#mikey scrawls

[andiberzatto]

mikey and reader with a baby!! maybe reader is upset and struggling with herself, and mikey helps out with the baby!

Magic Sandwich Man (Mikey Berzatto x Single Mom!Reader)

Not exactly a baby but I do have this idea… (I’ll make one with a baby if I can think of a good way to shape the scenario)

Summary: Mikey falls for a single mom with a kid. (Mikey being a blushy mess and Richie being… Richie)

You were going to your usual sandwich lunch spot with your 4-year-old son, Ryder. Ryder has figured out how to unbuckle his own car seat and open doors if the handle is low enough. So as you move to get out of the car and grab your purse, you see Ryder bolt into the sandwich shop, the door held open by one of the nice regulars.

Your son Ryder rushes to the front of the long line and slaps a piece of construction paper with “ Freed Sandwich” scrawled on it in crayon, looking proudly at the men working the front. Richie sees it and laughs, having a young daughter at home, he finds it endearing even if he can’t accept the “coupon”. Mikey would laugh if today hadn’t been so shit. The oven was broken, the Cisco order was delivered wrong. They didn’t have enough money to pay the napkin vendor. I mean, how fuckin broke do you gotta be to not afford napkins? Mikey looks at the kid’s horribly spelled fake homemade coupon. He can’t snap at the kid; he doesn’t know better.

Mikey leans his forearms on the counter, “Hey, bud… we don’t do coupons.” He’s stern, and his gravelly voice slightly scares Ryder.

Ryder pouts his bottom lip, “Free sandmich…”

Mikey shakes his head softly and scoffs a laugh, power to the kid for using his best asset. A pouty bottom lip and puppy eyes.

The bells ring again, just as you rush in frantically looking for your son.

“You’re Mom?” Mikey states more of a statement than a question.

She nods, moving to grab Ryder to pull him out of the way of actual paying customers, and Mikey decides to be nice, “I’ll give the kid a free sandwich, but don’t think I’m accepting counterfeits anytime soon. I got a legit business here…”

She nods, “Thank you so much. He’s just started to learn to walk and how to unbuckle his seatbelt… he’s faster than me most days.” She smiles sheepishly as she rambles, “At least let me pay for it.” She looks to the other man, Richie. “He won’t take my money, but you will, right?”

Despite not making much money himself, Mikey shakes his head once more— he’d never take money from a single mom. Not a chance.

Richie smiles as he notices how adamantly Mikey was to not take your money, quickly jumping in to save the day, “Yeah, we’ll take your cash instead of the coupon. Although it’s very beautifully written…” Richie says sarcastically, gesturing to how some of the letters in “sandwich” are backwards.

Mikey sighed, narrowing his eyes at Richie but ultimately letting it go. He’d get his friend back for this— maybe make him clean the exploding toilet in the hall by the back room for the next few weeks.

She smiles, “How much?”

Richie and Mikey speak up at the same time, Richie saying “5.63” and Mikey saying “it’s on the house”.

Richie shot Mikey a smirk, thoroughly content with how annoyed he was making Mikey. Mikey clenched his jaw as he looked between the two of you. Desperately hoping you’d just take the offer of the free sandwich.

She sighs, “Fine, can I at least leave a tip?”

Richie was just about to speak up, another smirk on his face, but Mikey put his hand over Richie’s mouth, shooting him a look before refocusing on her.

“Yeah, uh, you can leave a tip if you really want. I won’t decline that.” Mikey said, secretly hoping you won’t leave too much.

“How much is 20% on a regular Italian beef?” She’s persistent and independent Mikey will give her that.

“$2.78” Richie blurt out.

Mikey shot his friend another glare , taking a step forward once again to cover his mouth. He looked back at you with an almost pleading expression, “Or you could just tip whatever you want” he said, keeping control over Richie with one hand over his mouth.

She laughs softly and leaves 5 bucks, which was enough to cover the sandwich anyways.

Mikey closes his eyes, groaning in annoyance once you did so. Richie grinned as he watched the money get dropped into the tip jar. Finding the situation endlessly comical.

Once you stepped back, Mikey removed his hand from Richie’s mouth, taking a second to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’s trying to be a gentleman here!

“You’re not gonna win this one cousin,” Richie snickered, clapping a hand on Mikey’s back. Mikey just shakes his head still annoyed at being passed up on his gentlemanly gesture.

“I think it’s very sweet of you to offer the sandwich for free… you seem like a kind man…” she says softly towards Mikey, Ryder standing by her side just tugging on her hand and lifting his feet using her arm like a swing. Oblivious to the whole incident he had caused.

Mikey tried to keep his annoyed facade, but the compliment had him cracking a bashful smile. Folding his arms over his chest. “I just feel bad chargin’ a pretty woman an’ her kid… thas all.” Mikey’s Chicago accent laying it on thick.

She smiles, “noted… and grateful ”

Another chuckle escaped Richie’s lips as he watched the interaction, clearly enjoying the reaction you were able to get from Mikey. He slapped a hand on his friends back speaking up again, “damn, Mikey’s never said that about a customer before. You’re like officially his favorite.”

She laughs, “I’ve been in the store for a solid 5 minutes…”

He usually hates people, man. Richie said with a shrug, his gaze flickers to Mikey and you. “This is the closest I’ve seen to him smiling at work. That alone makes ya his favorite” Richie boasts making Mikey flustered.

She smiles, “I think he’s just got a soft spot for cute kids or pretty girls..”

Mikey simply grumbles in response, noted really wanting to admit Richie’s words were true. Truth be told the beef wasn’t doing too hot, Mikey was pretty desperate and spiraling. So the smile he had from her was the first of few all month.

She grabs a table number and sits in the booth with her son.

Mikey let out a deep side as he watched you walk to the table still, and believe that this had happened to him. richie beside him, his gaze glued to you. He was clearly trying to figure out what you specifically had That made Mikey seem like a human being for once.

She sits and talks to her son and bouncing him softly on her knees as they wait .

Why can you watch from the pick up counter taking notice of how gentle you were with your son. Once again noticed the way Mike was watching. “See”, Richie whispered, “soft spot for kids”.

Mikey’s eyes with dart away every time you looked over his embarrassment of being caught watching evidence and his expression . Richie saw this grinning as he took note he nudge Mikey side, teasing her. You should go talk to her.

Mikey shook his head his grip on the counter tightening as the embarrassment grew. He wasn’t sure why he got flustered let alone over a woman.

Richie, however, was living from Mikey’s reaction and continued to nudge his friend encouraging him to just go talk .

She seems to catch on smiling softly and calling over. “I think there’s a seat here with your name on it. “

Mikey turns around look at you his face flushed with embarrassment. Richie didn’t let him answer pushing him forward as he replied. “I think so too go sit.”

Mikey reluctantly made his way over to the table, taking a seat across from her .

She smiled softly , “so you’re Mikey”

Mikey nodded a little awkwardly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He wasn’t used to having conversations with people that just came in so he wasn’t quite sure how to start this. “Yeah. yeah”, he said, clearing his throat. “You already know my name.”

Richie snickers from the counter watching the interaction intently .

“I’m Allison everyone calls me Allie and this is my son Ryder.”

“Nice to meet you” Mikey said his gaze flitting to Ryder on her lap. That soft spot certainly was showing he had to refrain from making a noise at the sight

Richie couldn’t wait to tease them about this later .

She smiles “you always hit on single moms or just me ?”

Mikey’s face flushed red again as he shook his head quickly replying. “Nah nah I don’t hit on anyone during my shift. “

Richie, who been watching almost dropped to the ground from laughing at the Clear lie that got Mikey even more flustered he was so used to being so composed .

“I get the impression you’re a bit of a playboy “

Mikey groaned dropping his hands to his forehead and said “was it that obvious ?”

Richie seemed to find the situation hilarious having to turn away to control his laughter. Mikey shot glare in the direction before focusing back on her simply replying maybe

“I ain’t judging I’m just trying to read your character.”

Mikey nodded a little bit slightly impressed at how good you were at reading him so far it was a walk of being changed to being treated like just any other worker. Richie had to calm down his laughter instead of watching the whole situation play out muesli he’d never seen Mikey embarrassed over talking to a pretty girl. It was quite sight..

“So why hit on me or did you just want to do something nice for Ryder and that’s all?.”

Both I guess he admitted, avoiding your gay as he did so he wasn’t sure why he had on you so shamelessly like that. He was used to hitting on pretty girl sure but he never actually followed through.

Richie chuckled to himself as he heard Mikey struggled to come up with an answer. He knew damn well why Mikey was interested.

“So why me?”

Mikey shrugged in his response, tapping his fingers against the table. You’re pretty he admitted trying to think of anything more to say.

Richie sighed exasperated by how much Mikey he was struggling, he knew the answer was far deep deeper.

“Thank you I think you’re pretty handsome.”

Mikey tried his hard to hardest to fight the urge to smile, the compliment, his ears turning red with embarrassment .

Decided to be an absolute pain in the ass that he is and decided to jump on the conversation , he doesn’t get that a lot you know

She laughs softly, “Richie this is an AB conversation.”

Richie shrugged his hands up with a smirk “just had to put it out that’s all”

Mikey shot a glare at Richie. He knew full well that his friend was going to use this whole situation to tease and relentlessly. .

“Well, if you’re serious about this, maybe I leave my phone number with you for safekeeping?”

Mikey’s head snapped to look at you shocked by the proposition and he wasn’t expecting you to actually be interested in him. He was so used to being charming his way through a conversation. .

Richie is still standing at the counter, grinned excitedly, waiting for Mikey’s reply .

“I mean, if dating a single mom with a toddler isn’t intimidating for you.” She says softly, glancing over to help Ryder eat his sandwich.

Mikey shook his head. It wasn’t intimidating in the slightest in fact, he was quite intrigued by the idea.

Let out a laugh at Mikey’s eagerness, not being able to contain himself. He was going to have a field day making fun of Mikey later.

She writes her number on a napkin with a heart , “call me or text me.”

She watched silently as you wrote your number with his heart pounding just a little heavier. Was she actually interested or she actually giving me her number? She’s actually flirting with me .

She slides a napkin in his way to which Mikey gently snatched the napkin, holding your phone number, staring at it for almost a concern only long amount of time .

She smiles, “thank you for being a gentleman.” She throws away the paper trash from the sandwich that writer finished eating and stands up, kissing Mikey’s cheek. “I owe you one…”

Mikey almost melted at the kiss on the cheek, his face turning red again you’d surprised him with how little it took to make him flustered .

She waved by to Richie and leaves with Ryder on her hip.

Ricky gave a dramatic wave as you left fighting the urge to cheer for Mikey. Once you left, he wasted no time turning to Mikey and trying to contain his laughter as he blurted out “damn cousin, you got it bad huh? “

A few months later, things with you and Mike he were going pretty smoothly. It was completely smitten with you and your kid writer and was determined to keep things going. Richie, of course never failed to take the piss out of Mikey. Every opportunity he got, and it was practically a daily occurrence..

She comes in with writer on her hip writer, asking for the “magic sandwich, man “

Mike use up the counter again, doing his normal routine of serving customers when the front door burst open he looks up to see a smile spreading across his face as soon as he noticed Ryder sitting on your hip, his expression somehow soften even more .

She smiles “hey baby”

Mikey waved watching gleefully as riders gay started around the restaurant clearly excited to be back . “Hey there, little guy still craving those magical sandwiches, huh?”

Ryder nods and slaps monopoly money up on the counter “one peas” Ryder can’t say his Ls yet.

Mikey chuckles as Ryder slapped the fake money down on the counter, making a show of staring at it with fake disapproval , “ oh, you got money, huh?” he said grinning at the kid “you know I can’t accept this right”

Ryder pouts , “but it good moneys”

Mikey couldn’t help but smile at the kids reaction having to fight the urge to cave in expected at face value . He shook his head replying “nah I’ve seen these bills before they ain’t real.”

Richie is currently in the kitchen justifiably trying to eavesdrop .

She has the monopoly money with real cash underneath it so it looks like Ryder paid .

A smirk goes across Mikey’s face as he took the cash from me quickly catching onto the trick, “ very generous payment” he said, nodding approvingly. “ don’t worry kid. I’ll get that sandwich right away.”

He turned to the kitchen and shout it over his shoulder : “ one sandwich for the special guest make sure we got to use the good tomatoes”

She smiles and uses light of hand to put the monopoly money in her purse before Ryder can see.

