#I won't tag Splinter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euoniatz · 19 days

Note

Can I request leon finding a survivor in racoon city and protecting them? ( I've never played re2 so sorry if this would never happen in the game)

sure you can!🤗 i wasn't sure if you wanted slash or not so i went somewhere in the middle, hope that's okay 💕 enjoy!

☆ leon s kennedy x reader

tags: hurt/comfort, blood and injury, protective leon, gn!reader

wordcount: 2105

"thirty-three..." you count silently, hugging your knees to your chest as you shut your eyes even tighter.

you take a deep breath, hold it, and let it go. relax, a voice tells you in your mind.

there's another loud bang on the door. you try to be quiet, but your limbs flinch involuntarily and a cry slips past the hand on your mouth regardless.

"thirty-four..." you whisper into your palm, tasting the saltiness of your tears on the skin.

you're so tense it hurts, legs uncomfortably angled to fit under the same desk you've had since you were a kid and neck curled to do the same.

breathe, that voice says again, and you let go of the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

the door creaks under the weight of another thud, and you inhale sharply, instantly regretting doing so as your nose fills with the sharp stench of blood.

you let another whimper slip, inching further beneath the desk as the scratching starts back up again. it never ends, really, but in times like these it reminds you that the wooden door separating you and them won't hold forever.

you are going to die in here, you think and glance at the window, or you are going to die out there.

"thirty..." shit, where were you?

outside, the rain is pouring, slamming against the thin glass of the windowpanes as if dedicated to give you even more problems.

you're grateful your flat is on the third floor, then is instantly struck with guilt again, remembering your neighbors downstairs and the plants you used to water for them.

maybe they- your mind starts, and for the nth time you have to remind yourself: no, they didn't get out safely, no one did, you're the last person alive in racoon city - you're alone.

of course, you can't be sure of that last part, but you can't imagine anyone who's still breathing would be stupid enough to stay.

one of them starts growling into the crack in the door again, and you're reminded of where you are - curled up in the bedroom you only moved into a week ago and hiding because zombies are real and the undead version of your landlords are trying to eat your brain.

you shut your eyes with a sigh, cursing your thoughts for being so entirely unhelpful.

"one..." you start over, wondering if you'll even get to thirty this time.

except, before you can even get to two there's a loud noise. not the kind of dull thuds you've gotten used to, but something else.

a gunshot.

at first you think you're imagining things, or maybe you misheard. but then there it is again - a series of deafening pangs just below your window.

your heart races as you sit perfectly still, listening intently for any other sound as the shots go silent. a loud creak follows, old and rusted and terrifyingly familiar.

your stomach drops - you know exactly what's making that noise, remembering how the landlord showed you how the fire escape works and how the metal groaned under his weight.

something got up there, you think, panic climbing in your throat.

heavy thuds join the familiar one on the door, except they come from outside your window. this time, as the voice in your head tells you to breathe, you can't. it's as if the air has glued itself to the inside of your lungs, and you hold it there as your body aches with tension.

the snarling outside the door intensifies, and just as you recognize the heart-wrenching sound of the door panels splintering apart. quickly joining the cacophony of terror, however, is the noise of the window shattering.

you can't move, can't breathe-

BANG!

ears ringing, your mouth opens in what is only to you a soundless scream. you watch through tears as a dark smear in your vison slashes at your landlord. the man drops in front of the desk, and you flinch as something dark and wet sprays all over you.

panic muddles your mind. you thought you were prepared to die - you were wrong. it's scary and it's horrible and you hate it-

a hand touches your knee.

your eyes fly open as your leg kicks out instinctively. you watch, dazed, as a man, bloody and blond and alive, grimaces and stumbles back, cradling his stomach.

he raises his hands, maybe hoping to calm you.

it's in vain, your head is spinning and you only now recognize the sticky liquid on your skin as blood and your lungs ache as you belatedly realize you're still screaming.

the man's posture relaxes considerably once you shut your mouth and you blink, eyes flitting around your room as you struggle to process the state it's in.

you look at the bed, thinking about the old quilt at the foot of it that your dad made you when you were little. a limp body is draped over it, and you watch, horrified, as crimson red begins to pool on the floor.

the body wears a sun washed nirvana t-shirt, and you remember seeing it on the old man a floor above you before.

oh god, you think, breathing picking up again. they're dead. they're all dead-

"-y, hey, look at me," a voice startles you as the ringing in your ears subside and you catch the tail end of his words. you look over at the man, trying and failing not to look at the gore on his knife.

"okay, you're okay," he tells you, and when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find sincerity there. he could still kill you, that voice from before pipes up, no longer comforting.

as if noticing the clarity slowly returning to you, the man nods and stands up, heading towards the door. panic strikes you suddenly and you shoot to your feet, bumping your head on the desk as the idea of being left alone here makes you tremble.

"wait!" you exclaim, surprised at the sound of your own voice so ragged and breathless. the man turns, eyes wide as he quickly gestures for you to calm down.

"hey, look, i'm just going to check the hallway," he says carefully while pointing to the broken door. "i'll be right back, okay? just stay here, ."

he waits for your shaky nod before leaving. you'd almost be grateful for the time alone to collect yourself, except you're not alone, and the two corpses in your bedroom aren't going anywhere. or at least you hope they're not.

so, standing in the centre of the bedroom you moved into a week ago, next to your dead landlord and neighbor, you hug yourself tightly and walk over the corner furthest from the door.

unfortunately it's the same corner where the window is, and you make a half-hearted effort to avoid stepping on any glass.

you flinch as another gunshot echoes from the floor above, letting a few more tears fall even as you try to calm yourself down. you knew things must be terrible, but your vivid imagination is somehow still not as bad as seeing it for yourself.

you can hear growling coming form the alley below your apartment, and instinctively glance out the window - meeting the dead eyes of a dozen walking corpses milling under the raised fire escape.

gasping sharply, you stumble away from the scene, panic increasing as your back collides with a hard surface.

"easy," the man from before says and grips your arms from behind. slowly he turns you to face him. "don't look."

you nod, somehow unbothered by his hands on your wrists as his eyes, sparkling with concern, scans your face. maybe you should be embarrassed of your cheeks blotchy with tears and puffy from how you've been rubbing your face clear of them for hours.

"i'm leon," the man introduces himself. you're grateful to put a name to the face, especially if this is the last time you see him.

you give him yours in turn, and he smiles, tells you it's a good name as his hand moves to your back and he moves you towards the door.

the hallway is in worse shape than your room, and you avert your eyes before more of the splattered blood imprint themselves on your retinas. even though this is technically still your house, you let leon guide you through it until you're sat at the kitchen table, watching him crush some herbs on a paper towel.

"i just moved here a week ago," you find yourself saying, trying not to cry again as you think about the safety of home; cursing yourself for ever leaving.

leon looks up from his plants, smiling sympathetically. "yesterday was my first day on the job."

tomorrow would've been yours. you'd been excited for your new job, but now you don't even want to imagine staying here if you even survive. you huff bitterly. "lucky us, huh?"

he laughs. "definitely."

apparently deeming his work complete, leon hands you the herbs after grabbing a handful for himself. you watch, a little stunned, as leon shoves it in his mouth and begins exaggeratedly chewing.

he gestures for you to do the same, and you hesitantly bring a bit to your dry lips, absently wondering if you're about to be poisoned.

fuck it. you throw the whole thing in your mouth, immediately wincing at the bitter taste but chewing the best you can. leon watches you intently, but doesn't comment.

"that'll make you feel better," he says and begins digging through a pouch on his hip. it takes a second, but he eventually finds what he's looking for - pulling out another knife.

you're already halfway to your feet by the time he's set it down on the table, looking at him fearfully. "please, i-"

leon looks between you and the knife, and his eyes widen. "oh, no- hey, i'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" he says carefully, showing you his hands, "it's for you, so you can protect yourself, it doesn't matter if you're not trained, it's better than nothing."

you're heart sinks at the confirmation of being left behind, that you'll have to fend for yourself from here on out. "oh," you say sitting back at the table, "okay, thank you."

leon smiles and goes back to checking through his various packs and pockets. "is there anything you need?" he asks. "you live here, right? maybe some other clothes or important medicine? i could get it for you, if you'd like."

his care only makes the idea of losing him worse. you shake your head, knowing you're being childish still. he's a survivor, he could give you tips if you weren't so busy pouting.

"we can probably find some later, don't worry," leon says and starts shamelessly raiding your cabinets. he pulls out the pack of wafers you bought the other day and stuffs it in a backpack you belatedly realize is your own.

maybe you should feel more scandalized by the daylight robbery, but you don't. you don't feel much at all, really.

leon disappears for a second long enough for you to worry but not outright spiral, since he left yours-now-his backpack on the table. when he returns, it's with one of your favorite hoodies in hand, along with a pair of trainers and some bandages from your bathroom.

he stuffs the bandages and the shoes in the bag, barely even batting an eye as he steps up in front of you and pulls the hoodies over your head. he gets some tape from god-knows-where and tapes several layers of it around your forearms and calves before you even have time to blink.

stunned you gape as he hands you the now full backpack and stands in the door, as if waiting for something.

