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sunkendreams · 6 months

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WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

( michael schmidt x fem!reader. )

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | michael schmidt x [fem!]reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.8K.

༄ ⠀𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 | one-shot, not requested. potentially multiple parts.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of past trauma, depression, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, mutual pining, explicit sexual content/smut, virgin!mike, loss of virginity, mike is definitely more submissive here, vaginal sex, riding, making out, dry humping, hair pulling, light dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), cum play, mike moans a lot I don’t make the rules !!

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | you guys should’ve seen this coming from a mile away … anyway !! I hope you guys enjoy, I loved the movie & I love Mike even more! If this fic gets good reception, I would like to make a second part or more Mike fics! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much for your love & support, you guys are just fantastic! ❤️

❝ “What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” ❞

Sparky’s Diner stands proud alongside the highway, a now-dilapidated fixture of a small town. Your parents used to take you here as a child, and at one point, it was your grandmother’s favorite place to eat. Now, it almost seemed forlorn, with the occasional gaggle of patrons or stragglers, but nothing more. You were seated in one of the creaking booths, slumped forward.

Cars whistle past a smudged window pane, slivers of daylight trickling through as they catch against the ceramic surface of your coffee mug. Your leg bounces — it mirrors that of the man sitting across from you. Silence fills the void between the both of you, a tenuous moment that seems to last an eternity until you hear a brief clearing of a throat.

“How’ve you been?”

You hadn’t seen much of Michael Schmidt since the incident at the mall — it was almost as if he’d become the resident recluse, and part of you couldn’t fault him for that. You were working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, now doomed as a paper-pusher at the career center. You’d run into Mike that way days prior.

It was a loaded question — you were unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wanted to inquire about his own wellbeing. Exhaustion glistened on his features as if they were a permanent fixture, from the bags underneath his eyes to the far-off look in his bloodshot gaze.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stare momentarily trailing between you and the lukewarm mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Mike recalled the days of working at the mall with you — it almost seemed a little easier back then, when he wasn’t completely weighed-down by nightmares and job instability.

Mike still held this nagging sense of guilt for letting your friendship crumble after the mall. You’d tried to reach out on numerous occasions, even after his arrest for assault and battery — no one else had done the same. It was scorched earth wherever he stood, and there wasn’t a single soul willing to get close.

“I’m doing well enough,” Your answer finally emerged after a near-endless bout of silence. The warmth had drained from your mug, but it gave you something to hold onto. “How’s Abby?” Mike’s younger sister was his entire world — you often commended him for his undying commitment to her.

Gone were the days of you sneaking her free cinnamon-sugar pretzels and delivering the leftovers to Mike once your shifts were through. You missed it — it almost felt like some distant dream, when in reality, it was only a year and a handful of months ago.

Any mention of Abby often struck a chord within Mike, as if an amalgamation of memories had come back to haunt him. His countenance was a reflection of that — still anchored down by the ghosts of the past. His dreams were becoming more vivid — worse, even. A sinking feeling consumed him then, jaw tightening as he fought against the onslaught of emotion.

A grimace flickered across his visage, enough for you to become concerned. Your heart began to beat a little faster — had something happened to her? “Mike?” You prompted, voice dropping an octave, softening up as you tilted forward. The last thing you wanted was to bring up painful memories.

You knew about his brother, Garrett.

“She’s fine,” Mike exhaled, pocketed hands perched atop his lap. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, gaze apologetic as he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. My Aunt, ah … She’s trying to get sole custody of Abby. It’s been an uphill battle.” He confessed, tone downtrodden.

“Mike,” You murmured, brows knitting together as you abandoned your mug, hands twisting themselves together. The pain etched into his face was unmistakable — and he was holding himself together through it all. “That’s awful. Have you talked to the courts?”

A humorless huff of laughter escaped him, followed by a more indifferent expression. “No,” He leaned back within his seat, hands withdrawing themselves from his pockets, splayed out across his lap, instead. “I’m definitely not fit to be raising a kid, I know that much.” Mike sighed, eyes fluttering in the opposite direction.

Protest formed upon the tip of your tongue, prompting you into action. “That’s not true. She’s been glued to your hip, even when we worked at the mall. I think if a Judge saw how much the two of you mean to one another, they wouldn’t take her away.” You murmured.

This was the you that he’d sorely missed — one full of tenderness and a gentle optimism. Mike wanted to believe you, but given the overwhelming circumstances and his Aunt’s persistence, it felt like a losing situation. At least, for now, he had time to work this new job and gain some rapport in the process.

“I hope so,” Mike folded his hands together, resting them atop the stained, plastic tabletop. He wanted to change the subject — for now, anyway. “Thanks for still sticking with me, even after all this time.” He murmured, a pang of guilt gnawing away at his insides. You were a good person — the best that he knew.

He felt like he’d squandered away your friendship to slip into this veil of reclusiveness, instead of still holding onto you, that little ray of sunshine. Mike wanted to make amends with you, and he wanted to start down that path before he’d inevitably ruin it again.

An empathetic smile crept onto your features, followed by a soft exhale. “I wish that we hung out a little more,” You mused, tucking a fist underneath your chin. “But I understand that you’re busy. Did that job work out with Mr. Raglan?” You inquired, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Mike’s breath hitched within his throat, a very subtle noise — he missed you terribly. Jeremiah used to tease and torment him about the colossal crush he had on you, but those times were buried within the past. His sentiments hadn’t changed, but he didn’t think he brought anything to the table, admittedly.

The job.

A security gig of an obliterated restaurant franchise where the animatronics were operated by the spirits of dead children — that job? Even after the revelation delivered to him by his own sister days prior, he still felt drawn to that place, as if he needed to be there. Abby had fun whenever he took her there — it was comforting to see her laugh and smile again.

“Yeah, the security gig.” A lump formed within his throat. He wanted to tell you all about the haunting at Freddy Fazbear’s, but it almost seemed too unbelievable. He didn’t expect you to believe him anymore after he’d grown distant from you. “It’s going. The pay is horrible, but it’s the only place that’ll take me.”

Mr. Raglan was often attempting to lure people into this security position at Freddy Fazbear’s — it must’ve been a profession with an abnormally-high turnover rate. You recalled one instance of him trying to barter with some older man to take the job.

Your memory of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was wonderfully vibrant — some of your favorite memories were spent at that restaurant as a child. Friend’s birthday parties, end-of-school summer celebrations, and your own birthday on a handful of occasions. Though, even with brighter times, there was always a splash of darkness.

One of your childhood friends had gone missing — everyone knew about the tale of the disappearing children. Your parents forbid you from going back to that establishment after law enforcement swarmed the place, with detectives scouring it from top to bottom. With a place as family-friendly as Freddy’s being involved at the center of child disappearances, it shut down.

“Freddy’s?” You asked, shifting within your seat. Mike’s countenance held a little spark of uncertainty intermingled with fear — enough for you to mention something about the restaurant’s gruesome history. “It’s supposedly haunted. You haven’t encountered any paranormal activity at night, have you?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Mike couldn’t help but smile — a sardonic, somewhat bemused expression that happened to evoke your curiosity once more. “Something like that.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, truth be told. “Working the night shift, you think you see things — the mind playing tricks or something.” He was afraid of telling you the whole truth right away.

That explained his haggard, sunken look — the disheveled tresses and forlorn stare. He must’ve been exhausted from working nights. You never had the experience of a third shift, but you didn’t envy him. “You look tired,” You chimed, and then, a proposal came to fruition. “Would you want help with watching Abby?”

Max stopped answering her phone, as if she’d become wholly disinterested in babysitting altogether. He couldn’t really blame her — he hadn’t paid up and Abby could be just as reclusive as he was. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Between you and me, I’ve been taking her to work with me. She likes it there.”

A gentle smile fluttered across your features. The animatronics were adorable — you imagined that Abby liked them quite a bit. “Sure, Mike. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I have some downtime with my job, I don’t know if you can say the same.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, chocolate hues captivated by your softened visage. Your smile was mesmerizing — that was still a constant about you, it hadn’t changed whatsoever. Those inklings of affection were spiraling into tidal waves, as if he were back at the mall again, fawning over you from afar as you handed out pretzels.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not he should invite you to come with him to the next shift he worked. It wasn’t a good idea — the animatronics were hostile toward adults, he realized. Maybe Abby could remedy that. “So, are you …” He trailed off.

Were you seeing anybody?

Did you enjoy your job?

Did you want to come over to his place for pizza?

Were you still planning on going to university?

Akin to a deer in the headlights, Mike’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his jeans as he pondered on what exactly to ask you. He wanted to fully catch up, away from the public spotlight of a run-down, dingy diner — not that his house was any better, but he could clean up.

“Are you going to university?” It was a cowardly option — he could’ve chosen the emboldened route, but it felt too soon, inquiring about details of your personal life. You didn’t owe him anything. You’d talked about going to the University of Utah countless times.

Part of you wanted to inquire about the intricacies of his own life — about his Aunt, about Abby, and perhaps delving a little deeper. You really liked Mike, especially when working at the mall together, and after all this time, nothing had changed. A soft burst of laughter escaped you, followed by a wrinkling of your nose.

“No,” You sighed, tapping your fingers against the ceramic mug sitting on your left. “I don’t know if I can go and realistically afford it. I don’t want to run myself into the ground just for school, you know? I’m trying to save up as much as I can.” Your dreams were still present — just seemingly out-of-reach.

Mike could see the flicker of frustration settle into your features, and he felt for you. He’d thought about trying for engineering at one point in time, but with his parents passing away and the weight of responsibility falling upon his shoulders, it all fell through. “I understand,” He scratched at the top of his hand. “You’ve always been too smart for me.” He mused.

“That’s not true,” You protested, playfully rolling your eyes as you nudged at his shin with your foot. “You’re just as intelligent, if not more. Do you remember when you helped me fix the salt dispenser?” A sense of giddiness rippled through you when Mike smiled — nearly tangible, oozing with warmth.

