#of ''mike would absolutely never be thinking this'' or ''he absolutely for sure feels this way''
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I'm also very excited that we'll be getting the episode 8 script, but the thing that I personally want to see so so bad is the episode 3 script. like, it's got the margaritaville fight, which is one of the only scenes with mike in s4 where will is not present, and therefore it's not his pov. it's either el or mike's pov, which means it might have more insight to mike's behavior. I NEED to see it
#stranger things#byler#mike wheeler#mike wheeler i know what you are#if it's mike's pov it definitely has insight to his behavior#and then if it's el's pov while she also probably doesn't know why mike is acting the way he is#she probably still has a clearer view on mike's actions than will does??#bc will is VERY unreliable narrator this season he sees el and mike as nothing but in love bc he doesn't think that they could be unhappy#and he doesn't see mike acting kinda gay bc he can't even entertain the possibility that mike would like him back#el also doesn't really know what mike is doing or why#but her interpretation of his emotions and actions in that scene might be clearer than Will's would be#bc she's coming to realize maybe he doesn't lover her the way she wants and she's not going to have such a rigid idea#of ''mike would absolutely never be thinking this'' or ''he absolutely for sure feels this way''#does that make sense?
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“Whore.”
You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.
They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.
It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.
You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.
The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.
First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.
Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.
Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.
You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.
Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s a modicum better than wanting you dead.
You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.
You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.
You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist was snapped in half a few seconds later.
Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.
After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.
“Can I go outside?”
You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.
“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”
You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.
“Alright.”
“What?”
“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”
You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.
The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.
“Your tea, mistress.”
Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.
It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.
“Whore.”
Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.
Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.
That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.
Shit.
You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.
Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.
You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.
“[Name].”
Shit. Shit!
He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.
“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.
“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?
He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.
“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”
Oh.
“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.
He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.
You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.
You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.
The kiss ends soon after it begins.
“Get some rest. You look bad.”
You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.
The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.
Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.
The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.
It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.
You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.
“Are you awake?”
You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.
Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”
Something wet hits the bed.
“2:57 AM.”
Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.
“Oh. Okay.”
Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“… Yes.”
Another.
You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”
“I don’t think so.”
Another drip, this time it hits your arm.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.
“No.”
The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all to familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.
“How long were the help bothering you?”
“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.
“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”
A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.
“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.
Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.
“Go to sleep.”
You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.
Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.
#tw yandere#tw.yandere#yandere#yanderecore#yandere illumi zoldyck#yandere illumi x reader#yandere illumi#yandere hxh#yandere hxh x reader#tw implied noncon#implied noncon#tw noncon#tw vomit#tw vomit mention#tw angst#tw pregnancy mention#tw pregnancy
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Hi, I had an idea for mike schmidt. Imagine Mike is doing No Nut November.
Streak — Mike Schmidt x reader
a/n: OMG this is such a good idea ty for the request. I will definitely need to write more on this, maybe some blurbs or even this idea for other characters lmk what u guys think!!
You and Mike lay in bed on the night of halloween, cuddled up next to each other after multiple rounds of intense sex.
“guess we can’t do this for a month then?”
“you know how it is in November honey, gotta keep the streak up”
Mike liked to boast about his numerous year streak of lasting through No Nut November. You liked to laugh merely at the fact that he had this streak because he never had a girlfriend until he met you. He was a virgin before that, which you knew after your first night of intimacy lasting around 2 minutes with lots of laughs.
This year would be the first No Nut November where he actually had a girlfriend…and you were gonna make sure he broke that ‘streak’.
On November 1st Mike woke up and saw you get out of bed completely bare walking around to get your things for a shower. You slowly bent over reaching for clothes that flew from last nights frantic events, smirking as you heard a loud groan come from behind you. The large lump under the thin covers said all it needed to about how easy this plan was going to be.
During breakfast you cooked him some pancakes wearing nothing but some lace panties and an apron. Leaning over his shoulder you place the food on his plate, landing soft kisses along his neck while your breast pushed against his back.
“god you’re killing me over here baby, is this cause of my streak? ..come on you know i’m gonna do this”
‘not for long’ you thought.
It been 3 days since the 1st of November and after a long day at work Mike returns home ready for a night of relaxation, walking through the door he’s shocked at the sight of you. Lounging on the couch in his favourite lingerie a simple silk robe covering you.
you greet him at the door guiding him to the dining table where a whole meal has been cooked, but Mikes not hungry for food anymore. His eyes darken as you start piling his plate with food, the movements loosening the robes knot, revealing all your glory hidden underneath.
Abruptly pushing his chair back Mike grabs your hips pulling you down to straddle his thigh. His lips press hard against your own, his tongue entering and fighting a losing battle with yours as he dominates you. He leaves kisses down you neck roughly marking and nipping at the tops of your breast. “fuck this challenge” he growls against your skin sliding your robe off and unclipping your bra. He goes absolutely feral practically mauling your breast, his mouth is everywhere and his tongue soothes the stings after he bites at your nipples. moaning at the sensations you grind your hot core against his thigh. you moan into his mouth as his hands guide your hips to rutt on his thigh. “mm yeah baby just like that, fuck make a mess” looking down at where your core meets Mikes thigh you can already see the large wet spot staining his pants. Your panties are absolutely soaked and ruined and the stimulation of his thigh tensing against your clit has you just about ready to come.
“i’m gonna come omg yes yes”
you’re too overwhelmed to even moan as an orgasm crashes through you, leaving you panting and slumped against Mike. He carries you to the room laying you face up on the bed and stripping himself of his clothes. you watch as he slips his boxers down, his thick cock slapping against his happy trail, the tip is red and a vein that runs through the entirety of his dick is pulsing. you use your arms for support after recovering from your orgasm as Mike stalks towards you, pushing your legs up against your shoulders. his face nears your panty covered cunt and you feel his hot breath against it as he rubs his nose across the flimsy soaked cloth. Finally he rips it in two but your too far gone to even care, especially once his mouth is on you, tongue exploring ever inch of you from the inside out. his lips wrap around your clit and he’s overall just making an absolute mess of your pussy. his spit and your arousal combined spreads across the lower half of his face and also down to your puckered hole.
Just as you’re about to near your second orgasm of the night mike gets up, flipping you over and pushing you face down into the sheets. you wiggle your hips needy for something to fill you up and that’s exactly what happens.
Mikes cock is sheathed inside of you in one swift go reaching the very depths of your pussy, you clench around him and mewl into the sheets. “fuck so fucking tight honey shit i don’t know how long i can last” you try to respond but the only sounds coming out from your mouth are moans, continuous ones that are almost comparable to an amateur pornstars. Using his hands he guides your hips back against him to meet his thrust, the tip of his cock rubbing continuously at your g-spot. suddenly he yanks you up pulling your back against his front while he drives his cock into you even harder and faster than before.
he pinches your nipples, leaving one hand there the other drops to your clit playing with it using his index and middle fingers.
“oh fuck, jesus keep going mikey please don’t stop baby.”
“so close, so fucking close.”
“come baby, with me please”
the continuous rubbing against your clit has you coming hard around his cock, your cum dripping out and down onto his balls, simultaneously Mikes warm load starts filling you up, his loud almost animalistic low groans harmonising with your higher squeals and moans. He lowers you back face down on the bed with a few more pumps and slowly removes his member, remnants of your mixed cum leaking out from your hole soiling the sheets under you, as you curl up against mike. He carries you into the bathroom and with a dazed smile you look up at him announcing, “guess you lost your streak”
~unedited~
#mike schmidt#mike schmidt smut#smut#josh hutcherson#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf smut#josh hutcherson smut#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt x reader
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I've seen a couple of people complaining that the Captain didn't get a Coming Out Scene so that means it's Bad Rep, and I think they're missing the point a bit.
Like, sure, it would have been nice to see him finally come out but also, he doesn't have to? Personally I think it's amazing that ThemThere managed to create a character who isn't openly gay but is so obviously gay that we all just know without him having to say it. It's clear that they put a lot of thought and care into all the signs - the way he looks at the guys he has crushes on, the little offhand comments about Mike making a very fine soldier or the builder being handsome, the references to queer culture (Dorothy, Elton John, Cole Porter etc). They didn't half-ass this. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they were careful and subtle about it.
Also, we know the Captain's personality by now, right? He only talks openly about personal matters when he feels it's absolutely necessary, like when he's explaining about the bomb in "Redding Weddy" and explaining how he died in "Carpe Diem", and he doesn't seem particularly comfortable in either of these instances. He was alive in a time when he either wasn't allowed or didn't feel that he could be open about who he was, and seeing as he's sort of stuck in that time, what with him still acting like the war's continuing, he's obviously still heavily repressed. And it's in character. It makes sense for him to still be closeted. And of course, throughout the show he does gradually learn to relax and open up a bit, but he's not a fan of change anyway so it also makes sense that it takes a while for him to do that. As shown in "Gone Gone" after Mary moves on, he'd rather keep himself busy than talk about feelings.
And this is more a personal preference here, but I really really love seeing a gay character who isn't out. Now this doesn't mean I don't like openly gay characters, I love them too. But we see quite a lot of them, and it's just nice to have something a bit different. The Captain means so much to me as representation because while he's not openly gay, it's still very clear that he is gay. He's not a queerbait character, because they haven't hinted that he's gay and then revealed that he's actually straight. They've purposefully made the Captain gay, and there's barely any ambiguity, so even though he never says, "I'm gay," you'd have to be a fool to think he's anything but.
Queer people don't suddenly become queer when they come out. Just saying the words, "I'm gay," doesn't make someone gay. Being gay makes someone gay. That's it.
And the Captain is gay. That's it.
#bbc ghosts#the captain#queer representation#queer rep in media#can confirm that coming out isn't what makes you gay#because several people at school who i've never spoken to#all somehow know i'm gay. just from like. looking at me#and this has happened to other queer students too btw#so if a bunch of teenage boys can tell that their classmate is a “bender” just by looking at them#you can accept that the captain is gay without him having to spell it out to you
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Pumpkin Carving (A Halloween One Shot)
Pumpkin carving and a sleepover. An excuse for everyone to gather together on Halloween now that the Party has decided they're too old to trick-or-treat.
A pumpkin carving station has been set up in the Harrington's giant three car garage. Steve did debate setting it all up in the yard, less cleanup of the pumpkin insides that way, but it was pretty chilly, and Steve wasn't sure how long they'd all take to do the actual carving.
Does pumpkin carving take long?
Steve's never carved a pumpkin so he wouldn't know. There is no universe in which his mother would have allowed a pumpkin in her house, much less under the circumstance of then cutting it open and freeing it of its insides. While Steve has never participated in the act of carving a pumpkin, he knows how it goes. Hypothetically.
He'd needed to know enough to gather all the supplies after all, so a quick call to Robin (along with some gentle teasing and mocking) and he was set.
Eddie arrives first, having been volunteered to go get the pumpkins from the patch. It's not that Steve is scared of the pumpkin patch, or anything, it's just that Eddie's van would be better for transporting them.
Steve tried to offer to unload them, insisting it was only fair since Eddie had to load them, but Eddie just rolls his eyes and gets to work. It's not that pumpkins are extra heavy, but they aren't exactly light. And Steve knows that Eddie thinks Steve doesn't want his help because of how long it took Eddie to heal, but that's not the reason. Steve just...
Steve's just drawn to watching instead of helping when Eddie grabs a pumpkin under each arm, muscles flexing as he tightens his hold enough to keep them trapped between his arms and his sides and now Steve's left wishing, wistfully and not for the first time, that it was his thighs Eddie was wrapping those arms around. That it was him Eddie was hoisting up, perhaps holding against a wall and-
"Am I going to do all the loading and unloading?" Eddie bursts his thoughts by knocking their shoulders together as he passes by, already on his second round of pumpkin unloading.
"What, no, sorry," Steve turns to grab two pumpkins of his own. It's quick work with the two of them, then, to unload, and a short wait for everyone to start showing up.
Some biked, others dropped off by parents. Steve walks out to each car to chat and confirm that yes, of course they can stay the night; they won't be a bother and I'll keep them out of trouble.
Soon enough the garage is full of people, pumpkins, and noise. Lucas and Max have migrated to the corner of the garage closest to the door leading inside to whisper together as Lucas guts two pumpkins while Max describes what she wants on hers. Will and Mike have also set themselves apart to work out whatever it is they plan to carve on their own pumpkins. Dustin, El, Erica, and Eddie have plopped down in the center and just got to work. They aren't coordinating their pumpkins like the couples seem to be doing. They do seem to be taking it the most serious, though, with the absolute silence from all of them, concentration faces fully on.
Steve is off on his own, too. He's taken a seat about five feet from Eddie but he's the furthest from the door. He frowns down at his pumpkin, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He's not sure how to start. What to do.
He looks up from his pumpkin and over to Eddie. He's using a knife to saw around the stem of the pumpkin. Which, duh. Steve should have put that together. There has to be some way to remove the insides easily, so removing the top made sense.
Without trying to overthink it all, Steve stabs into the top of his pumpkin and starts sawing his own circle around the top. It's. Well, it's something. He wouldn't say sawing a circle is fun but it's not tedious and soon enough his knife returns to the starting point and... Hmm. He watches as the bit he just cut around sags into his pumpkin. Eddie's didn't do that.