"look," leon says after he realizes you aren't moving, "i know this is your home and all but we really gotta go..."

you furrow your brows, confused by the fact that he's even still here. "we?"

leon frowns and steps towards you. "yeah, we. what- i'm not just gonna leave you here."

"oh."

"come on." you startle at the sudden feel of a hand on yours, but quickly close your fingers around his, holding on tight. "it's time to go."

you nod, sticking close to leon as he guides you through the apartment complex and starts to show you the world, in all it's terrifying glory, again. it's scary and messy and half the time ou think you're going to die but at least you're not alone.

breathe, a voice says, familiar and supportive again. this time, you listen.

psst- my writing asks are still open, go check it out if you have a request ;)

#leon kennedy #my writing #leon resident evil #resident evil #re2 leon #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy x reader #x reader #gn reader #writing requests #leon s kennedy

156 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 2 months

Text

Stem the Tide

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, CW vomit mention.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

There's water in your lungs.

Hobie's injuries scream at him to stop swimming, but he doesn't, not until he swims you to safety. He has you placed on a piece of the revenge, a shattered part of it, all splintered wood and sharp edges that dig into his skin.

The storm has subsided, the sea monsters went back into the water, the thought should ease him but he'd rather have the beasts within eyesight if possible. The sky is still dark and blue, the sun is just about waking up to the carnage floating on the depths.

His other half is paddling away from the trenches where the creatures could lie in wait. Eyes gradually searching for his crew but his main priority is you. You who haven't opened your eyes, you who haven't breathed nor moved. He worries, grief calling for him once again.

The fear of losing you is the only thing keeping him moving.

His arms ache as he tries to restart your heart. Pounding and pushing into your chest, doing his best not to crack any of your ribs. Chapped lips breathing life into you, inflating your lungs, chest heaving up but you don't expel the water. He ignores the freezing water; it's almost as cold as your skin, still it burns him with every touch he gives you.

You haven't breathed on your own for a long while.

He curses himself, wishes that he got to you faster but with all the jaws coming towards him he had to dodge in the water and with all the strong currents he let you drown. Fuck, why wasn't I fast enough? He thinks, guilt chewing him.

“C’mon, Scuttlebutt. Fuckin' breathe.”

Hobie sees land ahead so he paddles faster.

He sucks in air, then blows into your icy mouth. Pumping and pushing, his muscles are threatening to give out.

“Not you,” tears brimming in his eyes, the sun peeks in the horizon, illuminating your lifeless face. “Please, not you too.”

A large wave almost sweeps the two of you off the raft, he protects you with his own battered body. The wave helped, the makeshift raft beaching on the sandy shores of the unknown island.

He pounds his palms continuously on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. The sound echoes in his ears like death knells.

Nothing.

Your lips are turning an unnatural shade. He doesn't focus on it, instead Hobie leans in, breathing into you once again, moving his head down, he listens intently for a sign of your heart beating.

He can't even hear a faint beating.

“Fuck!” He continues the cycle, palms compressing on your chest, mouth giving you air straight from within him. “Open your goddamn eyes!”

Hobie yells your name, full of anguish and denial. He won't give up because if it was you in his shoes, you wouldn't have.

His sobs wracked his body, yet he does it again and again and again. He can't even look at your face anymore because if he fails, he doesn't want to remember your lifeless face, instead he'd want to remember you smiling, smiling at his crew, smiling at whatever joke Pav said, smiling at him.

He'll do anything to see it again. The crew can't lose you.

He can't lose you,

“No!” In his desperation, he hammers his fist harshly on your chest.

Nothing.

He does it again. Thrashing and drumming.

Nothing.

Hobie closes his eyes, leaning down to breathe life into you one last time. He's tired, too tired to continue. Lips lingering on yours, he holds onto you tight, refusing to let go.

You wake up to lips pressing on yours and salty water rising quickly from your lungs.

Gasping and coughing, you feel calloused fingers push your body to the side as you vomit out all the water. Eyes stinging, hands digging into the sand.

You hear relieved laughter behind you, hand gripping to your shoulder, the other rubbing gently on your back.

Spitting the last salty water out of your body, you fall back on the wooden raft, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Hobie greets you with a tired smile, fatigued yet he still finds it in himself to grin from ear to ear.

The sun blankets behind him, bathing him in its light, piercings shining, and like fate's practical joke, there's a halo behind his head.

“Please don't tell me we both died and now we both ended up in the same place.” You joke with a hoarse voice. Tongue still tasting salt. “I can barely handle you while alive and now I have to be with you even in death?”

He laughs, the sound louder than the waves on the shore. “That's the first thing you say after almost dying? Miles is right, you use humour as a crutch.” with a shaking hand, he cups your cheek, laying his forehead against your own, resisting the urge to lay his head above your chest to listen to your heartbeat, just to make sure he isn't hallucinating.

You exhale against his face, breath fanning his eyelashes, it's enough proof that death has decided to give him reprieve.

“We're not dead?” You close your eyes, savoring his presence. Hands clasped around his wrist, feeling for his pulse.

He's not dead.

“No,” he leans away, relief under his sigh. “We're alive.”

You chuckle, ghosting your thumb across the gashes on his cheek. “You did good.”

Hobie shakes his head with a smile, rolling on his back, he falls on the sand softly, arms spread out. The once white sand turns into a shade of pink under him, reminding you of his injuries.

“I did good.” Eyes closed, hand reaching towards your side, he grasps your blouse in his palm like you'd fade away if he lets go of you for even a second. The cloth is warm on his skin, realizing that you're injured.

Your cough and groan was enough to ignite his adrenaline once again.

With a hand, you stop him from moving frantically. You inhale a sharp breath, “We need a fire going.” Sitting up on your own, shivering from the cold. He observes with his hands hovering over you.

“Alright, just stay here, I'll light it.”

“No, let me help.” Your wheezing says otherwise.

Hobie grasps your chin, lifting it to face him. Your skin is on fire, he smiles at life coming back to your body. “You drowned,” he doesn't want to say the other word or it might come true. “I think that trumps over a couple of stab wounds.”

“A couple?!” You blink in surprise. “Hobie—”

“Just a few slashes. Stay here, don't cause trouble, trouble. Captain's orders.”

“You're so fucking annoying.” You flop down on the raft, gripping your weeping wound, teeth chattering.

“You could say ‘thank you’ for once.” he teases in an attempt to bring back normalcy. Staring at your sand crusted hair, seafoam draped around you, he's glad he didn't give up in saving you just for him to get a glimpse of this view.

You stare at him through wet lashes, a small pout on your warming lips. “I'm losing blood, captain.”

The simple sentence gets him to clamp up, face suddenly serious.

“Bring me a coconut!” You yell, pout replaced with a small smile. You hide your wincing with a bite of your lip, drawing blood. Looking at him upside down, he has his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“You're insufferable.” He quotes you before immediately jogging over towards the tropical forest behind you.

“And I, you.” You whisper into nothingness, touching your lips with the pads of your fingers.

—

The fire cackles next to you, the flames dance in your vision just like the fire that devoured the revenge. Smoke fills your lungs again, you cover your nose with your arm, eyes closed, trying to forget what happened. What you did.

Hobie holds a circular pendant tied to a stick, the metal glows red hot, the engraving of a wave twirls as he moves it closer to you.

You clutch the back of your head, it still stings when you press down, at least you're not freezing and wet anymore thanks to the fire next to you.

“How do I do this?” He asks, eyes flicking to your pained face.

“Just place the metal on top of my wound for a few seconds then take it off immediately. I don't want a piece of metal in me.” Your voice is muffled by your arm.

“Show me.”

Lifting up your blouse, you hiss, fabric sticking to the angry wound, revealing where the bullet pierced you. “He nicked me so there's no bullet to take out.”

“Less work for us then. Ready?”

“Yes, just use the plain side. I don't want it to leave a mark.”

“Bad news, scuttlebutt. It'll leave a mark.”

“Not what I meant. The wave, I don't want it to leave a shape.”

“I know.” Without warning, he places the bare side of the pendant on your wound. Skin sizzling, you bite into your arm, yells tamped down. Other hand gripping into his elbow. It's an unimaginable pain, you can't believe Hobie survived through two of these.

He flings it away, careful not to add to your pain. “You alright?”

You heave, a tear escaping from your eye. “I guess I deserved that.” Looking at him through half lidded eyes, he gives you a weak smile.

“You would've flinched.”

“You're right, I would've flinched. At least I'm honest about it.” You let the air kiss your searing skin. Letting your head fall on the tree trunk behind you, He watches you like you're already dead. “It was a joke, Hobie—”

“What happened to you? Below deck?” He shakes his head, glaring at your neck. You instinctively hide it under your hand, it's still tender to the touch.

