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rallentando1011 · 5 months

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Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

(continuation of this drabble)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3730

The late night bled into early morning, yielding a desperately deprived turtle the next day.

It was already well into the afternoon when he finally stirred following what could hardly be considered a restful night.

He did it to himself; he was aware of that. Still didn’t stop him from scrolling ceaselessly all night long. The only thing that prevented him from getting back on his phone this morning was the fact that he neglected to plug any of his technology in last night.

Groggily, he leaned over to the side of his bed to place his phone on its port.

Regardless of his disoriented mind and the sleepiness in his eyes that couldn’t seem to go away by rubbing them, Donnie recognized that he should probably get out of bed.

Any time now.

Donnie blinked, waiting for any response from his limbs to the orders from his mind. After a few more moments, his legs lugged themselves over the side of his mattress, his arms willed themselves to push him up to sit on his silky purple sheets.

The softshell rested his elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of his bed, his head drooped to the perfect level for his radial fingers to once again try to instill some alertness in his system by rubbing his eyes. It was, once again, to no avail, so he settled on just getting otherwise prepared for the day.

Donnie pushed himself up from his bed uneasily, taking tentative steps toward his desk. The terrapin latched onto the side of it as soon as it was within reach, relying on it to hold himself upright. Alright, getting out of bed proved successful. His attention landed on his next task: prepping his tech.

A three-digited hand glided over the desk to snag the purple fabric mask he wore on the daily. Donnie squinted at it to inspect the crispness of the drawn-on eyebrows on the mask and, upon finding them to be satisfactory, fastened the cloth around his head. His fingers moved adeptly and swiftly, used to the type of knot he needed to produce the signature triangular mask tails at the base of his neck.

After the mask came his goggles, mystically enhanced and forged by his own hand. Though uneven in size and color, the left side being slender, taller, with a blue lens, the other stout and red, their receptors picked up on mystic energy, had night vision, among other tactical, practical things, due to the mystic gems he’d integrated into them. He gently scooped his goggles up, mindlessly sliding them right into place.

Next on the agenda was his battle shell. Similar in hue to his mask and also made by the resident genius himself, the tech served many a function. It provided additional, albeit metallic, hands for working and fighting, it housed a plethora of complex and futuristic weaponry, and it executed its primary function: providing protection for his vulnerable softshell.

He slid the addition onto his back, relishing the satisfying click as it moved right into place.

No sooner than it was on, Donnie almost jumped straight out of it.

A screeching noise sounded loudly from beside his bed.

The turtle practically leapt into the air, unceremoniously landing halfway on his desk and sending a flurry of empty aluminum cans and pens to the ground.

Hand to his chest like a septuagenarian clutching their pearls, he pinpointed the noise to the nightstand beside his bed. His phone must have charged.

It didn’t sound like his normal alarm, or the one that went off when some unimaginable mystic horror was attacking New York.

No, it was an alarm that meant something far worse.

His face sunk as he leapt back over to his phone, hoping not to confirm what he already knew was true.

It was the unfortunate alarm that meant only one thing: it was someone’s birthday

Lo and behold, as soon as he turned on his phone’s screen, it revealed the name and picture of the one and only April O’Neil.

April, his best friend/sister with a track record of terrible birthdays which he was probably making worse by not having already messaged her warm regards this late in the day.

Yeah, that April.

For the love of Sørenson, he was in some deep water.

No, no, need to panic yet. Maybe the sentiment behind his gift for her would keep her from becoming irate with him.

He glanced back to the aforementioned present, currently sitting on his desk beside a dozing S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

Surely the (possibly) sentient toaster he made for her that made the perfect toast (and definitely would not turn destructive or downright evil) would soothe any qualms she had with him!

…

He needed to message her ASAP.

Donnie opened his phone only to be subject to even more terrors.

19 missed calls from April. Even more from his brothers. Flurries of texts and voicemails and oh Galileo was he screwed.

The plethora of frantic messages led to him checking what time April’s party began, and checking the time led to a deeper panic to sink in. It started in negative thirty minutes.

A.K.A. thirty minutes ago.

Donnie froze.

Then he bolted, paying no mind to trying to message anyone back, instead haphazardly slapping on some clothes, snagging April’s gift, and getting the heck to her party.

He could fabricate an excuse/apology on the way there.

Probably something about how it took time to look this good.

Or, the more likely ladder, begging April for forgiveness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had also had a late start to the day.

