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janitorhutcherson · 5 months

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bedtime with mike and abby ( mike schmidt x reader)

hi guys! this is my first ever lil fic/imagine/blurb here!! if y'all like this, I'll keep it up. I'm also new to tumblr, so please please be patient with me. in the future i'd love to do requests.

also if someone wants to help me with formatting/be friends, just shoot me a msg :p

this is just a quick lil imagine/blurb. I've seen so many smutty fics and i wanted to spice it up w/ some fluff. just sleepy time on mike's night off! on w the fic :p

*edit* this isn’t revised!! i threw something together last min and posted cause i felt like writing lol. don’t mind the typos

word count: 1,633

warnings: none! just fluff, angst if u squint!!

summary: nighttime with mike and abby on his day off!

Most of the time, you, your boyfriend Mike, and his little sister Abby were on entirely different schedules. Mike worked nights at a shitty gas station job for the time being after his job at Freddy's was... well.. no more for obvious reasons. Even though he swore off the night shift, this was necessary until he could find something better. Jobs were sparse at the moment, and Mike's history didn't exactly make him a star candidate.

A typical night would consist of you making the three of you dinner, slowly forcing Abby to venture out when it came to her taste buds. Recently, she'd taken a liking to tacos. You and Mike would make a joint effort to get her ready for bed earlier together, as Mike was more particular about being there for her since the incident. She'd get a bath, get into her jammies, and the two of you would tuck her in with a bedtime story. You'd both kiss her little forehead goodnight, then kiss your boyfriend on his lips before sending him off.

Most nights, you tossed and turned in your sleep, unable to rest properly without Mike by your side. A painfully dull feeling would rest in your stomach, the lack of his warmth beside you agonizing. You'd spend all night waiting for 6am to roll around as you felt the bed dip on his side, barely stirring you from your sleep. You'd have thirty minutes until your alarm went off, thirty minutes to wrap yourself up into him before you once again went on your separate ways... living your separate lives until you could have your few hours of union later on.

But tonight, you were lucky. Mike had gotten the next few days off. His job was being extra kind as they actually recognized the hard work Mike put in, something he wasn't used to. They'd told him someone would take over for a bit, to enjoy himself, to rest. It may have been a low-paying, trashy, borderline dangerous job, but his boss was nice, and the customers were certainly safer to deal with than those at the pizzeria.

You called out sick from work, not wanting to miss a single second with your little trio. You'd both even made the decision to pull Abby out of school for the day, spending it building forts, watching movies, and eating ice cream. The three of you even went out rollerskating, Mike awkwardly tumbling every few seconds on the rink as Abby would bust out laughing at him. The three of you were now sat around on the couch, Mike smooshed into the far side of the armrest as your entire body lay on his, Abby's head resting in your lap as she sleepily blinked her eyes. She'd already had her bath, brushed her teeth, and all three of you were in your pajamas.

"So, everyone have a good day?" Mike asked, turning his head to the two of you with a small but sleepy smile.

"Mhm," Abby hummed quietly, slowly nodding her head against your lap. It was clear that she was moments from passing out, and once Abby was out, she was impossible to get up without a fight.

"Okay, I think it's time for bed," you giggled, slowly lifting your own head up from Mike's shoulder. Mike nodded in agreement, a laugh of his own escaping his lips.

You both slowly pulled Abby up, getting her up on her feet, her half asleep state making her delirious as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring back at the two of you in confusion.

"C'mon, Abs, it's time for bed," Mike muttered, standing up. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up with him. You stood as well, following Mike as he led Abby to her room. She crawled up into her bed, her little body tucking under her blankets as the two of you sat on both sides of her.

"Want a bedtime story?" Mike asked, raising his eyebrows as he leaned down to press a small kiss to Abby's forehead. Abby's lips parted to answer, but before she could, her eyes were closed and she was out. A sincere and quiet chuckle escaped underneath Mike's breath, his eyes full of love for his sister as her stared down at her. You couldn't help but stare, the edges of your mouth turning up into a sleepy smile of your own. He was so majestic, his messy but soft brown curls were laying in every which way on his head. Even though he was much more rested than usual, his eyes were still somewhat sunken in, but to you, that just made him more attractive. His scruff was messy, unshaven, but it managed to highlight his jawline. The sparkle that remained in his eyes, even through it all, after everything that he'd been through, warmed you to your core, your love for him overwhelming.

"What?" Mike asked quietly with a smile still plastered on his lips, his eyes now locked on yours. A blush crossed your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught, your eyebrows raising.

“Nothin’,” you hummed, shaking your head. “Just admiring you.” Your hand reached out to his as the two of you went to your own bedroom, the only light now lighting up your house being the moonlight and street lamps peeking through the blinds. You both crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over your bodies.

There was nothing but silence other than the sound of the fan in your room, the hum almost hypnotic as you wrapped yourself up in his arms. Your head rest against his chest as he instantly tugged you closer, his back flat on the bed as his hand cradled your side. His thumb drew small figure eights on your shoulder. Your body felt fuzzy, a type of relaxation you hadn’t felt at night in a while. Mike made you feel safe. On nights where you two were able to just snuggle up, nothing could buzz in your mind. Anxious thoughts disappeared, even the ones that seemed to be a constant in the back of your brain. There was nothing but a warmness in your mind and a beam of love in your heart.

“Hey, baby?” You heard Mike ask softly, his voice cracking from his sleepiness. You were broken from your train of thought by this, looking up at the man with the sleepy eyes. “Hm?” You hummed in response, your eyes fluttering, but he couldn’t see due to the lack of light. Mike sat up, pulling you up with him as he grabbed your hands, both of your faces now lit up by the light peeking through the cracks in your curtain.

“I- I know we don’t get nights like these much, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m never home, I’m sorry you have to do so much for you and Abby alone. I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess with Freddy’s, got you involved in so much of this,” he said, his voice seeping with sadness and regret. His eyes held an even softer emotion than they did earlier, one that felt like a knife to your chest. “Most importantly, I’m sorry I can’t be the boyfriend I should be. I mean, we should be spending our nights out at clubs, going out on special dates and vacations, and I hate that I’m unable to give you that,” he sniffled, a tear now falling down his eye.

You leaned forward, a frown on your lips as your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes locked on his as you placed your hand on his cheek, wiping away the tear with your thumb as you shook your head. Mike’s own two much larger hands were now placed on both of your cheeks as he continued. “But listen, Y/N, I love you, more than I have ever loved anyone, okay? I- I’m not good at this shit, I know I’m not. I’m clumsy and I’m bad at emotions. I don’t always know what I want or what I need, but I know I don’t only want you, but I need you. You came into my life and you brightened it where it was the darkest. You brought happiness back, you made me understand what joy was again, what it was like to feel.. complete. You saved me, but..” he trailed off again, full on tears falling down his cheeks now. “Most importantly, you saved Abby, made her feel whole again too, gave her somethin’ like a mother, something I couldn’t give her,” he said, his voice breaking at the end. Before he could say another word, you wrapped around arms around him, pulling him into a massive bear hug. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, your mind not even focused on the salty tears and the snotty nose that was leaned up against your shoulder. Your hands rubbing his back as you kissed the top of his head.

“Oh, baby..” you whispered softly, squeezing him like if you let go he’d disappear. “You know I love you so much too…” you finished, pulling his face up by his chin, pressing a soft, gentle but electric kiss to his lips. The two of you then settled back into bed, curling up in each other’s arms as he played with your hair, occasionally leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, small sniffles still leaving his nose from the emotional moment. He was right, it was rare you got moments like these together, but when you did, you cherished them. It took about thirty minutes of sweet nothings and cuddles before the two of you drifted off, in your own little dream worlds filled with many nights like these.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #michael schmidt #michael schmidt x reader

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stevieschrodinger · 7 months

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Part Four - Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU - Final chapter/complete

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

The kids are quiet in the back.

There ended up being ten of them. Once Steve realized that eight people would not fit in his car, he talked to Nancy. Nancy sighed out of her nose the way she does, but Steve already knew she was going to say yes, especially with Mike ready to literally throw himself at her feet to beg.

And then obviously Jonathan had to come along. Turns out he actually, really, genuinely likes Corroded Coffin and was as excited as the kids to learn Steve had tickets. Well, excited in that understated, no energy for anything ever way that Jonathan has about him.

So yeah, Mike went with Nancy and Jonathan, which meant Dustin and Will got pushed in that direction. Steve could breathe a sigh of relief; that left him with Max, El, and Lucas. The sensible ones. The nice ones.

If you ignore how scathing Max could be. So the girls have an earbud each from Max’s phone and Lucas seems to be content to stare out of the window while Max stoically pretends they aren’t holding hands.

It’s cute.

Robins’ looking at the side of his face, Steve can feel it. He raises an eyebrow, ‘what?’

Robin raises both her eyebrows tips her whole head in question, ‘how you feeling?’

Steve shrugs, tilts his head dismissively. The he rethinks his answer for a more honest one, lifting one hand off the wheel to, out of sight of the kids, make a rocking gesture, ‘so-so.’

Robin nods sympathetically, seeming content with his answer, ‘that’s fair.’

He’d told Robin, obviously, that he’d hit it off with a customer and developed a monster crush and hopefully fingers and toes crossed that customer liked him back. He had not told her who Eddie actually is though, because even though it’s Robin and Steve did once get her to look at his dick because he thought something looked weird, (“It looks weird Steve, it’s a dick.” “Yeah, but weird like, see a doctor weird?”) and they have literally no secrets between them...this isn’t his secret.

Until tonight.

And Steve had to tell her just because tonight he might...actually get to meet Eddie. For real.

Once she’d finished squealing and beating him with a pillow, she’d understood.

So.

Steve’s kind of got a hurricane worth of butterflies in him.

Steve has detailed instructions and a QR code in the form of the email he printed from Eddie. All the kids laughed at him because ‘no one prints tickets any more, Steve’ but he was nervous, okay? And phone batteries can die or the internet could not work or. Yeah. He wanted a sure thing.

So they all go to the gate that the email says, and when the QR code gets scanned the woman with the scanner points off to the side, “can you wait there please,” and then pulls out a walkie talkie and speaks into it, “Steve Harrington has arrived.”

There’s a blast of static which, presumably, she understands, and then she goes back to doing her job. Less than five minutes later, five minutes filled with everyone but Robin demanding, “what the actual fuck, Steven,” someone else arrives. A guy with a tablet, a headset, and a very, very 100% done look on his face shows up. He’s wearing Corroded Coffin merch and asks the group to follow along. Which they do.

They’re led along white washed corridors, clearly under the stadium, and get dropped off in a room. A room with a TV on, and snacks and drinks, “this is all for you, go for it, I’ll be back before the support goes on.” And the dude leaves.

The girls, priorities sorted, lay into the snacks. Dustin and Mike are insisting again, “what the fuck is going on?” and getting ever more obnoxious about it.

Steve, very smugly, informs them that he, “knows a guy,” and settles down with the girls and a bag of Cheetos. He’s going to enjoy this while it lasts, watching Dustin splutter over it is very satisfying.

