#ghost and hollow are named after one simple word that describes them somewhat

[lyss-butterscotch]

Do you have lost kin gijinkas?

I do and they get to live <- delusional everyone gets to live AU maker

[moxfirefly]

This comes as result of an idea and going through some hard times as of late. The reader here has their issues but hey we aren’t inherently perfect and I like getting into that mindset and seeing what comes up. So consider this somewhat introspective piece when a ‘relationship’ maybe isn’t the best.

Mikey x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature/Angst/Feels (18+ Only)

“I am human and I need to be loved”

A lifespan isn’t enough to understand that love is a complicated emotion. It’s addicting caress can remain in ones soul for ages. Love is kind they say, but what of those moments where it’s not? When the heart strangles itself and you choke on desperation?

Love isn’t perfect, that very imperfection glued us to those we worship. That hurt can be addicting as well.

He’s aware of it, he knows that his innocence only hides a questioning.

Because Mikey has gotten so good at hiding those dark parts that linger like shadows in his brain. There’s pain behind that smile, there’s sadness hidden beneath the foundation he’s lain.

You see it, you’re aware of it.

You can’t help but feel ashamed you’re the cause of it.

You want to take ownership of it but every time your mouth opens that tightness in your jaw increases. Before the words can be processed you’re doing most of the speaking with your hands.

And your lips.

Mikey’s never denied you, the thought of rejection paralyzes him so profoundly he aches. But it would be unwise to state there isn’t any trace of doubt. He’s mindful of your distaste for love, that you aren’t a believer. He’s mindful of what cracks inside of him when you flirt your way through the day. He’s at the forefront but he isn’t unwise to the way you linger a hand on Leo’s arm or how your eyes light up when April walks into a room.

Your eyes have that same bright hue when he’s the target. When it’s the two of you and your fingers map out a path on his thigh. It’s so palpable in the air that surrounds the two of you when you suddenly crash into him and swallow his soul whole.

You’re greedy.

The first time you had kissed him he swore there was no way he could verbally describe what erupted inside of him. He remembers it clearly like a fond dream, the way you had pushed him into a darken corner. Your hands on his waist, pink tongue tasting orange crush and sweets.

He had been so shy it had melted you. His hands tentatively resting on hips. Lips merely following your lead. When you had stopped with your lips lingering so closely to his, you had simply giggled and asked him where the night could take you both.

Mikey knows what whiplash feels like, but emotionally this was his first time. He let it go, slowly watched whatever this had meant leave his grasp.

He lets you lead.

You’re so greedy.

He can’t blame you as much as he can blame himself. This isn’t the only time naturally, he could switch the memories like tv stations, often settling on his favorite ones.

He tries to avoid the ones that hurt.

You want to blame life, blame all past events that led you to develop a thick skin. It’s so impenetrable, but the dents are here and there scattered across two decades. Mikey sees the road map of damage, it hides behind your smile and your nonchalant attitude towards the tomorrow. He kinda likes it though, that you can build up a wall for whatever tries to infiltrate your barrier.

He’s addicted to the fact that you allow him in, that your guard goes down when he’s there. Mikey just wishes he had a clearer read, that whatever is happening could have a description a fucking name tag maybe. But soon enough you’re jumping into his open and awaiting arms, pressing yourself so flush against him and whispering how much you just missed him.

Mikey doesn’t miss how you stick like glue to him one particular night. The gangs there, everyone watching some horror flick that Casey had brought over. He can’t keep his eyes straight when you’re so warm next to him, tracing lazy circles on his palm before gripping it like it was some habit.

You were a habit basically, a tick that comforted him and somehow kept him grounded into this plain of existence. It’s a rush of blood to the head. Something that swims inside of his soul, wraps around him like ivy.

You wish it could be simple, to face up and just accept the cards laid out. But you were never one to just take it at face value. Easy just wasn’t in your vocabulary and well, it’s obvious that it’s not in Mikey’s wether by proxy or his own doing.

So when you quietly excuse yourself and feel Mikey’s blue orbs follow you, you obviously text him to come with after a minute or so.

The minute he follows into his and Raph’s room and finds you sitting on his bed with your legs crossed looking pleased as punch, he knows he’s so utterly screwed. Cause he’d do anything to have that image frozen in time and place, just you and that beautiful smile that robs him of thought and oxygen. Even as you beckon him closer with a gleam in your eye that means trouble and a hundred more questions for Mikey to stay up all day and night over.

He follows.

