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rottmntsimp · 1 day

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Hello !（｡>‿‿<｡）

Can you do a one-shot for rise Leo x a crush reader were the reader is in a band as a vocalist and drummer but the thing is *drum roll* the band members wear masks to hide their identity :D but Leo discovers readers identify? (Reader can be fem or gn if you like) :)

It’s You

Rise Leo and Vocalist, Drummer Reader

Word Count: 1718

(I think this concept is really fun and had a good time with it! Thanks for the request! I’ve specified here in my guidelines that I’ll only take expressly romantic requests for Donnie. However, stuff where I can write it through a platonic lens and leave the rest up to the reader’s interpretation (like in this case) absolutely works for me :)) Hope you enjoy!)

A certain form of anticipation is synonymous with a public performance, both for those supplying and those indulging in the entertainment.

Leo definitely feels that anticipation building as he stands in a crowd of rowdy concert-goers, himself included, and waits for the show to begin.

In the meantime, he busies himself with checking his messages, specifically the ones he sent to you.

You told him earlier that you had work and couldn’t accompany him to the concert, which was a bummer, but he sent you a message asking if you wanted to hang out some other time afterwards. Checking his phone only reveals that you still haven’t gotten back to him about it.

Leo pouts and looks up, asking his brothers beside him if they’ve heard from you. It’s sort of odd for you to not see or respond to his messages.

“Maybe they’ve finally come to their senses about you,” Donnie thinks aloud, scrolling on his own phone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leo quirks his brow bone.

Mikey interjects before hostilities can be exchanged. “What Donnie meant to say is that they said they’re at work and probably not on their phone right now.”

“No, that’s not remotely what I meant. I was implying that- ow, Raph, what was that for?”

Raph crosses his arms, definitely not having just kicked his purple clad brother. “Instigating. Raph doesn’t need any of this younger sibling bickering-”

“Respectfully, everyone shut up!” Leo gasps, staring at the now occupied stage with starstruck eyes as his worries leave his mind. “The show’s starting!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything today has been going terribly awry.

First, you woke up way later than you intended, like, the brink of being late to your band’s gig, barely ate save for a snack or two out the door, and then, the pièce de résistance, you had to turn down Leo’s offer to join him and his brothers watch a band because you are a part of that band.

You saw the text while on the subway to the venue, offering to portal you from your place to grab a slice and watch your band.

With a heavy heart, you messaged him back with a vague excuse about having to work tonight and being busy tomorrow and unable to have a late night. He could probably see right through you and your flimsy reasoning, but you didn’t have time to think about that. You had a job to do, and you’d be darned if you didn’t do it right.

You shut your phone off and all distractions down as you made it out of the subway station, down a few streets, to the back entrance of the locale. Swiftly, you slipped your way in.

You shrugged off the teasing jabs you received from your bandmates about your unpunctuality, opting to just slip into a dressing room.

You pulled on the outfit that you’d packed in your bookbag, slightly more perfunctory than the clothing you wore on the way over, before staring down your mask.

Sure, the days leading up to performances could be rough, but once you put on that mask, it feels like you’re a complete other person, like your day hasn’t been so cruddy. That’s the main reason you had suggested that the band wear their favorite colored masks, the other being that you may have been inspired by certain reptilian friends of yours.

So, you pulled on your mask, concealed your dourness, sleepiness, doubt, everything weighing you down, exited the dressing room, immersed yourself in the fog of the stage with your fellow members.

Now you find yourself seated before your drum set, your microphone, your audience. With your drumsticks in hand and blinding stage lights flooding your vision, you steady yourself with a deep breath and get down to business.

Your foot hits the bass drum pedal on beat, sends a pulse through you, allows you to internalize it like a metronome. The sound waves ring out from the bass in an almost synaesthetic display, bright colors proliferating throughout the room.

Just like that, you are off.

The crash of the cymbals, patter of the tom-toms, diddles on the snare merely feel like extensions of yourself. Any and all performance jitters you felt fade away as you allow yourself to get into the music and have fun.

You can discern the sounds of the bass, guitar, synth layering over the beat you lay down.

Your voice’s timbre cuts through the accompaniment, sounding out over it yet blending seamlessly. The first song rushes by as quickly as the adrenaline rushes through your veins, and when it ceases and you hear the roar of applause from the audience, you know that tonight’s going to be much better than the first half of your day.

As you bask in the positive feedback between songs, a few people in the audience draw your attention. Raph, Mikey, Donnie, and Leo, all seeming to be enjoying themselves and the music. In particular, Leo looks ecstatic, his gaze fixated on you.

You smirk. You have the audience, you have the attention, why not have a little fun with the next few songs?

You kick everything up a notch, improvising paradiddles and harmonies, giving the performance absolutely everything you have left in the tank.

Seeing the wide grin on the turtle’s face and receiving uproarious praise, though, makes it all worth it.

The concert ends far sooner than you would have preferred. Guess it was true that time flies when you’re having fun.

With one final crash of the cymbals and a bow, you make your way off the stage, behind the curtains, on top of some miscellaneous crates as you throw down your sweat soaked mask and guzzle down as much cool water as you can.