“I remember,” An inkling of humor crept into his tone, accompanied by a fluctuating smile. “I don’t think you knew what the word ‘twist’ meant.” He prodded, dark eyes twinkling with mirth as the two of you engaged in banter about work — back then, at least.

A scoff left you, but your smile remained ever-present, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth. “In my defense, it was needlessly complex. You can agree with me.” You laughed, glancing outside once more. The day was still young, trees swaying with the breeze as patrons came in and out of the diner.

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, pearlescent teeth flashing in the brief hint of a grin before it began to wane. It was a disappointment, really — you would’ve liked to see more of that. “I do miss the free pretzels.” He mused, voice having lowered to a more amiable tone. Part of him yearned for the days back at the mall — it all seemed a little easier, back then. His Aunt wasn’t trying to take his sister away, and the money was better.

The Mike that you knew back during your time in the mall was laced with a wisecrack humor, as smart as a whip, and often full of conversation. You could tell that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — it was his eternal burden, it seemed. Selflessness and compassion were ingrained into him, a second nature or instinct, and you admired him all the more for it.

“I missed you, Mike.” You confessed, gaze seemingly forlorn as the two of you lamented about the not-too-distant past.

It was as if you’d stolen the air right from his lungs, ripped it away with your bare hand. Goosebumps formed along the column of his spine, prompting him to shift within the cracking leather of the booth. You’d rendered him speechless, enough to where he felt the need to try and recuperate, lips parting as if to speak — words turned to ash upon his tongue.

Mike missed you more than words could properly describe — he couldn’t convey whatever it was he wanted to say. He’d kick himself knowing that he let this go, let you go, when it could’ve been his all along. A bevy of emotions stirred within his chest, prompting him to dig the heel of his palms into his legs.

Maybe that lifeline, that support — it was something that he sorely needed. That was his justification, his excuse to say he needed you in a roundabout way. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, jaw clenching and unclenching within the same breath.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, gaining the courage to look you in the eyes this time. “I missed you, too.” His confession hung heavy, like a weight dragging the both of you back into this unspoken sentiment. Whatever courage was instilled in him, he decided to go the extra mile. “You should come over sometime.”

Exhilaration happened to be a mere understatement for whatever it was you felt in that moment — it was borderline ecstasy. You were wholly prepared to launch yourself at the opportunity to spend time with him again, but you composed yourself, keeping any giddiness at bay as you nodded.

“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot, Mike. It’d be nice to see Abby again, too.” You smiled, excitement dancing across your features, barely restrained as you cleared your throat. “I don’t want it to conflict with your work schedule or anything.” You blurted, hoping that he’d be able to keep up with sleep, too.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d invited someone over, but this was you — Mike had already squandered your friendship once before, and he wasn’t about to repeat the past again. It weighed on his conscience enough. “It won’t. Promise.” He reassured you, unable to keep from smiling this time. “Tomorrow night?”

Heat crawled across your features, sinking into your very bones as you cleared your throat. “Tomorrow night works perfectly.” You checked your watch out of habit, nearly cursing yourself when you realized what time it was. You had fifteen minutes to spare before you were officially late for work. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“I understand. Walk you to your car?” Mike offered, gesturing toward the weed-laden parking lot as you scrambled to toss a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the countertop.

“Of course.” Each night after work, he’d walk you to your beat-down, shitty Acura, making sure that you were safe and sound in the dark parking lot. It was comforting to know that his habit hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Once outside, Mike stuck close to your side, hands slipping back into the pockets of his faded jacket as he walked with you to your car. Trash billowed through the parking lot like a tumbleweed, narrowly missing the front of your Acura. “She’s still running?” He teased, patting the top of your decaying vehicle.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the car. It’s still chugging along. That’s more than you can say about your Accord.” You snickered, tossing your bag inside of the passenger door before turning toward Mike. Awkwardness welled inside of you — it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged him before, but something nagged away at you this time.

Mike let out a huff of laughter, head canting to one side. “Touché.” He mused, visage softening as he looked you over. You were pretty — too pretty for him, but he decided to skip over the brief bout of self-depreciation. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice trailed off in something of an inquiry.

“Absolutely. I’m excited,” You beamed, and without thinking this time, shuffled closer to give him a hug. Much to your delight, he reciprocated, arms wrapping tightly around you, bringing you in against his chest. You could’ve stayed that way for an eternity — but now, you had ten minutes to spare before work. “Thank you, Mike. For everything.”

He was completely and utterly undeserving of you, but Mike counted his lucky stars that you still wanted to stick around. Instead, he accepted your gratitude, wanting to hold you just a little longer — if only. He reluctantly relinquished his grasp on you, gaze oozing with a saccharine warmth. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Drive safe.”

You smiled, exuberant and chipper before you squeezed his hand. “See you tomorrow.” You mused, hopping into the driver’s seat of your rattling, sputtering Acura as you sluggishly pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Mike lingered in the lot, glancing toward the fading pavement, and then toward the sky — he had so much cleaning up to do tomorrow.

“Help me clean up around here, and I’ll buy you new crayons.”

It was the only viable bribing he could do to get Abby to help him with picking up around the house. Given his chaotic work schedule and the newfound circumstances with the haunted animatronics, there was little time to keep the house tidy.

He’d gone to work that night after you’d departed from the parking lot, slept a little bit while Abby entertained herself with her friends, and went home when the sun came up. He was tense after the first few times he’d taken Abby to the Pizzeria — the animatronics were still dangerous, but nothing bad had happened.

Yet, anyway.

“Who’s coming over?” Abby asked, collecting remnants of trash and crayon pieces from around the living room, depositing it all into the trash can. “Why do we have to clean up if it’s Aunt Jane?” She mumbled, somewhat dejected as Mike scrubbed the dishes.

“It’s not Aunt Jane,” He cleared his throat, visage swarming with heat as it turned a light shade of pink. “You remember Y/N, right? From the mall — she worked at the pretzel place. She gave you the sugar pretzels.” Mike hoped that his sister would remember you, but there were no guarantees. It’d been awhile.

Abby gasped, realization glittering across her features as she grinned — toothy and mischievous. “You like her,” She prompted, standing by her brother as he tediously made his way through the stack sitting by the sink. “Is she coming over for a date?”

“No, it’s not a date, Abby.” Mike groaned, flicking a wad of soapy bubbles at her. She squealed, smacking at his arm before he gestured toward the closet. “Need you to run the vacuum around, okay?” He sighed, wondering if he’d end up regretting this.

“Okay.” Abby sighed, begrudgingly making her way to the storage closet, haphazardly untangling the cord to the vacuum before plugging it in. “Can we get pizza?” She asked, standing beside the couch, vacuum sitting next to her. “Please, Mike?”

“We’ll get pizza, Abs.” He hesitated, swiveling upon his heel as she sat atop the arm of the couch, watching him finish up the dishes instead of vacuuming. “Does the floor clean itself?” Mike teased with a grin, prompting his sister to hop off of her perch, starting up the vacuum as she began to run it around the living room.

By the time Abby finished vacuuming and he’d gotten the kitchen into a near-spotless state, he focused on tidying up his bedroom and getting the laundry together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through the entire house like this on a whirlwind just to make it tidy for you — and he’d do it all again if he needed to.

As he tucked the corner of his blanket underneath the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. Mike assumed that it was the pizza guy — or so he hoped. He wanted everything to be perfect, considering that you hadn’t really hung out together since the mall.

“Mike! Pizza!” Abby called out, sitting at the dining room table with a handful of crayons and sheets of paper. She was drawing another picture for her friends — it was all of them in a field of flowers, accompanied by a bright sun and plenty of birds.

It gave him an opportunity to check over the house as he made his way to the front door, ensuring that everything looked spotless. Admittedly, it was the best the house had looked in several months — a twinge of pride rippled through him as he opened up the door.

After Mike handed him a very weathered twenty, the man reluctantly handed the pizza boxes over before hopping off of the front steps.

The timing was perfect — ten minutes later, and the guttural lurching of your Acura could be heard pulling into the driveway outside. Mike placed the pizza onto the table, tossing a handful of paper plates beside it. Abby leaned over, peering toward the door as he lingered close by.

You were nervous — you couldn’t explain it.

Part of you felt wonderfully ridiculous, having worn something that you considered cute to his house, applied a splash of makeup here and there. As you sluggishly made your way to his front door, you smoothed your hands over your blouse, hands knitting together. You waited a beat, and knocked on the door.

Mike was there instantaneously, as if he’d somehow teleported to that very spot. The door flung open, and you were greeted by his beaming countenance. It was the happiest you’d seen him in some time, which was something of a relief. He looked attractive — the emerald sweater suited him perfectly.

“Hi,” You greeted, offering him a brief wave as you stepped inside, only to be swarmed by Abby in the process. “Abby!” You giggled, stooping down to return the girl’s hug. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you? You’re going to beat your brother in no time.” You teased, lips twitching into a grin.

“Did you bring any pretzels?” Abby asked, staring at you with those large, doe-like eyes. A pang of guilt struck at your stomach — you hadn’t worked at Auntie Anne’s for several months now.

“No,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t make pretzels anymore. I put away lots of paperwork now.” It sounded less appealing when you said it outloud. “I did bring something else for you, though.” You unzipped your bag, revealing a very fuzzy, stuffed rabbit.

Abby gasped, taking ahold of your gift as she squeezed it against her chest. “He’s so cute!” She giggled, showing off the bunny to Mike, who couldn’t help but smile. You’d always been very good to Abby, able to forge a bond with her that he envied on occasion. “Thank you!”

Laughter bubbled forth from your lips, mirth sparkling upon your features. “Of course! I hope he keeps you warm at night.” You mused, glancing towards the pizza boxes organized in a neat row on the dining room table. “You got Greek’s? You’re spoiling me.”

