drowninghell

[drowninghell]

Hey, I really love your work ❤️, I have a bit of a long one, and I'm sorry it's so longwinded, but I would really appreciate it if you did something with it. It's like an AU zombie universe but the future of the bayverse world they get transported to. So they get transported to the future where there are zombies, they go around a bit discovering and surviving, thinking its a different reality, when its actually the future, when they run into reader. Reader absolutely freaks out, and they think its because the fact they are mutant turtles. Then, future raph comes in because he's concerned for the reader, who is his best friend. He was upstairs, and she was downstairs in this house they were looking for supplies in. They are all surprised and shocked, and they get taken back to their base. A bunch of people live there, as the turtles kind of run somewhere like alexandria from the walking dead, and they meet future mikey, who is in charge of the gardens and farms and also a solider protecting this place and he has a one month old baby and a wife, future donnie who's a medic and is in charge of all the technical stuff while also ofc being a protecter and he has a wife that died and has adopted a kid whos 10 from the apocalypse, he could have a situationship going on or something like that. Future raph is a forager and has a gf for 2 years. All the turtles look older and worn down by the apocalypse, like, for example, raph is missing an arm. The present-day turtles find out that the reader was Leo's wife, who died protecting her and their adopted son, who's 4 now. Spliter died fighting the zombified shredder who bit him as the foot base was overrun by zombies. The rest is for interpretation but just like them living in the apocalypse with their future self while reader and their son feeling strange about the situation as leo died, and sort of treat leo like their husband/dad while also realizing it's not him. All the turtles are still ofc still grieving the loss of their brother, but Raph takes it the hardest and leo made them all promise to do everything to protect the reader and their son. Just mostly consisting of the turtles living the zombie apocalypse with their future selves and future partners, mainly focusing on reader and leo. Maybe it ends with the turtles going back to the Present and reader tells leo that he will meet his own present day reader, maybe some sort of scene where he recognizes a much younger version and rescues them.

A/N: Thank you so much for the compliment; it means a lot to me! 😊

I love writing horror, so I maaay have gone a bit overboard with the details/set-up for this request 😅 I really hope you enjoy it, anyway!

The Promise He Carries (angst/horror)

💙 Bayverse Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

CWs: Post-apocalyptic future setting, descriptive violence, blood/gore, zombies (including an implied child), grief/loss themes, major character deaths mentioned, attempted mugging, hopeful (for the most part) ending. All characters are aged-up.

One moment, the four turtle brothers are in the lair.

In the next, reality lurches. Colors bleed into nauseating streaks, the world warping, tearing away with a force that feels like being turned inside out. Then, it snaps back like a rubber band, flinging them down hard onto cracked pavement.

Heat presses in, thick and dry, the air heavy with the metallic reek of bloodshed and the cloying sweetness of rot. Towering skyscrapers stand skeletal against the sky, their windows dark. Cars lie overturned, tangled with the weeds reclaiming the broken asphalt.

Worse yet, an unnatural stillness blankets the city.

“Whoa, dude,” Mikey breathes in the oppressive quiet. “This place gives me the major creeps. Feels like a horror movie set gone way too real.” He sniffs the air. “And it smells like—”

“—something died here,” Leo finishes, cutting Mikey off before he can make an ill-timed joke. “A lot of somethings, maybe.” He scans his surroundings, his hands instinctively going to the hilts of his katanas.

Raph’s gaze sweeps over the ruined storefronts, his eyes narrowed. “Just focus, Mikey. Something feels way off.”

Donnie is already scanning the desolate landscape. “The ambient energy signature is highly unusual. Fluctuations are consistent with temporal displacement. Perhaps a tear in reality? Or spatial distortion.” He drops to one knee, examining a chunk of rusted metal. “Judging by the corrosion, it seems this place has been abandoned for a significant amount of time. Logically, this suggests …”

“Suggests what, Donnie?” Leo prompts impatiently.