Out in the audience, a flow of outgoing people trudges their way out, save for the four turtle brothers.

“Did you see that guitar? The design was so cool, and blue! I wonder how much they’d want for it. And the drummer! They were wicked!” Leo gushes.

His brothers just nod along with a few ‘yeah’s, having heard Leo pour over the same things for multiple minutes now.

The red-eared slider ceases his yapping as he looks at the stage, eyes going wide as he gets an idea.

“I’m sure they won’t mind if I just pop on back to say hi real quick and maybe get an autograph, okayseeyouatthelairlaterbyeee-!”

Before his brothers can get a word in, Leo uses his ninpō to form a portal and hop into the dim backstage area.

He looks around for a moment, only able to see the outline of the curtain and a few boxes while his eyes are adjusting to the low light.

Then, he sees one of the performers from the stage a few feet away from him, laying on some crates. The drummer, based on their height. He can’t base it off of their mask or their looks since they were facing the other direction.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

He freezes. He’s supposed to be a ninja; were his stealth skills so bad that someone could sense him that easily?

“Come on. You know how it worked out last time you tried to scare me after a gig. Spare yourself the bruised nose; you know I’m not good with scares,” you call behind you to whom you assume to be the band’s bassist, who has a habit of trying to spook everyone else.

He stays frozen.

You huff, push yourself off of your seat of crates, turn around. “Look, cut the sh- oh.”

It isn’t your bandmate behind you. It’s Leo, slack jawed and flabbergasted and completely still.

“Oh my- you are not supposed to be here- why are you here?” you ask, incredulous, as you slap your hands over your face.

Leo takes another silent moment before a high pitched squeal emits from his throat.

“Whaaaaat?! ¡No manches! This has been your ‘job’ the whole time?!” Leo laughs and puts a hand on his forehead.

“Yep, it’s me,” you grumble, pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no way this is really happening.

“That’s- You’re so cool!” He clicks his tongue as if contemplating something. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You blink at him. That’s a question you’ve asked yourself many a time, though you’ve never settled on a definitive answer.

“I think it’s something about it being a mystery, a little piece of myself that no one else gets to know about outside of my bandmates. Not exactly escapism, but close.”

“So that’s the reason for the mask?” He taps his own.

“Sort of.” You hum in thought, think about if you should tell him where you got the idea from.

Does he need the ego boost? Definitely not.

Will you still give him it? Sure, why not?

“You know, the design was inspired by you,” you admit, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Really?!”

“Well, you and your brothers, to be more specific.”

“Nope, no need to be specific. You can just continue on with how big of an inspiration I am.”

You snicker at his display of cockiness before sobering up.

“Just- please don’t tell anyone else that I’m in this band, that this is me.”

“Indubitably, my accomplice.” Indubitably. He always says that word when he lies, and you always call his bluff.

“No, no, I’m serious about this…” You pause, glance to the side for a moment. “I’ll give you VIP passes to all of our shows if you promise not to blab about this.”

“Deal!” He immediately puts out his hand for a shake. “Wait! VIP passes, and you let me take you for pizza tonight if you’re free, then we have a deal.”

“Did you and the guys not go for pizza earlier?” you pressed.

“We did, but we both know that I’m not above having pizza multiple times in the same day,” he winks.

“Fine. Deal.” You place your hand in his tridactyl one, give it a firm shake, then get ready to grab a slice.

It’s safe to say that you have pizza after quite a few gigs after that. It’s duly safe to say that you have one consistent, quite possibly your biggest fan at every single performance from then on.

#simp reblogs

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rottmntsimp · 1 day

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Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

Chapter Warning : threats, self-neglect

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word Count: 1859

The saccharine savor of saturated soda.

A coppery taste laid pungent on your tongue.

A birthday party.

Concrete but harshly into your skin, the pavement cold, harsh.

Flashes of movie nights and spontaneous excursions and too many late nights spent in a lab and unmistakable looks of betrayal.

Your head was plagued by a dull, throbbing pain, extremities felt all-but-atrophied, throat scratchy with dehydration-

You coughed.

If the resulting thick cloud of dust and dirt beside your head didn’t clue you in, the unsavory feel of the - floor? - ground certainly revealed that you weren’t at home, in the lair, anywhere familiar, for that matter.

It took genuine effort to open your eyes. But despite the difficulty of it-

Wait, where were you?

You blinked rapidly; your vision and mind became increasingly more lucid as you processed - this genuinely wasn’t home or the lair or any place you’d seen in your entire life.

Panic was the worst thing you could do. It was also the easiest.

Worry settled in the pit of your stomach, but instead of allowing whatever sparse contents of your intestines to spill over the silt-like ground, you swallowed, pushed yourself up on aching limbs, surveyed the dim room you inhabited.

The walls consisted of thick concrete blocks, dusty, drab, barren. A small divet in the wall revealed an exposed bathroom of sorts, though its contents were rudimentary at best: a toilet with the complexity and basic mechanics of a chamber pot, a rusty faucet and a drain. There was almost no light, save for the only miniscule source of light a barred cell window on the door.

