#mikey you do the same ones each year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

etherealising · 2 months ago

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three | dinner with the berzattos

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | fem!reader x original male character | the bear x fem!reader

summary: you do your best to make the most of the holiday, but instead find carmy is the topic of your conversations. and being under the same roof as him does nothing to help...oh well at least it's almost time for dinner, what more could go wrong?

warning(s): angst | fluff | pining | semi-unrequited love | minimally edited

wc: 6.8k

housekeeping: wowza long time no see! so sorry for just disappearing it was definitely not in my plans but here we are. firstly thank you everyone for sticking by me through all the back and forth of me being gone and randomly coming back. also updates will continue to be sporadic i want to try and post a chapter at least once or twice a month, so this way i can get a backlog going. other than that enjoy this update 🫶🏼

The sound of laughter could be heard through the door of Donna’s bedroom. The two women occupying it caught up with each other like no time passed at all. You were lying on the end of Donna’s bed, elbow propped up so your hand could hold your head up. Tiff was in front of you sitting up slightly from you adjusting her pillows when you first appeared in the room.

“Wait so Richie blew up your mom’s microwave?” The words came out between the laughs that wracked Tiffany’s body. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listened to your account of the story.

You sat up rapidly head nodding to confirm Tiff’s question, “Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and me up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.” You paused as you couldn’t stop giggling at the memory, “He couldn’t find any plates, so he put fucking foil in the microwave, and by the time we got home the house was full of smoke and there were scorch marks on the wall.” You couldn’t help but to lean over clenching your stomach at the belly-aching laugh the memory induced. Tiff doing no better, hand gently cradling her bump as she tried to catch her breath.

Finally getting enough air into her lungs Tiff spoke up, “Wha-What did your mom do?” She searched your eyes waiting to hear your explanation.

Your laughter finally settled down allowing you to finish your story, “Absolutely nothing! My mom was so sweet on Richie he could’ve burnt the house down and she would’ve thanked him for it!” The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.

The two of you finally calmed down sitting in the ambience that a memory from your younger years left behind. Tiff did her best to sit up, careful not to move too quickly in case it induced a bout of nausea. Her hands reached out gently clasping yours in her embrace, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here with us today.” The slight squeeze she sent you helped convey the raw emotion she felt, the small sad smile gracing her lips also doing its best to comfort you.

You nodded, sending a small smile her way, eyes quickly leaving hers to dart around the room, not comfortable enough to see the earnestness in her blue eyes. You cleared your throat trying to ground yourself, “You expect it to get easier, but it always hits the hardest around the holidays especially when I’m not spending it with all of you.” You let out a pathetic little laugh doing your best to not let the gloomy feeling settle over the room.

You squeezed Tiff’s hands back finally finding her eyes again, “Speaking of, I took up one of her traditions and I made something for you, well the baby.” You watched as Tiff let out a quiet gasp, she’d met your mom a handful of times when she and Richie first began dating and the two always bonded over all of the things your mom used to sew and crochet before it became too much for her ailing health. You recalled how she fell in love with the baby blanket your mom made for you when she was pregnant, wishing her relationship with her mom brought forth such love.

Before you could get up to retrieve the present from the car, the bedroom door opened as Hayden let himself into the room. “Well, aren’t you two just a pair of cute gossipers?”

His demeanor made you frown, his posture was more relaxed, words almost slow as he spoke them, and a dopey grin lined his lips as he looked between you and Tiff.

“Are you high?” Your voice was incredulous as you watched Hayden cover his giggles behind his hand, the idea of Hayden being high wasn’t something new to you, he introduced you to recreational drugs in the first place. But seeing him high on Christmas made you realize just how severely he was taking the break-up with Sasha and maybe you were a bad friend because you’d been so cut up about reuniting with Carmy that you hadn’t stopped to think about the facade he was putting on.

Tiff patted the space between the two of you inviting Hayden to join you. Hayden happily clapped his hands together before moving towards the bed, he walked around the foot of the bed and crawled atop it before resting his head in your lap, his mop of hair tickling your legs as his body took up most of the space left.

“Awe, what’s got you so mopey Hay Hay.” Hayden let out a giggle as Tiff used the nickname he randomly earned senior year of high school.

Hayden took a while before answering, something you were all too familiar with when it came to an intoxicated Hayden. He let out a dramatic sigh before beginning to trace patterns into the duvet. “Sasha’s leaving me…but it’s okay I have a new wife already lined up!”

His hand reached up to poke you on the forehead, and the force of it sent your head backward, Tiff gave you a confused look prompting an explanation, and now that you knew who exactly Carmy assumed you were married to you could give a full explanation. “Richie told Carmy Hayden and I were married,” her mouth fell open in a gasp as she nodded “Sounds like Hayden was in on it though.” Your voice held an undertone of annoyance earning a quiet ‘whoopsie’ from the man-child in your lap.

“Wait and he believed him?”

Tiff’s question need only be answered with a single look alone, “He tried to use it as some bullshit excuse against our friendship. Like what the fuck does being married have to do with the two of us trying to be friends again?”

It was almost unnoticeable but you quickly caught on to the look Hayden and Tiff shared between themselves followed by Hayden's giggle letting you know you weren’t in on their secret. “No, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Tiff’s words were uttered around the saltine she began chewing on as she tried to avoid the way your eyes narrowed in on her. “Pregnancy brain?”

“You’re pregnant, not stupid.”

Hayden’s guffaw of a laugh surprised you as his body shook atop yours causing you to shake right along with him. “Oh you naive, silly, stupid little girl,” Hayden took his time sitting up somehow maneuvering his tall frame into criss-cross applesauce in the small space atop the bed, you had no time to object before his hands engulfed both sides of your face and he pressed his forehead against yours. “The kids been in love with you our whole lives, my sweet summer child.”

You scoffed shoving the man off of you as Tiff’s giggles mixed with Hayden’s hysterical laughter filled the room, the man had plopped back onto the bed in a raucous fashion, at least Tiff was trying to hide her amusement.

“One adjective would’ve worked just fine Hayden,” you tossed one of the pillows that fell to the floor at his head, only encouraging his laughter. A huff of annoyance left you as you watched the two adults look at each other conspiratorially once more before deciding to call it quits.

You listened as Tiff tried to get an apology out over Hayden’s laughter as you shook your head trying to keep a strong front but slowly failing. “I’m gonna go get your present…keep an eye on him I guess, please.”

Tiff nodded, waving you off before she spoke in Hayden’s direction, the last thing you heard was your name before shutting the door once more.

You made your way downstairs, laughter and loud voices came from the direction of the living room. Walking to the closet where you knew Carmy put your tote bag you quickly grabbed your keys and debated slipping your coat on before ultimately deciding it wouldn’t be necessary. You could hear Mikey’s voice as you made your way out the door, he and Richie recounting one of their many tales. You quickly slipped through the door making sure it closed behind you to not let any cold air in.

Rushing to your rental you popped the trunk reaching for the Christmas-themed gift bag. You reached up to shut your trunk wanting to hurry and get back inside when your eyes landed on the matte black box sitting there. A matching black bow atop it, the white ink that spelled out Carmy’s name glared back at you.

You let go of the trunk letting out an exasperated sigh. You hadn’t planned on buying him anything, but in the weeks leading up to your flight, you let your anxiety guide you after Nat dropped the bomb that Carmy would be home for Christmas and spent hours scouring the internet for something he might like. Against your better judgment, you closed the trunk, you’d give it to Mikey or Nat to hand off to him, you weren’t in any mood to pretend things between the two of you were okay. The sound of another car door closing caught your attention, Pete made his way towards you from across the street letting you glimpse at the Christmas lights on your childhood home, his hand went up in a little wave to greet you. You smiled, raising your hand holding the car keys to return his greeting.

Deciding to wait for him so you could walk in together, your eyes took in the aluminum tray grasped in his hands, “Oh shit.” The expletive left your lips as Pete finally took his place by your side, his goofy grin drew your gaze, and he balanced the tray in one hand to give you a side hug that you willingly leaned into. “Baby! I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” You snorted at his lame joke considering you were boarding at his house. The two of you began your trek up the sidewalk.

“Oh Pete, your dad jokes never get old, but what’s in the tray?” You nodded your head at the silver rectangle in his hands.

Pete followed your vision before smiling back at you “Tuna casserole! Couldn’t come empty-handed you know.” Pete’s happy-go-lucky energy brought a small smile to your face, and the two of you stopped before entering the house. You turned to him, giving him a serious look before you reached out to gently squeeze his bicep.

“Oh you poor kind soul, they’re gonna fuck you up in there.” The words caused Pete’s smile to falter as you sent him one of your own before walking through the door and holding it open for Pete behind you. As you both walked through the front entrance you caught the tail end of what sounded like a hostile conversation, Pete helping to steal the show by making his presence known. You had half the mind to leave Pete to defend himself, but a part of you would’ve felt bad for letting someone as sweet as Pete take the heat alone. You walked around him sitting on the arm of the chair Mikey was sitting in, his arm moved to wrap around your waist unconsciously.

“You know it’s seven fishes, right Pete?” Mikey’s question drew the rest of the room's attention to the tray Pete was still happily holding. The room burst with voices as almost everyone took turns berating him. You leaned back slightly so you weren’t blocking Mikey’s view before turning your head in Richie’s direction hoping to gain his attention.

You reached behind Mikey’s back to pinch Richie’s arm his eyebrows shooting up an offended look on his features as his head turned to you, “What the fuck was that for Baby? Pete’s the one with the eighth fish.”

You rolled your eyes, palm swatting against the back of his neck, “That’s for letting Carmy think I was married…and to Hayden of all people.” Richie had the decency to look sheepish as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I mean it was funny at that moment.” He raised his hands in surrender as you reached out to pinch him once more.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you maneuvered the gift bag around Mikey’s imposing body before handing it off to Richie, “Merry Christmas Richie, it's for you and Tiff so don’t open it without her,” You scolded, raising your eyebrows to further cement your message. “I know Mom would’ve done the same if she was still here.” You gave him the warmest smile you could muster.

He gently grabbed the gift bag out of your hand, a slight nod sent in your direction as he gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you, Baby, means a lot.” You smiled back quickly, turning back to the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any more unwanted emotions.

Carmy’s voice suddenly broke through the onslaught of shit Pete was being subjected to, “Hey, family. Come on, let’s sit. Okay, dinner’s ready, alright.” Your eyes connected with his baby blues before you quickly looked away playing with Mikey’s fingers as they rested atop your thigh, leaning down when the older man began to whisper in your ear. Missing the way Carmy frowned at the glaringly obvious lack of ring on your finger.

Carmy did his best not to let the sight bother him, it wasn’t any of his business whether or not you wore your ring. Mikey gave him some cryptic ass advice in the pantry earlier about you, that he shouldn’t blindly trust everything he heard and instead should ask you himself, something Carmy tried and failed at doing once already today. The longer he stared at you he couldn’t help but wonder why you and Mikey were so touchy and where the hell was Hayden.

You hadn’t noticed Carmy’s eyes glued to you as you exchanged hushed whispers with Mikey, “Any chance on you and that idiot kissing and making up by the end of Christmas dinner?” Mikey’s words caressed your ears as he allowed you to distract yourself with his fingers.

A small shrug was your only response as you took a moment to gather your thoughts, “I want to Mikey, I do but now that I’ve seen him after all this time, I don’t think I can take just being friends with him anymore.”

Mikey’s quiet sigh rang through your ears as his other hand came to trap yours between his palms and give it a firm squeeze, “Baby.”

He had that tone in his voice again, like he was trying to get something through to you but you were just too stubborn to hear it, or worse you didn’t want to hear it. “Please don’t Mikey…it doesn’t mean anything when its not actually coming from the one person I want to hear it from.” You decided not to tack on the part about the feelings not being reciprocated because you knew it would annoy Mikey.

“I won’t force you to say anything tonight, but you gotta get this over with at some point.” Mikey gave your hand one last squeeze, “Plus m'not into all of that sappy shit but I’m rooting for you fuckin’ idiots.” Mikey let go of your hand before gently knocking his fist against your chin sending a wink your way and earning your quiet giggle.

“Yo Baby, Baby.” Your head shot up, eyes locking on Carmy’s as he called for your attention, “What is that? What the fuck is Pete holding?” You quickly looked at Pete feeling bad that he was on trial before finding Carmy’s eyes again, a small smile spread your lips as you sent a shrug in his direction, not wanting to be the one to rat Pete’s good intentions out.

Carmy nodded, lips pursing as he wiped his hands down his face and turned his attention to Stevie knowing he’d give him a straight answer, “You’re gonna be upset, but his heart was in the right place, Carm…It’s a tuna casserole.” The slight flush you could see creeping up Carmy’s neck indicated the toll this mishap was taking on him.

You leaned into Mikey more, settling into a more comfortable position as you drowned out the rest of Pete’s trial. You were ready for the day to be over and you hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, you could feel your eyes slowly drifting shut as Mikey’s warm body pressed into your side, each rise and fall of his broad chest pulling you into the purgatory before sleep and consciousness.

The sound of Nat’s voice jumping onto the tuna casserole bandwagon roused you from the little peacefulness you were beginning to find, she'd been so dead set on keeping her mom in check you'd only caught glimpses of her throughout the day. You watched with drowsy eyes as she snatched the dish from Pete’s hands presumably disposing of it, you softly gave Mikey’s thigh a pat before removing yourself from your seat with the intention of retrieving your fake husband and Tiff.

You stopped at the threshold of the door sending Pete a small smile, “If it makes you feel better Donna threatened to beat my mom’s ass when we showed up with collard greens and baked Mac n cheese our first Christmas here.” You gave a soft pat to his elbow hoping the anecdote helped him feel a little better.

As you moved to walk up the stairs you stopped to return the car keys to your tote bag.

Carmy stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he found you standing in the hallway, he had half a mind to hide out in the kitchen until you left but knew he’d probably get shit from his mom about it.

He cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he took a few steps forward to lessen the distance between you. His hand raised to scratch the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours as he prepared himself to interact with you, “Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. I-I never got to say it in person but I uh, I’m sorry about your mom.”

You stared at Carmen surprised by the sincerity in his words as though your mom had passed recently, you gave him a small smile trying to dispel the sadness that began to swell up in you, “It's not like you killed her Carm, that's why they call it a terminal illness.”

Carmy’s eyebrows pinched together at your poor attempt at being humorous before he began picking at the loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater. “Did you uh get the flowers and t-the card?”

