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m-ilkiee · 4 months

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Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 1: Warning Signals

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: being friends with Emma Sano is nice, until you get on the wrong side of the Sano brothers.

content warning: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, misogyny, alcohol/drug use, brief mention of violence, religious and purity culture themes, classism, slutshaming, p*rn mention, sexual assault, noncon, public initimacy, fingering (fem recieving), dacryphilia, gaslighting, manipulation, mention of vomitting, victim blaming.

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

word count: 10.1k words

note: this chapter has been edited and the storyline shifted to the original plan for the series. consequent chapters 2-5 will follow suit and vastly vary from the og series i posted before.

masterlist||chapter2||taglist

KNOWING how big both the TENJIKU and TOMAN fraternities were on campus, it was a bit awkward being friends with the youngest sister of two of the most popular guys in this school.

Any where you two went, she would always be the center of attention. You didn't really mind being in her shadow because as long as you have her, you’ll be fine. People called you a lost puppy, riding on Emma’s cocktails just to get by in university.

They didn’t know how you both have self-care days where you would paint your nails, wear facial masks and watch “Mean Girls” or “Clueless” on her laptop because you weren’t allowed to watch it when you were young. Or how the both of you always have study dates with hot coffee and exchanging annotated notes so that you both remain at the top of your game. They don’t know about the secrets you both share and the trust you both have for each other.

You don’t have to explain anything to anyone.

Emma is a pretty satisfied girl. Her college tuition is paid for in full and her time here has always been smooth. As far as you knew, she grew up being loved by all three of her brothers and they doted on her to the point she thinks they spoiled her.

-You don’t think they spoiled her -okay maybe a little with the way she spends money, but everyone has a vice. Right?

You could tell she knew what familial love is with how sweet and kind she was to you when you opened up about your family troubles.

The only issue is that her two brothers, Mikey and Izana, have been at each other's necks for some years now. Mostly Izana inciting violence at Mikey and Mikey retailiating; it’s the number one concern in the Sano household the way those two fight and argue.

From what Emma told you, Izana’s provocative nature was the gasoline to Mikey’s volatile mental state, akin to fire. Even the littlest of things that no one would bat an eye for could incite a bloody brawl between them. And as they grew older, more people were involved in their petty rivalry, since neither Emma nor Shinichiro agreed to take their side.

Despite the looming hostility, Mikey decided to throw in the towel and agree for a truce. At first, Emma couldn’t believe it. Until two weeks had passed and they hadn’t fought.

"They haven't gotten along at a stretch like this, I tell ya!" Emma had said excitedly while selecting what she would wear that day. You let out a small smile as she tossed multiple clothes on her large bed. Being the youngest had its perks, like how her oldest brother, Shinichiro paid for her to have the biggest room in one of the dorms all to herself.

You heard that on the front, he had one of the biggest Motorcycle brands and behind all of that, his real business was handling the black dragons, one of the biggest gangs in Japan.

You wonder how Emma feels about her brothers' lifestyle, but judging from her huge wardrobe and expensive jewelry, you don't think it bothers her too much.

Not like you cared either. To you, she was just Emma. Nothing more or less.

The blonde haired girl swiftly turns to you with two options in her hand, a pink sequined dress and a white halter crop top and a pink mini skirt with ruffles at the bottom. "I need to look really good today, which one says 'I'm so happy my brothers are not at each other's necks for once?' " She asked animatedly.

You've never seen her this happy since you met her, unless Draken was involved and somehow it made you happier too. It must be nice to be so close to your family members all the time and be able to mend your relationship with them.

You've never had that. You don't think of your family much. You don't wish to either, ever since your father cursed you out for rejecting a marriage proposal from one of his friends to pursue higher education and your mother stayed quiet, complicit -all the while silently seething that all her training went down the drain. The first time you ever went against their old fashioned ideals after years of obedience was met with immediate punishment.

Ironic.

You don’t regret it, though. Because you wouldn’t have met Emma.

"The second one is a better choice." You said with a smile, gazing at her with adoration in your eyes. “The skirt ruffles makes your legs look good. Pair it with the white strap heels and you’re good.”

The blonde broke out into a wider grin, the clothes pooling at her sides as she rested a hand on her hips. “Look at you giving me fashion advice.” She teased lightheartedly. “I feel like a proud mother growing up!”

“I learned from the best.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence and you take that time to admire her. You’ve always thought Emma was gorgeous, from her bright smile, to the twinkling of her eyes when she’s mischievous, to her enthusiasm for life in general. It was a no-brainer that guys would gravitate towards Emma and try their luck into dating her. Eventually the threat of her brothers or the threat of her equally terrifying friends with benefits who just happened to be the vice president of Toman, Ken Ryugi, would be enough to back off.

You wished you were as likeable and as beautiful as she was. You were always too shy to do anything or talk to people, let alone guys that you liked.

“So have you picked your outfit for the party?”

You’re snapped out of the trance-like state to see Emma standing in front of you, her body so close, you could smell her vivienne westwood. “Me?” You asked her, your tone laced with confusion. “I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

“And why is that?”

You paused, trying to organize your thoughts on how to break this to her without ruining her mood tonight. “I don’t think…” you took a deep breath before saying. “Your brothers would want me there.”

There’s a shift in her look, so minor but you could pick out the way her smile faltered. You both knew that her brothers could be… weird around you. It was something Emma couldn’t understand for the life of her.

Izana was usually very displeased with your presence and makes it very well known he doesn't want you there with snide remarks and forgetting your own order. His friends, for the fear of him, wouldn't speak to you either. It took Emma angrily yelling at him for him to be civil towards you. But the second she turned her back, Izana would go back to his usual self, being rude and peppering it with little acts of violence like pushing your hand so that your drink spilled all over the floor and even pushed your laptop bag to the ground, destroying the device you saved money to buy for months.

Mikey was on the other end of the spectrum. He would ignore your very presence and talk to everyone else but you and the rest followed suit. You’ve tried to at least make small talk with him, anything but he would talk over you. You heard from other people that he’s the nice brother and he’s usually so easy going- you’ve seen it with your very eyes the way he interacts with Emma’s other friends, Hinata and Senju.

And it hurts you. You’ve had a crush on him for so long, longer than you even knew Emma, so you don’t understand why he’s acting so differently with you. Seeing him talk with other girls sweetly makes you green with envy, wishing that it was you. Craving for just a piece of his attention.

Maybe he just doesn't like shy girls.

Only some guy named Takemitchi would try and explain that they don't hate you. It was surprising, considering that you knew people like Hakkai - whom you attended the same confirmation class and high school with- and even he made no effort to at least speak with you whenever you came to the frat house or met on the road.