As Abby hopped toward the table to dig into the cheese pizza, Mike gestured at the kitchen. You followed him over, removing your jacket as you hung it on one of the pegs along the wall. “Want something to drink?” He asked, noticing the bemused expression you wore. “I don’t have anything stronger than Dr. Pepper.”

Your nose wrinkled in amusement as you leaned against the countertop, glancing over your shoulder at Abby. The rabbit sat soundly at her side, crayons and paper scattered on the empty side of the table. “I’ll just drink Dr. Pepper.” You chimed, having a gander at your surroundings. You’d been to his place several times before, but it was abnormally spotless.

“Sure,” Mike mused, handing you a can of soda before clearing his throat. “Abby wants to watch Labyrinth, if that’s okay with you.” He’d watched the movie a hundred times before — it was one of her favorites. Unfortunately, he’d memorized most of Bowie’s quotes throughout the film.

“Absolutely,” You chuckled, popping open the drink with a soft hiss. “I wouldn’t say no to that, anyway. It’s a certified classic.” With a bright smile, you and Mike returned to the table, joining Abby as you ate pizza together. The atmosphere was beyond comforting to you — you wondered why you were so anxious to begin with.

It felt like home.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Mike was completely and utterly bored with Labyrinth. The two of you sat a comfortable distance away on the couch, Abby laying on the floor, dozing in and out of slumber. You kept your voice hushed, knees tucked toward your chest as a playful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen this movie?” Mike whispered, rolling off of the couch as he stooped down to pick up Abby, making sure to grab her rabbit, too. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” He murmured, and you decided to follow, making sure to retrieve her crayons and half-drawn doodles.

As Mike slowly crept into Abby’s room, he tucked his sister into bed, making sure that she had her stuffed animal, blankets neat around her. You stacked the crayons and drawings back onto her desk, standing at the fringes of the doorway.

Crickets chirped outside as dusk settled like a cool blanket, stars spattered across the night sky. It was peaceful, especially as you watched Mike press a kiss against the top of Abby’s head.

Once he closed the door behind him, the two of you returned to the living room. You were more than happy to help him clean up the pizza remnants and any dishes, folding up the boxes to put into the trash until you were both back on the couch again.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Mike. Thank you for inviting me over — and for buying me dinner, too.” You mused, the two of you a little closer than before. Labyrinth provided a simple background lull, the volume barely above silent. “Do you want me to pay you back?”

“I’m glad we got to do this again,” Mike felt butterflies erupt within the pit of his stomach. The sudden realization of being alone with you was tantalizing, at best. Gooseflesh spread across the back of his neck, one hand poised atop the arm of the sofa. “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

“Okay,” A soft huff of laughter left you as you tilted your head back against the plush material, one hand within your lap as the other dangled uselessly at your side. “Could I ask you something?”

Mike nodded, swallowing the growing lump within this throat. A nervous excitement flared up inside of him, as if a match had been struck. A slick perspiration broke out on his palms — he wanted to tell you everything. About the animatronics, about Garrett, about how he felt about you — and yet, he was afraid. “Anything.”

You briefly chewed at the inside of your cheek, adjusting your position to look at him fully. “Did I do something wrong to cause you to pull away from me?” You asked, voice dropping into a soft lull. It was a question that had been on your mind since this whole rekindling.

“Absolutely not,” Mike blurted, and immediately shook his head. “It’s just — after what happened at the mall, I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” He confessed, dark hues echoing with shame. “Legal issues piled up, I was out of a job. It’s been a lot.”

What do you think of him?

Mike Schmidt was the center of your world for the longest time — and now that he was back, it was as if the Moon had come back into orbit, bright and full again. He was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, and you wouldn’t change anything at all. “Mike,” You mumbled, reaching for his hand as your fingers closed around his own. “I don’t think any less of you. I never have.”

Your skin was smooth, velveteen as he adjusted his grip, fingers twining together as you sat on the couch, closer than ever before. The distance between the both of you was steadily declining, and he didn’t mind. “I felt like I ruined things between us before,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Your heart thrummed within your chest, beating erratically beneath your breast. A subtle gasp hitched within your throat, producing only a sliver of sound. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’ve been through so much, Mike. I can’t blame you for needing space.”

“I felt like I lost what could have been.” He confessed, voice growing abnormally thick. Mike stared at you with those round, dark eyes of his — they were impossibly beautiful, like an inescapable maze. You wondered what he meant by that — what could have been.

Whatever he meant, you hoped that it meant one thing — something unspoken, the sentiment that lingered between the two of you. It was as if a flame had been stoked, roaring to life again as it steadily consumed the both of you.

“What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” He exhaled, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit of his.

Your lips were melded to his before either of you had a chance to properly absorb the weight of the moment. He was a gentle kisser — so sweet and oozing with compassion that you wanted to drown in it. His week-old stubble scratched against your visage, a sign that this was all very real.

Experience wasn’t a foreign concept for you, but Mike was — he was so tender, as if any movement might break you into pieces. Even his kisses were sluggish, as if he were really taking his time. You couldn’t complain about that whatsoever. You rocked forward, untangling your hands as your digits twisted into his sweater.

“Hey,” Mike breathed, doe-eyed and dazed as he withdrew, mere inches apart from you. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, ensuring that you were comfortable before going any further. He hadn’t had sex — maybe everything before, but nothing further.

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your voice low as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Are you? I don’t want you to push anything if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured, and he shook his head, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth.

His fingers swept across your cheek, caressing along your jaw as he cradled your face within his palm. “I’m fine,” Mike reassured you, but his heartbeat said otherwise. Exhilaration and excitement were mere understatements. Everything else had paled in comparison to you in that moment. “You’re really beautiful.”

A soft wisp of air tore past your parted lips, gaze becoming half-lidded as you repositioned your hands, one slipping against the nape of his neck. The other remained stationary atop his chest, and you leaned in again for another passionate kiss.

Mike was warm — he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Distance became slim, next to nothing as you crawled into his lap, slotted atop one of his thighs as you continued to kiss him. It turned sultry, charged with a more intimate element as one hand settled against your hip, digits toying with the hem of your blouse. His scent was that of cologne and fresh linens, perhaps a hint of something sweet.

He switched the television off, holding you close, chest to chest as you broke away from the kiss. The way he looked at you was mesmerizing to behold — Mike stared at you as if you were some diamond in the rough. You pressed your lips against his cheek, reveling in the way he keened into your embrace.

Your mouth peppered a string of kisses along his jaw, tugging some of his sweater down as you made your way along his neck. A soft, simpering groan escaped him when your mouth met his neck, enough for you to shiver with delight. His hands began to skim underneath your shirt, feeling along your curves.

“S’nice.” Mike mumbled, able to feel the tangible imprint of your smile against his jugular. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kissed like that — he nearly asked for you to do it again, tugging you closer as your mouth crept back up, lips seamlessly melding against his.

He was sweet — you thoroughly enjoyed the way he touched you, with a gallant certainty. There wasn’t a singular domineering bone in his body, and you were all the more grateful for it. You nearly flew out of his lap when you heard a noise from the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” You whispered, watching as Mike nodded, moving up from the couch as he reached for your hand this time. It was a very short skip to his room, which happened to be impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house. It was dark and nondescript, but before you could analyze it all, you felt his hands fly back to your blouse.

You lifted your arms, feeling the weight of the fabric leave your body. Goosebumps followed like a tidal wave, scrawled across your flesh as Mike kissed you again. It never lacked passion — it wasn’t rough nor desiring dominance, just complete and utter sweetness.

Mike was hesitant to confess to being a virgin — it didn’t necessarily matter, but it came back to the whole notion of what you would think. He wasn’t clueless in the slightest, but you deserved to know. Maybe you’d be disappointed.

As you sank down onto the edge of the mattress, he followed suit, clamoring with you until the both of you ended up tangled together atop the pillows. Every kiss was heartachingly sweet, fused together with a blistering tenderness. Your heat tilted, deepening your entanglement as your hands clutched at his sweater.

“I’ve never done this before,” He murmured, prompting you to pause, feeling the weight of his body partially draped on top of you. “Does that bother you?” Mike asked, earthen hues scanning your expression for any sign of hesitancy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” In fact, you found it to be endearing — it made everything sweeter. “I’ve done this before. Does that bother you?” It wasn’t something that you wore as a badge of honor. He was a shitty guy anyway, but what happened, happened.

Mike gently shook his head, feeling your fingers slip underneath the hem of his sweater. “Not in the slightest.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. His hands stilled for a moment, stomach sloshing with excitement and a newfound sense of giddiness. “Can I touch you?”

His asking for consent was sweet — perhaps it was the doe-eyed, affectionate look he had or the soft tone of his voice, or both. Nonetheless, you found yourself enticed, feeling his hands dance around the waistband of your jeans. You were the emboldened one, wriggling out of the snug garment without warning.

“Yes,” You uttered, giving his sweater another urgent tug, wanting to feel more of him. Mike obliged, kneeling between your legs as he removed the emerald-colored garment, letting it join the pile amassing at the foot of his bed. “You’re so pretty.” You sighed, and he blushed.

The compliment did wonders for him, and he became visibly smitten by your words. He was all lean muscle, nothing bulky or grotesque, broad shoulders layered in a light smattering of freckles. “Thanks.” It got him to smile again, dutifully returning to you as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat.

Before you had time to conjure up a playful remark, his mouth was against yours, body closer than before as his hands felt across your form. Your arms draped themselves around his neck, fingers roaming through his dark tresses as you gave them a light tug. It elicited a soft noise from the back of his throat.

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, chasing after that sensation. Even kissing you made him aroused, cock pulsating with a dull throbbing as his thigh nudged against your clothed core. It became increasingly hot and less tactful, kisses devolving into a mess of need — teeth, tongue, and want.