A small smile lined your lips as you thought back to the gesture before you nodded at him letting him know you received his condolences years ago.

“I uh I tried coming home b-but uh...Mikey fought me on it.”

You nodded as Carmy met your gaze, “I know Carm, I asked him not to let you,” you watched as he opened his mouth to protest. “You’d already gotten out, Carm, I couldn’t bring you back here…you know my mom was really proud of you though, right?” You smiled as his eyebrows raised in surprise at your question, your hand shot out before you thought better of it to grasp his and stop him fiddling with the thread.

A quiet sigh escaped him as your skin made contact with his, Carmy’s hand flexed against your palm letting his fingers gently press against yours as he fought off the urge to lace them together.

“I wanted you there Carm I did, but I was hurt and I didn’t know if I could grieve my mom with you by my side knowing how you felt about me.” Your hand dropped from where it delicately touched him as you sent him a small sad smile.

“Baby I-,”

You cut him off, not in the right mindset to get into whatever he was offering, you took a step back to the staircase creating distance between the two of you. “M’gonna get Tiff and Hayden for dinner, I’ll see you in there.”

Carmen was left alone at the bottom of the staircase, eyes still glued to where you stood just a moment ago. He closed his eyes trying to get a deep breath into his lungs. Carmy was trying to understand how he had ever deserved to have you in his life, he was a grade-A fucking asshole to you, and you were still nothing but kind to him. There were so many things Carmy wished he could do over when it came to you but life seemed to be leading the two of you in opposite directions and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance to redeem himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can call you a cab if you want.” You stood at the top of the staircase huddled against the wall with Hayden. Tiff exited the room ahead of Hayden and kindly let you know that they’d got to talking about Hayden’s pending divorce and that whatever high he was cruising on had taken a drastic turn as the sadness he was trying so hard to hide surfaced.

As you looked at him you could tell he wasn’t doing well, and whether he was having a bad trip or the emotions of his situation were finally beginning to hit him you couldn’t be sure. You reached out for his hand gripping it in yours and giving it a squeeze letting him know you were there for him.

His silence gave you a moment to think. It was surprising how far your relationship had come, the two of you having only met senior year of high school and bonded over your love for literature. Neither of you thought the friendship would blossom into what it was now, but after your falling out with Carmy, in a way, he filled the other man’s spot. Even after everything Carmy put you through you would always consider him your best friend but Hayden was a close second, having helped you during one of the roughest years of your life after your moms passing, he was your rock and you loved him for that. The least you could do now was return the favor and be there for him as much as you could.

Hayden’s hand squeezing yours brought you back to reality as your eyes landed on his face, a small forced smile already waiting. “You worry about me too much.”

You rolled your eyes, raising your eyebrows and imploring an actual answer out of him. He pulled you into a hug resting his chin atop your head, “We sure know how to pick 'em’ don’t we?”

A quiet laugh sounded from you at his words, the noise earned a chuckle from the man pressed against you. “Let’s just enjoy Christmas dinner, yeah.” You felt Hayden’s head move up and down in a nod before he released you and motioned for you to walk down the stairs ahead of him.

By the time you made it to the dining room everyone was seated and the only empty seats were directly across from Carmy so it wasn’t like you had any other choice but to dine with him in your eyeline. You walked in slowly at the commotion as Hayden moved to sit down, your eyes locked with Carmy’s at the same time something aggressively hit your thigh, causing you to wince.

A chorus of “Michael” reverberated around the dining room. You looked down at the sound of metal clanging against metal, one fork was next to your foot another a little ways in front of it. Bending down you scooped the two forks up in your hand. You looked around the table even more confused than you already were eyes darting to Mikey as he threw his arms open in greeting, “Baby! Nice of you and Hayden to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?” Your eyes flashed to the forks in your hand before taking in everyone’s expressions around the table.

You had no clue what you walked into. You looked in Carmy and Nat’s direction, the two of them subtly shaking their heads, Hayden turned in his chair before shrugging his shoulders at you just as clueless as you were. Your eyes found Mikey’s once again a little unnerved by the look in his eyes, “They were just on the floor so I’ll just go wash them off real quick-.”

The sound of palms slamming against the table cut off your explanation causing you to flinch where you stood, eyes still glued to Mikey, “Sorry Baby, I’m sorry,” his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just hand me the forks alright, don't needa wash ‘em off,” You gulped, nodding slowly as you took a few steps in Mikey’s direction. He carefully took them from your grip, and a mocking smile pulled at his lips.

You gave him a small nod quickly retreating to your seat. Quietly thanking Hayden as he helped you to shuffle your chair in. All was silent for a moment as everyone looked at each other, you doing everything in your power to avoid anyone’s eyes. A quiet laugh broke the silence.

“Of fucking course.”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to Lee's zeroing in on the older man, “What did you just say?” The question sounded more like a demand to your ears.

Lee laughed again shrugging his shoulders and turning his head to glare at Mikey, “I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

An echo of “Lee,” and “What the fuck,” could be heard from both Richie and Cicero, one trying to diffuse the situation, the other not settling for the unwarranted disrespect thrown at you. Your head shot up a frown decorating your features as your eyes locked on Carmy’s, he shook his head in a silent plea for you to ignore it and not further feed into the chaos.

You ignored Carmy turning in your chair to face the geriatric old man, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Lee?” Hayden’s fingers began drumming against the table. His stiff posture let you know he was ready for whatever was about to happen after noticing your irritation.

Lee faced you with a sardonic smile pressing into his lips “Is somebody gonna tell her? Do I have to tell her?” He looked around the table looking for anyone to take the reins from him, “I’m sorry that nobody's honest with you sweetheart, but you’re just a glorified lap dog.” He shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “Just a bitch he keeps on a leash.”

Your mouth opened a little bit confused as to how this conversation became a personal attack on you.

The sound of Hayden kissing his teeth silenced whatever rebuttal you had planned. “Watch the way you fucking talk to her.” The calmness of his voice let you know he had the situation handled, not even looking at the older man as he addressed him.

Nat’s quiet call of your name pulled your attention to her. Her eyebrows sat high on her head as she implored you to do something about your guest with one look. You gave her a small nod before turning to try and stop Hayden, ignoring the way Carmy’s eyes followed your every move.

“Oh and you’re her lap dog then I guess!”

Hayden’s humorless chuckle punctuated the air, no one dared to speak, you were surprised to find both Mikey and Richie silent in the moment. “Listen, Lee. I don’t particularly fucking like you, but you’re lucky I respect Ms. Berzatto enough to not ruin the Christmas dinner she prepared for all of us. Now if I gotta beat your ass after dinner, fine by me but whatever animosity you got towards anyone at this table you leave Baby the fuck outta it.”

Lee’s irritated scoff was the only response given as a tense silence fell over the dinner table. Hayden’s hand gave your elbow a squeeze letting you know he was always in your corner.

You felt something hit your foot under the table gaining your attention. You turned to Nat who was keeping an eye on Mikey too worried about him popping off again to be paying attention to you. You felt the nudge again, eyes finding Carmen's, his eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.

The two of you were drawn back to the argument before you as the two men began berating each other again, voices growing louder by the second thankfully your name hadn’t come up again. You watched Mikey’s face lose any sort of emotion as Lee accused him of being medicated as your eyebrows drew into a frown confusion raced through you at the accusation. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at Mikey’s reaction the sudden thought that the older man’s words had any truth to them felt like a betrayal to the man you considered a brother.

The table remained silent; the only sound filling the room was the ticking of a clock in the background, everyone did their best to not cause any reasons to incite more violence. The anxiety caused you to bounce your leg up and down unsure as to where the rest of this night was going, Hayden completely zoned out so even though he was right next to you, you felt alone unsure of what to do with yourself. You felt a foot gently tap the toe of your shoe, something Carmy used to do whenever you needed reassurance that everything would be okay and other forms of physical contact were impossible. His feet spread apart so you could reach across and slip your feet between his like a security blanket, a piece of protection you never realized you wanted until it was offered.

You turned your head, watching as Mikey pawned Pete’s fork from its set place, an uproar going around the table pleading with Mikey. You sat there silently watching the scene, if ten other people hadn’t already gotten through to Mikey, you were sure an eleventh voice joining the mix would be completely useless at this point.

Natalie’s voice cut through the chaos attention zeroed in on Mikey, “Michael. Please don’t do this.” You watched as Mikey focused his attention on his little sister, “I love you.” It was her final plea as Mikey seemed to be weighing his options. The discourse between the two continued as everybody watched with bated breath waiting to see what the next move would be.

Steve’s unwarranted giggle broke Michael’s focus, his rush of apologies being brushed off by Mikey all in the name of fun. Cicero decided he might be the one to finally get through to Mikey playing his hand as mediator. You watched Mikey’s erratic behavior in silence, you weren’t usually privy to this side of Mikey, never being in town long enough to experience it in person, always being told about them on phone calls with Nat. It scared you, and it wasn’t necessarily Mikey that was scaring you but knowing that his switch could be flipped in such a timely manner that had you worrying about his safety.

The argument was nowhere near resolved as Lee’s constant instigating kept fueling the fire. Mikey’s sudden movement to stand up caused your heart to race, you honestly couldn’t give two shits about Lee’s well-being, your only concern was Mikey and what was going through his head at that moment.

You held your head in your hands that were propped up on the table by your elbows, the impending headache beginning to make an appearance. The animal noises coming from Mikey’s direction do nothing to ease the ache behind your eyes. You did your best to drown out the two men.

The clapping around the table drew your head up as Donna danced into the dining room, you felt so exhausted you couldn’t even muster up a fake smile to appease her. “What did I miss?” Donna laughed as she made her way to her seat, a quiet “nothing” being her answer. “I missed something,” she said while sitting in her designated spot.

Donna’s eyes landed on Hayden as she let out another laugh “Jesus you look fucking miserable Hayden. I missed something.” You felt Hayden sit up in his chair as his elbow bumped into yours watching as he forced his lips into a pathetic smile, his hand absentmindedly playing with the fork that was sitting on the placemat.

“Not much Misses. B, just defending my wife’s honor from that cunt Lee.”

You rolled your eyes as the man threw his arm around you before leaning in to press a dramatic wet kiss into your temple, your hand quickly shot up to wipe the leftover evidence on your sleeve. A quiet wince escaped your lips as Carmy’s foot clumsily stepped on yours, noticing how he avoided eye contact with you.

Murmured confusion scattered around the table aside from Richie’s awkward choked laugh as Tiff glared at him, any hope for a somewhat peaceful family dinner squandered by Hayden’s remark. All eyes flocked to Donna as she let out a full belly laugh, hand coming down to hit the table. The same hand moved up to point at you and Hayden, “Now that’s fucking funny Hayden, the two of you…married! Carmy would die before he let that happen!” A shit-eating grin stretched across Hayden’s face as he sent a wink to the matriarch, watching as her laughter went on for a few moments longer before Carmy awkwardly cleared his throat at her words, his legs moving from against yours ever so slightly as you frowned in confusion at what the older woman meant trying to gain Carmy’s attention only for him to shift his focus to the other end of the table.

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie’s about to say grace, Ma,” Mikey interjected trying to stir Christmas dinner back on its rightful course, Donna looked appeased, eyes happily finding Stevie’s figure as she waited for him to begin. A small back and forth between Mikey and Stevie ensued before the latter began his prayer.

“Um…Hey. Uh.. that we’re all…” Michelle’s laugh interrupted her partner causing you to anxiously laugh but quickly stop at the soft pinch on your thigh earned from Nat. You fell silent as you listened to Stevie give what seemed more like an awkward ramble rather than a prayer.

You could feel Carmy’s eyes darting across your figure as Stevie gave his explanation of what he thought the seven fishes symbolized. “I think that spending time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them.” You looked up in that moment, eyes connecting with Carmy’s piercing blue ones. Neither of you gave into the urge to look away, instead drinking each other in like two plants feeling the first drop of rain after a drought.

Your gazes were both drawn away by Donna’s quiet sniffles, a chorus of praises sent in her direction to calm her aching heart.

“You okay?” Natalie’s question caused you to flop back in your chair, eyes clenched shut, followed by Hayden’s quiet sigh. You knew all Nat had was good intentions and would always be the first one to put Donna’s mental well-being first, but you also knew what it felt like to feel so overstimulated that those two measly words would send you in a downward spiral.

“Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you ask me that? Do I not look okay Natalie?” Donna’s mood shifted just as quickly as it had been the whole day. Her unknown limit was reached in a minute.

“Not really.” Michelle’s subtle shade drew a hardly restrained laugh out of you, “Oh, fuck you Michelle.” Donna snapped before setting her sights on you, “Is something funny Baby? Hmm?” The question caused the lingering smile to immediately drop your back going straight against the chair, your head quickly shaking back and forth, clearing before answering Donna.

“No, sorry I’m just nervous.” You admitted head still on a swivel to ease Donna’s agitation.

You glanced at Carmy, his whole being sunken in as he looked at you as if your existence was exhausting him at this moment. Regardless of Carmen’s look you know your mom would’ve crucified your ass for walking into Donna Berzatto’s house and feeling comfortable enough to disrespect her not only to her face but with a bunch of her peers around.

“Are you motherfuckers okay?” Donna continued letting her subdued rage out the table silent to not enrage her any further. “Fuck you!” The smashing of glass as the plate hit the ground caused you to flinch, your leg knocking into Carmy’s from the sudden noise, his knee tapping yours twice to reassure you everything would be fine.

Donna made her exit while berating Natalie, who sat there speechless unaware of why her need to make sure her mom was well was taken as a personal attack. Lee’s unprovoked comment about Donna’s tirade irritated you along with Michelle’s comment about it being her worst moment.

It was funny to you how each and everyone sitting at this table would drag themselves here every year. To sit in Donna’s house, to eat Donna’s food. To reap the rewards of the countless hours of Donna’s hard work, only to dismiss her because she had become so overstimulated the only reaction she knew to give was unadulterated rage.

You saw Mikey’s hand move before the fork flew across the table narrowly missing Lee’s head, surprised to find yourself tucked against Hayden’s body as a form of protection just in case. The older man jumped up no longer tolerating the eldest Berzatto’s antics, Mikey followed suit the clattering of the dishes loud as he threw his side of the table. The two men tried to get to each other, you let Hayden know you were okay so he could help keep Mikey from abusing Lee.