You stopped bothering to make either of the Sano brothers like you, so long as they let Emma keep hanging out with you. It was obvious that they hold some animosity for you when you’ve done nothing to them.

“Nonsense!”

Before you could say anything, Emma pulled you up by your arm and dragged you off the bed towards her closet. “That’s a load of bullshit. There’s no way I’m leaving my best friend to rot in her room when there’s a Sano party going on.”

“But-”

“Nope!” She cut you off stubbornly, before pulling out some clothes from her closet, trying to match them with your skin tone. Satisfied with the outfit she picked, she puts the clothes in your arms and practically shoves you into her bathroom.

“EMMA-”

“Don’t Emma me, (name). You’re going to take a shower and by the time you’re out, I should be back with a makeup kit that suits you.” You tried to speak again but she silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “We’re going to be the hottest girls at that party, whether they like it or not.”

“But these look very short-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, bye!”

You sighed when Emma shut the bathroom door in your face, locking it so that you would do what she said.

There was no winning with Emma when she made her mind up. Might as well follow through with it.

YOU had no idea how big this party would be.

You've come to the Toman frat house before with Emma to see Mikey and Draken once, and admired how large and spacious the three story building was. Now imagine that large of a space being cramped up with nearly the whole school's population.

Somewhat, you’re grateful that the outfit Emma lent you was as short as it was. The house was so hot, you could faint from how stuffy it was.

You hold on tightly onto Emma's hand, intertwined with each other as the both of you push through the big crowd, ignoring the sweaty, drunk students as you headed for the stairs. She, being used to parties like this, was able to navigate through the raging crowd with some form of ease.

After a few more squeezes, you both finally make it to the stairs.

As you both climbed up, you could see different people, all having fun in their own way. You're rarely invited to parties, so this was still more of a nouveau experience for you. A girl is asking for a light, a tiny blunt in between her teeth until another person lights it up for her. You see some guy shotgunning another girl, before melting into a hot kiss, tongue melding with each other. Someone else is drowning shot after shot and a couple is practically dry humping for everyone to see, a poor excuse to dance with the music.

The obscene sight surprisingly doesn’t disgust you, knowing your background, it just makes you curious. How would it feel to try one of those things? Smoking? Drinking? Making out with someone? Emma had told you about her own experiences; as long as you took it easy, it could be fun. Her first time with anything was with Draken and he was always gentle with her, plus her brothers were fine with it, even making sure whatever she took wasn’t laced with anything.

However, you were taught differently. That your body is a temple that you should keep clean for God and doing any of these things will sully you.

You didn’t believe that as much as you did when you were younger, but you didn’t want to test your luck either in case it ended up being true. Besides, you would look like a complete moron if you tried anything with them.

You tried as much as possible not to make it obvious that you're staring, but that failed when you caught the attention of a tall silhouette smoking. Sharp golden eyes stared you down and you instantly looked away, not wanting to get in trouble with some random guy.

You've heard rumors about Toman or Tenjiku guys absolutely beating anyone up for just staring at them wrong. You don't want to be victim number seventy-five this year.

Finally, you both reached your destination; a room on the second floor where Mikey had asked Emma to meet him. The ground floor was always the place where non-members stayed, trashed and partied. The first is accessible to all members of Toman (and now, Tenjiku) to hang out, have a private party and smoke. The second floor is only for executives and their girls or sisters.

You're a bit worried for yourself as Emma spoke to the person guarding the door. Mikey never said YOU could come along with Emma. You're no executive. You're no girlfriend of their executives and you are definitely not related to any of them. You had told Emma to leave you on the ground floor but she insisted that no one would be angry with your presence.

You've suspected that Emma has been trying to hook you up with someone in either of the fraternities. She was always insistent that you at least get to know them.

"(Name) come on."

Without waiting for your protest, Emma yanked you into the rather pristine room that housed the executives. Your eyes drank in the sight briefly, thanking God that it wasn't filthy or smelly as you had imagined it. The execs were all playing a game of poker, with an orange haired girl -Hinata Tachibana, his girlfriend, perched on Takemitchi's lap, laughing at his bad luck.

Emma's eyes quickly scanned around the room for a brief moment until she saw her two brothers sitting side by side, both engrossed in the game. Mikey’s blonde hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly. His baggy white shirt is unbuttoned half way and slips down his shoulder, revealing a black tank top and large jean trousers. Izana is different, white hair falling across his handsome face, leather jacket discarded on the back rest of the chair, leaving him in only a tight red shirt and tighter leather jeans, various chains and accessories hanging from his neck. Two earrings dangle from his ears- you can’t remember the name or significance.

‘They’re really good looking. Really-’

Without a warning, she lets go of your poor arm and jumps on top of Mikey and Izana, tackling them into a hug. Cards fly as she squeezes them hard, to which they discard their initial anger of losing their deck and hugging her back.

"Emma, next time give us a warning, will you?" Mikey pouted. You thought it looked cute, but immediately discarded that stupid thought. The guy hates your guts, don’t think he’s hot. "You ruined my game."

"As if you weren't losing dipshit." Izana teased, his face more relaxed than you’re used to seeing. "She did you a favor. You were down to 100 chips."

"You were down to 50. Who's the loser?"

"Still you."

You could see a smile tug at the corner of her lips lift up as she stands up. "Finally glad that two of you aren't strangling each other for once." She said triumphantly, hands on her hips. Her voice has a pep to it. "Last time both of you were in the same room, it didn't end well."

"Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it." Izana scoffed. Suddenly, his purple eyes left his sister's face and trailed onto you who just stood a few feet away, awkwardly. You watched in real time as his smile fell, his features darkening the moment he locked gazes with you.

Dear God.

"What is SHE doing here?"

His harsh tone made everyone in the room shift their attention towards you. Your blood ran hot with embarrassment, feeling Izana’s purple eyes scan you up and down in disgust while everyone else just looks at you. Mikey’s gaze burned holes into you as well, silently asking you what the fuck you were doing here.

It was obvious. They never wanted you here. This entire thing was a mistake from the beginning.

"I-I'm glad I could walk with you all the way here, Emma" you stuttered, lying through your teeth. You didn't like the way both brothers were staring at you, like they could walk over to you and wring your neck at any moment. "I'll go join the party downstairs now, so I guess I'll see you soon-"

Pulling away from her brothers abruptly, the blonde girl rushed over to you and grabbed your arm, halting your attempt at running away as she dragged you back in place. You cursed underneath your breath at Emma’s desperate attempt to try to get you to stay.

“Hold on, now (name). I’ll talk to them” Emma whispered reassuringly, before turning to her brothers and increasing her voice in full volume. "She's here with me, is there a problem?”