Steve wasn’t expecting any of this. He’s playing it as cool as he can, but he was expecting to get tickets, see the show, call Eddie after and maybe get to see him. He wasn’t expecting to be perched in seats the have been put at the side of the stage, just for them. Someone keeps checking on them, to bring them drinks and snacks.

He’s probably, right now, less than fifty feet from Eddie Munson. Eddie, who's wearing torn up skin tight jeans, shit kicker boots and nothing else. Eddie, who has his guitar slung at his back as he roars into the microphone.

The crowd are going batshit.

Steve’s slowly going insane. When the stage lights finally, finally go down, Steve thinks, this is it. He’s going to meet Eddie. Now is his moment.

The lights come back up, they play an encore. It’s four fucking songs long. Steve’s pulling his hair out as is genuinely concerned he might be sick.

The kids don’t notice; they’ve all just been given gift bags brimming with merch.

The band come over, once they’re finally done. They’re red faced and sweaty and the kids are all vibrating with excitement but Steve doesn’t care, he just doesn’t, because he can very clearly see Eddie leaving the other way. Disappearing off the other side of the stage. Away from Steve.

Well, fuck that.

Gareth is standing practically right next to Steve, signing the kids merch and talking to them, “where is Eddie?”

All the other members of the band look at Steve, and all of them look sheepish as fuck. “He’s, uhm, you know, busy.”

“Busy,” Steve replies, deadpan. And then it occurs to him. Eddie doesn’t know, so they don’t know. They think they’re keeping Eddie’s secret. “I know. I know it’s him. I want to see him.”

Every member of the band visibly relaxes, “see, I fucking told you he’s worked it out-” Jeff starts.

“Eddie is such a shitty liar,” Gareth agrees.

“Yes, he is. And I know it’s him, and I’ve known for ages, and now he’s…” Steve gestures weakly in the direction Eddie disappeared in.

“Having a meltdown in a greenroom because he thinks you’re going to hate him when you realize he’s been lying to you,” Jeff supplies helpfully.

“What the fuck is happening??” Dustin screeches. Steve pushes him away with a hand on the forehead.

Gareth laughs, “come on man. One way to settle this and honestly, I am so ready for it. I am done with his pining.”

Steve perks up immediately, jogging along after, “he’s been pining?”

Steve is left with a thumbs up, standing in an empty hallway, looking at a very, very unassuming door. He lifts his hand to knock but...can’t.

It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like...like them. So after a few moments of indecision, Steve jogs a little way along the hall and then pulls out his phone, calling Eddie.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Eds.”

“You enjoy the show?”

“I did, yeah, thank you, so so much. The kids loved it too. And all the, you know, extra stuff, it was all amazing...but I had, kind of hoped I’d get to see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie starts slowly. Painfully slowly, “about, about that-”

“Look,” Steve sighs, now genuinely terrified that this is it, and it comes out a little sharper than he means it too but, he's...kind of scared that this thing is going to die before it even starts, “if you don’t want to meet up, I get it.”

“No. No Steve, it isn’t that. It really, really isn’t, it’s just...I might have, withheld something from you. Slightly.”

“Is it that, you're Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin’s front man?”

“You see, the thing is, I’m actually, Eddie, like the lead singer guy of-wait. Wait. Hold up. You- Steve. Stevie. Honey. What?”

“I know who you are Eddie. I’ve known for a while. I’m outside. The room. Like, I'm standing outside the door.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. And then...nothing.

“Eds?” Steve asks, tentatively.

“I was just...you don’t know what it’s like Steve. To be this famous. No one just...treats me like a normal guy. Not ever. Everyone wants something from me, you know? Everyone just thinks I’m rich and famous and I can do things for them. They only ever want to talk about the music and the shows and the fame and...I just...I’m...someone to fuck for bragging rights, not because anyone actually cares...no one. No one ever treats me, like, well, like a person. And you have, Stevie, this whole time you’ve just...been normal. I want someone who likes me for me... And I missed normal so much, and I thought, I was scared that once you found out I’d loose that but...you’ve known this whole time?”

Steve’s heart is kind of breaking for Eddie, and he wants to comfort him, show him nothing’s changing, but he isn’t going to force anything on him, this is Eddie’s choice, “yeah. I’ve known...pretty much the whole time yeah. You’re a...well, absolutely atrocious liar, Eddie Munson.”

“Yeah?” and Jesus he sounds like he’s laughing and crying a little, “are you, did you say you were outside? Are you still-”

“I’m here, right outside the door.”

“I. I, okay. Yeah. Yeah.” And then Eddie hands up.

And for a really long, really long minute, Steve worries that’s it. Eddie’s not going to open the door and-

The door opens slowly, Eddie peeking out at Steve. Steve can’t help laughing. And then Eddie laughs, coming the rest of the way out, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. His eyes are red rimmed, like he’s been crying, and Steve’s desperately trying to blink back the tears himself, “can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice is rough from the gig, much more noticeable now in person, “yeah, I’d like that.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, throwing his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him tight close. Eddie’s more tentative, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and then...nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck. Eddie takes a deep breath and...relaxes against Steve.

They stand there, hugging, Steve’s face buried in Eddie’s sweaty curls, swaying gently together in the quiet hallway.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

@bestwifehaver @estrellami-1 @vampireinthesun @clumsiluni @swimmingbirdrunningrock @uwujinniee @heartdinosblog @overhillunderhill @noodle-shenaniganery @carlprocastinator1000 @danni-phant0m @wxrmland @steddie-as-they-go @i-have-three-feelings @space-invading-pigeon @antonymeanonyme @steddiedreamer @dragonmama76 @honorarybrit81 @punctualhowell @mojowitchcraft

@melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @co5m0 @tinyplanet95

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #baker steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #ficlet #my fic writing #fan fic author #fan fic stuff #ao3 author #wrong number au #complete #complete work

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pinkkittysaw · 5 months

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FIVE NIGHTS AT MIKE’S

pairing: mike schmidt x plus sized! female reader

summary: you spend the night at your boyfriend’s place

word count: 5,735

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI, you will be blocked!) post canon (but still in the year 2000), established relationship, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), minor pussyjob, breast/nipple play, protected sex (use of condom), intimacy kink, both reader and mike have pubes

a/n: does anyone else miss blockbuster? because i do 😔 long live physical media! also i did my due diligence and calculated prices of things to my best of my ability for the year 2000 so even if my price match isn’t EXACT, it’s close. this ended up…unexpectedly softer than i thought it would. never did i think i would be stringing sentences together like this to describe mike from FNAF but alas, here we are ^_^

dividers by @/kimjiho1 & @/saradika

"See ya, rugrat," you say to the eager girl as she hugs both you and her brother at the entrance of their front door. She huffs, only slightly, when you ruffle her brunette curls, sporting a faint pout once she pulls away from your hold. You chuckle, kneeling to her height, before attempting to fix the mess you created, smoothing out the hairs that lay atop her head the best you could.

"Call us if you need anything, okay?" Mike repeats for the nth time that night since Abby started getting ready.

"Yeah, yeah." Abby dismisses her brother completely, heading toward the car parked in the driveway after she decides that her hair looks satisfactory enough.

It was a Friday night, both you and Abby had sleepover plans, her at a friend's house and you over at Mike's. Abby was so devastated when she found out that your sleepovers fell on the same day as each other—intentional planning on both your and Mike's part—that she almost bailed on her school friends. It was only when you promised to have a special girl's night with her the next time you stayed over that she eventually yielded, going through with her original plans for the weekend.

She was initially invited by one of her school friends. After Mike had sat through one of the world's most awkward conversations with Abby's friend's mom—one he made sure to recount once they arrived home—he decided that it was probably in her best interest to let her go out and socialize like this while she was still young enough to do so, despite whatever unspoken worries he had about her going off and spending the night on her own for the first time.

"Love you!" Abby yells from the rear car door before opening it and getting inside. The seats are filled with excitable little girls and one slightly apprehensive mom who smiles at you through the windshield. Though the sound is slightly muffled, Mike repeats the same words back to his sister.

He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but after taking even the tiniest glimpse into their lives, it's obvious that he cares. Whether that's shown through him triple-checking her pack before she leaves for the evening, giving her friend's mom a list of her safe foods so that she doesn't go hungry, or reminding her numerous times that she can always call home if she needs to because no matter how independent she's become, it's okay to still need your older brother. Although you're sure Mike would say that he's anything but a good older brother.

Abby waves to you both as the car pulls out of the lot before she turns back to her friends again. You and Mike stand waving in the entryway as it turns off onto the street, leaving an empty spot in its wake.

"She's come a long way," you comment, turning your head towards him as he continues to stare out onto the pavement.

"Yeah."

You're unable to help the way your eyes roll at his statement, though it's lighthearted in nature. "It's thanks to you, you know." You nudge him in the side with your elbow.

"I think you had a hand in it too," he chuckles, smirking as his eyes meet yours.

"Just accept the compliment, Mike." You pat his shoulder, then turn on your heels to head back indoors, with him following suit.

"So...what should we do now?"

"I got a spare ten; wanna rent a movie?" You reach down for your wallet that's tucked in your overnight bag sprawled on his couch, pulling out the ten-dollar bill and puffing it between your fingers. "Let me treat you, baby," you coo, twirling around with the money in hand.

He scoffs a little at the display but still reaches for his keys and jacket off the rack. "Let's go."

The drive to the video rental store is a short one, as most of your time is spent lip-syncing songs to Mike that play through the static of his shitty radio.

Once you arrive, you divide and concur. Since Mike got to choose the movie last time, it was your turn, leaving him in charge of the snacks. You take your time leisurely perusing through the aisles, trying to find something that looks interesting enough before making your way to the "New Releases" section. It takes a while before anything catches your eye, but as you keep wandering, a title eventually jumps out at you.

You pick up the VHS and make your way over to check it out. Mike's waiting for you at the end of the aisle, his arms filled with popcorn, soft drinks, and candy. The two of you walk side by side over to the counter, where he drops all his snacks, and you slide over the movie. He lifts the corner of the box to look at the title before the case makes its way toward the cashier.

"American Psycho?" He asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." You hand over the cash and your ID. "A coworker of mine said it was good, plus the trailer looked...interesting." You smile. "Why? Are you scared of a little horror film?"

"In your dreams."

"Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

After thanking the cashier and collecting your bagged items, the two of you head back to his car.

It's not long after that the two of you arrive back at Mike's place, having changed out of your day clothes into pajamas.

After feeding the tape into the VCR, you plop back onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions, popcorn in hand, and snuggling into Mike's side.

Around six minutes into the movie, you comment in between bites of popcorn. "I know this movie is rated R, but I honestly wasn't expecting to see Christain Bale's ass."

Mike doesn't say anything in return, just side-eyeing you with a simple "Uh huh."

By the time the credits roll, both of your tummies are full of salty popped kernels and sweets, the evidence of which lies on his coffee table in the form of empty bags and wrappers.