Silence encompassed the room at the sound of a car driving through the side of the house, before the whole room was in an uproar once more. You stood up from your seat mouth dropping open at the Mercedes Benz now sitting in the dining room. Mikey’s voice shouted at Donna to open the door as Nat tightly grasped your hand trying to ground herself. She and Carmy were the only two remaining guests still sitting. Natalie’s tightening grasp on your hand drew your attention to the two younger Berzatto’s watching as Nat did her best to internalize what was happening while Carmy stared blankly past you.

Your head was pounding at that point, the small headache from earlier now felt more like a migraine. You slipped your hand from Nat’s grasp removing yourself from the dining room as quietly as you could, you quickly walked to the front door. Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk out that door and not come back, to protect your peace. You plopped down on the porch step head resting against your knees. As much as you wanted to run, your heart wouldn’t allow you to leave the Berzatto siblings to this mess alone.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #carmy the bear x reader #aiekoy rewrite

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goodlucktai · 7 months ago

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9, raph and leo?

dialogue prompts

9. “I know, I know it hurts.”

When Raph was eight years old, the twins decided they needed their own bedrooms and, like with all other things they had ever decided, they made it everyone else’s problem. As a united front, the two of them had the capacity to wear down a squad of Navy Seals in a manner of days, let alone one overtired single father.

The campaign for separate bedrooms turned out to be a long con. Donnie had been denied an evil science laboratory by Splinter multiple times, on the grounds of it being dangerous, and Donnie being seven, and evil being bad. But a room of his own could be whatever he wanted, and he wanted a lab.

It took most of a week for Splinter to discover that the twins were still doubled up in the room that was ostensibly Leo’s while Donnie’s was being used for nefarious purposes, but by then Donnie had installed an electronic lock on the door that he built out of components gutted from old kitchen appliances and was fully ready to die on that hill.

While Pops and Donnie were locked in a contest of wills that would ultimately go in Donnie’s favor (because Splinter’s achilles heel back then—and even now—was that he thought little turtles at their most sulky and unreasonable were just adorable) Raphie had looked at Leo with a confused frown on his face.

“How come you went along with it, Lee? You didn’t even get your own room.”

Leo shrugged, bright gold eyes shining with interest as he watched his twin and his father argue back and forth. He was following it carefully, probably ready to join in if it looked like Donnie was going to lose—more engaged than he ever was playing video games or flipping through comics.

At the time, all Leo said was, “Just wanted to see if I could.”

Raph thought it was because he was a troublemaker, and he maintained that idea up until Mikey—intuitive beyond his years, even as a sweet little six year old—said he figured it was just that Leo’s head went as crazy fast as Donnie’s did, only in ways that didn’t involve breaking and building things.

A full decade later, Raph knows Mikey was right on the money. Looking back, he sees a kid who was wickedly smart and terribly understimulated. Leo didn’t create trouble for the heck of it, he just liked having problems to solve. He wanted conversations and tricks and puzzles, he needed hoops to jump through like dolphins did on TV, or else he’d get cranky and sneaky.

Their world became a much simpler, more peaceful place once Leo got his first phone and discovered an online chess app with a leaderboard.

All this to say, Leo has had a mind for strategy since before he could talk in full sentences. He’s a natural-born leader, and after the failed Krang invasion, he really stepped up and took it seriously. Raph is so proud of him he doesn’t have words big enough to contain the size and shape of it all. It isn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be to let go of the reins and give Leo the room he needs to shine.

Some days are better than others. For the most part, Leo says jump and his brothers don’t even ask how high, they just shoot for the rafters. Their teamwork is cohesive, as solid as it was when they initially realized their ninpo, and Raph thinks he’d feel sorry for the Shredder if that guy showed his face in their town again.

But there are also days like today, when Leo says something that Raph’s big brother meter pings as Leo being silly, stirring shit up for lack of better thing to do, and he doesn’t linger on it past that initial knee-jerk impression.

They’re working with a group of mutants out of Hell’s Kitchen, mutants who are walking the line between vigilantism and outright crime. They’re rough around the edges, but good-natured for the most part. The turtles kept bumping into that other group as they crisscrossed around the city until finally their leader, Old Hob, said, “Why don’t we just get on the same program instead of stepping on each other’s heels?” and a tentative partnership was formed.

It’s been a week since then, and in that time Raph and his brothers have been firmly adopted by the grown-up mutants, who ask pointed questions about what time they went to bed the night before and whether or not they had a decent breakfast and how their online classes are going.

“This must be what having overbearing aunties is like,” Donnie said to April on the phone none-too-quietly, and Sally, feline mutant and aforementioned overbearing auntie, knocked her knuckles on his battleshell reprovingly. But that about summed it up.

There was one spanner in the works, and that was Liam.

——

“Anyone else getting bad vibes from that guy by the way?” Leo says one day.

There’s something performative about it, his usual pomp and charisma with a plastic edge. Mikey tilts his head like a service dog who just caught the scent of a potential medical emergency. Donnie looks up from his phone, eyes keen the way they only are when he and his twin are about to communicate with the telepathy they’ll deny they have.

But Raph is having a bad pain day, and his well of patience for shenanigans is much shallower than it normally is.

“Leon, don’t start,” he says, rubbing the slider’s head playfully to take any sting out of the dismissal. “If I have to put up with any middle child nonsense today I’m gonna scream.”

There’s a beat, his second-youngest brother visibly hesitating on a mental fork in the road. He’s gotten so good about being forthcoming but his first impulse is still to play along, deny, conceal-don’t-feel. He still has this idea in his head of what a good leader is supposed to be, and he’s still willing to whittle parts of himself away that don’t fit that mold.

To his credit, Leo tries again. “I don’t like him,” he says with less certainty.

“You don’t have to be best friends with the guy,” Raph replies. There’s enough warning in his tone that Leo knows to drop it. “Just get along until we go home.”

He works his shoulder, trying to do something about the solid ache it’s become, and Leo’s eyes drop to the mass of scarring there and then flit away. He starts to outline the route their patrol is going to take, reaching into his belt bag for the jar of Tiger Balm he’s taken to carrying with him and handing it over to Raph as he talks.

Raph smiles, the warmth in his chest ballooning up to swallow the impending impatience and annoyance brought out by pain. That warmth stays with him through their whole run, even as Donnie video-calls April and deadpans “POV you’re tailing some guy who didn’t get the memo that armed robbery is cringe as hell,” even as Mikey goes out of his way to jump and tumble off a fire escape in time to give Mondo a high-five as he skates by in the opposite direction, even as Leo progressively gets quieter the closer they get to their two AM check-in at the Mutanimals’ railyard base.

Looking back, Raph can count all the red flags he missed and hates himself a little more for each one. Leo sometimes causes problems for fun, and he likes to see what trouble he can get away with or get himself out of, and he is a downright menace to society when he’s bored—but he’s good. He’s sweet, and charming, and wants to help. He wouldn’t have raised an issue with the other group of mutants, potentially cutting ties with useful allies, unless he had a decent reason to.

And that reason, Raph discovers that night—after information has been exchanged and all that's left is to hang out at the base watching TV and playing table tennis until Splinter inevitably texts to remind his sons of their curfew—is Liam.

He doubles back into the meeting room where he left his phone and sees the goose mutant has put himself between Leo and the only exit, head lowered on a serpentine neck, beak open to show a flash of sharp teeth in a display that Raph’s animal hindbrain reads clearly as threat.

His grip on the doorframe causes it to crack.

“Leo,” he says in a voice he doesn’t recognize.

His little brother’s head jerks up, half-hopeful, half-disbelieving. Later, Raph will hate himself for putting even a sliver of doubt in Leo’s mind, for unknowingly invalidating his feelings. Leo should never be surprised that his big brother showed up for him. He should never have been left to fend for himself in a situation that made him uncomfortable, especially after he found the courage to be upfront about it.

“C’mere,” Raph says, lifting an arm—a little turtle’s cue to tuck themselves safely against Raph’s side.

Whatever his expression is doing, it’s caused dead silence to blanket the room like a foot of packed snow. Liam looks markedly unhappy to see Raphael standing there, but Leo runs to meet him.

A strategist, a faceman, a leader, and barely seventeen years old.

“We were just talking,” Liam says with a lightness that rings as false.

“Next time I find out you and my brother were just talking, I’ll wring your skinny neck,” Raph replies, matching his tone. Liam may be twice Raph’s age, but he’s half Raph’s size, and Raph has gone head-to-head with the Krang general and the Shredder and walked it off each time. Raph is fully prepared, in this moment, to murder this fucking goose.

Leo taps on Raph’s carapace, just as one of his violent inner voices is lifting its head in the back of his brain and considering making an appearance. On Leo’s end, a warning that someone else is coming from down the hall. On Raph’s end, a reminder that his first priority is the one he’s holding.

He turns, keeping Leo beside him, in time to see Hob appear around the corner. The cat mutant stops dead in his tracks, slitted eyes moving from Raph, down to Leo, to the doorway beside them, and back again.

“Problem?”

“We’re going home,” Raph says, a rumble in his voice he wouldn’t know how to temper even if he wanted to. “And we’re not coming back. Don’t call us unless someone’s dying or there’s another alien invasion.”

“Knock on wood,” Leo mumbles near-silently.

Old Hob doesn’t answer right away. It’s impossible to tell what the older mutant is thinking on a good day, outwardly recalcitrant and unfriendly, even though he has never snapped at Mikey’s cheerful rambling or Leo’s wheedling attempts to goad him into yet another chess match or even Donnie’s accidental ninpo-related shortage of every appliance in the Mutanimals’ kitchen. He and Sally and Ray and Herman all go out of their way to make their base comfortable and accessible to the turtles and Mondo and Pete, like it really matters to them that the younger mutants have a safe place tucked away that they can fall back on.

And Raph had appreciated that, up until now. Up until they proved it wasn’t safe, actually. Up until he’d seen a grown man leering meanly at his baby brother, just because he thought he could keep getting away with it.

When Hob does speak, all he says is, “Get home safe, boys.”

Raph shoulders around him, and collects Donnie and Mikey from the main room immediately. Mikey says, “Woah, are you guys okay?” and Donnie shoots a poisonous look behind them, like if he glares hard enough he can see back in time to what happened to put those expressions on Leo and Raph’s faces.

“We’re peachy, Miguelito,” Leo says, disquietingly convincing. “Just had a difference of opinion with our hosts is all.”

“Stay out of Hell’s Kitchen from now on until I say so,” Raph adds sternly.

Raph tells dad about Liam when they get home, because there is no universe where that doesn’t happen, and Leo immediately gets hauled into Splinter’s room for what sounds like a very serious conversation. Raph, Donnie and Mikey cluster shamelessly outside the door to eavesdrop, and some frightened thing in Raph’s heart lets out the breath it’s been holding when Leo says, “Nothing happened, papa, I promise. He was just weird.”

“Let him be weird to my Baby Blue one more time and I will show him exactly why your father was the undisputed Battle Nexus champion,” Splinter says. He cups Leo’s face and rubs his thumb over a striped cheek, as if he’d like to keep his son right there where no one had the capacity to hurt him. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so proud of you. I will actually kill him if he looks at you again.”

Leonardo smiles brightly, daddy’s boy of the family and glutton for attention that he is, those leftover dregs of anxiety in his eyes finally melting away.

“I think we should let dad kill him,” Donnie announces, eyes icy, tone flat.

“Nah,” Mikey says, disingenuously cheerful. “Next time we run into Liam I’m setting him the fuck on fire!”

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote, but his heart isn’t in it.

He can’t get that scene he walked in on back at the railyard out of his head. He can’t help thinking what if something worse had happened because I didn’t listen?

It feels like there’s a ghost in his chest, rattling his heart. He’s haunted by the what if.

——

After dinner, Leo looks at Raph meaningfully and points at the infirmary. Doctor Leo’s orders supersede all others, 100% of the time, so Raphael sighs and surrenders his controller to Mikey’s grabby hands without bothering to make the token argument. He keeps driving Princess Peach off the track anyway.

“Have you been stretching?” Leo says, feeling along Raph’s upper arm, where the muscles are visibly knotted. Even his careful touch hurts—that whole side of his body is tender with pain. Raph can’t help but flinch when his shoulder spasms and Leo hisses. “Shit, sorry, I know, I know it hurts. God, Raphie, you gotta say something before it gets this bad. I’m not afraid to bench you, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,�� Raph says, amused by his little brother’s no-nonsense tone, warmed by the care Leo always takes with his family when they’re sitting in his infirmary and putting their hurts in his hands.

There’s nothing performative about him here. It’s just Leo, stripped of every false layer.

“Let’s try to massage it out,” Leo says, all his attention bent to the task. “Then we’ll apply heat.”

Raph hums, watching him work. His arm radiates pain, and he has to grit his teeth as Leo goes to work on the knots and the ache flares close to unbearable and wanes to a dull throb and then flares again.

“Hey,” Raph says before he can overthink it any more. “What would you have done if I didn’t see you and Liam?”

Leo pauses, but only for a split-second. He’s as good as cornered here, because there’s no way he’ll leave Raph when he’s in pain, and there’s nowhere to hide. Thankfully for Raph’s sanity, he doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, even if he takes a long moment to finally answer.

“Would’ve made Angie make me a Portal Promise to never be alone with him,” Leo admits. Flushing slightly, he mumbles, “It’s, uh, a thing we do—we both make portals, you know, so—it just means we have to keep that promise no matter what happens or what rules we have to break, and we won’t get in trouble later as long as we’re honest.”

Raph’s heart hurts. His little brothers are so sweet, and people exist in the world who would hurt them, and he has no idea how to reconcile that. He hates that both things could be true at the same time.

“Tello doesn’t need to be encouraged to stay away from people, and I’m pretty sure he can read my mind? But I would’ve told him anyway,” Leo goes on. “I tell him everything. I’d try to word it so he didn’t get angry enough to do something drastic, like, cut the brake lines on Liam’s Toyota Corolla. And I’d have to make it sound like you and I were on the same page, otherwise he’d go to you about it, and you’d—uh, be annoyed that I didn’t drop it, I guess.”

Getting impaled by the Krang hurt less than this, Raph thinks. He feels sick.

“Leo—”

“I know,” Leo says quickly, a little too loud. “I know that I don’t always take stuff seriously. It’s not your fault for thinking—you know. You didn’t do anything wrong, Raphie. I just gotta grow up.”

This kid, who—like the rest of them—has already matured well past his age, well before he should have had to. Who’s terrified of letting his family down, who has so much he thinks he needs to live up to. Any perceived failure weighs on him like the death penalty, and Raph knows he had a hand in that.

He needs to listen. Even when he’s aching and short-tempered. Even when Leo is talking around something that scares him. Maybe especially then.