Mikey watches you – how you stash the fake cash in your purse, impressed by the trick itself and quickly you managed to get it past your son.

Reggie had come over from the kitchen when he heard his name, his gaze on the kid and almost devilish grin on his lips , “ you’re the one we keep making free sandwiches for! Hey kiddo!” he chuckled ruffling ryders hair.

Ryder giggles, “Sandwitch man yikes mama!”

Mikey and Richie snickered both of them, amused by how Ryder spoke .

Hey little man, thats magic sandwich man to you.” Mikey said with a chuckle.

Richie nodded and replied, “yeah you need to learn to show some respect to the sandwich God”

Ryder nods, “wite..magic sandmich man…” he says with utter seriousness for a four year old.

Mikey and Richie exchanged grins at writers correction finding it completely hilarious . This was one of those rare days where Mikey actually enjoyed his shift most of the fact that you and Ryder came in.

She sneaks a kiss to Mikey’s cheek , “thank you for doing this baby…”

Mikey’s face instantly flushed red, not expecting the kiss and admit everything .

Richie, of course, made a fake vomiting sound, and teased “ get a room you too”

She blocked her hand from writing his view and flips off Richie .

Richie laughed loudly, not expecting the gesture, and he puts his hand up and mock surrender .

Meanwhile, Mikey was still struggling to calm down the redness in his face deepening he was used to teasing but goddamnit what about you was making him flustered so easily .

Days like that became a natural occurrence at the beef, soon everyone on crew knew you and Ryder. They’d even keep dinosaurs shaped cookie cutter in the back for days when they had to serve him white bread instead of sandwich roll. Mikey quickly became like a stepdad to Ryder, even letting him hangout at the shop when the bus route changed and didn’t go to his cul-de-sac he told the bus driver to stop at the beef. He’d swear up and down he wasn’t growing soft but it was because of you and Ryder that Mikey’s smile was back. She saved his life and she would never know it.

[doodlingbiscuit]

Hide N' Seek

This sprouted up from a childhood habit that I did when I was feeling really bad. I feel like how terrifying the turtles could be to the reader isn't touched on enough. The turtles would actually scare the heck out of me if I'm being honest. This Raph also holds a place in my heart, Enjoy!! <33

Bayverse!Raph x Reader - Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,506

Warnings: None

The day had seemed to go on forever and you were beyond grateful when the clock finally ticked to 5 pm. You rushed out of the office and after a thankfully uneventful commute home, you popped some leftovers into the microwave, with your leg now bouncing in anticipation of doing something. You mulled over your choices, using the dull hum of the microwave as white noise. 

There were plenty of things to occupy your time; New York had its fair share of things to do, along with your long list of neglected chores. But… it's been a while since you’ve seen Raph and the other turtles so chores could wait one more day. You hadn’t seen them in a while and it’d be good to break up the droning schedule of only going to and from work. Scarfing down a quick dinner and you were out of the house in minutes. 

The lair was… uncharacteristically quiet. 

Curious, you made your way further into the space to see if they had left a note about where they had gone. They left their fair share of notes, which had evolved into them putting a permanent bulletin board up in the kitchen. You all had decided to keep it updated when the turtles would be gone for an extended amount of time. Per Donnie’s advice, it wasn’t a good idea for the brothers to text that they were leaving the lair undefended. Texting could easily be hacked and well… that was that. Squinting at the board, sure enough, you see in Leo’s scrawling handwriting that they would be out for a few hours. 

You flopped down onto the couch and made yourself at home, dragging a blanket off of the back of the couch to fend off the chill of the lair. You go through the motions of playing on your phone, doodling, and looking at your phone again. The hours had begun to take a toll on you and your eyelids had grown heavy. You start to wonder if they’re even going to be back tonight. 

“You never listen!”

You sit up a little straighter, immediately recognizing Leo’s voice. 

“I never listen?!” Raph lets out an incredulous laugh. “How about you never listening to your team!” 

Cold dread spilled into your stomach, fingers gripping a little tighter onto your phone. You hated it when any of the brothers fought, but it always seemed to be worse with Leo and Raph. 

You sunk deeper into the couch as you heard them getting closer. You knew in your heart Raph meant well, but more often than not, his anger would get the better of him. These outbursts would make it impossible to have a productive conversation with him. Raph was working on controlling his temper in your relationship, but Leo obviously wasn't granted the same sympathy. 

 Glancing towards the entrance, you spot Donnie and Mikey coming in first. 

You gave them both a sympathetic look; you knew that they hated it when their brothers fought with each other. They both shot you a sympathetic look in return, knowing you would have to deal with Raph after his outburst. 

“I just- I can’t deal with this right now, I’ve got more important things to concern myself with.” “Yeah, sure, go concern yourself with something better than your own brother.” Raph huffs out, shrugging off some of his gear onto the kitchen table. 

You get off of the couch and warily make your way into the kitchen area.

“Raph, can we-” Your face must’ve given away your displeasure with the current situation because Raph immediately took it as something against him. “Oh, so you’re on his side too!”

“Why does it always have to be about picking sides?!”

“‘Cause it feels like nobody ever is on mine!”

“I am on your side!” You tell him empathetically. 

“Then fucking act like it!” He slams his hand into the kitchen counter, leaving a huge dent in the side of it. 

Your eyes flicker towards the counter, a painful reminder of how strong the mutants were compared to you. 

Usually, you found his strength endearing; using it to protect the ones he cared about, but now you were unfortunately on the other end, where he could very easily use that strength against you. 

You feel the tears start to sprout up in the corners of your eyes and you try in vain to swallow the painful lump in your throat. 

Crying would get you nowhere.

“You can’t just start hitting things and then think you won!” Your voice cracks, “Use your words!” 

He walks over to you, pushing into your space, and forces you to walk backward until your back hits the wall. 

Raph was taller than you by about a foot. You’ve always known that Raph was bigger than you, that was obvious enough, but he had never used his size to intimidate you like this. 

He lets out an animalistic growl before speaking. “My ability to hit fast and hit hard is what this team needs me for and I’ve solved plenty of problems before just by knocking ‘em out.”

He slams his hands into the wall about your head, the vibrations traveling down the wall into your body.

“I don’t need them, I don't need your bickering and I certainly don’t need you!”

You scrunch up your face in anger at his outburst. Tears are threatening to fall from your eyes and it takes all you have in you to not let them. 

He stands there for a moment, chest heaving in and out. You stare back up at him in anger. His eyes dart back and forth between yours before shoving himself off the wall with a grunt. Cracking his knuckles, he stalks away heading towards his room. 

As soon as he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the wall. A few tears escape from your eyes and you drag a haphazard hand across your face to brush them off. 

You let out a growl of frustration, mad at Raph and mad at yourself for crying. 

It was so fucking embarrassing. 

You storm over to the couch, snatching up your backpack; you had brought stuff over to spend the night and now you just felt stupid. You stuffed your blanket from the couch into your bag. You ripped your earbuds out of your bag, shoving them into your ears. 

The trip home was a blur. 

You caught the subway home, trying in vain not to look like you were just crying your eyes out. Once you finally make it to your apartment, you shove through your door, tossing your backpack to the ground.

You were still reeling after the fight with Raph. Fuck. Him. 

A sob escapes your throat and you dig the palms of your hand into your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. 

You just needed somewhere to hide, you just felt too exposed out in the living room. Walking into your room, you head straight for the closet, shoving aside the hanging shirts and make a little alcove for yourself in the closet. Nudging the door shut with a foot, making everything go pitch black. 

The tears start flowing out of your eyes as your fight sinks into you fully. 

He doesn’t need me?

Choked breaths come in and out of you and you can’t seem to get enough air in. 

You sit there for an undetermined amount of time, letting the calmness of being alone sink into you. Your playlists play on a loop and there's comfort in the songs you know by heart. After a while, your tears have dried and there's an uncomfortable feeling in your throat but you’re too lazy to go soothe it with water so you sit there numbly, still pushed up against the closet wall. 

There’s a knock from outside; a dull echo on the glass window of your apartment. You take out one of your earbuds as you strain to listen, almost brushing it off as something you misheard from your song. The knock comes again and you’re certain it was coming from your balcony. The turtles often came over to your house and instead of risking being seen, they came in through your balcony. 

Though today, you weren’t in any mood to go up and let them in formally, wishing that they would get the message and go away. It’s not like you exactly looked very presentable after crying for two hours. 

“(Y/N)?” A gruff voice sounded from outside. 

Your heart started beating fast. 

It was Raph.

“(Y/N)? Let me in, I wanna talk.” 

God, why’d it have to be him? 

You were still mad at him and if you were being honest, a little afraid of him too. You shoved yourself farther into the closet, trying to be completely still. 

The balcony door slides open and his footsteps start to pad around the room. 

You keep silent as you listen to him walk around, trying to calm your racing heart. Raph walks to the kitchen and then to the living room.

He calls out your name again. “Where are you?” 

You hope he’ll just leave you in peace and let you come to him on your own terms, you didn’t exactly want him to find you hiding in the closet. The closet door creaks open. He peeks his head into the closet, his eyes glazing over the closet until he finds you. Raph looks at you for a moment and you quickly wipe away the tears still drying on your face. 

“Are you… hiding from me?” He breathes. 

Opening the door fully, he stands in the doorway. He’s so tall that his head grazes the top of the doorway. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, searching in his gaze for that anger you saw earlier today. You take time to find your voice. 

“No.” You lie. 

You can tell that he doesn’t believe it and guilt flashes across his face. 

“I deserve it, you know.” 

You immediately try to counteract his words, but he holds a hand up as he continues. 

“No, I do.”

You close your mouth. 

His eyes move down to the spot next to you and he gestures to it.

“Can I?” 

You silently nod up at him, still processing what you want to say to him. 

With some effort on his part, he slides next to you in the closet. He’s so much wider than you that he has to sit at an angle to be able to fit next to you. Raph groans with the effort of sitting down with his legs sitting outside the door of the closet. He keeps his eyes downcast on his hands wringing them together. 

“I-I’m sorry for how I reacted today,” His eyes flicker up to yours. “It wasn’t directed towards you, I just-” He takes a breath. “I get so angry sometimes and I get even angrier when I can acknowledge it’s over something so small. It snowballs into something worse.” 

“I know how that feels,” you whisper, “I get really angry too sometimes, for the stupidest of things,” You half-heartedly laugh. 

“Honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. It keeps me accountable and makes me think before I speak.” Your eyes flick up to him. “But I need someone who can get angry and acknowledge how they’re feeling without taking it out on someone else. I am your s/o. I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you scare me away. I am always willing to listen and try to help you through what you’re feeling.”

There’s a beat of silence as he processes your words. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. 

You scooch over until your head is leaning on his side. You take his hand into yours and slowly lace your fingers with his. His hand is so much bigger than yours and it makes you pause at the size difference. You stare at your entwined fingers. 

“I forgive you.” 

 His grip tightens on your fingers. Firm and reassuring. 

You two sit in silence, relishing in each other's company. 

Raph shifts a bit in his spot, trying in vain to cover up how uncomfortable he is in the cramped space. 

A half-hearted huff leaves you. “Cramped?”

He grunts a bit, “M’ fine.”

…

“...are you sure?” 

He lets out another grunt in affirmation.

You scoot a little bit forward, thrusting a foot forward and standing up in one fell swoop. Wobbling a bit as you stand, Raph by instinct, catches your hand in his and steadies you. Stepping out of the closet, you turn around and look at Raph as he gazes back up at you. 

Your head tilts slightly as you eye him in the closet space- he really did look huge. If you squint a bit, you would almost be able to see a blush forming across his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“A little help here?”

And even though he was just asking for your help out of pure formality, you appreciated the sentiment. You offer a hand out to him and he takes it, but never actually puts any of his weight on it. Along with some help from the closet doorway, he rises to his full height once again.

He reaches over to flick on a lamp in the room, the light catching on the tear stains running down your cheek. Eyebrows scrunching together, his face sets into one of steely determination. 

“Stay.” Raph grunts it out lowly but softly before walking out of the room.

You stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to return. 

He clatters around in the kitchen for a bit, opening and closing cabinets. 

Curious, you tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the cracked bedroom door, before you’re startled out of your thoughts as he walks back into the room. 