Steve frowns down at it for a moment before grabbing the stem and pulling the top off. His face wrinkles in disgust at the stringy clump of pumpkin insides that hang from the top and he sets that down to the side quickly. He's realizing now why everyone else chose to wear short sleeves even though it's cold outside as he looks around the garage and sees everyone shoving their hands into the pumpkin, pulling stringy, seedy, strands of pumpkin out.
With a sigh, Steve rolls a sleeve up and plunges his own hand into the holes he's made and almost instantly rips his hand back out. Ew. No. Gross! Wrong! The feeling of the strands breaking under the pressure of his hand, the slightly moist feeling of the inside, the unexpected slipperiness of the seeds, all of it sends a shiver of revulsion up Steve's spine. He makes a soft gagging noise against his own will.
"You gonna be sick?" Eddie asks almost immediately.
"Uh. Oh, yeah," Steve says as he feels his face heat with an embarrassed blush. He can see that all eyes are on him now, which adds to his embarrassment on top of realizing the question he was asked and what he answered. "Wait, I mean no. I'm not going to be sick."
Eddie looks from Steve to his pumpkin, and back up. "Don't like the feeling of pumpkin guts?"
"It was just unexpected is all," Steve defends, even as the thought of sticking his hands back into the pumpkin sends another shiver through him.
"Unexpected," Dustin repeats back. Steve tenses but nothing else follows that. He looks over and Dustin seems to be having a silent conversation with Eddie judging by the stare down.
"Maybe I am gonna be sick," Steve lies, standing quickly and fleeing the garage.
God fucking dammit. Why is he so embarrassed about this? Why is he... he's hiding the fact he's never done this before, and he doesn't know why. They aren't going to mock him for it. Well. Maybe a little, but in the same way Robin did. Tease him because they love him. They wouldn't really be making fun of him. Except maybe Mike but Steve doesn't really care about his opinion anyway. Gave up on that a while ago.
He goes to the kitchen sink on autopilot, scrubbing the gross, now dried and tacky feeling from his hand. He's in the process of drying his hands when a voice startles him.
"Hey man. You okay?"
It's Eddie. Of course, it's Eddie they would send after him.
"Yeah," he turns so his back is to the sink, leaning back against it to look at Eddie.
"You never have to scoop out a pumpkin before? Did someone else do it for you?"
If anyone else had asked, Steve would think it was condescending. Someone mockingly asking after nannies or servants who would do the gross part of pumpkin carving for the little rich kid. But it's Eddie, and he's just curious and sincere. So, Steve says, "nah, man. Just never done this before."
Eddie's browse crinkle in confusion and Steve thinks he's so fucking cute. He wants to kiss the confusion from his brow. "You've never carved a pumpkin before?"
Steve just gives a shake of his head before shrugging. He wants to cross his arms, close in on himself, but it's Eddie. He's trying to not shy away from the people he cares about. He's trying to let them take care of him, too.
(It's been a process, since the defeat of Vecna. Learning to let people care about him. He's better at it these days. Robin said so and if anyone is an expert on him, it's her. He can't always trust his own opinion to be unbiased.)
"I'll scoop out your pumpkin if you still want to give pumpkin carving a try," Eddie offers, a soft, lopsided smile on his face that Steve adores. The bats took a good chunk of his left cheek, and the scarring is heavy, the muscles non-responsive, so every smile is lopsided, but Steve loves them all.
"Okay," Steve says, offering a soft smile in return but doesn't push off the sink. Not until Eddie approaches, taking Steve's wrist and tugging him along.
No one says anything when they return to the garage, nor when Eddie blows past his own pumpkin to sit next to Steve and grab up his pumpkin. Eddie looks down at the hole Steve's carved, a calculated look on his face. It's cleared away soon enough when he smiles as wide as his scarred cheek allows before he gets to work on the pumpkin. He cleans it out thoroughly before handing it back to Steve, then crawls across the floor to retrieve his own abandoned pumpkin, rolling it across the floor as he crawls back.
"Oh, wait. Can you go get me a marker?" Eddie asks, as Steve is examining his pumpkin, trying to imagine a face to go on it.
"Yeah," Steve says, glad to have a moment more to think about the face as he fetches a marker from his father's office.
He returns to most of the kids having already finished their own pumpkins. Unsurprising, considering how much time Steve spent just thinking about carving before he even started.
"Marker," Steve offers it out after he's sat down again, close enough that his knee is touching Eddie's this time.
"Thanks," Eddie takes the marker and adjusts so more of his leg is pressing against Steve's. "So, you can freehand the face if you want, or I could draw you a face to cut out? If you want."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure," Steve says, shoving his pumpkin towards Eddie who looks delighted by Steve's answer. It doesn't take him long to draw on a face. Triangle eyes, a little rectangle nose, and a wide mouth filled with jagged teeth.
Steve and Eddie carve in quiet, while Steve basks in the warmth of Eddie's leg next to his, touching his. He's never been sure if Eddie likes him back, not enough to announce his own crush, but sometimes... There are times like this that fill him with hope.
Steve doesn't even realize they've been abandoned to the garage until Eddie finishes his pumpkin, which is three bats carved artistically into the side. Steve is impressed, and when he turns to ask if anyone else is, there isn't anyone there.
"Oh. I didn't even hear them leave."
Eddie plops the top of his pumpkin back on, which reminds Steve he needs to do the same. He reaches for his top but Eddie beats him to it, craving the gross mass of sides that was stuck to it off before handing it over it.
Steve sets the top back on the pumpkin, and it immediately drops into the pumpkin. "What. Why did it-?"
"You gotta cut the top into an odd shape or at an angle. Otherwise, that happens. But it's okay. You didn't know, and I know how to fix it. You got some toothpicks in your house?" Eddie says, assuring Steve before he even has time to overthink it.
Can Steve be any more in love with him at this point?
"What?" Eddie whispers, eyes wide and face slowly turning red.
"What?"
"You just... you, uhh. Did you not mean to say that out loud?"
"Say wha- oh God," Steve registers what he'd thought, or apparently, what he said and now he and Eddie are just staring at each other, wide-eyed and unmoving.
"I'm not going to question if you meant it," Eddie starts slowly, clearly the more brave one of the two, "just. I need to know if you mean it, like, romantically."
"I did. Do. I-" Steve can be brave, too. He can. "I do love you. Romantically."
"Holy shit. I want to pull you in and kiss you so bad but my hands are covered in pumpkin guts and-"
Steve does it for him, both hands grabbing at his face and pulling him in.
His first time carving a pumpkin ends up being fantastic, even counting the kids flooding back into the garage to scream 'finally' at them.
-
@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems
#steddie#my fic#if this were real like and eddied gone to a pumpkin patch the morning of halloween for a pumpkin he would return empty handed#but this is fanfic and he got great carving pumpkins ok. suspension of disbelief#steve is pining so hard to eddie#a lil hint of other couples up in here with the kids#mildly edited
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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA !
summary :: mike schmidt did not realize the weight of his mistake before it was too late. when he had first met you, his baby sister's beloved teacher, he couldn't imagine ever leaving you. with his aunt's demands to see her niece, however, he had no choice. now, a year later and two states over, everyday is spent suffocating on misery and memories. mike does not know how much more of this he can endure before he breaks.
word count :: 9.2k.
content warnings :: obsessive!mike, yandere!mike, fnaf movie spoilers, drugging, kidnapping, violence, stalking, & insinuations of s3x.
mike schmidt's yandere traits are . . .
obsessive, paranoid, & nervous
──── Everything is hazy.
Fuzzy. Blurry. Serenity in its sheerest form. The absolute definition of tranquility.
That April morning in Nebraska. The scent of sugar and crayons, the sounds of children playing outside, the scattered toys left on rainbow carpets. You're sat at the desk in your classroom. Warm light bleeding through the window behind you, framing you with flowering leaves and sunshine.
Across the room, Abby Schmidt sits on the floor. Her small fingers tap the glass enclosure where the class pet is. Mr. Cupcake, your iguana. Or, as you like to refer to him, your teaching assistant. His claws plunge into his food dish, copper-colored eyes scrutinizing his surroundings. Abby watches as the reptile chows on the fruit and foliage left for breakfast.
Sitting in the chair opposite your desk is Mike Schmidt. Sweat beads on his forehead, ineluctably distressed beneath your gaze. The suit he wore for this occasion juts uncomfortably into his skin. His fingers fidget with the trim of his tie. He looks at the woven basket of exotic butters sitting on your desk, wondering why he had gotten you such an aimless gift.
Mike is quiet, as usual. Austere, his permanent disposition. Despite his tireless efforts to express his thoughts to you, the words remain nestled in his throat. Conjuring any syllable in your presence is impossible.
You, however, do not have any wavering confidence. You reiterate the legal documents obligatory for Abby's complete transition to a new school. Noting how all necessities are now in your possession (albeit languidly, as Mike has been painfully trying to buy more time here), the relocation was complete. The obvious insinuation of your words, however, brings crippling dread like no other.
The last time you would ever see one another. Your goodbye.
Standing to your feet, you make your way to Abby and bend down beside her. You will miss your star student, as you have a soft spot for all the children in your classroom. In the process, you do not take notice of the way Mike instinctively reaches out to you. He's sure your touch would kill him, but it does not stop him from wishing for it. Even just a sliver of the precious rarity.
"I think Mr. Cupcake is going to miss you." Abby looks at you with wide, curious eyes.
"Don't tell the others, but you're definitely his favorite." That earns you a smile before she averts her attention back to the iguana.
When you stand, you find Mike breathing down your neck. Horrifically, as this memory still haunts him, he thought it'd be a good idea to hug you. And he practically throws his entire body weight on top of you. When you reject him by placing your hand on his chest, offering a handshake instead, fire spreads with your touch. Knowing he will never know what it feels like to hold you close to him is more excruciating than he is willing to admit.
Abby skips out of the classroom, an adorable pep in her step. At the same time, every step Mike takes from you feels like walking through an avalanche. Dragging him backward, begging to return to you. Almost as if it were his instinct, his body is trying to reject his advances of leaving you.
"Why do you always look at them like that? Like... Like they're a dinosaur or something?"
Abby's question causes Mike's brows to furrow. His feelings for you were certainly discernible. Even his young sister had taken notice of the odd behavior. Had he made it that obvious? He answers her with a weak, affirmative grunt. Too emotionally fatigued to find words to speak.
A sudden flare of biliousness deluges through his body. The hallway walls adorned with children's paintings have morphed into a colorful blur of vertigo. The floors disturbingly stretch in size, making the journey away from you all the more torturous. The suit he had tried to wear confidently sticks to his hot skin. Nausea squirms in his stomach like a dying cockroach. The room begins to spin, lights sway in his vision, and his knees fight for balance.
Mike hears his sister shriek his name before he falls to the ground.
One year later, Mike wakes from this same dream, once again.
Every night of this past year, he has dreamt the same thing. Your final goodbye and the sheer impact it took on him. It is a gut-wrenching memory, but he welcomes the echo of you with open arms. To feel your hand on his chest, see your eyes looking into his. This yearning heartache is the only thing keeping him alive.
For the umpteenth time, Mike faces the harsh, violent reality of his current life. Now, he is somewhere in Utah. Praying straight to God he'll somehow wake up back in Nebraska. Where he could see you again, where he could be happy again.
Tearing the headphones of his Walkman off, the song he had played on repeat comes to an end. He rubs his sleepy eyes. With newfound clarity, Mike shifts his gaze upwards. Taped to the ceiling is a drawing Abby drew. It's of you and him beneath a flowery altar, Mr. Cupcake as your marriage officiant. The picture aids him in his efforts to feel closer to you.
Mike doesn't even know how he survived seeing the drawing for the first time. Someone else validating his feelings for you and the realness of your nonexistent relationship was too much for him to handle. Even if it is a child doing so through a frivolous drawing.
When Mike shuffles over to place his Walkman on the bedside table, he skims over the assortment of clutter left there. Several bottles of sleeping medication had been indolently thrown onto the surface. The pills help his dreams feel more real, as though he were at your side once again.
A glance over, Mike's heart wrenches at the sight of the picture frame. Beside the mess of pills is a photograph of you he had torn from Abby's yearbook. As if you were watching over him while he slept, reaching out to him in the presence of his dreams. It's a comforting thought of his, to imagine you watching over him. Like his personal guardian angel.
Surely, he would prefer to have you physically with him, instead of just relying on these fantasies to hold him over. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of you being in his bed with him. Mike feels empty without your warm weight beside him.
Laying against his chest, huddling up to him for an early-morning cuddle before the day starts. He would ensnare his blanket around your still-sleeping form. He'd press ardent kisses to the top of your head and inhale the aromatic scent of your signature soap. Massaging his hands across your back. Caressing the balmy flesh of your body. It is the physical manifestation of nirvana brought directly into his palms.
Mike shakes the thoughts out as quickly as they come. So cheesy... What on Earth is he doing?
Although he has tossed around the idea of giving in and leaving Abby in their aunt's care, what kind of man would you think him as if he abandoned his family? And if he were to take Abby back to Nebraska, Social Services would surely hunt him down. The mere idea of being locked behind a prison cell is terrifying, but the prospect of never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.