Door.

Before you could process it, you were upon the door, pushing and pulling in the off chance it was unlocked and you could go scot-free.

It wasn’t.

Okay, time to try something else.

Looking around the room for anything useful sounded promising. It was at least something to do.

You trailed the perimeter like a hyper animal, searching for vulnerabilities or secret levers or buttons or anything that could be of use. The best you could find were sharp pebbles and stones which, okay, in a pinch those might be able to injure or distract someone. Not the best resource but, either to feel more secure or out of genuine regard for the rocks, you slipped them in your pocket.

Some sort of mental warning bell began to ring, a meager voice in the back of your signaling some sort of change or imminent threat.

You swung back around to face the door, your ears perked up, your arms prickled with goose-flesh.

A rhythmic clack sounded from outside the door, the sound vaguely reminiscent of how superintendents in a school stalked down the hallway to penalize a student, the footsteps intent, menacing.

The noise came to a halt in front of your door with an ominous click.

You looked out of the door’s window. The view was no longer just a bare hallway. Someone was there. No one other than the one responsible for your impromptu incarceration.

The spider.

Well, at the moment she didn’t quite look like the spider, down about four feet and a few inches and six legs.

In human form she was less physically daunting, but her predatory persona, wicked grin, not to mention her notorious track record, all classified her as a force to be reckoned with.

“Hello,” was all she said, smug and all too bubbly.

You scowled. Even with all of your ailments, you found quite enough energy to be upset.

“Why are you even here? To gloat?”

Her lack of response and never-changing predatory grin were enough of an answer to you.

You scoffed before she finally said something of substance.

“Big Mama always gets what she wants. That’s not what your confuzzled little mind should be concerning itself with.”

“Really? What pressing matter should have my attention then?”

“Oh, how jocular,” the woman snickered condescendingly. “Perhaps your own well being, hm? Or maybe the turtle’s?”

You clenched your jaw.

Big Mama seemed delighted.

“There exist strict lines between business and personal matters, and you seem to have tangled yourself up in that wobbly web. Frankly, I find scenarios such as yours to be positively scrumptious, and I can scarcely wait for it to unfold.

“After all the flim-flam and busywork and contracts are signed, it’ll be high time to rid myself of all the dispensable details, superfluous items such as yourself.”

“What?” you retracted, shrinking away from the door as if that could save you from whatever the arachnid was talking about.

Big Mama’s amusement as she turned away made it abundantly clear it wouldn’t.

“You broke your end of the deal; it’s null and void. It’s precisely what you’re soon to be: terminated.”

And with that, she walked away, the clicks and clacks of her steps doing nothing to help stop the sinking feeling of impending doom filling the cell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours had passed. And then a day. Two, maybe. It was easy to lose track of time in the lab, with the fluorescent lighting and the droning whir of machines and soul crushing sadness still thick in the air and whatnot.

Donnie hadn’t drank. Hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten, save for a poptart Mikey’d brought him. Actually, the poptart may have been illusoryâ€¦

But never mind that, he had more pressing matters to think about and/or actively try to ignore: his emotions.

Yeah. It was unbearable.

Betrayed wasn’t quite the word for what he was feeling, even though he certainly had been; you had to trust someone to be betrayed by them, and he wasn’t quite up to admitting(strike through) saying that yet.

Devastated might suffice. Destitute could also work. Deprived, depraved, despairingâ€¦

Okay, at that point his thoughts were merely for alliteration’s sake, not to mention rather pathetic, but that was beside the point.

But in all honesty, it hurt. Some weird ping of pain in his chest, a dull, persistent ache that hadn’t fled since you left.

Closing himself in the lab proved unsuccessful in dealing with his emotions. Scrolling mindlessly on his phone failed to redress the issue as well. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to work on anything, especially with how

With his typical means of squandering emotions proven futile, he was forced to try to come to terms with them.

Ugh, emotions. Needlessly complex and complicatedly useless.

By then, he almost felt numb trying to understand how to feel. It’s just- spending immense amounts of time with somebody was, to put it briefly, extremely validating. Most people sought his company out of convenience or necessity, asking for something to be made or fixed or a crime to be thwarted or just dealing with him because he was part of a “package deal” with his siblings. It was exhausting.

Then you came along and seemed to genuinely want to hang out with him and let him explain his works and it felt good. It felt really good.

Just your presence, just that alone, assured him that some people, or at least one specific person, enjoyed him as he was, liked his company as-is.

Then you admitted it was all under false pretenses.

There it was: the classic feeling of triumph followed by a rug pull of his expectations.

It was devastating.

Welp, that was enough emotional struggle for the day. Helplessly, Donnie plopped his head back into his desk, not even moving to check if anything fell due to the rattle of the table his action caused, and closed his eyes in a restless break.

Suddenly, the whooshing sound of the door coming open startled him back to reality, slowly lifting his head from the cool metal.

Bouncy footsteps moved toward him and a familiar someone plopped in the chair beside him.

