#bay!raph

“I have to get this scoop.”  The woman replied.  Y/n stared at her, dumbfounded.

“It’s dangerous d- look out!”  Y/n started.  She ducked out of the way as a member of the foot clan approached.  She grabbed the woman’s arm, pulling her away.  “What’s your name, by the way?”  Y/n asked as she tugged the woman through various posts.

“April.  April O’ Neal.”  She replied.

“Nice to meet you, April.  I’m Y/n.  And if I have anything to say about it, we’ll survive this encounter.”  She spoke, turning to look behind her, checking for assailants.  When she faced forward again, a Foot member stepped out from behind a wall, hitting her in the head with the back of his gun.  April screamed.  Y/n stood up, but was grabbed and drug away.  She fought, but with the bang on her head, everything was a little fuzzy. She heard April’s heeled boots hitting the floor quickly as she was pushed after her by another Foot.

The men threw them to the ground.  “Nobody move!”  He yelled.  Y/n and April sat up, so they were less vulnerable.  Y/n turned, seeing bombs lining the walls.  She swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths through the nose.

“We know you’re out there!  If you don’t surrender, we start executing hostages!”  A woman with red streaks in black hair shouted.  April silently pulled out her phone, trying to film. Y/n’s eyes narrowed.

“April.”  She hissed quietly.  The woman saw, though.

“You!  Stand up!” She demanded, pulling out her gun and aiming it at the brunette.

“All aboard!!”  An unfamiliar voice shouted.  The woman in red shouted something, just before the lights went out.  The subway train passed, and giant figures jumped from it. There were sounds of crashing, and people were being flown everywhere.  April stood, trying to capture the moment on video.

Y/n stood up with her, staggering a bit from the head injury.

“Let’s go!  Let’s move!” The voice yelled again.  The lights came back on, showing that the figures had gone up a tarp for construction.

“They went up that way!”  A woman informed.  

“Some kind of freak!”  A man exclaimed.  “Flew right past me!”

Y/n watched April go over to inspect it before running off. “April!”  She called.  April must not have heard, because she didn’t respond.  Y/n rolled her eyes, chasing after her, even though the constant throbbing of her head told her not to.  While she was running by, she noticed that the Foot Clan members were tied up along the wall, undoubtedly unconscious.  “April, wait!”  Y/n pleaded, trying to get through the swarm of people trying to get out at once.  The police arrived as a S.W.A.T. team made their way downstairs, guns drawn.

Y/n continued to chase April until the brunette came to a stop in front of a fire escape, where they both noticed the tarp.  April wordlessly started climbing the fire escape, trying to get to the roof of the building.  Y/n groaned softly again, following April up the steps, though a few flights behind.  The higher they climbed, the clearer they could hear voices.  The voices were bragging, saying that this was ‘their city’.

They continued talking, only stopping when April took a picture. Y/n had one more flight to go. She heard whispering, but couldn’t make it out.  April had started to climb back down when something wrapped around her and yanked her upwards onto the roof.  Y/n’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.  She climbed the ladder just as she heard a loud thud.  She climbed over, seeing a towering figure standing above April, who was currently on her side.

“Hey!”  Y/n shouted. She rushed forward, stepping between the figure and April.  She reached her hand back slightly, in case she would have to push April out of the way.

“We can hear you.”  The figure replied to one of the other figures.  He turned back to Y/n and April.  “If you don’t gimme the camera, I’m gonna-”

“Enough!!”  Another voice spoke.  Y/n and April looked up, seeing a figure on a water tower flip off, landing on the roof. “Back off, Raph!”  He commanded.  The other creature raised his hands in surrender, walking towards the others.

“I only saw Batman once.”  He defended.  Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, clearly missing part of the conversation.  Her eyes narrowed as she turned again, putting herself between April and the new addition.  April stood, trying to make herself less vulnerable.

“Ma’ams.  Hello.  I apologize.” He spoke, jumping down from the ledge. “My colleague here forgot to say please.”  He began walking forward, forcing Y/n to walk backwards, pushing April gently.  “So, would you please, hand over the camera?”

Another loud thud was heard.  The girls spun around, seeing another figure.  This one was the smallest of the four, but was the most in the light.  He looked like a giant turtle.  

“I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”  Y/n mumbled.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  It’s just a mask.”  He spoke, trying to calm April down.  “Don’t freak out.”  He reached up, pulling the orange bandana off of his head.  “Right?”  He asked. April panted, passing out.

“Well, I think that went well.”  The fourth figure spoke up.  He stepped forward, about to lean over April.  Y/n quickly stepped in the way.  He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Don’t.”  Y/n warned.

“You don’t know who we are.”