“Had a run in with a very bad man. I got him though…” you nudge him with your foot. “I'm—” you can't find the right words. “I'm sorry about the ship, I had to defend myself, I didn't know the fire would—”

“The ship was already gone the moment Mathias found us.” Those grey eyes look at you intensely, remnants of the storm still leave traces behind them. “Don't apologize, you got him, that's all that matters.”

“I burned him alive, Hobie.” You blurt it out, confessing your sins. “I shot a man. I–I don't…It matters that I did that.”

He sits closer, leaving the searing metal next to him on the fire. Holding your knee, he tentatively touches your hand before he reaches for it fully. Skin meeting skin, hand holding yours, the same grey eyes soften for you.

“Let it matter then. But don't let it in, don't let them try to kill you a second time. Bury their bodies if you have to but don't mourn them.”

“Can we do that? Bury them? Not metaphorically, even without the bodies.”

“Yes, if you want to. I'll help you dig.”

You nod, gliding your thumb along the ridges of his hand. After a beat, you swallow a lump in your dry throat. “I can still hear his screams.” avoiding his eyes, you look down at the grains of sand, your tears leave patches of darker soil in its wake.

Hobie squeezes your hand. “I'll quiet it down for you.”

“How?” you look at him, eyes questioning, eyes weeping.

“I'll talk over it, make you listen to something else other than the screaming.”

You give him a tight lipped smile, forced, tears threatening to fall. You can't ignore their faces anymore. “Finn, Ned and—”

“We'll bury them too, and we'll mourn them. They deserve that much.”

“They deserve more, Hobie. Much more.” he pulls you in, seeking comfort from each other. Arms enveloping you. You let him take you in, his scent replacing the smoke clinging to your lungs.

“They do,” Mindful of each other's injuries, you lay your head on his uninjured shoulder, face buried on the crook of his neck. He does the same, nose kissing your skin. “they deserve better.”

He finds that his arms are molded to fit you.

“The others? Do you know they're alright?”

“I saw them escape, that's all I know.” You lean away, looking at him with worry. “We'll find them, but knowing Gwen they'll find us first, yeah?” he cups your jaw. “We'll get out of here, I promise.”

“I'll hold you to that.” You nod, leaving his warmth, back landing on the wood, letting yourself fall back to your old ways.

Hobie still has his hands shaped to fit you. “We have to survive first.” He taps your shoe. “Do mine next.” He lifts up his shirt, showing you all the angry gashes like a prized trophy. “Then our scars will truly match.”

—

Shoes discarded on the sand, you wade through the seafoam with Hobie. The sun glares, puffy clouds shielding you from the heat. A breeze passes by, seagulls squawk above.

“We could eat those.” He pipes up, kicking something under the sand.

“The sand?”

“The birds, thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Leaning down, he grabs something red buried in the sand. “Help me with this.”

You stretch your shoulders, careful of your own injuries. Copying his stance, you both pull. “How do we even catch one?”

“Pistol, a spear or a trap.” He does all the work of pulling while you're still aching. His injuries still hurt but he'd rather do all the work than let you strain yourself. “Trust me, after eating fish for three days straight, you'd beg for something else to eat.”

“You think we'll be stuck here for three days?” you tug in sync, pulling it with all your strength.

“Maybe more—” he scoffs, finally hauling the fabric out. “It's our sail. Bloody hilarious.” the crimson lay half buried in the sand, tattered.

Ned would hate seeing it like this.

You trace the stitching around the edges, remembering how his expert hands once weaved around it.

“Oi” he brushes his knuckles on your hand to get your attention. You feel his broken skin briefly. “We could use this as our roof.”

“Mm-hmm, you do that and I'll continue searching around the shore. Maybe my satchel got washed up too” you let go of the cloth, already walking away.

“Nah, I'll come with.” He bunches up the sail in his arms, drowning his entire body in red.

Crimson like the eyes of the beast.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile. “We can't stay together the entire time we're here. We'd drive each other crazy.”

Hobie catches up to you, wide strides and long legs sauntering over to your side. “Good thing I'm already bonkers.” he passes by you, looking over his shoulders to see your wide eyes looking at him. “Hurry up before the sun sets.”

You shake your head, jogging to walk by his side. “I bet in three days we'd start killing each other.”

He snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

After a minute of walking along the beach, you find a washed up crate. Hobie opens it with the butt of his gun, punching a hole straight through. You pray that it's medical supplies or at least food.

He laughs, clutching his side, leaning on the box. Beckoning your confused self, he drapes his arm around your shoulder, showing you the contents.

You blink confused at the brown bricks. “Is this tea?”

He continues to chuckle like he heard an inside joke that you're not privy to. Taking one in his hand, he weighs it, surprised that it wasn't damaged by the sea water, he thanks whoever packed it well.

Opening the packaging, he brings it close to your nose. “Here.”

You flinch back, burnt skin tugging on your side. “What the hell! I'm not smelling that!”

He laughs louder, you wonder if his injuries ache too. “Just smell it and tell me what you think it is.”

“No! What if it's solid shit?”

“It's not! Solid shit? Really?” His broken lips hurt as he smiles wider. “Do you not trust me?”

You suck in your teeth, “fine, if this is shit I'm drowning myself.” With apprehension, you lean forward to sniff. “Is that?” You sniff again, this time with a laugh. “Holy shit!”

“It's bloody chocolate.” You grab his hand, smelling the sweet treat. “Guess you got your wish. An entire crate of ‘em too.”

“I can't fucking believe that it hasn't melted yet!” He hands you the entire bar and you grin. You both guessed that one of the navy ships was carrying it. “We only need a crate full of alcohol and we're good.”

Hobie clasps your arm, “We can stay here forever if we do find one.”

“Fuck off.” You say in between laughs. “I'm not staying here forever—” your smile falters, fear enters your body.

“What?” He turns around, following your line of sight.

A body, there's a body washed up on the shore. It's draped in a blue uniform and seaweed, seagulls land near it, tentatively pecking.

“Stay here.” He murmurs, draping the sail on top of the crate. You grasp his hand before he leaves your side. “Y/N, stay here.”

“No, what if he's still alive?” you hold on to him tighter.

He nods, eyes roaming your tensed face, your shoulders are straight, eyes staying on the body. “Alright, but walk behind me, yeah?”

You nod.

With every step, your fear encapsulates you further down to your feet, the warmth on your soles keeps you alert. Yet, your hand stays on the cold hilt of your dagger.

Hobie kicks the corpse, it stays unmoving. A group of crabs start to scavenge the body, pinching and taking skin.

“He's dead. No need to worry.” He looks at you over his shoulder, glancing at your tight grip on the dagger.

“What if we're not the only ones here?” your breath shudders at the thought.

“I'll sweep the island—”

“We'll sweep the island.”

He doesn't protest, knowing you won't take no for an answer. “Fine, just—” grabbing your hands, he fixes your hold on the dagger, guiding your fingers around the hilt. You freeze on the spot. “There, better.” He tugs at the weapon, it doesn't budge in your hold. “Now they can't take it from you. Don't let them take it away from you.”

“I won't, I promise.”

—

The island is small, smaller than you thought it would be. Green foliage and tropical trees cover half of the island. Dry leaves crunch under your foot, critters slither and chatter under the tall grass, making you conscious of where you land your feet. The rays of the sun peek behind the tree tops. Exotic sounding birds sing above the branches, their rainbow feathers fly overhead, leaving a breeze to flutter against your cheeks.

You almost run into Hobie when he stops abruptly. He whistles out, reaching blindly behind him to grasp your hand.

“Come on.”

Surprisingly enough, you don't let go, locking your fingers around his, letting the warmth course through your skin.

You hear rushing water.

“We're fuckin' lucky.” He pauses, watching you peek from behind to see what's in front.

You're in awe at the small waterfall, misty water cascading like unfurled silk; it splashes cool water down into a plunge pool. Before you know it, Hobie's stripping down to his knickers.

“Woah! A bit of a warning!” You cover your eyes quickly.

He hoots before you hear a loud splash.

Hobie calls your name, you can hear his smile from how he utters it.

“It's fresh water! We can drink this!” He yells over the sound of the waterfall.

“I'm not drinking your bath water!” You still avoid him, glancing all over the place except for where he swims.

“The water isn't stagnant! It's clean! Come over here!”

“No!”

“I'm not fuckin' naked, Y/N! Just fuckin' come here.”

With a stomp of your foot and a click of your tongue, you glance at him, avoiding staring at his bottom half.

“Someone else could still be here, Hobie and you're relaxing!”

“No one's here, trust me. We've swept the entire place, there's no one here. Jus’ us” He floats and you immediately look away. Laughing, he lets the water wash over him.

“Well I'm glad you're having fun!” You say sarcastically. “But I'll walk around so you don't get stabbed in the water.”