“Hey D, have you seen-”

“No, I have not,” Donnie answered April flatly, already knowing the subject - you. “I texted that earlier.”

April shook her phone for emphasis as she kicked her shoes up on the desk. “You didn’t reply. And you didn’t answer when I called.”

“Well. I’d intended to.”

“What’s going on, D?”

He crossed his arms, hugging his oversized hoodie closer to himself. “Nothing is ‘going on.’ Everything’s happy-go-lucky, sunshine and rainbows.”

They stared at each other blankly for a moment until April let out a ‘yeesh.’

“Someone’s in a mood. Did y’all get in a fight or something?”

“Like I said, everything’s fine. Must’ve just left for somewhere else inconspicuously after coming here.”

April deadpanned. “So it makes sense for someone just infatuated with you and who had lunch reservations with me today to drop off the face of the earth?”

“It’s not infatuation! Whatever we have- had, was nothing. I meant nothing.”

A gentle hand rested on his forearm. He shuddered. It retreated.

“Soâ€¦ you guys had a fight?”

“To some degree, yeah. And before you say it, it was not my fault.”

April looked unimpressed. Unconvinced.

So Donnie said the only thing that could prove it: everything you had confessed the last time he saw you.

April listened quietly, pensively, solemnly. Eventually, she spoke up politely.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. None of that was right, legally or morally or in any way, and I’m not saying we have to forgive right now,” she took in a cautious breath, “but something bad could’ve happened, and we should look into that.”

Donnie furrowed his brow. “Pardon?”

“Do you think Big Mama, organized crime boss Big Mama, is above kidnapping or blackmail?”

Huh. He hadn’t thought of that.

April continued. “Look, regardless of mistakes made and secrets kept, we shouldn’t abandon our,” Donnie shot her a testy look, “at least my, friend. We can talk about the whole feelings and deceit mumbo jumbo once we make sure everyone’s safe. And if everything’s fine, you can at least get some closure?”

Donnie pouted for one, two, three seconds before sighing.

“Fine. Why don’t you go fetch the ruffians so they can get caught up on the sitch?”

“Sure thing.”

The moment April left the room to get his brothers, he whipped out his phone and pulled up one of his self-made applications.

Now, some may consider tracking locations without people knowing as immoral or illegal or whatever, but it proved more useful than not, right?

Unfortunately - fortunately? - he had your location and-

Oh.

That was odd.

According to his, highly accurate and precise, records, your location was the Nexus - he rolled his eyes until he saw when it was last updated.

Nearly a full 24 hours ago.

Donnie sucked in a breath through gritted teeth; that was not good.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but April might’ve been right.

Something terrible happening was becoming more and more likely.

Quickly, the cogs and gears in his mind began to turn, devising a plan of action, just in case that anxious thought proved to be correct.

At least it would give him something to do. You were probably fine, anyway, even if he felt prickles of nerve-wracking dread down his spine, and it didn’t hurt to check.

Not that he cared anymore anyway. Definitely not.

(Taglist~

@rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

@niphredil-14

@hamthepan

@valeave

@hahahhahananan

(I was right, I’m posting this from prom lol))

#WOOOOOOOOOOOO #CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT UPDATE #ITS SO IN CHARACTER YO #simp reblogs

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rottmntsimp · 1 day

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Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

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

Word Count: 3204

Content warning - implied blunt force trauma (it’s brief and not in great detail - if you want to avoid it, stop reading after the line of ~~~~~~~~~)

Each step you took through the hotel lobby emitted a soft thud on the blood red, thinly carpeted floor.

No bellhop nor hotelier’s presence could stop you as you stormed past the front desk, up a small staircase, into the elevator. Not that they tried.

Coming to think of it as the elevator doors clicked shut, none of the freakishly homogeneous staff did anything but stare at you. That’s all they ever did at the Grand Nexus, apparently.

Shaking your head and yourself out of that tangent, you waved your hand in front of the array of buttons to the right of the door. After a moment, a flurry of what could best be described as bright, magical dust washed over the elevator, changing the gold and red room into jade and the typical letters on the buttons into indecipherable ones.

Jaw clenched tightly, you pressed your definitely not trembling index finger on the topmost button, the elevator whisking you up, up to the topmost level.

With a ding of the doors, you arrived at your destination and walked in a steady path forward.

Opulent portraits and vases lining your path all but screamed luxury, though that wasn’t remotely a surprise.

After a brief moment, you made it to the doorway of an office, the contents of it hardly visible in all the darkness flooding in from the large glass panes along its back wall.

“You wanted to see me?” you spoke, trying to exude confidence despite the hammering of your heart.

“Ah, yes. Do come in,” called back a voice, one that had been plaguing you for weeks. As you pressed further into the office, the figure came into view behind a desk. Towering, grinning a crooked grin, folding her gargantuan four arms in front of her chest, there stood the one who demanded your presence - the spider yōkai-organized crime boss herself - Big Mama.

“What do you want?” Your voice was firm, but not insolent.