There was a tense silence in the room as everyone stared at you. Mikey's tone was ice cold as he directed his angry gaze at you, dark eyes scanning down your body. You shuddered when his gaze settled on your legs just briefly before snapping back at Emma’s face.

"Emma. When I sent you that text, I specifically said you should come ALONE."

You felt your heart twist in your chest at the emphasis of that word from none other than Mikey. He really hated you.

"Come on Mikey. This is ridiculous." Emma plead your case. You don't realize you're shaking until your friend squeezed your hand gently in an attempt to calm you down and you squeezed back, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. "Why would I leave her downstairs?"

"Because that’s where all the beggars like her stay."

Your eyes widened the second the words left his mouth, Emma following suit at his words. The shock was soon replaced by embarrassment as Izana looked at you with a devious smile on his face, continuing his verbal assault. "What? I was just making an astute observation. You did say she was poor, so am I really wrong?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Izana-”

“Wait-” Mikey cuts in again, holding a hand to silence her, his eyes fixated onto your outfit, the wheels in his brain turning as he scanned your clothes from head to toe. You suddenly felt naked in the simple white top and jean skirt you wore, as he actually looked at you properly for the first time.

Your shyness is quickly short lived as his facial expression morphed from one of neutrality to nothing but pure rage.

“Is that the jean skirt I bought for you, Emma?”

Your heart dropped at how loud he barked, completely silencing everybody in the room. All eyes fell on you now, putting you at the center stage of attention. Emma quickly pushed you behind her, trying to shield you from their staring the moment she realized what was about to happen.

“Mikey, wait, I was the one who insisted she should wear it, not her.” Emma started to explain, her tone apologetic. “She had nothing to wear and i gave her those since you complained she dressed like a nun-”

“So you decided to dress her up like a cheap hooker instead?” Izana scoffed nonchalantly, his eyes flickering over to your outfit. “You know your clothes looks so cheap and washed out on her. She looks like she stands on the streets and asks for sex in exchange for money.”

"Izana!”

Emma started to reprimand her brother when Mikey cut in again to join Izana in practically insulting you. “Come on Emma, look at your friend. One wrong move and she’ll flash her panties. Don’t you think she’s looking a bit too desperate?”

Your hand flies to the edge of your skirt, dragging it down to try and cover up your legs as the gazes of the men leering at your legs. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mikey, who is quick to point it out. “See? Even your friend knows she looks like a hooker. She’s trying to pull your skirt down because she knows she’s guilty...”

Each word seemed to stab you in the heart multiple times. You quickly averted your eyes to the ground as he continued to berate you about your looks, tearing down your confidence bit by bit with each word until you're reduced into nothing but nerves and silent tears. Everyone was staring at you now, scrutinizing gazes drinking in the sight of your exposed flesh, snickering quietly.

Unwanted attention.

"Next time, she shouldn't dress like this if she wants to tag along with you…"

“THAT IS ENOUGH."

Emma’s voice rang through the entire room, anger evident in her tone. The two brothers sat there in silence, stunned at the kind of tone Emma had just used on them right now, as if they’ve never heard or seen her this angry in their life before. You could feel her tremble violently, her grip on your hand tightening as fury radiated from her body.

You were sure she’s holding back things to say with how badly she is shaking. Like she doesn’t want to say anything that she might regret saying. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it immediately, as if biting her words back.

"We're leaving."

“EMMA-”

“Oh come ON-”

Emma threw an arm around you and guided you out of the room amidst her brothers yelling at her to come back. Your friend is gentle with you, hiding your teary face from prying eyes as she leads you through the stairs. The loud music was enough to mask your uncontrolled sobbing, but it didn’t stop people with prying eyes from turning their gazes towards you, wondering what the hell happened to you.

You had never felt this embarrassed in your life. As much as Emma tried to comfort you on your way to her room, their words kept on reverberating in your head. You knew how hard it was to get out of that mindset and now, every confidence you worked for, has crashed down like a pile of cards. Even the way they looked at you made you feel so sick to your stomach.

You've been drilled into as a young child that you're dressed the way you're addressed and because of that, you have always made sure you looked modest enough. You were used to your brothers calling innocent girls whores because of what they wore, that they were asking for it.

And now witnessing it first hand just made you feel so dirty. From the way they looked at you, to how they spoke about your body. It made you ill to the core.

You’ve never been so humiliated in your life.

The two of you managed to walk back to Emma's room, since hers was closer. Her phone never stopped buzzing all through your journey, even when you got back to her room. You could see the pain in her eyes as she ignored each call, only worsening your guilt. You wished you had stayed back in the dorms instead of ruining her night; she was supposed to be having fun, not walking you back to your room prematurely because you couldn’t take criticism.

"You should pic-"

"No (name)." Emma was quick to assert as she helped you lay down on her queen sized bed, the soft surface. "You don't need to feel pity for them, you're the one they hurt, not the other way around."

You wanted to protest when she fell on the bed beside you, yanking her covers over you both and encasing you in a hug. "You don't have to worry about them. I just want you to feel better." She whispered in your ears, rubbing your back gently. "You looked good tonight."

You could only nod in response at Emma's affirmation, wanting to so badly believe her. You want to believe what Emma thinks about you but you just can’t when you feel like abject filth. Your lips began to wobble, tears rolling down your cheeks once again as their words rang in your ears.

Months of unpacking that trauma, flushed down the drain by a single action.

Emma didn't say anything in response to your fresh tears, she only hugged you tight and rubbed circles on your back to soothe you until you cried yourself to sleep.

“YOU implied that she’s a fucking prostitute Mikey, what the hell did I misunderstand?”

You woke up with a start on hearing Emma’s harsh tone echo throughout the room.

You opened your eyes groggily, rolling the covers down a little bit to see what was going on. She was standing at the open door, changed into her pink nightgown, her hair cascading down her shoulder as she argued with someone in the hallways. You push the covers a little further to see who she was talking to, catching a glimpse of a blond haired male standing in the hallways, blocking the only source of light filtering into the room with his body.

“Don’t yell at me, I’m still your older brother.”

‘Mikey?’

You perk up at his voice, instantly awake hearing his irritated tone. What was Mikey even doing in the female dorms by this time of the night? You glance at Emma’s sanrio clock on her nightstand that reads 00:00am. By now, no male student is supposed to be here, but knowing how influential Mikey is, he might have bribed the security to let him in.