“I don’t know what you are.”  She replied quickly.  “All I know is that you guys beat up the Foot Clan, grabbed her,” she spoke, gesturing to April, “and threatened to take her camera.”  She spoke, her voice firm.  She wasn’t sure why, since she was terrified.

“We’re the good guys.”  The one in the orange mask spoke, (he had put it back on).

“How do I know that?”  Y/n retorted.

“You don’t.”  The one in blue voiced, stepping forward.  “But your friend here needs help.”  Y/n’s eyes flickered down to April quickly before looking back into blue. “She can’t get help, because you can’t carry her down the fire escape by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t call her my friend.”  Y/n admitted.  “I only met her like, forty-five minutes ago.”

“Well, either way.”  He replied. Y/n stared at him, trying to find any dishonesty in his eyes.  Finally satisfied that she couldn’t find any hint of a lie, she stepped away from April. The turtle with several gadgets on him rushed forward, beginning to look her over.  Y/n’s eyes stayed trained on their forms, still being cautious.  “That was very noble and brave of you.”  The turtle in blue spoke again.  Y/n whipped around, looking at him.

“What was?”  She asked.

“Protecting her from us, even though you hardly knew her.”

“Oh.”  Was her only reply.  “Thanks, I guess.”

“My name is Leonardo.”  He introduced.  Y/n looked up at him, meeting his blue eyes again.

“Nice to meet you.”  She replied. “I’m Y/n.  Y/n L/n.”  She spoke, sticking out her hand.  Leonardo looked down at it, clearly hesitant.  “You don’t have to.”  She assured. He looked back up at her, smiling softly as he reached his own hand forward, shaking hers.  She noticed that his large, three-fingered, green hand almost completely enveloped hers.  She couldn’t help the large grin that spread on her lips.  It must have been contagious, because he grinned, too.

The turtle in orange rushed forward, sticking out his hand as well, seeming to want his turn.  “I’m Michelangelo, though people usually call me Mikey.  Or people would, if I knew people.”  He told her, grabbing her hand in both of his and shaking it firmly. “I’m the funniest, smartest, most skilled, and clearly the best looking.” He introduced.  Y/n chuckled, feeling herself calm down.

“Nice to meet you.”  She told him through laughter.

“The one looking over miss-hot-stuff is Donatello, though we call him Donnie.”  He spoke. Y/n’s eyebrow raised at the nickname for April, but she let it slide.

“Nice to meet you, Donnie.”  She spoke.  He nodded.

“Likewise.”  He replied shortly.

“And the grump is Raphael, or Raph.”

Y/n looked up at Raph.  His arms were crossed, and he didn’t look too pleased.  Y/n waved softly.  “Hi.”

He simply huffed in response, looking to his right to avoid looking at her.  She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking to her right as well, where Leo stood looking between the two.  Mikey was now hovering over Donatello’s, shoulder.

“Her name is April O’ Neal.”  Donnie spoke.

“Hey, why do you have her phone?”  Y/n asked.

“I’m wiping it.”  He answered simply, looking over the top of his glasses to see her.  “People can’t know we exist.”

Y/n pursed her lips.  “I guess that makes sense.”

“Blood pressure stabilizing.”  The genius informed seconds later.  Y/n turned, standing over April as she watched her eyes flutter open and closed.

“Why are we still here playing ‘doctor’?”  Raphael finally spoke up, expressing his frustration.

“Because she might have a head injury.”  Leo responded.  The statement suddenly reminded Y/n of when she banged her head when she was captured, and her hand instinctively went to her head.  She immediately flinched at the pain the gentle touch caused.

“Uh, correction: she is a hot chick who might have a head injury.”  Mikey spoke up, replying to his brother.  Leo ignored this comment, having seen Y/n.

“Are you okay?”  He asked.

“Hmm?  Oh. Yeah, I’m good.”  She answered dismissively.  Donnie spoke suddenly while he snapped his fingers.

“Ma’am?  Ma’am? Can you hear me?  Do you know what city you’re in?  Do you know where you are?”

“Have you seen that video where the cat plays the chopsticks with the chopsticks?”  Mikey asked.  Y/n rolled her eyes and put her hand over her face in frustration.

“Can we focus here?”  Leo asked, placing his hand on Mikey’s face and shoving him away.

“Guys, please.  Come on, give her some air.”  Donnie pleaded.

“April?”  Y/n spoke softly, taking a small step forward, now that Mikey had backed up. “You okay?”  She asked tentatively.

“Yeah.”  She replied shortly before turning to the turtles.  “What are you?”

“Well….uh, miss…….we’re ninjas.”  Leo explained, placing his fist in his other open hand and bowing slightly in respect.

“We’re mutants.”  Raph growled, now having moved so he was standing behind April.