Raph’s eyes immediately cast onto the ground as he walks towards you, almost as if he was still afraid of scaring you off. He holds a glass of water and a wet rag in his hands. “Here.” He says, almost under his breath and hands you the glass of water. Pleasantly surprised that he remembered that your throat gets sore after crying for so long, you take a few sips as you look at the washcloth in his hand, wondering why he had it. 

Lifting the washcloth to your face, he waits for a nod from you before swiping it gently under your eyes, soothing the heat that had gathered there. You look up at him and catch the gentleness in which he regards you. You see none of that anger from before and the anger he did have was only directed at himself now. 

Raph was… complicated but then again so were you. Relationships were supposed to go both ways and you trusted him to hold up his part of the bargain. 

You could both work this out.

[mytwokidbrothers]

theres a waycest-adjacent, gerbert idea that lives in my head, born from prison. the song, but, well. also the thing that exists.

and it's g serving a few years, having to do with like manslaughter or aggravated assault or something but he never talks about it. well, nobody talks about what they're in for, but g's one of those guys that'll completely shut down if someone tries to wheedle him about it. but you can tell just looking at him (smallish guy, effeminate-looking, but wily) that even though most of the time he'll roll over if you poke at him that he's only pretending to be no bark nor bite. cause theres something in those eyes that says he'll never forget the slightest slight you throw his way. there's hardly ever a guy in prison you want to fuck with, but ppl learn not to discount him on acc of his brooding-ness. yk what they say about the quiet ones.

bert is his cellmate. bert's in there for battery, and he's not open about it per se, but it ain't hard to figure out and he doesn't brood like g when he's wheedled. bert'll bite your fucking face off if he thinks you're making fun of him or trying to make him do something he doesn't want to do- that's why he's in here, after all. and he sort of takes to g, and g sort of takes to him, and the two of them have an understanding where bert sticks up for g loudly (and physically) if anyones giving him shit and g will, like, piss in someones cornflakes or the prison-version of disgusting behind-your-back get-backs if anyone tries to fuck with bert. and they don't really like each other, not at first, but for all intents and purposes, it ends up seeming like g's become bert's bitch. because g lets himself be passive with bert, lets him tell him what to do, follows him around sometimes, silent and brooding. and maybe they're fucking. maybe. probably, they're also fucking.

and one day, gruffly, out in the yard, g tells bert why he's here. bert gets few details about the violence that transpired (and oh yes, there was violence, but bert's not quite sure how many people were hurt and who, exactly, was doing the hurting (besides g)) but he gets the important bit, and the important bit is that it had to do with g's kid brother. bert has a kid brother himself, so he begins to express his sympathy with g's feelings to protect him, but g corrects him immediately. "with me and mikey- it's not like that," g says. "it's- more." and usually bert would fucking hate being told how he feels by someone else, even by g, but he can tell that right now, g's right. and he's not even mad, because the look on g's face. it's fiercely protective, a fierce, dangerous sort of love, absolutely terrifying in its insistency and intensity, and bert knows when it's time to just fucking listen to somebody.

"i'd do it again," g says, "a million times, if i had to. even though. every night, i'm still fucking there. still living that, seeing myself do what i did, seeing the blood. but for mikey. shit, for mikey, i'd do anything."

and maybe it comes true that g hears mikey's in trouble again. bert sees the way g's fists clench and his pale face gets paler when he gets a letter adressed simply to "g" and is unsigned, written with a scrawling, desperate hand.

and maybe g comes into bert's bunk late one night, whispering against bert's neck that he's getting the fuck out, he has to, mikey needs his help. and maybe bert hears the question where there isn't one, a quiet, seductive, distressed "will you come with?" and maybe bert's decided that he'd stake all of the nothing he's ever known within himself at the heath of gerard's love for his brother, lay everything at the feet of a connection he can hardly comprehend but wants to badly. even if it means understanding the nightmares g shakes through every night and the desolation within his eyes, understanding why the prison-orange they both wear seems to drain the dark soul out of g's blood because it means he's encased constantly in the reminder that he's suffered, is suffering, and will suffer again, because of himself, for mikey. but bert feeds off of the same thing that keeps g going, and he's in awe of it, hungry for it, this love. he wants in on it. so he wants in on the prison break, too.

[turtlecleric]

Bay!Mikey x reader, soulmate au - ink on your skin is mirrored on theirs until it’s wiped off

Cws: implied/referenced self-harm

-

You’d heard about the butterfly project online somewhere. It had felt silly, at first, to think they might actually help, but… you were getting a little bit desperate. So you’d bought some markers. Locked your door. Pulled the fabric of your shorts down so they’d bunch up close to your hips. And started drawing.

Now that you’re done, you’re surprised to find that you really, really like them. You’ve drawn them tiny, with little rounded wings and splashes of your favorite colors. They actually make you smile, and it’s been a long time since you’ve been able to do that while looking at your legs. 

You wonder if he’ll ask you about them. He often sends little messages your way, written on your forearm. Maybe if you stare at your arm long enough, you’ll see his messy scrawl appear. Something like, “Oh, so you like butterflies? My favorite kind are the ones you give me!”

God. You can’t believe you miss a person you haven’t even met yet. 

For the millionth time, you wonder what he looks like. What he sounds like. It doesn’t really matter, since you already know the things that do matter. You know that he’s kind. And funny. And excited to meet you one day.

…So why hasn’t he? You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. You’ve asked him multiple times to meet up, but there’s always something that comes up. 

Maybe… maybe it’s you. Maybe he can tell that you’re… but no, that doesn't make sense. He really does seem like he likes talking to you. Like he wants to meet you one day. It’s only been a few months since your soul ink started to appear, and some soulmates go years before they meet up for the first time.

You hope you don’t have to wait that long. 

Sighing, you brush a thumb along the wings of one of the butterflies. It had seemed so pretty at first, but now… you can’t help but stare at the lines visible beneath the ink.

You try to focus back on the butterflies.

You’d been proud of them. Thought they were cute. Thought that maybe he might find them cute, too. But the longer you stare, the more you wonder if he might not find them cute. What if he’s… annoyed. That you drew all over yourself without consulting him first. He has to deal with this, too, after all. They’re in an easy to hide place, but still. Maybe you should have asked his permission. Maybe you should have been more considerate of the possibility that he might not want to have his thighs covered in little butterflies. The project isn’t a one night deal, either. You have to keep drawing them back on, you can’t let the butterflies fade until the urges fade. It’s been years at this point - did you really think this was a good idea? Trying this method when you have your soulmate to think about? What if he hates them? What if he hates people who might need something like this? What if he knows about the butterfly project, and seeing this is the last straw, and he never speaks to you ag-

You inhale sharply at the sight of blank ink blooming in one of the empty spaces on your thigh. Mesmerized, you watch as the ink curls and glides, slowly but surely, into a picture.

A flower. 

Another one appears in the empty space between two other butterflies. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you watch more and more appear. It’s calming, watching them swirl into existence. Some are tiny, delicate things. Others are large enough for little details. Shadows and textures, leaves and stems and… wow. 

You hadn’t realized he was an artist. There’s no way he isn’t, with how breathtaking these flowers are. And he’d just… he’d just done it, like it was nothing. Turned your skin into a work of art in less than 15 minutes. Somehow taken your pathetic little butterflies and woven them into a complete piece that you could stare at for hours and not get bored. 

It’s incredible.

You feel like you should… say something. You grab a marker and hesitate, unsure, before deciding on just being honest with him.

They’re beautiful!

It takes only a moment before you see him start to write back. It’s a little funny, seeing his chicken scratch and then glancing over to the beautiful pieces of art that he’s turned your legs into. Just another thing about him that makes you smile. But when you see his response, your smile drops.

Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl

You’re not sure why that makes you start to cry. He’s called you beautiful before. Not that he could possibly mean it - you haven’t met yet, you haven’t even exchanged last names or numbers or anything, but… something about it feels… genuine. Genuine in a way that it really shouldn’t be. How could he mean that when he has no clue what you look like? Surely he wouldn’t say that if he did know, I mean, look at you.

But. Somehow. Somehow. You know he means it. 

You grab a wipe from your bedside table, clearing your first message from your arm. His words disappear, as well, and part of you mourns the physical proof of those words, but then he starts to- oh my god. He’s writing down a phone number. It’s- it’s got to be his phone number, right? What else could it be? You don’t have long to wonder, because then you see another message appear. 

If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. Don’t kill the butterflies, okay?

Don’t kill the butterflies. He knows. He knows. And he still- he still wants to talk to you. 

You shouldn’t call him right now. You’re an emotional mess. It’s late, too, and you have no idea if he has to be up early tomorrow. But. But you- he finally gave you- and you just- you just-

Your hands shake as you dial the number. How could you not call him now? How could you possibly wait another second to finally hear his voice? How could you-

“Hey sunshine,” he says - and, oh. His voice. His voice makes you smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Sunshine, he’d called you. Fitting, you think, since it suddenly feels like you’ve swallowed the sun and rays are surely shining through the spaces between your ribs. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling and tracing one of the bigger flowers with a finger. “Me too.”

-

tag list: @luckycharms1701 @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees

[sevenmoreminutes]

rivers and matt totally had a sex dungeon right

no but rivers and mikey did and it was their one bedroom one bed apartment in santa monica where rivers painted all the walls black and was scrawling green album song titles on them like a serial killer and mikey was miserable high on 3 different hard drugs at once at all times building model cars

[for-ruin]

Fault Lines | Chapter Five

TMNT (Human/Magic AU) Part 1 of the Unbound AU Word Count: 5.3k

Because he knows how their magic is connected; knows it in the way he felt safe with them almost immediately, in the way his own magic thrums happily with them all in the same room, and in the way Leo looks at him now with eyes that look so much like his father’s. “Mikey,” he pulls out a few chairs, sitting in one and gesturing for Mikey to join him. Raph leans on the counter and faces them, while Don angles towards them and turns the tap on to fill the sink. “Yeah?” Mikey’s voice is almost a whisper. “What is your dad’s name?”

Read on AO3

Chapter Five: Michelangelo

20 Hours Ago

It’s not working. The stupid spell isn’t working, and Mikey has been chanting for what feels like literal ages. Maybe it has been - he thinks he heard the clock strike midnight, and he’s not sure how long ago that was. His voice is hoarse, his back is sore from sitting in the same position for so long, and he can feel tears of frustration stinging the corners of his eyes. 

This has to work though, so he doesn’t stop. It’s been months since dad visited, and despite the fact that he’s not supposed to leave the house, Mikey has to find out if he’s ok. Even if he wanted to listen to his dad and stay put, he’s risking starving to death if he hangs around much longer. He used the last of his small reserve of cash to order food nearly four weeks ago now, and the pantry is down to half a box of crackers and some rice. He can’t stay in the house anymore, but if he leaves he’s a sitting duck. 

Unless he can get this spell to work. To Unbind a Witch’s Magics, the title had read, right next to another one, To Bind a Witch’s Magics. Dated November of 1987 and both in his father’s handwriting, Mikey had found them scrawled in the margins near the back of the Book of Shadows. 

-

“Wait,” Raphael jumps in through a mouthful of green pepper and sausage pizza, “What the hell is a Book of Shadows?” 

“Good question,” Donatello mutters. 

“Oh,” Mikey is nervous, and keeps forgetting that they don’t seem to know much about…well, anything really, “I can show you actually, one second!” He gulps down another bite of pizza and runs out of the kitchen before they have a chance to say anything. 

It’s up in the attic, and it’s heavy, so by the time he gets back down with the book he’s panting a little and his legs are burning. He pushes aside a pizza box and sets it down on the table with a thud. 

“It’s like…kind of a book of spells, I guess?” He explains as Don leans forward to flip through it, “But more than that. It’s got all sorts of stuff in it. Most witches have one.” 

“Witches?” Raph raises an eyebrow at a particularly gruesome illustration of a person being disembowelled by a gremlin-esque creature.

“Yep.”

“Have a Book of Shadows?”

“Usually.” 

“And your dad wrote this?” Raph taps the leather-bound book and looks pointedly at the other two. 

“Well not all of it, but lots,” Mikey nods, “It was passed down through the family. It’s pretty old.” 

“And the family-” 

“Let him finish first, Raph,” Leonardo’s voice is gentle as he cuts off his brother. Raph screws up his face but gestures for Mikey to continue.

“Um, ok,” he fiddles with a piece of pepperoni, “Well like I was saying, the spell didn’t work. I kept at it until like two in the morning, but then everything started shaking”

Don purses his lips as he closes the book with great care. “Like an earthquake?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Mikey confirms, “Only way smaller. Like just in the room I was in.” He’d checked, actually, later in the day - from what he could tell through the windows, nothing had changed, not even a knocked down tree branch or anything. 