It was his turn to layer the column of your throat in a myriad of kisses, stubble tickling the silky flesh of your neck. Your knees squeezed at his hips, feeling one of his hands knead into your clothed chest, gently groping at your breast. A low moan escaped you, and you only wanted more.

“Keep going.” You encouraged, voice breathy and wrought with a sultry tension. You reached back, hastily fiddling with the clasp of your brassiere, flinging the garment aside. Mike’s visage was permanently tinted with a shade of rose, lips parting as he resumed his touching.

Instead, his hand skimmed lower, and he searched your countenance for any signal of disdain as it dipped beneath the waistline of your panties. Mike’s breath hitched within his throat when he touched you, fingers finding your cunt, already slick with arousal. “More?” He asked, seeking a little bit of guidance.

“Yes,” You groaned, hips canting forward into his embrace, desperate for friction. He provided it to you with a swiftness, hunched over you as two digits slipped past your folds, stroking along your slit. “Mike!” Another simpering whine left you, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

He was so sweet, like sticky, oozing honey as he pressed a string of kisses along the side of your face, pressing himself closer as his fingers found their rhythm. They slid against your aching core, one circling around your clit, causing you to lurch forward.

Mike appeared surprised when you reached for his belt, hastily unclasping it with one hand. Another pang of excitement struck him as you delved beneath his jeans with a neediness that he so desperately craved. He was starved for contact, ministrations slowing when your hand slipped into his boxers.

His cock twitched, bleeding heat into your palm as you felt around, experimenting at first. There was a dazed, needy look in his eyes, chocolate hues glazed-over by a sheen of want. Desperation was a mere understatement — he was starving, needing the contact like he needed air. You provided, amiable as ever.

“You — You don’t have to,” Mike mumbled, attempting to mask the complete and utter bliss he was feeling in that moment. As your soft palm wrapped around his cock, he let out a guttural whine, forehead pressed into yours. “Jesus.” He groaned, trying to keep his volume at a reasonable octave.

“Don’t stop,” You huffed, feeling him sink lower onto you, heat radiating from your entangled bodies. “Mike, please.” Another moan left you when he resumed in full swing, barely able to focus on pleasuring you and his own state of enjoyment.

As his thumb pressed into your clit, his other digits sought to gently prod at your cunt, beginning to work themselves inside of you. It was perfectly in-tandem with the slow strokes of your palm around his erection, pumping at his length with a scorching level of desire. He was panting in your ear, hips snapping forward into your hand.

It was heat and desire and passion that blossomed between the both of you, like a thick, inescapable haze. His flesh felt dewy beneath your fingertips, which found residence against the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his disheveled tresses.

He was borderline rutting into your thigh, lurching forward into your fist, cock throbbing with a dull ache as you continued to stroke him off. Mike wanted to be loud, but there was a risk involved in that. A needy, sonorous moan left him, ghosting above the shell of your ear as his fingers gently pistoned in and out of your tight cunt.

“You’re perfect,” He breathed, mumbling an incoherent string of sweet nothings into your shoulder. Perspiration crept along the column of your spine, knees occasionally squeezing at Mike’s hips as the two of you touched one another as if it were your last time. “Perfect.” Mike mumbled again.

You tugged on his hair, dragging him closer for another sloppy, obliging kiss, to which he happily reciprocated. You could hear another whimper leave him as your lips clashed, causing you to shudder in delight. He was thrusting himself into your palm, tendrils of precum slick against your fingers.

“Want me to stop?” You mumbled, and he nodded against your shoulder. Mike knew that if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last — and it seemed completely and utterly pathetic if he did so this early on. Your grasp began to slack, hand slipping out of his boxers.

A twinge of disappointment ripped through you when his hand ceased, but it dissipated just as soon as it appeared. Mike’s hands curled into the waistband of your panties, gingerly easing them down along the length of your legs, body slipping lower as he did so. His gaze silently begged for your consent, and you weren’t about to refuse him.

“Is this okay?” Mike murmured, shuddering in delight when your head bobbed up and down several times over in an enthusiastic nod. He hadn’t done this before, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult — and he was a quick learner. He pressed a trail of benevolent kisses along your thigh, stubble tickling your flesh in the process.

Your throat became thick, feeling his broad shoulders push past your legs, keeping them parted. “Mike,” A sigh of passion left you, hand clamoring to grasp at his tresses yet again. One hand kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh, the other splayed atop your hip bone until your fingers found his.

Nervousness swelled within him as he inched closer, feeling some nagging pang of hesitation. He was terrified of disappointing you, but he remembered what you’d said earlier — you’d never think less of him. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A soft utterance emerged from him before he dipped inward, breath hot as it fanned across your thighs.

Not in the slightest.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, stoking the flame that burned bright within the pit of your stomach. Mike’s head became foggy with lust, swimming with desire as he kept a more exploratory pace. Your honeyed scent wafted around him, dragging him in again as he laps at your slit.

You were in disbelief — he hadn’t done this before? It almost prompted you to ask, but his mouth happened to rip those thoughts right out of your skull. A soft barrage of licks lashing against your cunt had you squirming, hips rolling forward into his mouth. A low moan left the both of you, fingers perusing through his mop of dark curls.

A myriad of whimpers left your parted lips, causing Mike to shift against the mattress, hips grinding forward to relieve some of the friction. His cock strained against his boxers, finding pleasure just in giving it all to you.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. Your thighs quivered as warmth pooled between your thighs, and Mike was there to kiss it all better, tongue trailing over your cunt again and again, stubble prickling at your soft flesh.

He wanted to be inside of you so bad — there was an ache present, one that only you could cure. Mike wanted to savor you, drunk upon your very being as a soft groan left him. Your digits continued to tug on his tresses, causing him to keen forward, lips pursing around your clit.

“S—Shit, Mike!” You mewled, attempting to keep your volume at a hushed octave. It was proving to be increasingly difficult, writhing against him as he hunched inward, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Mike inhaled, kissing the inside of your thigh as he dutifully lapped at your slit again. He alternated between your wet cunt and clit, suckling on the sensitive clutch of nerves. His jaw clenched, hips jolting into the mattress again as he haplessly tried to relieve some of the mounting tension.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesus — his resolve crumbled with every sound you made, each cant of your hips as you rocked into his mouth. Mike let out a whimper — he almost hoped that you didn’t hear how pathetic it sounded, continuing to lap at your core until you were seeing white.

That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. Mike continued to sweetly embrace your cunt, lips lightly kissing at your clit. Your body rattled like a leaf, tremors of your orgasm shooting through you.

“I need you,” Mike huffed, his voice strung-out with lust, hoarse and throaty as his fingers clamped into the pliant flesh of your hips. “Please.” You were on the cusp of cumming, hopelessly aroused by his sweet pleas as you lifted his head away, enough for him to look at you.

Those sweet, doe-like eyes of his were dilated with desire, his expression one of sheer desperation, breathing having sped up. You sat up on your elbows, enthralled by the way he hovered between your legs like a ravenous man. “You can have me,” You murmured. “Always.”

Mike sprung into action, hastily tearing his jeans off as he crawled up the length of your body, pressing a string of appreciative kisses against your velveteen skin. “You’ll stop me, right?” He inquired, nearly rendered speechless when you hitched a leg around his waist, fingers grasping at his shoulders.

“Yeah,” You nodded, feeling his fingertips ghost along your hairline, idly pushing disheveled strands aside before he stooped in for a kiss. You had no intention of stopping him whatsoever, reciprocating his affections before you plucked at the waistband of his boxers. “Just go at your own pace, okay?”

He was filled with longing, bursting at the seams as he freed his cock from its confines. He feared that he wouldn’t last long at all if he went this extra mile, but there was no turning back. Mike didn’t want to turn back, either. A moan rippled through him as he dragged the head of his length through your folds.

It reminded you of a feral animal — his countenance glistened with an ardent sensuality, pupils blown-out with lust as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Admittedly, you loved that Mike was so needy — and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. He lacked a single ounce of dominance, even if he was on top of you.

“You feel so good,” You moaned, forehead pressed against his own as he began to move, hips awkwardly snapping forward. It was a rocky, unstable rhythm, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. “Mike,” A wanton sigh left you as your hands found his tresses once more.

Mike’s mouth brushed against yours, thrusting himself inside of you as he gained a rather sluggish pace. His cock throbbed uncomfortably, yearning for a release as he rocked forward again. Another low-pitched whine left him when you tugged on his hair. “I—It’s perfect.” He panted, flesh searing and damp.

His head dropped toward your collarbone, face buried within the crook between your neck and shoulder. A shudder rolled down the length of his spine as you coaxed him close, hips occasionally grinding into his pelvis, creating a friction that he wanted to chase after.

A string of incoherent babbles escaped him, enigmatic and so very breathy, hot skin melding against your own body. His pace became borderline erratic, as if he didn’t know what fit — he just wanted to be inside of you. It felt euphoric, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock as he rutted into you.

Ecstasy blistered through him like a tidal wave, and he almost felt dizzy, fucking into you at a constantly-shifting pace. He alternated from sluggish to swift, unsure of what felt right, but you were mewling into his ear. You showered him with sweetly-spoken praises, mouth seeking his lips for another messy kiss.

Mike’s hips continued to snap forward, cock aching as he neared his release. Your hand snaked between the both of you, thumb circling your clit as he bucked forward again, releasing another groan. “M’close.” Mike huffed, giving you ample forewarning as he kept up the pace.

“Please cum for me,” It was needlessly filthy, the command that tore past your mouth, but it certainly evoked a strong reaction from him. He stammered, letting out a whine as he fucked into you with a lazy passion. “Cum in me, Mike.” You moaned.

He didn’t know if he heard you right, but he rutted into you again and again, cock pulsing with warmth as he came. Mike pulled out halfway through, painting your thigh in hot ropes of his cum, flesh blazing with embarrassment.