His quiet sigh interrupted your thoughts and you turned your attention back to them, wondering what was going on. He started talking again, taking a tone much softer than before. “You’ve changed Emma. You blow me off to spend time with a stranger-”

“She is not a strang-”

“She is to me. You have enough friends Emma, what do you need this one for? What’s so fucking special about her?” His voice grows harsh again as he goes off a tangent about you. “You’re gonna get tired of her Emma. She’s a new thing but sooner or later you’ll get sick of her.”

Your heart broke at Mikey’s words. Is that what he thinks of you? This was supposed to be the easy going guy on campus that helped girls cross the street and everyone liked?

What did you ever do to him?

“Stop it!” Emma hissed underneath her breath, trying to keep her voice down but drive her point across simultaneously. “Stop talking about (name) like she’s a pet or a fucking toy Mikey. I care for her and I won’t stand you talking shit about her.”

“Em for fuck sake, just get dressed and get your ass back to the party.” Your jaw nearly dropped at how he’s quick to switch topics, ignoring what she just said. “Draken’s waiting downstairs and Izana’s gonna be pissed if you don’t come back.”

“You’re gonna ignore everything I just said right now, huh?”

“Em-”

“You and Izana can go fuck yourselves.”

“You can’t be seriou-”

Emma didn’t let him finish when she slammed the door in his face, turning the key as fast as possible. Her body sagged on the door, a quiet ‘god’ escaping her lips. Her silhouette stayed in that position for two full minutes before she walked to the bed again.

In silence, she laid beside you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging the blankets over you both once again. You felt safe.

THE next few days after the party were eventful.

Emma had spent them with you, hanging out in the library to study and going to your work place after a hard day at school, just sitting and talking with you when there was no customer around. You ended up in your dorm room or hers afterwards, eating the snacks you both got from shops around the school.

It was nice. Emma was usually busy with other things, so having her with you all the time seems so perfect. You enjoy the quality time you spend with her, really.

But guilt wouldn’t let you do so.

She had isolated herself from her friend group affiliated with either of her brothers, ignoring their pleas to at least talk to either Mikey or Izana. Hina or Senju would try to walk up to her on her way to class and Emma would outright ignore them. In a span of days, you’ve seen countless plushies, perfumes, expensive jewelry thrown into the dustbin, either from Mikey or Izana at the back of her dorm- their apology ripped letters ripped to shreds.

You had taken the time to piece one from Izana together and felt your heart bleed at his begging for them to “please work it out. We may not be siblings by blood but you’ll always be my little sister” and Mikey’s “Em I’m sorry for everything. Please let’s talk, I’ll listen to you.”

Your brothers had never done anything like that before. Usually, they would tell you to suck it up or even laugh at you for being too ‘sensitive’.

Then and there, you decided to talk to either of the Sano brothers in hopes you would mend their relationship. A naïve part of you thinks that this is the right thing for you to do; Emma has done so much for you, it’s time to return the favor.

You hadn’t told Emma what you planned on doing, knowing very well that it would make the poor girl far more furious than she was already. She would tell you that you have nothing to apologize for and get angry with you for suggesting to make peace with them, claiming you did nothing wrong.

The last thing you want is to escalate the issue. You just wanted Emma’s happiness.

You gripped the strap of your tote bag firmly, your eyes fixated on Mikey’s Chevrolet that was outside your department, possibly waiting for Emma to come out so that he would talk to her. Gathering all your courage, you walked towards the car and gently knock on the passenger’s seat tinted window to get his attention.

It wound down immediately, revealing the blonde haired man staring back at you with an annoyed expression.

“Are you trying to break my window?”

His rude tone made you instantly regret even trying to talk to him. Unfortunately for you, the decision was made and you stuck to it. ‘The letters, remember the letters’ You whispered to yourself. “I’m sorry Mikey I didn’t mean-”

“Manjiro.”

You blink twice at his interruption, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Huh?”

“Only my friends call me Mikey and as far I’m concerned, you aren’t one of them.”

There it is. That same attitude of that night. It almost made you angry with the way he was talking to you. You had every right to walk away from him - he was the one consistently harassing you, not the other way around, so who does he think he is?

Instead, you took a deep breath, thinking about just being the bigger person and how you want to make peace with him, so that everything returned to normal. “Okay, I’m sorry about your window Manjiro.” You added politely. “Can we talk?”

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously and you expected him to roll up his window and just drive away after that.

“Get in.”

You were shocked, but that quickly wore off when he opened the door for you to enter. You settled in quickly, snapping the seatbelt on after closing the door behind you.

There’s tense silence between the two of you as the car moved towards a more secluded part of the campus. You anxiously looked at your lap while he drove, wondering how you were going to start the conversation with him without instantly setting him off. Your gaze eventually drifted up to his face; from his half-lidded dark eyes to his straight nose, down to his soft pink lips.

You could see the resemblance between him and Emma, from their facial structure to genuinely good skin -not to mention they were both attractive. Despite his height, you knew a large amount of girls that crushed on him religiously, you included. You heard he treated any girl he was with, from his ex-girlfriends to his situationships, down to his one night stands with utmost respect and care. And despite everything he’s said to you, unlike his brother, he never hurt you violently or physically.

You just wished he was just as polite with you as he was with other girls. Maybe you could bring it up in discussions.

The car stops, bringing you back to reality. You realized that he had parked behind an abandoned class far behind the rest of the school. According to the university’s history, this was the first ever lecture hall that was built for the school, and eventually they decided not to renovate it as a remembrance from their little beginnings.

Or they didn’t want to spend any money on it.

Mikey switched the engine off, completely silencing the environment between the two of you. It is then that the realization hits you. You’re all alone with one of the most dangerous guys in this school, in a place where no one could hear you even if you scream. The thought makes you nervous, hoping to high heavens that Manjiro doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Well?” He asked, breaking the ice between the two of you. Mikey leaned back on the driver’s seat, turning to look at you. “You wanted to talk? Start talking.”

‘Okay. I can do this’ You whispered gently, exhaling through your lips. You can do this. “Mike- I-i mean Manjiro, I know it’s awkward, after everything that happened at the party and now it’s all a mess.” You cringed at the way you’re jumbling your words, this was not how it was meant to go. “We still haven’t resolved things yet-”

“We?”

You’re taken aback by his shocked tone as if he didn’t remember what both he and Izana had said to you, but when he doesn’t elaborate further, you take matters into your own hands. “Yes. You both said some unsavory things to me that hurt me that day, and it made Emma mad.” You paced yourself, not wanting to start rambling again. “I also want to apologize for disrupting your party by taking those words to heart and if I have offended you in any way, please forgive me.”

There’s an unreadable expression on his face, as if he’s slowly processing all the words you had just said. You watched his reaction morph from surprise to blankness, nothing on his face, which scared you more than any other expression.