“I can finally teach you how to swim! Get in!” He teases, knowing you won't actually swim with him while he's practically in his birthday suit.

“Nope!” You walk away but still staying close to him. “Maybe when you're not naked I'll reconsider!”

“Suit yourself! Wait!” You pause, “Stay close, yeah?”

Nodding, you wave with the dagger.

You walk around the area, avoiding colorful flowers that you're too afraid to touch. Hands grazing the top of the tall grass, you gasp when a familiar plant catches your sight.

“What?!” You hear Hobie shout, “you alright?!”

“I'm fine!” You yell back. “Keep floating like a turd!”

He laughs, a second later you hear splashing.

—

You sit on the banks of the pool, tired muscles sagging into the dirt, your pockets are full of medicinal herbs. You're just glad you found the right plants that can help to stave off infection. If only you had a mortar and pestle then it'll help with digesting the bitterness better.

Drawing swirling patterns on the dirt with your dagger, you don't look at him, only flicking your eyes to see if he hasn't drowned from napping in the water. He floats aimlessly, skin glistening under the sun, toned chest and scars in full display. You huff, moving your eyes away from his body. Yet your mind wonders where he got them, it's better to think about it than letting your mind wander back to what happened on the revenge and your almost death.

The slight sting of your injuries helps keep you awake at least.

“You hungry?” You almost jump when he suddenly appears on the edge of the pool, arms tucked under his chin, grey eyes looking expectantly at you.

“A little. You?”

“Starving. We're gonna need to make a shelter soon.” Hobie twists in place, head resting on the ground, face staring up at the afternoon sky.

You scooch closer, he smiles when your upside down face fills his vision. “Do you know where we are?”

“No, I'm guessing we're in one of the thousand islands. We were near it when we—Just be glad that we didn't land on a cannibal island.”

“There's no such thing.” He reaches up, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Right?” you almost lean into his touch.

“We got attacked by a bloody sea monster, ‘m sure there's an island somewhere with cannibals.”

“True.” You shrug, trying not to remember what the beasts look like or even sound like. “Did you piss your pants too when they came up from the water?” Teasing, you fall into relaxation with him.

“No, I shat myself.” You laugh loudly. Hobie thinks he has the best seat in the house. “Can't fuckin' believe they're real.” He can't believe you're real.

“Still feels like a dream. Someone has to know those things exist.” The sun illuminates the side of your face, lighting up your features. He can't help but reach up again with the same excuse to wipe your face. “Thanks, I'm sweating a lot.”

“Really? I haven't noticed.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe if you take a dip then—”

“Nope.” To his dismay, you move away from his view. “Come on, fishman, we need to get started on shelter.”

“I just said that.” He stands up, groaning along the way, you look away. “and really? Fishman? That the best you can do, stinky?”

“Stinky?” You cross your arms on your chest, hearing clothes shuffle behind you. “What are you five?”

“Could say the same thing to you,” his face suddenly appears on your shoulder. You yelp, groaning comically, briskly walking away in annoyance. “Wrong way, scuttlebutt.”

You turn heel, trudging in a different direction while he chuckles.

—

Standing in knee deep sea water, the sun beaming down, soft sand under your toes and your stomach growling to be fed, you stand near Hobie whose trousers are folded up to his knees. The water laps at your legs, warm enough to be comfortable but cool enough to keep you in the water. Tiny fish weave around your legs, their fins brushing your skin.

“There!” you point too fast that you pull a muscle but you pay it no mind when Hobie misses the fish again with his makeshift spear.

“Fuck!” The spear is sticking out of the sand, Hobie who is equally starving kicks the water, it splashes all over your blouse.

Great, you're hungry and wet.

You huff loudly, frustrated like the man next to you. “I'm hungry.”

“I know.” He says flatly. Taking out the spear, he aims again.

The fish wiggle in the water like it's mocking Hobie.

“Maybe we can survive eating chocolates and coconut for the rest of our days?” You wipe the sweat off the back of your neck. “Or I can start catching some crabs.”

“Fuck this!” He yells, drawing his gun, he shoots at the fish, the bullet hits the water like a tiny cannonball, splashing you again.

It's a bullseye.

You scream when he grabs the still bleeding fish. Hobie smiles wildly, yelling triumphantly.

You both jump up and down in the water giddily.

—

The fire roars in front of you, your dinner needs some seasoning but it's better than sleeping hungry with only chocolate to fill your stomach. Times like this you miss Finn's cooking, and him.

Hobie looks at you through the fire, he's thinking of the same thing. Wishing that he wasn't.

“What kind of fish is this?” you break the quiet to stop your thoughts.

“The edible kind.”

“You have no idea do you?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you scoff.

“Fuck if I know.” Hobie shrugs, scrunching his nose.

“You're a pirate.” You stop chewing.

“Yes and? I'm not a bloody fisherman.”

“I thought you'd know, because you're in the sea most of the time.”

“Fishing was James’ job not mine.”

“Kinda wishing James was here then.” You murmur but he still hears.

“Give me your bloody fish, you ungrateful bastard.” he reaches towards you and in turn you pull your fish away from him.

“No!” he chuckles at your reaction, shaking his head before silence drapes over the peace you've both created.

You keep munching on the plain mystery fish. Hobie was kind enough to catch (shoot) another fish so you don't have to share one. It's flaky in your hands, now you smell like sweat, blood and fish. The greatest smell combination in the world.

You chew, “I need new clothes.” and a bath but you'll never admit it to Hobie.

“That bloke has some,” he points with his chin at the dead body, laying further at the beach.

“Ew, I'd rather stay in these.” You grimace, looking down at the tattered and singed cloth that's holding on to its last leg.

“I don't mind that, I can actually see your elbows from here.” he smirks, trying to look flirty but with him chomping on a fish head it ended up looking more hilarious than cute.

“My elbows? Oh you pervert.” Yet there's heat behind your cheeks even when his own cheek is covered in fish scales. “Should we bury him?” you change the subject.

“We should or it'll stink,” he flicks his grey eyes at you, the simple act wakes up the butterflies in your stomach, or maybe that's the fish. “like you.”

“I don't stink” a lie of course.

Hobie laughs into his half eaten fish. “I can smell you from here.”

“No you don't, that's the fish!”

“What's the difference?”

You flick a fin at him, it hits him on his head, sticking to his hair. Laughing, you take another bite, something hard almost breaks your tooth. You stop giggling, spitting out a round metallic thing.

Realization hits you, Hobie peeks at your hand,

His sudden loud guffaw makes you throw the bullet at him. He dodges it, still laughing hard and with a fish fin stuck to his hair.

“This is why fishermen don't shoot at fish!” You end up cackling too, finding his laughter contagious. “I almost bit into it!”

He guffaws louder, hiding his face and you get a full view of the fin on his hair. You shake your head, standing up to sit next to his shaking form.

“Stop moving! Let me get that thing off.” You grab it, throwing it into the fire.

His laughter subsides, staring at you with those stormy eyes. He sniffs, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to say something that could hurt or for him to say something that would make you leave. But you don't and he stays silent. Just reveling in each other's presence.

You read his expression, his lips still hidden under his hand but his eyes say everything. You don't want to ruin the night but you have to tell him or it'll eat at you, not letting you sleep and you ending up looking at him with pity and grief. You don't want that, you want to continue to look at him like you've recently found out from Miles, with reverence and fondness that's out of your reach.

“I'm sorry.” Your words don't hurt him but your expression brings a pang in his heart. “About…everything.”

“‘s not your fault.” Grief knocks on his door and he refuses to answer. “Nothin' to be sorry about.”

“Feels like it is.”

“You're not the one who killed them.” Grief tries to barge in on him, he blocks the door, still refusing to let it in. “There's nothin' to forgive.”

“Still, I'd like to apologize. They were good men.” Against your own better judgment, you take his hand, he doesn't flinch away, even twisting his hand to hold yours properly.

“Do you want to say goodbye? To them?” he murmurs like he isn't sure of it himself.

Hobie refuses to let it in, not again, not in front of you.

“Yes, but we'll do it once you're ready.” You whisper to him like the world could hear his secret.

Hobie sighs. Heart aching, he doesn't want to say goodbye, if it was up to him he'd never—

“Hobie?” You call his name softly, “If you need help with silencing the screams,” a shaky breath escapes you. “I'm here.”

He frowns, seeing her face and not yours for a brief second. Changing tune, he takes his hand away. “Thanks.” It's your turn to frown.

You inhale, “I'll go grab us some water for uh cleaning our wounds. I'll clean them before bed.” Walking away, you leave him alone with his thoughts, he hopes you turn back around, but you don't.

—

Hobie takes first watch, torso exposed to the sea wind, letting it calm the searing pain of his injuries. He observes for any boats or ships on the horizon, even hoping for a box full of medical supplies to wash ashore.