“Suggests this is another dimension,” Donnie replies, pushing up his goggles as he stands. “A different reality.”

Mikey shivers, despite the heat. “Abandoned? More like apocalypse-ed. Look!” He points a trembling hand towards a toppled newsstand.

Raph goes over to it and picks up the paper. The headline, barely legible beneath layers of grime, sends a wave of unease through him. “Plague Sweeps City,” he reads aloud. “Military Retreats; NYC Declared Lost Cause.”

Mikey takes an involuntary step back, bumping into Leo. “P-plague? Like, zombie plague?!”

“The term is vague. It could refer to a multitude of infectious agents,” Donnie says. “However, given the pervasive signs of rapid decay and the complete absence of observed lifeforms—”

“Not helping!” Mikey practically squeaks.

Leo straightens, his gaze sharp and focused. “Okay. So, we’re in an alternate New York that got hit by some kind of apocalypse plague years ago. Great. Just great.” He points towards the nearest intact-looking building—a sturdy, brick-built library, its windows dark but mostly unbroken. “We need cover and a defensible position. Let’s move. And Donnie—keep scanning for energy signatures, life signs. Anything.”

“Way ahead of you, Leo,” Donnie murmurs.

Raph takes point, sai drawn, muscles coiled tight as he leads them towards the library entrance. The heavy oak doors are scarred but still hang on their hinges. “Locked,” he grunts, testing the handle.

“Allow me,” Donnie steps forward, pulling a device from his belt. He fiddles with the lock mechanism for a moment, before a soft click is heard, too loud in the stillness.

Raph pushes the door open, revealing an interior shrouded in shadow and thick with the musty smell of decaying paper. Dust motes float in the shafts of sunlight piercing through the dirty windows. Books lie scattered across the floor, shelves are overturned, and there’s broken furniture.

“Clear?” Leo whispers, peering into the gloom.

Raph nods slowly, scanning the immediate area. “Looks clear for now.”

They step inside, the door swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

“Okay,” Leo says, his voice hushed but firm. “Donnie, see if you can get any systems online, find out more about this ‘plague’. Raph, secure the entrance. Mikey, check the surroundings. Stay close.”

While Donnie moves towards a computer terminal near the main desk and Raph wedges a broken table leg under the door handle, Mikey edges along a row of overturned bookshelves. He runs a hand along the spines, over the thick layer of dust coating them.

“Man,” he says to himself. “Talk about overdue library books …”

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic clatter echoes from deeper within the library stacks.

All four brothers freeze. Raph whirls around, weapons ready. Leo draws a katana while Donnie pauses his work, turning towards the sound with his staff extended. Mikey, meanwhile, flattens himself against a bookshelf, eyes wide. Another sound follows—a wet, dragging noise, accompanied by a low moan.

And it’s getting closer.

Leo raises a hand, fingers splayed. Hold. Raph remains still, sai gripped so tightly his knuckles are practically white. Donnie’s head whips back and forth, his goggles feeding him thermal and motion data. Mikey, still plastered against the bookshelf, doesn’t dare to move.

Then it lurches into view from behind a fallen stack of books.

It was human. Once. Now, its gray skin stretches like brittle parchment over jutting bones, slick with patches of oozing fluid. Twisted into an unnatural angle, one leg drags uselessly, scraping with each movement. Milky, cataract-filmed eyes somehow fix on their general direction.

“Shit,” Mikey breathes, his voice barely a squeak; he’s watched enough horror movies to know what that thing is.

Raph lets out a low growl. “What is that?”

“Biological entity confirmed,” Donnie reports, his voice low. “Minimal life signs, erratic neural pattern. Reads as highly aggressive. A zombie?”

The creature takes a shambling step, then another, its dragging leg catching on a pile of scattered pamphlets. It stumbles, its moan hitching into something almost like a pained snarl, before it rights itself. Its jerky movements pick up speed, launching into an uncoordinated but determined lurch towards them.