Mike's head pounds as these thoughts haunt him. Reveries of brighter days in your presence, trepidation of being separate from you forever — this is how every morning usually begins. His dreams nestled in a nightmare. The chaos in his head brings him to where this story had begun altogether.
February. Two months before the last time he would ever see you.
Jane had demanded Abby live with her in Utah, threatening legal action in the process. Mike had no other choice but to succumb to her orders. It had begun as a minor inconvenience, considering his life in Nebraska was futile to begin with. However, it would soon become the worst decision he has ever made. He knows he should have fought harder, but Mike hadn't met you until after he verified their relocation. It wasn't until he had stepped foot into your classroom for the very first time had he realized the weight of his mistake.
With the start of his shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza approaching, he struggled to bring these rampant thoughts to rest. Resentfully, Mike rises from his bed. The sun has begun to set and his unsatisfactory power nap has come to an end. He trudges over to the foot of his bed and begins his usual set of push-ups. Triggering adrenaline through his body is essential to his daily routine. It helps ease his brain from all the chaos. An area he is in dire need of assistance.
For a moment, his thoughts are blank. It is such an oddity, that Mike is left stunned. Having a silent mind is a privilege that is unknown to him.
And just when he thought he had found coherence, the memory of you comes sprinting at him from the shadows. Mere seconds of emptiness pass before thoughts of you invade his mind.
A week after your final goodbye.
His disposition has suffered from a harsh descent since then. Mike is now irritable and aggressive to anyone who even faintly nudges his buttons. Snapping like a feral dog. Rough like a calloused hand.
Acknowledging weakness has never been his strong suit, but Mike is not a fool when it comes to how he feels around you. The overwhelming nerves stirred together with unwavering devotion make for a sugary-sweet, poisonous concoction. Something he could get drunk off for years to come.
Although his mind is stained in consideration, he cannot storm through the school doors and take you with him to Utah. Merely standing in your presence is enough to make him stop breathing. Contriving an abduction, one that includes you, no less, would fail miserably. And as he stated before, the prospect of being stuck behind bars and never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.
So, he gives in. He resentfully gives in to what his Aunt Jane wants and goes about his life.
There was only two more weeks before he'd leave his job as security at the mall forever. Mike meanders through the large expanse, actively averting his gaze from all the happy couples. Hands held together, eyes brimming with adoration, feeding each other ice cream. It never fails to make him bitter, which he prefers to assume it is because of how sappy the sight is.
He wonders what flavor of ice cream is your favorite, the look in your eye as he feeds you a spoonful. What kind of sweet words you'd give him and the way you'd blush when he drowns you in adoration. Within the safety of his mind, he has molded himself into the man of your dreams. You will just have to look past all the sweat and nerves to find him.
A flicker of movement captures his attention. Something strangely familiar in his peripheral. When he turns, his breath gets caught in his chest.
His wide eyes stare at you. Standing alone across the mall.
All Mike can do is gawk. Like a newly-born fawn, staring goggle-eyed and weak-kneed as he takes in the sight of the world for the very first time. A gasp of your name parts from his lips. He sways in his stance like a boat on the sea, his body melts like snow beneath the sunlight. Stood still in place, he feels that familiar sense of light-headedness return. He embraces the dizziness as a comfort, this time around.
Mike could almost laugh at this. At the same time, he could cry his heart out.
Of course, your roads would intersect. Of course, you would find each other in the end. Even when he had fully accepted he would never see you again, you return to him. Like a cloud of happier days, here to hide the torment for all.
And then, he's interrupted.
Walking uninvited into the scene is a stranger. A man approaches you, daring to drape his arm around your shoulder. Mike's eye twitches as he watches. The stranger then plants a kiss on your cheek, something Mike has wished to do since the first time he stepped foot in your classroom. With this man's hands all over you, the two of you begin to walk away.
The word "heartbroken" was something Mike had never felt before. It was something he never understood. He only heard of the word through brainless movies, where he swore he'd never let himself fall apart like the dumb characters do. At this moment, however, that term is stamped all over him in thick ink. A vivid exhibition of all the good and bad you have done to him.
Without another thought, Mike takes a step. Then another. Before he is breaking into a full sprint toward the love of his life and the parasite latched onto them. It's as if a puppeteer was controlling him, grasping hold of his spine and snatching a fistful of nerves. He shoves past any shoppers in his way, a few losing balance and falling to the floor. His speed accelerates with every hastening step, growing closer and closer.
The stranger looks over his shoulder a second too late before he is tackled. The two fall into an adjacent fountain with a loud clamor. Mike's fist clenches, before it surges down into his face. Then, he does it again and again and again.
Again. Again. Again.
And again.
Grunting like an animal, Mike can't stop himself.
Fuck you. Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Don't you ever fucking touch them.
It is blinding, how enraged he is. In a mess of blood and water. The mere thought of someone laying a finger on you boils red-hot rage like he has never felt before.
Someone ensnares their arms around him and drags him away from the mess he created. When the splashing water eases down to calm ripples, he finally looks over to you to ensure your safety and- who is that? A different person is standing there, utter horror plastered on their face as they watch the scene play out.
They have the same height, the same clothes, almost the same everything. But, now that Mike is able to scrutinize who he thought to be you, he realizes he was completely wrong. He had only formed a desperate personification of you from memory. What has he done?
The dread is soul-crushing as the weight of his mistake crushes him. Other bystanders watch in shock. Mike's fists are bruised red, his clothes are wet and stained with blood. What on Earth was he thinking!? All he ever wanted was to protect you! To protect you from men like that!
Mike's vision doubles and his body shivers. All he ever wanted was to protect you. The only thing he can think about is you and the sheer devastation you have rained down into his life.
This memory playing through his head is abruptly cut short. Mike is then forcefully shoved back into reality when his hand slips during his set of push-ups. He falls face-first into the carpet, grumbling from the harsh contact.
It is a vile memory to have, as it is the reason he lost his job at the mall and truly eradicated any chance of staying in Nebraska. However, it showed him how irrevocably devoted he is to you. How the feelings he has for you are completely and utterly real. Someone like him, who prides himself in being aloof and controlled, was capable of causing such calamity. All for your safety.
It was a terrifying revelation, but it soothed him in a way he had never felt before.
Michael Schmidt needs you.
And unfortunately, his feelings are not powerful enough to stretch into physical reality. Even though it feels as though they are capable of doing so, they cannot mold the world to bring him back to you. They cannot protect him from the inevitability of leaving his home and being dragged to Utah.
Now, he stands at the entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Ivy grows amongst the bricked walls. Bright paint fades from years of neglect. Mike breathes in the scent of midnight brume as he unlocks the doors, trying once more to rid his brain of the thought of you.
The flashlight in his hands illuminates the inside of the pizzeria. Specks of dust permeate the air. Flashy arcade games are riddled with age. Toys on the prize shelf are covered in a blanket of cobwebs. The once gaudy carpets are caked with dirt. And those God-awful animatronics still stand on that rickety stage. Mike takes note of all these little things with a sigh. If this place was still alive today, he knows you'd adore taking your students here.
As his nights have been spent for the last year, he walks through the dilapidated establishment as usual. On the desk is a stack of chunky monitors displaying several angles of the pizzeria. The "CELEBRATE!" poster on the wall mocks him. He plops down on the adjacent swivel chair. The old fabric peels and the wheels whine from his weight.
Unzipping his ragged backpack, he grasps hold of the book he had taken with him, Dream Theory. Adjusting the headphones of his Walkman on his head, Mike then flicks the dog-ear over and resumes his reading.
God only knows how many times he has read this damned book. And every time he rereads it, he prays he can somehow find an anecdote for this torment. A magic step-by-step guide that will bring him back to you.
Despite perusing this book from front to back, he still searches for more. He hates being awake. He'd much rather be asleep, where he can return to you. Any second not spent with you, even if the moment is not tangible, is a second gone to waste. No matter what the circumstances are, he could only ever wish to be with you.
Lethargy hits Mike like a slap across the face. The book in his hands is now reminiscent of a brick. The song that plays on repeat in his Walkman soothes him like a mother's lullaby. All of these sensations embrace Mike; they pacify his brain and body of any unease. And with a few more leveled breaths, Dream Theory falls from his hands and he drifts off.
With a beat, he's woken up with a sharp gasp. This time, however, he does not awaken in the same dingy pizzeria. He finds himself sitting at a picnic table. Located in the very same forest he had lost his brother years ago.
Looking down, Mike finds he is dressed in the same hunter-green sweater and jeans stained with grass. His eyes scan around the expanse, searching for the faces of his family. He cannot find his mother, his father, nor Garrett. No one. Everything is to no avail.
There's a shuffle from behind him. He looks, only to find swaying trees and fluttering birds. And then, a voice.
"I'm sad to see you both go." The familiar cadence has Mike's head snapping back forward. He is struck with desperation.
There you are, sat across from him at the picnic table.
If it weren't for the campgrounds you were both at, this moment would be identical to when he first met you. In that same classroom, on that same day. Every mannerism and timbre of your voice is a picture-perfect copy of that moment. Same look in your eye, wearing the same clothes and bead bracelets your students made for you. Same everything.
It is a precious memory. To sit here with you feels so real, as though the heavens had answered Mike's prayers and brought him back to you.
"Abigail has always been a stellar student. I have no doubt she'll flourish in her new school."
Your smile makes his heart sink. Everyone always looks at him with anger. Not you, though. You're different.
"She does have a tendency to keep to herself. But, I think she'll adapt well to the new environment." He remembers every word from your mouth.
The emotions he was struck with when he first met you come back in a near-fatal rush. Irrepressible tension and rapture plunge through the barrier of his flesh. Practically a duplicate of the exact memory.
Going to a standard school meeting for his sister was an event Mike intended to do briefly. Getting it over as quickly as possible is his standard approach to most if not all, aspects of his life. This day, however, he was thrown in a whirlpool when he found himself wishing to stay with you. Leaving you felt like something he could not bear to endure.
Mike is abnormally pale, drenched in sweat, and mere seconds from passing out. You place your hand on his arm, inquiring him about if he was feeling alright. Hook, line, and sinker. Your mere touch sent him charging away from any perceived sanity he once possessed.
The strictly platonic concern you had for his well-being is addicting. To a point where Mike abandons all morals to indulge in these newfound feelings you give him. Once a poised man has now been reduced to a gooey puddle of sheer fervor.
All he can do is nod in response, completely entranced by the sight before him. You take his assurance hesitantly, before reaching into a basket of children's toys beside your desk. As this memory usually plays out, you retrieve a bear plushie. You then tell him of how it is Abby's favorite to play with and how you wish to gift it to her before your final goodbye. He agrees, of course. Nodding once more to compensate for his inability to speak.
In these woods, however, you show him that orange toy plane his brother treasured. His gaze remains latched to you as stand from the picnic table and walk away. To his utmost surprise, you then bend down beside Garrett. When you present him with the plane, he accepts your gift with childlike elation. He is quick to abandon his recent endeavors in favor of playing with his new toy.
You stand on foot, watching with an adoring smile as the young boy takes off. Mike watches you. An emotional, muddled intensity in his eyes.
"This isn't... This isn't how it happened... This isn't real." In his state of confusion, Mike has found the ability to speak.
He captures your attention and your gaze reverts to him. In response, his mouth goes dry and all coherent thought vanishes. Just one look from you and his entire capacity to speak is robbed, once again.
"But, it could be... It's what you want, isn't it?"
You are correct. You have always been veracious and that attitude does not fail now.
So despairingly, Mike wants this with you. To raise Abby and Garrett together, he can only imagine the wonderful people they'd become under your care. Maybe you and him could even bring a few more beautiful lives into this world. He can only imagine how exultant his own life would become if this dream turned into reality.
The rest of his life would be spent with you in Nebraska, just like this. Mornings and nights spent together at the dining table, all delicious laughter and nourishing meals. He'll even let you bring that lizard, too!
Playing frivolous games in the backyard until the sun sets, dressing in ridiculous costumes to take the kids trick-or-treating, and helping them blow out the candles for every birthday cake. Hell, he'll endure the sweltering temperatures and screaming kids at Disneyland. Only if you're there with him.
And maybe after the bedtime stories and last tuck-ins goodnight, you and him can occupy yourselves with other activities. Mike is no stranger to these kinds of fantasies, after all.
You wouldn't fail Abby and Garrett. Not like he did. You could all be a family. Exactly like he has always wanted.
For a moment, Mike had forgotten how his life had inevitably turned out. He was so warped in the domestic bliss he could have with you, that he didn't anticipate how the next chapter of his life would manifest in this dream.
You are tackled to the ground. You fight, you kick, you scream — you do everything in your strength to get the man off of you. The very same man who took Garrett all those years ago.
Not a picosecond passes before Mike picks himself up, rushing to your safety. He intends to beat the man to a bloody pulp. His sole purpose on Earth is to protect you and ensure your safety, after all. In his efforts, his foot gets caught against the legs of the picnic table, sending him to the dirt floor. Mike is quick to scramble to his feet. His heart races a mile a minute; his eyes are blown wide in crazed worry.
When he stands, he finds that somehow within the few seconds spent on the ground, you had been shoved into the back of a car. You bang your fists against the rear window, pleading for him to rescue you. And that, Mike desperately tries to do.