“Well, technically we’re turtles.”  Donnie corrected.

“Oh, and we’re teenagers.”  Mikey added, leaning on Y/n to see April over her. “But we can still have adult conversations.”  He finished, waving his hand for effect.  April began standing, prompting everyone to back up for her.

“So you’re…..ninja….mutant….turtle…..teenagers?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.”  Donnie informed once April was standing.

“See?  They’re looking at us like we’re freaks.” Raph pointed out from his crouched position on a beam.  “I bet that’s why you took our picture, wasn’t it?”

Y/n’s jaw dropped.  “I was not!”  She scolded, her eyebrows bent low.  He ignored her.

“Show your friends?”  He asked, jumping down so he appeared bigger.

“Bro, that’s a good thing!”  Mikey spoke up.  “Maybe they have hot friends!”

Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but kept her eyes on Raph, not sure what his next move would be.  His hand rose, causing Y/n to flinch slightly.

“You’re afraid of me.”  He noted, looking down at her.

“Well, it’s not exactly like you’re using a friendly tone or body language.”  Y/n argued.

“Ooh.  She got you, dude.”  Mikey piped up.  Raph turned, glaring at him, before he turned his attention back to the girls in front of him.

“Lookin’ for this?”  He asked, waving April’s phone.

“Don’t break it.  No, no, no, no, no, no.”  April pleaded.

“How many times do I have to tell you?  We don’t break things.  We fix them.” Leo spoke, taking the phone out of Raph’s large hand.  “Donnie already wiped the phone, genius.  Problem solved: moving on.”

Raphael shoved his brother’s chest.  “Hey, who put you in charge?”

“You know who did.”  Leonardo immediately retorted, gritting his teeth slightly in a challenging manner.

“Ooh!  Tension! It’s been like, thirty whole minutes since you guys last had this argument.”  Mikey announced.  Donnie suddenly appeared in view.

“Leonardo, if we want to make it home before master we gotta hustle.” He informed.  Leo pointed to his left.

“Not yet.  Check her out, first.”  He instructed.

“I’ll gladly check her out!”  Mikey voiced. His smile dropped when all three of his brothers turned to him, each giving him a different look.  Raph’s was one of rage, Donnie’s was one of disbelief and annoyance, and Leo’s was one of exhaustion.  Leo turned back to Donnie.

“Her head hurts, too.  Check it out.”  He told him. Donnie looked up, locking eyes with Y/n. Raph rolled his eyes, walking away and beginning to pace, muttering something about “waste of time”.

Y/n held up her hands in surrender.  “I’m fine, really.”  She insisted, even as Donatello was getting closer.  He brought his wrist up, pressing a few buttons on a machine tied to it. He brought his goggles down, too, beginning his ‘check-up’.  “I really don’t want to make you guys late.  Raph’s right, it’s a waste of time.”  Y/n informed.  Raphael spun around, and Y/n silently guessed that he wasn’t used to hearing that he’s right. Donnie reached forward carefully, gently placing one of his fingers on Y/n’s head.  She flinched back.  “Ow.”

“Sorry.”  Donnie apologized quickly and quietly.

“It’s alright.”  She replied, just as softly.

“You’ve got a mild concussion.”  He informed.  “Get some bed rest, drink some fluids, and depending on how intense the pain is, take some Tylenol.  And since you have a bump on your head, you might want to ice it, too.”  Donnie instructed the girl.  She blinked a few times before she nodded.

“Okay.  Thanks.” She replied shortly.  Donnie smiled softly, nodding his own head in return.

“Come on, guys.”  Leo called as he began to turn around.  He suddenly stopped short, however.  “Oh, wait.” He turned back around, facing the girls and pointing the handle of one of his katanas at them.  “Do not say a word about this to anyone.  If you do, we will find you…..April O’ Neal and Y/n L/n.”  He turned. “We’re on the move, Raphael.”

April muttered something, but Y/n figured she’d ask later.  Raphael stood on the ledge of the roof, twirling his sais in his hands before sheathing them.  Y/n rolled her eyes.  “That was unnecessary.”  She mumbled.

“Yeah!  We’ll find you…..O’Neal….and L/n.”  Mikey spoke, moving to leave but coming back.  “I’m sorry, that came across super creepy.”

Y/n let out a small laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to conceal it.

“We will find you, though.”  Mikey finished, pointing at the girls before walking to his brothers.  They all jumped off the ledge, running and leaping across rooftops.  Y/n watched them leave, hearing a click beside her.  She turned, seeing April holding her phone.

“Did you seriously just-”

“I have to get this story.”  She cut off. Y/n rolled her eyes.

“April, you heard what they said!  They’ll find you.”  She argued.