Your bodies have shifted positions since the movie started. He's lying on his back, his body spread along the length of his couch, with you on your tummy nestled on top of him. Your cheek is squished against the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in while his chin rests on top of your head, his fingertips drawing slow circles on the small of your back.

The sensation makes you drowsy, both due to his warmth and the methodical motions of his fingers lulling you into an almost slumber.

"So, were you scared?" You tease, breaking through the serene atmosphere.

"Hm?" He mumbles, slow blinking himself to a higher state of alertness. It seems as if he too has been lulled into falling asleep on the couch alongside you.

"Were you scared?" you reiterate.

"Definitely not."

"Yeah... it felt more like a thriller than a 'horror' movie, I guess."

Mike hums in agreement, the two of you lying in silence before he speaks up again. "We should probably get off the couch now, hm?"

You groan a little, not wanting to move from your comfy position on top of him.

"Says who?" You fold your forearms across his sternum, settling your chin on top of your hands.

"Me." He quips, "It's getting late."

You huff, maneuvering your body so you can stretch and look at the clock on his wall. "It's only ten p.m." His eyes aren't open, but they don't need to be for him to tell that you have a pout on your face.

In your best attempt to dissuade him, you settle yourself back in the crux of his neck. "The night is still young."

"Says the one who was snoring up a storm on top of me a few minutes ago," he titters, poking your sides lightly so you'll fold in on yourself. "Using me as her personal pillow."

You don't engage anymore, choosing to stay right where you are in silence. If you don't talk, then no conversation needs to be had, and you can stay where you are.

"Fine," he grumbles, effectively giving up. "We can stay like this a little longer." His fingers change positions now, moving from their persistent prodding to dragging the tips up and down your spine underneath your shirt.

"You're warm."

"You're warm...and snuggly... and safe." You plant a kiss on the exposed skin from the opening in his shirt.

"Safe? Never heard that one before." He smirks to himself amusedly.

"Don't start all that now," you tell him, looking up from your spot nestled in his neck.

"It's true," he retorts, "not sure any of my former employers would agree with you."

"First off, your previous employer was an actual madman. Secondly, I'm not one of your employers; I'm your girlfriend, and thirdly, you should know by now that I don't give a fuck about corporate."

Mike looks off to the side, not meeting your eyes. "You're not exactly a good influence on me, you know," he jokes.

"I never claimed to be." You move to lift yourself more and stroke his stubbled cheek with your finger. You sigh, "Look, I get that you haven't always been the most pacifistic person in the past, but...I mean it when I say I feel safe with you. And I know Abby is safe with you too, alright?"

He doesn't have the words to articulate the feeling that those words dredge up inside him, so he simply nods.

"Good." You lay back down on his front, staring up at him. "Wanna know one of my favorite things about you?"

You stage the question like it was a guessing game, but since he's unable to guess any good qualities about himself, all he responds with is "What?"

"Your eyes. So pretty."

The corner of his lip turns up in a smirk. This isn't the first time you complimented his eyes, and it surely wouldn't be the last. The warm, rich browns that make up his irises are sweet in color, despite him thinking they were as plain and boring as can be.

"You want to know what your eyes are telling me?"

"What?" You smile sweetly at him.

"That you're looking up at me like you want something."

"Maybe I do want something." You shuffle further up his body, settling yourself onto his lap, plush thighs surrounding his hips as you hold onto his forearms for stability.

"And what's what?"

You lean over him, slowly descending upon him, your face hovering just above his. "A kiss?" You wiggle your eyebrows up and down as if to entice him more.

"Go ahead."

"Really?"

"Could always change my mind."

"Meanie," you pout, but you meet him the rest of the way anyway, his lips melding with yours.

Trying to describe your relationship and the intimacy that came along with it was difficult. Trying to describe Mike was difficult. The closest thing that comes to mind is a skittish cat. He wasn't standoffish in the sense that he couldn't talk to anyone, but trying to get anywhere other than skimming the surface with him was a challenge, like a game of tug of war, a delicate balance of push and pull. If you charged forward too quickly, he'd retreat into a corner, baring teeth and claws.

It wasn't his fault, not necessarily. The death of his younger brother being the major catalyst as to why he kept himself so closed off. A death that he blamed on himself for the longest time.

He stayed approachable enough to get along with others on the barest of levels to not cause any problems. for the most part, and any attempts at digging in any deeper than he was willing to allow were met with resistance. If he never gets close, then he never has to lose, even if it means leading an even lonelier life down the road.

The only long-standing relationship he had left was with Abby. His final tether to humanity was the little sister whose life he was holding together with glue sticks and string.

To be honest, it was amazing that you got as close to him as you did. After his short stint at the run-down pizzeria, he asked you out, deciding that he was done trying to flee and cling to the past. It was time to start living in the present, taking care of those who needed him now while he still could.

The kiss is slow, meticulous, and intimate. A word that never used to be in Mike's vocabulary. It's warm. He's warm (and slightly squishy). The heat builds to a simmer inside your tummy.

His hands slide from your thighs to the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he pulls you closer against his pelvis, causing a slight whimper to fall from your lips. All you want to do is melt in it, sink into the heat, and slowly let it consume you.

One of your arms wraps around the back of his neck while the other hand cradles his stubbled cheek. It was strange how a man could make you feel as if your whole heart was being consumed all at once. Sickly sweet words come to a boil on your tongue, but you swallow and exchange them for something more simple and primitive. Moans fill the air of his living room, with the more primal part of you taking over.

Your hips begin to rock gently against his, your tongue prodding at his teeth. The groan that comes out of you is a plea for entrance, one which he happily grants, parting his lips and allowing you to swallow him whole.

"That's it."

The kiss becomes a clash of teeth and tongues, nipping at each other's lips while wet muscles glide against one another.

You're not exactly sure why, but kissing Mike like this, in a way that's so raw and unrefined, makes you unbearably needy, not just in the pit of your stomach but in your heart too. You've grown to like this little life you've built here, tending to the seeds of your relationship with care. It hasn't been perfect per se, but it's been yours. You love it. You love his sister. You love him and you can't decipher whether that scares you or not. Excitement and anxiety both make your heart beat to the same erratic rhythm.

He's gentle with how he holds you. Square palms and thick fingers knead the flesh of your sides before sliding down to your rear to give that a firm squeeze as well, his hands guiding your body, rocking it back and forth on his half-hard cock.

A juxtaposition: knuckles once bloody and bruised, calloused fingers with skin split around the nails holding you, caressing your body as if it were velvet. If he were a bit more needy, drunk on love, he'd swear to the heavens that you were softer.

His hands move from your ass to breast, his fingertips delicately sliding up the curves. It's not the first time he's "discovered your body," nor is it the last, but all the times you have sex, which is not often enough, it always feels as loving as the first.

Thumbs brush against the ribs that hide beneath your shirt, soft in a way that makes your heart flutter before they reach their destination, swiping against the soft, stippling peaks of your nipples, your bra having long since been removed earlier that night when you returned to his place. Palms grasp at the fat of your bosom, kneading the flesh.

The roll of your hips increases while your lips separate from his, laying forehead to forehead as you pant lightly against him, breath cascading down his features. The grip of his fingers on your side tightens as he tries to stall your movements. "Stop...stop..." he puffs into your mouth, slight perspiration building on his brow from the heat.

You pout as your hips come to a full stop, peering down at him beneath you.

"I don't want to blow all over the couch," he explains.

"What a lovely mental image you've just given me," you snort, swinging your leg over him as you try to get up, only to be stopped by his hands once more.

"I never said I had a problem with getting my bedsheets dirty, though."

His lips clash with yours as he walks you backward down the hall toward his bedroom. You stumble through the door and crash onto his bed while he flips on his bedside lamp before collapsing on top of you. Another whine escapes you as you feel his hard-on through his PJ bottoms.

"Mike," you exhale, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I know, I know."

He repositions himself and you, by extension, so that he's lying on top of you properly. Lips move from yours to the corner of your mandible, planting quick kisses all over your skin as if trying to consume you. His facial hair tickles as it brushes against the skin of your neck, causing you to shrink up slightly while releasing a fit of small giggles.

You cling to every part of him just as he does to you, pushing up your shirt to lay claim to every inch of you. Though it's not fully removed, the material is left to rest above the swell of your breasts as he kisses his way down your sternum. He's deliberate as he moves down your body, attempting to cover as much of you in his sweetness as he can.

He takes extra care when he reaches your tummy, fingertips limber and gentle as he caresses the skin. Your eyes stay locked with his as his lips meet the curve of your stomach. Tender kisses are placed across it, showing appreciation for all of the parts of your body, not just the ones you've deemed worthy of his attention.

Sex wasn't always this "easy" between the two of you; even after dancing around each other and finally getting into a relationship, that didn't make all the vulnerability of the act any easier.

He wasn't bad at it by any means; he was just a little misguided. Although sometimes you regret having taught him as well as you have, especially now that he knows how to push all your buttons.

His palms slide up your legs, from calves to thighs, fingers nestled into the waistband of your underwear and pajama bottoms, tugging them off in one fell swoop. A singular kiss is placed at the height of each thigh before he spreads your legs, exposing your sex to the cool air of his bedroom.

Nothing is said, but he does sit there for a moment, kneeling on the bed above you. When he finally does make his descent upon you, he presses a kiss so delicate right on the pudge of your mons. Then he moves to your left inner thigh, then the right, back and forth, back and forth, scrupulous, patient, and SLOW. The point of which is to get you as wet as possible without having directly touched you yet. It's made abundantly clear when he echoes those same thoughts back to you.

His thumb runs through your slit, dipping into your entrance, enough so that he barely breeches through, collecting some of your slick on the rough pads and dragging it up to your clit, rubbing tentative circles on the bundle of nerves.

"So wet," is all he says while continuing, circular motions with even pressure.

Lucky for him and (un)lucky for you, he can go as slow as he likes tonight, taking all the time in the world to warm you up, despite all your incessant whining.

He leans back to pull off his shirt, revealing a cute tuft of brown hair in the middle of his chest.

"You can be as loud as you want."

He lays on his stomach, right in between your legs, landing a singular kiss straight to your cunt before dragging the length of his tongue from your entrance to clit, giving that a kiss as well. He repeats the action a couple more times before settling himself right on your pussy, nose nestled in the wirey hairs of your mons. The wet muscle worms its way to your pulsing hole, digging in deep to drink down every drop that leaks from you.

It's always difficult to maintain eye contact with him like this; his almond irises are blown so wide that it's as if only his pupils remain. He licks and laps at your cunt like it's the only thing he was made to do. He worships your pussy like it's his favorite thing in the world, and has to prevent himself from humping the bed while he indulges himself in your taste. Even though he knows you find it hot as fuck whenever he cums just from eating you out, he needs to feel you stretched out on his cock.

Though unspoken between the two of you, you know that if you stare at him for too long while he makes out with your cunt, you'll cum way quicker than you mean to, and you know if you cum too quickly, he'll lay there and tongue-fuck you right through your next orgasm, because as much as he eats you out for your pleasure, he eats you out for his pleasure too.