“Can we make a deal?” Raph says, reaching up to hold Leo’s hands still under one of his own. Leo is staring hard at Raph’s plastron and doesn’t seem willing to lift his eyes for love or money, but he jerks his head in a nod. “Next time I’m not hearing you, and it’s something serious like today was serious, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Leo’s mouth twists a bit. If it were for anyone else’s sake, he’d get in Raph’s face and make himself heard no problemo, but it’s an entirely different story when it’s his own safety in question. That part of Leo that wants to always rely on his brothers is constantly at war with the part that believes he’s not supposed to need anyone’s help anymore.

It would be impossible for him to plant himself like a tree and refuse to be budged and demand Raph’s attention if he thought for one second that it would make Raph angry at him.

“What if we came up with a code word?” Raph offers, squeezing Leo’s hands. “If I’m being a stubborn punk, you can tell me the code word, and I’ll listen, and I won’t get mad. Even if it turns out to be a mistake or a misunderstanding. Okay?”

He finally gets a peek of gold as Leo dares to make eye contact. He looks embarrassed, like they’ve made a huge deal out of this for no good reason, and hiding inside his shell until everyone promises to pretend like nothing happened is looking more tempting by the second.

But he’s Leo, their fearless leader. He stared down that portal into the prison dimension without flinching. If he can do that, he can do anything.

“What word?” he finally says.

“You pick,” Raph tells him.

A smile creeps onto Leo’s face, picking its way carefully across shaky ground.

“‘Goose’,” he suggests.

"‘Goose’ it is," Raph replies firmly, committing it to memory.

He lifts his good arm and drags his little brother into a solid hug, ignoring the twinge in his back and side. Leonardo scrambles to return the embrace, shoving his face against Raph’s unscarred shoulder and clinging for all he’s worth. Which is a lot. He’s worth so much.

Later, when Raph’s got the electric heating pad on his arm and he and Leo are watching TikTok compilations to pass the time, Mikey comes through the infirmary door at top speed, waving his phone above his head like a maniac.

“Look what Mondo sent me!” he shouts at full volume. “I put it in the group chat!”

The video shared in the Mad Dogz chat shows Liam being kicked out of the railyard, his bags tossed into the road. Sally is going off at him at the top of her lungs, and Hob is standing by with his arms folded like he’s fully ready to let her maul the guy, and the rest of the grown-up mutants are making it pretty clear with their body language that the goose isn’t welcome anymore.

“Dunno what they saw on the security cam, but they effin’ hated it,” Mondo says in the recording, unbothered by the absolute chaos unfolding in front of him. “Good riddance, Liam sucks. Oh, Mikester, Hob wants to know if you guys’ll be back in the Kitchen for Herman’s D&D oneshot on Saturday so he knows how much food to order. He said you should bring your dad around this time—as if we need another boring old man in the group, ugh. Anyway, let me know and I’ll pass it along, dude!”

A weight Raph hadn’t even realized he was still carrying melts off his shoulders. Leo huffs under his breath, a disbelieving little laugh.

“Can we go, Raphie?” Mikey asks with wide eyes. “Don worked so hard on all our character sheets. He even 3D-printed custom figurines.”

“My bard is going to carry this team,” Donnie says loudly from the next room, because he’s never met a private conversation he wouldn’t shamelessly listen in on.

It’s so important to the Mutanimals that their young friends feel safe with them, and here’s proof of that in Mikey’s hands. Raph doesn’t fully understand why they care, but he’s grateful that they do. It didn’t hit him until now how much it hurt to have the railyard taken away—and how relieved he is that they can go back, after all.

He squeezes the arm he still has around Leo’s shoulders, prompting his brother to look up at him.

“What do you say, Fearless?” he says warmly. “Your call.”

Raph’s listening this time.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato raphael #hamato leonardo #a team #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #magicalspacedragon #this kind of went all over the place but im super out of it tonight unforch :(

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imagionationstation · 5 months ago

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Do you think (in '12) Raph painted the undersides of their skateboards?

I was gonna headcanon a “you betcha!” but my brain would not shut up so we get some real canon analysis and investigation.

Nothing is ever simple with me. Sorry y’all-

First I wanna look at his room:

And this poster that looks drawn:

All the other posters have a fakeness to them. Backgrounds, shading, color schemes- everything you would expect to have from a movie poster. A general vibe behind the kinds of movies that he likes- but not this one?

My assumption? A drawing. Self made poster.

Proof that this teen draws and paints? Possibly. Likely.

Next I wanna look at the skateboards:

Good use of stickers. Very used- probably several years attached.

Mikey’s pops, Donnie’s techy, Raph’s skull, and Leo’s…

(If Leo’s isn’t a TMNT Easter egg I should probably give up turtles because that’s 100% what it is don’t quote me in that)

Leo’s looks like some kind of comic strip. Probably from a comic about mutants saving humans. Kid has always like his heroes.

👏 So the skateboards are specifically decorated to match each turtle. Which is a sus coincidence to simply fish out of a dumpster.

So it would stand to reason that someone painted each board intending it for them. The paint is chipping and stickers are scratched up, so this painting had to have happened quite a few rides ago (depending on the turtle, since Donnie’s board looks cleaner than the others which could mean they don’t always go out to skate the sewers all together.)

Could the turtles have done their own boards?

Well, Mikey sure didn’t. He’s nowhere near that skill level yet.

Could Donnie?

He’s definitely got the drawing skills…

But he seems to prefer to leave those for blueprints. He really isn’t much of a painter, I think. When they first get the Shellraiser, Donnie has it hidden away while he works on it. When he introduced his brother to it, it has the same graffiti that it had when they first got the vehicle from Leatherhead + teeth & red mask.

When Donnie does paint things, he seems to do the bare minimum. Turn that metal pieces yellow or that mental piece green. He’s not to focused on decorations.

I don’t really know if Leo does much artistically.

He does paint a pretty good 2-

But there’s also marks made outside of the lines, of which there are none of on those skateboards. And I really don’t think this cuts him out to paint intricately with a small brush.

So if none of them are able, that leaves the most well known painter.

Mr. Venus designer himself:

Venus looks so clean. This turtle has clearly been playing with paints for a while. When I contrasted Venus with the humans on the skateboard, I do think I see similaries with how the people are drawn- scrawny, loopy words, solid color background.

Venus is as clear as Mikey’s gorilla and Donnie’s (motherboard?)

And lastly I wanna contrast the poster and Raph’s board.

Something about the textures/lines taste similar to me.

BUT

I’m no artist. Just a writer. Grain of salt and whatnot.

To summarize: I’ve never thought about it before, but…

Yes! Yes, I absolutely do! ✨✨

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bones4thecats · 5 months ago

Text

Basically life in Rise! TMNT for our Reader;

Dating App Issues... Leonardo: Who would you swipe right for? Shredder or Draxum? Reader, who is holding grudges on both: I would delete the app.

Sharkboy and Lavagirl = Scary? Cassandra Jones: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl. Foot Clan! Reader: Okay. Cassandra Jones: And make out during the scary parts. Foot Clan! Reader: Th- Foot Clan! Reader: The scary parts... Foot Clan! Reader: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl...?

Student Appreciation Day (Strictly Platonic) Casey Jones: You know, Y/N gives April flowers each year, I wish you'd do that too. Leonardo: Okay. *Later* Leonardo: *gives April flowers* April O'Neil: ??? Leonardo: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

Is Being Smart Attractive Now? Reader: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know! Donatello: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus. Reader: Stop. Various ROTTMNT Characters After Being Asked About Their Confession... Donatello: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you. Raphael: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way... Casey Jones: *has a panic attack* What confession? Leonardo: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too. Baron Draxum: So what? Are you going to date me or not? Shredder: It was a dare.

Tracking the S/O... Raphael: You can track Y/N? Donatello: Of course I can. If the NSA can do it, so can I.

Rescue Mission Gone Wrong... Splinter, alongside his sons and April: What have you done with Y/N? Baron Draxum: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Kinky~ Reader: Are we fighting or flirting? Shredder: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck- Reader: Your point?

When Donnie Tells Mikey About His Crush... Michelangelo, talking about the new human friend, Reader: Why don’t you go talk to them? Donatello, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure. Michelangelo: What? So you go tell them they’re cute, what’s the worst that could happen? Donatello: They could hear me.

Word-Jumble Time! Donatello: I truly hate it here <3 Leonardo: Now replace 'it' with 'women'. Not so funny now, is it? Michelangelo: Now replace 'it' with 'women'. Not so funny now, is women? Raphael: Now replace 'funny' with 'women'. Not so women now, is funny? Donatello: I’m having a fucking stroke. Reader: Now replace 'stroke' with 'baby'. Congrats!

Tea-Time Therapy with the Reader... Reader, talking to Splinter over tea: You know what your problem is? Splinter: I only have one?

Oroku Saki and Reader's Development Be Like; Reader: Shredder has only knocked me out three time this week. Our friendship is really developing.

Arachnophobia At It's Finest... Casey Jones: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated! Reader, with Arachnophobia: Killed without hesitation.

Neon-Leon's Rarest Moment; Having An Idea... Leonardo: Hold on! I’m having one of those things... a headache with pictures. Reader: What the fuck? Donatello: He's having an idea.

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #ROTTMNT #Foot Clan #Hamato Clan #Mutants #TMNT Humans #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles x Reader #TMNT x Reader #Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles x Reader #ROTTMNT x Reader #Foot Clan x Reader #Hamato Clan x Reader #Mutants x Reader #TMNT Humans x Reader #GN! Reader #bones' incorrect quotes🫧#bones' shitposts🫧

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stellaspectral · 9 days ago

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Can you do a Bayverse Raph x Childhood best friend reader who's kind of a girly girl (loves pink, knows a lot about makeup and fashion, likes dressing up in pretty and cute outfits, and is an absolute sweetheart).

During when the tower is falling (reader isn't here for this) and Raph is cofessing, is where he spills that he's loved the reader for years but never said anything because he felt like he wouldn't be good enough for her and that she deserves better is also around the time they just landed on the ground and his brothers as well as April know the truth about Raph's feelings for her, and reader feels the same but also didn't say anything because she was worried it would affect their friendship in a negative way.

The way they confess to each other could be very similar to Lumity, where his brothers set them up on a 'mission' together. Which is actually a set-up date that Raph destroys out of embarrassment and fear of getting rejected, which makes the reader sad because she thinks he doesn't like her. But after something goes wrong and protects the reader from it is when they finally tell each other

A/N: Hello, anon! I haven’t watched The Owl House in a hot minute, but I tried my best to capture the vibe of *that* episode in a TMNT context. Thank you so much for the request; it was fun to finally write some Bayverse turts!

Rooftop Confession (angst/fluff)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Near-death situations (past & present), angst/insecurity, mutual pining, first kiss, happy ending. Takes place between the first movie and Out of the Shadows. All characters are aged-up.

The memory still hits Raph sometimes, sharp and sudden. Hanging onto that crumbling tower, the world tilting beneath him, the certainty of oblivion pressing in. He remembers that moment when, with everything stripped away, the raw truth clawed its way out.

“I … I shoulda told her,” he remembers choking out, the words torn from him by fear and regret, barely audible over the roar of destruction.

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey—they heard it. April, clinging nearby, heard it too.

“I always loved her. Since we were kids. But she deserves better. Someone … normal. Not a freak like me.”

They survived, somehow. Landed hard, bruised and battered, but alive. The confession hangs in the air between him and his brothers, an unspoken acknowledgment. They know. April knows. The only one who doesn’t know the depth of his feelings for you is … you.

❤️ Some Months Later ❤️

You adjust the bow on your pastel pink crossbody bag, humming softly as you follow Leo through the lair’s entrance tunnel.

Tonight’s outfit is one of your favorites: a soft, lavender A-line dress with little white flowers embroidered on the hem, paired with cute white sneakers that have delicate ribbon laces. You’ve also done your makeup—a shimmery pink eyeshadow, a touch of blush, and your signature strawberry-scented lip gloss.

Dressing up always makes you feel happy, even if you’re just hanging out in a sewer lair with your giant turtle friends.

Especially one giant turtle best friend specifically.

Your heart does its usual little flutter-kick when you see Raph leaning against a wall, arms crossed, looking characteristically grumpy. But you know him, know the slight softening around his eyes when he sees you, even if he tries to hide it. You’ve been friends since you were both kids—you, the bright-eyed human girl fascinated by the shadows. And him, the equally fascinated mutant turtle hiding within them.

You share secrets, scraped knees, and watch terrible late-night movies together. And somewhere along the way, your childhood affection has blossomed into something deeper. Something you are terrified to name for fear of shattering the precious bond you already have.

“Alright, team,” Leo says, clapping his hands together. “Quick recon mission tonight. Donnie picked up some unusual activity near the old waterfront warehouse district. Could be the Foot stirring things up, so we need a quiet approach.” He looks pointedly between you and Raph. “Raph, your strength might be needed if things get heavy. And you—your observational skills are top-notch. And frankly, you blend in better than the rest of us. But make sure to keep comms open and report back.”

You try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the idea of working closely with Raph tonight. “Just us? Are you sure, Leo?” you ask, tilting your head.

Mikey practically vibrates with suppressed energy behind Leo, giving you an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. Donnie adjusts his glasses, looking suspiciously focused on a scanner that isn’t turned on. April, leaning against Donnie’s desk, offers you a small, encouraging smile.

Something feels … orchestrated.

“Positive,” Leo answers firmly. “Now gear up, you two.”

Raph grunts, pushing off the wall. He doesn’t meet your eyes directly, which is odd. Usually, he’d at least give you a nod or a gruff, ‘hey.’

You grab Donnie’s enhanced binoculars and a pair of comms devices from his desk, attaching one to your dress. You hold the other out for Raph, who takes it without a word. His thick fingers brush yours for the briefest second, and a pleasant jolt zings up your arm. He recoils as if burned, shoving the device into a belt pouch before storming towards the exit and muttering under his breath.

You follow him out, casting a quick, slightly bewildered glance back at the others. Mikey is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, Donnie is suddenly very interested in polishing his glasses, Leo gives a sharp nod that feels more like a dismissal, and April just winks.

Okay, definitely orchestrated.

You hurry after Raph, your sneakers quiet on the concrete floor. “Raph? Everything okay?” you ask softly as you catch up in the tunnel leading out.

“Peachy,” he grunts, his voice tight. He won’t look at you.