“Don’t you understand? This is huge!  I can finally get the story of a lifetime!”  She exclaimed, rushing down the fire escape.  Y/n groaned.

“No one’s gonna believe her, anyway.”  She told herself, trying to ease her conscience.  She followed April down the fire escape.  “Wait for me!”

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

A/n:  repost

When Raph pulls you into his room, presses your back against the door, and buries his face in your neck, you can't help but giggle like a fucking teenager. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he speaks, and it makes you shiver, makes your smile widen so much your cheeks hurt.

“Been waitin’ all day to getcha to myself, doll.”

The earnest excitement in his voice makes you melt. Large hands trail up and down your sides, massaging and kneading, and then his lips find yours. You sigh into his kiss, slow and sweet like honey. The barest glide of his tongue across yours, the low rumble in his chest that manages to vibrate your mouth just a bit. It's driving you a little crazy, to be honest. You can't get over the fact that he can get you this worked up just from kissing.

Too soon, he pulls his mouth away and goes back to nuzzling into your neck. His hands tighten on your waist before one comes up to cup your breast over your shirt. You two have only gotten past kissing a couple of times before, so it pulls a loud, surprised squeak out of you.

Raph's other hand comes up quickly to cover your mouth, and your smile slips away as your eyes widen and your heart stutters in your chest. He murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, but the chill it sends through you this time isn't a good one.

“Shhh, you gotta keep quiet, baby girl. We're-”

No.

His next words are lost on you. There's a roaring static in your mind as sick panic takes over. It blurs your vision, distorts what you're hearing. You can't focus. You can't breathe. You can't move.

You're not there. Raph isn't him. Don't- don't slip back there, don't- no no no no-

Someone is standing over you. You're dizzy. Silent. As still as a statue. You feel their hand lift from your mouth, but you don't react.

Keep quiet. Keep quiet. Keep quiet.

You're aware of your heartbeat jackrabbiting against your ribs. You're aware that the person is talking to you again. You're aware of the barbed wire that's wrapping around your lungs and tightening. Tightening.

Keep quiet.

---

When Raph lifts his head to look at you, he freezes.

Something is… very, very wrong.

Your eyes are glossy, the faraway look causing alarm bells to blare in his head. You're not even blinking. Silent tears start to track down your face, and when he realizes how tense you are under his touch, he pulls away immediately. Raph says your name, tentative and quiet, and when you don't react, that's when he really truly starts to panic.

He says your name again, a little louder. You don't respond. Again. His hand hovers in the air between you, unsure and confused and fuck, what happened? What did he do? What does he do?

Carefully, he tries to take your limp hand in his. The moment he makes contact with your skin, you whimper and jolt back against the door in a full-body flinch. He yanks his hand back and watches in horror as you start to visibly tremble. The sight actually makes him nauseous, has him backing away from you and trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible.

What happened?

Are you… are you actually scared of him? The thought lodges his heart in his throat. Has his chest aching with something like betrayal, but no that… doesn't actually make sense?

“I'm not gonna hurtcha, sweetheart. You know that right?”

You don't respond. God, what has he done?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You probably didn't want him to touch you like that. He went too far too quickly. You- you probably want him to go and are too scared to say- but he's stuck! You're blocking the door! He can't- he doesn't want to move you so he can leave, but he doesn't want to keep scaring you, but he- but, but no, it still doesn't make sense. If you were actually scared of him, you wouldn't have been- this whole time with- what the fuck is going on?

He's stuck. Well and truly stuck. He can't talk to you, he can't touch you, he can't give you any more space than he already is. He's terrified, terrified, of making things worse.

So he waits.

---

Awareness returns to you slowly, and control returns even slower. It burns when you blink. Your muscles ache, exhaustion weighing you down like chains. It's harder than it should be to raise your hand and wipe at your eyes, to keep yourself standing upright.

You realize all at once what happened, and the mortification of it happening in front of Raphael has you covering your face in hot shame.

Wait. Raph. Where..?

You lift your head from your hands to look around the room. When you spot him, your heart clenches painfully in your chest. He's sitting in the furthest corner of the room, hunched in on himself, his arms circled around his knees and his head ducked low.

Making himself small.

You swallow, trying to shake away the fog in your brain enough to go to him. Your legs feel like jelly, but you manage it without falling. When you kneel and place a hand on his arm, his head jerks up in surprise, and you see that he's been… crying.

He's talking before you can open your mouth, each word a knife between your ribs, each break in his voice taking the knife and twisting.

“I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I know that I'm- I guess I just thought- I'm sorry. I went too far, I didn't- I shoulda- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry-”

“Hey,” you croak, wincing when he flinches at your wrecked voice. “No, Raphie. No. That was… not your fault, okay? It's a me problem. I should've told you- uh. There's just certain things that can…” You sigh, not yet thinking clearly enough to have this conversation.