He sprints after you in a blind, blurred panic. The sudden, swift movement of his body is painful, as though needles poke and prod at his skin. It is all he can see, hear, feel, think of. Losing you and the gut-wrenching devastation that would inevitably follow.
The car begins to accelerate faster and faster. His running pace gets slower with every step forward. Mike tries, God, he fucking tries, but you slip away from him like sand between his fingers. Just the same as it was when he lost his brother.
With his speed receding, his body loses all mobility and he cannot bear to run anymore. The harsh punt of his body falling to the ground pulls a grunt out of his throat. Mike whispers mantras of "I'm sorry," hoping that you can somehow hear his pleas. He prays that by some miracle, the man who took you will have a change of heart and bring you back. Sobs plunge through his chest. The misery seeps in like water leaking through a weak dam.
Consciousness comes back to him all too suddenly. A loud yell of your name erupts from him and echoes through the security room. Mike plummets from his desk chair and splats against the ground. His mind is still plagued by that scene, he is still racing to save your life.
Cold sweat drips from his head. His hands shake with a terrified tremor. He hyperventilates, as though he had escaped the depths of the ocean and were inhaling fresh air for the first time. Mike weakly props himself up against the desk, trying to calm himself.
An entire year of agony. Over 365 days of absolute Hell. Living without you has tortured him in ways he never thought was possible.
Sitting here on the filthy floor of this old pizzeria, Mike finally waves his white flag. He has given up. He cannot do this anymore. It is more than he can handle.
And without so much as another breath, Mike springs into action.
Max is surprised to see him back home so early. Flustered and ridden with sweat, Mike explains how there is an emergency at work and he needs her to watch Abby longer. She obliges and accepts the hefty pay he shoves into her hands. He is driving away before she can process what has just occurred.
The song he plays every night in his Walkman blares from the car radio. Your song. The idea brings him ephemeral ease. A dash of excitement.
This is what his life is supposed to be and if all goes well, it's what it will be in mere hours. Mike's foot slams harder against the gas, doing what he should have done long ago.
All he has to do is explain himself. Surely, you will listen and understand this is for the better. You will see through all his stuttered words and irrepressible nerves. You will taste the sickeningly sweet devotion dripping from his mushy, candied heart. Surely, you will understand this is all for you. And of course, you will love him, too.
Hours pass like gusts of wind. The welcome sign of Nebraska passes in a flash. Mike remembers the route like the back of his hand. He'd never forget the roads that lead back to you, after all.
Dawn is moments from rising. The sky is a dark blue, covered in blotches of dark, orange sunshine. Mike pulls into the parking lot of your school where only one car is present. Yours. And of course, he parks directly beside you. The prospect of being close to you, even with something as negligible as this, sends a hot shiver coursing through his body.
Mike tries to soothe himself as he lets out a shaky breath. A heavy trepidation is nestled in his stomach, still mixed with that crisp excitement. Sweat cascades down his face. His dark, curly hair sticks to his forehead. Nothing can stop these feelings. He may try, but his scattered heartstrings stubbornly remain ensnared around his throat.
When he stands, he has to latch onto the roof of his car to catch his balance. Any passerby would think he was drunk. Being at an elementary school would certainly not help his case, either. Fortunately, the only people here are you and him. No one else. Just the way it is supposed to be.
The path leading to you is familiar. The trees blossoming, the chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and the scent of the early-morning breeze. It reminds Mike even more of how much he missed you.
His wet palms grasp the handles of the front entrance. He pulls, only for the door to remain locked in place. A few more desperate tugs and he watches as his ploy peels apart from the seams. The consideration of breaking down the door is only present momentarily, before any and all function of his is cut short.
The door is unlocked and opened. Stood at the threshold is you.
And with more intensity than Mike had anticipated, the euphoria only you are capable of conjuring comes rushing back.
"Good morning!" is all you say. Your expression is cheerful. Kind. Gorgeous, as you always are. Exactly the way he remembered.
Now that you are finally here, Mike cannot fathom how he had survived so long without you. The pieces of you sprinkled throughout his life are brought to revelation. Your name carved into his bones, your warmth threaded through his veins, your breath stirred with his every word. It is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The fact he had not collapsed upon making mere eye contact with you is a miracle in of itself.
"Oh! Are you the new security guard? I wasn't aware we were getting a new hire." You break the silence, referring to the yellow "SECURITY" stamped on his vest.
You...
You don't remember me?
The words don't manage to escape him. Instead, you send him into a state of stupor.
The impact your words have on him is nothing short of surreal. When Mike had memorized every sliver of you down to the tilt of your jaw and the curve of your spine, you had forgotten him entirely. For the year he spent longing for you, he was merely a bystander in the background. An apparition within your mind. You do not remember him. And no words in the English language could express the lethal heartbreak.
It has rendered Mike speechless and his inability to speak fills you with unease.
"Please, come in." Opening the door further, you try and usher him inside. All you wish to do is escape this conversation and the fervid eyes of this stranger.
Gaze still glued to you, he grasps hold of the door handles. His unconscious brain still decides to take the weight off of you. Mike has no choice now, he must convince you to stay with him. To beg you to choose him, to remind you of everything you once had with each other. To show you what losing you has done to him.
When you turn and walk away, he tries to find his voice. Mike wants to express all of this to you, but his efforts are futile. He is frozen and can only watch as you leave him again. The opposite direction of your classroom, this time. Towards the office. Most likely to ensure he was actually in the system.
Mike does not take this choice of yours for granted. Gathering up whatever morsel of strength is still left in him, he takes a few wobbly steps. He stumbles through the dark hallways, clutching his hand over his heart as he walks. His rampant heartbeat does not calm itself, no matter his attempts to soothe it.
Upon practically collapsing into your classroom, a flare of fleeting ease envelops Mike. To be surrounded by you is absolute ecstasy. Paradise is personified through flamboyant decorations and the scent of strawberries and books.
He scans every detail of your classroom. The new drawings on the wall, the jumble of recently purchased toys. He sees the new changes you have made in the past year and is shattered to know you were not thinking of him at all. As opposed to every second of his life being enmeshed with you.
Mike soon finds your desk. The first and last place he had ever truly felt happiness. On the surface, some of your clutter had been left behind. Too cute. A colorful planner had been left open to this exact date. A few papers are sat to the side, where students' assessments are in the process of being graded. Most important of all, your thermal scattered with stickers sits on a pained coaster.
Mike knows he should not consider it, no less think about it. You just need to be reminded, that's all.
With a paranoid glance at the door, he takes the orange bottle of sleeping pills from his backpack. He swiftly pours out several onto the desk. Then, he takes a stapler you had left out of reach from children's sticky fingers, crushing the thin white circles into a chunky powder. Your thermal opens with a quiet pop! and Mike pours the residue into your drink. He uses the straw to stir it around for effective measure, trying to ignore the incessant urge to take your straw for... personal use.
A storage closet resides right behind him. Mike leaves everything on your desk as it once was and is swift to hide inside. He leaves the door open a mere creak, within perfect distance to watch his plan unfold.
The minute without you feels torturous, as though it had lasted a millennia. When the aching sound of silence is filled by a creaking door, his heart practically plummets. Through the small peep, you enter his field of vision. You trot over to the iguana enclosure. Saying a quick hello to Mr. Cupcake, before making your way to your desk. Oblivious to the uninvited guest just inches away.
You take a sip from your thermal. Mike cannot find air to breathe or the ability to function.
You take another. This is actually happening.
One more sip. Your pen scribbles on your planner.
You take a sip. It is a blessing straight from God you cannot hear the hyperventilated breaths behind you.
Then, another sip. Holy shit, this is actually happening.
As you work, you reach over to grab some sticky notes. Your elbow accidentally nudges your pen, causing it to fall from your desk and roll across the floor. You stand to retrieve it with a grumble before a sudden wave of lethargy envelops you. It is all too sudden and acute. You have to lean on the edge of your desk to stable yourself.
Before you can question the sudden fatigue, your body fails you. When you inevitably fall, Mike is quick to catch you. Hell, his arms were around you before your legs even wobbled. Slowly, and with loving attentiveness, he guides your limp body to the ground. The adrenaline inside him is so penetrating, that he does not have a moment to process the fact he is touching you.
With you fully unconscious, Mike knows exactly where he'll be heading next. Only now, he'll have an additional passenger with him.
He secures your unconscious form into the back seat of his car. Fastening your seatbelt and triple-checking they are in proper function. Mr. Cookie, or whatever his name is, is in the front seat within his cage. Moving his enclosure and necessities from your classroom was a hassle, as told by the bite mark on Mike's hand. For you, though, he would endure far worse.
With the birds beginning to sing, there is little time before the world wakes up and his intentions are jeopardized. Mike drives off before anyone can see what he has done. Not even he has fully processed what he has done.
Leaving your car, your home, and your life behind, he begins the treacherous and exciting journey back to Utah.
Every car that passes has him gripping the wheel tighter, foot reader to slam harder on the gas. He had already lost you once, he cannot lose you again. Mike does not play music, either. The sounds of your breathing is his new favorite harmony.
He casts a glance in the rear-view mirror every now and then. You're draped among the back of the car, cocooned in the numerous blankets he brought for this trip. Beneath the windows, your head is rested against a fluffy pillow. He even snuggled a few plushies into your arms. The sight is so gut-wrenchingly adorable, Mike nearly crashes the car with how painfully distracting the sight of you is.
This was the state he stayed in for the first several hours of the drive. Mindless driving on freeways, checking on you (as well as continuously cooing over your cuteness), and holding his breath whenever he passes through busy areas or cops. Then, he gets knocked off course.
With blurred vision, you can barely discern where you are.
Sunlight makes you squint. Your mind is messy. You can hear the rumble of a car engine, feel the vibration against your form. The blankets wrapped around you are suffocating. You peel them off from your body, a few random stuffed animals fall to the car floor when you do so.
Mike nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns around. His efforts to take you away were frivolous, yes, but he was sure he had given you enough pills to sleep through the trip.
"Hey, you're okay. Y-You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay? Just don't freak out... Please don't freak out."
You do the opposite of what he advised. Little by little, the pieces begin to click together. Panic settles in your stomach like a fresh sheet of snow. Hyperventilating breaths leave your shaking body, accentuated by your frightened whimpers. Who is this man? What the fuck is going on? Tears stream down your face with every question that litters your mind. And every cracked sob you let out is a fatal strike to your assailant's fragile heart.
Mike is quick to comfort you, as you can always count on him to do such. And how badly he wishes to climb into the back seat himself and hold you close. Everything he is doing is for the better, you must know that. As scary as this all may seem for you, he will do whatever it takes to convince you of this truth.
He reaches his hand back to soothe you, only succeeding in the opposite when you cower away from his touch. Mike cannot hide how poignant your rejection is, he is shocked he hadn't broken down into tears alongside you.
"... Are you going to hurt me-?"
"I would never."
He answers without a sliver of hesitation. Your shattered, sugar-sweet voice absolutely destroys him.
The weight of his declaration is so immense that you could almost believe him. You should believe him, as he only tells the utter truth. The fact you have been drugged and shoved into the backseat of a stranger's car, however, convinces you otherwise.
Looking through the window, you take note of the rural area you're in. Nothing but miles of trees to comfort you. No distinct landmarks to help you navigate your location.
Mike oscillates between looking at you and the road. While he's occupied with the road ahead, you take action before thinking thoroughly. Sweltering blankets torn off of your body, you unfasten your seatbelt as silently as you can. You mentally prepare yourself for the turmoil up ahead. Then, within a matter of a single second, you unlock the car door and jump.
Debris slices into you as you fall deeper into the forest. The world becomes a blurred frenzy of trees and cloudy skies. Your frail body is drowsy from the drugs still pumping through your system. Your ribs ache, your ears ring, and you are covered in gashes. Still, survival is the only prospect present in your brain. You pick yourself up from the dirt and dash forward. Never looking back.
April puddles and fallen pinecones ruin your expensive work shoes. Fresh flowers are squished beneath your steps. There is no path you intend to take, you only wish to get as far as you can from that man. Poison ivy and low-hanging branches slash at your skin. You do not think, you only push and push and push. Anywhere away from him.
The second you had opened that car door, Mike slammed down on the brakes. The scream of your name hurts his throat from the sheer volume. To see you jump, leaving him again, sparked fear like no other. He does not even bother to turn off the car or close the door before he is racing after you. He cannot lose you again. He can't, he can't, he can't.
Mike barrels into the forest like a feral animal. He is met with a terrifying sense of déjà-vu. He's seen this movie before, he's heard this song a million times. This dream has haunted him forever. Just when he is inches from touching salvation, you will be snatched away from him. And he will have to watch as his life crumbles before his very eyes.
His legs grow heavier with every step. He screams for you until his voice goes raw. His lungs feel as though they may collapse into themselves. Still, his efforts to find you do not falter. You would have to kill him if you wished to keep him away from you.
A tree branch crunches.
Mike stops dead in his tracks. Listening.
There's a pained whimper. Quiet amongst the soft winds.
He dashes toward the sound. Swift in surging through the steep hills and overgrown forestry in his path.
While you were running, you failed to notice a protruding tree root. When your foot hooks beneath it and sends you tumbling to the ground, you try and scramble to your feet. However, the burst of adrenaline that had gotten you this far could not combat the lethargy still in your body. You lay on your back, exasperated with debility. Entirely paralyzed.