A late-night business venture had led you to messaging all night and boy, were you tired.

Still, you’d managed to get yourself up with about a metric tonne of coffee and a birthday party as incentive.

The birthday party, of course, belonged to none other than THE April O’Neil.

You had met her at a retail job, a fairly mundane one that had subpar pay and even more bland shifts.

Your shifts, however, were quickly livened up by April’s presence. She always had a joke to crack, or got into some wacky, zany shenanigan that led to you two laughing up a storm and/or getting in trouble with your superiors.

April quickly moved on from the job, resigning after she missed too many days and it became too boring for her adrenaline junkie side. It wasn’t that it was an infrequent occurrence for her to quit. That girl had worked just about every career in the city, an impressive feat in the Big Apple.

Despite how she bounced around from job to job from week to week, your bond remained sturdy, the two of you still frequenting coffee shops and sending each other dumb memes.

Hence you found yourself awaking much earlier than you preferred, throwing on a cozy, yet nice enough sweater and jeans, and making your way to April’s apartment.

That led you to where you currently sat on her couch. In one hand sat your nigh empty solo cup, sloshing lightly with each flick of your wrist, in the other was a stack of seven appropriately foul cards for the ongoing game of Cards Against Humanity at the party.

The living room, where the congregation was gathered, was abuzz with light conversation and warm, glowy lights. The birthday girl herself sat beside you on the couch, one knee tucked over the other.

You knew some of the guests, having been acquainted with them from prior meetings: Sunita, a previous birthday of April’s, and Casey, a few movie nights with her and April. The former was also on the couch, wearing a silky magenta dress, nestled between the armrest and April. The latter sat on the ground, wearing ripped black jeans and a muscle shirt adorned with numerous skulls and crossbows. Some of those in attendance, however, were newly introduced to you.

Namely, the bale of turtle brothers that you met today.

April had frequently talked of her brothers and some of the ridiculous situations she got into with them, like leaping over rooftops, exploring sewers, and had mentioned that they weren’t the most normal of company. You hadn’t realized how much so she meant that.

As soon as you’d arrived, nearly an hour ago, the youngest had introduced himself in a very bubbly manner, with an enthusiastic handshake and brilliant smile to boot. The turtle was dressed in a snug, orange turtleneck (of all things), a mask that matched the color of the shirt, and deep brown pants. He mentioned his name was Mikey as he continued shaking your hand, much to your amusement and confusion.

A taller turtle, clad in blue with a major lack of clothing, save for his mask, gloves, spats, and a fanny pack, had gently shoved his younger brother away, saying something along the lines of “let’s not dismember the first new person we’ve met in a while.”

That one introduced himself as Leo, or, as he added, “the coolest one.” You were fairly certain you’d just call him by his name.

Next, you were greeted by an approximately six-foot-tall turtle mutant. Though he seemed intimidating, he offered a rather demure hello, only telling you his name, Raph, when April nudged him with her elbow.

The entire time you’d stood just in the doorway, trying to process the whole situation. You were quickly brought out of your stupor by your friend snapping in front of your face, at which point you offered up your own name.

With the greetings out of the way, you barely had time to set down the gift you brought with the other ones on a side table in the small, comely kitchen and get a drink before April dragged you into the living room to join the festivities, along with Sunita and Casey, who were busy imbibing and chatting.

Each guest helped comprise the good-natured atmosphere and the gaggle of silly geese that was partaking in Cards Against Humanity.

Speaking of the game, it had been getting out of hand.

A white card about a snapping turtle biting an appendage in an unsavory manner had made the tallest turtle, Raph, grow fairly embarrassed, his face about as red as his mask while Casey and Leo razzed him.

Many a vulgar word was jokingly thrown out about certain celebrities.

Even more out of pocket things were exchanged through round after consecutive round.

Once you passed a card to the correct player, you mindlessly brought your cup to your lips, tilting it back and waiting for your sweet refreshment to grace your tongue. However, the endeavor proved unsuccessful, and as you scrutinized it, you noticed a severe lack of drink.

Well, you figured that in between rounds was the best time to leave the living room and the game to get something else to imbibe.

You leant up from where you’d been burrowed in the crevice of the couch, the sudden shift and lack of warmth drawing your proximate companion’s attention.

“You all good?” April inquired politely as you stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just getting a refill,” you rattled your cup, as if proving it bereft of beverage, and exchanged smiles with your pal.