You mentally kick yourself. You should've told him before it ever became an issue, but. When people find out, they… look at you differently. You wanted to hold onto that normalcy a little longer. Put it off just a little more. But the look in his eyes - confusion, fear, regret - it hurts to see. Hurts to know that this could've been avoided if you'd sucked it up and warned him, told him the things that set you off from the beginning.

You're too tired to think straight. Still shaking. But you know he deserves an explanation.

“Can we… can we just…” Brain fog. Hell man. Focus, come on. Your hand on his arm tightens. “I'm not scared of you. I love you. I love you so, so much. It's not that you- I mean I- I promise I'm going to explain, but right now I…” The tears threaten to spill over again, and the frustration tangles in your chest like so much fishing line. You're fucking this up, you know you are. You really need to sleep. To get to a point where your brain can actually do its job. Are you even making any sense? Is he going to get fed up with you and- no, stop. Stop it. Raph is still staring at you, waiting, waiting. You try again. “I just need some time. Then I can explain. Okay?”

Raph's lips thin, his brows pinching together as he watches your face. He looks like he's in agony as he does so, but he unfurls a bit. Slowly, carefully, he reaches his hand toward your face. It stops just before he makes contact, and the hesitancy, the worry that radiates off of him, compels you to lean forward and press your cheek into his palm. Your tiny smile seems to bolster him, and after a moment he speaks.

“Whatever you need. Anything, okay? Anything.”

You close your eyes, raising a hand to press against the back of his hand cradling your face. He's so… tender. It makes the tears spill over again, makes something snap in your chest like a rubber band pulled too far. Your body flashes hot with embarrassment as you dissolve into ugly, keening sobs, but when you lean toward Raphael he's quick to wrap you in a gentle embrace.

He holds you close, letting you weep into his plastron and hold onto him tightly. He doesn't move a muscle, doesn't shush you, doesn't say anything at all. It's unusual for him, but then you realize. He's still terrified of doing whatever it was that set you off again. The thought has you surging up to wrap your arms around his neck, and he lets you. You try to tell him you love him again. It comes out barely intelligible, but he understands you anyway.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. After a long moment, he continues. “No matter what, okay?”

Your throat feels like it's stuck in a vice. Like you couldn't possibly push past it to speak. Somehow, you do. “Okay.”

---

-

You've noticed that Raph has a lot of scars. They all do, really, but Raph's scars are many, and they're everywhere. His arms, his face, his shell - everywhere you look, you see scars. So many, and still… you find him so, so beautiful.

"What're you looking at?" His voice makes you jolt. It's gruff. Defensive. A little… sharper than you're used to when he speaks to you.

You weren't trying to stare, and you'd never want to make him feel uncomfortable. You want to tell him that, but you can't make yourself speak for some reason. Instead, you reach out, tracing your finger lightly along one of the deeper scars on his arm and hoping he can feel what you could never explain with words.

He tenses at your touch, eyes widening and lips parting, and it's only when you pull your hand away that he seems to relax again.

He didn't understand. That's probably your fault.

"Sorry,” he says, still gruff, but more somber this time. His eyes flick down to the scar you'd traced before looking back up at you. “I know they're ugly.”

That makes you pause, and you have to push yourself to speak around the lump in your throat. “You… You think scars are ugly?”

He huffs, but there's no humor there. You watch his eyes harden again, his shoulders hunch as he looks anywhere but at you. “Well they sure ain't pretty.”

…Oh.

You had thought that maybe, if anyone could, maybe it would be Raph who might not be bothered by that kind of thing. When you'd seen his scars, seen how many he had, and still found him so, so beautiful, you'd hoped, at least, that he might… be able to see you as beautiful, too.

Apparently not.

You feel your throat close up. Your eyes start to burn. The air shifts between the two of you, and he must sense it because suddenly he's staring at you. You can't look back at him. You can't do it. If he knew, if he saw, he would be… repulsed.

They sure ain't pretty.

“I have to go,” you whisper, quickly striding toward the exit of the lair. Part of you wants him to call after you. Chase you, maybe. Ask why it matters.

Hm.

-

Maybe it's because you haven't been sleeping much lately. Actually, it could be that you haven't been doing a very good job of taking your medicine consistently. Yeah, maybe- but you've only missed a few doses. Work is stressful, sure, but that's nothing new.

Whatever the case, it's 5:00 in the afternoon, and you've yet to drag yourself out of bed. Not because you've actually been resting, no, but there's just... something weighing you down. Something holding you here that you can't name or explain very well.