Most of the time, you don't feel like giving him a big ego, so you tilt your head back and screw your eyes shut as his lips pucker around your clit and suckles it into his mouth. Even if you don't meet his gaze, he knows the effect he has on you just by the way your fingers rake through his curls, rooting themselves in his scalp while whimpering praises into the aether.

"Mikey."

The pet name used to make him groan and roll his eyes in frustration, but when you're spread out like this underneath him, it's his most favorite sound in the world.

Your opposite hand drifts to squeeze and knead at your breast, tugging at your nipple. His hand comes up to meet yours, warm and grounding, as he begins to work at your clit even more, sucking it more vigorously than before. Your hips begin to buck against his face, the scratch of his stubble giving your inner thighs a delicious beard burn as the heat begins to reach a boiling point in your belly. His fingers squeeze down on yours against your breast while your fists tighten in his hair.

You look down at him finally, and it's as if he can sense you're watching him because his eyes immediately snap up to meet yours. You can barely make out the slick coating his face in the low lamplight.

He works overtime now that he has your full attention, dragging his hand from your breast to your tummy, giving it a gentle squeeze before bracing his forearm across it, allowing for leverage as he sinks one, then two fingers into your cunt. He's quick but not rough with his movements inside you, curling in just the right spot to make you see stars.

Though your hips are restricted by him, you hurdle toward your impending orgasm. You reach down to meet his hand, and he happily clasps his fingers with yours, breaking eye contact with him when the coil finally snaps. Your back arches while your hand tightens around his, nails digging into the skin of his scalp, moans dribbling from your mouth with every passing second.

He eases you down from your high, kissing his way up your body before pulling off your shift completely and meeting his lips with yours, giving you a taste of yourself. You moan into the kiss, clinging onto him for dear life as you begin to wind down. He knows you're all set when your touch goes from frantic grabbing to gentle caressing.

He looks down at you; your expression is happy and a smidgen dopey, but nowhere near fucked out yet.

"Think you can handle some more?"

"Your tongue game isn't that good."

He scoffs. "Still coherent enough to give me lip, I'd say you're good."

He sits up, reaching toward his nightstand drawer, fishing out a box from inside.

"Oh, a new box of condoms..." You rise to your knees. slinging your arms around Mike from behind, your tits pressed up against his back. "Were you expecting to get laid tonight, Michael?" you tease, slowly kissing his neck.

"You say that as if it wasn't your idea to spend the night when Abby had her sleepover." He fiddles with opening the box, tearing off a single condom from the rest.

"If I recall, you weren't opposing the idea either," you goad, trailing your lips onto his freckled shoulder. "It's good that we're being responsible; now come here. I want more kisses." You take the condom from between his fingers and place it back on his nightstand along with the box as you urge him back down on top of you.

He obliges, his lips meeting yours as you trail all over each other's bodies. His hard cock lays in between your thighs, aching and throbbing with need, so you decide to grant him a little relief. You slide your hand into his boxers and slowly stroke his cock. His breath hitches slightly, bringing amusement to your face as your lips brush against his.

"So hard for me already, poor thing." You nuzzle into his face a little, sliding your nose against his as you lick into his mouth, silently asking for his tongue once again. He gives as much as he can, panting into your kiss.

After just a few minutes of lazily jerking him off, you slide his pants lower on his thighs, bracing his cock right in between your slit and slowly start to rock your hips back and forth. The kiss becomes lazy, just tongues caressing each other while moans echo throughout the room, every vein from his cock brushing up against your clit as the two of you rock together. The heat and slick making both of you quiver.

You release him on the brink of going too far, choosing to then reach over for the singular packet, the shiny foil catching in the light.

"Can you manage to put this on, or do I need to do it?" you jest.

"I got it." He sits himself on the edge of the bed, plucking the condom from your grasp. You hear the sound of the package tearing, and soon after his bottoms are gone too, both of you nude together.

"So, how you wanna do this?" he asks while rolling on the latex.

"Wanna be in your lap."

"Are you sure your legs can handle that?" he chuckles, caressing your thigh.

"My legs aren't made of jello," you retort, getting up on your knees while he scoots backward.

"Alright, but no complaining if you get tired."

You crawl over toward him, and he reaches out for you, taking hold of your hips as you swing one leg over both of his.

"Hi," you say as you're face to face with him, one arm slung lazily over his shoulder, grazing his back, the other resting against his cheek as your finger strokes his cheek.

"Hey," he chirps back.

You give him a quick kiss, moving your hand from his face to his cock, feeding him through your entrance, and sinking down on him slowly, the two of you groaning into each other's mouths. Your tummy folds in on itself as you reach the base.

You're not sure if you'll ever get used to the intimacy of it all. No matter how many times you go through this, you wonder if the feeling of overwhelming consumption will subside. If one day, it won't feel like Mike is looking right into your soul every time you have sex.

You whimper slightly as you settle, his girth stretching you out deliciously. You cup his face as your lips search for his again. His hand moves to caress you, one hand gliding down your spine and the other grabbing the fatty flesh at the bend of your hip joint. They never stay in place, though, always on the move, making sure no part of your body is left undesired.

You roll your hips for the most part, bouncing only every so often when you want to feel the stretch of being filled again, mostly wanting to enjoy the feeling of being so close together, so connected. Taking simple pleasures in the feeling of him just being inside you. The hairs that spackle the base of his cock work to add pleasure to your clit.

He kisses his way down your neck, smiling against your skin as he does it, taking in deep breaths of your scent while his hands continue their caress to your breasts, making sure to show them the attention that he neglected while he was eating you out.

His lips move toward your nipple, kissing it before letting his tongue lull out of his mouth, flicking it back and forth.

"Mmm...Mike." Your cunt clenches around him at his efforts, your fingers curling into the hair that sits at the nape of his neck.

His opposite hand slides to your front, rubbing up and down along the curves of your body til it settles on the other breast, rolling the nipple between his digits. His tongue traces around your areola before sucking the nipple into his mouth.

"Christ, Mike," you whine as he locks eyes with you, the movement of your hips quickening with every suck.

This is the only time you get so whiny, when the two of you are in a position like this, so enraptured with each other, in each other's pleasure. You become so sweet and pliant.

He detaches himself from your nipple and eases you onto your back, grabbing the fat of your thighs and pushing them toward your chest so he can fuck you like you need, like you both need. You're not sure if Mike will ever admit to this, but he needs the intimacy as much as you do.

He's deliberate when he sinks back into you, grinding when he reaches the hilt.

When he pulls out, he develops a slow rhythm, one you can both enjoy with its progression. Despite its calm nature, every thrust of his heavy cock ruts into exactly where you need it, rubbing against the spongey spot inside you that makes your toes curl, that lights a fire in your belly and makes you needy once again.

As the moment continues to build, on the precipice of climax, he speaks to you through the haze of pleasure.

"Still need me to kiss you to cum?" He taunts. He knows the answer. It's been the same ever since the two of you got together. The intimacy between the two of you gets you off more than anything else.

You pull him down til he's practically on top of you, his body weight against yours, your tummy folding up so nicely as you lay nose to nose. His scent and his skin on yours grounds you like nothing else. You don't even mind the stretch of your thighs as he holds himself against you.

"Don't act like you don't need this too." You extend your neck in an attempt to push your lips forward on his. "You enjoy intimacy more than your grumpy face lets on." Your eyes are just barely glazed over, the same dopey grin plastered on your face as you reach out to him.

"Shut it," he huffs, pressing his lips into yours for a searing kiss, fucking into you with as much vigor as he can muster. The springs of his mattress squeak wildly as he fucks you through it.

As much as he tries to deflect, he knows it's the truth too. He needs the closeness as well. The intimacy, the skin-to-skin contact, the sweat, the heat, the love

You mewl into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Your orgasm sits just beyond the horizon, your cunt clenching down on him harder and harder with every sloppy smack of his lips against yours. The need and desperation grow as your bodies cling together, never wanting to part, edging closer and closer to ecstasy.

You glide your hand down to your clit, rubbing in tight circles as your orgasm crests, taking over your body and moaning into his mouth loudly as you pull him down even further. You're reduced to nothing but babbles and whimpers as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You feel the same words as before bubble up on your tongue. He's here, his body encapsulating yours as close as humanly possible; he's so warm, so safe. He's here, he's yours, and you love him.

You let the words escape you this time, refusing to let them fizzle out into nothingness.

"I love you, Mike," you whisper in his ear.

It's not more than a few seconds later that he's spilling into the condom, his hips still sloppily thrusting and letting out an unexpectedly loud groan while clinging to you.

The air settles, and Mike is still nestled inside you. Your fingers comb through his hair as he brushes along your side, leaving a kiss on your skin every so often, enjoying the afterglow of sex.

You're the first to break through the silence.

"Shower now or in the morning?"

"Morning," he groans, somewhat groggy after everything that went down. He pulls out, getting up to remove the condom and tie it off, tossing it in the waste basket under his nightstand, making a mental note to dispose of it properly later.

"I'm gonna go pee, then we'll snuggle up for the night," you tell him as you head toward the bathroom before he has a chance to trap you in bed with sleepy cuddles.

"Don't fall in," he smirks, feeling proud of himself, and you grin at him for being an idiot.

As you go to wash your hands after finishing up, you hear a muffled. "I love you too" through the bathroom door.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #five nights at freddy’s x reader #five nights at freddy’s imagine #five nights at freddy’s smut #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #x reader smut #chubby reader #✰ミ angel writes

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byerseason · 16 days

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my personal opinions on byler & mike’s character

most people believe mike is clueless or at least he just suspects will’s feelings. well, sometimes i agree with that but in general i think mike knows. actually he always knew. let’s look at everything from the beginning.

both mike and will always lived in a small town full of homophobia. we know will personally experienced homophobia from his dad and other people in hawkins. mike and will are friends since kindergarten and mike obviously witnessed all of these homophobia will went through. maybe mike experienced it too, we know ted said “see what happens?” for a reason. especially with lonnie, mike witnessed everything he did to will, we all know will shares everything with mike. so from their point of view, this thing called “homosexuality” is something really bad and all it causes is harm and hate. it’s something forbidden.

now let’s see what happened in all seasons. in season 1, a cool girl magically comes into mike’s life and shows interest in him. “you’re blind, because a girl is not grossed out by you” now mike has a chance to be normal like people expect him to be. and he’s a child, it’s not that deep. he can try. no deep feelings, no love, just be normal.

in season 2 this chance is taken away from mike leaving a trauma to him. after all, el was special and he cares for her so much. and the fact that she sacrificed herself just to save him and his friends is not something we can overlook. and adding to this trauma, something really bad is happening to will and they don’t even know what is it and how to fix it. he does his best, he never leaves his side because it’s something a good friend would do right? it wasn’t that forbidden thing the adults get angry about and it shouldn’t be. after el’s return and will being safe, mike had this chance again. el was here, she was incredible, a superhero who saved will and the world, and she was ready to be in a relationship with him. snowball scene was mike telling will “i’m moving on, you should move on too or we will get hurt by this.” because you know, these things always hurt will and nothing else.