“I felt the same thing,” Don stares determinately at the untouched pizza on his plate, “At the same time, sounds like.” 

“We did too,” Raph indicates himself and Leo. Don’s eyes snap to him, and Mikey tries not to react too much; it does line up with a theory of his, though. 

“You didn’t say anything,” Don says, only mildly accusatory. 

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” Raph says dryly, “Seems pretty tame now, comparatively.” 

“Still,” Leo is thoughtful, “We all felt it.”

“Yeah,” Mikey says carefully, pushing forward in the hope that he can explain everything else before he drops his theory on them, “Anyways, after the shaking I think I fell asleep. The whole thing was really…tiring.” 

-

12 Hours Ago

How long has he been here? Weeks or months or years or forever, it doesn’t matter. He’s always been here. In this house, trapped, terrified, waiting for the shadows and the silence to swallow him up, draining a little more each day and one day he’s sure he’ll wake up and there will be nothing left. 

He was free once, he’s certain. Everywhere, at once, flickering and bright and not stuck here, not alone. But that’s not right, is it? He’s always been alone. 

And that’s not right either; they dance in the corners of his memory, holes in his heart shaped like people, and he’s drip-drip-dripping out of them and he can’t stop. He can’t remember what happened, how old the missing pieces are, how worn down the sharp edges have become. 

They are eroding. There was love there once, home, steady and constant and beating. There were people, but they left, and they forgot, and then they drip-drip-dripped away from him and left behind a canyon. He tries to hold on, to conjure their forms from the wells of his memory, but they slip through like water, like they always have. 

And now he’s drowning, sinking silently into darkness, and through an ocean of water he can hear his father’s voice whisper his name.

Mikey opens his eyes on the attic floor, disoriented in the space between awake and dreaming, surrounded by the burnt out remains of the spell. He must have fallen asleep, or passed out; he certainly feels awful enough for it to have been the latter. If he’d felt unwell before due to lack of food, it was nothing compared to how he feels now. The room spins a little as he pushes himself into a sitting position, and his stomach churns. Breathing is a struggle, like there’s something pushing down on his lungs preventing them from expanding all the way. 

Something must have gone seriously wrong with the unbinding spell. It’s not uncommon for a spell to go awry, especially with a less experienced caster. Mikey has dabbled a bit, but mostly he’s been relegated to watching while his father and guardian did the actual casting. Even then, he’d really only seen them do it a handful of times. Historically, they were hesitant to use any magic at all for fear of attracting too much attention.

We have to lay low, Michelangelo. Story of his life. 

“Whelp,” he grumbles to the empty room as he struggles to pull himself onto a nearby chair, “Pretty low now, that’s for dang sure.” 

And really, he gets it, he does. Magic can be dangerous, and is something to be taken seriously. Anybody practicing witchcraft or using their innate magical abilities risks drawing nearby amortals with sinister intentions - according to Mikey’s dad, at least.

But he doesn’t know what else to do at this point. His very existence draws amortals like moths to a flame, and-

–

“What does that mean?” Don asks, expression guarded and a little scary. An image of the interrogation room from Law & Order pops unbidden into Mikey’s mind. 

“Oh, um,” Mikey stammers, “Well my powers…ok, um, you remember how you froze that guy?” 

Don nods and raises an eyebrow. “Hard to forget.” 

“Yeah, well,” Mikey continues, somewhat bolstered as he recites what his father taught him like some kind of textbook on tape, “That’s an innate magical ability, like a super power basically. Some witches have them, some don’t, and there’s a bunch of different ones. It’s something you can just do, more or less at will. You can also cast spells, which all witches can do, and-”

He trails off as varying degrees of incredulity spread across their faces. 

“Go ahead kid,” Raph says after a moment, schooling his features into a more neutral expression, “It’s just a lot to take in.”

But these are the first people he’s talked to in months, and a voice in his head urges him not to blow this. If he pushes too hard, if he tells them too much, they’re just going to leave and he’ll be right back where he started. Trapped here. 

Alone. 

His heart begins to pound at the thought, and Leo must have a sixth sense or something because he leans forward and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to,” he says easily, and there’s something in his voice that makes Mikey relax almost immediately, “But we’re with you. We believe you. After what just happened, it would be stupid of us not to, right?” Mikey laughs wetly at that, only realizing then that he’d been on the verge of tears. 

“Yeah, right,” Mikey sniffs, then steels himself and continues, “Ok, um, well…my innate abilities are…leaky? I don’t really understand it, but I guess I kind of always give off some magic, even when I’m not casting or using my powers. It draws other amortals, the ones who feed off power or just like to hunt witches for the fun of it. My dad bound my magic when I was little so it wouldn’t be as bad, but he couldn’t fully bind it. Just kind of lessened it, I guess. I’m only really safe in the house, behind the wards.”

“What about when you leave?” Raph asks with a frown. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like when you go to school or…like the park,” he clarifies with a wave at the kitchen windows, “Or wherever teenagers go here.” 

Oh. That. Like the people on TV.

Like a normal person.

“I um…I don’t,” Mikey says, and his voice sounds strained even to his own ears, “I’ve never been to school. Or a park, technically.” All three of them look completely crestfallen at that, and he is suddenly desperate to avoid their pity. “It’s ok! I’m homeschooled, all the normal subjects plus the witch stuff. And we have a little courtyard in the back that’s covered by the wards, so at night I can go outside whenever I want. It’s - it’s really nice.”

Apparently this is not a comforting explanation, because Leo has the same pained look he did when he was bleeding on the couch, Raph looks like he’s about to punch somebody, and Don has pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose roughly. Mikey can practically hear his own pulse, anxiety rising as the silence stretches between them.

Leo is the one to break it, heaving a sigh before speaking. “Has your dad ever told you why your magic is leaky?” He makes air quotes around the last word. 

“No,” Mikey shakes his head, “He says he’ll tell me more when I’m older.” 

“How old are you?” Don asks as he sets his glasses back into place. 

“I’ll be fifteen next month,” Mikey puffs up a bit at that. He’s nearly an adult, after all. 

“Fourteen,” Raph mutters, “And you’ve been here by yourself?” 

“That’s why I’m worried,” Mikey chews at his lower lip, a nervous habit that he’s never been able to break despite his father’s gentle chiding, “My dad wouldn’t just leave me here for this long. I think something might have happened to him.” Raph glances over to Leo, who gives the tiniest shake of his head. 

“Ok, so the unbinding spell didn’t work,” Leo brusquely changes the subject, “Why were you doing it in the first place, if it’s helping to keep you safe?” 

“I needed to go out and look for my dad. And get food and stuff. I thought that if I had all of my magic, I could fight off any demons that might come for me,” Mikey reasons, “Didn’t exactly work out like that, obviously.”  

–

Three Hours Ago

This must be what a hangover feels like. Mikey’s seen people complain about it on tv at least a dozen times, and now he kind of thinks he understands. 

All of the symptoms he’d felt when he woke up in the attic have steadily grown worse throughout the day; his head is pounding, his stomach is in knots, his pulse is racing, and he’s so dizzy now he can barely stand. He’d tried watching tv as a distraction, but daytime tv sucks and his joints are aching now too - the only relief he’s been able to find is lying on the cool marble tiles in the sunroom. 

This is why you don’t just cast spells on a whim, he muses, trying to keep himself from ruminating on the reality that he now faces. 

His dad is still missing. He’s still alone. He’s still unable to defend himself. He’s still starving. 

Only now, he has the added bonus of being sicker than he’s ever been in his life. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force back the pooling tears that threaten to spill over. He takes a deep, slow breath just like his dad taught him, but it’s difficult when it feels like there’s a ton of bricks sitting on his chest. 

He’s going to die here. 

His breathing quickens, small shallow gasps of air that he can’t control. 

He’s going to die in this house, and nobody will know. Nobody will even miss him. 

His hands are shaking, trembling with weakness, or terror, or both. 

Through his panic, Mikey slowly becomes aware that the hairs on the back of his neck are rising. There’s a shiver down his spine and a tingling in his skin; it feels like he’s being watched. He pushes himself up with some effort, looking around the room as he does. 

“Hello?” he whispers, voice small and swallowed up by the empty house, “Is somebody here?”

–

“Yeeeeeah,” Raph interjects again, brows furrowed, “I think that might have been me?” 

“How?” Don demands. 

“I dunno,” Raph throws his un-slinged arm in the air, “I had a dream on the plane, just like he described it. Thought it was kind of weird at the time, but now I’m thinking it was some hocus pocus fuckery.” 

“Raph,” Leo sounds exasperated, “He’s fourteen.” 

“I know swears,” Mikey finds himself a little offended at the idea that he’s too young to curse in front of. “I totally swear. Sometimes.” Raph shoots an amused look at Leo, who looks a bit like he’s trying not to laugh. 

“So you,” Don gestures to Raphael, “Had a dream about Michelangelo. And then he,” Don points at Mikey, “Sensed you in the house? How does that work?” 

“I’m not sure.” And Mikey really isn’t. Powers can work in strange ways, and he’s not exactly an expert. Throw in the apparent connection between the four of them and things got even more complicated. “But I’m glad. I was worried I accidentally summoned a demon into the house or something.” 

“Maybe you did,” Leo glances in the direction of the front door, “Are you sure we’re actually safe here?” 

“Yeah,” Mikey does his best to sound confident, “There was a big burst of magic when you guys got here. Probably big enough that the wards couldn’t hide it. But they should protect against any more amortals coming into the house, as long as we don’t open the doors for them.” He didn’t mean to sound like he was blaming anybody, but a guilty look crosses Don’s face. He adds quickly, “It’s ok, you didn’t know.” Don looks at him, surprised, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You keep saying ‘amortals’,” Raph rests his chin on his good hand, “What exactly does that mean?” 

“Right, yeah,” Mikey mulls for a moment on how to best explain to them, “Well that’s just one word for it, but basically an amortal is anyone who isn’t mortal or immortal.” They all look at him blankly, so he continues. “Well depending on who you ask, they’re mortals who have been granted magic, or they’re immortals who have been corrupted by mortality.” 

“You know what,” Raph waves his hand and grabs another slice of pizza, “Forget I asked. Doesn’t seem that important right now.” 

“It’s just a general word for magical beings,” Mikey presses, “Witches, demons, angels, yokai, monsters, fae, oracles, any supernatural type you can think of. Amortals.” 

“And you’re saying that you, and all of us,” Don gestures around the table, “We’re amortals.” 

“Witches, yes,” Mikey nods, debating explaining to them how witches differ from other amortals and deciding against it. 

“I’m just going to roll with it at this point,” Raph shrugs and takes a massive bite of his pizza. 

“Back to the safety issue though,” Leo says, “You’re sure nobody can get in here?” 

“No amortals,” Mikey nods, “Which is why I was so surprised when you guys came in.” 

–

One Hour Ago

Mikey managed to drag himself up to his room shortly after the non-encounter with the non-entity. He’s not sure who or what he sensed in the sunroom, but whatever it was, it’s long gone now. Hopefully it’s not some demon that’s secretly lurking in the basement or something, but honestly at this point he’d welcome an end to his misery. 

As he lies in his bed, shivering under the covers and feeling quite sorry for himself, he hears what sounds an awful lot like the front door swinging open. For a moment he wonders if he’s hallucinating, but then he hears footsteps. 

It should be impossible; there’s a large deadbolt that should keep out anybody looking to commit an old fashioned break and entry, and incredibly strong wards that should keep out any amortals looking to murder him. 

And yet. There are creaking floor boards and low voices coming from downstairs. At least two people, maybe three, it’s hard to tell. Mikey pushes his comforter back and rises shakily to his feet, fighting back the bile that rises in his throat. His brain feels like it’s pure liquid sloshing around in his skull as he makes his way out of his room and down the hallway as quietly as he can. The voices get louder as he gets closer, though they don’t seem to be moving towards him. As he approaches, the low hum becomes a little clearer and he can make out a few words; they’re talking about doctors, and a hospital, which doesn’t exactly seem like the sort of thing demons would chat about. 

He creeps closer and peers through the banister to see three people gathered at the bottom of the stairs, one of whom is holding a family photo that he’s taken down from the wall.