He rubs his heavy eyes, it's supposed to be your turn but he lets you sleep in, after everything he'd let you rest as long as you need to. Looking over his shoulder, the simple act makes him wince. He stares at your sleeping face, calm and angelic under the warmth of the fire, and he can't help but feel jealous. You're situated under the shabby shelter, protected by the red sail that's fluttering in the breeze. Foot twitching, you scrunch up your nose in your sleep,

Chuckling, he turns back around to face the beach.

There's still nothing but seagulls flying above the water and crabs digging into the sand.

Yawning, he shakes his head wildly to keep awake. So he decides to walk around the beach, stretching his throbbing muscles.

As Hobie kicks the sand between his toes, he finds himself standing next to the navy man's corpse. He stares at the lifeless eyes, lips blue, skin so pale it blends in with the sand. The crabs still eat the remains, pinching and taking bits. He scoffs, knuckles shaking, nails leaving crescent shapes on his palms.

He doesn't deserve to be buried, Hobie thinks. And he definitely doesn't need her pity. So he takes the man's legs, slowly dragging it down to the shore until it floats. The rush of waves wakes him up, cold water dousing his lower half. Hobie pushes it away roughly, letting the tides take it, letting the sea claim it like it has claimed his friends.

He watches it slowly drift away, yet his anger doesn't subside. The fire in him is still burning ever brighter. He mentally promises the crew he lost that he'll avenge them. That he'll get Mathias, even if it kills him.

Your screams bring him back to reality. Bolting away, wading through the water, the sand hinders his sprinting, he quickly runs to your side.

“Oi, oi!” Hobie watches your terrified face morph into relief when you see him. “What's wrong? Crab in your knickers?” He stops his joking when tears slide to your cheeks, your entire body is shaking. His chest heaves at your sobbing. Voice cracking when he utters your name, Hobie lets you breathe, holding on to your shoulders firmly.

You stare at him through the tears. “I–I dreamt that you left me here.” His façade breaks into two. “And I w–woke up and you weren't here. I thought—”

“I would never. I won't leave.” You continue to weep so he holds you, not to make you stop but to help steady you through it. He'd hold onto you every minute of every day if he has to.

It's frightening how well you two fit together, limbs tangled around one another. Like a pair of wings, one cannot fly without the other. And that terrifies you through the embrace.

“I'm s-sorry, I really thought.” You find your place atop his chest, face buried on his skin, his scars kissing your cheeks. Hands gripping to the small of his back, your nails almost digging.

“‘m here, ’m not leaving you, promise.” Hobie intends to keep it, not for your sake but for his.

162 notes · View notes

sky-kiss · 4 months

Text

Doll

A/N: I don’t know how to tag this one. It’s not technically dubcon or noncon. I’d describe it a “fuck around and find out.” Loving doll ending, basically. We’ve had so much soft-Raphael lately.

I wanted some horrible fiends.

Raphael x Haarlep x GN! Tav/Reader: Tonight is Consequential 18+

Ah, but what an ignominious end to the tale. The hero finds neither hellfire nor glory, no salvation or damnation; there's nothing at all in the end. Raphael returns to his House of Hope to see the threads of his tapestry severed and the story cut short. The brief wash of pleasure he'd experienced earlier is buried beneath immediate delight and then secondary repulsion.

You're waiting for him, you see. Pretty as a picture, stretched out amidst a sea of dark silks, sweat-slick and spent. You stare at him, through him. Motionless as Haarlep tracks their fingers across your shoulders, down your sternum, over the soft skin of your belly.

"We had a visitor, Raphael," Haarlep says, laughing, gesturing with their free arm, fingers spit-slick. They press two into your open mouth, delighting at the way you instinctively move to suck, so pliant to their wishes. "Less…spirited than before, pity, pity. But just as useful!" They hum, pretty features turning downward. Haarlep pulls their fingers free, wiping the saliva across your neck. "Perhaps more, considering their prior showing."

"What have you done?"

Haarlep frowns, features turning in genuine confusion. They sit up against the headboard, letting you roll away. "Only what they asked, princeling! I am nothing if not a good sport. 'Body and soul,' requested, and 'body and soul' they gave. And for such a low price." They chuckle, "Mmm. Raphael. Raw and undiluted."

Raphael stares at you: eternally bound to him, to the House, a prize fit for a king, a hero's soul. He sees fool's gold sullying his sheets.

Haarlep's arms weave around him, nails scratching over his cock. They fold around this human force, nosing his cheek, licking to the corner of his mouth. "Don't you like your gift? Call me generous, little brat."

Raphael sneers. The comment will cost them later, but it will only satisfy Haarlep, carnal pleasure paling in the face of the inconveniences they've caused. The incubus smiles, eyes hooded and dark. They push, breathing in the words in his ear, plastering themselves against his back. The hard line of their cock presses against him. An artlessness in the little jerks of their hips, betraying genuine pleasure rather than their usual disinterest.

"So silent. Are we displeased?"

"No," Raphael flicks his fingers. He is himself again: cambion and king. "A moment of surprise." You've not moved at all—a lump of flesh, a still-warm corpse: all for their pleasure.

And you do please him. You've cost him a Crown, but he claws some of its price back. Foolish mouse, caught, batted too many times by too many paws. Raphael turns your face into the pillow, fucking you hard. Tight and wet and tedious.

He reflects on the latter point most frequently in the coming years. The devil sips his wine, watching Haarlep have their way with you. Your mouth slackened with pleasure, eyes glassy and vacant. He's hard, yes, a natural response to the pleasure licking through Haarlep and visual stimuli.

You are still lovely, mouse, and Haarlep moves with a liquid grace he will never tire of watching. The incubus tosses their head back, fangs barred, jerking you back against them. Splotches of purples and greens, yellows, paint your skin, a mottled canvas he'd admire under less reflective circumstances.

Raphael is hard but not aroused, and the disparity between those two states sticks like a splinter in his mind. He cannot fathom the…

(Haarlep flips you onto your back, takes and takes, and you are still as eager now as you were then).

…why of the matter.

(You manage a shout of dumb pleasure).

"Keep it quiet, won't you?" Raphael snaps, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Haarlep laughs, one hand covering your mouth. The cambion's eyes drift over the bruises again, and it comes to him: understanding, clarified in Avernus' heat.

Oh, but you.

The ruin of you. So many words, so many languages, dozens upon dozens known to him, but Raphael can think of only one word for you. Not love or promise. Not hope or savior. No, darling, you are so simply summarized:

Disappointment.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x tav #haarlep x raphael #bg3 smut #tw dubcon #my writing #needed some dark devil

274 notes · View notes

bythepen98 · 1 year

Text

N/ purely self-indulgent hhh, plus I always wanted to do something like this when I read a good fic. First attempt at making a webcomic.

Based on @rayshippouuchiha's ShikaNaru fic "The Brightest Flame (The Darkest Shadow)" :D

Rated: M

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Genderfluid Character, Yandere Shikamaru Nara, Smitten Shikamaru Nara, Naruto with Tsunade's Strength, Love At first Chakra Enhanced Strike,.... etc.

Chapters (so far): 2/?

Summary:

Shikamaru’s never felt chakra so vibrant and warm before.

The log that Naruto’s been punching shatters clean apart, reduced to little more than splinters under the devastating force of his chakra enhanced blow.

Shocked and more than a bit startled, Shikamaru wheezes loudly, the sound carrying across the clearing and causing Naruto to abruptly turn and look in his direction.

And in that single moment Shikamaru is lost.

[excerpt]

...because Shikamaru is a Nara to the core, is the strongest they've seen in generations, and the Nara have always been a clan of Shadows after all.

and what does the shadow crave more than the light?

Naruto, with his ocean blue eyes and his golden hair swaying in the breeze his attack had created, shines as bright as the sun itself.

And Shikamaru intends to have him.

(edit: forgot to add this)

..."so much for that quiet wife and two ordinary kids idea."

"Time for a new plan." Because, really, there's no way life with Naruto is going to be any form of quiet or normal.

....Shikamaru's entire life plan has to be thrown out the window and then redrawn from scratch.

Either way Shikamaru's not actually all that upset about his entire life being thrown into an abrupt upheaval.

After all, convincing Naruto to marry him as soon as possible will be well worth the effort.

Naruto's pretty sure this is the closest they've ever actually been to one another outside of the few times they've been paired up to spar in class.

"What're you doing after this?" Shikamaru asks, one hand coming out of his pocket to reach out and play idly with the dangling sleeve of Naruto's kimono.

"After training?" Naruto keeps one eye on Shikamaru's hand...

"More like for the rest of your life," Shikamaru says. "But sure, we can start with training."

Naruto blinks.

.....[Naruto's] not really sure what, exactly, is happening here but he thinks this might mean Shikamaru wants to be his friend now.

Ah my sweet summer child.

Not an exact play by play of what was written in the fic, only the gist I guess and the moment that rly stuck in my head and got me giggling in my pillow.