The silence stretches between you as you walk. Usually, these tunnels echo with your shared laughter or Raph’s rumbling complaints about Mikey’s latest prank. His shoulders are rigid, his sais held tight at his sides, radiating a tension that has nothing to do with the upcoming mission. It prickles against your skin, making your own nerves fray.

You risk a sideways glance at him. His jaw is tight, his gaze fixed firmly ahead. The usual grumpy facade is there, but underneath it simmers something else—something agitated and uncomfortable. It hurts, just a little, this sudden wall between you. He’s never been this closed off before.

“So,” you try again, keeping your voice casual. “Waterfront warehouses. Creepy. Think we’ll see any ghost pirates?” You’re referencing an old inside joke, a ridiculous B-movie you watched together years ago. Normally, it would earn you at least a scoff, maybe even the faintest hint of a smile.

He doesn’t break stride. “Focus,” he grunts, the word clipped.

You bite your lip, feeling a flush creep up your neck. Fine. If he wants to be all business, then so can you. “Right.”

You adjust your bag again, suddenly self-conscious about your dress and sneakers. Maybe dressing up wasn’t the best idea for potential Foot Clan trouble. But Leo knew what you were wearing …

You pull your own focus inward, scanning the tunnel ahead, trying to push down the disappointment churning in your stomach. Why is he acting like this? Did you do something wrong?

You emerge from the sewers near the waterfront. The air here is cool, carrying the distant sounds of the city—a lone siren, the rumble of traffic on a far-off bridge. Ahead, the hulking shapes of the warehouses loom against the night sky, their windows dark.

“Okay, Leo said quiet approach,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Raph, pulling out the binoculars. You scan the nearest rooftop, looking for movement or any sign of Foot activity.

Raph moves ahead, his enormous frame surprisingly silent as he hugs the shadows along the alley wall ahead. He pauses at the corner, peering around it cautiously before gesturing for you to follow. As you move to join him, your sneaker catches on uneven pavement. You stumble, letting out a tiny gasp.

Instantly, a large, three-fingered hand shoots out, steadying your arm. The touch is firm, grounding, and sends another jolt through you. You look up, surprised, straight into Raph’s eyes. And for a fraction of a second, the wall is down.

You see the worry in his gaze, the familiar protective instinct overriding whatever else is bothering him. His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, a reflex honed over years of watching out for you. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

He snatches his hand back, turning away sharply. His shoulders tense up again, maybe even more than before. “Watch your step,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just melts back into the shadows at the corner, resuming his watch.

Your heart skips a beat, though it’s tangled with confusion. That brief moment—that flicker of the Raph you know—only makes his current behavior more baffling. He’s here, right beside you, but he feels miles away. And whatever this mission is, you have a growing suspicion that the real challenge tonight won’t be finding the Foot.

It’ll be navigating the strange, sudden distance between you and your best friend.

You activate your comm. “Okay, Leo, we’re topside at the waterfront. Area looks clear for now. Anything else we should be looking out for?”

There’s a crackle, then comes Leo’s voice. “Negative, just keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. How’s … uh … how’s the teamwork going?”

You glance at Raph’s stiff back. “It’s … quiet,” you say carefully.

“Good! Good! Quiet is good for recon!” Leo replies quickly. Then you hear a muffled shuffling sound and what might be Mikey whispering, “Ask them if they’re holding hands yet!” followed by a sharp “Mikey!” presumably from Leo or Donnie, and then static.

Your cheeks flush. Okay, now you know for sure. This isn’t a mission. This is a set-up. Raph’s brothers—they’ve thrown you two together out here. But why? And why is Raph acting like he’d rather wrestle Shredder blindfolded and unarmed than be alone with you?

“So,” you say, deciding to push forward with the charade, mostly because you don’t know what else to do. “Rooftop access?”

Raph grunts and points at a rusty fire escape ladder on the side of the nearest warehouse. “There,” he says, moving towards it.

He tests the lowest rung, satisfied when it holds his weight, and begins to climb without a word. You follow, hoisting yourself onto the first rung. You focus on the climb, placing your feet carefully, acutely aware of his broad back moving steadily above you.

Normally, Raph would check back, offering a hand even though he knows you’re capable, grumbling about making sure you don’t fall. Tonight, he just climbs, putting distance between you—and the hurt twists a little deeper in your chest.

You reach the flat, gravel-strewn roof, panting slightly. Raph is already crouched near the edge, his silhouette stark against the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off the low clouds as he scans the cluster of warehouses. You join him near the edge, keeping a respectful distance, the silence stretching taut between you.

The rooftop overlooking the warehouse district is surprisingly nice, in a way. The city lights glitter in the distance, reflecting off the dark water. There is even a small, neglected rooftop garden across the street with overgrown planters. It feels almost … romantic.

You take a deep breath of the crisp night air. “It’s actually kind of pretty up here, isn’t it?” you offer, trying to break the tense silence.

Raph swats away a loose piece of gravel. “It’s a rooftop. Concrete and pigeon crap.”

You wince slightly at his tone. “Right. So, uh … any signs of Foot activity?” you finish lamely, pulling the binoculars back up to your eyes, though you’re not really looking at anything.

He shifts beside you, sweeping away another stone, sending it skittering across the rooftop. “Nope,” he grunts. “Place is dead quiet. Just like Leo probably knew it would be.” There’s an edge to his voice, a raw frustration that goes beyond simple grumpiness.

Lowering the binoculars slowly, you turn to face him more directly. You can feel the thump of your own heart against your ribs. “Raphael,” you begin, your voice softer than you intended. He flinches, just slightly, like the sound of his full name startled him. He finally glances towards you, though his gaze lands somewhere near your shoulder, not quite meeting your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He stiffens immediately, crossing his thick arms over his plastron. “Nothin’s wrong. Told ya. Just doin’ the mission.”

“No,” you persist, finding a little more firmness. You know him too well to buy that. “Something is wrong. You’re barely speaking to me. And you’ve been acting weird ever since we left the lair. Did I … do something?” Your voice trembles slightly on the last question.

His head snaps up slightly at the tremor in your voice, a flicker of alarm crossing his features before he clamps down on it. “No!” he says, the word sharp, almost explosive. Then, quieter, more strained, “You didn’t do nothin’. It’s just … this whole thing is stupid.”

“Stupid? The mission?” you ask, latching onto the excuse, even though your gut tells you it’s not the entire story.

“Yeah! The ‘mission’!” He practically spits the word out, gesturing vaguely at the empty warehouses spread out below. “Leo sends us out here for nothin’. Just … gawkin’ at empty buildings in the dark.” His frustration is palpable, rolling off him in waves. He still won’t quite look at you.

“So you’re mad at Leo?” you probe gently, sensing you’re circling the actual issue.

He scrubs a hand over his face, his expression a turbulent mix of anger and something else. Embarrassment? Conflict? “Yeah. Mad at Leo.” He pauses, then mutters under his breath, almost inaudibly, “and Donnie. And Mikey.”

“Why?” The question hangs in the air, though the orchestrated nature of the evening has become blindingly clear. “Because they sent us out alone?”

Raph finally looks at you.

The raw emotion swirling in his eyes makes your breath catch. It’s frustration, yes, but tangled with a vulnerability that mirrors the look you saw when he caught you stumbling in the alley. He is watching you, a strange mix of frustration and something softer flickering in his eyes before he quickly looks away, scowling harder.

“This is dumb,” he growls, suddenly rising, pacing back and forth. “Just standin’ around. We should be doing somethin’.”

Your usually bright demeanor dims again, and a knot of disappointment forms in your stomach. Usually, even when Raph is moody, he isn’t this dismissive towards you.

You hug your arms around yourself, the pretty dress suddenly feeling even sillier. “If you don’t want to be here with me, you can just say so. Leo can send Donnie or Mikey.”

Raph stops pacing, looking genuinely taken aback for a second. “What? No, it’s not … It’s not you. It’s this whole … mission.” He gestures vaguely again, looking flustered. “It’s pointless.”

His words, meant perhaps to reassure, land wrong. This—being here with you—feels pointless to him?

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blink them back, turning away to stare fixedly at the skyline. “Oh. Okay.” Your voice is small.

Raph opens his mouth, then closes it, running a hand over his head in frustration. He looks utterly miserable, caught between his fierce feelings and his equally fierce fear. He hates seeing you sad, especially when he knows he is the cause. But the thought of confessing—of seeing potential pity or rejection in your eyes—it paralyzes him.

This whole set-up by his brothers is backfiring spectacularly.

Suddenly, a low groan echoes from the structure beneath your feet. Not metal stress. But something heavier, older. Concrete shifts.

“What is that?” you ask, glancing down nervously.

Before Raph can answer, a loud CRACK splits the air. The section of rooftop near the edge, right where you are, buckles violently. A chunk of concrete the size of a small car breaks loose, plummeting towards the alley below, and taking the patch of roof you are on with it.

You cry out, stumbling backwards as the ground disappears beneath you while Raph roars your name.

In a fraction of a second, all his awkwardness, fear, and frustration vanish, replaced by instinct. He launches himself forward, his massive green hand clamping around your wrist like a vise just as your feet leave the stable part of the roof. He hauls you back, stumbling himself but managing to pull you against his plastron, shielding your body with his own.

You land hard against his chest, the air knocked out of you, heart pounding against his like a drum. His arms are iron bands around you, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. Dust fills the air. Below, the chunk of concrete smashes into the alley with a deafening crash.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. You are trembling, clinging to the rough texture of his skin, the solid reality of him beneath your hands. He is holding you as if his life depends on it, his breathing ragged.

Finally, he loosens his grip slightly, tilting your chin up with one finger, his eyes scanning you frantically. “You okay? You hurt?” His voice is raw, thick with adrenaline and fear.

“I-I’m okay,” you stammer, tears finally spilling over, born of shock and relief. “You … you saved me, Raph.”

Seeing your tears, his expression crumples. “Aw, hell, I …” He trails off, looking down at you cradled in his arms, so small and fragile compared to him. The nearness, the lingering danger, almost losing you—it breaks down the last of his carefully constructed walls. “I’m sorry. For before. For bein’ a jerk.”

You shake your head, still trying to catch your breath. “It’s okay.”

“No,” he insists, his gaze intense, locking with yours. “It’s not okay. I ruined it. This … this whole thing.” He takes a shaky breath. “Leo an’ the guys—they set this up. This wasn’t just recon. It was supposed ta be … somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Like … a date?

“I panicked,” Raph admits, looking deeply ashamed. “Because … look at ya. You’re amazing. Always have been. So bright, and kind, and perfect.” He gestures at himself. “And I’m just … this. And I freak out, thinkin’ there’s no way someone like you can ever”—he pauses, swallowing hard—“feel the same way about someone like me.”

He finally echoes the words he confessed on that falling tower. “I’ve loved you for years. Since we were kids, watchin’ cartoons. But I was scared. Scared I’m not good enough. Scared I’ll ruin everything. I think you deserve … better.”

Waves of emotion wash over you—shock, understanding, overwhelming relief. The tears flow freely now, but they aren’t sad tears.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you cup his cheek. “Oh, Raphie,” you whisper, using his old childhood nickname. “You idiot.” A watery giggle escapes you. “You big, strong, wonderful idiot.”

Now, he’s the one whose eyes widen in surprise.

“You think I didn’t feel the same?” you continue, your voice gaining strength. “You think I didn’t spend years wondering if you saw me as anything more than just your human friend? I was scared too, Raph. Scared of losing you, losing our friendship if I said anything, if I misread everything. Scared I wasn’t tough enough, or cool enough, for you.”

You press your forehead against him. “You’re not ‘just this.’ You’re brave, and loyal, and you protect the people you care about more fiercely than anyone I know. You have the biggest heart, even if you try to hide it under all that grumpiness. How can I not fall for you?”

He stares at you, his usual scowl completely gone, replaced by stunned vulnerability. “You … you mean that?”

“Every word,” you breathe.

Slowly, tentatively, he leans down. You meet him halfway, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that is hesitant at first, then deepens with all the years of unspoken longing. His hands are infinitely careful as one cups the back of your head, the other resting gently on your waist.

And when you finally pull back, breathless, you are both smiling.

“So,” Raph mumbles, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “This, uh, date kinda sucked hard until the end.”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, the ending was pretty spectacular.” You feel safe and warm nestled against him, the earlier hurt completely forgotten. “Maybe we can try again? Somewhere more structurally sound?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, tightening his arm around you protectively.

Your comm crackles to life. “Uh, guys? Everything okay?” Leo’s voice sounds cautious. “Donnie lost your signal for a minute after that tremor.”

Raph glances down at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he switches on his own comm. “Yeah, Leo. Everything’s fine. More than fine.” He pauses, then adds, unable to resist, “Mission accomplished.”

You giggle, burying your face against his plastron as you hear Mikey whooping victoriously over the comms. The set-up might have gone disastrously wrong, but sometimes, it takes a little chaos to finally knock down the walls and let the truth come tumbling out.

And looking up at Raph’s relieved, smiling face, you know one thing for certain …

This ending was worth the wait.

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ipostwhatiwant1202 · 7 months ago

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Headcanons for all 4 TMNT:

• they all love kids but they collectively agree that babies aged 0-2 are the best

• can any of them handle spice? absolutely not. does it stop them? no.

• the only thing can all collectively agree on without much arguing is music

• all are surprisingly pretty good dancers

• they have all said "suck my dick" at some point (raph uses it the most)

• they all manspread

• nothing triggers any of them more than a spider

-raph won't go anywhere near the spider and refuses to be in the same room with it

-mikey's okay with the spider but doesn't want it touching him

-donnie will move the spider without killing it but won't touch the web

-leo will touch the spider to take it outside but the feeling freaks him out

• don't say the words "i bet you won't" cause boom there they all go

• at some point they have all referred to april as mom just to piss her off

• they all agree smores poptarts are superior

• they play with april's hair if she's sitting in front of them on the ground

• shark week is a whole thing

• thanksgiving and christmas are the turtle's favorite times of year

• they will all devour the deviled eggs and cranberry sauce

• mikey and raph will shamelessly walk in the bathroom when their brothers are showering

• leo and donnie are very guilty of leaving cupboards open in the middle of the night

• raph and leo have similar facial expressions when shit hits the fan

• mikey and donnie freak out if wet food touches them when they do the dishes

• leo and mikey both really like dr phil

• donnie and raph can't stand the taste of bananas

• do any of them truly enjoy horror? no. do they suffer through the movie anyway? yes.