He comes to the foot of his bed and almost overloads when the tip of that beckoning finger runs a path over what would be his navel. Mikey swallows hard, breathing through his nostrils.

It guts you how he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Mikey honest to god admires you like living breathing art. He takes a sharp inhale when you press your face to his clothed crotch and moan at the sensation that greets you. Mikey can’t erase the image of you, looking up at him as you push down his shorts, lust and what he registers might be love in your e/c orbs.

Much less when you take him into your mouth and the heat rushes down your body to your core. Your red cheeks hollowing in and creating such a tightness that Mikey whimpers, one hand gripping the back of your head and the other somehow interlocking with yours. It’s the intimacy of it, with your eyes fluttering closed as you take him as deeply as you possibly can. How his fingers play with yours.

Mikey tries to mumble something coherent out, he wants to tell you that he’s close and he knows it’s proper etiquete to tell you. It’s actually sweet and you almost giggle with a mouthful of him even when you feel nails dig into the back of your head as Mikey tries to not moan too loudly.

The way your throat bobs, lips swollen with a sticky sheen to them. He’s punch drunk, loves struck when he cups your cheeks and kisses you, tasting himself and falling further down into the rabbit hole that’s become the two of you not questioning this.

And god he should question it before his mind keeps running every possible scenario that’s caused this to be so unidentifiable. Because after that night he’s got radio silence from you for four days. He feels like a ghost floating around his brothers, going from motion to motion until he decides to take that step.

He shows up at your apartment, contemplates knocking on that window for fifteen minutes but what can he say? What does he want to ask? What if it drives you and whatever this is away?

He caves, eyes not so bright when you pull apart the curtains and he’s met with the same look he’s been sporting these past few days. You do smile though, that smile that digs nails into his soul. You let him come in, already putting on a mask that fits too perfectly.

“What’s wrong...Are you mad at me?” Mikey asks tentatively like peeling a hangnail. You freeze on your way to the kitchen, looking down at your bare feet like the answer might sprout from beneath them. “Nothings wrong, was just busy is all” It’s a pathetic excuse and not entirely truthful because you’ve been stewing in your apartment knowing full well that the boy behind you has planted roots in your heart.

And it scares the shit out of you.

So you turn, that shield up so high that Mikey notices and the whiplash is hard when you close the distance and wrap your arms around his neck. “What? Miss me that much?” Your scent hits him like a fresh hit to an addict. Four days without the warmth of your skin burning him. Mikey wants to test that shield, destroy it with his bare hands and find the real you in there, he pulls back far enough to look into your eyes and drown in them.

He quietly accepts his fate right then and there, ready to hand over his heart into your hands and watch you squeeze. And you see it all, your chest tight and jaw set, you run a finger across his cheek in such soothing slow motion. You want to tell him that this isn’t worth the heartache and headache, that you won’t come around any time soon.

Instead, you start to strip off his gear, bit by bit, each carefully taken apart. You untie his sweater from around his waist, hands lingering and maping out every detail you want forever engraved in your brain. You grab his hand and put them on you, a silent agreement for him to do the same. Mikey strips you out of your hoodie, finding a sports bra beneath it, eyes glued to new skin as he kneels and hooks his fingers in your shorts and slides them down slowly.

You walk him to your room, hand tightly clasped around his and there’s no hesitation in your steps because you want this and he wants this but every question that’ll come from this will just have to wait. You truly do go about things the wrong way.

The innocent touching makes your heart twist, the way his blue eyes run over you like you’re stolen art and he’s got dibs on it. It’s so sweet, asking his permission with a look to strip you of your bra, to run his hands towards the newly exposed flesh. It guts you so deeply when he pulls you close against him and just holds you, cause it dawns on you that Mikey has never held somebody this intimately. You shiver with the way he circles your back in ghostly touches, just basking in what it feels to feel your skin so close to his.

“We don’t have to do this” ‘I don’t want to hurt you’

“It’s okay, I just...Don’t disappear on me like that please” Mikey feels you tighten your grip on him and it takes every inch of his resolve to not crumble and just say that he loves you, that he’s loved you from the moment you rested your head on his shoulder, from the moments you’ve kissed him and made his head so clouded with questions of ‘If’ and ‘maybe’ but he knows he won’t be met with the same words.

Maybe not now, or simply not at all.

So he holds you close, even as you start to tremble, feeling tears on his shoulder. You can’t say anything, you can’t say a single damn thing.

See I've already waited too long

And all my hope is gone