Even in the blissful aftermath, he couldn’t help but apologize for the mess. “Sorry,” He was blushing, chest heaving with excitement as he regained his composure, slowly but surely. The rush and exhilarating thrill was still present as he rolled off of the bed, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth from his bathroom. “Here.”

His apology was endearing — sickly-sweet, too. You cleaned yourself off, making sure that the cloth ended up in the dirty laundry. You were sitting up just enough for him to press in behind you, feeling his lips pepper themselves along your spine.

You twisted around, curling into his arms as you draped yourself on top of him, swollen lips coaxing him in for an achingly tender kiss. It was pure bliss — it lacked the crazed desire from earlier, lust dissipating into affection instead. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“Positive,” Mike assured, hiking the sheets up over the both of you, watching as you wormed your way into one of his t-shirts. “You’re really beautiful.” He murmured, digits stroking at your hair, caressing around your temples as you perched your chin atop his chest.

“So are you.” Your smile became saccharine, entranced by your brown-eyed paramour. “Your eyes are pretty,” You uttered, hands splaying themselves out against his chest as he held you close. “So warm.”

Crimson saturated his features as he accepted your doting compliments without question. He wasn’t used to it, but he could adjust. Your lips were swift this time, melding together in a seamless kiss as he took his time, committing every detail of you to memory. “Stay with me?” He murmured, palm lightly caressing at the back of your head.

“Of course.” You settled, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets as you made yourself comfortable within his arms. It was something that you weren’t bound to forget about anytime soon, dozing off to the sound of his steady breathing.

It was the best he’d slept in ages.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #mike schmidt x y/n #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #slasher x reader #fanfiction #josh hutcherson

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assortedseaglass · 4 months

Text

🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #mistletoe #saltburn #OI SALTBURN PEEPS #if you're fed up with the lack of oliver and felix fanfic #write your own and leave us to thirst over the nerd in peace #merry christmas!#hilde's twelve days of christmas

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blueberrypancakesworld · 6 months

Text

Dominant William Afton

Look at your pretty face

Imagine you are William's plaything and he loves it when he can put his hand around your neck. When he takes you and presses your upper body against the one-sided mirror wall. The cold of the glass makes your nipples hard every time he thrusts you against the surface. You feel his hot breath on your ear and degrade yourself for your sloppy reaction. ,,F-fuck you take me so good ah-such a bitch" he praises you as you tighten around him and your moan is easily stifled by his hand. His left hand had placed itself on your hip leaving painful sweet marks when he positions you just the way he wants it. Your hands with each of his hard thrusts that demand more and more slip always a bit over the glass and you could hardly grasp a clear thought. You felt how he presses himself closer to you, his right hand wraps around you and takes the air away from your throat. ,,So f-fucking good for me" hits your ear and you feel his tongue licking over your earlobe. Your goosebumps only pleased him more. Tears ran down your eyes as he drilled his nails into your hips and just wanted to have more of you. The colorful spots and red streaks were already slightly visible in the meantime. It was almost like his knife which still left cuts on your body. His cock almost impales you but fuck you love it so much and told him again and again in a fit of moans and murmurs. You hardly noticed your voice and his sadistic chuckle sounded again and again in the room when he pressed harder on your neck. He knew exactly that his cock was wider than that of your boyfriend Mikes cock could never have taken you so good. Your boyfriend's cock, however, was the last thing on your mind while your boss fucked your brains out. You could hardly count how many times this had already happened and he had also just bent you over his desk no matter if he still had a customer or not. No matter if he was on the phone and he pushes you on your knees and his rough hands play with your hair strands while you suck his cock so well. Thoughts that came to you and went all the faster when he hit just the right spot and another pitiful moan and plea left your lips. And all this in the knowledge and see that exactly behind the one-sided transparent glass pane is your unknowing boyfriend Michael. Who looked exactly at the place of the mirror with a quiet ignorant look while his girlfriend is fucked behind it.

masterlist

@kedamonomonoligh , @rl-nancyholbrook, @oceansrose2002, @mxstly-melancholy, @shadix-the-red-shadow, @trashy-panda777

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf 2023 #five nights at freddy's movie #five nights at freddys #matthew lillard #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you

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tenjiiku · 4 months

Note

not the kaiser thoughts 🫣

claws / au

tw: dubious content, murder

There is a certain awkwardness to you that Michael Kaiser finds indisputably adorable. A few things, actually. The way your eyes lift up to stare at him, even when the two of you are on the same level. The small tremor of excitement that goes through you when you watch him murmur profanities under his mouth as he leaves the guidance counsellor’s office — reprimanded after making some poor, unassuming kid spill blood across the lot after they made a pass at you. The small hands that run through his hair, the withdrawn eyes that stare down at him as he lays his head in your lap — the almost bashful, diffident, meek smile that paints itself on your equally timorous features as you whisper to him your version of sweet nothings;

“Use your left fist, next time. You’d have drawn more blood that way.”

Michael finds many, many things about you utterly, irrefutably darling.

You are not like the rest. Not like anything he has seen before. A marvel only he knows the truth about. And you are a generous giver. You tempt him just right, proving he is just as much of a deity, to you, as you are, to him.

When you do not show up to school at your designated meeting place (behind the bleachers of the old abandoned field no one in the school utilizes after a viral wireworm infestation), Kaiser skips first class and heads to the isolated trailer park your dilapidated house reside. His poor angel, what a benevolent person handed such dirty cards. It was only right he be your saviour — your salvation.

He manages up the wilting wisteria tree with ease, considering he has done it many a time in the past — and he knocks at your window. Michael knows it was not any good news. Your curtains were drawn — and they were never closed for him.

After a few seconds of no response, he coaxes you softly. How he knows you like it.

“Darling, let me in.”

No response. He lays his lips flat, and knocks on the window pane which threatens to break at the slightest touch. He could, if he wanted to. But he cares too much for you to scare you away at this point.

“Baby. It’s me. Let me in, okay?” He murmurs — coos — gently.

A second passes. Then another. Then, a hand pulls the curtains away. The sight of you takes him aback.

“Michael…” you mumble, brows furrowed from confusion. Michael only can stare. At your bruised eye, at the wound on your forehead, the gash at your cheek. Your skin was clean when he touched you. He has seen your scars on your body, before. He has made sure for so long, now, that no other arises.

He’d slipped up, somehow.

“My baby,” He whispers, a rarity considering his voice is never anything but loud. He has you in his arms now, resting himself on your mattress and you, on his legs. “What’d the bastard do to you? Tell me.”

His tone changing from warm to frigid in less than a second, you laugh. And while under any circumstance he would find it to be cute, he finds it anything but that.

“Michael.. what—,” you still, looking down at your trembling hands, bunched together. You look small, like this. Michael could kill you and no one would know. “I—It’s. It’s whatever. You know how he is when he’s drunk.”

You speak in a low tone. This is the first time he has seen you so, truly timid, he thinks. Michael finds his stomach contract. His arms tighten and he feels a fire burn in his loins.

“Give me the go.” He mumbles against your temple. Sensing you tense, he lets you pull slightly away so you can look up into his eyes.

“Give me it. I’ll bring you his head.”

“Are you fucking insane? Michael—.”

“I don’t know,” he cuts you off, pressing your forehead against your bloody one, eyes unblinking, “You tell me.”

“Seeing you like this might make me do anything,” he whispers against your cracked lips, covered in dry blood. When he hoists his shotgun from his holster around his waist and feels you flinch at the audible sound, he can’t help but smile at the way your eyes flit to the side to get a closer look.

“What the fuck… where did you get that?”

Michael places a hand on your cheek, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. He moves it to your bottom lip, adam’s apple bobbing at the gesture.

“My old man’s parting gift. Ma shot him with it. She kept it under her old dresser, too scared to do much with it.” He tilts your chin down, placing a kiss on the wound on your forehead and tightening his hold around you, “I think it’d be fitting if it killed another piece of shit. It’s been feeling lonely.”

Before you can say anything else, the sound of clamour downstairs renders you quiet. You recoil. And the sight makes Michael a bit annoyed. He does not want to see you that way, unless it is him making you so.

“Baby,” he murmurs, forcing your head to his chest, “close your eyes.”

The footsteps begin to grow closer.

“Michael…”

A pounding starts on the creaky floorboards.

“We’ll go on a small trip after this. Just the two of us, okay?” He mumbles, slotting something into his mouth.

The screech of your name. It makes him furrow his brow and lay his lips flat.

“Michael!” You say, louder now. He whips his head down. You wince. Michael does not know why you are making such a petrified expression, but, he realizes he is not repulsed by it like he is with so many others. He has seen many sides of you. This may begin to be his favourite. “I, I—.”

Forcing your chin up, he presses his lips against yours. You thrash against him for a few seconds, probably out of surprise, but settle into him when his tongue slots itself into your open, begging mouth. It is almost too easy to slide the pill into your throat. You were almost too meek for your own good.

Not saying anything else, Michael sighs as you resign yourself into him — your only place, your only comfort.

He gives a small kiss to your forehead as you slump against his body, eyes dozing off into unconsciousness. He lays your insentient frame on the mattress, leaning over you as the light from the open door behind him blinds you.

“That’s my girl.”

Not even a shot is heard.

#writing #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x fem reader

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slashers-and-rats · 7 months

Note

Could you make Michael Myers' reaction to entering a house during a hunt and see a mother and her two children sleeping hugging on the couch?

rat chat: micheal seems like the type that would have some general morals. that’s kinda what this fic in general is demonstrating.

micheal myers x fem!reader | sfw |

micheal felt the autumn leaves crunching underneath his boots. no matter how silently he crept through this backyard, the sound still managed to escape into the quiet of the night. he was lucky that the wind was blowing, hard and loud, as it covered up any of his footsteps.

he was careful as he slithered up to the back of this house. there wasn’t anything special about it, nothing that drew him in and made him sure this was the target. there was no rhyme or reason in what micheal did, not always. sometimes, when hunting, he just needed to make a choice based on nothing but his own instincts. there was nothing different about this home. the only thing he noticed was a few balls strewn about the backyard.