• april has sat on their laps when there's been no seats

-leo is the most calm and just settles his hands where she directs

-raph is a bit more timid and keeps one hand on her waist

-donnie tries to keep his hands off her because he's awkward

-mikey just wraps his arms around her like it's a normal thing

• splinter still tells the boys stories when they can't sleep after a tough patrol

• splinter also checks on the boys every night when they go to bed

• the guys can all shotgun like it's no ones business

• they're all very protective of april and casey's child(ren)

-one time one of the kids came home crying saying another kid pushed them down and all 4 of them were fully prepared to go to war

-if the kid is taking a guy to homecoming or prom, the dude gets threatening texts and blocked phone calls

• when april and casey's child(ren) was born, all the guys cried

-leo very reluctantly let someone else have a turn holding the child(ren)

-raph has made the child(ren) a blanket as a gift when they're born

-donnie handles all the medical care for the child(ren) and april during and after birth

-mikey decorated the child(ren)'s nursery and baby shower(s)

• april gets random texts to settle dumb arguments between the brothers

• they all love adele

• they all sing in the shower

• don't bring nerf guns into the lair for the sake of splinter's sanity

• vine references are frequently thrown around the lair

• they've all watched 90 day fiancé and they all hate ed

• mikey is the only one who can get any of his brothers to cry from laughing

• leo may suck at comforting his brothers but they all seek him out for comfort anyway

• donnie's sleep schedule is the worst so when he falls asleep in his lab his brothers have each carried him to bed

• raph can't sleep properly unless he knows that his brothers are close by and he's seen them go to bed

• splinter will still sometimes tuck the boys into bed if he knows they've had a rough time

• all of them have cussed out casey and vern for saying the wrong thing about a brother

• they all hardly swear around april

• splinter has banned legos in the lair because the boys were using them as revenge against each other

#tmnt ask blog #ask blog #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt 2003 #tmnt headcanons

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em1e · 2 years ago

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万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?

there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken.

even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy.

but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older.

and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak.

days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind.

you enjoy your view from the sidelines.

“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal.

he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.”

you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer.

“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.”

you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.”

there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing.

“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?”

you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!”

“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”

“quiet!”

draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away.

and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another.

until it isn’t.

until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to.

until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise.

you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown.

and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death.

you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves.

it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side.

and then she dies, too.

her death was the breaking point for them, you think.

unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close.

the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey.

you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks.

when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches.

he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey.

weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered.

ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether.

years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan.

you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it.

“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.”

you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment).

the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey.

despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock.

there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -

there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside.

you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable.

“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.”

“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully.

“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?”

“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.”

“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.”

“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be.

when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch.

“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember.

“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”

“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch.

“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission.

“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you.

“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?”

you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts.

but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep.

it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours.

there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter.

hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey

a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number.

it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note.

two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment.

almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid.

you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor.

imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant.

two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over.

“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?”

you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .”

there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-”

“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine.

“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer.

“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.”

“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but.

“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.”

you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.”

“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s’what big brother’s are for.”

and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really.

you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin.

he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib.

“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.”

“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.”

“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.”

despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition.

and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son.

you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of.

except he’s known since you moved back.

it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy.

mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it.

three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet.

you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage.

it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need.

you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective.

you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy.

it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset.

“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.”

“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.”

“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively.

“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers.

“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-”

“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.

“four.”

“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.”

“because, ken-”

shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?”

he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop.

“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare.

“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble.

your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it.

you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start.

of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better.

you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male.

it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer.

you try again.

nothing.

you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right?

the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath.

“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.”

you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.”

“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention.

“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed.

“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?”

“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer.

“great, i’ll see you in five.”

you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-”

there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away.

you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone.

the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.”

your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.

his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him.

“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-”

he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings.

his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.”

the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior.

when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form.

“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?”

you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height.

he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?”

he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.”

and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it.

you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot.

“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown.

“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.”

inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?”

you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”

“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.”

when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut.

you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.”

“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.”

your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.

you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps.

the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.”

you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”

the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument.

inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you.

you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.”

you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”

you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”

and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours.

the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them.

it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following;

mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something.

he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?

the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need.

so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.

when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over.

“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest.

if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response.

“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-”

“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.”

“i just need to know if they’re here-”

he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.”

he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”

with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up.

at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold.

the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves.

the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet.

after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?”

“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up.

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?”

“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.”

“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?”

he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.”

though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown.

“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him.

ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?”

“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face.

ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue.

“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.”

“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.”

“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.”

instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.”

“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”

you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-”

“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.”

“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-”

ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.”

you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear.

don’t say a word.

ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.”

he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device.

“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough.

koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?”

you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying.

“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.”

he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue.

he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving.

you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside.

though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles.

he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in.

when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel.

“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.”

“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.”

you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel.

“we made sacrifices for you-”

“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?”

“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.”

the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot.

the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building.

“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.”

“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you.

“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle.

“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.”

you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors.

the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest.

you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are.

it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you.

“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking.

your mouth dries at the sight.

mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.”

you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do.

and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years.

“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?”

when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that.

“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments.

"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-”

“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you.

the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you.

“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips.

you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.”

i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know.

he knew.

“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before.

“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.”

“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch.

“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own.

“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.”

the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown.

“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”

he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut.

“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him.

his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face.

“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it.

“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior.

he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.”

you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression.

“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.”

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch.

“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap.

you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement.

“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip.

he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer.

“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.”

the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts.

“after?”

“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own.

you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies.

his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach.

you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much.

too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him.

“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.”

#salmon rowe #mikey sano x reader #sano mikey x reader #mikey x reader #sano x reader #mikey sano #sano mikey #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months ago

Note

Would you be willing to write a Rise of the TMNT Future Mikey x Reader? (Maybe Mikey and Reader are married in the future timeline?) Could this take place during the bad future timeline?

Dating Headcanons (Fluff/Angst)

Future!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: I decided to do it like my Dating Headcanons (Fluff/Angst), and give headcanons on both the Krang future and the good future. Hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Warning: None🧡

Krang future:

When the world took a turn for the worse, with the Krang quickly taking over the world above, depriving the world of sunlight, Mikey decided to rush the plans he had set for you, and propose to you in a hurry, making use of what little time he knew you and him had. None of you knew what tomorrow would bring, or if there even would be a tomorrow.

Mikey had wanted to marry you, but thought that you and him would have many more years to plan it out. But with a sky with no light, and life underground in order to survive, you decided to rush the whole thing, and got married the same day Mikey proposed - the proposal not being much more than Mikey clutching your hand, telling you he wanted to marry you, just as you ran for the saftey below ground.

The wedding itself was a quick affair, taking place as soon as you got into the bunker. Calling it a wedding could even be discussed. There was no decoration, no speeches, no preparations. It was in the rush and anxiety of everything, you and Mikey held each other’s hands tight as Splinter wed you, with Mikey’s brothers, along with April and Cassandra as witnesses, taking in the small amount of love and hope still present in the world.

The celebration itself was small and light, with most of the celebration being between you and Mikey, as you laid awake that night, cuddled up in bed, just staring lovingly at each other, with the sadness of the world not too far away from you.

Though life in the bunker was hard and often time draining, leaving little to no hope for the people living there, you and Mikey stuck through it, often relying on each other to keep up your spirits. Every night, no matter how challenging your day might have been, you and Mikey would mention at least one good thing. That in turn would help brighten your mood a little bit, having its small effects on the people around you.

Good future:

In a world where you and Mikey had all the time you needed, it was much easier being happy together, being able to spend a lot of time together, just staring lovingly into each other's eyes with bright smiles. You and Mikey would take great joy in enjoying life together, with all the joys and pleasures it had to offer. However, you were never too greedy, often making sure not to over indulge and be grateful for what you had together.

You and Mikey’s relationship could be described as happy and bright, filled with hope for the future. Maybe it was Mikey’s mystic powers, but many would describe the two of you as bright and glowing, making everyone nearby feeling warm inside. Some would even talk about how a truly well functioning relationship, would make other people

Mikey was a thoughtful boyfriend, rarely doing anything without having you in mind, with a love language strongly relying on gift giving and acts of service (along with cute and funny comments). Flowers was commonplace, often in colors that reminded you of summer and warmth. Other than bringing you flowers pretty much everyday, Mikey would also cook for you often, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Mikey really liked to cook in general, so cooking for you was very much a joy.

Dates were just as common as gifts and acts of service. Mikey loved to take you out and see the world, collecting memories together. There was nothing that made Mikey more happy, than to watch you smile and hear you laugh, as the two of you experienced the world together, gaining one wonderful memory after the other in this bright and beautiful world. One day, Mikey wanted to see it all with you.

Will you and Mikey marry? Most likely, but you’re not busy. Married or not, you will still love each other. But one day, yeah, Mikey would propose to you, and he would surely make it memorable.

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riggsink · 3 months ago

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What's the lore behind the katana dads 👀

It's nothing too complicated! It's mostly just domestic fluff with two dads and their kids. There are little scenes & interactions with leosagi "pre-dads" and how they get together that I wanna sketch out eventually, just haven't had much time yet, so for now here's a sparknotes version.

(under the cut, in case people don't wanna read all that)

Everything sticks to canon more or less, with sprinkles of Usagi here & there, until post movie. There's a nice little two year window post season two/pre movie where I think Usagi would meet the turtles while he's working for Big Mama. It's a bit of a rocky start. They think he's up to no good, but Usagi's just out here trying to make a living

Over time, Leo manages to wear down some of Usagi's carefully built walls, through sheer force of personality. They flirt, they fight. Eventually they start to call each other 'friend'. (Don't let them fool you, they're both half in love already by this point.)

Raph, Donnie & Mikey still don't trust Usagi (especially Donnie) but they also see how close the two become and agree to leave it be until something goes wrong.

This au lives in the canon "good future" timeline, where Casey Junior travels back and prevents the apocalypse, so all the movie events happen the same. My headcanon for why we never see Draxum or anything yokai related in the film is that as soon as the kraang invasion starts the hidden city goes into lockdown.

Usagi is stuck in the hidden city, fully aware that the turtles are risking their lives fighting the kraang, but unable to do anything to help.

Post movie, Usagi and Leo become much closer (some might even say codependent). Usagi spends a lot of time in the lair while Leo heals up, and in turn grows closer to the rest of the family as well

Usagi stops working for Big Mama, still taking work where he can find it, but he's more willing to turn down a job if he doesn't agree morally

The dum dums finally get together when they're around 18/19 years old

When they're 20, Usagi is notified that one of his very distant cousins & their spouse have died in an accident, leaving their two young sons orphaned. Usagi is hesitant to take them in because of personal insecurities and because his relationship with Leo is still so new, but that's quickly put to bed because Leo is instantly a hundred thousand percent on board, he wants to be a dad so bad!!

Jotaro is four years old and Yuichi is about six months old when the katana dads adopt them

#katana dads au #rottmnt #leosagi #miyamoto usagi #rise usagi #leonardo hamato #rise leo #rottmnt au

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melancholysway · 4 months ago

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Can you do 2007 turtles crush at first sight hc's reaction to master splinter introducing them to an old friend of his who is female ninja around their age. How would they act around them?

Of course I can! I hope this is what you had in mind :)

TMNT 2007 HC: Their reaction to their crush at first sight 💚

- “This is an old friend. You may address her as Miss Y/n.”

- “Now Splinter, you know I don’t care much for formalities. We’re about the same age, yeah?” You smile at the turtles as you stand before them; who remain bowing to you as a sign of respect.

- However, one turtle in particular picks his head back up the quickest to look at your face.

- The four brothers were expecting you. Master Splinter had informed them of an old friend- she was the daughter of one of his past Sensei’s. He felt a sense of pride introducing you to them.

- You were the product of the intense training he went through as well.

- “You can just call me Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all. Splinter has told me so much about you guys.” You go around the room, making sure to shake every one of the turtle’s hands. Each one had a different grip on your own small hand.

- “I reckon you remember the story of my Sensei my sons; Master Hisashi.” Splinter had told the four brothers countless memories from his time training under Hisashi. He learned almost everything he knew from him.

- “Is that…?” Mikey trails off.

- “His daughter, Yes.” Splinter remembered when you were just a little girl. You had been adopted by Hisashi when you were only one year old after a tragic car accident with your birth parents. Hisashi raised you and eventually trained you to become a kunoichi.

- “He taught me everything I know.” You had also made an appearance so you could spar with the turtles. Once Hisashi got in touch (finally!) with Splinter, he had to explain the mutation situation he was in years ago. HIsashi understood, of course he did.

- His former student and good friend being a rat had changed nothing. Once moving to New York, HIsashi began to visit often, fascinated by the four mutated turtles.

- Fast forward to now, you were finally able to meet them yourself.

- As you study each of the brothers, you see one of them had his eye on you longer than the rest; especially after shaking their hand.

Leonardo

He’s intrigued. He knew Hisashi had a daughter, but now, he was meeting you for the first time.

Someone forgot to mention how pretty you were

You weren’t dressed like a kunoichi, though. You weren’t wearing any fabrics that indicated so.

You only wore black leggings and a tank top with some sneakers, your single katana in its holster strapped to your back.

He liked your simplicity, given you were here today to spar with his brothers

He couldn’t wait to spar with you btw

You walk up to him first, sticking out your hand for him to take.

His hand shake is formal

though it lasts a little longer as he enjoys the feeling of your hand touching his

His eyes look into yours, and you return his sincere smile

“I hear you’re the strong, fearless leader. Leonardo, right?”

*Insert butterflies in his stomach*

“Y-yeah, you can call me Leo.” His self-confidence gets a sudden boost at your words. Strong? Fearless?

Yeah, that’s him honey.

He watches as you go down the line, shaking his other brother’s hands, he notices the katana behind you. Its handle is a beautiful shiny black, designed with pastel pink cherry blossoms and white branches. He looks behind his back at his own dual katanas. The handles were plain blue with some imperfections from wear and tear. It appeared your aura and beauty matched your own weapon.

You were absolutely breathtaking to him, your hair in a bun, loose strands dancing around your face. He watches your lips as they open to talk and shake the rest of his brother’s hands.

Once you finish, you make your way back to Master Splinter who tells his sons to begin stretching for today’s training.

“It’s rude ta stare, fearless.” Raphael jokes with a snickering Michelangelo. Leo didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you.

“I- uh.” “No need ta hide it,” Raph gets up from his spot to stretch his arms, and leaves his brother and his flushed cheeks on the opposite side of the dojo.