“Straight to the marrow, no time to throw me a bone,” the arachnid said with an ingenuously hurt tone. You weren’t amused.

“Very well,” Big Mama conceded, continuing to grin at your chagrin, “back to business. I require an itsy-bitsy favor to close up our deal.”

Your breath stopped, the anxiety you felt outside whittling a pit in your stomach once again, your confident façade fading by the second.

Your dread felt well placed after you heard her words.

“Bring me the ingenious invention-a-gizmo you’ve been monitoring so thoroughly these recent weeks.”

It only took a moment to digest her words and formulate a definitive response.

“No.” You cut tersely through the tense atmosphere. “We have a deal, and I am, I have been upholding my end of it. It doesn’t count- It is not fair to change the conditions. Blueprints, pictures, reports - that’s all you’re allowed to ask of me. I never agreed to take anything, so no, I will not be doing that.”

“Oh, dearie me, I hadn’t the slightest idea that you could get so prickly-perturbed. That was cute. Back to business, though-”

“I’m serious. I’m done,” you interjected. “I already did my part, now you need to uphold yours.”

Big Mama lost the crooked grin, the amusement in her eyes morphing into a chilling cold.

“Your little display has lost its appeal, dearie. Your insolence is teetering on the tippity-top of ticking Big Mama off. Yes, we made a deal, and you certainly shall be compensated in full, but the pudding’s in the proof, the danger’s in the details, you signed a binding contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You never explicitly specified that your collecting fizz-a-ma-whizzle did not include bringing Big Mama one of those fantabulous contrapulations. Anything unlisted is grey area, and your contract is swarming in it.”

“This- You can’t-”

“Oh, but I can. And I have. And I will.” The spider regained her composure, her smug demeanor, her wicked grin. “I expect the device delivered pristinely at my doorstep by the end of the week, or I am due compensation of a similar value.”

Big Mama paused, leaned in with a widening grin. “Maybe your indentured servitude, or perhaps the turtle himself will work? Choices, choices.”

You stilled, disconcerting pinpricks prickling up your spine. The implications of what she could and would do hung thickly in the air, and based on the predatory flash in her eyes, she noticed.

“Understand our deal?” the spider yōkai asked, voice sickeningly sweet, smug.

“Yes.”

A few days passed with no progress on your objective. That didn’t mean you stopped thinking about it, though. No, thoughts about your situation and how you’d gotten into played in the back of your mind the entire time.

You had been lying.

Blatantly.

Brazenly.

But not remorselessly.

No, certainly not. The guilt of the past few months of spitting fabrications of the truth had been eating at your insides, whittling a deep, guilty cavity in your gut every time you were confronted by your untruths.

Yes, guilt was definitely the only reason your stomach ached every time you saw Donnie. Nothing else.

It all started when you rented out a car a few years ago to deliver orders for your job for an alluring amount of additional pay.

Sure, you knew having a car in a highly concentrated city was a risky venture, but the payoff, after a year or so, would be worth it.

That is, it would have been worth it if the Krang hadn’t attacked and decimated the city, the economy and, most pertinently, the car.

You were sunk. But, with all the other chaos amidst the invasion, the car quickly fled from your memory. You figured either the city or someone’s insurance or something would cover it.

Until this year when you got a knock on your front door and saw a towering purple mantis man on your porch demanding compensation for the payments missing for the car. With interest, of course.

You went slack-jawed as the repo man-tis(?) revealed the price.

You hadn’t an object that amounted to that value. Heck, your entire net worth could hardly amount to that. Probably didn’t.

You asked for paper verification or the logic behind the price, though the only response you received was a flex of his muscles.

You were fairly certain that this was extortion.

You were also certain that this guy could and would absolutely demolish you.

After you insisted that paying or giving something of equal value was not possible, the mantis, displeased, begrudgingly sent you in the direction of someone he knew who could pay it off in exchange for some sort of deal.

Unfortunately, that help had been yet another violet-themed, insect-adjacent person, and that one was even worse.

You had gone to meet the spider, and as you were practically getting interrogated as she tried to find your worth, April oh so conveniently happened to call to invite you to her birthday.

One fumble of your phone and the call had been answered, leaving you scrambling to turn it off and Big Mama with her eyes wide in recognition.

And suddenly the arachnid had found use for you.

All you had to do was extract information - photos, reports, blueprints from just one project - from one of April’s friends who, as Big Mama explained, also adorned purple attire frequently, and you were free from all the debt from that blasted automobile.

One handshake and signature later, and you had yourself a deal.

Simple enough.

Little did you know that it would lead you to the devastating deadlock between your feelings and your funds. It was meant to be a no feelings involved sort of deal, but there had been some unfortunate complications, namely the bond you’d made with the turtle.

The impending deadline of the deal and the moral dilemma of literally stealing something someone was pouring their time and effort into

End of the week… Did she mean the end of the business week or the calendar week? Either way, it wasn’t best to test the apparent mob boss’ patience.

Whatever you decided to do, you needed to do it quickly.

“Hex key.”