That really doesn’t seem like a thing a demon would do. He grips the railing with both hands to take some of his weight off of the stairs, and moves further down towards the landing to get a better look. It’s all going really quite well, and Mikey is silently singing his own praises on his newfound stealthiness when he steps onto the landing, causing the old wood to emit a creak that’s about as sneaky as a banshee’s wail.  

All three of them turn and lock their eyes onto him at once, and the one holding the photo steps in front of the other two protectively. If that doesn’t give it away, their matching features do - these three are almost certainly related. 

Mikey stares at them, paralyzed with fear and indecision; they could very well be demons, but the one in front has kind eyes, eyes that remind him so much of his father’s it catches him off guard and his breath hitches. The weight he’s been carrying in his chest all day feels impossibly heavy as he looks down at them. 

They’re all so familiar, and the thought that he knows them somehow keeps burning through his brain, like a movie he watched half asleep or a dream half remembered. He knows them, but there’s no recognition in their eyes, and for some reason the fact that these strangers don’t know him is like a knife in his gut. 

 “Enemies often look like friends, Michelangelo,” he can practically hear his dad’s voice ringing in his ears. These guys look utterly bewildered though, and there’s something about them that leaves him longing to trust them. He leans on the banister for support, not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand let alone how he’ll fight them off if they do attack. His stomach lurches, and he thinks he might be sick. 

“Who are you?” Mikey demands, trying to sound confident and in command and not like he’s about to drop. There’s a buzzing in his ears now, and as he clumsily takes another step towards them it swells and becomes a chanting that they don’t seem to hear; his gut flips and his heart stops beating, and the world begins to shake and light is given form above them and -

–

“And that’s when I passed out,” he concludes, watching them carefully for their reactions. 

He left out a few parts, like the fact that they seemed so familiar and how much Leo looks like Mikey’s dad. The longer they talk, the more he sees it; they all have certain mannerisms and features that remind Mikey a little bit of his dad now that he’s looking for it, but with Leo it’s striking. 

“Are you feeling ok now?” Leo asks him, and there it is again, in his concerned eyes and soft voice. Yoshi. 

“Much better,” Mikey nods, blinking back to reality, ”Food helped.”

“You seemed better even before you ate,” Don points out. 

“Yeah,” he affirms. And here’s the part he’s been dreading, the part that might make them leave, the part that could guarantee he spends the rest of his life alone in this house. But he has to be honest with them, so he bows his head and inhales deeply to center himself before continuing. “I have a theory about that.”

Their eyes could burn holes in him, and for a second he feels an overwhelming urge to run, to hide, to avoid this feeling of being completely exposed like some kind of gazelle on a vast plain waiting to be picked off. 

But then Leo throws him an encouraging smile, and Don’s eyes soften a bit, and Raph slides over the box with the last slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Well don’t leave us hanging kid,” he says as he leans his chair back to balance on two legs. Leo sends a sidelong look of disapproval, but Mikey notes that he repositions himself so he’d be able to catch Raph if he were to tip the chair over. 

It looks nice, having someone there in case you fall.

“I think the spell worked,” Mikey blurts out, “The unbinding spell, I mean. I think it worked, it was just delayed. It was kind of…sitting in me all day. That’s what made me feel so bad. It was just there, waiting.” 

“Waiting for what?” Don asks, voice low. 

“Us,” Leo murmurs, wincing when Raph slams his chair back down to all four legs. Mikey nods silently and buries his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice muffled by his palms, “I think I accidentally dragged you guys into this. I think our magic is connected somehow, and the unbinding spell released all of it together. I’m so sorry.” 

He waits for them to say something, too afraid to look at their faces. 

“Mikey,” Leo is the first to speak after what feels like an eternity, “It’s ok, we’re not…we’re not mad at you. You didn’t do it on purpose.” Mikey spreads his fingers apart so he can look through them. Leo is leaning forward, one hand reaching out, poised in mid-air like he’s not entirely sure what to do with it. Raph and Don both look somewhat distressed, but neither of them seem angry. Mikey drops his hands into his lap, twisting them into the front pocket of his sweater. 

“And besides,” Raph clears his throat, “It’s kind of cool. We’re like the X-men now, basically.” 

“Great,” Don rolls his eyes but his words have no real bite, “We’re mutants.” He stands and begins to clean up the mess on the table, diligently avoiding spilling anything on the Book of Shadows that still sits in the middle. Raph helps as much as he can with only one free hand, and Leo sets to the proper disposal of a bunch of broken glass that’s been collected in the dust pan. 

Mikey gathers the dishes and watches them, how they speak to each other and the things they don’t say and the way they move in tandem even when they’re not entirely on the same page; they love each other. He picks up the Book of Shadows, staring at the embossed family symbol on it as something passes over him, an ache or a longing or a wish maybe. When he was very young, he used to pretend he had brothers; imaginary friends, his dad had said, and now he wonders if some part of him knew they were out there. 

Because he knows how their magic is connected; knows it in the way he felt safe with them almost immediately, in the way his own magic thrums happily with them all in the same room, and in the way Leo looks at him now with eyes that look so much like his father’s. 

“Mikey,” he pulls out a few chairs, sitting in one and gesturing for Mikey to join him. Raph leans on the counter and faces them, while Don angles towards them and turns the tap on to fill the sink. 

“Yeah?” Mikey’s voice is almost a whisper.

“What is your dad’s name?” 

The steady hiss of water fills the room, white noise that drowns out the sudden heavy silence. Don and Raph are both watching him intently now, and Leo’s leg twitches nervously, betraying his calm expression.

“Yoshi,” Mikey says, and for a second his heart plummets because what if he’s wrong and these really are just strangers?

“Hamato?” Leo’s hands are clasped tightly now, and his features are taut. Mikey can feel a little surge of magic from him as one of the cupboard doors rattles on its hinges. Raphael’s eyes narrow and lock in on Leo, who relaxes his hands slightly. 

Mikey nods, dropping his head to look at the floor. 

“And your mom?” Leo speaks slowly, measured and careful. The magic ebbs away, and the rattling stops.  

“I never met her,” Mikey swallows, still holding the unwieldy book in front of him like a shield, “Dad says she died when I was little. But her name was Shen.” 

Somebody turns the tap off, and there is the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. Mikey looks up to see Raph and Don have come back to the table and are looking at Leo with equally unreadable expressions. 

“Ok,” Leo seems to be at war with himself briefly before taking a deep breath, “We came here because this is our father’s house.” Mikey’s heart is pounding against his chest, and he feels a bit like his brain is about to float right out of his head. 

“You’re…you’re my…” he can’t bring himself to say it. It feels so fragile, a truth like porcelain that will shatter if named. 

“Pretty sure we’re brothers, squirt,” Raph breaks into a grin, and Mikey could cry with relief. 

“It does seem like the most likely explanation,” Don runs a hand through his cropped curls and exhales forcefully, “Although I still don’t understand why dad would-” 

“My dad!” Mikey exclaims, then corrects himself, “Our dad, I guess. But you guys must-do you know where he is? Is he ok?” 

He watches their faces crumble, and the faucet is drip-drip-dripping, washing him away and drowning him in their silence; his pulse begins to race, and his stomach drops, and he knows what Leo is preparing himself to say. 

“He’s not ok, is he?” His voice is thick around his tightening throat, and he can’t stop the tears that are already spilling over. 

“I’m so sorry Mikey,” Leo murmurs, and his eyes are bright. Behind him, Raphael wipes at his eyes ferociously and Don bows his head. “He had a heart attack in December. He…he died the same day.”

And the dripping is a hammer, a thundering in his ears, a furious river that pulls him apart piece by piece. His edges are washing away, peeling off of him in little bits he can’t hold onto. Leo is talking, or Raph, or Don, and it’s urgent and panicked but he can’t bring himself above water long enough to understand or even care. He can’t breathe, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s drowning here in his kitchen or if he maybe just forgot how. 

Dad.

He’d known, he’d known deep down that his father would never abandon him like this unless something had happened, but he’d hoped he was wrong. 

First Beren, now Yoshi. 

He didn’t get to say goodbye to either of them. 

He can’t breathe. He’s washing away, and his chest is burning, his lungs screaming for air.

He wants his dad. 

They’re shouting now, he thinks, but he can’t really hear them above the roaring in his ears. His fingers hurt as he tightens his grip on the Book of Shadows, a tenuous lifeline connecting him to his father. 

And now there are lights surrounding him, tiny dancing things that converge around him and Leo and Raph and Don, and dimly he realizes that he has lost control over his powers and tries to reel back before - 

The light grows so bright that he has to squeeze his eyes, and he recognizes the skipping sensation that he feels in the pit of his stomach whenever he uses his innate magical power - the ability to teleport to another place. 

When he opens his eyes, the light has faded and he’s standing in the living room of a house he’s never seen before, still clutching the Book of Shadows to his chest. He panics for a second before he sees Leo, Raph, and Don, all on their hands and knees looking vaguely ill, but mostly alright. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stammers, shocked out of his anguish-stricken state by the sudden change, “I don’t even know where we are.”

“This is our house,” Leo looks up from the floor and then clenches his eyes shut again with a groan. Mikey kneels down beside him and places a hand between his shoulder blades. 

“The first few times can be a bit jarring,” he mumbles, absolutely mortified, “I’m so sorry.” He turns to the sound of Donatello violently retching into a potted plant. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I’m so-” 

“It’s fine,” Raph winces and reaches out to pat Don’s back. “Saved us the cost of the return tickets.” Don nods, wiping his mouth and rolling onto his back on the hardwood floor.

“I’m sorry,” Leo sits back on his heels and grips Mikey’s shoulder firmly, “I shouldn’t have told you like that.” 

“No,” Mikey loosens his grasp on the Book a little, “It’s fine, I…I don’t know how else you would have told me. I kind of knew, it just…it’s hard. I’m sorry I freaked out.” They’re all looking at him now, that same pity in their eyes. “I think I just need some time, I’ll go back and leave you guys alone, I’m so-” 

“No!” They all speak at once, and Don sits up quickly with a grimace. Mikey isn’t sure what to say. 

“Stay here,” Don’s a little breathless, but insistent, “At least for the night. We have an extra room.” Mikey looks at Leo, who smiles warmly.

“Please,” he says simply, “Rest, take whatever time you need. In the morning we can set up some of those wards you mentioned. If, uh…if dad could do it, I’m sure we can figure it out.” 

“Are…are you guys sure?” Mikey hardly dares to ask. 

Raph stands and pulls back the curtains covering the nearby bay window to reveal a slightly worn but tidy row of brownstone houses across the street, and massive high rises in the distance. 

“Welcome to New York, kid.”