in season 3, mike continues to this “moving on” as we can clearly see. this time a little bit grown up, or at least trying to grow up. distancing himself from will and all his friends, focusing on el all the time and for some reason not being able to maintain a friendship with will while dating el. this speaks volumes actually. it’s both him trying to be normal as expected and distancing himself from will to make sure he is normal too. to me that’s all the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” scene. while mike is fighting back, will makes it harder for both of them without realizing it. i think -like everyone- the ending of season 3 was mike realizing it’s not working and it’s getting serious. he’s growing up, they’re growing up and everything is becoming clearer.

will and el moving to california was a new chance for mike. he ignored will, well at least he tried even though it’s clear he felt his absence especially in school, he didn’t reach out to him thinking maybe this is the chance for both of them to move on. and then el’s letter happened. mike thought will really did it, he moved on, he was able to move on while mike isn’t. if we think deeper, he is even working on a painting for her, something he used to do with mike. so yeah, will is normal, it worked for will, while mike is still dealing with this. when they reunite i think it was much more than just jealousy. disappointment, anger maybe? especially after he saw he brought the painting to the airport. apparently will wasn’t planning on giving all his attention to mike, who was visiting him after months, but he was planning to give the painting to the girl he likes, it was probably the reason of his excitement, not mike. so this is what makes mike want to focus on el more and ignore will during rinkomania scenes. when el mentions angela and will gives a reaction to this, mike is sure he was right and this day is about angela for will.

but he finds out he was wrong. well, the painting is still for a girl but at least he was wrong about angela. will was just upset because mike was being lied to, and he was hurt by mike being distant from him. this is what leads mike to sincerely apologize to will, as always. he always does that, if will says “where is dustin right now?” mike realizes his mistake and tries to fix it. if will says “we used to be best friends” mike realizes his mistake and offers to be best friends again. that’s all their dynamic about.

after mike and el’s fight, mike comes and explains what happened to will but it’s more like he is asking for an advice, he wants will to understand him. “it was a fight that you can’t come back from.” he wants will to agree but he doesn’t, this is when we start to understand mike’s inner struggles. he brings up this topic to will three times. none of these conversations are like two best friends giving each other relationship advices because mike never tells will what is the problem. for some reason he doesn’t want will to know he can’t tell her girlfriend that he loves her. we all know will and mike are sincere enough to tell these things to each other, they always do. but if he can’t, there must be a reason. maybe mike himself doesn’t know the answer either, maybe he doesn’t want will to understand his situation because he thinks will successfully moved on, who knows?

in the desert scene, he brings the topic up again, without mentioning what is “that thing”, but this time will seems like he understands. “sometimes, i think it’s just scary to open up like that, to say how you really feel, especially to the people you care about the most.” mike never mentioned he is struggling to say how he feels but will understand, he always did. this conversation would continue with mike opening up to will if it wasn’t interrupted, so mike brings it up once again for the third time, in the van scene.

this time he is being more open but he is still struggling to say one thing, which will completes for him “you’re scared of losing her.” well, mike was wrong. will wasn’t getting it until.. the painting scene. mike is not stupid, he knows will spent days working on it. he knows eleven doesn’t know about what this painting is about. he knows he doesn’t make el feel like “she is not a mistake at all” especially after their fight, remember that line from the script “she’s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me, i saw it in her eyes” he knows el doesn’t need him, he knows will well enough to understand he is lying. the way he looks at will admiringly is him thinking “he didn’t move on, we’re still the same.” and also him being aware of what will is doing for him, breaking his own heart and sacrificing himself just to make mike feel better. also, he notices will is sobbing, he looks at him and even if he didn’t how could he not? he had tears in his eyes during all the monologue and he was sobbing right next to him. so is there any reason for mike to not say anything to his best friend sobbing next to him if he didn’t know the reason? the mike i know would immediately ask what was wrong if he was clueless. he knows why will is crying but he doesn’t know what to do about it. mike’s situation is pretty sad when you think about it, he probably feels like he’s stuck.

then we have the desert reunion scene. this time we clearly can see how stuck he feels between el and will, he doesn’t know how to get out of this without hurting any of them, and also himself. the way he looks at them looks like also him being afraid of damaging their bond.

then the monologue scene.. this scene may mean lots of different things, i am not sure either.

it may be mike being aware of what will is doing, how he is sacrificing himself once again, how mike is gonna have to lie and hurt everyone in the end, how the things are gonna be way more complicated or mike realizing he was wrong about thinking will has feelings for him.

my season 5 expectation is seeing a mike wheeler who stops fighting back and embraces his feelings, without hurting both of them.

that’s my point of view that changes almost everyday lol. i don’t know if there are many people who believes mike isn’t clueless so i wanted to share my thoughts. 💛

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler endgame #byler analysis

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lesbianrobin · 1 year

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lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

#em talks #lesbianrobin.ficscraps #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ignore me posting this at 2:45 am my time. i just had an itch okay

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beautyislovley · 10 months

Text

𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙖𝙞𝙙

“You mentioned Miles… who is that Flora?” Kate asks the young girl. “Miles is my older brother, he’s at school right now though” Flora said with an upset face. “Is he always at school?” Kate asks hoping to not deal with a teenager. “No—he plays games with me but when he’s not he’s hanging out with Y/n” Flora said as she smiled once again. “Y/n?” Kate asked, a name she didn’t know. Flora sighed “her” Flora said with her tiny finger pointing to the teenager washing the dishes. “She’s a maid—why would he be spending time with her? Isn’t she older then him?” Kate asked as she felt a pit in her stomach from the thought of Miles(a teenager) hanging out with 𝘩𝘦𝘳(“an adult“). “Nope—she’s a couple months younger then Miles actually” Flora smiled as she sat on the couch with Kate across from her.

“Why is she working here if she’s a teenager, doesn’t she have school” Kate asking a million questions. “She’s homeschooled and Miles wanted her here after—“ Flora’s voice trailed off. “After what?” Kate asked, she was already intrigued. “I’m not supposed to say”—and with that Flora ran off. “Weird” Kate mumbled to herself as she watched the young girl run away to wherever she wanted. There was no telling where she had gone due to how big the house is. “Hi” Kate said scaring Y/n “oh.. hi” Y/n smiled at her as she put the last dish down “don’t you think it’s unprofessional to hang out with someone who’s parents you work for” Kate asks immediately changing her tone causing Y/n’s brows to furrow “I uh… no? It was Miles Idea to start hanging out as we are the same age” Y/n replied trying to reason with Kate but by Kate's face it was obvious that she wasn’t having it. “I suggest you stop plus Flora mentioned your homeschooled” Kate said earning a nod from Y/n “yes I am-“ “if the reason your homeschooled is to spend more time playing than working than that is disappointing” Kate spoke before leaving Y/n alone to think.

Why was Kate so aggressive towards her? She has only just met her. Maybe she was right? Maybe it was stupid that she spent her time with her best friend and his little sister.

♡_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_♡

“Y/n” Miles knocked on her door constantly, he had just got home from school accidentally scaring Kate and was ready to tell Y/n about his time there. “Yes Miles?” Y/n asks as she opens her door pretending to act sleepy but she really wasn’t and he knew that. “Let me in” Miles groaned as she sighed, letting him in he sat on her king size bed “what’s wrong? you seem… off” Miles asks as he grabs her hand bringing her closer to him “this is unprofessional Miles.. we shouldn’t be as close as we are” Y/n responds as she pulls her hand away. “Haha very funny” Miles says as he goes to grab her hands once again but she pulls away looking down. “Y-Your serious?” Mikes asks as he stands up, she looks up at him nodding “did Mrs. Grose say anything to you while you were cleaning cause I swear—“ “No Miles—it was the new baby sister for Flora.. Flora told her about us being close friends and she talked to me saying that it was unprofessional for us being friends because I work here and..” Y/n strolls off “and what Y/n?” Miles asks as he sits her down seeing as she was in a trance. “and she was right Miles” Y/n said causing Miles to shake his head, pulling her in for a hug “no she wasn’t and if it bothers her that much than i’ll teach her a lesson” Miles says as he rubs her head.

Needless to say he learned what Kate was afraid of and used it to his advantage whenever he could.. and she won’t be complaining about their friendship any time soon.

#beautyislovely #miles fairchild #miles x reader #miles fairchild x reader #the turning #horror movies #finnwolfhardcharactersxreader #finn wolfhard #x reader #fin wolfhard #finwolfhardxreader #finn wolfhard x y/n #finn wolfhard x reader #milesfairchildxy/n

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 86

Part 1 Part 85

Eddie’s going to come out of this whole thing with a bald patch. He can’t stop pulling at the ends of his hair, feeling the sharp tug on his roots, the snap of the few hairs that can’t withstand the onslaught.

They’re all just sitting here, resting on their laurels like Steve isn’t slipping further away with every wasted second.

There’s enough frenetic energy running through Eddie to make him want to get out of the van, pace the length of the Byers driveway like a tiger in a cage. But Steve’s bound and blindfolded in the van, and the thought of taking his eyes off what little he can see of Steve’s face makes bile rise in his throat.

There’s not much else for his stomach to dredge up. He can’t remember the last time any of them ate.

So, he sits on his heels. And he waits, feet going numb beneath the weight of his thighs.

This is all becoming horribly familiar. They’re even at the Byers house again, Eddie losing his mind by inches, Steve gone.

It’s not fair. Even through all of this, no one’s priority is ever Steve, first. Steve, only. Even when it should be. No one except Eddie.

Will’s still curled into his side, looking up at Steve with that same desperate need, though. So maybe it’s not just him. They’re an island of three, always.

Eddie can live with that, will gladly subsist only to give these two his devout devotions. If Steve will just come back to them.

Eddie’s ready to scoop up Baby Byers in one arm, Steve in the other, and flee state lines if it means he gets to keep them.

Mama Byers likes him too much to let the kidnapping charges stick.

But Steve’s still gone, even as he sits placidly in front of them. So, he waits like a good boy.

For Carol fucking Perkins of all people. It’s like the Upside-Down is determined to scoop up all his sworn enemies and drag them into the clusterfuck right alongside him. First Nancy, now Carol. What’s next? Billy fucking Hargrove? Where does it all end?

Eddie yanks his hair again, feels a few more hairs snap. He drops them on the floor of the van, mind spinning off into DNA, and fingerprints, and all the things the shady government spooks could pin on him with those few loose hairs.

He pulls out a few more.

Barb’s usually an annoyingly safe and slow driver, but she must have hauled ass because her tires are skidding into the driveway well before he would have expected her to be. She stops abruptly enough that gravel kicks up around her car, tires digging grooves into the dirt beneath it.

The kids tumble out of the backseat, dirty but intact. Eddie can’t help the way his eyes stray from Mike, to Lucas, to Max, to Dustin, cataloging each of the rips and smudges along their bodies, looking for scrapes and injuries underneath.

The knee of Mike’s jeans is suspiciously ripped and bloody, like he’d taken a tumble on cement, but everyone else looks fine.