‘must have a pet to watch out for’, he thought to himself.

he pressed himself up to a window, peering into the dark of a random room. upon further inspection, it seemed to be a living room, since in the very middle there was a couch. on the couch, laying as if she were bait in a trap, there was a woman.

micheal didn’t see much of her, only her head laying back against the top of the seat. she was dead asleep, clear by the way her mouth hung open in silent snores. he took note of her position, lingering for a moment. she seemed peaceful. he almost felt as though he shouldn’t ruin this moment- maybe he could find another house, and satiate his needs that way. but, it was too late into the night, he had to commit. didn’t he?

he pried himself away from the pane, stepping back and going to a nearby door. he found the knob and tried a few times, finally feeling it creak open and swing out near him. this neighbourhood was notorious for unlocked back doors (as if an intruder would only try the front).

he stepped up into the house, glancing down at the welcome mat he was met with. ‘remember to wipe’, it read in colourful, bubbly font. he tilted his head, amused that some woman would not have grown out of such childish things. he shrugged, deciding to amuse this little request, and he wiped some of the dirt from his boots off onto the mat. he then began his ascent into the home, weaving his way through the halls until he was back where he needed to be.

right there, sitting on the couch, was the woman from the window. micheal could hear her soft breathing now, and see the way her shoulders rose and fell with each breath. he examined her from the doorway for a minute, tracing over the shadows that adorned her face.

something tugged at him, urging him to leave and abandon this prey to its warren. he didn’t understand it, thinking that there was some… performance anxiety, or something of the like. it usually happened when he was walking into a bad situation, like a trap or a victim that liked to fight, but this didn’t seem like something he should be nervous about. it was just some lady, a sleeping beauty unaware of his presence. this was an easy target. it should be, at least.

he stepped up closer to the couch, and rounded it so that he was at the front. it’s then that he learned what the feeling was, or what it was trying to tell him.

sitting at both sides of the woman were

two kids, one to each hip. they laid over her lap and nestled into the warmth of their assumed mother, sleeping just as soundly as she was. upon closer look, micheal could see they had fallen asleep while reading a story book. a version of red riding hood, warning of wolves in the forest, and intruders like him thirsting for blood.

he was a villain. he had been well aware of that fact for a long time. he had abandoned his own virtues, deciding to find comfort in unforgivable sins, but seeing such a sight made him feel… dirty. it wasn’t common for him to be so self-aware. he usually targeted people that could be justified, a bully or a selfish landlord, but this. he could feel hell nipping at his heels.

micheal stared down at them. if one could see through the holes in his mask, they would see the intense focus in his gaze. he tried to untangle the knots that had developed in his stomach. regret, apprehension, the need to retreat- they swirled around inside of him and made him step back towards the middle of the room. doing this only gave him a greater view of the home. toys strewn about the floor, a child sized table littered with photos of the kids and this mother, and the same sort of balls from outside sitting in a heap near the same window he looked through. he should’ve known when he’d seen the yard there were kids here, he should’ve listened to his own intuition, but…

he shook his head. micheal had standards. he had needs, sure, but somewhere deep inside him there were morals, buried under years and years of neglect. he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t raise a blade to these people. yet he still felt the need to disturb, to bring some fear. maybe… maybe he could.

he went over to where they all lay, resembling the corpses he had seen many a time before, and picked up the two children. he was gentle, and they seemed to nestle into him, most likely mistaking him for their mother. she stirred only for a moment, but settled relaxed against the couch. he then got to work.

in the morning, when you were awoken by the birds singing sweet tunes, and the sun shining on your face, you found yourself on your couch. it wasn’t rare that you’d fall asleep in your living room, but this felt different. you recalled the night before, and how your children had been their with you, and it made you pat the seats beside you.

they weren’t there.

for a moment you panicked, eyes widening as you sat up and began scanning the room. it had been cleaned. toys were put away carefully in their bins, pictures had been pinned to their proper cork boards, snacks had been swept off the rug- this was not how this room had been left. you knew the kids wouldn’t have cleaned it either, not without a bit of a fight. it filled you with dread. someone had been inside, and had decided to… clean? such a kind action, and yet you were filled with unease. your home had still been entered, after all.

you pushed yourself up from the couch, beginning to look around the home, calling out for the kids. the more you called without answer, the more your chest tightened. room after room you checked, until you finally shoved your way into their bedroom, and-

there they were. they were still asleep, blankets tucked tight to their chins and peace on their faces. you made sure they were breathing and all in one piece, before sitting down on the edge of a bed. your heart was still racing, the pounding filling your ears.

you had to take a moment to breathe, to reassure yourself that it was all alright. maybe you had done this and didn’t remember. you had been so exhausted yesterday. it was a weekend, and the children had been particularly energetic. maybe, in your own half-asleep state, you had put them to bed and cleaned up the living room.

you insisted that must’ve been it, nodding your head and looking up to the window.

it was open.

you stood up quick, going over to it and leaning outside over the sill. you never left their window open, as one of the children had believed there to be fairies that would whisk them away. no, no you wouldn’t forget such a thing. you couldn’t have.

you looked outside, seeing nothing in the horizon. it seemed safe. you leaned back into the room, shutting the window tight and closing the curtains.

micheal watched from the tree line.

#micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #ask

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sphireath-wisp · 9 months

Text

#A Night at the Symphony

Synopsis: Laufey songs + Blue lock Characters + love stories = days of me violently sobbing (The pronouns in the lyrics do not matter, reader is still gender neutral and please tell me if I accidentally assign reader with any pronouns other than they/them)

Warnings: Laufey's heartwrenching songs that I love with my whole heart, Kaiser and reader are aged up in his section and old enough to drink alcohol, not proofread, weird interchanging grammar,

Notes: For my friend, @dewwberry. Writing for all the red flags today 💪💪💪

Featuring: Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi x GN! reader

Michael Kaiser + "Like the Movies"

"Maybe one day I'll fall, in a bookstore, into the arms of a guy."

"Thank you," was all you could mutter out, a coy smile plastered on your face as the blonde man reached for a book on a shelf too high for you to even tiptoe to. He towers over you, his ridiculously handsome face adorned with an amused smirk.

Before he passes it to you, his blue eyes scan the cover of the book, taking his own sweet time browsing through the pages. You snap out of reality when you hear the sudden close of the book in his hands, a chuckle - most likely at you

"My bad," You apologize for staring, a relieved sigh escaping you when he nods. "It's alright," He pushes up his glasses when it slides down the bridge of his nose, grabbing another copy of the book he had passed to you. "At least I now know what I'll be reading tonight."

You hugged the book to your chest, hoping that you were the only one who could hear the loud drums of your heartbeat against your ribs. "I'll see you around?"

Pursing your lips, you nodded, ecstatically returning the favor when he waved bye to you. You continued to observe his proud strides as he walked off, only noticing the dopey smile on your face when you look at your reflection through the glass-paned windows.

"Huh?" You mumble after snapping out of your daydream, noticing a small card wedged in the middle of the book. Examining it, you widen your eyes when you see a phone number and name written on it, "Michael Kaiser?"

"We'll sneak into bars and gaze at the stars, Surrounded by fireflies."

Before you knew it, you were texting him constantly, returning to that same bookstore every week or so to meet up. As more time went on, you found yourself searching for every chance to meet up with him, whether it was at the movies or a bar. Luckily for you, Kaiser is someone who loves his champagne.

"Time passes by too quickly when I'm with you," Kaiser hears you drunkenly admit, taking a small sip of the champagne he had so generously bought for you. He hums in response, nonchalant as usual. For a moment, Kaiser feels like this bar is too stuffy - the irritatingly loud music preventing Kaiser from hearing your voice.

He rests his chin on his hand, half-heartedly - at first - listening to you ramble about whatever you had to get off your chest. "I'm such a hopeless romantic honestly." Kaiser's ears perk up.

"I've read too many romantic books, they're all raising my standards. It's no wonder I've had no luck - no one's ever good enough." You sigh and you finish another glass of champagne, not even realizing how bad the hangover after this will be for you. He doesn't say anything, his fingers reaching to brush those strands of your hair that have been bothering him. "I wanna love like I've seen in the movies." He pauses just before his fingers graze against your cheek.

"That's why I'll never fall in love." You lie to both yourself and him.

"Oh, I'd like to sleep in till two on a Sunday And listen to the bluebirds sigh."

Groggily dragging your feet out of bed, you blink when you see the blonde man leaning against the door frame. "Kaiser?" You rub your eyes again, the shock striking you all of a sudden when you find yourself in an unfamiliar room.

"I brought you back to my place. You had passed out before I could ask you where your place was." You hold your head in your hands, trying to recall the events of last night in vain. "You were clinging to me all night, you know?" Kaiser chuckles when your face contorts into embarrassment, chiding him for teasing you.

Reading you like an open book, he takes you by the hand - almost hurriedly - and forces you to sit back on the bed. "I'll go buy you some medicine to help with that headache." and so he turns his back to you, gently creaking the door shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You spot a small card - identical to the one that was wedged between the pages of the book before - on the bedside table, a glass with about 3/4 of it filled with water holding the card down and preventing it from flying with the wind.

"So old-fashioned." you thought, though you had to admit you did not mind one bit.

"'Take better care of yourself, idiot.'" You scoff lightly after reading the note out loud, rolling your eyes. "Wow, well, that's a very nice thing to say." You sarcastically whip back out of pure instinct - if Kaiser was here, he'd definitely be snapping another annoyingly smart retort back at you. You toss the note aside on the table, that headache killing any energy or willpower you had in your system.