[daydreamgoddess14]

Aspirations pt. 2

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Sydney Adamu / Carmy Berzatto - getting a little spicier this chapter but we're not quite there... yet 👀

Syd is 12 months deep in a crush she wasn't expecting, Carmy is 6 months into a relationship he doesn't want, The Bear is 4 months open and Nat is 2 months into motherhood....

~~~~~~

They’d come far in the 7 months since The Beef had closed and The Bear had started. The three month build period and all of its associated problems had also brought them closer as a crew and allowed many to flourish. Syd could hand on heart say that she and Richie got on better than ever - for the most part - and she and Carmy had only grown in confidence when working together. They spoke without saying a word, she’d only been half joking when she’d told him she couldn’t read his mind. She could read his working mind. They completed each other's sentences, anticipated each other's needs and had whole conversations with just one look. As Carmy had driven off down the alley to get Richie, aside from being utterly blindsided by his kiss - which he didn’t even appear to realize he’d done - she was terrified over doing a whole day without his input or quiet reassurance. Somehow on opening night, just knowing he was stuck in the walk-in was enough, she could still hear him hollering and banging. Today, she wouldn’t have that. She needn’t have been worried.

“Baby Jeff, c’mere - I got ya something.” Tina ushered her over when she’d finally convinced her legs to carry her back inside. She held up a small paper bag and watched with delight as Sydney opened it. It was a beautiful patterned silk scarf with purples, blues and fuschia pinks.

“T, what’s this for? I can’t take this -”

“You can mi niña - look,” Tina showed Syd the same scarf she’d tied neatly at her neck. “We’re a team - me and you, and we’re gonna fuckin’ kill it today - ya hear me?” Before Syd could clear the lump in her throat, Tina had her arms around her and lifted her clean off the floor.

“Thank you, Chef. Thank you.” She murmured, placing a kiss on Tina’s cheek. 

“También te amo cariño” The elder woman filled in, squeezing Sydney’s cheek. Syd quickly swapped the scarves over and assessed where they were with prep, clocking Nat in the office. She left Tina to check in with Ebra, and hovered in the doorway,

“You good, Nat?” Though Nat had been around since Mikey had been born, doing the weekly books and for general fleeting visits, she’d not done a full shift at work so far.

“I cried all the way here. This is the longest I’ve left -” she broke off with a sob, Syd by her side immediately taking her hands,

“I know, big day. We got you, ok?”

“What if I need to pump and we’re busy?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I promise we’ve got you.” Syd told her, “I put some paper up on the window so you can have total privacy. I can’t offer you peace and quiet, but I can make sure no one comes in. I even put a ‘please knock’ sign up.” She held the door so that Natatlie could see the sign, which didn’t read please knock, it read ‘you better fucking knock’ in scrawled sharpie. Nat gave her a grateful, watery smile.

“Thank you, Syd.”

“I gotta get back out there, you gonna be ok?” Nat nodded in confirmation. Back at the expo, Syd felt her phone buzz in her back pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Richie.

fuckin’ kill it Syd

Thanks man - we will!

She fired off a quick reply and got back to work. It felt good, the original Beef team having her back. They threw the word ‘love’ around like breathing, actively telling each other regularly. It had started with Nat and Tina, and after years of a lack of real female company or support system, they soon had Syd doing it as well. She’d stopped short of saying it to Carmy. Tina and Nat had plenty enough to go around, and the last thing she needed was that word muddying the waters - even if they did all know it was meant in the familial sense. She stood next to Marcus and helped him prep peaches, needing to ground herself in actual hands on work. Once they were caught up, she moved on to review with Tina,

“10 minutes til doors, guys.”

“Yes, Chef.” Natalie came out from the office and stood alongside her, giving her hand a squeeze.

“We do this, we’ve earned a girls night.” She concluded.

“Yeah? We just take off and leave Richie and Carm to it?”

“Fuck yes, I’ll even donate Pete for reinforcements since he can’t survive without you.”

“Richie is getting better - we only fight every other day now.” “I meant Carmy, dickwad.” She rolled her eyes. “Right, let’s go?” Syd nodded,

“Let it rip.”

“Love you, Chef.” Nat gave her hand one final squeeze and pushed through the swing doors to unlock. 

*

It went perfectly. Syd, Nat and Tina were on cloud nine during clean down. Music blared and they sent Sweeps to the bodega down the street with strict instructions to come back with wine. By midnight, everyone had left for the day except Syd and Nat who’d taken up their usual table in the restaurant. Nat sat with her feet up on Syd’s lap and they both nursed tall stemmed glasses of wine. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Nat mumbled sleepily.

“Don’t drive, I’ll book you an Uber.” Syd reached for her phone and went to pull up the app, seeing a message from Carmy as she did so.

22:25 Fak said you’re the dream team. Told me not to bother coming in Monday?

She booked a ride for Nat and was about to respond to the message when they heard the back door.

“You’re still here.” Richie grinned through the window from the kitchen,

“Syd’s just got me a ride, I can’t drive back.” 

“I’ll take you.” Carmy followed closely behind Richie.

“I’ll take the Uber for myself then.” Syd smiled, happy to not have to consider the L for a change. “How’d it go?” 

“No complaints. You?” Richie pulled up a chair the other side of Syd and nudged her,

“No complaints. Less shouting.” She ribbed him.

“You missed me. Both of us, I bet.” He pointed,

“Keep telling yourselves that.” Syd replied with a glint, catching Carmy’s eye over Richie’s shoulder. She'd managed to put the kiss to the back of her mind all day, grateful for once that he hadn't been around to remind her of it every passing second. Outside, the Uber made itself known. “C’mon mama, home time.” She moved Nat’s feet carefully from her lap and pulled her friend to standing. “I’ll swing by and clear this up in the morning.” She gestured around her at the couple of glasses. 

"Monday, we'll do it Monday." Carmy confirmed. Nat grabbed her bags while Richie went to lock up the back. 

“We missed you little brother, but fuuuuck we were so good!” Even through exhaustion, Natalie sounded jubilant, "you shoulda seen us!"

“I knew you would be.” He replied with a smile, eyes on Syd.

“See, you were stressing for nothing. Like Fak said, we’re the dream team,” she shrugged, trying not to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. “I gotta go before this Uber driver murders me cos I took too fuckin long. See you guys later, bye Rich,” she called out to the kitchen.

“See ya, Syd.” She tried to leave with just a wave but Nat pulled her into a bear hug,

“You were amazing! Can we do girls night next week?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Get some sleep, Nat.” The women parted and Syd found herself swept up by Richie instead, coming in from the kitchen. She moved to give Carmy a one-armed hug but he wrapped around her fully.

“Thank you for today,” he said quietly into her ear. 

“Night, Carm.” She tried to play it off like the open door and the cool fall air made her shiver, rather than his breath against her neck. Once she was in the car, she let out the breath she’d been holding. She held her phone in her hands, a habit picked up from years of needing to fake phone calls when being driven around late at night by a stranger. It vibrated in her hands with a picture and a message from Nat.

Home to my baby, thank you for looking after me today ❤

My favorite Berzattos - anything for you xo

Favorite. Sure, sure. ILY.

She shook her head with a smile. Her bond with Natalie had become one of the most surprising yet brilliant things to happen since she walked into the tomato splattered kitchen and saw a pile of cash on the floor. They fell into an easy friendship, and soon enough, Carmy wasn’t the only thing they had in common. She thanked the driver and stepped out of the car, her phone going off again. Carmy.

You get back ok?

Just got in. Going to sleep for 12h, eat, and then sleep again.

Her message got a thumbs up in response, and she wasted no time in doing exactly as she said she would.

*

When she stirred on Monday morning, it wasn’t to the sound of her alarm. She had no idea what had woken her, but it was early enough to still be dark outside. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she first assumed she'd had a nightmare. She took deep breaths to settle herself, trying to remember the dream. She'd been at work, in the walk-in - locked in like Carmy had been on opening night, but she hadn't been alone - and she'd locked it herself. She had her back pressed up against the cold door and Carmy crowding her, with one hand on her hip and the other at the nape of her neck. He was whispering in her ear something she couldn't quite make out, but the memory of how it had made her feel was all coming back. The way his lips had grazed her skin, his encouraging kiss. She closed her eyes and let her memory and her hand wander, wishing she could remember his words. She focused on how his hands had felt, fingertips finding the hem of her t-shirt and the delicious warmth of his palm on her breast. She nudged her underwear to one side and ghosted her index finger over her clit, 'I want to give you everything,' he'd said, 'you don't know what you do to me'. The dream was fading fast, leaving her tense and desperately seeking release. Her fingers moved on autopilot, she'd been single for a long time, knew the most efficient ways to get herself off, but it's just not… working. She couldn’t get there, thoughts of Carmy are too fresh in her mind, and it's like her body knows she could never come close to comparison by her own hand, so stubbornly gives up instead. With a groan of frustration, she threw back the covers and decided to head to work instead. She picked up breakfast on the way - sticky, sweet Portuguese tarts and fresh coffee beans. Surprisingly, she's not the first one there. The restaurant had been cleared of the wine glasses and plates she and Nat had used on Saturday, and music played from the radio in the kitchen. 

"You're early," he greeted, "I was making breakfast."

"Couldn't sleep. What'dya make?"

"Eggs benedict. What's in the bag?"

"Portuguese tarts." He took it from her and replaced it with her coffee cup, "breakfast dessert. Thank you."

"Every meal comes with its own dessert?" He grinned, 

"Now that's the dream." They ate while standing at the expo, she begrudgingly admitted that his hollandaise sauce was the best she'd ever had, and it had made him cocky until the Portuguese tarts had finally shut him up. Neither of them mentioned the kiss.

"How traditional do you want it to be?" He asked, bringing up the festive menu.

"Is it Scroogey to say not at all?" She mused, taping her pen against her mouth. 

"The holidays aren't exactly my favorite time of year, so I'm gonna say no… customers though?"

"They want to be slapped in the face by the holidays. They want synthetic pumpkin flavor pumped into every liquid available."

"We'll make that a Marcus problem." He grimaced, "synthetic pumpkin?" She laughed, 

"No, no I'm getting there. How about Tandoori Plaice and spiced Pumpkin as an appetizer?" She scribbled down ingredients, marking the ones she knew they didn't have to hand. "So it's like a spiced soup, with a gorgeous piece of fish on top, charred seeds and a little pumpkin oil?"

"Sounds fire, Chef." As usual, she was suckered in by his easy, generous praise. "Oysters?" He asked, 

"Dude, no. Oysters?! Are you gonna spend the next four months shucking them? Cos I can't do it for shit, I nearly cut my fucking hand off last time I tried. I hate doing them."

"You need a better fucking teacher then."

"Fine, we'll get some and you can show me. But if I lose my hand I'm definitely blaming you." She pointed her pen at him,

"Heard. I promise I won't let you lose your hands. They're too valuable." 

"They're not always that cooperative." She muttered, thinking back to earlier in the morning. They passed more ideas around throughout the day as they were joined by everyone else. “Hey, can I take Saturday night to hang with Nat?”

“Sure. We could do the menu at hers on Sunday? Cook everything, finalize it?”

“Yeah, that would be pretty great actually - helps her feel involved.”

“Heard. I’ll call her.” His hand brushed across her back as he moved behind her to get to the office. Syd was still staring at the door when Tina called out to her,

“¿Ves algo que te gusta, cariño?”

“Fuck off, T.”

~~~~~~~

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Short Muke Fics (2) Masterlist

part one

3 A.M. (ao3) - thegiftboxxx M, 4k

Summary: Five times Michael accidentally meets Luke in the bathroom and the one time he meets him there on purpose.

“Ah, sorry Doll.” (ao3) - cliff0rd T, 4k

Summary: Luke is a shy, quiet boy who works in a small Café and Bad boy Mikey just loves seeing him blush.

breathing deeply, walking backwards (ao3) - maiamaryse N/R, 1k

Summary: “Um, are you okay there?” A voice asks from next to him, and he whips his head round to see, of course, hot snapback guy.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Luke groans, and the guy looks a little taken aback. Luke is in no state to care, “No, hot snapback guy, I am shitting myself.”

Butterfly House (ao3) - thegiftboxxx G, 2k

Summary: Luke and Michael go to a butterfly house for their anniversary.

cause I’ve been trying way too long to try and be the perfect song (ao3) - luke hemmings (wishingforlondon) T, 1k

Summary: Thinking about Michael was, for Luke, just a really bad idea.

Dating Protocols of Santa’s Elves (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) T, 5k

Summary: Or: 5 times Luke brings a kid to Santa’s Grotto and 1 time he brings himself

dont waste your time on me (ao3) - sweaterpawlyssa 994

Summary: Luke has a bad day and Michael adds onto it.

or where Michael is really oblivious to Luke being upset, ends up being a complete douchebag and when he finally figures it out, he cuddles him and sings him ATL

Drunken Miracle (ao3) - YaoiLover66 M, 4k

Summary: It was a drunken mistake, a one night stand that we barely remembered in the morning. But the proof of that night is here, right in my hands and forming inside my stomach. A new life form, one that I’m responsible for; Eighteen and Pregnant. My life just became a little more complicated.

Gay Doesn’t Mean Rainbows (ao3) - walking_crisis69 T, 3k

Summary: “Your breath tastes like smoke.” Luke said as he pulled away, running his fingers through his enemy’s hair. “And your breath tastes like rainbows.”

hold me close (don’t ever let me go) (ao3) - mukelftv (eddiethebanisheds) T, 2k

Summary: 6 months have passed since Luke and Michael met on that fated day at the mall.

i got a long-term plan (with short-term fixes) (ao3) - bellawritess michael/luke, jack/alex T, 4k

Summary: Michael comes into the bookstore one day with the weirdest request he’s made of Luke in the almost-year they’ve known each other.

“I need a hot boyfriend,” he announces. “You in?”

Luke frowns very slowly. “To help you find a hot boyfriend?”

“To be my hot boyfriend,” Michael says, like it’s obvious. “Temporarily.”

It started out a game…(ao3) - SilentlyFighting G, 5k

Summary: It started out a game - a joke - but slowly became the truth ….but was I ready to accept that?