Donnie’s voice pulled you out of your trancelike series of thoughts and back to the present. Sitting in the lab, passing him utensils as needed, alternating listening to songs of his choice and those of yours, it was what had grown to be a typical night.

“Hex key,” you parroted, scanning his desk for the desired tool.

“Hex key - you know, the hexagonal wrench? Anytime now.” His tone bordered concerned and perturbed.

“Patience, ‘Tello. I don’t even know what that is,” you explained and tried to think of what a “hexagonal wrench” would look like.

He paused, thought of trying another name for it. “Allen wrench?” Bingo.

“Oh, yeah, Allen wrench,” you concluded, found it and handed it to him immediately.

“Sigh, common names and the imperial system, how they plague our society,” he tutted as he set to work on the invention with the wrench.

“Scientific names, my Roman Empire,” you agreed in wistful satire. But he agreed genuinely.

“Precisely. I could pull off Apalone spinifera, don’t you think?” He looked up from his tinkering, smirked, quirked a brow.

“I think I prefer Donnie.”

You grinned warmly. The inflection of his brow shifted, relaxed, softened his gaze. Before it turned devious once again. “Cringe.”

You gaped. “Oh, come on. I open up to you, and this is what I get?”

He shook his head.

You wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. “You know that you drop so many worse lines than that all the time.”

“Like what?” he questioned sardonically and turned back to tinkering.

“You know, something like I could whoop Galileo or swooning over Democritus or something.”

“I have never ‘swooned’ over Democritus. This is slander.”

“Oh atoms, my atoms,” you teased in a pedantic tone, making both you and the hypocrite grin.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, Donnie working and you observing, until one of your song choices came on.

“Scoff, may we change the song? This one’s way too slow,” Donnie muttered, not ceasing his methodical cranking of the wrench.

“This is literally webcore. How could that be too slow?” You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t know, just can’t really groove with it, you know?”

It was your turn to scoff. “Oh come on, my music taste is totally danceable. If that’s a real word.”

“Anything can be a word nowadays.”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you slapped a hand on the table, successfully drawing his, albeit judgmental, attention. “It is big talk to accuse my music, my livelihood, of being incapable of stimulating dancing without any evidence to support it.”

“Are you suggesting something?”

“No, I’m demanding something - prove it.”

Donnie blinked, incredulous. “Really?”

You smirked in reply. “Yep.”

“Right now?”

“Mmhm.”

“And how exactly do you propose I do that?” Donnie posed the question as he finally set down his work, propped his chin up with his elbow.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You ask me to dance.”

“Haha, yeah, I do that all the time, the whole dancing with other people thing.” Donnie bluffed terribly, drawing yet another snort from you.

“There’ll be a learning curve for us both, that’s okay,” you conceded with a grin, stood, and offered your hand.

He took it.

The other hand tentatively, shakily placed itself on your hip. It took genuine effort not to laugh at how red he turned. To be fair, you probably did the same.

You felt a light squeeze on your hand, a small nudge at your side, and you were off.

Spinning through the lab, maneuvering around dazzling devices and metal, it was a whirlwind of upbeat melodies and mellow purple lights and him.

His initial shy demeanor quickly turned confident, guiding you through twists and spins, though he always kept a respectable distance between you two. You joined in, your spare hand taking residence on his shoulder as you two whipped around.

His smile, a genuine one, was positively contagious as he twirled you and pulled you back in, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

The song ended with a bang, and you found yourself dipped back, a hand on your waist and one on your lower back holding you up. As you looked into each other’s eyes, neither one of you could resist bursting into a fit of giggles.

Your laughter faded slowly into huffs of air as you caught your breath, though neither of you moved an inch.

You couldn’t definitively say which one of you did it first, but someone’s glance subtly flickered down, uncertain of itself. The other’s did the same.

A lump in your throat suffocated any breath or thoughts before they could make it past your lips.

Well, that escalated quickly.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face.

No, this was wrong.

Not the situation itself, obviously. The moment itself was so fitting and dreamlike and right, but the pretenses it was under were so wrong.

Just shy of contact, what you knew would be incredibly, spuriously honeyed, you retracted.

The spontaneity of your doubt was only rivaled by how quick you both broke apart, the fluttery uncertainty in both of your chest cavities immediately replaced with an all-encompassing anxiety of having messed up exceptionally.

“My apologies. I hadn’t realized you-”

“No. You’re okay,” you cut him off. “I just, uh, can’t right now.”

Idiot. You felt, sounded, were acting like an idiot.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that-”

“No, please don’t apologize. You genuinely didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” you reassured with a hand on your chest.

A beat.

Donnie twiddled his fingers and looked back at you. “...So, if I may ask, what’s the issue?”

Just as soon as you had all aspects of your situation under control, you had to act morally, as if telling the truth now fixed any of the wrongdoings nor the misdeeds nor the corrupt actions you’d already taken. Idiotic was what it was, but also necessary.

So you told him.

The truth poured from your mouth before you could stop it. Everything about your borderline espionage and Big Mama and the financial detriment failure posed - though you skidded around the threats - flowed breathlessly, frantically from you. Eyes firmly locked on the ground, you laid all of your cards down. In all honesty, you autopiloted for the majority of your confession, but jumped back in to conclude.