My love for the "oblivious pure(?) mc and their darker, possessive s/o" trope has struck again. Couldn't've stopped myself from finishing this even when sleep-deprived, which I currently am right now. Had fun challenging myself with this too and might attempt it again with a future chapter or other works depending on my schedule. I'm occupied with studying this month so making something time extensive like this won't happen for awhile yet.

Excitedly waiting for updates :D

751 notes · View notes

twignotstick · 1 month

Text

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 4 ❤️ | Part 1 <- 🧡 | Part 2 <- 💙| Part 3 <- 💜

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Raph & April, April & the Turtles, Splinter's there too, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, guilt, talking it out because we're adults, basketball(???), turtle pile(!!!)

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): yelling, small physical injury

Words: 3,015 (i may be insane🤪)

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

----------------------

When Splinter told her where Raph was, April couldn't help but want to go home. To leave. To act like she didn't know.

But that isn't what big sisters do.

So, instead, like the brave pre-teen she was, she went to the dojo. She went to the shrine, where Raph was already kneeling. She paid her respects (for as long as a hyperactive kid could) to those kids she had never met.

“Do you think I would have been a good big brother?” Raph asked, staring at the family photo in front of him. One of the only remnants he and his father had of his little brothers.

“You are a good big brother,” April responded without hesitation. “You're still looking for them, aren't you?”

“...well, yeah…”

“Then you're being the best big brother that you can be!”

Raph rubbed his knuckles. “But, what if, when we find them, I don't know how to be a big brother? Maybe I won't want to be a big brother then…”

“You can just follow my lead!” April said, puffing out her chest. “I'm already the best big sister, aren't I?”

“Course you are!” Raph said. “But I can't do everything you can do, y’know?”

“Like what?” April asked suspiciously.

“Like…” Raph pondered. “Like putting your hair up! Raph ain't got no hair.”

“Hmm…” April rubbed her chin in thought. “True. But you don't need to do your big brother-ing exactly like I do my big sister-ing. You do Raph! Besides, who cares about hair when you do have the cutest, coolest, most spikiest shell ever in the whole world!”

The girl hopped on Raph's back, climbing on his spikes and tickling under his armpits in just the right spots, leaving both of them laughing blobs on the floor.

Raph was going to be the best big brother ever. April just knew it.

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

“DONNIE! GET DOWN FROM THERE!”

“NOW I WILL BE THE BALL!”

“NO!”

“I MEANT B-BALL DON, NOT- JUST LISTEN TO RAPH!”

Mikey’s hand wandered over to April’s fries, trying to snag one without looking away from the action in front of him. April decided to help him and angled the box so he could grab one.

Donnie had somehow managed to get himself on top of the basketball hoop, with one foot hooked over the backboard, one entangled in the net, and both of his hands wrapped around the hoop itself. Both Raph and Leo were beneath him with their hands up, ready to catch him when he inevitably fell. It was amazing he hadn’t already, honestly.

“April, tell him to get down!” Raph begged, shooting the bystanders in the stands a sideways glance.

“He doesn’t listen to me,” she responded helpfully. “He’s your little brother.”

“At this point, I don’t think he knows how to get down,” Mikey added from his spot on the bleachers. “You might have to cut his foot loose.”

“What do you mean?” Donnie asked, scoffing. “I can get myself down from this contraption just fine!”

Mikey smirked, squinting his eyes. “Prove it.”

Donnie unhooked his leg from the backboard behind him and tried to jump forward, only to discover that he had, in fact, tangled his foot a little worse than expected. He yelped when all of his body weight was suddenly put onto the small space of his ankle as his body inverted. Raph and Leo rushed up to help him down, but found that they could only push him up to lessen the pressure from him dangling.

Raph’s eyes were blown wide. “What do we- MIKEY! DO SOMETHING!”

April and Mikey both came up quickly, and Mikey clambered up Raph’s shell. He pulled a small pocket knife from his hoodie and started sawing at the net while Donnie winced and flailed. Eventually, they got him down, and April could feel the collective relief across the brothers.

Today was supposed to be an easy day. Go out to the surface, pick up some fast food, and show the boys how to properly play basketball. For the most part, it was an easy day. But of course, it couldn’t stay easy. Stupid turtle luck and all. So when Leo just happened to say the wrong thing for Donnie to misconstrue, it all fell apart.

“What were you thinking?!” Raph shouted, looking at Donnie on the ground who was massaging his irritated ankle. “You could have gotten seriously hurt! You did get seriously hurt! I warned you!”

“Chill out, Raph.” Leo tried to place himself between the two. “It's not that serious. No need to get your mask in a twist-”

“Not that serious?” Raph got up in Leo’s face. “You’re telling me it’s not that serious?! You were just as worried as I was!”

Leo pushed Raph’s plastron lightly. “Yeah, when he was dangling from a basketball net. Now he’s on the floor, and it’s fine.”

“We’re all good, bro!” Mikey sat down next to Donnie, looking at the injury himself. “Yeesh, that is not pretty, though…”

April was starting to feel like she wasn’t supposed to be here for this conversation.

“All good?!” Raph stomped on the ground, leaving a small crack on the court. “If we hadn't caught him, he could have broken his leg, or smashed his skull open! If we weren’t here, he could have just sat here, waiting for some human to find him! What happens then?!”

April tried to step forward. “Raph, you need to calm down.”

Donnie looked up with pitiful eyes. “I'm sorry, Raph, I didn't-”

“WHY DON'T YOU GUYS EVER LISTEN TO ME?!”

Raph threw his hands up, only to freeze when he looked down.

Mikey had his hand firmly in his hoodie pocket, ready to take out his pocket knife again. Leo had readied himself into a defensive position, one he had practiced many times in the dojo. Donnie held his arms braced in front of his face, neck turned away, ready for impact.

Donnie's eyes were clenched shut, but Mikey and Leo kept theirs trained on the threat.

The threat.

Raph's breath got shaky, and he stepped back slowly. His eyes kept darting across the brothers beneath him. He picked up his pace and hurried out of the basketball court, walking with purpose down the sidewalk under the New York moonlight.

April walked up next to the boys on the ground. Leo looked at her, with despair and guilt in his eyes. “April, we didn't…”

“I'll find him,” she promised. “You boys just stay here, alright? If anybody walks by, put your hoods up. Sound good?”

The brothers nodded solemnly, and April hurried to catch up with the eldest.

The New York streets were, thankfully, empty due to how late it was. The only lights showing now were the light of the moon, the stars, and the streetlights. The air felt thick, but April couldn’t tell if that was because it was humid or because of the nervousness she felt. April was able to see the large form of the snapper quickly moving down the sidewalk. She jogged to catch up, only for Raph to turn and start scaling a nearby apartment building.

The turtle got up to the roof quickly because of course he did, he's been training as a ninja his whole life. April sighed and strained her neck up to where he had vanished. “You know I'm not good at this stuff, right?!” She called up, not expecting a response. Sighing in defeat, she moved toward the fire escape.

She scaled up, having to toss herself up when she reached the top level, and hefted up onto the roof. After recollecting her breath, she looked up to see Raph curled in a ball in the far corner of the rooftop. His arms were wrapped around his legs, knees held close to his chest. He had his beak stuffed down, hiding his face, with the hood of his hoodie haphazardly covering his neck and the back of his head.

April settled down silently next to him.

His breaths were deep, but they had a relatively normal pace. April wasn't worried about that. She was beginning to worry about how deeply he was shoving his face down. She rested a hand on his arm softly, ready to pull away if she needed.

“...did you see their faces?”

April almost missed the whisper. “Raph?”

“Their faces, April,” Raph sighed, lifting his face to reveal his reddened eyes. “There was so much fear in their faces. They… they were scared, April. They were scared of me.”

He choked back a sob. “They were scared of me, April! They thought I was gonna hurt them! Little brothers don't get scared of big brothers! Big brothers are supposed to keep their little brothers safe!”

He placed his chin on his knees, looking blankly into the air. “Raph ain't no big brother. I just… ain't built for it. They deserve more than what they got.”

April put a hand on the side of Raph's face, making sure he was looking at her. “Do you want a hug, big man?”

Without hesitation, Raph wrapped his bulky arms around April's much smaller body. April knew he was holding back, but the squeeze around her core was still strong. She didn't mind.

Over her shoulder, she heard the whimpering voice of her little brother say, “...why can't I do this?”

April rubbed the turtle's spiky shell through the hoodie he was wearing. The spikes were threatening to poke through the fabric. “You're still learning how to be a big brother. Just like they're learning how to be little brothers.”

“If I had done something, maybe they… m-maybe they wouldn't have gotten hurt. I-if I'd stepped up as a big brother, maybe none of this…”

Raph's breath hitched as his tears started to fall.

“...you're not talking about the hoop anymore… are you?”

Raph squeezed her tighter, rubbing his face on her shoulder.

“None of that was your fault, Raphael. You were a kid.”

“I was supposed to protect them, April!”