As you stepped around other various cups along the ground, the blue one- er, Leo started to read through the cards he’d been given. “Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s the amount of baby carrots-”

His voice trailed out of range as you dipped into the kitchen, mostly grateful for having avoided the rest of that sentence that made laughter burst out from the other room.

You merely shook your head with lighthearted amusement and crossed the room to two-liter drinks sitting on the counter. You rested one elbow on the countertop while your other hand generously poured yourself another glass.

Suddenly, the sound of three heavy raps at the front door drew your attention, your hand almost spilling the drink as you startled.

You set the bottle down, crossing back over by the door. With the ruckus coming from the living room entrance to your left, you assumed, likely correctly, that no one else had heard it. Welp, duty called.

So, you peered through the peephole to view who had knocked, only to see a hooded figure. Under their arm, an ornate metal box that you could only imagine to be a present was tucked.

Though you couldn’t exactly discern who was there, the gift and overall relaxed demeanor of the person was enough to convince you to open the door.

The figure before you sighed loudly, almost out of breath. They then seemed to draw in a large breath, as if preparing to start a speech of some sort, but stopped themself.

A purple hoodie hung cozily off his torso, the lavender tint only slightly lighter than that of his mask, but not off enough for them to not work cohesively. Gray cargo pants, intricately adorned with zippers and pockets, complemented the other apparel, and matched the shade of a jewel hanging off of a delicate chain loosely around his neck.

You took in more of his features as your eyes roved over his character.

Amber eyes. Warm enough. Almost inviting if not for the subtle distaste, possibly sleepiness, written in the creases of his lower lids. His eyes, however, were not the most obvious quality about him.

No, that distinction just about had to belong to the fact that he was a turtle.

Yeah, that seemed about right. April had been ranting to the three other turtle mutants about the lack of their brother, who you guessed to be the man right in front of you.

A jade, three-phalanged hand raised, offered a slight twitch of its wrist. His hand. A wave.

You stirred yourself from your thoughts, hoping you hadn’t come across as rude for ruminating a moment, and returned a polite wave of your own.

“Hey!” you greeted nicely, taking a step back to give him room and passage into the apartment. “I’m presuming you’re Donatello?”

For a second, you thought you’d heard the name wrong, based on how he uncomfortably sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. Before you could correct yourself, he spoke up.

“Bold of you to presume, but I can’t say you’re not correct,” Donatello shrugged as he let himself inside. You shut the door behind him. He cleared his throat. “Sticking with the theme of presumptions, and the fact that you called me by my government name, I’d say April’s ticked?”

Despite how you tried to hide your caution, your eyes still widened, and you gave a weary smile. “I think that the card games have calmed her down a bit, but I’d still tread lightly.” The conversation paused, neither of you knowing where to continue it before you thought of something he said. “Do you go by another name?”

He blinked quickly, pondering what you meant before catching on. “Donnie,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sharing your own name. You continued on, not wanting to go back to the awkward atmosphere of about twenty seconds prior. “Well, presents are over there,” you tilted your head toward the table where a few other gift bags were sitting, “and there are drinks on the counter.” You gestured behind you with a point of your thumb. “Everyone’s in the living room playi-”

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” a familiar voice sounded from the living space entryway. April. She did not sound pleased.

Unsurprisingly, as you pivoted toward her, you noticed she didn’t look pleased either. Hands on her hips, lips in a pout. This Donnie fellow was in some deep trouble.

The terrapin froze from where he was setting down his metallic box, raising his hands. “Ah, April! Happy birthday?”

O’Neil was not having it.

“D, show up to my birthday on time, and then you get to wish me happy birthday” April bit back before heading to the counter and grabbing your drink for you. “Sorry about that,” she smiled pleasantly at you and, having seen April get peeved before, you knew to just smile and thank her.

Quip exchanged and turtle thoroughly perturbed, you followed April back into the cozy living space. You glanced back over your shoulder to see if he had even moved yet, but he still looked flabbergasted and left trying to formulate a response as he left your view.

You reclaimed your spot on the couch, easing back into the game. After only a few moments, the purple one emerged from the kitchen, drink in hand and dourness on his face. He lackadaisically glanced at the empty spot beside you on the couch and, once you scooted over slightly, plopped down next to you with a soft thud.

All of the other partygoers seemed very amused at his air, especially Leo, who grinned wickedly. “Look who showed-”

“‘Nardo, just don’t and deal me in.” If Donnie’s tone didn’t cut the joke down quickly, the glance he shot his brother certainly did.