“I’ll be honest, I was half-convinced that all of the mutant-yōkai-whatever-the-heck situation I’d gotten myself into was fake, but it’s real. All of the debt and spying and- and you guys, everything is real and I didn’t- couldn’t even process it for a while but now I realize that you are also a person, with feelings and- and trust that I haven’t been treating correctly. I’m,” you sucked in a deep yet uncertain breath, “I’m so sorry.”

You finally worked up the nerve to look at him, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer swarm of emotions that had taken over his face.

You had expected his incredulous, irate reactions, his mouth agape and brow furrowed.

But, greatly to your surprise, he was laughing, albeit ryely, but laughing nonetheless.

Donnie planted a hand on his forehead as his pitiful laughter slowed to a sigh. “Of course. I knew it wasn’t feasible to run into one person so many times. The probability, the statistics didn’t add up. But this explains it.”

You stared, trying to gauge his reaction. That part hadn’t been planned at all, but you weren’t looking to argue. “Okay..?”

“And that also explains why you kept hanging around, why you pretended to care about my stupid little project.”

“That’s not-”

“And why you pretended to care about me,” Donnie continued. Your chest ached at how his voice waived, almost broke.

“No matter what I had to- chose to do then, I promise that I never meant to hurt you. And I didn’t pretend to care for you,” you urged.

He sighed. Not his normal way where he actually said the word, just a genuine sigh. “If only I could trust that.” His voice lowered to nothing above a whisper, almost to himself. “Would you have shown any interest in me and my inventions at April’s party - at the library - if you hadn’t been paid to?”

You hesitated, thinking of the honest answer, that yes, even though it started out as an obligation you would have chosen to spend time with him a thousand times over.

But your hesitation was answer enough.

Donnie turned, pinched the bridge of his snout and huffed.

“Wait,” you protested, “that’s not what I meant. Of course I would have-”

“Leave.” He cut you off quietly but sternly. “I can’t talk with you right now.”

You understood, swallowed the rest of your sentence. Without another word, without another glance, you bit your cheek and backed your way out of the lab.

A silent moment passed.

Donnie lifted his head from his hand and blinked away the stinging tears threatening to form in his eyes. His throat burned with so many feelings he hadn’t the words to express, though the main culprits were rage and an inconsolable devastation.

He’d let you get close, something he rarely allowed, and this happened?

He thought that someone finally had interest in his knowledge, in his inventions, in him.

He’d let himself drift into a dream, one packed with genuine enjoyment and whimsy and you.

But that’s the thing about dreams, about painfully dulcet reverie endeavors.

Eventually, you have to wake up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The now familiar path through the sewers to the surface whipped by in a blur. You barely processed emerging from the sewers, eyes glossy and mind in a deep debate with itself.

The wind bit harshly against your nose, ears, arms - you’d abandoned your jacket on the back of your chair in his lab and definitely wouldn’t be getting it back for a while - as you all but sprinted home.

The situation could have been worse, but you still felt terrible. You knew that the lie couldn’t exist in perpetuity, that the truth would eventually reveal itself, but that didn’t mend the relationship you’d built, the trust you’d earned.

You took a sharp turn in the direction of your home.

Oh, he probably hated you. He’d probably tell everyone and they all would despise you. Not that you deserved anything but that.

You turned swiftly into the alleyway leading to your place and a loud whack cut through the air.

You didn’t have time to process the sound nor the weblike substance that vigorously pierced your back before you were eating concrete, head aching and vision failing.

Persnickety whispers of keeping “tibbiting-tabs” on current deals and the deep waters that your insolence had gotten you into pounded faintly against your head, almost drowned out by the dull throb at the base of your skull, the scrape of rough pavement against your face, the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

The pain and panic faded quickly, though, alongside your awareness as you easily slipped into an induced state of unconsciousness.

…………..…………..…………..…………..…………..…………….

(yeah uh this one’s kind of a doozy - at least you finally get the reveal of how I named this fic?)

Taglist ~ @rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

#YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #simp reblogs

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rottmntsimp · 10 days

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Ngl self insert x canon are the most powerful people in existence. Like, you wanted to smooch a character and said “yeah, I’m gonna do that” fucking go off king I love that for you

#simp reblogs

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rottmntsimp · 12 days

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NAME ALL YOUR ADOPTED CHILDREN: GO!

The moment I created my discord server I got on call with two people and they immediately started calling me mother, to which, the rest followed, I have no idea how many kids I have, next question.