When Carol slides out, she looks decidedly less fine. Her preppy outfit’s streaked with dirt and grim, her usual blow-out hair-do caked with something suspiciously dark and viscus. Most damningly, she’s got a baseball bat clutched in her manicured hand, ready to take a swing, and are those nails? Is that blood on them?

Whatever it is, it’s not human. It’s so dark, it’s almost black, even in the overcast light of the afternoon.

Barb’s less disheveled, but there’s a smudge of the black liquid on her glasses, like it’d splattered across her face, and she’d only partially cleaned it up.

It’s seeing it there, that makes it click. It’s the same color as the Demogorgon’s blood had been when it had been painted across Steve’s face that time they’d thought it was a good idea to trap one.

Will jumps out, running up to Mike, and Dustin, and Lucus. It’s another reenactment of last year, the reunion just as fierce and life-affirming. Even if this time it’s only been a couple days since they last saw each other. Near death experiences will do that to a kid. Even Max gets pulled into the mess, arms around backs, heads tucked into shoulders.

Eddie barely sees it, too focused on Barb’s glasses, brain making connections between black blood, and Demogorgon’s and Demo-dogs, and the way the soldiers had screamed beneath the earth as they’d left them to die.

Eddie follows Will out of the van. He’s pulled into his own hug, Barb’s arms warm and shaking as they wrap around him. His hands hang down awkwardly, trapped by his sides by her hold. She drops him but stays huddled close.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” she sighs, eyes trained on the kids all surrounded together, all talking at the same time, clearly trying to fill in Will whose bemusement only grows on his face.

Eddie laughs, sharp and unhinged before he clamps his lips together to cut it off. “You don’t know the half of it,” he says. He can feel Steve in the van, still, wants to turn back and get him in his sights again.

Perkins steps in his path before he can. “Monsters, Munson?” she demands. Up close, Eddie can see the way her fingers are white around the baseball bat, the way the blood’s congealing around the rusted nails. Even at five foot nothing, she paints an imposing figure with that clutched in her hand. “You were all hiding fucking monsters?”

Eddie grimaces. “You told her?” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Barb.

Perkins rolls her eyes, clearly having heard him. “She kind of had to when those fucking things cornered us!”

He’s getting really tired of so many of the things in his life having to be classified as ‘things.’ Still, he can picture their gaping maws, the way they’d open up like flowers in bloom just from the horror peeking out behind the indignation in Perkins face. This is going to upset Steve when he gets back.

“Why the hell were you even there?” Eddie demands, pointing a finger in her face. He drops it when the hand holding the bat shakes, bringing it closer to his hand.

“Blame that one!” she snarls, pointing at Dustin like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe. “I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing one of those fucking whatever-dogs!”

“Same,” Barb murmurs, shriveling up with disgust.

Perkins doesn’t even look her way, but she still stands shoulder to shoulder, somehow made into a united front within a day. Eddie shouldn’t be surprised: the Upside-Down makes for surprising bedfellows.

He’d done the same thing, trapped in a hell dimension with Steve Harrington of all people. Steve Harrington who’d made him laugh, and shared his bed, and saved his life. Steve Harrington who’s bleeding out of himself to make room for something else.

“Where is Steve anyway?” Perkins asks, like she could hear his train of thought. “He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

Eddie can’t help the way his gaze darts toward Steve. It’s like asking someone not to look at a shooting star darting across the sky, or a lighthouse in a storm, or a compass pointing your way home. He can’t help it, and maybe Perkins can’t help the way she storms over to the van, either.

“What the fuck?” she says, less a question than an exclamation of shock as she takes in Steve’s state.

Eddie knows what she’s seeing – her friend’s washed-out face, obscured by Wayne’s flannel, and Will’s headphones, tied tightly by every seatbelt Wayne could reach without moving Steve. He knows what conclusions she’s drawing in her twisted little head as she rushes into the van and knee walks over to her reported best friend.

Eddie’s “wait, no!” is drowned out by similar sentiments from Will and Wayne and Mama Byers. None of it makes a difference. It’s too late.

“Steve?” Perkins says, and there’s the sound of her bat thunking into the ground, and then an ominous rustling. Eddie doesn’t wait to see what happens next. He bolts to the van, Wayne right behind him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

She sounds desperate enough that Eddie can’t even blame her for what she’s done. But that doesn’t change the fact that Steve’s dull eyes are uncovered, and he’s looking past all of them, through the open door and out onto the street. The flannel and headphones are both discarded on the floor as Perkins clutches on Steve’s shoulders, shaking him like that will get him to meet her eyes.

Steve’s been here dozens of times, sitting passenger side in Eddie’s van and drumming his fingers on the dashboard

“Code fucking red!” Eddie calls, head shaking at the force of his yell. “They know where we are!”

Wayne sighs, long and heavy the way he does when he’s sinking into his armchair after a long shift. All the kids are shouting over each other, demanding answers to questions Eddie can’t even hear. Perkins is staring at him like he’s insane, but Barb’s drooping where she stands. She’s been in this long enough to know what a code red means, even if she’s lacking all the necessary context.

Wayne straightens, back cracking as he claps once to get everyone to shut up. “Kids in the house!” he calls, talking louder when the inevitable protests come from that corner of the driveway. “Now!”

Wayne doesn’t yell, ever. Hearing his voice raise, angry and loud, makes Eddie flinch back, shoulder hitting Perkins where she’s kneeling. It does the job, though. The kids scurry into the house while Wayne surveys the remaining group of four, eyes skipping over Steve’s blinking eyes.

“You any good with that bat?” Wayne asks.

Perkins eyebrow is furrowed, but she opens her mouth to answer. Barb beats her to it. “I’m better.”

Wayne picks it up from the ground and hands it over to her. They all know by now that she knows better than to mislead them at a time like this. Barb clutches it between her hands, straight-backed and feet planted, like she’s ready to swing.

“Joyce, go stay with the kids.”

Mama Byers shuffles her feet, looking back at her house, but doesn’t leave. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“We can’t untie Harrington here,” Wayne replies. “And there’s no time to go somewhere else.”

As if to punctuate his point, there’s a familiar hungry growl, pettering off into a howl. The howl echoes off the walls of the sky, cutting in and out. Static. Reverb. The Upside-Down is calling and Eddie doesn’t want to pick up the phone.

Mama Byers runs, full tilt toward the house. Eddie hopes she makes it, can’t see her past the lip of the open door of the van. He hopes she’s got a gun in there, hopes she hands out butcher knives to too-small fingers and they all stand back-to-back-to-back. He hopes None of those things make it past Barb’s bat.

Wayne rushes to the glove compartment, limping on his bad hip with his haste as he digs around. He comes out with a gun, polished and sleek, and clearly one of the dead soldiers. Eddie hopes it’s loaded.

He stands behind Barb, blocking the open door with his body, gun raised and pointing toward the staticky sound of dogs growling.

“Close the door, Ed.” He doesn’t turn away from the threat, even as he says, “Love you.”

Eddie hiccups, something wretched and sharp boiling out of him. He wants to stand at his Uncle’s side, but his hands are fleshy and empty. Perkins is hyperventilating behind him and Steve’s not saying anything at all.

He closes the door.

He crouches in front of them both, blocking the closed door, ready to play a fleshy, second door should the first one fail.

There’s the sound of a gunshot, the wet thwack of a nail-covered bat meeting malleable flesh, then glass shattering all around him.

He raises his hand and closes his eyes reflexively as it rains down onto his face, into his hair. Something cold and meaty lands on his lap.

He opens his eyes.

It’s just like he imagined: paws and tail and hairless body. A petaled mouth that droops open, razor-sharp teeth glinting threateningly even in death.

He pushes it off, scrambling back and away from the dead thing that still somehow looks like it wants to kill him, heedless of the broken glass making mincemeat of his palms.

Eddie backs into Perkins, tries to keep crawling away until she grabs his shoulder, squeezes hard as she peers over his shoulder into the silence of the day.

He can see Wayne, still standing, Barb at his side, gorey bat raised. Had they won? A bat and a gun, and they’d won?

But, then there’s a new face, peering up through the broken window. Her eyes are solemn, but she smiles when she meets his eyes, short curls atop her head bobbing as she waves at him.

“Supergirl?”

Part 87

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #will byers #my fic

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wannabeschyulersister · 2 years

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crazy

*takes place in season 4 but doesn’t actually have spoilers. gif is not mine. credit to owner.*

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Steve said softly beside you.

“What?”

He gestured his hands around, “All of this. It’s crazy. Just when you think it’s all over and we can live normal lives, we are thrown right back in.”

The others around the two of you were fast asleep. You were down in Mike Wheeler’s basement keeping watch over Max.

“It’s been a crazy couple of years indeed.” You agreed. All of the crazy shit that the group had went through should’ve aged someone by like a hundred years. Sometimes when you let yourself reflect on stuff, you didn’t know how you were able to process everything.

Steve scooted closer to you, “I’m worried about Max. I’m worried about everything and everyone. Especially you.”

You looked up to see that he was already staring at you.

“Dustin told me that he thinks I swing that special bat of yours better than you do. So, I don’t think you have to worry about me.” You told him playfully.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Of course Henderson told you that.” Dustin was sleeping not too far away from the both of you and Steve nudged his foot. The kid stirred a little before falling back to sleep.

You grabbed Steve’s hand and laced your fingers together. He brought your joint hands up to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly once. He always did that when you held hands. It made your heart do a flip in your chest every time.

“I don’t want you to worry too much,” you said, “I heard it could lead to premature balding.”

Steve froze, “Are you serious?”

You laughed a little, being mindful of your sleeping friends around you, “I’m joking.”

Steve nudged your with his shoulder, “Not funny.”

“I wish I could’ve taken a picture of your face.”

“I’m being serious though. I can’t-“ Steve took a deep breath, “I can’t lose you. I’d go absolutely mental if I lost you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Steve. I plan on annoying you for many, many years to come.” You smiled and he did too just by the sight of yours. You had a way of easing Steve’s worries so simply.

“If things get too bad—“

You cut him off, “Then we will face it together. I’m not going to let you try and fight whatever monster we are facing by yourself.”

“You don’t think I could handle it?”

“Must I remind you how you willingly made yourself bait for that damn demodog?”

“You never let me live that down.” Steve mumbled.

“And I don’t plan on it for a long time”.

Steve leaned over and kissed your temple, “I love you.”

“I love you. Now, get some sleep. I’ll watch over Max for a while.” You weren’t tired in the slightest. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, would become very cranky if he didn’t get at least five hours of beauty sleep.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, “Yes, I’ll wake you when I’m ready to nap.”

Steve adjusted his body so that he could lie his head on your lap. Your hands went to his hair and ran your fingers through it. You were the only person on the planet that he would let touch his hair. You were honored.

You didn’t know what lied in store for you, Steve, or the rest of your friends in the next coming days. As much as you tried to appear strong, you were just as worried as Steve was. However, it made things bearable to know you had someone that had your back always.

“You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me, (Y/n).” Steve said.

“Ditto, Harrington.”

#Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #Steve harrington x y/n

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multifariousqueer · 10 months

Text

Miles cheating fic pt.2

Request: Ok here’s my request and it’s not smut so don’t worry lol.