Eyes wandering around the room, you spot a myriad of items - a bookshelf neatly arranged in alphabetical order (that book both you and Kaiser were reading slightly sticking out of the shelf), a comfortable rug that you could probably fall asleep in, and a trash bin filled to the brim with crumpled pieces of paper.

"Strange, why is there only paper in here?" Your curiosity took over and, for better or worse, you straighten out a few of the papers and read their contents, lightly skimming through them on the floor. You could tell Kaiser wrote this just by the handwriting.

'Don't worry about anything, rest up for the whole day. I'll take care of you.' said one note.

'I care about you more than you think, don't ever get that drunk in front of another man.-' the last part was just scribbled off as if the writer wasn't sure how to phrase his words.

You stop, rubbing your eyes as you pull out a torn-off piece of paper.

'I've fallen for you too - just like the movies.'

"Get soaked in the rain and smile through the pain, Slow dance under stormy skies."

It's been a few days since you left Kaiser's place. As much as your heart ached to be with him, you had no idea what to do honestly when you found that piece of a once-complete letter. You didn't know what to do when it boiled down to love despite being a connoisseur in romantic movies or books.

In the end, you were clueless and utterly hopeless, dragging your feet back to that same bookstore.

You wandered inside, that once-comforting almond smell of books making your mind think back to the first time you met him. Yet, you didn't see him at all, no matter which corner you turned. Well, it's not as if you both agreed to meet up today - why would he be here? Though, you always did believe Kaiser had some kind of telepathic power when it came to you.

Defeated, you exited the bookstore just to notice a familiar figure sitting on a bench, staring off into the pouring rain. That blonde hair with blue streaks, that confident posture, of course, it's Kaiser. A mix of emotions stirs in you, but your body reacts on its own accord, feet marching confidently in his direction. Heart pounding. Head woozy. That same lovestruck smile on your face.

"Didn't bring an umbrella?" You peeked over his shoulder, startling him for a second. Kaiser sighs in relief when he registers that it's just you, nodding. He sits up, spine straightening when he notices the umbrella you have in your hand. "You'll have to hold it though, you're taller than me."

"Alright, alright." Kaiser opens the umbrella and covers both of you with it, that usual smug grin on his face - but something feels different this time. You feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Stay close or else you'll get soaked." His grip on your waist tightens.

"It's no wonder I've had no luck, no one's ever good enough. I want a love like I've seen in the movies. That's why I'll never fall in love."

"You're such an idiot, actually." You reply to his last joke, your chest bubbling as you try to contain your laughter - in vain. Kaiser dramatically scoffs, making that 'tch' sound and shaking his head."

"Says the one who forced me to take care of them because they were too drunk to tell me where they lived." You jab him back lightly in response. "For your info, I did not force you. You were the one who willingly took care of me."

"I willingly took care of you because I'm just that good of a person!" Kaiser tilted the umbrella to your side, ignoring how his shoulder was getting drenched in the rain. He masks his amusement with a frown when you sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat." You roll your eyes despite that stupidly cheerful smile on your face. "Hmph, you sound very doubtful of me." Kaiser retorts, elbowing you, "Then, tell me, know-it-all. Why do you think I willingly brought you back to my place that night?"

You place a hand on your chin, thinking for a moment. A brilliant idea hits you and you put on your best smile, deciding to reply with a cheesy quote from the book both you and Kaiser read, "Because you love me."

He recognized that cliché quote without any trouble, almost instantly facepalmed, and burst out laughing. Something about you made him feel a little more alive, a little more complete. Was it just him, or did every morning seem a little easier to get through ever since he met you?

"You know..." Kaiser lowers his voice, the atmosphere changing.

"That night when you were drunk, while you did not tell me where you lived, you did confess to me something else." Kaiser notices that the rain had gradually stopped as he spoke, observing your once hyper movements slow down. "You told me you fell in love with me."

You halt dead in your tracks, your cheeks heating up. A swarm of butterflies rush through your body and even though you parted your lips, you didn't say anything. He stopped in front of you, the distance between you and him being heartstoppingly close. "I never got to tell you my response to your confession, so..."

Kaiser's wrist slowly turned, tilting the umbrella at an angle that blocked anyone's view of this precious moment - seeing your face in such a flustered state is a luxury that Kaiser doesn't want to share. You feel a hand cup your cheek too gently, treating your skin like the most precious of porcelain. A more genuine, soft grin adorned the man you fell in love with as he slowly pulled you closer, stealing away your first kiss.

"Yes (Name), I do love you. I'll bring you back to my place and take care of you whenever you need me to."

Sae Itoshi + "Beautiful Stranger"

"Beautiful stranger sitting right there, Looked up at me... Looked back for a second, didn't want to be rude. I tend to fall in love on the tube."

You unintentionally whispered a 'wow', your mouth left agape at the sight of a lean young man boarding the train. Reddish-brown hair that he unconsciously brushes his hand through, slim green eyes that make him look so unapproachable, a cold and aloof gaze - yet you felt nothing but warmth in your chest.

He sat across from you, hands tucking themselves comfortably in his pocket after zipping up his jacket. He places his bag on the floor, clamping it in place between his legs.

You notice him sigh, seemingly tired from... whatever he was doing before. His gaze drifts around, locking eye contact with you for a short moment and you felt your body tense up.

You snap your head in the other direction, your eyes still wanting to look back, maybe even wave if you could muster up the courage. Covering the lower half of your face with your hand, you muffle your gasp and pray that he didn't notice you.

You take a deep breath. No way you would fall in love with some stranger you just met, right? From the corner of your eye, you glimpse at him and realize he isn't looking back.

Maybe, hopefully, he didn't catch you? You slowly turn your head back forward, trying to calm your beating heart and that annoyingly imaginative mind of yours.

Greedily, you steal another glance at him, looking at him from head to toe multiple times. It was as if you couldn't get enough of him.

"Beautiful stranger sitting right there, Reading the newspaper, stuck to his chair. I swore that he smiled and I felt my heart drop. Heard the doors open, came to my stop."

You observed him as he fished his phone out of his pockets. He leaned back, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. You scratched the back of your neck and immediately turned your head when he looked up from his phone, pursing your lips.

While you couldn't see his face properly, you swore that there was a small smile on his face. Getting up from your seat, you prepared to leave and waited for the doors to open.

For the first time in forever, you didn't want to reach home this early though the comfort of your bed was more than appealing. Some part of you still wanted to linger around. Your head turns back to that same stranger, still staring at his phone. The sound of the door opening echoed, it was your cue to leave.

Though you weren't hallucinating - he was smiling.

"Beautiful stranger, catching my stare. It's fate we collided right then back there"

You boarded the same bus on your way to work and back, despite it taking longer than your usual route, hope that you'll see that same beautiful stranger dwelling in the deepest part of your heart. Just like a loop of last night, you awaited his arrival patiently.

"Oh!" You mumble under your breath, gaze following his figure just like his shadow would the moment you recognized that unforgettable face. He looks around the bus, almost as if he was searching for something, and you swore you saw him stare at you for a slight second before sitting down across from you.

Just like that, boarding that exact bus became routine for you, and your mornings were brightened by his presence. Your innocent little crush escalated and bloomed into something more, and for a second, you longed for him more.

You wondered how his voice sounded when speaking to you instead of on a call with someone else, you fantasized about how his hand would feel in yours, how warm his embrace probably is, how lovely it must be to be that special someone in his life.

No, this has to be infatuation... right?

"I wonder if he felt the same thing too. Innocent crush on the morning commute."

Another unremarkable morning, you anticipated the same cycle to repeat itself. He'll board the train, glance around, then sit across from you.

Or so you thought. That night, he seemed particularly exhausted, his demeanor was completely different in the morning. His posture was a bit slouched, occasionally yawning and rubbing his eyes. You frowned, worry in your eyes as you clutched the phone in your hand.

As usual, he looked around with that same detached expression. However, this time, despite all of the empty seats around, he sat next to you. Widening your eyes, you immediately turned your head away, more than reluctant to let him see that rosy glow - that you've noticed is a side effect that happens when you think of him - on your cheeks.

You leaned back in your seat, wanting to get a better look at him. He had his arms crossed, reddish-brown hair messy, and eyes weary. He dipped his chin, seemingly looking down at his lap before closing his eyes. Sooner or later, you could hear the soft murmurs and snores from him.

As the train came to a sudden halt, the impact caused his head to land on your left shoulder, using it as a pillow. Cautiously, you adjusted your position and took off your left earphone so it wouldn't disturb him in his sleep. All the passengers must have been jumping to conclusions when they gave you both warm smiles and nods of encouragement, what could they possibly be thinking about?

Though, no matter how you deny it, that enamored smile on your face must have fueled whatever assumptions they were making of the both of you. When you turned to check on him, you noticed something peculiar.

Was he always smiling like that at first?

"What if I would've stayed on the train? Dared to stand up and ask for his name? Maybe we would have exchanged a few words, A fairytale moment could have occurred."

While you dreamed that this moment could last forever, you noticed that you would be reaching your stop soon, and - no matter how tempting the idea of missing a few stops was - you were left with no other option than to shake him awake.

"Hey... hey?" He must be a light sleeper because he woke up pretty quickly with a few gentle tugs. Why didn't he wake up when the train suddenly stopped then... Was he pretending?

You giggle at him, insisting that it was okay when he apologized to you, even lowering his head a little. It felt like something had sparked between the both of you through that short interaction, something that sent your heart into overdrive. From the subtle softening of his gaze to how his shoulders dropped in relief, you could only wonder if you were the cause of such dismissive reactions.

"Oh... this is my stop." Disappointment laces your words, your heart sinking.

With a scowl on your face, you approached the train doors. You give him one last sorrowful look, wishing that sweet, surreal moment wasn't so short. You met his gaze, locking eye contact as you felt the train slow down.