Tag yourselves

#ITS HER #MOTHER™#simp reblogs

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rottmntsimp · 13 days

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I LOVE DRAWING HIM

Me? Shamelessly raving about my own AU?? HELL YEAH

Likes kill, remember to reblog <33

Taglist: @lemme-be-cringe-damnit@sleepytime-fics@ray-of-midnight-storm@hamthepan@charismakat@flapajacker

#save rottmnt #rottmnt #tangled au #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #mikey #mikey x reader #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #simp draws

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rottmntsimp · 13 days

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Psst- Sneak peak at my Baby Mikey design so far <3

ADORE HIM, YOUR HONOR

Likes kill, remember to reblog <33

Taglist: @lemme-be-cringe-damnit@sleepytime-fics@ray-of-midnight-storm@hamthepan@charismakat@flapajacker

#tangled au #simp draws #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #save rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #mikey #rottmnt mikey x reader #rise mikey x reader

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rottmntsimp · 13 days

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Tangled!AU Masterpost

-- A/N: This is going to be a drawn fic/comic :] I may alternate between writing and drawing [maybe sprinkle in a bit of both if in the mood] This is a Disney princess AU, inspired by @/chaoticspeedrun 's many fics <3 --

➡ Start here [Not posted...yet-]

Miscellaneous doodles:

Mikey designs number uno and dos <3

Baby Mikey sketch :D

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #save rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #mikey #mikey x reader #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #tangled au #masterpost #simps fics

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rottmntsimp · 13 days

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Hey! Love your writing! if reqs are open, would you be willing to write rottmnt Casey Jr x reader? Maybe something fully and/or cozy, like them having a lazy night or doing some housework or something? There’s such a drought of CJ content :c

Leisurely Love [Domestic Headcanons]

Pairing[s]: Casey Junior x Reader A/N: Finally posting after months of writer's block!! 💪 Anyway, sorry the order's a bit scattered 😅

Casey Junior

💖 - GAH I LOVE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS OK

💖 - Starting off with the kitchen <33

💖 - I've said this before in one of my earlier headcanons, but CJ does not understand the concept of good food. To him edible = food, regardless of taste or texture. "What do you mean it's burnt? It's still food!"

💖 - If you like cooking, you're in luck! He'll gladly be your personal taste tester!!

💖 - And with enough effort, care and love, my boy will be cooking you a small meal in no time!!

💖 - He definitely has a habit of hoarding things he likes

💖 - Back in the apocalypse, keeping things was a risk on its own, especially when you never know when you're gonna have to move.

💖 - But now that he's safe, my boy will keep anything and everything. You guys will probably have a drawer or two dedicated to things that remind of him of his family from back in the apocalypse, you, or just something really pretty :]

💖 - Baby boy loves gardening! Or at least getting to watch the plants grow :]

💖 - He doesn't exactly trust himself to care for them, seeing as the last few he tried to keep withered within a week.

💖 - But if you're into gardening or keep a pet plant, he'll gladly let you keep some around the house!! Hell, he might even help with planting some outside if you really wanted.

💖 - Animals, oh boy...

💖 - Personally, if not for the apocalypse, I feel like CJ would've LOVED dogs-

💖 - But due to his experience with the Kraang, some of them shaped like animals...best to say it'll take some time for him to warm up to them.

💖 - My boy has warm hands. How do I know? I just do.

💖 - If you have cold hands, believe me when I say he is never letting go.

💖 - He's not much of a cuddler, or so he claims. There's an underlying fear in his head that he might accidentally kick you or push you away in his sleep, so he chooses to instead just fall asleep facing you. It comforts him to wake up to the sight of you, messy or not.

💖 - Daily reminders that his life is not constantly at stake? Yes please.

💖 - Favorite place to kiss you? Your forehead <3 [We love a gentleman 😌]

💖 - If you're terrified of bugs, fear not!

💖 - Casey will kill them in the blink of an eye, maybe even pick them up and leave them outside if you ask.

💖 - When it comes to cleaning, he doesn't like to throw things out, as I said earlier.

💖 - He's the kind of guy to organize the mess instead of actually cleaning up. "Messy? But I know where everything is!"

💖 - When he discovers music, it's like his eyes had just opened for the first time. Help him go through this journey please.

💖 - Introduce him to your favorite artists, help him find his type.

💖 - Eventually, this will become "your" thing.

💖 - He will run over to you, excitedly rambling on about this new song he'd just listened to, before making you listen to it too, saying how "-you've got to listen to this!"

💖 - Lazy days consist of introducing him to modern culture!!

💖 - I'm talking memes, shows, films, games, everything- Hell, consider it a sleepover at this point, because my boy is willing to give anything a try. Show him the wonders of the modern world ♥

💖 - Now if we're talking about the FAR future? I'm sorry, but he does NOT want kids, adopted or not.

💖 - He saw how much of a handful they could be, back in the resistance, and he'd be dead by the time he admitted wanting that.

💖 - If it's any consolation, he might become more open to the whole pet situation.

💖 - Regardless, indulge in the poor boy's hobbies and interests please. Give him some love and you're bound to get some back <3

💖 - Anyway, 11/10 roomie/partner ♥♥

Taglist: @lemme-be-cringe-damnit@sleepytime-fics@ray-of-midnight-storm@hamthepan@charismakat@flapajacker

#simps fics #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #casey junior x reader #rise casey jr #casey junior #cj x reader #rottmnt casey x reader #save rottmnt #casey x reader #rise casey x reader #rise of the tmnt

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