What if like Yn tried sneaking into Mike’s room with some good news or smth and she catches him doing the deed with another girl so she decides to leave and then he’s blowing up her phone but she cuts him off. Idk just angst angst and more angst lol

A/n: AHHHH ENJOY Y’ALL. I wanted to make this story a bit different so lmk if you like it❤️

Warnings: cheating, toxicity, mentions of alcohol and knives, Miles being annoying, lmk if I missed one

“no” you said simply, running to the kitchen to grab a knife to get Thomas down and to defend yourself against Miles

“Listen, I’m so sorry and I know that doesn’t change anything” he started

“no it doesn’t. Listen, I’m giving you three minutes to get the hell out of my home. What is wrong with you, seriously? Have you been stalking me?” you asked rhetorically because you knew Miles had been

Miles would stalk you all the time, mostly for safety and to make sure you were happy but ever since the breakup, he had been stalking you to see where you would be and to see when he could quietly slip into your life again. When he realized you were 1000% done with him and had a new boyfriend, he realized it was now or never and he was already out on patrol. You had been packing stuff up and getting ready to leave and Miles would quietly watch you through your window and sometimes, when you weren’t home, he would come into your apartment and walk around taking in the very essence of you that he missed so dearly.

You had consumed Miles’ thoughts and dreams and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, right? Even though he got into your dream school and had every intention of going so he could stalk you more and make sure you were still safe(and available).

“Hermosa, I love you way more than this guy and I mean, he couldn’t even fight back so what does that tell you about him?” Miles chuckled dryly

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE” you shouted, waving your knife at Miles as he walked over to you

“Call them, I’d love to say hi to my dad. And stalking is a bit of a stretch, more like watching you from afar” he said

“that’s stalking cabròn”you said

“I never thought you’d call me that. I gotta say, it hurts” he said, putting a hand on his chest

“What do you want?” you asked, already knowing

“you, mami. I miss you so much and I haven’t been the same since you” Miles confessed

“Where’s your blanca? I thought you were happier with her” you said, tears in your eyes and Miles was hovering above your face

“She wasn’t you and she’ll never be you, y/n. I love you and only you and if I could go back in time and fix it, I would in a heartbeat.” he said

“hm. Well I’ve moved on and I have a boyfriend and I got into (your dream school) so I guess we won’t see each other anyways” you said

“Oh wow! This is a wonderful time to mention that I got in there too!” he smiled brightly, disregarding the boyfriend thing

You wanted to sob right there. Miles was a bit of a better student than you and he could get into your dream school without even trying and that’s what pissed you off. You had to struggle while Miles got off Scott free and still got to be Spider-Man. On top of that, the feeling that you would never get rid of Miles, no matter how much you tried ate away at you in that moment.

“You’re lying” you said, knowing it was true

Miles pulled out the letter and smirked at you

“see you there mami. And as for your cabron, that isn’t going away for another 6 hours, that’s your formula” Miles said, walking past you to your window

You had designed some web fluid for Miles and you weren’t shocked he was still using it, I mean you are a fantastic engineer when it comes to Spider-Man stuff.

You walked over to Thomas and he made a joke:

“I should’ve just went home” you both chuckled

You had hugged your parents goodbye as they left you alone in your dorm. You had dreamed of this moment since you were eleven and now that it was happening, it brought tears to your eyes. You met your roommate and went to greet some of your classmates.

When Monday came, you sat next to a cool girl and made conversation:

“I love your bag, Marc Jacobs?” you asked

“yeah, your shoes are so cute.” she said

“Thanks. I’m Y/n” you said, holding out your hand

“I’m Mia” she said shaking your hand

You two spoke a bit more before someone interrupted your conversation:

“Is this seat taken?” you immediately recognized the voice and placed it as Miles’

“oh no!” Mia spoke

He put his books down and gave you a smug look. You scoffed and class had started.

The class was relatively easy since it was one most people were required to take, its just nothing was ever easy when Miles was there. He kept proposing study dates or just hangouts and you always declined but he asked in front of your new friends this time so you couldn’t just say no without them thinking something was wrong. So, you accepted and offered for your other friends to come which they happily accepted. Miles let out a bit of a sigh and gave you an expressionless look but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled

Eventually, he became apart of your group because he was nerdy and cute so people really liked him. He kept trying to get you alone with you to talk but you never allowed it, instead you surrounded yourself with people and made sure to lock your windows. Whenever your roommate questioned it, you would say:

“I don’t want any spiders to get in”

She would always agree and y’all would go back to doing what you were previously doing

Y’all got invited to a party and you all met up at your dorm. Most of y’all crowding around your sink and doing your makeup while the guys sat on your bed and read some of your books and looked at their phones.

When you emerged from the bathroom in your dress and makeup, Miles gave you a slacked jawed look and his eyes lit up. You walked over to him in your heels and closed his mouth for him before walking out the door

The rest of the girls got ready and y’all left your dorm and took some alcohol with incase it wasn’t good at the party

All eyes appeared on you when you walked in, your girls leading you to the dancefloor where they danced on you and you danced back. You felt a sense of Euphoria and ecstasy as you swayed to the music with a red solo cup in your hand as you smiled. Most of your group split up and it was just you and Mia dancing together. You went to fill your cup when you saw Miles already there

“hey, y/n” he said

“oh hey” you smiled, being friendly and a bit jaded

“you enjoying this?” giving you a “really?” look

“mmm yeah. Well I gotta go, I hear my song” you said, rushing back to the dance floor and twerking on your friend

Miles had a bit of a somber expression until a girl started talking to him and asked him to dance with her. At first, he was gonna reject but he saw how happy you were and he decided to try to make you jealous.

She twerked on Miles and he didn’t know what to do at first until he got in his groove. He still watched you intently until the girl came up and grabbed him before turning around and trying to kiss him. She kissed him and he reciprocated, pretending it was you.

You saw this from across the room and you decided to have some fun. You walked over to them and whispered in the girl’s ear:

“careful, he might cheat on you”

Miles decided he had enough and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you outside, you remembered how strong he was and you knew this was gonna leave a bruise

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he asked

“just tryna make sure she dodges a bullet” you smirked, almost laughing

“Are you drunk?” he asked

“no, im just done with your shit” you said before trying to walk away but he cursed at you

“Ven aqui, mami”

“I’m not your mami, i’m not your hermosa, i’m not yours, miles.” you said, sternly

“Haven’t I apologized enough? Can we just kiss or fuck and make up? I’m sorry, I still love you and I’m willing to do anything to fix us” he pleaded, sensing your sudden sobriety

“There is no more us Miles. I told you from jump that cheating was the one thing I couldn’t forgive. Let me go before someone sees us.” you said

He let you go as you strutted back in the party and went back to dancing, knowing you weren’t going back.

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader #miles Morales headcannons #miles morales fanfiction #spiderman #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse fanart #spider man atsv #atsv #yandere miles morales #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse #for you

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mxchxelschmidt · 6 months

Text

-a/n- this is the barista!reader mall security!mike I was talking about. There will probably multiple parts if it’s enjoyed enough. I may cross post to ao3 at some point. It’s not proof read so bear with me.

Mike hadn’t been working at the mall long when he first came up to the coffee shop you worked at. You were only working there because the last job you had didn’t line out exactly how you wanted it to. Waitressing was different than coffee. Waitressing was more taxing mentally for you. The people getting angry with your service and then tipping you terribly instead of speaking up was annoying and you hated your income depending on how much of a people pleaser you were.

His coffee order was simple, black americano. Espresso and water. Personally you would take the espresso shots over the watered down version. The man before you looked like he needed the coffee. His eyes had dark bags under them. His hair was messy, as if he rolled out of bed to come to work. You could admire that. You had your fair share of days that required you to roll out of bed early with no regards to how you looked to come get the shop open in time for customers to have morning coffee. In fact you’d just had one of those days not too long ago.

He was wearing his security uniform, black dress pants and the long sleeve grey button up adorned with a security badge. It was tucked into his pants and secured with a black belt. His radio at his hip ready to take any of the very important calls about a teenage shoplifting from hot topic.

“Black coffee? You don’t want to sweeten it a little?” You ask half playful, half serious, because coffee on its own was just bitter to you. There wasn’t much enjoyment in it.

He kind of makes eye contact with you but he seems distracted. Focused on something else. Which is fine, most of your customers are distracted by the turmoil of their own life. They don’t care much to talk to the “barista”. This guy should be no different. Something about him draws you in though, makes you want to know more.

“Yeah. Not really a fan of coffee, just really tired today I guess.” He says almost sounding interested in talking to you but there’s something missing in the way he speaks. Something far off and distant. He’s more distracted than your usual customers, like he’s not here, far off in another world, focused on anything but what’s going on around him.

You shrug and go to pour the shots focusing on that instead of the stranger that’s only half there in front of you. Once his coffee is made you take it to the pickup counter and call out his name, “Americano for Mike.”

You start saying that every day. He keeps coming back and you’re not sure why. He still looks just as tired as each day passes. You grow to admire the look. He’s messy but he’s also pretty and that’s enough to keep starting small conversations with this stranger.

He’s ordered coffee from you a dozen or so times by now. Your coworkers begin to notice he isn’t coming to the coffee stand on the days you aren’t working, and so the teasing begins.

One of the next times he’s there you hear your male coworker call out, “Hi Mike!” And you cringe inwardly at his goofiness.

Mike tips his head to the side and you can’t help but compare him mentally to a puppy. You bite back a laugh and shrug, “What can I say, you must be a regular now Mike. You want that americano again?”

He’s less distant the more he comes to the coffee stand. He shakes his head and leans against the counter, “I can’t lie, as much as I’d rather not spend the extra money to make it taste good, I don’t think I can stomach anymore black coffee.”

You smile, you knew it would only be a matter of time before he gave up the black coffee charade. You pick up a cup and your pen looking at him, “Do you know what you’d like instead?”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugs before shaking his head, “Mmm… No. I was hoping maybe you had some suggestions?”

You can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips and you write his name on the cup. He pulls out his cash to pay you, holding it out across the counter and you shake your head at him, “On the house for your first try.” you give him a playful wink and walk away to start making his drink. This time it’s similar to what he’s gotten in the past. You pour two shots of espresso. And put them in the cup. You steam milk with a bit of caramel flavored syrup and layer it on top of the espresso shots. When you’re finished adding a caramel drizzle to the drink you walk it over to the pickup counter and and hold it out to him instead of placing it on the counter.

He walks up and does that thing where he tilts his head curiously again and you can’t help but feel a little twinge in your chest at his cuteness. You can’t muster up the courage to say anything but, “You’re going to want to stir it before you drink it. That way it tastes better.”

He gives you a nod and a hint of a smile before taking the cup, “Thanks, I appreciate it. Sleep has been rough to come by recently. I think the coffee helps.”

You give him a small laugh and a nod, “Coffee is the sleep deprived persons best friend. Gotta make sure you’re awake enough to chase those shoplifters down.”