“Not exactly the welcoming committee,” Leo mutters grimly. “Alright team, tactical—”

He’s cut off by another moan, echoing from the shadowy depths of the periodical section to their left. And then a third, a wet, rasping cough that sounds disturbingly close, from the nonfiction stacks to their right.

“Multiple hostiles!” Donnie calls out.

The first zombie is almost upon them now, its arms reaching, fingers tipped with cracked, yellowing nails.

“No time for tactics!” Raph bellows, surging forward. “Just bash ‘em—and don’t get bit!” He slams into the zombie’s shoulder, but it barely seems to register the impact as it swipes clumsily with surprising speed. Raph dodges back, aiming for the creature’s limbs, wary of whatever contagion it carries.

Leo moves instantly to Raph’s flank, katana slicing down in a precise arc, severing one of the zombie’s reaching arms at the elbow. It doesn’t scream, just continues its forward momentum, the severed limb falling to the dusty floor with a wet slap.

“Gross! So gross!” Mikey yelps, scrambling backwards towards Donnie near the main desk.

Another shambling figure emerges from the stacks on the right, this one smaller, perhaps once a child, moving with the same jerky gait.

“Donnie, status!” Leo calls out, parrying another clumsy swipe from the first zombie while keeping an eye on Raph and the emerging threats.

“Working on it!” Donnie yells back, tapping furiously at the terminal with one hand while using his staff to fend off the smaller zombie attempting to flank Mikey. “I can’t access anything! The system is ancient and mostly offline!”

The smaller zombie, ignoring the defensive sweep of Donnie’s staff, lunges past it with surprising agility, snapping its rotten teeth inches from Mikey’s retreating ankle.

“Eeep!” Mikey shrieks, scrambling backwards for a moment before adrenaline takes over, whipping out his nunchaku. “Get back, you freaky little ghoul!” He brings his weapon down hard, connecting solidly with the side of the zombie’s head.

It stumbles sideways, its jaw hanging loose and askew, fluid dripping onto the floor—before it recovers with unnatural speed, turning its blank gaze back towards him.

“Whoa, persistent!” Mikey remarks, swinging again—this time aiming for a sharp, decisive blow at the zombie’s temple. The impact sends it crumpling to the ground, finally motionless beside a scattered pile of poetry books.

Mikey pants, staring down at the small, still form. His eyes dart towards Leo and Raph, who are still battling the larger, one-armed zombie, dodging its clumsy but powerful lunges. Then his gaze flicks nervously towards the shadowy aisles, where the dragging sounds and low moans are definitely getting louder. Closer.

“Dudes!” he shouts, his voice tight with panic. “This place is zombie-central! Forget the computers, forget the info! We gotta get the hell outta here! Like, now!”

More shambling figures are lurching into view, their silhouettes framed by the dim light filtering through the tall windows.

“Mikey’s right!” Leo yells, dodging another swipe. He brings his katana up in a swift decapitating stroke. The head thuds onto the floor, rolling before coming to rest against a library card catalog drawer. The body collapses instantly, twitching for a second before falling still. “Donnie, forget the tech! Raph, with me! We need an exit, now!”

Donnie abandons the useless terminal and intercepts another zombie with his staff, knocking its legs out from under it. “Back here!”

“Go, go!” Raph roars, shoving past the downed zombie before barreling towards the corridor Donnie indicated.

Leo follows behind Raph, slicing at any reaching limbs that get too close. Mikey sticks near Donnie, creating a small zone of defense around them as they retreat down the hall. They reach a metal door marked ‘Emergency Exit’. A push bar spans its width.

Raph slams against the bar, and the door flies open with a screech. “Move!” He holds the corridor, watching for the advancing creatures.

Leo shoves Mikey through the doorway, and Donnie follows. “Raph, now!”

Raph disengages, kicking one zombie back into another, sending them flying before diving through the doorway. Leo slams the heavy door shut and looks at the others before darting down the alley, motioning for the others to follow.