You lifted your hand to wave goodbye, but you clench your fist and hesitate, hurriedly dropping your hand back down right after. Your fingernails dig deeper into the flesh of your palm, that crazy part of you scolding you for missing such a wonderful opportunity. Any rational, logical sense left in you supported what you did, it did save you from any embarrassment or rejection.

Turning your back to him, you solemnly take a small step closer to the exit once the train doors open.

"Wait," You feel fingers envelop your forearm, preventing you from entirely leaving the train. Surprise coursed its way through your veins when you realized it was your beautiful stranger holding you by the arm, a rosy glow that you were only familiar seeing yourself with adorning his cheeks. "I'll walk you home."

(Bonus: After spending more time with Sae, he'll purposefully save a seat on the train for you, placing his bag there and patiently waiting for you. Even when you text him that you won't be showing up to work, he still does it out of pure habit unless the train is really crowded or someone asks.)

Rin Itoshi + "Valentine"

"I've rejected affection for years and years. Now, I have it, and, damn it, it's kind of weird."

"Rin, Rin, what does this word mean?" Your fingers pointed at a phrase on the letter you found on your table. You knew basic phrases in Japanese and barely got through school with that knowledge. Thus, Rin was naturally assigned to be your personal translator throughout the day since he was fluent in English and was conveniently in your class. And, would you look at that, he sits next to you as well.

You watch him eye the letter and his eyebrows shoot up. He snatches the letter from your grasp, practically crumpling between his index and thumb fingers. The smell of the perfume - cheap, for sure - wafts through the air up his nose and he clogs it. Rin was always the type of person to have a disdain for well, most things, but whatever vexed him was more than just the glittery design.

"Ignore it," He expects you to oblige, giving the letter a piercing, demeaning glare. "It's nothing important."

"At least tell me how to pronounce it!" You pout, crossing your arms, "I have to learn Japanese, or else I'll forever be stuck with a grumpy, moody translator." You didn't mind the idea so much actually, but you continued to act like you did.

"I'm not an idiot, (Name). You'll just search up the meaning." He drapes an arm over the top of his chair, jaw resting on his knuckles. "Even if I promise? Swear to keep my word and not search it up?" You persist, probing into why he seemed so repulsed by some scrap of paper.

"Even if you promise," Rin repeats after you, seemingly not budging an inch. You audibly sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "Won't you tell me? Come on, it can't be that bad." Your knee swerves to the side, jabbing his leg from under the table. "I have a right to know, the letter was meant for me after all."

Logically, Rin wouldn't listen. No, he shouldn't. If wishes to keep his pride, he shouldn't give in to your request. From adopting the traits of his older brother, from an early age, he weaved and molded himself to be rational at every step. Yet, somehow, every bone in his body wants to trust and believes you.

"It doesn't matter anyway," or so he would rationalize his actions, fingers pointing at the words on the letter. Your eyes trail after his finger, listening intently.

"あいしてる.(Ai-shi-teru)" He lowers his voice suddenly, almost into a whisper as if he didn't want anyone else to overhear him. You echo after him and for a moment, you could've sworn that the tip of his ears grew red, "あいしてる."

"He tells me I'm pretty, Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too. Can I say that? Don't have a clue."

Rin's group of friends people he tolerates happen to sit near your table during lunchtime and, occasionally, your friends would catch the short glimpses you exchange with him.

You feel a not-so-subtle kick from under the table and you retaliate, returning the favor as you chide your friends. Judging by their smirks, you could tell you were in for a disaster. Seems like they caught you red-handed.

As you are forced to profusely deny anything they say, their teasing reaches Rin's ears.

"You're all red! You definitely have a crush on him!" One of your friends exclaimed, teasing you. You felt like melting as you covered your ears in a weak attempt to block out their words. "Oh, shut up! You're so loud."

Rin glances at you from the corner of his eye and you could feel the shivers crawling up your spine, clawing their way around your body. You could only pray he didn't hear anything as you chewed on your food. You couldn't swallow the food down, fidgeting with your hands under the table while stuttering out poor excuses to change the topic.

At first, he planned to save you the embarrassment and pretend to be oblivious. It'd cause him less trouble anyway - just look away and continue eating, engraving the memory in his mind. Having said that, he didn't know what made him so fond of that flustered expression on your face.

"Lukewarm," He utters under his breath - directed to your friends and, for the first time in a while, himself. He looks away, pulling out his phone to text you with a scowl on his face.

You see your phone buzz on the table and the notification, much to your dismay, displayed Rin's message to you for all your friends to see.

"u have a nice smile" and you felt like your eyes were playing tricks on you. You swiped your phone off the table, pressing the screen against your chest and close to your racing heart. Your friends all screamed and cheered in unison, all you wanted to do right now is scream into a pillow and curl into a ball.

You took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts, shakily checking your phone again. Slowly, your gaze returned back to him, scrutinizing the way the ends of his lips curl upwards.

"Ty, u too <3" You text him back.

"With every passing moment, I surprise myself. I'm scared of flies, I'm scared of guys- Someone, please, help! 'Cause I think I've fallen in love this time."

All of a sudden, it's hard to maintain eye contact like the both of you used to. Every time you both chat, that moment when the both of you coincidentally lock eye contact releases swarms of butterflies.

All of a sudden, it's routine to walk home together. When one of you has the misfortune of needing to stay back after class, the other has no qualms or complaints about waiting. If one of you forgets something like homework, the other remembers. It's like you both complete each other, two peas in a pod.

All of a sudden, he's the one carrying your things for you, insisting it's all lightweight and not a problem after hearing you complain about your back aching.

All of a sudden, you both of whispering answers to each other whenever the teacher calls one of you out.

All of a sudden, you love learning Japanese. You love how he's somewhat patient with you - or at least he tries his best to. He'll sigh when he has to repeat himself, but that beaming grin plastered on your face when you learn something new is one of the best rewards for him - better than the money you continue to pay him for the tutoring despite how he refuses to take it.

'Expect the unexpected,' but there's no way you could have predicted this. Everything happened so fast, but you didn't want things to slow down either.

"I've lost all control of my heartbeat now, Got caught in a romance with him somehow. I still feel a shock through every bone When I hear an "I love you", 'Cause now I've got someone to lose."

He couldn't tell whether it was a blessing or curse to sit next to you. Everything you did has this selcouth effect on him, his mind riddled with that unusually flawless image of you, turning winter into spring in a matter of seconds. Now that he thinks about it, did you ever have any flaws?

From flowers to breathtaking sunsets, his heart had been plagued with this confusing, unfamiliar feeling because everything reminded him of you. It was too intense to forget about with time, too new to be hatred, and too extraordinary to let go of.

You're just like the best goal he ever scored, the best gift he's ever received, the best movie he's ever seen. You're so refreshing, new, but at the very same time comforting like his mom's cooking or a nostalgic video game. You're his biggest weakness and the best thing that ever happened to him all at once.

He's heard of love. How 2-dimensional and sappy it is, how people crave and want it so desperately. He never did understand it. However, now, faced with no choice but to confront his feelings, he's left dumbfounded by just how puzzling and deep they are.

...It's alright if he thinks with his heart, just this one time, right?

"The first one to ever like me back. I'm seconds away from a heart attack. How the hell did I fall in love this time? And honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine. I blinked and suddenly, I had a Valentine."

February 13, 11:39 p.m. Rin walks into the convenience store, hands tucked comfortably into his pockets as he walks in, a small bag hanging from his shoulder. He sighs when he spots you running up to him, waving at him.

"Why'd you call me so late to come here? You made it sound like you were going to die or something."

"I just... felt like seeing you." You innocently chirp, grabbing some chips that both you and Rin would share later on, good thing you knew his favorite flavor beforehand. "Is that a bad reason?"

Rin narrows his eyes before another sigh escapes him - which you assume means 'yes'. "Why'd you come?" You ask back. Knowing Rin, he should have expected a silly reason like that coming from you.

"I wanted to make sure you were safe. Going out this late is dangerously close to a stupid idea." You chuckle at how logical his answer is, "So, you're saying that you don't mind doing something stupid so I could be safe?"

You feel a sudden glare on you and you giggle. "Okay, okay, I won't tease you." Done choosing your snacks, you go to pay at the counter.

11:47. You exit the store with Rin following behind, holding the plastic bag filled with the snacks you hand-picked. Sitting down on a bench in a nearby park, both you and Rin open up the snacks and chat to pass the time.

"11:58," you whisper under your breath after checking the time on your phone, "almost time."

"Rin," Rin glances at you, tilting his head to meet your eyes when you call out his name, your tone mellow. "How many Valentine's Day gifts did you receive last year?"

He leans back on the chair, the mention of Valentine's Day causing him to glance elsewhere. "Didn't count, I rejected all of them." His hand reaches into his bag, fingers grabbing onto the box of chocolates he had impulsively bought for you, but he doesn't dare take them out.

"Do you have a Valentine this year?" You take a deep breath before asking. He shakes his head, much to your relief. "You?" Rin questions and you shake your head.

"I don't really know how to ask this," you chuckle, an attempt to lighten up the mood as you shift closer to him. "But..."

"Will you be my Valentine?" You ask, staring up at the moon, miraculously able to blurt out the words without stuttering. The silence after that kills you as you hope for a favorable response, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

Rin carefully places the box of chocolates on your lap, hand lingering on your thigh for a moment. The box of chocolates was red and rectangular, you could smell a slight scent of vanilla, all tied together with a ribbon. Attached to it was a small card that wrote, "あいしてる." in messy handwriting - he was never good at calligraphy.

"Aishiteru," you read aloud, "You never did tell me what it meant." Rin felt something stuck in his throat, only replying to you with a soft 'mm'. You ignore his refusal to tell you, but you could kind of guess the meaning now that he used it.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you sigh in content.

February 14, 12:00. "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" You whisper to him, sliding your hand into his pocket as this warmth bursts from your chest. You feel his hand pull yours deeper into his pocket, intertwining fingers. "Yeah, yeah it is."

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