“Maybe you were. Maybe that's what you should have done, and you didn't. But you can't change that now.”

Raph leaned back, and April wiped a tear from his face. Only one; she didn't dare wipe them all. He needed this.

“You can't beat yourself up because of things you didn't do. That's not what big brothers do.” April lifted his chin, just a bit. “What big brothers do is help get through the aftermath. You have to be there for your little brothers when they need you. And sometimes, they have to learn things the hard way. It's your job to make sure they truly learn, and heal.”

Raph leaned into April's palm. “I don't know if I'm all cut out for being a big brother anymore, Apes.”

April huffed through her nose. “Well, that's too bad.”

“What?”

“You don't get a choice no more, Raphie. You wanted to be their big brother. Now they need their big brother. So either you leave your baby brothers without a big brother to take care of them, or you tough it out and make them feel loved.” April lightly punched Raph's shoulder. “I didn't put all this effort in for nothing, either. I'm trying to be a big sister too. And with brothers like yours, it ain't easy.”

“Mikey's easy,” Raph laughed.

“Sometimes, maybe, but other times, he's a perfectionist and a doormat! And Leo's always got a stick up his butt, and don't even get me started on Donnie!”

“Hey!” Raph shoved April's shoulder back. “Don't be talking about my little brothers that way.”

“And there's that big brother.” April smiled, patting his arm. “It's like you don't even have to try.”

“Well,” Raph said, grabbing April's hand to hold, “I learned from the best.”

April's chest puffed proudly, and she pulled Raph in for one more hug.

The sweet moment was interrupted by April's ringtone coming from her back pocket. She pulled her phone out and answered Mikey's call.

“Hello?”

“Hey April! Did you find Raph?”

April looked at Raph in front of her, then back at her phone. “Yeah, I found him.”

“Sweet! Well, uh, we were going to just head back to the lair, and you guys can meet us there? I think there's a Lou Jitsu movie, a bowl of ice cream, and a turtle pile with Raph's name on it. If he wants it, of course! And I think I can convince Pops to get in on it too…”

Raph met April's eyes, then inched closer to speak into the phone himself.

“I'll hold you to that, big man.”

Mikey immediately cheered up on the other end of the phone at the sound of his big brother's voice, and April handed Raph the phone so they could talk. She sat back and watched Raph apologize to Mikey, all while smiling and promising the biggest hugs he could possibly give.

He had grown so much. Physically, that was obvious. But ever since his little brothers came back into his life, April had seen Raph grow as a person. He was better for it. He was stronger for it. Because now, he had something to protect.

Raph was going to be the best big brother ever. April just knew it.

----------------------

Apologies were given, ice cream was eaten, and Lou Jitsu movies were watched. The four brothers were left sleeping in a pile of limbs and bean bags, and it was the happiest sight April had seen in months. Raph at the base, with his arms wrapped around Donnie and Leo at his sides, and Mikey tucked into a ball on Raph's plastron. Each of them, just a picture of bliss.

Splinter had gotten up to make tea, which he had done quite easily with his ninja dexterity. April, on the other hand, had struggled for a full 3 minutes to get out from her wedge between Leo and Raph without waking them. It was worth it, anyhow. Even if just to see the brothers like this. (And to talk with Splinter, but the boys being cute took priority.)

The rat filled his absurdly skull shaped kettle with water and began boiling it. He turned around to see April and smiled. “Would you like a cup?” he asked softly.

“Sure!” April affirmed. “I'd love that.”

The tea brewed, and the two enjoyed each other's company in silence. April had never felt quite as close to an adult other than her parents as she did with Splinter. And sure, he was a giant rat man who often did strange things like singing to get his back popped into place and bragging about how hot he was in his past, but he was one of the kindest people April knew. Human or not. And coolest, of course. He was a ninja warrior, what did you expect?

Once their cups were filled, they returned to the living room. April sat on Splinter's couch, while Splinter himself stood to the side. Both looked at the slumbering turtles as they sipped their tea.

“Thank you.”

April looked down at Splinter, whose eyes were filled with pride. “Me? Why?”

“They would have never been like this without your help. Usagi's and Cassandra's as well, but especially yours. It is because of you that they can be so peaceful like this.”

“A rare sight,” April snickered.

“Yes,” Splinter agreed wistfully. “When you have four teenage boys, you learn to appreciate moments like this.”

April looked fondly at the rat, then at the boys, with a strange fullness in her chest. A familial feeling. One growing stronger by the day.

“You have done more than help them,” Splinter continued. “You have encouraged me to come into my role as their father. You have reminded me, time and time again, that I am their father, and I must act as such.”

“‘Reminded’?” April teased. “You don't need reminding. You're, like, the best dad ever. No offense to my actual dad.”

Splinter laughed, a smaller version of that hearty, old man laugh he had. Quiet enough not to disturb his sons.

“I'm serious! You should get some sorta reward for this. Maybe a plaque- ‘World's Best Father Who Got Turned into a Giant Rat and Accidentally Got Four Impromptu Turtle Sons’.”

“Oh, April.” Splinter placed his small hand on April's arm, looking over at his sons with shining eyes. “I have my reward.”

April fought laughter at the cheesy remark, but she kept silent. The rat put his empty cup down and climbed back into the turtle pile, carefully nestling back into the perfectly sized space between Raph's plastron and Mikey's. Even in his sleep, Mikey's arm instinctively curled around his father.

April suddenly felt a wave of fulfillment in her core. A feeling that told her she had done something right. That she had truly made a positive impact on something.

And maybe that something was a family of mutants. Four boys forced to grow up too soon and a father with haunting memories in his mind.

They weren't perfect. They never would be. Not with the hand they got. But, even so, they were trying. They were improving. That was all April could ask of them.

Some things would never be fixed. In certain ways, her brothers would always be broken.

They just needed someone to help carry them when they shattered.

April finished her tea, placed her cup next to Splinter’s, then stepped as quietly as she could to return to her place in the pile. Donnie scrunched up and rubbed his face at the disturbance, but fortunately didn't wake. When he calmed back down, he placed his cheek on the crest of Mikey's shell contentedly, drooling just a bit.

As April settled back in, Leo rubbed his face in her hair. Raph churred softly at the feeling of pressure returning to his chest. All of the mutants let out a calm breath as their bundle became complete once more.

She was always happy to pick up the broken pieces, especially if they brought her warmth like this.

○●○●○●○

Behold, the finale. 8,776 words total. I had to rewrite some parts of this a couple times to get it right. Originally, I was just going to end it with Raph agreeing to go home, but that didn't feel like a proper way to wrap up this whole story. And with the lack of Splinter throughout, I figured that last scene would be the perfect way to wrap it up. 🐀

Shout out to @cupcakeslushie again. The EW comic was actually the thing that finally made me get a tumblr account instead of watching from the sidelines. Now I get to enjoy one of the coolest communities ever, thanks to that. Thank you, slushie <3

(also, i may or may not have something for venus in the works,,👀🩵)

I plan on writing more @tmntaucompetition propaganda stuff while the comp is going on. There are so many skrungly aus i want to get my little paws in,,,, But after that, ive got some aus of my own that i cant wait to share!

Check out the tmnt au comp, follow EW (THE NEXT PART OF THE LEO ARC COMES OUT TOMMOROW, AH), and thank you for reading! :)

#tmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt #tmnt fanfiction #teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #tmnt april #tmnt au propaganda #tmnt raph #unpause rottmnt #tmnt separated au #separated au #twig writes #tmnt splinter

107 notes · View notes

reagi-df · 26 days

Text

Armageddon Brothers

The Four Housemen of the apocalypse

Since the first part of the series is out I’d thought I’d show the concepts of the turtles and their “Horses” (please mind the tags though)

I had an idea about a what if and I’ve roped in others to help with this madness 😈