“So where to now, fearless leader?” Raph asks as he closely trails his older brother. “Kinda exposed out here.”

“Agreed. Remaining in the open is tactically unsound,” Donnie says. “We still lack essential supplies—clean water, uncontaminated food sources, medical equipment.”

“A place to rest,” Mikey chimes in.

Leo sprints towards a familiar neighborhood. “Then we find what we need and figure out how to get out of this damn nightmare.”

Their search leads them to a promising target: a two-story house, seemingly less disturbed than the surrounding residences. Weeds grow thick and wild in the small front yard, strangling rose bushes that once might have been beautiful. It’s not exactly pristine, but the house might still have supplies worth scavenging.

“Alright, standard sweep,” Leo says, signaling. “Raph, Mikey, take the upper floors. Check every room, quiet as you can. Donnie, you’re with me downstairs. Priority is medical supplies but grab any usable food or water. Alert on any contact, living or … otherwise.” He grips his katanas, ready once more. “Let’s move.”

They enter, silent as a phantom. The air inside is stale, heavy with the scent of dust. Furniture lies askew, cushions slashed, drawers pulled out and emptied. Scavenged before, but perhaps not thoroughly. They move cautiously through the ground floor—before they see a figure crouched low, back towards them, shoving goods inside a backpack.

Human. Alive.

Leo raises a hand, halting Donnie. Then he takes a slow, deliberate step forward, keeping his voice calm. “Hello? We don’t mean any harm. We’re just looking for supplies, too.”

You flinch violently at the sound of his voice and spin around. Your eyes fix on Leo, the color draining instantly from your face. A strangled gasp escapes your lips as you rise, backing away, your hand flying to your mouth. You trip backwards over an ottoman, your gaze locked on Leo like he’s a ghost risen from the grave.

He might as well be.

“Whoa, hey, easy!” Leo says, holding his hands up placatingly. “We’re different, yeah. But we’re the good guys.” He assumes, like always, that the shock stems from their mutated forms.

“No …” You shake your head frantically, tears welling, blurring your vision. “No, i-it can’t be … Leo?” The name is a broken sob.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps pound on the staircase. “Are you alright? Did you find something?”

A figure appears at the bottom of the stairs—and all four present-day brothers freeze.

He’s a turtle. Raphael.

But older, broader, scarred. Deep lines carve paths around his eyes and mouth. Scars crisscross his visible skin. He wears rugged, patched leather and canvas gear—but most startlingly, his left arm is gone, replaced with a crude but functional-looking metal prosthetic.

His gaze snaps from you, now huddled on the floor, to the turtles standing before him. Recognition flickers, then ignites into stunned disbelief, his jaw dropping. He stares—first at Leo. Donnie. Then at the younger version of himself and Mikey. His mind struggles to process the impossible sight.

“What … what in the goddamn hell?” Future Raph murmurs, incredulous, his voice deeper than his counterpart. He then steps protectively in front of you, using his formidable frame to block the others, his glare fixed on them. “Who the hell are you? And how did you get here?”

“We … we got transported,” Donnie stammers, adjusting his glasses nervously. “We were in our lair, and then there was this energy surge. It seems we’ve ended up in another dimension.”

Future Raph lets out a short, harsh laugh devoid of humor. “Dimension?” He shakes his head, a grim, pitying look entering his eyes. “You ain’t in some other dimension. This is home. Or what’s left of it after the world went to shit. You’re in the future. Your future.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of the revelation. Their future—this is what awaits them?

Future Raph sighs, the fight draining out of him. “Alright. Come on, all of you. We’re heading back to base. Looks like we got a hell of a lot to talk about.” He turns back to you, his voice softening fractionally. “You okay?”

You nod mutely, still unable to tear your gaze from Leo. Future Raph offers you his hand, and you take it, letting him help you up.

“This way,” Future Raph says, nodding towards the back door of the house. “Streets are quieter back here, usually.” He leads the way, moving with a practiced efficiency that speaks of years navigating this broken world.