He wondered what your interests were; what you liked and disliked. What makes you happy, and what makes you sad. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you getting closer in his field of vision, walking right up to him.

“Could I spar with you first, Leo?” Your voice sweetly greeted his ears like honey to a bear’s tongue.

“I…yes, I’d love to be first.” He gets up from his spot on the floor after a few quick stretches, watching as you flash him a smile, your eyes closing as you did so.

He knew the more you came down to visit, the more he’d want to spend time with you to get to know you.

Raphael

‘She’s small.’ - Raph’s mind

He watches your body language and mannerisms. How you smile to each of his brothers, showing them all the same amount of respect.

When he sees you go up to him first to shake his hand, he’s a little shocked.

I mean, he’s the biggest turtle of the team. His biceps alone rival Donnie’s and Leo’s combined. He’s also very much aware of his RBF, which he cannot control

So, why did you come up to introduce yourself first? Wouldn’t you be at least a little intimidated by him?

His thoughts come crashing down when you finally speak to him.

“Looks like you carry the world’s problems on those sculpted shoulders of yours,” How did you see right through him? You weren’t intimidated by his resting bitch face, nor how brolic he was compared to the rest of the team.

He also wasn’t expecting you to flirt with him?

He thought- wait- were you flirting with him?

When he doesn’t say anything, you smile and stick out your hand.

“Raphael, correct?”

“Uh, yeah. Or Raph. Whicheva you prefer.” The way his name escaped your lips was heavenly. His own gruff deep voice had clashed with your softer one. You had contrasting differences from each other, but it only made him study your face more.

He takes your hand to shake, holding back his strength so he doesn’t crush your hand by accident.

He likes how smaller your hand is compared to his own, too. How soft your hand was compared to his rough one. How your 5 fingers easily interlocked with his 3 digits.

His golden eyes looked at yours, studying you and your facial features. There was no way this girl who was significantly smaller than him was a trained kunoichi.

But, you were. Splinter had told him and his brothers all the stories about Hisashi and his daughter. How talented she was in the art of ninjutsu.

He comes to terms with this when he notices your katana strapped to your back as you walk away from him.

“Nice eyes, by the way.” You compliment absentmindedly, smiling as you went down the rest of the line to meet the next turtle.

He doesn’t say anything, though, he can’t help but keep his eyes on you. This was the second time in a matter of 5 minutes that you had flirted with him- at least that's what he thinks it was.

‘Nah, it totally was.’ He smirks as he looks you up and down, his eyes moving with your curves all the way down to your ankles. The way your eyes glanced at him every now and then, only for you to see he was smirking at you.

And soon after introducing yourself to the rest of his brothers, it was time for training.

Raph’s body seemed to stretch out easily. He trained and exercised often, and he watched as your arms reached to touch the tips of your sneakers, watching how your calf muscles under your leggings flex as you did so.

He walks over to you, stature looming over your stretching form. You take notice of the shadow engulfing you, turning around to look up and see the turtle in red.

“I won’t go easy on ya,” He says matter of factly. Expecting you to simply nod and go back to what you were doing, you get up to stand in front of him, his plastron almost coming into contact with your chest.

“I wasn’t expecting you to. Besides, I like a challenge.” You wink before walking away, going back to what you were doing as if what you said held no weight.

The way you looked at him, and even matched his energy? Yeah, he was ready to take you on.

Unbeknownst to you, Raphael also loves a good challenge.

“Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Leo says chuckling. He notices how quickly Raph turns around to deny his statement, with a snarky comment of his own.

“Yeah right, I’m head ova heels already.” He responds sarcastically. Looking back at you, now conversing with Donatello, he chuckles to himself.

He wasn’t wrapped around your finger. Yet. It was going to take more than flirting and winks to get him under your spell.

Donatello

This turtle is nervous at first. Donnie is intimidated by women. He’s grew up with his brothers his whole life, that the thought of a woman gets him in a twist.

His reaction to meeting you isn’t the same as how he met April. He had this awkward one-sided crush on her that he never acted upon. His brothers knew, of course. He was such a nerdy shy turtle that would blush every time April gave him a hug.

This crush was short-lived, though. Once Casey came into the picture, he kept his feelings in.

Surprisingly, he got over April fairly quickly.

Now, 2007 Donnie doesn’t fall head over heels at first sight. He takes a moment before acting on impulse.

‘Pretty.’ He thinks as he looks at you. You’re standing so confident beside Splinter that he has no choice but to admire you. After hearing so many stories of Hisashi’s daughter, you were now standing in front of him, ready to shake his hand.

Donnie is shy, he awkwardly sticks out his hand, and when you touch his, he can’t help but blush. His cheeks dusted pink from physical contact with you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Donatello.” Your pretty smile just compliments the rest of your face that Donnie can’t help but stumble on his words.

“O-Oh, please, um…call me Donnie, or Don! Whichever.” Stupid! He mentally curses at himself. For once could he just act a little confident?

“Donnie…that’s a cute name for a genius.” Cue Donnie smiling like an idiot. You knew about him thanks to talking to Splinter. You knew Donnie was the most intelligent turtle out of the four. He had the power to make nothing into something great. He was truly an underrated member of the team.

“Ha…genius is a little…I wouldn’t say…well,” He’s stuttering and puts a hand behind his neck for comfort. He can hear Mikey snickering to his left side.

But, you were right. Donnie was a genius. His name was also pretty cute, too.

He thought you were cute btw

Despite being intimidated by you, your hand was soft, and it shook his gently. He notices the way your hand feels on his own, and he breaks the shake before his cheeks catch on fire from how nervous he is.

His brown eyes continue to watch you even after introductions. How you begin stretching nearby, as he tries to focus on his own body.\

He’s admiring you. From what he’s heard, you were a highly trained kunoichi. The thought of you in battle piqued his interest. Not only that, but he wondered how much damage such a pretty girl like you could do.

Donnie wasn’t exactly the strongest, and he was afraid he would make a fool of himself during sparring (Splinter brought ‘The Hat’ out, meaning that he would pick names from a Yankees baseball cap to see who would spar with who.)

He was hoping, praying he didn’t get paired with Raph first.

He’s so lost in his anxious thoughts that he doesn’t notice you pick up his bo staff from beside him.

“I can’t wait to see what you can do with this,” You say. He looks up at you from his spot on the floor, watching in admiration as you spin it around like a color guard from a marching band.

“You’ve mastered the bo staff, yeah?” You ask, placing it in his open hands.

‘Keep it cool, Donnie.’

“Yeah, it was a little hard at first, since it’s just a piece of wood.” He notices you sit down next to him, continuing to stretch.

He gets a little more comfortable talking to you. You weren’t towering over him, and it eased him up a bit.

“I mean, I can’t remember how many times Foot soldiers laughed at me when they saw me pull it out during a fight.” He admits. It was true, he was the laughingstock amongst new Foot Soldiers who hadn’t fought him yet. However, he would quickly show him he was not the one to mess with.

“I’d love to see you fight, Donnie.” You flash him a smile, patting him on the shell. Your voice is so modulated and pleasant to listen to.

You were gonna be the death of him.

Michaelangelo

He thinks you’re cute.

Totally cute

He’s so giddy and excited to meet you, but he’s also a little nervous.

He wasn’t the best fighter on the team, but he was the glue that kept them together during tough times. When they need a push or a lighthearted moment after a serious one, they look to Mikey for that relief.

“What’s up, Kunoichi dudette!” Mikey’s handshake is playful like himself. He’s also not really into formalities, so he lets you know right off the bat you can call him Mikey.

“I never met a kunoichi before! This is so cool~”

“Yes we have Mikey. Karai.” Donnie says factually. Mikey scoffs and smiles.

“She doesn’t count. Y/n’s one of the good guys, right?” You nod in agreement. Hisashi had told you about Karai who also was a trained Kunoichi. The only difference between you two ladies was that you stood on different beliefs. Karai was cold, brash, and dangerous.

You were the opposite. If it came down to it conflict wise, you could handle your own. Mikey didn’t think you looked deadly or dangerous at all.

He wants to get to know you. You’re the third human girl he’s met! He wants to know a lot about your life as a Kunoichi.

He’s surprised at how easy it is to talk to you. Mikey can get really giddy and excited when talking to people, but he likes the way you respond and bounce off of what he says.

“Nunchucks? You’ve got to show me how to use them!” You smile and giggle as Mikey is clearly trying to impress you with his dual weapon. He’s swinging them around quickly and doing a few tricks he’s learned.

“They’re really easy, just look at how- ow!” You watch as Mikey bonks himself on the head with one of his nunchucks, wincing from the pain on the floor.

“Are you okay?” You place a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly, he’s up and at em’ like it never happened.

“I’m okay! Don’t worry everyone!” He announces to his family.

“Don’t worry! We ain’t worryin’!” Raphael replies from the other side of the dojo.

Smiling at Mikey, you excuse yourself to your own spot in the room. As you unsheathe your katana, he can’t wait to see you use it.

He watches in awe as you practice on your own before sparring in a corner by yourself. With your katana in hand, he’s watching how easily your body flows with each swift movement.

“She’s like an angel…” He says dreamily. Unlike Raph’s hard exterior, Mikey’s was soft.

He would be wrapped around your little finger in an instant.

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#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael #leonardo #donatello #tmnt 2007 #tmnt imagines #tmnt headcanons #tmnt hc #tmnt x reader

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imababblekat · 2 years ago

Text

Vicarious Happiness

Anon Request, “Hi!! I love your work so much and I hope your doing wellI have a request if thats cool, it's fluffy raphael x reader(she/her) and it's like raph being all soft for once and letting his gard down and laughing and his brothers seeing this and they get all sappy”

~xXx~

It was the sounds of loud, hardy laughter that drew Leo from his once peaceful meditation. He knew that laugh and felt a familiar agitation itch at his mind, wondering what prank Raphael had pulled on Mikey this time. However, when he stepped out into the main living portion of the lair, he was quickly surprised to find the red banned turtle to not be cackling at his youngest brothers peril, but instead joyfully laughing along with you. While his laughter was louder and much deeper, no one could miss the cherry colored blush of your face as you laughed equally along. The leader of the four brothers made his way over to the kitchen, where he had spotted his two other siblings apparently watching the wholesome scene between Raph and the brothers close friend. “Donnie, you didn’t drop laughing gas again did you?”, Leo questioned with a raised brow and covering his snout. Hazel eyes glared behind self made classes. “I’ll have you know that was Casey’s fault! Also, no, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” Rolling his own eyes, Leo pointed a thumb over to where you and Raph sat close on the couch. “I ask because I’ve never seen Raph like that unless he did something. What’s up with him?” “Can’t you tell?”, Mikey jumped in with a swoon, batting non-existent lashes at Leo, “What’s up with Raph is (y,n)!” Leo scoffed, shoving Mikey out of his personal space as the other wiggled his brows. “Wait, are you guys serious? I know the two are close, but Raph like that? No way!” The two youngest brothers only smirked at each other, Donnie then stepping over to throw an arm around Leo. “Au contraire, my dear brother. Just take a look for yourself.” Leo did, and as he took a moment to really examine the scene before him, it wasn’t long till he caught on just like Mikey and Donnie had. It was the way Raphael looked at you, as you babbled on about something random but dear to yourself. His eyes held a fondness so rarely seen for someone such as him, a softness to his gaze rather than typical annoyance. It was as though he was deaf to your words, instead memorized and taking to memory the way you shined and glowed as you spoke so excitedly. However, Leo was also sure that for you, Raph was also making an effort to remember each and every single one of the words your spoke. Your voice and tone sounding like a melody to the terrapin no doubt. His body language was also a dead give away. Rather than taut or imposingly flexed, Raph sat comfortably with an air of, dare Leo even think it, vulnerability. There was not a sense of guardedness, no such thing as what he gave even around those he considered friends. With an arm slung over the couch and just an inch from being wrapped over your shoulders, an amorous smile and wholesome gaze still on your fast talking self, it was as though in that moment you were Raphael’s entire world. A cheeky grin found its way to Leo’s face. While he was already thinking of ways to tease the broad ninja turtle later, he at the same time couldn’t help but feel a sense of joyfulness for the other. The honorary leader had always been of a realistic mindset, had always been one hundred percent certain that they would never get to experience the pleasures of normal people. While a few years younger version of him would have been skeptical and jaded of this situation, the current more mature him felt nothing but elation. He’d always expected out of any of them for Mikey to somehow end up with a human partner if anything, but seeing Raphael of all people, soft and full of passion, it truly made him happy for the brother he’d so often fight with. Glancing over to Donnie and Mikey, the fondness they each shared while also watching the deepening bond shared between you and Raphael, he had a feeling they felt the same.

~xXx~

#bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse leo #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse donnie #bayverse donatello #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #female reader #aged up tmnt #fluff #anon request #imababblekat's writing

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softshuji · 10 months ago

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𝟐𝟑:𝟐𝟑𝐏𝐌 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎

Title: Nights like This

Summary: Sanzu has always thought of you as his perfect angel, incapable of committing anything as bad as he has, but he can't deny the pleasure that comes from finding out you're just as bad. Back to master list here!

Cw: fem!reader, explicit gun usage and violence, mentions of drugs, Sanzu and reader are messed up I'm ngl, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, brief mentions of gunplay and bondage, cursing, pet names (princess, angel), both reader and Haru are a little sadistic. reblogs appreciated!

Nights like this are hard to come by for you and Haruchiyo. Quiet ones, where the moonlight is enough for you to walk by across the park at night, the crunch of leaves loud underfoot and streetlights winking in and out of life.

You’re lucky, it’s a rare day off for him, and you can tell by the calm warmth of his hand in yours, the lack of buzzing energy, the absence of the shake that’s usually so present on his skin, that he’s clean today. You’re proud, if it can be said, of the effort that would be minute to anyone else, but is immeasurable for you, especially when you consider his reliance on them, the red and white pills that fill his pockets as amply as gum.

He’s looser today, despite the tight coil of terse thick tension coiling in his chest, he smiles often, gives you a softer look, though he’s always had a tenderness for you. You hold his arm, one gloved hand flat against his wrist, the other curled around the swell of his toned forearm, the two of you huddled in thick coats against the early autumn chill, red scarves brushing your chins in tandem.

In truth, he’s trying not to think about it. The pills, the cigarettes, the way he longs for something a little stronger than the bottle of wine you’ve helped down back at the restaurant. His hands are itching and it takes considerable effort for him to keep them still, to keep his thumbs brushing achingly slow circles over your knuckles, an action that has your stomach jumping in time with your heart.