“Yeesh, alright.” His brother relented and thumbed out seven cards.

The turtle beside you physically recoiled upon seeing the name of the game. While the game kicked back up with Sunita’s turn to read a black card, you gave him a puzzled look. He elaborated on his reaction, saying “This is garbage tier entertainment. Practically the card game equivalent of pineapples on pizza.”

Your lips parted slightly, and you squinted, trying to grasp that analogy. However, it was absurd enough that you let out a small chuckle.

As the rounds pressed on, you kept sipping at your drink and exchanging the occasional remark with April or Donnie.

Once, Mikey had said a combination of words that was especially rank. Based on his scrunched-up face, you assumed the small turtle had no idea what he was talking about, but it was bad either way.

“I can hardly believe we’re partaking in something so crass,” Donnie whispered beside you and placed the back of his hand on his forehead theatrically in a tone that rested in a valley between sarcastic and sanctimonious. You homed in on the former.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely revolting,” you agreed jokingly, not so subtly tucking the four black cards you had earned under the hand resting on your lap.

You two made eye contact long enough for small, guilty smiles to form on your faces. The two of you hardly stifled your rye chuckles enough to turn your attention back to the game at hand.

Despite his supposed disposition against the game and his late start, he ended up making it to five cards first and taking the game, much to everyone else’s shock and dismay.

“Huh. Crass, eh?” you snickered, earning a playful scowl from Donnie and an encouraging nudge from April’s elbow.

The good humor of the group followed you all as you moved into the kitchen for opening presents and cake.

The confection came first, the credit for baking it being attributed to the bubbliest turtle of the bunch, Mikey. He offered a bashful grin when April thanked him for it. Before anyone could get into the heavenly smelling sweet, Casey excitedly reminded you all that a rendition of happy birthday was due, slinging her arm tightly around April’s shoulders.

Raph counted you all off, everyone’s voices taking a gradual crescendo into singing.

Sure, the chorus of voices was probably singing in a different key each, but, overall, it wasn’t the worst execution of the song that you’d ever heard. Plus, the sentiment behind it was nice.

Following the song came the cutting and distribution of the cake, which was a spiced sponge with a light cream cheese frosting to pair. You practically melted at the flavor, passing your compliments along with the entire group to the baker.

Next came presents. April delighted in the soft throw blankets and candies and plushies she received, giving each stuffed toy aggressive hugs and names. An outlier from these cute gifts was a mace that April handled warily. Casey’s present. Speaking of Jones herself, she was waiting with bated breath to see April’s reaction. Upon receiving an uncertain thumbs up, Casey loudly cheered, poking Raph in the face and bragging the superiority of her present.

Another present that didn’t quite match the others was that metallic box you saw Donnie bring in earlier. When April opened it, it revealed a toaster-like piece of technology, filled to the brim with dials, levers, bells, whistles, the whole assortment.

It seemed very… technologically advanced.

April was… appreciative, albeit apprehensive, with pursed lips in a cautious smile. It made you wonder if something like this had been gifted and possibly backfired before.

You hadn’t much time to dwell on the thought, seeing as Donnie jumped immediately into a spiel on the workings of the toaster, which button did what, its functions, etc.

April listened for all of two minutes before moving onto the last present. Yours. You watched as she made her way through the cute sticker sheet of random objects on the top, the candy in the middle, her favorite kind, and finally to the pièce de résistance.

April went slack-jawed as she held it up: a customized hoodie with Warren Stone inside of a heart-shaped locket, the text reading “Warren, my beloved.” Her affinity for the news reporter was evident in the sheer number of times she brought him up, so her appreciation of the man became a running gag between you two. However, you couldn’t have imagined a better reaction as she squealed and gave you a big hug.

Thank you’s and you’re welcome’s were shared between April and everyone there, and by that point, it was time to call it a day. Not before a huge group chat was formed with everyone in attendance and contact information was exchanged.

Once you grabbed all of your things and made it to the door, you once again wished April a happy birthday, exchanged another hug with her, before you were on your way.

High on your enjoyable time with friends old and new, you happily skipped home. Your new companions certainly intrigued you, especially the one you’d exchanged many a quip and joke with.

You wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

Continued here

(I’m working on adding plot in here so this a fairly short addition, but now I've gotten the introductions through with! I hope you enjoy!)

Taglist~

@rottmntsimp

#rottmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise season 3 #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt x reader #rise donatello x reader #soulmates #part 1 #my writing #100

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