You follow close behind him, still trembling slightly. Your gaze keeps flickering back to Leo, who walks near the rear of the group, his expression a mixture of confusion and determination. Every time your eyes meet his, a fresh wave of shock washes over you.

It’s him, but … not him. Younger. So much younger.

The present turtles trail Future Raph. Present Raph watches his older self intently, taking in the missing arm, the scars, the grim set of his jaw. Donnie scans their surroundings while Mikey stays close to Donnie, his youthful energy completely extinguished.

“So,” Leo starts, his voice low, addressing Future Raph’s broad back. “The future, huh? How… how far?”

“Long enough for things to go sideways and stay there.” Future Raph glances back briefly, his expression unreadable. “About fifteen years.”

You emerge into a narrow alley choked with overflowing dumpsters and rusted fire escapes. Future Raph moves quickly, checking corners before waving everyone on. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the scuttling of unseen things in the shadows and the distant, mournful cry of the wind whistling through broken skyscrapers.

“Where are the others?” Mikey asks quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “Splinter? April? Casey?”

Future Raph’s shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t turn around this time. “Some made it. Some didn’t.” His voice is flat, which somehow makes the words hit harder. “We talk when we get inside. Too exposed out here.”

He leads you through a labyrinth of backstreets and crumbling alleyways, avoiding the wider, more open avenues. You pass skeletal remains of cars, graffiti from the old world, and faded posters. Once, a low moan echoes from a nearby building, causing everyone except Future Raph to freeze, weapons instantly ready.

Future Raph just puts a hand up, listens for a second, then shakes his head. “Moving away. Keep going.”

Eventually, you reach your destination. It’s a fortified section of the city, reminiscent of old apocalypse zombie fiction. High walls, constructed from welded scrap metal, shipping containers, and reinforced concrete encircle several blocks. Armed lookouts patrol makeshift walkways.

And inside, a semblance of a community survives.

Future Raph leads everyone into the command center, a converted warehouse. There, they meet the others.

Future Mikey is leaning against a wall, gently bouncing a tiny, swaddled infant in his arms. He looks older, the perpetual grin replaced by a more reserved, watchful expression. Though a genuine softness illuminates his face as he gazes at the baby. A woman with tired lines around her eyes but a warm smile stands beside him: his wife, Sarah.

Future Mikey’s in charge of the community’s gardens and farms, which are crucial for survival. But his worn combat gear speaks of his other role as a protector. Seeing his younger self, his eyes widen in disbelief, then fill with a profound sadness. He just shakes his head slowly.

In a cordoned-off section brightly lit by LED strips, Future Donnie meticulously cleans a wound on a survivor’s arm in the makeshift infirmary. He’s thinner and moves with an efficient, almost detached professionalism. His tech is a marvel of apocalypse engineering: salvaged computers, solar panels, jury-rigged communication arrays monitoring the perimeter and vital systems.

A quiet girl, around ten years old, sits nearby, drawing: his adopted daughter, Maya. Future Donnie explains that his wife, a fellow scientist he met after the outbreak, died during a supply run two years ago. Rumors suggest a ‘situationship’ with one of the other medics named Elena. Seeing his younger self, a flicker of his old curiosity sparks in Future Donnie’s eyes. But knowing what’s in store for his counterpart quickly overshadows it.

Future Raph puts a hand on the shoulder of a tough-looking woman with short-cropped hair and a kind smile. “This is Cara,” he introduces gruffly, but with underlying affection. “My girlfriend. Two years now.”

Cara offers a curt nod, her expression guarded but not unfriendly. They share a look, a silent communication honed by hardship and nightly watches on the wall.

Then Future Raph gestures towards you. You stand nearby, your four-year-old son now clinging tightly to your leg. He stares curiously at the newcomers—especially Leo.

“This,” Future Raph says, his voice thick with emotion. “This is—was … Leo’s wife. And their son.”