"Y/N! Oh, thank God!" Mike collapses beside you, all while you stare at the stranger in utter terror.
Dirt and sweat paint his body. Eyes blown wide and crazed, his hands reach for you. Fearfully searching for any wounds. One hand cradles your face, caressing your skin with his thumb. The other rests against your hairline, petting the expanse with tender intent. Cries of both relief and terror fill the empty silence. To lose you all over again is a horrifying prospect he cannot fathom the weight of.
"N-... No..." Your voice is weak. Barely able to crawl out of your mouth.
Fingers latched into the mud, you try to drag your body away from this maniac. Mike brings your attempts to a halt, hands still latched onto your body.
"I'll be good, Y/N, I will... Just-Just stay with me!"
Your assailant does not listen to your feeble demands. Instead, Mike wraps his arms around your torso. Further ensnaring you in his locked embrace. He buries his face into your neck and rocks your body back and forth. Trying to soothe you into another slumber. His sniffles are overpowered by his sharp inhales of breath. Consuming your scent.
"You're not leaving me. You're not fucking leaving me!" Mike bawls out.
He is now a complete mess. Face twisted with ugly sobs. All hot tears and running snot.
"Just sleep now, okay? I'm right here..."
Blunt nails dig into your shoulder blades. His weight on top of you is suffocating. Please just love him and never leave him. That is all he could ever ask for, all he could ever want. He has spent so long without the one he loves most, he cannot bear to ever part from them ever again.
With a choked groan, Mike lifts your limp body from the ground. Sniffling reassurances echo as you reach a state of unconsciousness. He lifts you over his shoulder and your body loses all mobility. As he takes you away, your mind fades into a peaceful rest. Escaping is now a pipe dream.
Faint sounds of shuffling are what you're next awoken to. Pipes bang and thump. It is far more quiet than your last conscious encounter.
Darkness pervades your vision. Your body feels weightless, as though you are floating through a dream. You cannot move, no matter your efforts to try. As if your limbs had been glued to the fluffy expanse you've been laid upon. All you are capable of doing is releasing a guttural moan of disdain from the back of your throat.
"Easy, cub. Easy now."
No.
The voice is fluffy and easy. Horrifyingly familiar.
This can't be real; this can't be reality. This cannot be what your life becomes: rotting away in this stranger's embrace.
You were granted several mere seconds of solitude before hands were on your body, once again. The grasp lifts your body, to where your assailant sits behind you and rests your back against his chest. His efforts are gentle. Comforting. Though, the movement still has you wincing in discomfort. You hadn't anticipated how many injuries you had given yourself.
Speckles of your sight return in short spurts. There is light against the darkness, everything is gold. Drowned in the hues of candlelight scattered around the room. The glow is cast against a fuzzy expanse, to where you could almost convince yourself you were in a dream. And my God, do you wish it was.
You miss the rich, headache-inducing colors of your classroom. The judging stares of other parents who drowned their homes in beige decor never felt more comforting. You miss the screeching children with their constant need for attention. Their dramatic tears and obnoxious attitude would bring you peace like no other.
Mike plants his chin against your shoulder and all you can think about is the beautiful life you have lived until this point. His arm slithers across your torso, tightening with vehement need. It is loving in the most suffocating manner. You then hear a bottle unscrew through static noise. shushes you as he presses the lid against your lips. Water cascades into your mouth and down your dry throat, all while Mike presses impassioned kisses to your temple.
"There you go. Very good... You're perfect..." His tone is cordial as he ushers you to drink.
As much as you had tried to fight his attempts to give you water, it has fortunately provided you more clarity. The environment surrounding you fades into something more lucid.
You've been swaddled in a thick comforter. Soft and floral-scented, fresh out of the dryer. The king-size bed is at the end of the room and provides you with a clear view of everything. The lack of windows and decrepit staircase tucked in the corner tell you this is a basement. Soundproofed and locked up, your chances of escape are minimal. He does not want to let you go, that much is for certain.
Across the room is a chunky television. Movie cassettes sit in the cabinet supporting the television, where a newly purchased GameCube is left beside, as well. There's a bookshelf to your left, which is filled with old novels and children's books. Nothing was bought recently. Is there a child in this house? Lego sets and puzzle boxes are stacked next to the shelf. You come to the chilling assumption that it is intended to be something for you to occupy yourself with when he's gone.
Much to your satisfaction, Mike leaves from his spot behind you. He guides you back onto the pillow with romantic, loving ease. A gentle caress to your cheek before he goes. As if he was your doting husband taking care of you while you are ill.
When you look to your right, your heart accelerates when you find your iguana enclosure on top of a rickety table. Thank God he is alright! You do not know what you would do if this man had harmed Mr. Cupcake.
As words have failed you consistently, you whine out like a baby to express your wants. Your assailant's attention is back on you at record speed. The persistent need he has to ensure your comfort is almost pathetic. Teary-eyed and pouty, you reach for the enclosure holding your iguana.
Mike's body goes rigid. A gentle gasp emanates from him.
Are you... Are you reaching for him?
He practically throws himself back onto the bed. Sat beside your laying form, he almost can't bring himself to believe it. His deluded fantasies have bloomed into existence.
"Yes? What do you need, cub?" Please say him. Please say you need him like he needs you.
Mike looks at you and his eyes melt into candy. A gentle smile plastered on his face, he brings his finger up and boops you on the nose. Affectionate is his natural disposition. You're too fucking cute.
Mike had wasted an entire year without you. Too much time spent neglecting you of his love. Oh, you must have been so lonely without him. This is all he has wanted, after all. To take care of you. To take the weight off your shoulders and bring you ease like no other. He will spend the rest of his lifetime making up for the lost time. He would spend forever for you, slaving away to earn your forgiveness.
When you firmly establish what it is you actually want, no amount of sleeping pills in your thermal cup could stop you from seeing how defeated he is. Your rejection cuts like a dagger. Anyone can see this genuine fact. Still, Mike abides by your request. He'd tear mountains asunder for your happiness, after all.
Begrudgingly, he leaves your side. He opens the enclosure with struggle. Too many notches and slots. When he takes Mr. Cupcake into his hands, the iguana squirms and twists. Almost as if the reptile grasped what was happening. He propels his tail like a whip, reaching for the hands around him with his sharp teeth. His nails dig into whatever part of this stranger he can find.
When Mike plops him into your lap, Mr. Cupcake relaxes instantaneously. You snuggle him into your arms and are provided comfort from him, as well. His scaly flesh and jagged spine abrade your face, but you have never known a more soothing embrace. You plant a myriad of kisses and adoring nuzzles on Mr. Cupcake's skin. At the same time, you ignore the third wheel standing there.
Mike watches this and is nearly sick with want. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd wish to be an iguana this bad. The things he would give and the things he would take to be on the receiving end of your affections bridges off insanity.
Averting his gaze, he cannot watch the scene anymore. He had never expected to be so envious of a goddamn reptile. Mike grants you the time you want with that prickly bastard and leaves the basement. You hear the tumultuous clatter of all the locks and bolts being put into place once he is gone.
The time without Mike is something you do not take for granted. Silence is precious, solitude even more so. During his absence, you reel through the supercut of your life. You cannot find this man in any of your memories. You do not remember that face no matter how hard you try. He is the bad guy, the villain. The very definition of 'stranger-danger' you teach your students about.
When Mike returns, all of that disturbed turbulence comes with him.
In his hands is a cracked dinner plate with spaghetti and meatballs splat on top. The closer he gets, the faster your heart pumps. Setting the plate down on the bedside table, he takes your iguana from your tight hold. Mr. Cupcake still thrashes in his grasp, trying to bite and hit wherever he can. Good boy.
When the beast is locked away, Mike is idyllic to be alone with you again. He acts as though the current circumstances were romantic, where you and him are enjoying an amorous vacation. He then places the meal carefully in your lap, wary of the hot plate burning your precious skin.
"You need to eat, cub. You've been through so much. Too much." Mike's hand finds your face again, thumb caressing your cheek.
His mere words make you want to vomit your breakfast all over what is supposed to be your dinner. Still, you obey and begin eating. The dish is mediocre, at best. You've tasted better from the kitchen play set where your students wear chef hats and cook plastic food. Kidnapped and trapped in a basement, however, you'll take whatever scraps you can get.
Eyes glued to your plate, you do not watch as Mike takes a movie from the cabinet and pops it into the VCR. "The Immortal and the Restless" whirs to life as he returns to where you sit. Mike lays down beside you and joins you beneath the warm comforter. He takes the fork from your hands. A shiver cascades up his arm upon the faint contact made by your fingers touching. Oh, it is love. He then begins to feed you. There is nothing but sugary madness in his eyes.
Bite by bite, you are forced to watch soap operas and listen to nauseating love declarations.
"I was so alone out there without you, baby."
If only you hadn't been so fooled by a security vest and pretty brown eyes, you could be with your students right now. You could be free right now.
If only.
⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ
❝ PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT
MAYBE YOU'LL COME BACK AROUND . . . ❞
no one asked for this but idc hehe.
gif creds :: mike.
#moonfairy#fnaf#fnaf movie#five nights at freddy's#mike schmidt#michael schmidt#fnaf x reader#five nights at freddys x reader#mike schmidt x reader#michael schmidt x reader#fnaf imagine#fnaf imagines#five nights at freddys imagine#mike schmidt imagine#michael schmidt imagine#yandere fnaf#yandere five nights at freddys#yandere mike schmidt#yandere michael schmidt#yandere#gn reader#gender neutral reader#Spotify
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Sick, Sick, Sick
Summary: You and Mike have become really close and Eleven is seething with jealousy
Pairings: Yandere! Mike Wheeler x Reader
TW: Cheating?, Slight Angst
It kind of just happened; You and Mike getting close. You weren't trying to 'steal' him from Eleven, but that's how she was seeing it. When you thought about it, you guessed you could understand why she thought that.
You and Mike rarely had any conversation. Maybe the occasional 'Hello' or 'What's up?' but that was very rare. You were both paired for a project in your science class. It was a big project that was worth 65% of your overall grade. So, you two had begun to spend a lot of time together.
But nothing was going on. You were just hanging outside of school on the weekdays. It's not like you took up his time during school or weekends. Until, he did start hanging out with you on the weekend. 'I just want to get this project done quicker, so we have more free time.' You understood and part of you thought it was smart. But then things took a turn.
----
Mike saw this as the best thing that's ever happened to him. He has had a crush on you for years, since he was a kid. Sure, maybe he had a girlfriend, but she could never replace you in his heart. He knew it was wrong and shitty, but he couldn't help the way he felt whenever you were near.
He couldn't stop that light feeling in his stomach when he saw you. He couldn't help the way his cheeks would brighten when hearing you talk. He couldn't help the knots in his abdomen when thinking about you. The feelings were overwhelming and they were starting to get out of control. He knew that Eleven could see it, but for some reason it didn't bother him like he knew it was supposed to. There was actually a part of him that was hoping she'd break up with him.
Thankfully, that moment came sooner than later. He and Eleven were sitting in his room and he was putting some notebooks and such in a bag. She looked at him, confused, before questioning his eagerness to get away from her.
"What are you doing?"
He looks up at her, surprised. He had momentarily forgot she was in his room. He looks away for a brief moment, before looking back at her. "Uh, I'm going to Y/n's tonight for our project. Got to finish all the notes."
"You've been spending a lot of time with her, Y/n."
He looks up, pretending to think, "Huh... Yeah I guess I have. Haven't really thought about it."
She frowns, glaring at him as he continued to get his stuff together.
"You barely hang out with me anymore."
He finally looks at her, really looks at her, "It's a big project. It's worth over 60% of my grade-"
"You've never cared about your grades before."
He rolls his eyes, pushing a hand through his hair, "You're just jealous."
She scoffs, taken aback, "Excuse me?"
"You're jealous that I'm hanging out with a girl that's not you-"
"So what if I am? I'm your girlfriend."
"Yeah, well maybe if you're so jealous another girl hanging out with your boyfriend, maybe you should find a guy who doesn't hang out with girls."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
He frowns, pausing his movements, "No.... But- Maybe we should take a break."
Eleven frowns, rubbing her eyes to try and stop her from crying. "If that's what you want." She quickly stands up, before leaving his room and slamming his door.
----
"You and Eleven broke up?" You looked over the male, surprised. You had never thought they'd break up, because they were so close. They seemed like a perfect couple. Guess everything wasn't as it seemed.
"Yeah. Well, a break, but we all know that's just a nice way for breaking up."
"God, I can't believe it. You both were attached at the hip, especially a few years ago."
"Yeah...." He looks away, trying not to think about it. He didn't want to think about his crush on you. He had liked you when he first met you when he was 10. He remembered it so well; You were a new girl and he noticed you immediately, I mean how could he not? You were absolutely stunning and realizing this he knew you would never talk to him. He was a loser and you quickly fit in with the cooler kids.
"Hey, are you okay?"
He looks back at you, shaking his head, "Sorry did you say something?"
"The billboard, we need to put all the information on it and we should be done with this project."
Mike frowned when realizing your time together was about to come to an end. He liked being around you and without this project you would never even breath the same air as him, much less look at him.