“Get out of my car.”

What?

You quickly turned to the man, trying to understand what you had done wrong. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go in your head. You expected that Manjiro would be civil enough to at least apologize for his actions too or talk, not this. “Wait, Manjiro, what did I say wrong-”

“You don’t even realize you’re the problem!” You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden increase in his pitch as he bares out his frustration with you. “Em can never fucking shut up about how I need to apologize to you whenever I try to talk to her! It’s always about you, you, you! It’s frustrating.” he snapped. “Ever since you came into Em’s life, she just can’t help herself bringing you up. It’s always shit like ‘Oh, (name) is such a nice girl, you should talk to her, she’s a good listener.’ ‘Sorry I can’t come to the outings, I have to study with (name), you know she can’t go alone anywhere’ ‘Oh, this reminds me of (name), she can’t even say the word sex without hiding her face, she’s so innocent.’ She’s so fucking enamoured with you and we’re sick of it.”

You knew the brothers were extremely family motivated, but you had no idea that you were getting in the way of them spending time together. “I didn’t know...” Your voice shakes, tone apologetic as your gaze falls onto your lap. “I…I didn’t know I was causing a rift between you guys, I’m so sorry. I just want to make up for everything and put this behind us.”

A tense silence followed, and you didn't look up from your lap to look at Manjiro, still intimidated at his sudden outburst. You could understand their aversion to you, their family is quite close and their bonds intertwined; so for a stranger to barge in and attempt to tear things apart, even unknowingly can be frightening for them.

Not like you would know what it is like for family to love you.

Eventually, you feel Manjiro turn his gaze towards you, dark eyes scanning your figure until settling on you. You held your breath as he finally cleared his throat, turning his attention to you fully for the first time, ever as he began to speak.

“You want us to make up.”

His tone was plain, as opposed to how angry he sounded a few moments ago. Somehow, you feel weird, slightly more alert than before as he pauses again, goosebumps littering your skin. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so scared as he’s staring at me?’ you questioned yourself, before shaking your head, clearing your thoughts. ‘This is Mikey I’m with. Sure, he’s intimidating, but he would never hurt a girl. He’s a good guy.’

You decided to push your odd feelings aside. You were here for peace, not to think ill of him, not especially when you have a soft spot for him in your heart. And you wanted it to happen by any means necessary. Maybe showing him you were not a threat to his place in Emma’s life would make him feel much better around you. “I know that you may not trust me, but maybe if you got to know me better, and I also got to know you and your friends, you’ll see I mean no harm.”

“Is that so? You want us to know each other better?”

It was slight, but you could hear it. The slight mocking tone in his voice and instantly you felt stupid. It was clear he wasn’t taking you or your request seriously as you hoped he would, opting to see right through you instead as he stared at you, his gaze lingering to your hands lying in your lap.

“I-i feel like you’re not taking me seriously-"

“If you wore a longer skirt, then I wouldn’t have gotten so distracted.”

You instantly felt self-conscious when you realized where his gaze truly was from that moment on, and started dragging down your skirt to cover the space between your thighs and socks. The action only seemed to annoy him. “This is my problem with you. If you knew it was short, why did you wear it then?”

“I thought it was cute-” You felt stupider, uttering those words, but before you could say anything else, Mikey cut you off. “I never said it wasn’t cute, (name). It’s a cute skirt. It looks good on you.”

Your heart jumps in excitement at his compliment, your entire body getting warm at his words. “Really?” You uttered shyly, letting your guard down as a small smile crawls up your pretty lips.

“Yeah, real cute. You’d fit as one of the actresses featured in the schoolgirl category on a porn site.”

Your smile dropped instantly as the words left his mouth. “I’m not a slut.” your voice trembled, but just like arguing with your father, it’s no use. He let out a loud scoff, his gaze flickering from your face to your lap, settling between your legs. “But you dress like one. So might as well just perform for me, hmm?”

Your body tenses as you feel a hot palm grab at your exposed thigh, crawling underneath your skirt. You quickly push his hand off your thighs, earning a somewhat shocked reaction from him, as if he’s not used to being rejected. “I’m not…” you start to explain to him, slowly reaching for the door in a bid to escape. “... I don’t do things like that-”

“Does it look like I fucking care?” The blonde man snapped back at you, his surprise giving way to annoyance and he started to grab at your thighs again, only to be brushed off by you, angering him further. “I know you’re not as “innocent” as you claim to be. Stop fucking pretending. I know you want this!”

“I said I don’t do stuff like that! Stop it!” You yelled back at him, frustrated that he can’t just take no for an answer. You try to pry the door open or undo the latch, only to discover that it was stuck and that there was no way out.

‘No, no, no, no…’

Your heart starts hammering loudly in your chest, dread filling your veins when you realized how alone and utterly fucked you are.

You’re beginning to realize that Manjiro driving the both of you to a secluded place in the middle of nowhere was most likely intentional. He must have planned this so that no one would hear you both.

“Manjiro open the door or I’ll- I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what?” He spat back, dangling the keys before your very eyes before putting it somewhere you couldn’t see. “You wanna open the door so bad? Get the key from me then.”

You’re quick to react, lunging forward in an attempt to snatch the key for him. He easily resisted you grabbing at his body while laughing at your repeated screams to stop. It was like the more you begged and pleaded for him to let you go, the more he liked whatever game he was playing.

“THIS ISN’T FUNN- MANJIRO!”

Your screaming did nothing to deter him from practically jumping on you and pinning your arms against your chest with one firm hand, a leg separating your thighs. You twisted and turned, trying to fight your way out of his tight grip but to no avail. He was heavy and stronger than you had imagined, holding onto you like you weighed nothing at all.

His other hand reached underneath your skirt, skimming through your panties, making you squirm in your position at the feeling. Panic rises against your chest as he pushes the crotch part aside, revealing your pussy. “Wait! Wait, please Manjiro, I’m a virgin-” you try to reason with him as he traces through a streak of your hairy vulva, curling a strand in one finger before moving to your clit.

“You don’t shave?” His tone is so casual, like he isn’t doing something very abhorrent and wrong right now. His question is left hanging in the air as his finger starts to slowly circle around your clit. "Not like I care, it's better this way, anyways."

You’ve never been touched before. You’ve never touched yourself there either. You grew up in a household that taught you that anyone who isn’t your husband touching you is wrong. Your body is a temple to be kept for your husband.

So when Mikey’s slow and sensual movement against your clit begins, your body nearly seizes up with sensitivity. A loud gasp escapes your lips, followed by heavy breathing, your body shuddering with something unfamiliar and electric, sending signals that you didn’t know how to respond.