It was always you (ao3) - orphan_account N/R, 2k

Summary: When Michael broke up with his girlfriend and isn’t that sad like he propably should be.

I’ve Got The Recipe (ao3) - FayeHunter T, 4k

Summary: Michael keeps going back to the same coffee shop and no, it has nothing to do with the cute barista.Or 3 times Michael went to Luke’s coffee shop to see him and 1 time Luke visited Michael at his job

Lollipop (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance E, 3k

Summary: Seeing Michael flustered on stage after dancing against him was a turn on for Luke. He knew he had to get Michael in his bed; he just had to build up Michael’s frustrations and wait for the right time to do it.

(not) just friends (ao3) - galacticsugar T, 4k

Summary: His eyes land on the folded paper, drawn in by Luke’s scrawling handwriting.

Specifically, on his name in Luke’s handwriting.

Casually, like he’s being watched, Michael picks up the paper and carefully unfolds it. It’s from one of those hotel room pads, branded with the hotel logo, which Luke improved with some artful squiggles. At the top, it says Michael Mix, the peaks of the Ms rising high above the rest of the letters, both words underlined twice. And below that, a list of songs.

Not Without You (ao3) - pilotmikey G, 3k

Summary: Michael doesn’t want to go to prom without a date, but Luke doesn’t want to go to prom without Michael.

permanent jet lag (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember G, 1k

Summary: Meanwhile, Luke had tried sitting in practically every position he could in his cramped airplane seat and, as far as Michael knew, had yet to drift off for more than a couple minutes at a time. Michael glanced over to see Luke burrowing his face into Ashton’s shoulder. His neck was bent at an awkward angle and he was more hunched over than Quasimodo. To put it simply: he looked like crap.

this could be heaven (if heaven was an actual place) (ao3) - yellingatbabylon T, 5k

Summary: It’s a feeling Michael was hesitant to believe he’d ever experience himself. Now he’s filled two albums just trying to describe it.

You’re Place Is Home To Me (ao3) - fckmuke N/R, 3k

Summary: Luke is fed up with Michael giving him shit and it just goes down from there.

[pinewaterbacc]

When Christina got home from school, she decided to spend her last afternoon as a child playing with her younger siblings, which was just too adorable not to take a photo of!

"Bababa," Michael babbled as he munched on the crayon. It was bright and colourful, so logic dictated it must be tasty as well.

"Mikey! Don't eat that!" Chrissy giggled. "Look, you use it to draw! I thought you liked drawing?"

Michael looked at the half-chewed crayon. It hadn't been as delicious as it had appeared so he used the slobbery end to scrawl on the paper in front of him.

Christina looked at the wet sludgy mess of paper, unconvinced but trying not to show it. "That's... um... really pretty. Well done!"

[inkykeiji]

really just wanna get matching tracksuits with mikey 🥺🥺🥺 cute, custom made sets in baby pink (for me) and royal blue (for him), embroidered with our initials over the heart in shimmering gold thread <33 and maybe, maaaybe mine has ‘property of m. sano’ scrawled across the bum <3 and maybe, maaaybe his has a cute lil 𝒸 stitched into the hip in sparkly pink, right below the ruffled waistband <3

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW) #23: City Fall - part 2

Read Date: January 22, 2023 Cover Date: June 2013 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Tom Waltz ◦ Bobby Curnow ● Art: Mateus Santolouco ◦ Dan Duncan ◦ Sophie Campbell ◦ Andy Kuhn ◦ Ben Bates ◦ Kevin Eastman ● Colorist: Ronda Pattison ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ◦ Tom B. Long ● Editor: Bobby Curnow ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● title page. two vans. one is April's as they rush Casey to the hospital. the other belongs to the Foot Clan, where they are taking Leonardo to Kitsune and her priests. ● Raphael, Splinter, April, and Angel drop off Case. Donatello and Michelangelo are searching for Leonardo with orders to meet back at the lair in an hour. Splinter and Raphael prepare to head back while Angel and April stay at the hospital ● the doctor says a lot of sword wounds have been coming in lately, and he wonders why that is before he goes off to operate on Casey

● Splinter and the three remaining turtles meet back at the lair ● Donatello presents Splinter with Leo's katana, which they found, confirming their fears that the Foot have him ● surprisingly, another clue has been written on the wall: East River Midnite Can Help U! Hob ● which means Hob knows where they live ● Kitsune has Leo on some sort of stone table ● when Kitsune puts on the fox mask, she transforms into a fox ● she tells Leo, "I pose no threat to you. I am simply here to guide you…" ● he has some sort of horrible dream of being frightened of Splinter, and of Shredder saving him ● brainwash Leo time! ● back at the hospital, Angel tells April of some of her backstory ● doctor takes April and Angel to Casey's room. He's still on a ventilator and everything. amazingly no vital organs were damaged, but he did suffer significant trauma, especially to his abdomen. doctor also says Casey won't play hockey anymore ● here comes Casey's dad. oops, and he overhears Angel say, "You know it ain't right, April. A good guy like Casey don't deserve to suffer like this… but that loser dad of his sure as hell does." ● the dad turns around and leaves before they notice him ● Splinter and his boys heading to meet with Hob ● Hob is there… as is Slash

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: April, Angel, Splinter and Raphael rush Casey to the hospital while Donatello and Michelangelo search the area around the docks for Leonardo. Paralleling the scene, Shredder, Karai and Alopex rush Leonardo back to one of the Foot's hideouts. April and Angel arrive at the hospital and get Casey inside; Splinter and Raph head home to meet Donnie and Mikey. Arriving at their hideout, Shredder dismissed Karai and Alopex and brings Leo to Kitsune. Casey is brought to an operating room while Leo is brought to a room Kitsune has prepared for a magic ritual.

At the Turtles' home, Donnie and Mikey present the only clue they could find to Splinter, one of Leo's katanas. However, they also show him the message they found scrawled on their wall when they arrived, an invitation from Hob to meet near the East River at midnight. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune uses powerful dark magic to warp Leonardo's memories, altering them so that Splinter appears to be his enemy and the Shredder his ally. He even hallucinates that Splinter has killed his brothers, leaving him devastated.

In the hospital waiting room, Angel tells April about some of her and Casey's history – how their dad's were friends who had them around the same time, letting them grow up together. Angel tells April how she lost her mother in a car accident and didn't cope well, taking to running with the street gange the Purple Dragons. It was Casey that kept her from getting too deep into the gang lifestyle and winding up in jail or dead. The doctor brings them into Casey's room and tells them his condition is stable but he will likely never play hockey again. April wonders if they should call Casey's dad, but Angel already told her dad to tell him, saying he'd probably be too drunk to care anyways. Casey's dad, who was about to enter the room, overhears, and leaves.

Splinter, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo arrive at the meeting point and find Hob with Slash. Hob tells them he knows where Leonardo is, and he can help them get him back. Hob says he can sense tension in the city escalating, and they need to choose sides. He offers to partner up with the Turtles, despite their past altercations. Splinter says if he really can lead them to Leonardo, he will consider the offer. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune's work is complete, and Leonardo accepts the Shredder as his new master.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/City_Fall,_part_2)

Fan Art: TMNT: Feudal Era by jeftoon01

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 46

[saga-project]

Fine. Cain supposed he would go with ora---Mikey. To make dumb stupid spray paintings. Even though he still didn't have a clue what he was going to paint, and he was almost doubly sure that Mikey was going to laugh in his face at the first sign that he was failing his tasks and make him do them all over again.

It would distract him from stupid Theatre and stupid Leon blabbing about shit they didn't understand. And stupid Green with his stupid scarf that he'd given to Cain for no reason. And how the hell he was supposed to live with the knowledge that something in his brain was fundamentally wrong. That he couldn't just be allowed to try and fix it, or will it away and hope that it stuck.

How hard could painting a picture possibly be?

"---Don? You gonna stare at the wall all day, or. You need me to help?"

Cain blinked rapidly, realizing--with a frustrated growl under his breath--that he'd spaced out again, and that he had been staring at the same length of brick wall for the past twenty minutes without making so much as a lick of progress. He twisted towards Mikey with a scowl, narrowing his good eye. "You. Need to stop talking."

"It's okay if you don't know what to paint. You can just do somethin' abstract! Just do it from the heart--"

"I do not need advice. I will paint something that will knock your socks off. Just you wait and see."

"Then paint, dude! It's okay, I won't judge it."

He said that now. But Cain was almost certain that if he didn't perform perfectly, Mikey would find some way to punish him, or destroy his work in front of him, or....

Fine. Fine. He could do this. Just paint what was in his heart. Or whatever. He wasn't going to do the stupid flowers, but maybe--

Cain grabbed the black paint. Then the red. Then some blue. Assorted other colors along the way. Mikey had gone over the basics of the technique, he just needed to remember--there he was. Long sprays for precise lines, filling in the shapes. Focus on what he was picturing in his mind, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. It was just like making tech, after all. Maybe with a few more steps and more technique involved, but still. He was well-versed at building tech. It was about the only thing a specimen like him was good for, these days.

Just like fighting. Just like building. Break it down into simple steps, get into a rhythm. Oh, yes, he was winning at spray painting. Mikey would not think he was a failure. He stepped back to survey his work, wiping the sweat from his eyes--

--and froze.

"Donnie--I mean. Cain? What's that mean."

It was him. He'd painted himself. As a shadowy, huddled figure, surrounded by all too familiar outlines. Theatre. Bee. Leon. Three. The red and orange and blue ones. Papa. All surrounding him as other shadowy figures. His form was jagged, cracking, angry red lines spilling out of him and connecting to the others. Like a puppet, being pulled in every conceivable direction. And all around those figures AND himself, he'd scrawled blocky letters, forming words in jagged red and black.

I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY--

Over and over and over again.

The can fell from his shaking fingers as Cain looked, as his chest felt increasingly tight, and when Mikey spoke again it sounded like his words were coming from underwater. "--on? What's that---"

He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't let Mikey know how much of a burden he was, too. He couldn't let him know about all the fear and insecurity that had come rushing out of him within the past few days.

So Cain turned, and he did the one thing he seemed to be good at anymore.

He ran.

[dangerous-advantage]

Number 16? 💜

[link to ask prompts]

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

oh man... calling me out, huh? /lh

off the top of my head, including everything from vague ideas to the fully fleshed out ones, to the ones i've actually written stuff for? nine (at least). which may not seem like a lot, but as i am incapable of writing anything short and/or sweet, that is way more than i am capable of handling at the moment, haha.

as for the au, i've talked about this before on here, but i've fleshed it out a little more to a place where i'm happier with it! so, here's my origami ghost au!

credit where credit is due, i got the og idea/sick-ass name from @noodlenoodlenoodlenoodle. (thanks for letting me adopt this au, and play around with it! i swear i'll write that seratello follow-up fic one of these days <3)

the basic premise is this: leo gets put in a coma, and nobody knows why or how. mikey, who was with him when it happened, was found in a similar state, but woke up the next morning with no memories of what happened. everybody keeps hoping that he'll wake up, writing notes and folding them into little origami shapes for him to read through when he recovers. but time progresses, and they begin to lose hope.

when strangely folded origami notes start appearing around the lair, often scrawled with incomprehensible writing, the mad dogz begin to wonder. raph, not wanting to inspire false hope, dismisses the occurrences, encouraging the others to do the same. however, raph has a few suspicions of his own. enlisting the help of cassandra in order to avoid the suspicion of his brothers, they begin following the trail of strange, mangled origami animals and their often nonsense notes. following a series of clues to the gutters and back alleys of new york and the hidden city, they begin to uncover the truth behind what is happening. old grudges start to come to light, and with each secret uncovered, they find themselves beginning to question the very nature of what's been happening, leading them to ask the larger question behind it all: why?

meanwhile, donnie doesn't buy it. things just aren't adding up, and he's frustrated that raph seems so willing to just let something like this go. leo and him have always been close, and he doesn't believe for a second that his brother is beyond hope. he confesses his feelings on the matter to april, who has been having similar thoughts. the two of them decide to start doing a little research of their own on the side, without the knowledge of the others. on a hunch, they head to the mystic library (which they are banned from) and are able to "convince" (blackmail) a newer employee-- the long-suffering usagi yuichi-- to aid them on their quest. thrown into a world of ancient rituals, cursed items, and other "mystic bullshit" (donnie's words), the b team soon finds there's much more to this than they had thought. not to mention, things get dicey when their meddling goes just a bit too far, and somebody gets paranoid. (thank god they have a rabbit bodyguard...)

finally, mikey. mikey, whose been taking this all the hardest, whose brothers have been disappearing more and more often. who can't seem to remember what happened that night, and blames himself more with each passing day. not to mention, due to the effects of the invasion, his hands are too shaky to fold origami "right" (his words.) mikey begins to withdraw, acting like he's fine, while internally, he begins to obsess over what happened that night. his family doesn't seem to notice, being so busy with things they won't tell him about. it seems like it should be easy to slip out, leaving the others unaware, but he didn't count on thing: casey jr, leo's shadow and unspoken "second-in-command." in the spirirt of looking out for him, casey demands he be let in on whatever mikey is planning. mikey isn't happy, but he relents, letting casey in on a secret: he does remember something from that patrol. something that's been keeping him up at night. something that he isn't quite sure he can trust. together, the two of them start looking for the truth behind exactly what happened that night, and more importantly: who is to blame. driven by his growing anger, with casey keeping an eye out for him, he dons the moniker of the 'origami ghost,' venturing into the darkest parts of the city in search of a killer. but to catch a killer, mikey might just have to become one.