"You know, when I first met you I thought you were mean."
"What?" He looked at you confused, as you put the billboard down and some markers. The bed dips under your weight and Mike can feel his stomach drop. "Mean? Me?"
You look over at him, blushing, before pushing some hair behind your ear, "Yeah. I thought you and your friends were so cool-"
"You thought WE were cool?" He scoots closer to you on the bed, his eyes widened as he points to himself, "Me?"
Your blush darkens, "Yeah. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't think you'd want to talk to someone like me. I kinda thought you would think I'm... well... a dork."
"Someone like you? What?" He rubs his face and you can feel your ears darken in embarrassment, "We all thought you were so cool. We were-ARE losers."
"I don't think you're a loser."
He stops for a second, smiling at you, "Well- I don't think you're a dork."
You let out a chuckle, looking away from him, "Trust me, everyone thinks I'm a dork."
"Why would someone think you, the coolest person ever, are a dork?"
You blush, before getting off the bed and going under your bed, before pulling out a big box. "I hide this every time you come over."
He looks over at you confused, before you pull off the top. Inside are dozens of comic books that were in sealed bags. He goes to the floor, pulling out some of the comics, realizing some of them were collectibles.
"Oh my god? Is this the first issue if Batman?"
"It's signed by Bob Kane."
His eyes nearly bulge when seeing that it was indeed signed by the co-creator of Batman. "Oh, my god. This has to be the coolest thing in the world."
You blush, twirling a piece of your hair. "There's some other comics, like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Daredevil, Some Marvel Comics and Teen Titans."
"Those aren't very girly comic books." He says it offhandly, not meaning anything by it, but when you don't respond he looks up at you, to see that you weren't looking at him and your face was downward.
"Yeah... That's kind of why I don't have them on display."
Mike is quick to backpaddle, "Oh, no! I didn't mean it like that. These are really cool. I've never met a girl that like comics."
"Well, it's not like girls can just walk in there." A shiver runs down your spine, "Those guys have never seen a girl." You shake your head, "We should probably get back to the project."
---
His eyes follow your every movement. You had been quiet since showing him your 'secret'. Though, Mike didn't think it was an embarrassing thing. In fact, he thought it made you cooler in his mind.
"So... Comics huh?"
You don't look at him, just continue to write on the billboard, as he finishes the notes, "Yeah..."
He hummed in thought and decided to ask, "Do you know about D&D?"
He saw you freeze out of the corner of his eyes, before you slowly turn to him.
"D&D? Dungeons and Dragons the RP game where you create characters and play in a fantasy world?"
"Yeah!" He lightens up, forgetting about his project and getting closer to you.
"Nope. Never heard of it...."
"Really? Hmm.... That's to bad."
"Why?"
"Well, it'd be nice to get a new face in our D&D Games-"
"You play D&D?"
"Of course-"
"God, you are such a nerd," You chuckle, covering your mouth.
"Well, you're a nerd, too."
"I've never played D&D before, though-"
"But, I bet you just haven't found anyone to play with."
"Well, I'm looking at an anyone now, aren't I?"
He smiles, practically nose to nose with you, "Yeah... Yeah, you are."
----
"And then she threw it on the floor and it blew out the floor," You laugh, shaking your head, as Mike listens intently.
The past two hours you both kept getting closer and closer, when you start whispering. It was as if you were both sharing secrets that only the two of you knew. It was like you were the only people in the world and Mike loved it.
"Oh? I bet your mother wasn't happy."
Your shoulders tighten, as you look away from him, your head leaning forward and you lean on Mike's shoulder. "She was livid. God, you should have seen it." You take your head off Mike's shoulder and you make eye contact with him.
You both stare at each other, before you both slowly lean in. You close your eyes as you feel his breath on your lips, nearly touching. It felt like a million years before he was finally on you, lightly kissing you. It felt like the graze of a feather, soft and silky. He pulls back, but only by a few inches, before kissing you again.
He couldn't believe that he was kissing you. He had liked you for so long and here he was, on your bed making out with you. If he told his younger self, he wouldn't believe it.
There's a loud smushing sound as your lips collide and mesh together. You feel his slender fingers grip your face as he continued to suck your face. As much as you were enjoying his lips on yours, your mind went towards El and you quickly pushed him off.
He looked at you confused, but before he could ask you what's wrong you ask him to leave.
"What?"
"Can you please leave?"
He's confused and he wants to ask you about it, but you aren't listening. You just keep telling him to leave. He's disappointed, but he listens and grabs his stuff. He wants to bash his head with a brick for his stupidity. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't know exactly what it was.
You frown, still sitting on your bed, rubbing your face. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. Eleven already didn't like you and thought you were trying to steal her boyfriend and she wouldn't be happy if you had kissed Mike. Granted they were on break, as far as you knew, but you know you'd be mad. God, what were you going to do.
#mike wheeler#yandere mike#yandere mike x reader#yandere mike wheeler x reader#mike wheeler x reader#stranger things#stranger things x reader#yandere stranger things x reader#yandere stranger things#yandere horror#yandere supernatural#yandere x reader#yandere#mike wheeler x you#mike x you
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“Will can move on and find someone else” do people not understand that this is a TV show? Of course if this were real life, there would be opportunity for Will to move on and be happy without dating Mike. But Will is a character. And the story has been set up in such a way that for Will, in the canon timeline of the show, it’s Mike or no-one. It’s Mike or rushed, under-developed, last minute/epilogue love interest. Will is in love with Mike specifically for a reason, and that was a storyline built up over years. He is not getting a fulfilling romance with some never-seen-before guy in the jam-packed finale season of the show. It’s Byler or they made a calculated decision to have the only gay main character, who is shown to be more painfully in love than any other person on that show, suffer gut-wrenching heartbreak and for what? When every other character has gotten a multi-season reciprocal romance plot.
Season 5 is the last chance they’ve got to offer him satisfying payoff for all that he’s been through, and of all characters, Will is the absolute last one who needs a “sometimes things don’t turn out the way you wanted but you'll be okay” message to conclude his story because he’s never gotten what he wants. His existence on this show has been traumatic event after traumatic event. They’ve set Mike up as the one thing Will loves and wants more than anything, and denying him that after all that he’s been through is unnecessarily cruel storytelling. (Obviously this is not at all to say that Mike is some sort of prize for Will, Byler perfectly intertwines with and completes Mike's individual character arc too, which is why it should and will (fingers crossed) happen).
Some guy called Will didn’t just randomly fall in love with his best friend and "oh it’s completely fine if Mike rejects him because there’s someone out there who’ll be right for him"—writers put him in this situation! Writers actively chose to double down on his “unrequited” feelings in the penultimate season! Writers put him through hell, physically and emotionally, and specifically relating to his sexuality. Then they slowly but surely revealed that he is pining for this one thing, this person that brings him strength and inspiration and hope, and people think him being told no that kind of happiness is not for you sorry kid, but hey at least your loved ones don't hate you for being gay, who could’ve predicted that? If you're lucky we’ll even let you smile at random cute guy in the epilogue! is acceptable let alone good storytelling? Will deserves better than a “there’s vague happiness in his future” ending, and we should absolutely expect better.
#byler#I've been trying to word this right for a couple of days#just my absolute least favourite anti take
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hello!!! i love your works so far :DD!!
can i request the rise boys with an s/o who’s a human but has experience fighting with mutants? like s/o uses a scythe and can easily fight with the turtles :)
The Rise! Turtles with a human scythe wielding s/o!
Neon Leon
He thinks you're so cool!
Listen, he knows humans can go up against yokai's and mutant's
I mean, his dad and April are living proof of that-
But he genuinely can't help but be amazed when he sees you using a scythe of all things to go up against yokai's literally four times your size
Especially since you seemingly appeared out of nowhere to join the battle-
Seriously, can you portal or something???
He stops are stares as you easily knock a rather angry lizard yokai off balance, before sending them running with a slice of your wicked scythe
Your movement were so fluid,
A literal blink and you'll miss it type of speed
"Woah S/O! I didn't know you could do that-"
He'll exclaim, before ducking as you swipe at another angry yokai right behind him
"Think you could teach me how to do some of that??"
"Sure- we should probably finish this fight first though."
Oh right the fight-
He loves to spar with you
You're able to keep up with him quite easily!
And Leo is fast- like really fast
But even when he uses his portals to try to get near you-
Your scythe easily keeps him at bay.
He's absolutely in awe of you
Your blades clash together and Leo gives you this bright smile
"How in the world did I end up with someone so cool!?"
Don Tron
Donnie's impressed!
Though, he tries not to show it
Wielding a weapon like a scythe or bow staff automatically gives you cool points in his book
And you're incredibly proficient with your scythe too???
Donnie definitely want's to challenge you
"Your scythe versus my magnificent Bo-staff, I think the winner is pretty clear here."
What he thought would be an easy fight ended up being a nearly 20 minute long battle
You both were neck and neck
You were quick to block his attacks and dish out some deadly looking slices of your own
Afterwards, Donnie offers to modify your scythe for you!
"Think about it- it's already incredibly sharp and in your hands?? Borderline deadly. Now, hear me out, imagine if it had a chainsaw?"
Donnie pls.
"Or what if it was purple!?"
Donnie no-
Whether or not you let him add some "flair" to your scythe
He genuinely thinks you're cool
He doesn't even flinch when he sees you, his wonderful human s/o, go up against a super powered yokai
"Me? Worried?? No need to, I already called a mystic doctor."
"You mean a human doctor, right?"
"No??? That yokai obviously needs a mystic doctor."
He never doubted you for a second~
(That yokai you beat definitely needed that doctor- yikes)
Mystic Mike
He thinks you're amazing!!!
You're out here with no powers
No magic
No mutations
Just your normal human self and scythe
Fighting angry mutants and yokai like nothing!!!
Mikey thinks you're one of the strongest people he's ever known!
Aside from his family ofc
He loves to watch you fight
Has and will bring snacks to watch
Ofc, if you're ever in a pinch, Mikey will gladly swoop in to help you
He absolutely loves teaming up with you
Between his nun-chucks and your scythe-
No villain stands a chance
He even uses the blades in his nun-chucks from time to time to "match with you" ^^
Loves asking you to let him wrap his chains around the staff portion of your scythe so you can launch him at people
"It'll look so cool! C'mon just once???"
To be fair-
It does look and feel pretty dang cool!
Mikey knows you can handle your own in battle
He's seen it more than once
But if things ever get too rough
He's always there to lend a hand!
Big Red
Oh Raph...
Poor guy nearly faints every time you go into battle
Yes he knows humans can fight too
But you're not even using a mystic powered weapon like April does!
You could get seriously injured or worse!!
He always starts worrying over you
Especially when you both were just starting to get to know each other-
He didn't want to loose one of the few friends and humans that he knew!
He often will go into battle and cover you,
Taking hits or tackling opponents away
But you end up having a serious talk with him about this
"I know you're worried, but I can do this. I know how to fight-"
"I know, I know, I just get worried ya know?"
While he's still nervous about it,
He eventually starts hanging back to let you fight your own fights
And he comes to realize you are pretty great at what you do!
Your scythe is practically an extension of your own body,
And you easily handle opponents larger than you-
Both mystic and mutated!
"You're amazing!!"
Raph really comes to respect your strength and proficiency with your scythe.
He knows you can handle yourself
That still doesn't stop him from jumping in to help or defend you
Even when you may not necessarily need help
He still cares and worries about you
Doesn't want you to get hurt
Especially if he can help it.
"Er- sorry, I just jumped in again without thinkin'..."
I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for such a long wait
#my writing#rottmnt#rottmnt x reader#tmnt x reader#rottmnt leo x reader#rottmnt donnie x reader#rottmnt mikey x reader#rottmnt raph x reader#rise leo x reader#rise donnie x reader#rise mikey x reader#rise raph x reader#neon leon#don tron#big red#mystic mike#the boys
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cw: crack but also cute, i think. reader has a specified magic, and she and mash are friends (for now). reader's a bit preoccupied with his diet. a bit of medical talk.
Mash is three bites into a cream puff when you put away the last of your pantry essentials, and turn to look at him, a slight frown on your face.
He’s done the legwork of your grocery shopping run, bringing everything into your apartment in one trip, and now, baked good in hand, he’s looking idly in your direction. You can tell you’ve exhausted him all morning with your chatter, but he’d deny it if you asked him, claiming he’s content to hear whatever you have to say.
You are now tasked with the job of convincing yourself that that’s true, but Mash doesn’t lie, and it is particularly hard to lie to you anyway. You lean over your counter as you watch him sit atop your barstool, kicking his feet practically, and when he catches you watching him finally, his eyes soften as he inquires what you have to say.
“Mm?”
You almost feel bad for spoiling his happiness when you say, “Mash, I think we should talk about your diet.”
He blinks, and takes four more bites, rapidly in succession. He knows exactly what you mean.
“There’s nothing wrong with my diet.”
He’s eating faster now, and before you can open your mouth the cream puff is gone. There are at least three more stowed away from the supermarket bakery this morning, sitting in your fridge, that he absolutely plans to leave with. Not that you can stop him, or would.
But it’s your duty to say something.
Moving in closer to talk to him, you pull up the other barstool and rest your elbow on the counter to prop up your chin. Now you’re eye to golden eye, and his expression is unchanged, neutral as always but he’s focused on you.