He strokes you faster, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles that has your eyes glazing over and your hips moving to feel more of his touches, wetting his car seat and your skirt with arousal. Mikey watched with interest the way you closed your eyes tight, your head lolled towards the side as your chest rises and falls, quiet ‘oh’ leaving your lips. He started to take it a step further, leaning over to your neck and trails kisses from your pulse point, to your jawline. He moved up to your ear and his long tongue darted towards the shell, licking it.

“Manjiro-” You gasped at the foreign wetness, with each flick of his tongue, sending pleasurable shivers down your body to your very core. Encouraged by your somewhat positive response, he continues licking your earlobe, his teeth occasionally grazing the shell as his fingers progressively leaves your clit, gathering your slick between his two fingers and tracing the outline of your hole.

“Shit” he groaned, feeling how wet you were. “You’re so wet right now, I could just slide in your pussy with ease.”

You wanted to protest when you felt two thick fingers inch into your unused hole. You wanted to push him off you and run out of the car until you were far away from him. Every part of your mind, your heart, everything in you wants Mikey OFF you as he forces your hole to accept his fingers.

And yet, you couldn’t even scream, you couldn’t claw at his face to scratch his eyes out for doing this to you. No. Instead, you’re arching your back and breathing his name into his ears over and over again, your hands clenched tightly in his grip as his fingers stretched your pussy out. All you do is tear up and let this sick pervert lick the salt rolling down your cheeks off, before going back to kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty when you cry f’me. Come on, keep making those noises.”

He curled up his fingers, experimentally looking for that spot as the burn graduated to a pleasurable stretch, repeated moans leaving your lips. He fingered you, progressively increasing his speed and pleasure overriding your senses as he circled his thumb over your poor nub, simultaneously with him curling up your g-spot.

Your body responded to his touches, lips kissing up and down your neck, licking your pulse point before sinking his teeth and mouth on it, making you gasp loudly.

Everything was too much. Your pussy tightened around his fingers, thighs trembling as he brought you closer to the edge. His lips left your neck and kissed up to your jaw, then the corner of your lips, pumping into you faster until you started to spasm.

“M-manjiro I-i feel, I feel- hngh-”

You arched your back uncomfortably with a strangled cry, soaking his fingers as your vision went blinding white. Your body trembled as he fucks and kisses you through your orgasm, shaking in his grasp until you fall limp on the chair, well spent.

You’re catching your breath as his fingers slid out of your pussy, a string of your cum connecting them. Manjiro looked at his soaked fingers with interest, before popping them in his mouth and humming to himself in approval. The sight feels so wrong to look at and you can’t find the strength to look away as he licked his fingers clean of your musky taste.

You don’t say anything when he let go of your wrists and adjusted your panties so that it covered your pussy. The blonde haired man climbed back to his seat, starting up the engine of his car again.

He doesn’t say anything when you start sobbing.

“I GOT you food.”

You didn’t respond to Manjiro, hanging your face as tears rolled down your face. It’s the position you had assumed since he climbed off your body, something he couldn’t get you out. He thought that maybe if he got you some food, maybe you’ll ease up and eat.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Kissing his teeth, he entered back into the driver's seat before closing the door behind him, tossing the food at the back seat. You could tell from the way he was muttering underneath his breath that he was growing more annoyed with you. “Honestly, I don’t know why the hell you’re crying. You’re still a virgin. I didn’t force myself on you.”

You didn’t know what else to expect from him. That he would even offer you a shred of apology for what he did? The way his words are so callous, lacking any form of tact in the way he’s brushing off what he just did tore you apart.

Emma had painted this man as someone who would hang the moon and stars for her. Someone she knew she could call if anything was going to happen to her, who would fight through hell and back for her safety. She had told you of how he beat up anyone that touched her wrongly and how he would try to make her forget anything unpleasant. To Emma, Mikey was her knight in shining armor, her hero.

This was a man you had loved with all your heart. Manjiro was your first ever crush, and the more good you heard about him, not just from Emma, but from other girls too, the deeper you fell for him. You had admired him from afar, your heart set onto him as you hoped to be at least close to him. Despite everything, he was the sun in which everyone revolved around, the heart throb of your dreams.

But when you turn to look at him through your teary gaze, watching him rev up his car engine with a nonchalant expression on his face, all you see is a vile soul.

You felt sick.

“I’m going to tell Emma.”

Your voice was quiet, hoarse from all the sobbing but the anger was evident. There was no way you were going to let him get away scott free. You knew that the police would be as good as useless because you’ll have no evidence by the time you manage to file a complaint. The school authorities won’t help you either as Shinichiro Sano was one of their biggest benefactors and everyone in the faculty loved Manjiro despite his tendency to be disrespectful.

But if you told Emma, you know she’ll believe you. Even if the entire world was against you and for him, you would still be able to get her to take your side and stand with you.

You’re sure name dropping his little sister would make him scared at the very least. Mikey loved her to death, she had this perfect image of her sweet older brother that he has to uphold at the very least.

Without skipping a beat, he dropped his own phone straight onto your lap before continuing to focus on the road. Eyes wide, you turned your head to Mikey to see any form of reaction, even him flinching slightly.

Nothing.

Your mouth hung open at how he just blankly stared at the road ahead of him, his grip on the steering wheel normal as he drove you back to campus. As if he’s innocent, like he didn’t force his fingers into your panties and violate you.

His nonchalance irritates you; it’s as if he doesn’t care what you say or do to him.

“What?” you questioned him, wondering where the hell he dropped his humanity? Any other person would have reacted; begging you, threatening you or even giving a flimsy apology. “-why did you drop this on my lap?”

“You wanna call her? Go ahead.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not like you told me no when I was fingering you.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Then how does it work?” He cuts you short, taking a right turn to park outside of your faculty building. He puts the car in park before turning to face you. “You walk up to my car to ask me if we could talk, wearing that kind of skirt that gave me access to you. When I told you to get out, you didn‘t leave. You never told me to stop and you didn’t struggle. You know what you did instead?”

“Sto-”

“Ah ah- Manjiro” he mocked you in a high pitched voice, making you cover your ears in humiliation, not wanting to hear anything from him. You wanted to throw up, ruin his car. You want the ground to swallow you whole, anything that would take him far away from you. “Ah, mmh Manjiro, mmh mhhh ah ah- you moan like a pornstar by the way. You seem like you enjoyed being treated like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you felt was bile rise up to your throat. A part of you nagged that he had a point; you never said anything that sounded like ‘stop’ or ‘no’ and how you positively responded to his touches. ‘You even orgasmed.’ A gnarly disgusting voice bubbles up in your head, in defense of Mikey. ‘It was obvious you enjoyed it. Every second of it.’