(featuring: my raph & cass qp agenda, donnie's horrible realization that feelings are a thing that exists (ew!), and some good old fashioned villan!mikey <3)

[thetacticalspider]

what happened to the artists?

image descriptions in alts and under the cut

[image number one shows a drawing of ray toro done in bright marker over an old page in a school notebook covered in pencil writing. the drawing itself is a copy of a picture taken of ray toro from some time in 2024. he's standing up with his shoulders a bit hunched and he's looking down seriously at the guitar in his hands. his hair is pushed back behind his shoulders. overlaying half of his face on the left side of the paper is a Palestinian flag. this half of his face and clothes are drawn in colors to match that section of the flag: for example, part of his face is black and grey where the flag is black, and other bit is drawn in reds. the flag has a thick black boarder around it and, written in the top red section, are both my signature of "tactical spider" and the date it was drawn, which is october sixth, 2024. on the left side of the the flag, in small, scrawled writing, a sentence reads "this hurts, ray, you're my favourite." in big capital letters on the right side of ray's head, it says "what happened to the artists." in smaller text below, it says "what you gotta say," both being lines from "hind's hall" by macklemore. on one shoulder of ray's grey, long-sleeved shirt, read the words "what if you were in Gaza, what if those were your kids," a line that is also from "hind's hall." finally, on his forearm, it reads "your children will study your silence." ray has light brown skin and curly brown hair. his guitar is a pale wood color, or at least it's supposed to be.]

[image number two shows another marker drawing, this one of mikey way. his skin is pretty yellow, because I blended the marker wrong, and he's got black glasses, a black beanie over brown hair, and a black t-shirt with his hands behind his back. we can see amber eyes behind the glasses' grey lenses, and he's staring into the middle distance. green letters on his shirt read "possible hypocrite?" and he has one half of a heart friendship bracelet hanging around his neck. then, in the top left of the drawing, right next to my "tactical spider" signature, is a thickly boarded red triangle, inside of which it reads "someone will bleed, won't they?" along with a few black tear drops, which makes the shape almost look like a wedge of watermelon. next to this triangle, it says the date, which is once again the sixth of october, 2024. underneath, highlighted in red, it goes on to sayin parenthesis "especially when you do nothing, michael," as a continuation of the words in the red triangle. an arrow points to one of mikey's eyes along with text reading "and after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence," which is a line from MCR's "skylines and turnstiles." finnaly, in big capital letters on the bottom left of the page, reads "tell me where we go from here." once again, this is drawn on an old page of pencil notes in a school notebook.]

[image number three shows a marker drawing of frank iero. two big black x's cover pen gradings from when this was my sixth grade social studies notebook. taking up most of the right side of the page is frank on his knees, leaning back. grey marker covers his exposed arm in an emulation of tattoos, his head is tipped back to expose his bare neck, his skin is a light peach color, and his hair is dark brown and scraggly. he's clean-shaven with a small mustache, and is wearing his red t-shirt that says "homophobia is gay" on it." in a speech bubble next to his head says in spanish "del rio al mar, yo te quiero libre palestinam" which is a cross between the english phrase "from the river to the sea" and ana tijoux's line in "somos sur," "yo te quiero libre palestina." small letters and an arrow pointing to the speech bubble say "lo que quiero." in the upper left corner of the page, words read "silence is violence frankie," and next to that is the date, october fifth, 2024. a little ways below, more words read "te amo frank, pero necesitamos más de usted, porfa." then a ways below that, it reads "your children will study your silence." then in really big black letters covering the bottom half of the page, it reads "fuck you very much for your silence..." along the side of the first F is my signature, tactical spider. finally in parentheses below the "fuck you" frank's instagram handle is written, that being "frank iero must die," all one word and with no "a" in "frank."]

[image number four shows a bright marker drawing of gerard way's face in close-up, once again over an old school notebook page. it's a copy of a professional photo taken of them on the return tour, singing while wearing the cheer dress. his medium brown hair is flying all over the place, he has light skin, his eyes are closed, and he's holding the microphone right up to his mouth, showing the wedding ring on his finger. a rectangular yellow text box with a thick black boarder pointing to his mouth says "yo te quero libre palestina. black marker words going across their face say "...gerard...your silence is violence." next to the speech box it reads "oh gee, give me truth," and in big green and black letters at the bottom of the page, it reads "another cog in the murder machine?" that of course being a line from "teenagers" by MCR. the word "cog" is underlined, and has an arrow pointing to gerard. in small black capitol letters, the words "free palestine" are written between the two lines of green and black letters. finally, my signature "tactical spider" is written off to one side, alson with the date, october fifth, 2024. end id]

[bunnicupp]

Mikey's Christmas gift was truly priceless, in lieu of a usual gift this year he gave me a card with a simple scrawled message, "Draken is ticklish behind his knees.".

I'd been holding onto this information for 2 torturous weeks, waiting for the next get together with the crew.

We were sitting at dinner, my hand on his knee like usual. This time, though, while draken was talking about his new upgrade to his bike, I slid my fingers under his knee. He froze as my long nails lightly teased him through his pants.

He tried to finish his story, shooting me a surprised glare that turned into a look of dread as he saw the mischievous smirk on my lips. "New years party." I mouth, reminding him of how he tickled my sides and made me spill my drink on my dress a few days ago.

I tickled him, causing his knee to jolt, shaking the table, and nearly knocking over his cup. Everyone looked in surprise, and Draken cleared his throat to pretend it was on purpose, making some bogus toast about the new year.

I didn't tickle him again, content in the psychological warfare that comes with him knowing I can finally tickle him back.

Imagine tickling your f/o’s sides while they try to deny the fact that they’re ticklish through their laughter.

proship/comship/neutral DNI

[ranhaitanisgf]

Can I pls request a class president and delinquent w mikey, and the pocky game??? For the scenario Mikey got dared to play the pocky game w u. (The both of u are on good terms w each other) u accepted and covered his eyes to make it easier for him (his cute flustered face ;-;) and u kissed him while bitting the pocky.

— sano manjiro (mikey) // delinquent & class president // pocky game

[𖤐] anon...ur a genius for this. flustered mikey is the best one so that's what i did lolol. ty for requesting (2 years ago 😭) and i hope you all enjoy my lovelies! xoxo

wc: 1.1k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

your pen scrawled across the paper, completing the work that you had to finish before the end of the day. the budgets for clubs was not to be messed with; the club presidents were very passionate, and if you didn’t have a budget for them in time, they would probably go nuts, (you’re not sure what it entails, but it’s enough to get you going on the work). 

the sliding door to the empty classroom opened up, making you flick your eyes up briefly at who was entering. 

“yoo, are you in here (y/n)-chi?” you smiled a bit at the familiar voice, your heart speeding up a bit. 

“right here.” 

“i finally found you! you’re a hard one to find, y’know that?” mikey whined. he looked around the classroom, not seeing anybody else and grinned. “what’re you doing here by yourself?” he asked, sitting down in the chair in front of you and facing you. you didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was definitely up to something. 

“i’m not a very hard person to find, mikey, i’m sure you were just looking in the wrong places. and i’m working on the budget for this year’s club, since i need to be able to have it done today to get it reviewed by administration.” mikey blew a raspberry at you. 

“boringggg…you never do anything exciting, do you?” 

“hey! for your information, i do lots of fun things! just not during school or student council hours!” you huffed. mikey tilted his head at you, questioning your words a bit. he resembled a confused child for a moment, (it was pretty cute). “aside from that, why were you looking for me? is there something i can do for you?”

“well, i got dared to ask you to do something, but’s it’s fine if you don’t want to do it.” pausing your writing and looking at mikey, you noticed a bit of a flush in his cheeks as he mumbled the last part of his words. 

“oh? consider my interest piqued. what is it?” you set your pen down, giving him your full attention as a playful smile played across your lips. 

this should be interesting. 

“...p…game…” 

“hm? i didn’t quite catch that.” mikey whined and groaned a bit at your teasing voice, huffing as he avoided eye contact. 

“...the pocky game…” your eyebrows shot up at his words; you definitely had not been expecting that, (although it’s hard to expect anything that mikey says or does). 

“oh, uh, i see…” you said out of surprise. 

“it’s fine if you dont wanna, it was just like a dare so it’s stupid…”

“no, i’ll do it.” 

“…wait, really?!” mikey shot up in his seat, his hands slamming onto your desk as his eyes damn near sparkled with happiness, (seriously, how was he always so cute?). you giggled a bit at his reaction, taking your papers off your desk and setting them to the side. 

“yes, but hurry up before i change my mind!” 

“wh-uh, okay!” mikey dug through his pockets, looking for something, before he sat back down again. from his pocket, he pulled out a box of pocky, sitting down and setting it gingerly on your desk, looking nervously to the side. you raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile on your face. 

“are you embarrassed, mikey?” 

“w-what?! nah, of course not! who do you think i am!! i am-”

“pff, i’m joking. you’re just too cute to tease.” you laughed. mikey’s cheeks puffed up as he glared at you, though you knew the glare was fake since you could see his cheeks coloring up a bit more. he started mumbling things, too low for you to hear, as you opened up the box of pocky, taking one and slipping it between your fingers. mikey still wasn’t looking at you, making you sigh a bit. 

“you’re cute, but you need to look over here in order to do this, you know?” you couldn’t help the teasing lilt in your voice; he was just acting so different than he usually acted that you just had to tease him. mikey finally turned his face over to you, scooting a little bit closer and resting his arms on your desk. 

“you’re being really mean right now, i thought you were supposed to be nice…” 

“just because i’m student council president doesn’t mean that i can’t tease you.” before he could say anything else, you slipped the pocky stick between his lips, effectively silencing him. now that he couldn’t turn away from you, you were able to see the flush along his cheeks and ears a lot more clearly. a small laugh slipped from you at the sight. “since you’re sooooo embarrassed, i’ll make it a little easier for you.” you placed a hand over both of his eyes before putting the other end of the stick between your own lips. you could tell that he tried to protest, but the pocky stick effectively silenced him. 

for a moment, nothing happened. 

then, chomp! 

the distinct sound of you biting the stick. 

you took a couple more small bites before mikey finally bit the stick a couple times. your noses were close to touching at this point, and you could feel his breaths fanning across your face. the pocky stick was rather small at this point, making your heart skip a couple beats. 

oh, whatever. 

after a moment of pondering, you went for it. you bit the last end of the pocky stick, pressing your lips against mikey’s. his lips were a little chapped, but they were warm and they fit perfectly with yours. a couple seconds passed before you pulled away, chewing the rest of the pocky in your mouth as you took your hand off of his eyes. 

that expression makes it all worth it. 

there was a deep flush across his face now; it spread all over his cheeks and covered his ears as he gaped at you. 

before he could recover, you gathered up all your belongings, hefting your stack of papers in your arms. 

“well, i have to go drop these off now.” you leaned closer again, pressing a soft kiss against his warm cheek. “i do hope you’ll be attending all your classes tomorrow.” you whispered, smiling at him. you pulled back, admiring the shocked and flabbergasted look on his face as he tried to form words. 

“y-yeah…” he managed to get out. 

“great! see you tomorrow then!” before you left the classroom, you peeked back at him one more time. 

you had to resist giggling as you saw mikey brushing over his lips with his fingers, his eyes wide. 

oops!