit his hands since he’d hit puberty, and they’d save your knuckles. 

When you gripped them, angry, he let the crack in his voice deepen. “You’re gonna wear them, whether you want to or not. I’m not gonna let you bust your hands.”

You rolled your eyes, tears still tracking down your face, but the particular scowl scrunching his features kept you from arguing, and…. Your hands were already aching, where you’d griped the thin bones in your hands too tight.

So you donned the gloves, took a stance, and swung before Raph could get a word in edgewise. The bag vibrated, but the shock transferred back up your arm, drawing out a pained hiss in the process.

Raph chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I bet that didn’t feel too hot, did it, sweetheart? You gonna listen this time, or are you dead set on hurting yourself somehow?”

You still felt the ache in your muscles, focusing on the punishment. You gave another jab, expecting more, expecting to connect with the sand filled bag, but Raph moved faster than you could process, his large hand taking the hit, curling around your glove to keep it in place.

“Don’t be an idiot.” He growled. “Slow down, think it through. You’re not doing anyone any favors punishing yourself.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, wanted to resume, but he held on tight, brought your glove forward until to pressed against the surface of his plastron, pushed until there was no more room to move forward. 

“You do that again,” he threatened out in a rumble, “and I’ll see that you regret it.” 

You shivered, but he moved away, ducked around the bag again, held it steady. 

“Now.” He intoned, and you knew what he wanted, what he was ordering.

So you fixed your stance, danced side to side, imagined your opponent. Imagined a hook coming your way, slipped past with only a faint jitter of hesitation before delivering a hard liver shot, ducking to the other side before jabbing on the rebound, your weight dancing effortlessly side to side the longer you went.

Raph kept quiet, now that you were thinking, problem solving, working out the frustration properly. He kept his eyes trained on your own, watching you come back, watching the tears slow, stop, and a hard determination take its place.

When you finally moved away from the bag, from him, he followed like a shadow, crowding into your space, stopping a hands breath away.

“You feeling better?” He mimicked your nod, continuing, “good. You need to talk about it?”

When you shook your head, lifted your hand to wipe at your face, he stopped you, grip firm and careful as he kept the filthy glove from touching your skin. You stared down at the gloves, nose wrinkling, not missing the chuckle that escaped him.

“Yeah. Sorry bout that.” He peeled it off your hand, before switching to the other, holding both your wrists in his much larger grip, thumbs pushing into sore muscles. “But I can make it up to you, if you’d like?”

You tsked, finding your lip curling up as he let that hopeful thump thump thump once more, moving into your space until he could cage you in between his arms. 

“Sure, Red. Make it up to me.”

Redirect

Mikey found you curled up on your fire escape, staring moodily at the dirty brick. He landed rather loud, wanting to warn you, wanting to see that wide smile break across your face like it always did when you saw him.

Instead, you stayed focused on the wall, and he deflated a little, before frowning, wondering if you knew it was him, or if you were so out of it you honestly didn’t realize you weren’t alone.

“Babycakes! You ok?” He let his voice carry, his suspicions confirmed when you blinked at the sound of his voice, twisted around in confusion. 

“Oh! Hey Mikey.” But you didn’t smile at seeing him, only pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapped your arms around them, laid your head across the top.

He moved to your side, folded in on himself, shuffled forward until he could press his leg, his arm against your own. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

You hummed, nodded, not moving when he reached out, ran a hand through your hair. “M’ just tired.” You rubbed your head against your knees. “Can’t sleep.”

He tilted his head, considering you, the open window behind the two of you. “You wanna go lay down? I bet I could help you sleep.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You shook your head again, and he removed his hand, leaning backwards and bracing himself on his palms, nudged you with his leg. “C’mon, baby, talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“Oh, Mikey,” you smiled at his insistence. “I’m just a little caught up at the moment.” At his confused look, you tapped the side of your head. “Thoughts too loud to sleep, Angelo. Wouldn’t be fair for you to deal with that.”

He frowned, moved forward again, tapping a quick rhythm on his knees, watching as you focused on the movement. An idea sparked, and he quickly shuffled forward, mimicking your pose once more, eyes quickly moving around until he found what he was looking for.

“Look,” He pointed, reached out to tilt your head the correct direction when you hummed in confusion. You saw a tall man walking down the street, dressed to impress, fashion impeccable. You turned a confused look towards Michelangelo, wondering what in the world he was about pointing out a handsome man to you.

“Where do you think he’s going?” He asked, nudged your shoulder until you gave a sigh, answering just to get him to stop:

“I don’t know-” at his puppy dog eyes, you tried again, “maybe, maybe off to a fancy dinner? A promotion?” You lifted a hand to your head, rubbed at the ache.

“Hm.” Mikey hummed, considering. “I bet he’s leaving a date with his wife, on his way to lead a double life,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, aware you didn’t realize you were leaning into him to hear his words, “as a strongman in the  illegal underground circus.”

You stared at him for a beat, taking in his pleased grin, before the first bubble of laughter caught you by surprised, escaped before you could reel it in. “What?” You asked, hand coming up to muffle the sound. 

Mikey tugged your hand down, claiming it in his grip as he pointed out another character. “Look at her! See how she walks so fast?” He glanced over at you, saw your eyes tracking the figure. “Bet she’s late for a super villain meeting, and she’s completely forgotten it’s her turn to bring the snacks.”

“Super villain meeting?” You echoed, unfurling a little, letting him pull you closer. “Shouldn’t you tell Leo about that?”

“Eh,” Mikey shrugged, fingers dancing up and down your sides when you leaned into him. “I was going to, but they keep bribing me with pizza.”

“That would work.” You nodded along when he agreed with your assessment, then pointed. “What about him?”

Mikey followed your gaze. “Oh. Him?” He paused a moment, glancing between you and the person. “Hey, how come the people you pick are handsome?”

You sputtered, “What? He’s the first one I picked!”

“Nu uh,” Mikey shook his head, grateful you couldn’t see his face. “You picked the first one, and he was handsome, too.”

“Mikey, you picked the first one.” Your voice pitched up at the end, clearly hiding laughter, and you could feel him shake behind you.

“No I didn’t, I clearly remember you did.” He insisted, hands slipping around your waist when you turned in his grip, legs boxing in your elbows when you jabbed a retaliatory finger into his plastron.

Jab. “You.” Another jab. “Are an absolute.” Jab jab. “Menace, Mi-” 

He kissed you, a quick press of lips before he bubbled your cheek. “Oh yea? Got you smiling, babe.”

You slumped against him, and he braced a palm behind him to keep from toppling back, concerned for half a beat before he felt the shivers of your laugh against his chest. He let out a soft churr, and you nuzzled into the sound.

“God, what would I do without you, Mikey?” You asked, looped your arms around him as far as they would go.

“You aren’t ever gonna find out, baby.” He replied, gathering you closer, letting you slot yourself against him, content to stay outside in the cold for as long as you wanted.