The present turtles reel. Air punches out of Leo’s lungs. He stares at you, then at the boy. His wife? His son?!

“Was?” Present Leo forces the word out, his throat tight.

Future Raph nods slowly, his gaze distant, lost in a painful memory. “Leo … our Leo. He didn’t make it. Died about six months back, protecting his wife and Leon during a breach on the west wall. He went down covering their retreat.” His gaze fixes on Present Leo. “He made us promise—all of us. To protect them. Keep them safe, no matter the cost.”

The grief emanating from the older turtles is palpable. Future Raph seems to carry it the heaviest and most visibly, his usual anger tempered into a deep sorrow.

The younger brothers learn about Splinter, too. How he fell fighting a zombified Shredder after the Foot Clan’s base was overrun in the early days. He took the monster with him, but not before receiving a final, fatal bite that forced their older counterparts to put him out of his misery before he turned.

As for Casey and April, they died years apart. Casey—a decade ago during a breach similar to Future Leo. And April, just shy of five years ago, during a supply run gone wrong alongside Future Donnie’s wife.

With all this information now known, the present-day brothers are determined to find a way back home—and not let their own world turn down this horrific path.

Life settles into a surreal, strange routine.

The present turtles integrate cautiously into the community, learning the brutal ropes of survival in this future. Present Raph joins Future Raph and Cara on foraging runs, learning how to move silently through zombie territory. Present Donnie spends hours with Future Donnie, working to figure out a way back home. Present Mikey works alongside Future Mikey in the gardens, finding a strange comfort in the repetitiveness of cultivation.

Present Leo, on the other hand, walks a tightrope of conflicting emotions.

Leon instinctively gravitates toward him—the one who looks, sounds, and moves so much like the father he barely remembers. He even starts calling Present Leo ‘Daddy.’ Each utterance is a fresh wound for you, and a confusing jolt for Leo.

Present Leo sees the life he could have had, the love he could have shared, shattered by this terrible future. He feels the weight of his future self’s promise; it manifests as an intense, almost overwhelming urge to protect you and the boy. He tries to be there for Leon—playing with him, answering his innocent questions about the ‘before.’ All while navigating the minefield of your grief and his own tangled emotions.

You struggle, caught between the sharp, persistent ache of grief and the presence of a younger version of the man you loved. You find yourself watching him—the way he moves, the cadence of his voice. So familiar, yet so different. But he doesn’t have the weight, the scars, the shared history.

And you sometimes slip, treating him like your Leo. Asking him about things he couldn’t possibly know, catching yourself starting to share a private joke. A memory. Or simply reaching out to touch his arm in a familiar way—before pulling back sharply, the reality that this isn’t him crashing down anew, as if it happened just yesterday.

Your grief is a constant, raw torment.

Weeks turn into a month. Then nearly two.

Future Donnie, working tirelessly amidst his medical duties, pores over the temporal data logged by Present Donnie during their arrival. After cross-referencing reading and residual chronal signatures, they believe they’ve isolated the specific energy frequency. And found a way to replicate the event by creating a controlled, localized burst.

Finally, they can return home.

The future turtles gather with their young selves near the Donnies’ temporal rig. Future Raph claps a heavy hand on Present Raph’s shoulder.

“Keep your head on straight, you hear me?” he advises. “Protect your brothers. Especially him.” He nods towards Present Leo. “Don’t let him be reckless.”

Present Raph can’t help but chuckle softly. “Isn’t that my job—the reckless part?”

Future Raph playfully smacks his head, grinning. “Smartass.”

Future Mikey offers Present Mikey a small, genuine smile. “Find your sunshine, kid. Even when it gets dark. Mine”—he glances towards where Sarah holds their baby, “is worth fighting for.”

Future Donnie adjusts his glasses, meeting his younger counterpart’s gaze. “Knowledge is power, but wisdom is knowing how and when to use it. Don’t let the logic blind you to what matters.” He glances towards Maya, who gives Present Donnie a small wave. “Protect what’s important.”