“I know you like them, but you can’t live off of flour and sugar, Mash.”
He blinks again. “Why not?”
You scrunch your nose. “Diabetes? Which leads to heart disease, stroke, poor arterial circulation, retinopathy, renal failure…” your fingers tap the desk with every disease, but your voice trails off as you can see his eyes glaze over and you let yourself sigh internally before stopping. “I’m wasting my time with this, aren’t I?” you say, not annoyed but somewhat defeated. You’ve looked away for a moment, but when you look back, you’re not sure when he moved, but there’s another cream puff in hand.
“Mash!”
“Mm?”
You grit your teeth. “At least consider what I have to say for a second.”
Through bites, he insists, “No, you totally have a point but my nutrition is fine.” He swallows, then pats his left chest. “Mike and Kevin have not brought anything to my attention.”
It’s your turn to give him a blank look, but Mash never ceases to surprise you, and if you don’t say something fast, he’ll tell you about the rest of his muscles’ thoughts and feelings.
“Right but long term, Mash.”
“Mm.” He smiles, accepting your concern for him. “Show me where I’m unhealthy then.”
Mash stands and raises his arms in a T-pose, and unable to help it, you burst out laughing. Of course, you can’t find any flaw - every extent of his body remains as chiseled and developed as the day you first met him, and the fact that he even looks so seriously willing to participate is so laughable.
“I-” you’ve run out of ways to defend your stance, but then you shake your head.
“You know that’s not what I mean-”
Somehow in the time that you closed your eyes and shook your head to recollect yourself, he’s started doing push-ups. You give him an appraising look, then go to the fridge and pull out a cabbage from the crisper.
Without bothering to ask, you settle down on his back once he’s slowed for a moment, and he continues, this time slow enough that you won't topple off of him.
“Okay, how about if I turn this choux into choux cream?”
He pauses in the up position, and cranes his neck up in your direction.
“I’m listening.”
“Good.” He descends again, and you make yourself more comfortable on his back, tucking your legs in.
“I use my magic to make you feel like you’re eating a cream puff, but it’s actually a nutritious vegetable.”
“Mm.”
He stops, and you jump off of him, and then he takes the cabbage from you in his right hand as you stand before him. Looking from the cabbage to you, he asks:
“So you’ll replicate the entire experience of a cream puff in this cabbage?”
You nod. “Like this.”
You touch his hand gently, whisper your incantation, and in Mash’s eyes, the cabbage now has the appearance of a perfectly appetizing cream puff in his hand, far better appearing than the one he just had, and far too eager, he brings it to his mouth, spitting out immediately when it’s a raw cabbage and not his favorite food in his mouth.
“Unpleasant.”
You grimace.
“Shit, I think I need stronger magic,” you murmur to yourself. Scratching your chin, you realize that taste might require a bit closer contact.
“Mash.”
Mash has set the half-bitten cabbage back down and is now in your fridge to cleanse his palate with another cream puff.
“Wait!”
He turns to the sound of your voice, mouth full, and you sigh. Walking towards him, you take the cream puff out of his mouth and set that on a plate too, right next to the cabbage.
Moving to the sink to wash your hands, you ask, “Can you let me try again? I just need permission to touch your cheek or tongue in order to make sure your taste buds get involved in the illusion.”
You turn and look at him, once your hands are dry, and you shake them out, and he looks at you contemplatively.
You raise an eyebrow.
“Can I or-”
Suddenly he steps forward, and gently takes your face in his hands, and before you know it, he’s kissed you. Tongue in your mouth, sweet and swirling quickly; it’s over almost as quickly as it began.
You hold your breath, but he’s reached for the cabbage now, and bites into it.
“It worked.”
The look on his face is pleasant and unfazed, unlike you. Your heart races for a moment, but soon you remember to breathe and air fills your lungs again.
All that’s left to say, your cheeks warmed, is, “I’m glad.”
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The relationship / dynamic between TSAMS Sun and Solar is so important to me I'm going to explode like you're really just going to drop the fact that Solar's mindscape is literally shaped after a scene from Charlie and the chocolate factory not because he likes the movie (well, he off handily comments on it 'I did like the mike TV section I guess' but last part comes off as him trying to justify why his mind is based off of it rather than him actually confirming that he enjoys the movie) but because he watched it with ,assumedly, his Sun?? Solar doesn’t specify which Sun he is speaking of (technically, he normally does clarify if he's talking about his home dimension so he's probably talking about our Sun rather than his but let me pretend)
(Putting a cut because this ended up way longer than I thought it was)
Also, personal head cannon for why Sun hasn't really been around on TSAMS since Eclipse came back is because Solar would never forgive himself if he even let the possibility of his brother/cousin getting hurt by himself happen again. Solar has already expressed guilt about how he believes his Sun’s fate is his fault (which it totally wasn’t!! His Sun knew the risks and chose to put himself at risk for Solar’s sake, which honestly shows how close they were that they’d both sacrifice themselves for each other), there’s absolutely no way he’d let another Eclipse hurt a Sun. Like Solar would have literally sacrificed himself for the chance of his Sun getting better as seen back when Eclipse came back the first time and Moon wanted to blow him up with the satellite where he only asks Moon to try to fix his Sun in return for him litterally dying (Which I'm pretty sure Moon never does??) and the fact that he was (sort of) willing to have his original body taken apart by his Moon in the hopes that his Sun would be able to use it
Sun and Solar rarely have one on one interactions (honestly, the only time that really comes to mind is the candy corn video but even then Solar was sort of forced into that situation as he probably wouldn’t be able to get out of the day care without getting eaten or something lol) which I personally think is because of Solar’s guilt, whether it’s because seeing Sun reminds him of his Sun and what happened to him or if he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be friends with Sun after what he feels he did (which could also be why he distances himself from the rest of the family by making himself the ‘cousin’ even though the others see him as close, Moon calls him 'family' when he gives Solar his house address (which is obviously very important and personal information, showing how much he trusts him) and Earth and Lunar list him as their ‘sibling’ in their tier list video) or both
(Apologies if this comes off as very sporadic, it's just the first time putting it into words JFAWJKFKJWAKFJ Like every time I think about this I have to go pace around to calm down like ???? hello???)
#I will hunt you down if you think Solars gonna go through an evil arc#I didn't rewatch the videos my bad if I mix certain events up#losing it#VecRamble#tw death#the sun and moon show#tsams#myposts#sun tsams#solar tsams#tsams solar#solar sams#sams solar#sun and moon show#sams sun#sams nice eclipse#VecText
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I feel like if Steve had performed CPR on Eddie while Nancy drove the RV back to the hospital and brought Eddie back, Eddie would be bragging about Steve kissing him and Steve having a crush on him. He'd be an absolute menace about it.
"It wasn't a kiss. It was CPR!" Steve would yell.
"Sure, Stevie, and I'm sure everyone in here believes that," Eddie would wink at him from his hospital bed. "I've seen Nancy, I'm definitely your type."
Robin's laughing about it along with everyone else, thinking it was just a joke for Eddie, and she could tell that Steve wasn't actually hurt by it because if he was, Robin would kick Eddie's ass.
"This is a kiss!" Steve exclaimed and slammed his lips to Eddie's before quickly pulling back. "What I did was breathe air into your lungs. . . What?"
"Oh," Eddie breathed softly as he touched his lips.
Robin's eyes were wide as she looked at Steve like everyone else did. Okay, she knew about her best friend, but she did not think he would do that.
"Steve, you just kissed Eddie," Dustin said.
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't really think about it because everyone pretty much knows about me. . . ," Steve said. "And they're cool with it."
"No, harm, Steve. It's just a kiss between friends. I kiss Jeff all the time. He thinks it's funny," Eddie said, laughing. "I don't actually think you're gay for me, Steve."
"Well, no, I'm not gay for you," Steve said.
"Yeah, I know, I just said that," Eddie scoffed. "You need to get your hearing checked, man."
"I'm actually partially deaf in one ear," Steve replied and Eddie sighed, looking guilty.
"HI, I'm Eddie Munson. Sometimes I put my giant ass foot in my mouth," he said, holding out his hand, and Steve took it, smiling in amusement. "Sorry, man."
"It's alright. No harm," Steve said, grinning. "While, I'm not gay for you. I am completely bisexual for you."
"You're what?"
"Bisexual."
"What?"
"BI - SEX - UAL," Steve sounded out. "Jesus, now who's the deaf one?"
"Okay. I don't know what that means. Wait! Hold on! I think I can figure this one out," Eddie said. "Okay, so if bilingual means that you speak more than one language, then bisexual must mean. . .Do you like more than one sex?"
Steve grinned, tapped his nose and pointed at him.
"Wow," Robin said with wide eyes.
"Give him a break, Robin. He's on a lot of pain medication," Dustin said. "He got there, didn't he?"
"So, if bisexual is a thing that means that me checking out Jeff's ass wasn't because I liked his jeans!" Eddie exclaimed.
Steve scowled and crossed his arms, scoffing as he turned away from Eddie.
"Jeff," Steve said angrily. "He didn't kiss you back to life."
"I thought you said it was CPR," Max said.
"Eddie, man, I think you're making Steve jealous," Lucas said.
Eddie grinned at Steve's back, and his eyes landed on his ass.
"You know, whenever Jeff and I used to get high in the back of my van, we'd get really handsy with each other. Now that I think about it, that wasn't very straight of me," Eddie giggled. "Maybe when I get out of here, I should ask him out."
Steve whirled around with his hands on his hips.
"Are you fucking kidding me, right now, Munson?" Steve asked and Eddie laughed.
"Lucas is right. You are jealous," Eddie said. "Me and Jeff never did any of that. Baby, the only man I want to get handsy with in the back of my van is you."
"Really?" Steve asked.
"Yeah," Eddie said.
Steve leaned down to kiss him, Eddie welcoming it gladly.
"I'm not sure if I say 'aww' or try to burn the image of our babysitter getting felt up by our dungeon master in the back of his van," Mike scowled.
Robin rolled her eyes as she started to push everyone out of the room. It was just in time too because she's pretty sure her best friend just got goosed.
"Eddie!"
#stranger things#eddie munson#stranger things s4#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#bisexual steve harrington#bisexual eddie munson#bi4bi#robin buckley#lesbian robin buckley#the party#dustin henderson#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#mike wheeler#el is off spending time with her father who just came back to life#nancy is working on a positive article about Eddie#argyle is. . .trying to find a good pizza place nearby#the rest of corroded coffin visited before so. . .jeff missed that conversation#stranger things fanfiction#rueleigh writes
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IDEA
Mike vs. Spicy food
oh how weak i am for white boys
the food you cook isn't spicy. sure, there'll be an occasional chili flake added for a tiny bit of kick, but it's not spicy.
a little bit too much falls out of the container, though, pieces too small for you to recover. but you taste it and still find it mild, so you shrug it off and finish the meal.
the extra spices have no effect on abby, who gets through her entire plate with a shy smile that means she wants seconds. so your clumsiness hadn't ruined the dish; you breathe a sigh of relief.
it's not until mike comes home from work and fixes himself a plate that you worry, his loud coughs and red face sending you into a panic while he downs his cup of water. you think he's choked on his food until he asks how much spice you added - and the worry has dissolved into laughter.
mike doesn't appreciate your teasing, abby coming in to let him know that she had no criticisms of your dish - just to rub it in further.
"i'm not- it's delicious," mike insists, going in for a second bite. he focuses hard on the flavor rather than the way his mouth feels like it's been set on fire, chasing it down with cool water that only temporarily soothes.
"mike, don't force yourself," you chide, moving to take his plate.
"no, no-" mike is interrupted by his own coughing, his own throat betraying him.
you give him a knowing look and move to pull the food towards you; you were planning on eating some more with mike, anyway.
"it really is good," mike insists with a frown.
"it is," you quip. "too bad you have absolutely no spice tolerance."
"hey, i do!" mike scoffs. "i can eat that normally, and that's pretty spicy."
you stare at mike with a grin of disbelief, shaking your head. "mike, it's normally not spicy. like, at all."
mike's expression falls and you burst into laughter.
"okay, okay. can you eat hot chips?"
"don't like them."
"buldok noodles?"
"i think those would kill me."
"is it bad that i kind of want to see that?"
"you're the one who'd lose a boyfriend."
you laugh, loudly. "i can't believe i never knew this."
"okay, i'm not that bad." mike insists.
"worse than abby," you grin.
mike groans, dropping his face into his palms. "you're the worst."
you giggle. "i love you! and am never going to stop making fun of you!"
you pull mike's hands away from his face to give him a gentle kiss on his still-warm cheek. "you're cute."
mike bites back a smile, feigning indifference.
"my family is going to completely destroy you."
mike's smile drops.
bonus:
"think you can handle a bite?" you hold up a small bunch of noodles covered in a dark sauce.
mike scoffs. they didn't look that bad. he nods, moving closer to let you feed him a bite.
he doesn't even get halfway through the bite.
"what... is that?" mike heaves out, racing for the ice cream in the freezer. he's shoving spoonfuls into his mouth as he hunches over the sink, breathing heavily. "it... feels like.... hell in... my mouth!"
mike shakes his head as you laugh, coming up behind him and rubbing his back.