You consider reaching out to one of the guys. They always make you feel better - at least, until you say something stupid and ruin your own mood. But you... you don't really want to be around anyone right now. Especially them. They haven't seen you like this. At least not when it's been this bad. No, better to wait it out, you think. Wait until you can actually make yourself smile. Wait until you can at least act like a normal person.

You feel like you've spent most of your life waiting.

Your phone buzzes shortly. An email, maybe. Or some random app notification. You don't care enough to check.

You feel gross. Maybe a shower would help. But if you're going to shower, then you might as well work out a little first. That's supposed to help, too, or so you've heard. Hasn't yet, but maybe it's the kind of thing you have to do over the course of several months? Or maybe you're just... doing it wrong.

Sometimes it feels like you do everything wrong.

You sigh and roll over, staring at the light filtering into the room through your curtains. For some reason, you wish it was darker outside. This feeling, whatever it is, when it's dark out, it feels... well, not better, exactly, but. Easier? No, that's not right either. More understandable? You don't know. But you wish it was darker all the same.

Surely there's something you can do to feel better. It's been months of this feeling, though, with very little reprieve, despite everything you've done to try and push through it. Trying to keep a positive attitude. Trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to distract yourself and take steps to avoid isolation when things get dangerous. Trying, trying, trying, that's all you ever do is try. You're tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of pretending that you're h-

Crying again. You're not sure why you started. You're not sure why you can't stop.

You wonder if Raph ever feels like this. If he ever has days where it feels easier to stay down. Probably not. He's never been one to stay down - not in the time you've known him, at least. He'd probably be able to push through this like it's nothing. He'd probably be disappointed in you for not being able to-

No. You're being overly critical again. Putting sentiments in other people's heads when you've got no evidence that that's what they think. You can't possibly know what Raph would think unless you actually ask him - and that's certainly out of the question.

Still. Maybe you could... text him. It would distract you for a little while, at least, from the gaping maw that is your chest.

You roll over again and reach out, fumbling with your phone. Shaky hands. You should eat.

Maybe later.

You swipe away the notifications that have gathered. Nothing of importance, you note. No one's messaged you. The emails are all spam. Just a bunch of random shit, like you expected.

A voice in the back of your head whispers that if Raphael wanted to talk to you, then he would have messaged you first. You push the thought away, reminding yourself that relationships are a two-way street. And just because someone hasn't reached out doesn't mean they don't want to talk to you at all.

Still. Your thumbs hesitate after opening the text thread you've got with him. You... don't even have anything to say. Not really. There's nothing you feel like talking about, you just- you just want-

You don't know what you want.

You lock your phone and toss it to the side. Maybe you'll message him later.

-

They've got you tied up too well. You can't pull away, can't do anything but strain against the ropes uselessly. Your shoulders are already sore from the way your arms are secured behind your back. Your thighs are bound to your calves, so even if you did manage to pull away you wouldn’t be able to run. 

You can't stop shaking. You don't know why that fills you with so much shame.

The one behind you presses a kiss onto your shoulder. You lean away from him as far as you can, but he’s got you sitting in his lap and he’s perched on the edge of the bed, so you can’t go far without falling face first onto the dirty carpet of the motel room. Regardless, his hand curls around your jaw, tilting your head back and pulling you flush against him. He holds you there, your arms stuck between your back and his front, the back of your head pressed uncomfortably against his shoulder. Your skin crawls at the feeling of his lips against your neck, but when you squirm it only makes him hum into your skin appreciatively.

You try to remember what the guys have told you about being in this sort of situation, but… there’s only bits and pieces. Honestly, you hadn’t thought you would ever be in this sort of situation, despite their warnings. Despite Raph’s warnings.

You should’ve listened a bit more carefully. Then again, you woke up here. You don’t remember how you ended up with these guys, so… you don’t know what you could’ve done to avoid this. 

“Pretty, isn't she?” the one behind says.

“Too pretty to be a mutant's slut, that's for sure.”

Your eye is drawn to the one who responded, the tall blond that’s been rummaging around in the duffel bag on the opposite bed. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and something about his voice - something you can’t put a name to - makes alarm bells sound in your head. Then he turns, and when you see what he’s holding your blood turns to ice.

A small remote. And a video camera.

The blond steps toward you, fiddling with the buttons on the remote and muttering something you can’t parse over the harsh breathing in your ear. The vibrator they've strapped to you turns on suddenly, and when you jolt and gasp the one behind you laughs, his breath hot against your neck. 

The blond towers over you, pointing the camera down at your face where it’s still held in place by the grip on your jaw. You can see the little red light that means it’s recording. “What was the freak’s name again?”

“Raphael,” the one behind says, a smile in his voice.

“That's right. Say hello to Raphael, baby. We're sending him a copy of this when we're through.”