Cough cough @devotedtosadpoetry @ninjaneonleon @kinky-asexual

What if in another universe the Kraang where freed early, the turtles are tots but had unlocked their ninpō at a young age. The Kraang, having interacted with Oraki Saki have had an interest in the Hamato's and the Foot Clan. It was the Hamato's that sealed them after all. So the Hamato's where on the Kraang's list, having killed Splinter they were about to kill the turtles, but why waste potential weapons? This au is about the boys being "raised" by the kraang and how they uses them to take over other words and wage wars. Raph - War - 21 - Oldest Mikey - Famine - 18 - Youngest - “horse” Feast Donnie - Pestilence - 19 - Second oldest - “horse” Plague Leo - Death - 19 - Second youngest - “horse” Reaper Raph - Raph is pretty much savage Raph, with a lot more Kraang on him than he had in the movie. He and Leo have a bond where Leo is the only one who can calm him down. Raph is very susceptible to orders and when he's paired up with Mikey on the battle field they're unstoppable. Being War Raph is a lot more stronger than he's in canon, the more destruction he causes feeds him, and with Mikey acting as his booster of sorts they're very formidable on the field. Mikey - Mikey is very unhinged and sadistic, he enjoys tormenting people and killing for the fun of it, always change his hunger. With being Famine he feeds on peoples emotions and feelings. His hyperacticness boots Raph's rage and destructiveness. Mikey is always smiling, always fining things fun, his bubbly nature is warped into something twisted. His favourite person to torment is Leo, there's a rivalry (mostly one sides on Mike's part) that's been turned into something dark and he enjoys the misery he causes his oldest brother. Donnie - Don, like Mike. is very unhinged and sadistic, doing things in the name of science, his fav rate past time is experiments on living people, and also like Mikey, Leo is his prime target. Donnie has a connection to Leo that the others dont. He and Leo accidentally mind melded during a “traumatic event” , casing them to be permanently linked slightly. Donnie is envious and hates the power Leo has, and he doesn't know why the Kraang are so hell bent on keeping his brother test subject around. Being pestilence. Donnie handles a lot of chemicals, he createsBio weapons (along with others) Leo - unlike his brother, Leo Is more placid and won't defend himself against his brothers or the kraang. Being prone to memory los, Leo doesn't remember a lot and he's always craving to be around his teammates. Since he is death he never stays dead when he's "accidentally" killed by his brothers. The Prison Dimension is his domain, his body has abased the dark matter that's in there every time hes been thrown in, (usually dead). Leo feeds of the souls he takes and is always the last one in the field.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #rise donnie #rise movie #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #apocobros

47 notes · View notes

theros · 6 months

Text

editing my alterhuman tagging system just slightly to separate anteatypes (similar term to kardiatype, but without the past life emphasis) from the general fictomere tag. since anteatypes aren't things you still identify as, and my fictomere tag is for things i do currently identify as

#the body is whole but whispers splinter the mind #you know my textpost tag is now the only one that won't autopopulate for me if i type part of it? weird #anyway time to go clean up that tag a bit. there's only two 'types i need to move but i have a good amount of artwork of them reblogged

1 note · View note

eris-snow · 11 months

Text

𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou x ochaco, angst

Your first love felt as warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace.

Bakugou was your first love.

As warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace, that's exactly what first love was like for you.

The wind picks up speed whenever you see him again, as if guiding you to him...or pulling him away.

Awkward silence engulfs the two of you when you see each other again. He has Ochaco now, and he has a familiar large, protective hand snug around her waist, right where it used to be around yours.

You wish Ochaco's meaner. Wish she was cruel, unkind or even taunting just so it'd be easier to hate her. She's the opposite though. Bubbly, beautiful, strong, all encapsulated in her being displayed like she was an angel from heaven.

You can see what Bakugou sees in her.

You remember the feeling of your heart breaking all too well when you see him dipping her into a kiss at their wedding. You wish you hadn't been invited.

You do your best to feign smiles to ensure the couple that you're over him, over them, but it reaches the breaking point when they start with speeches.

You're not over Bakugou, the wound is still so fresh, and it never really set in for you until you see that dazzling ring on his finger, an identical band around Ochako's on the same hand.

Perfect, smiley Ochako.

It feels a little chilly in here, don't you think?

"I don't deserve you, Ochaco," God, her name sounds so fond when it comes out of Bakugou's mouth. A gentle caress contrasts his gruff, raspy voice that makes everyone coo. "No one here knows what shit we've gone through, the war, the damn PRESS THAT WON'T LEAVE US ALONE!" He emphasises this by throwing a withering glare at the cameraman as if daring him to sell the photos to the internet.

Everyone laughs good-naturedly, and you're the only one that feels a sting to the heart at every sentence he utters. "I'm not good with words, but I mean what I fucking say. I love you, Ochaco," There's a pause, not an ounce of doubt and it's ripping you apart as everyone around 'awws!' at his bold declaration.

"I'm not gonna elaborate about how I'll catch every star in the universe for you, or whatever poetic Shakespear equivalent you're expecting. I love you. Those words, those three simple words? They prove my fucking point."

He just had to say it again.

Your heart is shattering with every word while you gather up the shards with gloveless hands. Each fragment cuts deep, and it feels like there's a messy trail of blood trickling behind as you hug the splintered memories close to your chest.

"Izuku," You whisper, catching his eyes with a pained gaze. "I can't do this anymore. Could you tell them that I'm sorry for leaving so early? I-I just...don't want to ruin their best night and-"

Izuku cuts you off with a tight embrace. "Go," The hero says, smiling gently in understanding. "I'll explain it to Kacchan."

You thank him profusely, saying that you'd do anything to make it up to him for the trouble but Izuku just waves you off, telling you to have a safe trip home.

You hastily grab your coat from the rack, finding a bench to take your high heels off and exchange them for comfortable sneakers.

"Leaving so soon?"

Your head snaps up so fast you thought you'd dislocate something, and your eyes meet red.

Bakugou.

Your guard flies up immediately, expression guarded. You're not faking happiness, simply a void of emotion, neutral and defeated.

It fucking hurts.

"Izuku told me," He said, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, yes, maybe." You laugh at yourself. "It's been quite a night."

Bakugou never meant to hurt you, and never, ever to this extent. He sits down. "Congratulations." His eyes meet yours, and they're so fucking blank like it's your only way to stop yourself from crying. "Ochaco's a wonderful person. I couldn't think of anyone better suited for you."

Bakugou studies you carefully and watches out for a lie but never finds one. Oh, God, you mean it. Bakugou sees what you're doing. Your self-esteem has crashed into the negatives because you don't even believe you were even worth it.

Bakugou can't help but cave.

"L/n, you know that it wasn't you, right?" He insists. There's an arm's length between both of you like you're afraid he gets too close. "It was me, fuck, I wasn't ready for a relationship. Not when I wanted to be the number 1 hero-"

"I get that." You interrupt calmly. You don't smile, you don't frown, simply keep that dumb sangfroid mask on your face. You've always been too fucking respectful. "I know everything, that's why I need to go tonight. It's painful knowing."

Bakugou wishes you'd show him something. You used to be an open book, full of life whether it was large, overexaggerated reactions or the energetic person that'd always make time for him, but now you look...tired. Subdued, if you will, as if the life got sucked out of you. You're so tensed that it makes Bakugou's eyes furrow because, gosh you seem so quiet now.

Just a sign...a tear forming, eyes misting, a bottom lip quivering perhaps? Or maybe he'd get a hearty laugh and a smack to his shoulder for him being so concerned.

Any second now.

The blank look stays in your eyes. There's nothing.

"You were great out there." You continue, finally averting your gaze to slip off your shoes. "Ochaco's lucky to have someone like you. Your speech spoke volumes. I think she'd like those bentos you make for her on the daily. I remember seeing them on her desk when I got the same patrol shift as her-"

"L/n, listen, I-"

"Your skills really improved," You power through, tying your laces on the sneakers now. "You should keep doing them, you know?" your laugh sounds more like a wheeze, like there's glass stabbing your lungs. "Bet they tasted heavenly-"

"Y/n, stop-"

"Her face lights up every time she sees you, y'know?" You stand up, eyes staring up at the stars. "She loves it when you surprise her, I remember that one time-"

"Sunshine!" yells Bakugou.

Your eyes flicker back to his, finally pausing your rant. "That's playing dirty, Bakugou, I thought you'd never call me that again." You frown.

You're like a different person now, so rational and collected it throws him off. "I just..." He runs a hand down his face, and you look at him curiously, guard higher than ever. You fully expect him to do say something worse, and he hates it.

He was young and cruel back then, he should have handled the breaking-up process better, not just...tell you so out of the blue as if he simply wanted to tell you his hero schedule for the month.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou apologises, soft and genuine. You look as if he just grew another head. "I never got to...apologise. You didn't-you never deserved to be let down like that, I should have done it better. I should have done..." Bakugou's eyes drop down to his ring, shiny and beautiful, just like his life ahead. "a lot of things better."

You catch him staring, and shake your head. "You shouldn't dwell on things so far back in the past," You chide. "What's done is done. I forgive you."

Stop.

Show him something, anything. Bakugou knows, he knows you're breaking inside, knows you want to slap him, laugh at him...he doesn't know but just anything!

Instead, you make your way to the door. "I'll be going now," You bow towards him, the corners of your mouth upturning into a small smile. "Have a good night."

Bakugou's eyes trail to your face, but you've already turned your back onto him. His eyes fall on your shoes, the same, battered sneakers he'd gotten you close to a decade ago back when you were together.

"Good night," He whispers softly, staring at your back a little longer before closing the door.

Your high heels dangle on your fingers as you use another to wrap your hands around yourself, a bitter laugh escaping you as your tears overflow.

It's really cold out tonight, isn't it?

---

End notes:

I don't really know why, but I started to tear up while I was writing Y/n talking about bentos. I was really feeling this story, so I hope it came out well.

#mha #mha fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #my hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #angst #bakugou angst

225 notes · View notes