"how can you eat that?" mike's voice is muffled through the mouthful of ice cream, his chest heaving as he tries to collect his breath.
you're having trouble catching your breath, too; all the laughing has winded you. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you gasp out, arms encircling mike's waist.
mike spins in your hold, facing you and wrapping his arms around you. "that was a murder attempt."
"you agreed to try!"
mike shakes his head and you reach for his face, wiping a little bit of ice cream residue from his lips. "aww, honey," you coo with a grin.
"you're mocking me."
"i'm not!" you laugh, but you're clearly not convincing. "i'll make it up to you."
mike hums, pressing his face in the crook of your neck. "i guess i accept."
you laugh again, quietly, kissing just under mike's ear softly.
"bland," you whisper softly.
"okay!" mike splits from you, your laughter echoing behind him as he heads to the bathroom. you'd only just caught your breath when you hear mike call:
"that stained my lips!"
masterlist | requests are open!
#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt#mike schmidt fluff#go white boy go#five nights at freddy's#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf x reader#josh hutcherson x reader#josh hutcherson#v + mike#v writes
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home is where the heart is
↠ pairing: wonwoo x reader
↠ genres: fluff
↠ word count: 900~
↠ a/n: thinking abt bestfriend!wonwoo today 🥺 also ty to @hannieween who always reads all the little drabbles i type into her inbox, that’s how we ended up with this. she also helped write part of it, the an at the bottom will explicitly say which bits!! hope you guys like it uwu
bestfriend!wonwoo who keeps you company after your break up with your shitty ex boyfriend.
bestfriend!wonwoo who lets you lean on his shoulder while you guys watch the latest episode of bake off and you’re ugly crying with a tub of ur favourite ice cream.
how he tries to distract you the next day by inviting you to play mario party because some of the boys are over and he doesn't want you to wallow in your room by yourself.
the way, after the boys leave, he takes you into his arms while on the couch and letting you snuggle into the warmth of his chest as you sniffle a little. wonwoo smells like fresh laundry and he rubs a comforting hand up and down your back.
to you, wonwoo was home.
this is basically yours and wonwoo’s dynamic haha.
and he would never admit it out loud, but he honestly loves it. he loves as you ramble mindlessly, asking him pointless questions about nothing and everything at all. he remains quiet, but every now and then he’ll say is that so? setting you off on another tangent.
you laugh at your own jokes, which makes him laugh as well. it's the kind of laugh that makes his nose scrunch and makes him push the rim of his glasses up a bit.
and when ur away for the weekend, visiting ur parents, and wonu is home alone, the silence is deafening, and he misses you.
he misses you during breakfast, how you'd grumble about having to go to work and rant about the woes of capitalism and the five day work week.
he misses you when he's rewatching the previous episode of bake off on the cold couch alone, and how you'd be telling him about the history of shortbread and something about an alliance between scotland and france.
he misses you when he's out walking the dog after dinner and how you'd be talking his ear off about every little thing that happened to you that day, in chronological order.
wonwoo's life is quiet and greyscale when you're not there and he misses the colour of your laugh and your smile and the sound of your voice.
one night, he finally convinces you to go out to the movies with him. you've been feeling better lately, and you can't remember the last time you cried about your ex.
he buys you the biggest tub of popcorn, making sure the worker slathers it with extra extra butter (even though he knows its gonna give him a tummy ache later). and he watches you fondly as you try to choose between the buncha crunch or mike and ikes (his two favourites) before settling on both.
he also gets you a cola slushie, but your hands get cold from holding the cup, making you clasp them together between your thighs when you finally go to sit down, and he wishes, god how he wishes, he could just grab your hands to warm them up a bit.
you guys decide to see the latest action movie, a genre which you love, but sometimes you can't handle the blood and gore that comes with it. so when the bad guy's about to get sliced to hell, wonwoo quickly throws his hand up to cover your eyes.
you grab his hands to move it away because im a big girl, wonu, i can handle a little blood (except your pants are on fire and you absolutely cannot) but he knows this and does not budge.
and when the scene is finally over and he moves his hand away from your face, you're still holding on to it, not letting go
wonwoo sends you a look but you've got ur eyes glued to the movie, as if holding his hand is a normal occurance (it's not) and you're not freaking out like wonwoo currently is (you are, in fact, freaking the fuck out).
wonwoo settles back in his seat, loving the way your hands feel around his and laces his fingers with yours. you keep his hand in your lap, squeezing everytime sometimes stressful or surprising happens on screen and wonwoo rubs back and forth on the back of your hand when you do.
when the movies over, you still don't let go of his hand, and neither does he. not when you’re picking up ur bag to sling over your shoulder, not when he's picking up the empty food boxes to throw away, and not when you're walking home together in the cool of the night, as you rehash the movie ending, swinging your hands between you when you get a little too excited with your theories
you're both still unwilling to let go of each other's hands when you make it back to your shared apartment, as wonwoo keys in the door code, and it isn't until you're in the hallway, in front of your two bedroom doors, that you realise neither of you want to ever let go.
so you don't.
you let wonwoo hold onto you tightly while you tell him you had a lot of fun tonight and he replies saying he always has fun when he's with you. and you get on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, both of your cheeks warming up.
and it isn't until then that wonwoo let's go of your hand, choosing to instead grab your face with both of his and leaning down to kiss you sweetly
wonwoo tastes like a mix of movie theater butter, fruity candy and salted chocolate.
and best of all, wonwoo tastes like home.
a/n: this is my first time writing something in this sort of format! let me know what you think!! also the first part aboutt he rambling and the bit aboutt he cola slushie are courtesy of v, she's really fab and you all should go read her writing 👀👀👀
here are some lil extra bits that i didn't put into the drabble but i still think are cute to think abt hehe
gif 1 by @jeonsupershy // this wonu when he finally gets the girl he's loved all his life
gif 2 by @meowonhao-main // this wonu when you shyly nod yes to wonu asking you out to a real dinner date
this wonu (yes, im obsessed w this photo leave me alone) when you climb into his lap to snuggle after a really shitty day at work
this wonu when you whine that his kisses are too sweet and you want him to kiss you like a man
this wonu when he's about to ask you to marry him and legally be stuck w his loser gamer ass for the rest of ur life
u when u say yes because he's YOUR loser gamer ass and u love him so SO much 🥺🥺🥺
#seventeen fic#wonwoo x reader#seventeen x reader#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo fanfic#writing#mine#title: home is where the heart is#author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee#band: svt#member: wonwoo
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Can you do a post about how each character reacts to you getting cussed out by your parents for no reason? Please pookie 🙏🙏
a/n: i made this super quick so im sorry if it’s rough.
mike schmidt would glare at them from across the table. in this scenario, you would be at dinner over at your parents’ place. mid dinner they would find a reason to scold you in a harsh manner, you become tense and embarrassed not even wanting to glance over at mike. he would notice this, he would hate the tone your parents used with you, he would drop his silverware down onto his plate not caring about the annoyingly loud sound that comes from his utensils and the porcelain plate. he wouldn’t say anything to them, he would glare at them, his brows furrowed and his eyes piercing black and then stand up, the chair screeching horribly against the tile. “we’re leaving,” he’d announce, grabbing your hand. he knew you didn’t want to be in the situation, he knew you didn’t deal well with being scolded but especially being insulted by your own parents. he would apologise, telling you how you don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to, how he’ll make sure to take care for you.
derek danforth is usually a dickhead let’s be real. but. the moment he catches your parents telling you off from afar he’s quick to approach you. “what the fuck is going on?” he asks, clearly upset. you look over at derek ready to apologise on behalf of you and your parents, then: “get the fuck out before i fucking call security.” he grabs you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you away from the scenery, he could tell how overwhelmed you were by the situation with the mere look on your face. “you alright, sweetheart?”
peeta mellark will hate hearing them tell you off. like mike, he’ll say nothing but definitely excuse the two of you. when your parents call after you, he’ll turn around to them, shielding you with his body, his hand intertwined with yours. “don’t,” he’ll warn, glaring at them. he’ll take you home, he’ll bake you your favourite pastry, and apologise to you. you tell him he has nothing to apologise for, that you’re used to it but he’ll insist it’s not fair you’re so used to being treated like that by them.
josh futterman is definitely surprised. his parents have never told him off once so when he hears the tone your parents use with you…and the words they use…he goes still. his brows furrow, eyes flickering towards you and your parents. “hey, don’t talk to her like that,” he scoffs at them. then he’ll look over at you, eyes going soft for you: “do you wanna go?” he’ll be so gentle with you, he can see how horribly you’re feeling. he’ll make sure to pepper kisses all over your face when your home, reminding you how much he loves you.
billy (burn 2019) will not hesitate to tell your parents off lmao. he has a temper, remember? he doesn’t care about being polite or “modest” anymore, the moment he heard the way they spoke to you all respect he had for your parents is gone. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so angry. he’ll drag you away from them handling you gently, of course. on the drive back home, he’ll hold your hand, and though his gaze his focused on the road he’ll go off telling you how he can’t believe your parents, how you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, how unfair they were, and so on. he’ll apologise later for losing his temper, kissing you softly.
clapton davis won’t say anything at all. i mean, he can’t really interfere here. but, he’ll try his absolute best to make you feel better. he’ll take you to his place, he assumes you probably want to be away from home, and once you agree he knows he was right. he lays with you in his bed, your head on his chest while he comfortingly pets your head while you tell him about your parents and how awful you feel about their words. he comforts you the entire time, telling you sweet nothings along with making a couple horrible jokes that end up making you laugh.
#mike schimdt x reader#mike schmidt#mike schimdt x you#mike schmidt comfort#mike schmidt angst#derek danforth x you#derek danforth#derek danforth x reader#josh futturman#josh futterman x reader#josh futterman comfort#clapton davis#clapton x reader#clapton davis x you#peeta mellark#peeta mallark x reader#peeta mellark comfort#josh hutcherson fanfic#josh hutcherson x reader#mike schmidt fluff#mike schmidt x you
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Ello! Can I request Fnaf movie Mike meeting like a Homeless kid who lives in the pizzeria who gives him tips and tricks to survive headcanons? Basically to confuse the robots they like wear the head of a offbrand/prototype Crow animatronic? They just chill and goof around but remain out of sight from the famous man behind the slaughter and his daughter? :3
Ever since you've made Freddy Fazbear's Pizza into your "home", you quickly learned the ins and outs of the establishment.
You knew what times the animatronics automatically started their shows, where all the security camera blindspots were, how to make a pizza quick and easy, etc.
Above all else, however, you knew how to avoid those robots so they didn't try to make you like them.
Normally, they'd be protective over children--they weren't hostile because you were a homeless kid breaking in and living there.
It's the missing kids themselves.
They've visited your dreams, and every time it ends the same way: with Cassidy asking if you wanted to "join" them and getting frustrated when you refused.
You learned what happened to them and communicated via drawings for a while...until you accidentally broke something, which made them assume you were deliberately trying to destroy the place.
So you've been playing a sort of cat-and-mouse game since, often pranking them and thwarting their attempts to capture you, but never meaning anything ill by it.
If anything, they seem to like these little games, too.
After reading some old employee handbooks, you discovered that the animatronics have a programming glitch that makes them confuse humans for endoskeletons without suits on--and they'd use lethal ways to "fix" them.
Conveniently, you've found a costume head of a crow (likely from a partner of Freddy's or some ripoff brand) backstage, and after successfully tricking Foxy with it...you realized how helpful this could be to the security guards who've applied here and "vanished".
Fastforward to when you meet Mike, fully aware he's the next guard to possibly die (the last one got himself killed before you could even properly warn him in advance--not that he would have believed you anyways).
He's understandably concerned bc you're just a kid who's all alone here with no family, and given his trauma....he suddenly feels like he needs to protect you.
Instead, though, it's the opposite.
"Slide that toolbox in front of the floor vent."
He eyes you strangely, wondering why a kid was bossing him around. "...why?"
"Trust me."
The second Mike does that, he jumps as something starts growling and slamming against the vent's grates, clearly trying to get out and failing as it retreats soon after.
"What the hell was that??"
"Probably just rats." You innocently shrug. "Or Mr. Cupcake who seems especially hungry tonight."
"I'm sorry....the cupcake moves?"
You realize he's absolutely clueless, so you tell him about the animatronics and their routines, showing him the crow costume head.
He's impressed that you know so much about this place (like you were an employee), but he doesn't believe they're capable of doing any harm until later on.
When he brings Abby, you easily see through the facade they're all putting on for her, but you play along with their antics while building the pillow fort (although you avoid talking or looking at Vanessa, never trusting her nor the yellow rabbit your "friends" spoke of).
During the final night where you both rescue her from Chica, you urge Mike to use the crow mask to trick Bonnie and Freddy.
He was certain it'll never work.
They couldn't be that dumb....surely they'll know it's him trying to sneak backstage..
Plus the mask was stuffy and heavy, and he just think it's easier to taze them.
But at your insistence, he tries it on and is shocked when they stare at him for a moment, before continuing their scheduled "show", completely unaware of his ruse.
It does make him wonder how you figured that out all on your own..
#clanask#anonymous#fnaf x reader#five nights at freddy's x reader#fnaf movie x reader#fnaf mike#child reader#platonic#headcanons
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