Your eyes widen at that, and the blond huffs in amusement. He says something else, but you don’t catch any of it, too busy thinking about the fact that Raphael is going to see you naked and tied up in the arms of another man, he’s going to see whatever happens here, he’s going to see and hear and he’s going to-

The one behind you releases your jaw. He shifts you in his lap and holds your legs open, and the camera is aimed at the place between your legs. You can’t help the small “no” that slips from your mouth, the instinctual spasm of muscle as you try in vain to close your legs. 

“Don’t worry, pretty thing,” the blond says, reaching out his free hand to trail his fingers along your inner thigh. You’re still shaking. You hope it’s not visible on the camera. “We’re gonna have some fun.” 

No no no no no no no.

Your body flashes hot as your breathing picks up, as your eyes start to burn with tears. The blond makes a fake sound of sympathy before pushing two fingers inside you. The sudden, sharp pain makes you choke on an inhale, and you can’t help but whimper and squirm as he starts to pump them in and out. 

Fuck. Fuck. It hurts.

“Just like that,” he mutters. “Let him hear what we’re doing to you.” Your mind races, trying to think of something you can do. There has to be something. You can’t let them win. (Haven’t they already, though?) Maybe you can just- you can just try to minimize the impact of it all somehow. Yes, okay. You can do that. 

You press your lips together, trying to keep quiet. Trying to keep still. The blond must catch on, because he makes another sound - this one of disappointment - before he pulls his fingers out of you and stares down at you with a blank face. 

You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want to look at the camera that’s now aimed back at your face. You don’t want to look at anything in this dingy motel room, actually - so you close your eyes and try to imagine that you’re anywhere but here. There’s shuffling. Movement. You think of the last time you saw the guys. Game night. You’d won almost every time, and Leo had been so-

The clink of a belt shatters that thought. Your eyes fly back open to see the blond pull out his cock, already hard and leaking. He tilts his head at you, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smile, and aims the camera back between your legs. Your eyes grow impossibly wider and you open your mouth, but before you can speak he shoves his entire length inside of you in a quick thrust. You can’t help the scream that claws its way out of your throat - or any of the sounds that come after as he starts to pump in and out, in and out, in and out. 

You’ve never felt pain like this. Burning, sharp, raw - it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much more than you could ever have imagined. And everything, every sensation, it’s too much. The hands palming at your chest, the lips on your neck, the constant painful drag as this stranger fucks you, the vibrator that does nothing to make any of this feel remotely good. Too much, it’s all too much. It hurts. It hurts, and you can’t stop crying, and Raphael is going to see this.

“Such a pretty little thing,” the one behind you murmurs into your neck. His breath ghosts along your skin, making you shiver with disgust; it smells of cigarettes and rot. “Bet she’s nice and tight, yeah?”

The one with the camera groans, thrusting into you faster. His voice is low and breathy when he speaks again. “If she comes on my cock that means she likes it, right? How would that feel, Raphael? Knowing that I made your little whore come for me?”

“Please,” you whimper. “Please stop.”

A hand presses over your mouth. “Shhh, it's okay, baby. We're gonna take care of you. And when we're done, the rest of the dragons will get a turn while we wait for loverboy to get his little gift.”

The words take a moment to sink in, but once they do your panic skyrockets. They're laughing, god, they're laughing while your heart threatens to beat right out of your chest, while this fucker's dick spears into you like a knife. It hurts. You can't focus. You can't think. You can't breathe.

You actually can't breathe, you realize belatedly. The one behind has your mouth and nose completely covered. Your struggling renews, more frantic this time, and again you hear laughter. Your pulse is a rapid, wild thing, and the pressure in your lungs, in your head, is all you can focus on. Your lungs are burning. Fuck, your head is going to explode. Maybe it already has, with these white dots sparkling in your vision. You keep trying to pull away, to move your head so that you can get even a tiny bit of access to air, but it's useless. Everything hurts, and they're laughing, and you can't fucking breathe. 

Are they… they're going to kill you. They're actually going to kill you, on camera, and then they're going to send the video to Raph while the rest of the Purple Dragons do whatever they want with your fucking body, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 

You're going to die. You're going to die. You're-

The hand finally releases your face, and you gasp for air, desperately filling your lungs with blissful, sweet oxygen at last. They're still talking, but you can't make out the words. You can't. You can only focus on breathing, barely conscious of the pathetic wheezing sobs that are punching out of your chest. 

There's a rough tapping against your cheek. The one fucking you, he's talking to you now. You try to focus on what you're seeing, what you're hearing. The blond. He's talking to you. Focus. 

“-nt to breathe, baby? Huh? Alright, you get one: I'll let you breathe or I'll stop fucking you. Your choice.”