But you know, and you appreciate the effort all the same.

‘And then what happened, Haru?’ you say and you nod in encouragement, a small smile curling at your perfect mouth and Haruchiyo is ashamed to say he loves it, loves the small gestures, the tiny inflection of an accent saying his name, all sugary sweet from your even sweeter lips and he would drown in it if he could, the simple but divine and almost sensual way your lips part to use his name like some toy. He likes the other part too, the coolness of you that calms his heat, that simply listens, and he feels like more than just a glorified criminal for once.

‘Hm? Oh and then Mikey told me to shoot him and we ran for it.’ He finds himself leaning into you occasionally, as if you could warm the cold down to his bones and curl your warm hands around his soul. Well, whatever is left of it.

He likes that you’re not afraid either, that he can simply speak, can come home bloodied and bruised and cuffs dotted with blood and you understand on instinct, take in his face, the glassy eyes that are still alight with adrenaline and pull the ache from his bones with nothing but the softness of your lips on his skin.

He knows you like to mark him as much as he does you. There is no taming your mouth and the hot and fiery bites it leaves on his otherwise pale chest but it gives him a thrill to know that you have the same on yours, that it’s a territorial mark, the both of you sating your hungry appetites with each other.

‘Mhm, is that how you got the blood on your suit earlier?’ And you say it so naturally, with such reckless abandon, such welcome, that the heart Haruchiyo thought was dead in his chest pulses with heat.

You like hearing him talk really, like that he feels comfortable enough to do so with you, to let you in after the years of trying to tame the bratty attitude that had him breaking out in a fever of sweat when he was alone. It’s a perfect balance. You enjoy the sadism of his unpredictability, the wild glint in his eyes when he twirls a gun around his lithe fingers, the softness that melts the razor edges when he touches you, as if he could break you by touch alone.

And he enjoys you, your smart mouth, the quick and dizzyingly attractive comebacks that have his pants tightening when you mouth off at him, always with a suspiciously teasing look in your eye. But he also enjoys this, the ‘you’ that lets him in, both fear and excitement, the understanding that comes from two perhaps equally monstrous souls. He hasn’t failed to notice the way your eyes glass with the clear shine of adrenaline, excitement and thrumming nerves when he twirls a gun in his hands, when he trails it down your lips, blank of course he makes sure (though you are none the wiser) and presses it between your sternum, between your thighs, your hands tied to the bedframe and him, holding your life between his lithe fingers. He likes it, you like it, him wrestling power from you like that, teetering on the edge of life and death.

‘It is, got his blood all over those cufflinks you got me as well, sorry about that Princess,’ he says and you touch your hand to his wrist on instinct.

You lean against him, the fine pink of his hair tickling your cheek, kissing at your earlobes. It’s a perfect picture really, and you warm at the softness of his hands on yours, the lingering scent of gunpowder on his neck, cologne and metal and smoke clinging to the collars of his coat.

‘S’okay Haru, I’ll just buy you another set if you like.’ You bite your lip, engrossed in the sharp shine of his eyes, the cut of his cheekbones darkened by the slant of moonlight, the smoothened diamond scars on his mouth that you long to press your lips to.

The visibility is poor, and perhaps that’s what catches him off guard at first. The rush of a dark shadow barrelling towards him and it’s instinctual, the way he puts himself between you and them, a hand moving for his gun and the other holding you at arms length, angling his body to take the brunt of the hit as the man all but falls onto him.

‘You motherfu-’ He starts and the gun is loaded in his hand, his senses sharpened by the crisp night air, moving to press the trigger when your nails dig into his wrist as the man lowers himself against the wall, his hands thrown up in surrender.

A drunk, that’s all, but it has your teeth on edge immediately.

You dig your nails into his wrist, the glassy shine of your eyes now swirling with the copper hue of the streetlight. ‘Haru, are you okay?’ And you bend, a hand on his forearm to look over him, at the gun that glints metallic silver now pressed to his palm.

He glances at you, then at the man cowering against the terracotta brick, hands thrown up to shield himself, as if the zip of a bullet cannot tear through his flesh.

‘I’m alright, Princess, just going to deal with this prick-’

‘You don’t need to-

‘Huh? Of course I do, he put you in danger Princess,’ he says, fast breath coming in plumes and curling against your nose.

And then, an idea that burns to life in your veins as his eyes flick to you and your smaller hand bunching up the fabric of his coat.

You test it on your tongue, chewing it up as you weigh the scales. ‘Why don’t you….let me?’

He frowns, a shrug of his shoulders as he turns from you to the man against the wall again. ‘Don’t be silly Princess, I just need to-’

‘Haru.’ Your voice an octave lower, authority and command and the click of heels moving into his periphery. He’s raising the gun to the man’s head and he can almost see it already, the back-splatter on his new cufflinks, the one’s he bought for today specifically, the sag of the body as the head lolls against the chest, a splash of red against even redder brick.

‘Haru,’ you say again because something is stirring in your stomach and the rush of adrenaline is coming to life in your veins. ‘Give me the gun.’

‘What?’

‘Give it to me. Let me. I want to.’ Your eyes alight with the pulse of the excitement he’s come to worship. You and Mikey, his deities.

It takes a second, a moment stretched out in time, in which his brows crease and his eyes search yours for the certainty, the surety of what you’re asking. He knows you like to live dangerously, like the power trip as much as he does, the give and take, the delicious and euphoric thrum of authority in your veins.

‘You’re sure?’

You nod and your lips are a firm line, the moonlight falling over a part of your face, cloaking it in shadow. You’ve never tried it before, at least not all the way. You’ve held his guns, weighed them in your hands, felt the warm kiss of his breath on your neck as he teaches you to aim down your sights, the intensity of his stare, the brush of his lips that has your thighs clenching and warmth pooling between them.

For self defence you said, but Haru knew better. You liked it, watching the tilt of his head, the release of power that was so sexy to watch it had goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

‘I’m sure.’ You hold your hand out and the man watches as Haruchiyo hands it over, closing your hand around the barrel, your finger hovering over the trigger. ‘He disrespected you so let me do this.’

He wants to stop you, to stop you taking the plunge, from becoming like him. You, his laughing, smiling angel. You, cute and sweet and there for him when the pulsing in his head becomes loud enough to hear under his skin but he can’t deny there is something so deliciously erotic watching you throw back your shoulders, the hard set of your jaw as you stare down at the man who pushed into him, the cold fury in your eyes that has his pants tightening again.

He expects you to go for it immediately, press the trigger and hear the bang but you don’t. Instead, you pull your hand back and smash the barrel of the gun on the man’s jaw, all bone and sinew cracking with the blow, blood spurting from his cut lip and disfiguring his nose, his hands moving to shield him. He taught you that, and you remembered. It had taken a few practice runs, a swing of your arm without fear, without holding back like he knew you would. And oh is he proud, when the crack of bone reverberates, when a reddened welt appears almost immediately and he could kiss you, could worship you entirely.

‘Apologize to my Husband,’ you say and bend, grabbing a handful of hair as you bridge the distance, your hot breath now fanning the blooming bruise along his cheek. You tug harshly and he whines, the gun now pressed up against his temple, trailing lower till the cold barrel is pushed between his bloodied lips.

‘Did you not hear what I said?’ You dig till he all but gags around the barrel and Haruchiyo’s jaw drops in awe, shock and pleasure and adrenaline all beating through his chest at once. Something twitches in his pants.

He watches, critically, euphorically, as you pull the gun out and push the man towards the ground, the barrel now firmly denting the back of his head as he lands on palms and knees, a hairsbreadth away from Sanzu’s shiny dress shoes. He recognizes this, the setup of it. It's his own, his little game he plays with victims, breaking them before the release. He really has trained you well hasn't he?

The drunkard whimpers, and Haruchiyo almost feels like doing the same in his own twisted way.

‘Kiss his shoes and apologise,’ you say, and the sharp edge of your voice is colder than Haru has ever heard it, colder than the spike of frost clinging to the streetlamps.

This. This feels like power, it feels like pleasure, pride, authority. Anticipation, adrenaline, holding life and death in your hands. You, the grim reaper. You like it, and judging by Haruchiyo’s slack jaw, the extremely obvious bulge in his pants, he likes this side of you too, the calculating side that has him aching with need. It’s at this point he realizes just how much he’s corrupted you, how much he has tainted you with his blood-spattered hands. His angel, falling from grace. And yes, he could easily kill this man without a gun, with one hand in fact but he loves your efforts, your possessiveness, your hold on him.

‘Will- will you let me-?’

‘Yes, yes, I’ll let you go after.’ It’s dismissive, almost bored in tone, as if this is a chore or punishment you’re doling out unnecessarily.

So he grovels, and slides on his hands and knees till he’s a hair's breadth from Haruchiyo’s shiny black shoes. You think you hear him whimper again as he bends, his dry cracked lips trembling with the effort it takes to hold in his tears and control the shake in his voice.

And then he swallows against the tide of shame in his throat and Sanzu’s eyes are saucers as he presses a light and hesitant kiss to the instep of his shoe. It happens quickly , and the man is shuffling backwards as soon as his lips have parted from the black leather.

‘Okay good, now back up against the wall,’ you say and the gun is on his temple again, digging into the bony flesh of his cheek, hard enough to feel the indent against his remaining teeth. You can feel it, the way the flesh parts for you, the pudginess of his cheek underneath the cold barrel, the harsh sharpness of his teeth that block the way. There’s something interesting in it, something so fascinating about how the flesh parts with a little force, so obedient and disciplined.

He gropes blindly for purchase along the tarmac, the streetlight casting a golden light on the filth of his nails, the way they’ve cracked with strain and use, bleeding slightly from where they’ve scraped. He puts his hands up again and shakes, his whole body wracking with the tremors and you can’t deny that despite how shameful it is, how wrong, how perverse, the delicious shiver of pleasure running along your skin is too prominent to be ignored.

Haruchiyo’s lips part to lick at the saliva pooling at the edge, to suck in his bottom lip and pull it between his teeth in need.

You spare a glance at your husband, who stares at you with eyes pooling with lust, affection, admiration, that fine line between love and fear, before moving your sharp gaze back to the man cowering against the brick with his hands raised.

‘You-you said you’d let me go if I did it.’ He shrinks back as you take a step forward, the click of heels deafeningly loud on the otherwise quiet street, the frost kissing at your boots from where the snow has melted on the expensive leather.

‘I did…’ You make to lower the gun, skimming it along his jawbone.

He waits, lets out a breath that’s all mist and dampened sniffles.

‘I lied.’ And in one swift motion, you dig the barrel into his throat and pull the trigger, hard enough, the sleek metal parting for you like the lips of a lover and the bullet is fast and hot as it pierces skin. The splash of blood on your gloved hand is warm too, the smoke curling towards the sky as his head lolls against the terracotta brick, before falling completely, slumping against the tarmac, his hands still raised in shocked surrender.

The gunshot is loud, deafeningly so, a ring and drum of explosive noise that dies just as quick.

‘Princess…’ Haruchiyo is all shock and awe, his voice a muted but lust-driven whisper, his throat dry with anticipatory longing.

It’s over far too quickly for your liking, the metallic tang of blood weak and dissipating into the air, coagulating already between the seams of your leather gloves. You lower the gun and your breath is quick and sharp, shallow enough to be pulsing in time with the ringing in your head.

Haruchiyo moves to take the gun, and it slides from your hand as you stare vacantly at the body, a carcass really, a suit of flesh and meat. And it’s funny, and yet not so, that that’s all it really is, a meatsuit of bones and blood tied together with stringy sinew, a life winked in and out of existence by a few minutes of your time, a split second decision.

Haruchiyo tucks the gun into his trousers, and takes your hand, still sticky with blood, and rubs it between his own. He warms it, brings your wrist to his mouth and presses a hot and chaste kiss to the vein in the juncture. He’s holding himself back, the ache between his legs an unforgettable thrumming of sweet pain. But he knows this is a big moment for you and so he’s letting it simmer for a minute, letting the gravity of your sin unfurl like an autumn leaf crushed underfoot. The weight of it descending on your shoulders is a boulder that presses firmly on your bones.

‘Princess are you okay?’ Despite himself, the vicious, blood-thirsty side that cackles loudly when blood is spilled, that’s hungry to sink his teeth into you in a place as shady and unsavoury as an alleyway, he’s letting you have this, this moment of clarity. His Goddess, his Queen, tainted enough to take to hell with him.

‘I-I’m fine Haru.’ Your voice, when you do find it, wavers on the end of each word, and now that it’s over, the clarity hits like a freight train. The shiver that had run along your skin is beaded with cold and the sweat rolling down your back elicits a dazed shake of your head.

‘Sure?’ He searches your eyes, looking for the come-down, the glassy eyed adrenaline replaced by the shock. Your lip trembles and he presses a quick kiss to your cupid’s bow. You sink against him and he holds you there, under the bronze streetlight, the frost clinging to your skin, dewy and wet and flushed with desire.

‘I killed him…’ you whisper into the fine threads of his coat, your voice woven against his ear, dizzying and confused and almost shy.

‘You did. Now Shall we go home?’

‘Yeah, please.’ Your nails dig into his coat, his perfect lips close enough to feel the breath on the tip of your nose, his neck clean and clear of any marks your mouth might beg to put there. It’s shameful, how deplorable the both of you can be, how you both rein in the desire at once, how your thighs are clenching with the ache settling between them.

He grins, slides a hand down the small of your back and ghosts his lips over the shell of your ear, bites at your earlobe before pulling away entirely. He can’t decide which part he enjoyed the most, the power you held now, with the gun pressing into the gaunt cheek or the part where his shoe was kissed almost reverently at your behest.

He feels divine, he feels as if he could eat the whole world raw and oh is he going to enjoy positively breaking you when you get home.

He shoots a bored look at the body still lying prone against the wall, the splash of red almost black under the bronze streetlight, running in thickened rivulets into the cement. Eh, Bonten will cover for the both of you, he thinks and shrugs. You are, the both of you, untouchable, godly, dripping with unsated power.

Right now he has only one thing on his mind, and that’s pinning you to the bed by the neck and sinking into you for as long as the night lasts. And, he thinks with a glance at the moon now unfurling behind a cloud, the night…is young yet.

a/n: I have nothing to say but the fact that I wrote this with my clit- ok im jkjkjk lol, I have been wanting to write this for ages because nothing excites me more than the idea of my puppy boy getting down awful for a woman willing to kill for him that's all. I need.

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#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo rev

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