Finally, Present Leo stands before you. Leon reaches out, holding his hand, and Leo lets him one last time. Tears track silently down your face.

“He loved you all so much,” you say, meaning his future self, though your gaze remains fixed on Present Leo. “He never stopped fighting. For us. For this place.” You crouch in front of your son. “Say bye-bye, sweetie.”

Leon looks up at Present Leo, his small face serious. “Bye, Daddy. Be safe.”

The words twist in Leo’s chest. He kneels too, meeting the boy’s eyes. “You too, little man. Stay strong and listen to your mom.” He stands, his gaze finding yours.

You place a hand on his arm. “Leo,” you say. “When you get back, you’re going to meet her. Me. I won’t—she won’t know what you’ll mean to her, what she’ll mean to you. But you’ll find her. Keep her safe. Keep yourself safe.” You pause, before continuing, “Don’t let this happen.”

Leo can only nod, his throat thick with unshed tears.

Once the present turtles are near the pseudo-time machine, Future Donnie adjusts a few things before throwing the final switch. The energy field crackles before reality begins to blur and warm around them. The perpetual stench of decay recedes, replaced by the familiar damp smell of the sewers as they find their footing on concrete.

They’re back. Disoriented, shaken.

And fundamentally changed by the knowledge they now hold from the future they witnessed.

Weeks pass.

Training sessions are more intense. Leo feels the change most acutely. He pushes himself the hardest, the memories of you grieving and Leon’s trusting eyes burned into his mind. He carries the weight of his older counterpart’s sacrifice. The burden of the promise made by his future brothers.

One rainy evening, Leo moves across the rooftops near April’s apartment building. As he patrols, he hears a commotion in the alley below. Two rough-looking men have cornered someone against the brick wall, demanding their bag.

“Just give it to us, and nobody gets hurt!” one snarls, brandishing a switchblade.

Leo doesn’t hesitate. He drops down from the fire escape above, landing almost silently on the wet pavement behind them. “Leave her alone.”

The thugs whirl around, startled by his sudden appearance. The one with the knife lunges. Leo moves with blinding speed, disarming them with practiced ease, sending the weapon clattering harmlessly away. A well-aimed kicked to the man’s chest has him sprawling against the dumpster.

The other sees the writing on the wall and runs away into the night, his partner in crime joining him a few beats later once he’s gathered his bearings—and picked his pride up from the grimy alleyway ground.

Leo turns his attention to the person they were harassing.

You.

Younger, perhaps. Face streaked with rain, clutching a messenger bag protectively. Your eyes are wide, reflecting the dim alley lights. Fear lingers, but there’s also a spark of defiant anger under the surface.

You haven’t seen the end of the world yet. The deep lines of grief haven’t etched themselves around your eyes. You don’t know him.

You stare up at the towering mutant turtle, water dripping from his shell, mouth slightly open in stunned silence. Finally, you find your voice, though a little shaky. “Uh … wow. Thank you.”

Leo looks at you, really looks at you. The woman his future self loved and died for. The mother of their child.

His promise for the future starts now.

“No problem,” he says, his voice softer than usual, tinged with an emotion you can’t possibly understand. Not yet, anyway. “Just … be careful out here. This city can be dangerous.”

He offers a small, fleeting smile, imbued with a sadness that seems out of place. Then, with the same impossible silence he arrived with, he turns and melts back into the shadows of the fire escape, rappelling upwards and disappearing onto the rooftops.

You stand alone in the rain, staring after him, heart pounding, wondering about the melancholy you saw in the eyes of the giant turtle who just saved your life. A strange feeling settles over you, a sense that something significant just happened.

Though you couldn’t possibly guess what.

[drowninghell]

Does anybody have any recommendations for long tmnt fics slowburn , preferably Leo/ Raph/ Mikey in the bayverse / 2007/ last ronin universe I feel like I’ve searched everywhere 🥲