You tried to deny it. Try to block out that voice as you attempt to remember everything you were told about assault. You’re fighting a war in your head, against the intrusive voices as you picked up the phone to tell Emma. ‘She’ll believe me. She’ll believe me-’

“Face it. You’re just overreacting because you liked what we did.”

Those words were the final nail to the coffin. The phone lies in your limp hand, finger just above Emma’s line to call her. Everything that led up to this point involved your choices. To stay in his car. Not fighting harder. Never screaming no.

You let him dirty your temple.

Mikey spared you one more look, dark eyes scanning every inch of your crumpled form. He slides the device out of your hand, placing it back in the middle of his car before grasping your hand in his.

“Alright, stop crying.” he soothed in faux sympathy, thumb tracing over the back of your palm. “I’ll take you shopping and buy you new clothes, hmm? And I’ll buy you anything else you want. Okay?”

You should known better to believe him. After everything he has done to you, from consistently insulting you, to assaulting you and then making you feel guilty for giving him the opportunity to do so.

And yet, you’re nodding along, agreeing with him and letting his warmth engulf you. “Okay.” You said in a small voice, your free hand grasping the hem of your skirt tightly.

“Look at me.”

You felt another hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look at his face, dark eyes peering at your face. “I don’t like that look on your face.” You wince as his fingers tightened around your jaw, your heart hammering against your chest when he commanded you once again. “Smile.”

You don’t know what else to do. With Mikey, it’s like going to a war knowing fully well you would lose.

And so you do as you’re told. Your lips lifted at the corners forcefully and you gave your best smile. He returned it with a smile of his own, genuine to the point his eyes dilated.

“Good girl. You look so much better.”

Your mouth went dry at his statement when he withdrew from your body and unlocked the door for you. Deciding not to ponder on it, you reach for the handle to leave. You had a class in an hour’s time and you were supposed to meet up with Emma beforehand to return her laptop that you borrowed for her project.

“Wait.”

You paused in your tracks, your hand hovering above the door handle. What else does he want from you?

“Your makeup is ruined. Fix it. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea that I hurt you when we were just playing with each other.”

Bile rose into your mouth once again at his words, but you hold yourself from doing anything that would set him off. You only nodded in response before opening the door and exiting the car. Tears threatened to escape your eyes as you hurried off to class, your throat burning with anger as you gripped both your tote bag and the food he had gotten for you, hard. Your body shook with each step feeling the intensity of his dark eyes burning into you.

You never touched the food, throwing it in the trash bin due to your appetite eluding you, replaced with a sinking feeling of pain and humiliation into your stomach. You don’t make it to the rest of your classes either, opting to lock yourself in a toilet, a loud cry ripping from your throat into your palms as your heart breaks into tiny pieces.

How could this have happened?

Bonus Scene:

MIKEY never tore his gaze from you as you disappeared into the building. Dark eyes watched as your ass bounced in that jean skirt you had worn today, nearly reviving the boner he had prior. He had to admit, notwithstanding his absolute disgust for you, you were a sight for sore eyes - pretty, naive, inexperienced and tight. So goddamn tight.

He’s never been with an inexperienced girl before. Not even when he lost his virginity in high school. It didn’t hurt that you also had the sexiest thighs he’s ever seen either, soft and doughy underneath his touch.

You weren’t as stupid as he thought -far from it. Mikey knew your strategy; picking your battles carefully. You’re rightfully afraid of both him and Izana. You were even more afraid of losing face with Emma, the only friend you managed to make here, which is why you came to him because you felt guilty for making her mad at them.

If played right, they could have you underneath their thumb like they do with the rest of Emma’s other friends. All this was to keep an eye on their little sister in the long run, to restore the natural order and balance that was their system. Family came first, then the gang, then their friends and finally, if they cared enough, their lovers. It’s a cycle that Mikey is used to, being the center of attention in Emma’s life and sharing that space with Izana. Even Draken knew that there are times he shouldn’t intrude when the two brothers are with her.

But you had no regard for the order of things. You just tried to insert yourself into his and Izana’s circles, as if you were somebody of any importance and not just another, a little gnat.

To Mikey, you deserved to be crushed like the annoying gnat you are. Seeing you cry and tremble underneath his touch, hearing you moan and beg him like a slut made him feel good.

Mikey looked at the building again before looking at his watch. He had to attend his criminology lecture by 3pm since he had a presentation today and it was already 1:30pm, having taken out time to talk to you. The frat member he gave his presentation to edit must be waiting for him at the coffee shop.

“I might not be able to meet up with ‘Zana.” He muttered, picking up his phone to dial him up instead. Finally, after the fifth ring, his line went through, his rough voice echoing through the phone.

“Mikey? What is it?”

Mikey could hear a bit of shuffling from the other end of the phone, and a quiet “Izana” spilling from a rather feminine voice, only for Izana to bark at the girl to shut up, effectively silencing her.

“Did I catch you at the wrong time?”

“No.” He grumbled. “Do you have any updates on Emma?”

“In a way, yes. I do.”

“In a way?”

“I have a feeling you’re not going to like my plan, regardless.”

Izana sighed from the other side of the line, probably sick and tired of the constant mind games Emma was playing with them and to be fair, even he was sick of it as well. Their little sister was easy to annoy but easier to please; so for her not to be as forgiving this time was frustrating. Mikey had played every game in the book he knew to please Emma and even Izana had put in far more effort than he cared to, but nothing worked.

Unless…

“It involves her, doesn’t it?”

Mikey could hear the irritation in his brother's voice, but then again, if they wanted peace to reign and for Shinichiro not to get directly involved in this issue in your favour, they were going to have to play it the smarter way.

“Not like we have a choice. Emma’s attached to that girl by the hip. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

Also, it doesn't hurt to have a little fun on the side.

author's notes: reblogs, comments and asks are highly appreciated. my taglist for all my fics are wide open, so do ensure to sign up. please be very patient with me as for updates, school has started and i may not be able to be consistent, but i will try my very best to finish this story this year.

I do not consent to my works being promoted, published or translated on any site or social media without my permission.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra

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browniesarethebest · 9 days

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Thinking about a TMNT crossover with 2003, 2012, Rottmnt, and Mutant Mayhem where one member from each team end up with each other.

Like, 2003 Leo (the ultimate big brother) ends up with Mutant Mayhem Raph, 2012 Donnie, and Rise Mikey. Poor man has all the kids (plus Donnie but 2012 Donnie is anxious) and they all have a gap tooth that just makes their puppy dog eyes more powerful. Plus, Mikey and Raph would definitely get along too well.