That's not a choice, you think blearily. He's just trying to get a rise out of Raph. He'll say something about how you want this, since you asked to breathe. 

Fuck that. 

You know you're going to regret this. You know. But suddenly rage swells in your chest and-

“I want you to stop fucking me, you piece of shit.” Surprise blooms across his face right before you spit in it, glaring with everything in you as he looks down at you in shock. A second passes, then his shock is replaced by fury as he wipes the spit from his cheek. 

He slaps you so hard your ears ring. The force jerks your head to the side, but then there's a hand covering your mouth and nose again. It's him, this time, and he pounds into you with renewed vigor. 

“You're getting fucked either way, princess,” he snarls. “You should've been smart and taken the out.” 

The seconds feel like hours as your lungs burn. Your torso spasms, the muscles in your arms struggling uselessly against the restraints. More laughter. More talking. He's still fucking you so hard your entire body is jolting with each thrust, but other than that you can't make sense of anything through the panic and the burning and the constant, desperate need for air. 

You're on the verge of passing out, you're sure, when they let you breathe again. Dizzy, exhausted, you beg for them to stop. Your own voice sounds garbled and strange. You don't even care what you sound like, everything fucking hurts. 

Again, his hand covers your mouth and nose. Again, you feel as if you’re dying. Again, he waits until you’re sure you’re going to die before he lets you breathe.

Pathetic, you hear, but you aren't sure if that's them or your own mind. 

Talking. He’s talking to you again. You try to focus, but you can’t. 

The hand returns.

On and on and on, again and again and again. Everything is awful, everything hurts, and sometimes you’re breathing, but most of the time there’s just the burning burning burning in your lungs, in your core, in your everything, everywhere, it’s too much and it hurts and you just want it to stop.

At some point the men switch. At some point they switch back. At some point you’re lifted, then placed onto the bed on your back. 

You can breathe, though, and that’s what matters. 

There’s more talking. Everything is blurry. Everything hurts. Too much. It’s too much. You can’t. Stop. Shaking.

Focus. Focus. 

The blond hovers over you, thrusting lazily into you. Where is…? You let your head fall to the side and see him. The other one. He’s sitting on the opposite bed, now in charge of filming, apparently. A hand grips your jaw, turning your face back toward the one hovering over you. “You keep your eyes on me, slut,” he says in a low voice. “Keep your eyes on me and I’ll let you breathe this time, okay?”

You don’t get a chance to respond.

Several things happen at once. First, there’s a loud BANG, accompanied by more light spilling into the room. Next, you see a weapon lodge itself directly into the neck of the man above you with a disgusting, wet sound. You have just enough time to recognize the weapon as a sai before the blond releases your jaw, reaching for his own neck. His hands hover in the air, unsure. It’s as he’s staring into your eyes - his face growing redder by the second, his torso spasming, guttural, wheezing sounds coming from his throat - that you realize the irony.

He can’t breathe.

More sound to your left. There’s a blur of movement that you can’t make sense of. You can’t tell what’s happening - and then suddenly the blond is gone. You don’t even know where he went, but he isn’t on top of you anymore. He isn’t inside of you anymore. There’s a series of thuds. Grunts. Visceral crunches and the sound of splatters and- you don’t know, you don’t know, you can’t tell what’s happening.

“Raph, enough!”

Raph. Raph is here. And Leo, too, that’s who said that. You try to look around, but you… can’t. You can’t get your muscles to cooperate. You can only let your head fall to the side, and you see the man’s body sprawled on the opposite bed. Not the blond, the other one. His… his head. It’s gone. Blood is spraying out of his neck in spurts, soaking into the sheets of the bed, and you don’t know why, you don’t know why, but you feel like you can’t breathe again. 

You close your eyes, but it does nothing to erase the sight of the decapitated man. He’s still got the camera in his hand. 

There’s more talking. This time, though… it’s familiar. Arguing, sure, and pretty much yelling rather than talking, but still. The sound of it helps you to breathe a little slower. 

Someone says your name. Soft, and sad, and quiet. You open your eyes to see Donnie’s face, his eyes wide and worried. What is he worried about? Maybe you can help.

Oh. Right. 

What’s wrong with you?

You try to smile at him, but his expression twists into something that makes your smile drop. You feel more than see him releasing you from the restraints. The relief in your sore muscles is overwhelming, but… you’re feeling a bit strange, actually. “Donnie,” you whisper. “What’s wrong with me?”

He responds, but you… aren’t sure what he said. You can’t keep your eyes open. That’s odd, right? Maybe you should be… more worried about that. 

“Where’s Raph?” you ask. 

You don’t know what the words are, but you hear Raph’s response. He’s here. He’s here, and… it’s going to be okay now. It’s going to be okay now. Right?