Mutant Mayhem Leo (aka the anxious Leo) ends up with the absolute most chaotic squad of 2012 Raph, Rise Donnie, and 2003 Mikey. They all act older than him, but if he takes his eyes off of them for one second, there’s suddenly a building exploding in the distance. They live to rag on this kid any chance they get. This poor boy cannot handle it.

2012 Leo would end up with Rise Raph, 2003 Donnie, and Mutant Mayhem Mikey. They’re chilling.

Rise Leo ends up with 2003 Raph (who is absolutely baffled by a chill Leo who looks to Raph to lead), Mutant Mayhem Donnie, and 2012 Mikey. Poor Raph has to wrangle the kids in with no help from Leo like he usually would have because these three egg each other on like nothing else.

#tmnt crossover #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #mutant mayhem #tottmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #michelangelo #donatello #leonardo #raphael

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thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos · 2 months

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Random Turtle HCs

Based on the Bayverse turts, guys are 25+ SFW

-Donnie listens to 70s/80s funk jams in the lab. Anything with a groovy beat helps keep him focused on his tasks, but sometimes he subconsciously starts dancing when his favorite songs come on the speakers. Mikey caught him once, and he's never heard the end of it.

-When they were tweens Mikey got Raph into animes like Dragonball Z and Bleach. It was something they both really got excited about when the re-runs would come on tv. As they get older, both guys still watch it together for a lil brother bonding time. They're currently binging Jujustu Kaisen and One Punch Man. Donnie will sometimes watch an episode or two with them, but he never really got into it. Leo makes fun of Mikey and Raph for liking such bro-y shows, but secretly watches shojo/shonen animes like Fruits Basket or Oran Host Club. He's re-watching Inuyasha right now (for the third time). He would die of embarrassment if his brothers found out (Donnie knows).

-After seriously pulling a muscle a few years ago, Leo got really into massage therapy. He did a bunch of research on physical therapy and different massage techniques, and figured out how to marry the two ideas so he could help out when his brothers inevitably hurt themselves. Cough *Mikey* Cough.

-Speaking of which, Mikey is literally always hurting himself. He's not clumsy, he's just a wild dude who tends to overestimate the capabilities of his board. He's smacked into the side of a building more times than his brothers can count.

-Raph has a tendency to yap in the weight room. He's serious about working out, but if one of his brothers comes in to work in with him, he'll get reeeaal chatty. It's just the space he feels most comfortable and open, where his walls come down. Mikey doesn't mind, but it bugs the crap out of Leo.

-Donnie has to be dragged to the weight room to lift weights. Leo insists on it, and even gave him a perfectly tailored workout plan, but Donnie will make up every excuse to not go. He's never been able to build muscle like his brothers, and they know that, but Leo still wants him to continue strength training. Once as a teen, he was tossed over Raph's shoulder and brought in. Raph got away mostly unscathed.

-Leo writes Star trek and Battlestar Galactica fanfic. No, I will not elaborate.

-Mikey has been teaching Splinter new slang words, mostly to irritate Leo. The other night at dinner he used "no cap" in a sentence, and Leo got up and left the table. Mikey was cackling.

-Donnie swears. A lot. Raph and Mikey do too, but Don is real bad. Leo tries not to, out of respect and in the name of good manners, but if he gets heated in a videogame against Mikey, watch out.

-Mikey struggles with depression, but uses his sense of humor to cope. His jokes occasionally border on self-depreciating, which is a heads up to his brothers that he's not doing great. They take camping trips or plan fun days to help him out of the funk.

-Leo is the biggest flirt in the world. He doesn't realize he's doing it sometimes, until his victims are more blush than person and a puddle on the floor.

-Donnie is incredibly sassy. Like 1000%. He loved sitcom shows like The Golden Girls growing up, and learned how to deliver absolutely fatal comebacks with ease. He doesn't strike to kill unless he's annoyed, usually.

-Raph loves to sing. Like actually loves it. He won't sing for his brothers, but if you follow him on nights when he sneaks off, he goes to abandoned warehouses for the acoustics. Raph has a beautiful voice, with a little rasp to it, and he likes the way it echoes off the rafters. He usually sings along with 90s/2000s r&b, but sometimes will pull out some classic rock ballads. He's been singing Because of You by Ne-yo the past few nights.

-When Mikey discovers a new artist that he likes, the whole lair knows. He plays the music on full blast, going through the full discography. Donnie usually has to threaten to disconnect the wifi before he'll turn it down. His newest fixation was the Silk Sonic album.

-All the brothers' music tastes are influenced by each other. Raph listens to Rap, Leo likes R&B, Mikey's into Hip Hop, and Donnie's music is soup (there's a bit of literally everything). They all share music with each other, adding to the queue when they're in the garbage truck. The only consensus is that country sucks.

tags: @thelaundrybitch, @sophiacloud28

let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

#tmnt aged up #tmnt #tmnt headcanons #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donatello #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse tmnt #bayverse mikey #my writing

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em1e · 1 year

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

you enjoy your view from the sidelines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“quiet!”

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

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

until it isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then she dies, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

except he’s known since you moved back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“four.”

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

“because, ken-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you try again.

nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“great, i’ll see you in five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

don’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we made sacrifices for you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your mouth dries at the sight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“after?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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nolita-fairytale · 8 months

Text

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder.

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news.

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear.

A visitor?

“Wh-?”

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go.

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef.

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval.

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it.

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable.

Must be a prank or some shit….

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it?

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you.

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly.

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that:

“You’re not Carmen.”

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.”

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time.

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time.

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out.

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael.

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly.

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all.

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him.

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside.

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night.

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction.

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart.

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.”

Carmy tries again.

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.”

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next.

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away.

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?”

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over.

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?”

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down.

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you.

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further.

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view.

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that:

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?”

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy.

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.”

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay.

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh.

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look.

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology.

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him.

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.”

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued.

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction.

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it.

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval.

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him.

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies.

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth.

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.”

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots.

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots.

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass.

Carmy hesitates.

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with.

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit.

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition.

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued.

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!”

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look.

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement.

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!”

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with:

“... just like the one John Lennon had!”

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again.

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll.

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.”

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction.

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open.

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation.

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head.

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation.

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot.

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that."

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?"

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.”

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother.

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that.

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear."

There it is again.

That feeling.

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him.

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out."

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims:

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!"

"Carm-."

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair.

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him.

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?”

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you.

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother.

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together.

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on.

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm.

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar.

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is.

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet.

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle.

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you.

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice.

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too.

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands.

Carmy nods.

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.”

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself.

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard.

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

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