Maybe it’s the way that he holds the cup up to you in cheers way before walking away. Maybe it’s the fact that you know nothing about him. Maybe you’ve got a crush on the mysterious security guard that keeps coming to get coffee from you.

When you leave from your shift that day you notice Mike sitting on a bench by the exit and he has a cell phone pressed up against his ear. He’s got a look on his face that reads as mildly annoyed and very pissed off. You can faintly hear the words, “No I get it, but I just don’t have any one else to go to to watch her. I can’t leave work I have to be here for the whole shift. There’s no one to cover me.” He says and rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers, leaning back on the bench.

You can see the stress painted across his face. He looks like hes going to get emotional and you cant help but feel bad for him. It’s the way he’s pleading into the phone as if it really is his last option. You walk over to him as the conversation ends and his cell phone returns to his pocket. You look at him for a moment and he doesn’t seem to notice you, but you speak up anyways, “Hey, mike right?”

He looks up from his lap and his mouth is parted slightly like he’s caught off guard by your presence. Once again too wrapped up in his own lifes turmoil to notice the world around him. He nods, lips still parted slightly before he fixes his slack jawed appearance and stands, “Yeah Mike,”

“Black Americano guy, that is until today,” You say with a smile. “By the way how was your drink? It’s what I suggest to most non coffee drinkers that want it to taste half decent.”

He gives you half a smile which is more than you’ve gotten in the entirety of your interactions. Mike seems to be coming back to this plane of existence, considering hes giving you the time of day, “It was good actually, much better than what I have been drinking.”

You’re not sure how to segue into it but you’re curious about the heated phone call you had so you pluck up the courage to say it, “Trouble with the missus?” You ask half sarcastically. Maybe you’re overstepping your boundaries but it’s too late now, you’ve already brought it up.

He looks confused for a moment and then looks down at himself as if he’s looking for a hint to what you’re talking about. He then looks back at you and here comes that half smile again, “Oh no just babysitter troubles. My sister isn’t old enough to be at home alone and her babysitter just called to tell me that she can’t watch her tomorrow. Some family emergency or something. I don’t know.” He rubs his hands on his pants nervously and shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You work tomorrow though don’t you? That’s tough,” You say and cross your arms thoughtfully.

“Yeah, now I’m kind of just shit out of luck. I don’t really have a back up since that was my backup.” He says and rubs a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. His face gets that far off look again like he can’t get his mind off of the amalgamation of problems that is his life.

You tap your foot once, then twice, a thoughtful look on your face and your lips tighten into a line before you finally speak up, “I don’t work tomorrow.” you blurt out. He looks at you with a confused look on his face like he doesn’t know why youve brought it up and then you see the lightbulb, “I have babysitting experience too, so I mean if you need someone to step up, I’m your girl” you say with a smile.

He looks like he’s taken aback by your kindness. By the wear and tear of this mans existence you can tell he hasn’t had much kindness in his life. He finally speaks up moments later, “Really?” he’s not sure if this is real or if he’s daydreaming it but it’s the best chance he’s got at not losing this job he so desperately needs to support him and his sister, “That would be amazing I don’t know how I could thank you enough. She’s a really easy going kid she’s just quiet.” he says and feels the hope building in his chest.

You smile at him and nod, “Sounds great. I think I can handle that.”

He digs around in his pocket for a moment and pulls out a small notepad and a pen usually used for taking down descriptions of criminals in the mall but this time he uses it to scribble his address down for you. He rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over to you. There’s a phone number accompanying the address and you assume it’s his. “There’s my address, if you could be there at 8am that would be great. She’s usually had breakfast by that time so it will just be lunch and dinner in terms of cooking. I’d have to pay you on payday. I’m a little tight on funds until then.” He says sheepishly.

This is the most Mike has ever spoken to you and you can tell how much he cares for his sister. You finally know what’s going through his head when he is ordering coffee and seems like he’s a million miles away.

You nod dutifully and smile at him “You got it Mike, I’ll see you bright and early.”

He smiles back, it’s not half this time, it’s a full smile. Seeing it break past that rough and tough exterior is nice. He has a nice smile.

“Thank you again.” He says and suddenly theres a call over his radio for a blonde teenage girl inside wet seal stuffing clothes in her purse and he’s off. Waving goodbye to you before turning on his heel and jogging in the direction of the store he was called to.

You walk to the parking garage with that little slip of paper tucked into your pocket. You get in your little beater car and head home actually excited for a change in your weekly routine. You’re excited to get to know more about him, even if it involves babysitting his younger sister.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fiction #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt fanfic #au

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leossmoonn · 5 months

Note

Hey hope your having a good day/ night

Can you do one when the reader is picking out a dress for a date with Mike and Abby helps her?

Thank you, I hope you are too :D

this was one of my favs to write. thank you for requesting this ☺️

————

“what color does mike like?” you ask, ruffling through your closet.

“i don’t know. i think he likes black… or blue. those are the only colors he wears,” abby says.

“every man likes black and blue,” you sigh.

“i think mike will like you in anything,” abby states. “he’s like, in love with you or something.”

heat creeps up your neck and you laugh weakly. “i’m sure he likes me a lot. i like him a lot, too.”

“no, he like-likes you,” abby insists. she sets down her crayons and looks up at you. “he’s always talking about you and asking me what flowers you like and what to get you for christmas.”

you can’t help the big smile that brightens your face. “he does?”

“yes,” abby nods. “no offense, but it gets kind of annoying.”

you chuckle, knowing she means him asking her questions she doesn’t know the answer to is annoying. “none taken,” you say as you look back at your closet.

it’s refreshing to have mike’s feeling towards you reinforced. you two have only been going out for two months, but it’s felt like a lifetime. you both get along so well. and even when you don’t, you’re able to handle conflicts smoothly.

although he told you in the beginning that he has a lot of shortcomings, you see right past them. he’s caring, thoughtful, funny, and super cute. he actually tries, which you know, that’s what people are supposed to do, but you don’t have to ask anything of him. he just knows what to do and say.

you’ve found yourself smiling whenever you think of him, wanting to text him when something bad or good has happened, making excuses to stay late at his house just so you can spend more time with him. it’s safe to say you’re falling for him faster than you ever have for anyone else.

it helps that you and abby get along so well, too.

you were a little worried in the beginning that she would shut you out from what mike had told you about her. but she welcomed you with open arms, telling you how happy she was to have a girl around. now you two hung out regularly while mike had started to work later shifts to help pay for things like dates. you insisted that you didn’t matter and you liked having in-house dates, but he knows you deserve something better, and he wants to be able to provide that. plus, it means more time with abby, which you would never turn down.

“you should wear the red one!” abby points to the dress you’re holding out.

you hum in thought. “i don’t know. do you think it’s too… bold?”

abby shakes her head. “mike will be able to find you easily if you get lost. he’s always afraid of being he cares about getting lost.”

your chest warms at her statement. mike has told you all about his brother and his family history. you knew he was afraid to because he’s been shut down in the past for being too “complicated” or “traumatized” — which if someone can’t handle, then fine, but it’s still pretty messed up when he’s blamed for being too traumatized — but you assured him that your family isn’t perfect either. and while you will never understand his experience, you’re ready to support him and learn how to help.

“he’s very good at protecting people, though,” abby adds. “so you shouldn’t be scared.”

“i feel very safe with your brother,” you smile. you pick out a few different dresses from your closet, laying them out on your bed beside abby.

“is there one i should try first?” you ask. “mmm,” she purses her lips and looks at the four options. you picked out two black ones, the red she mentioned earlier, and an emerald green one.

“the green,” she says. “alright,” you say. you grab it and change in your closet, stepping out to have abby help zip you up. this dress is a simple, but beautiful dress. it’s a maxi dress that stops just above your ankles. the straps are thick, but they don’t cover the whole width of your shoulders. the top comes together in a v-neck, stopping at the perfect place for there to be just enough skin showing.

“what do we think?” you spin around, making abby giggle.

“i like it, but …”

“you want me to try the others on?”

“yeah!”

“no problem. i picked them all out for a reason.”

the next one you try on is one of the black dresses. the first one is a strapless back cami dress. it has a sweetheart neckline and a very short skirt with ruffles on the bottom. as you look into the mirror, you realize how much it makes you look like an attention-seeking teenager.

“i do not remember it being this… short,” you say. you swear if you bend down, everyone would see your ass. and not that you think that mike would mind, but you’re confident everyone else in the restaurant would.

“i don’t really like it,” abby says. “yeah, me neither,” you say.

the second black one is short like the first, but the back has a bow and the sleeves cover your shoulders and half of your bicep. they’re slightly puffy and the rest of the dress has small flowers on in.

“i’m not sure this fancy enough,” you sigh. “i like the flowers,” abby says. “when I grow up can i have this dress?” she looks up at you with the biggest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. her bottom lip is pouted as she tries hard to convince you. you don’t need too much convincing to say yes, though.

after promising abby to lend you the dress when she’s older, you change into the red one. you already can tell from the moment you take it off the hanger it’s going to be abby’s favorite.

it’s a cocktail dress that stops just above your feet. it’s tight-fitting, but not suffocating, which allows it to hug you in all the right places. the top of the dress appears to be looser-fitting as there’s just a tiny bit of extra material at the valley of your breasts. along your waist are creases as if you’ve somehow made it tighter, but it’s just how it was made to sit on your body.

“wow,” abby gasps. “you look so pretty!”

your cheeks feel warm and you look at yourself bashfully. “you think mike will like it?”

“yes! he’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you!”

you laugh, “oh, i hope not.”

you finish your hair and makeup, letting abby choose what your eye makeup will look like and lipstick you’ll use for the night,

“thank you for helping me, abs. you have great taste,” you say as you buckle on your black stilettos.

“i know,” abby smiles.

there’s a knock on your door and your heart races. you look through the peephole, seeing it’s just vanessa here to pick up abby. you breathe out in relief and open the door.

“look at you!” she gasps. “do you think mike will like it ?” you ask, fiddling with the silver bracelet on your right hand.

“if he doesn’t, then i will take you on that date.” you both share a laugh before she speaks again. “but yes, he will love it.”

“thank you. alright, abs, are you ready?” you ask. abby jumps up from the bed, grabbing her box of crayons and pictures.

“if you guys order spaghetti can you bring some home?” she asks.

“sure, honey,” you pat her back. she reaches up for a hug and you bend down to her level. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“see you!” she exclaims, grabbing vanessa’s hand.

“mike is in the parking lot, by the way,” vanessa says. “he was reciting how to greet you.”

you giggle, feeling like an infatuated school-girl. “i can’t wait to see what he’s come up with.”

vanessa gives you a hug goodbye and the two walk off. you shut your door, locking just the first lock. you grab a coat and spray some perfume on your pulse points. a few minutes later, there’s another knock on your door. you look through the peephole once again just to make sure it’s mike. once you see it’s him, your heart begins to race and you can already feel yourself becoming a little sweaty from nerves. you hope he smells your perfume instead of sweat.

you open the door, aweing at the bouquet of flowers he has in his hand. without fail, mike always brings some type of plant to your door when picking you up for a date. sometimes he’ll bring you house plants to add to your collection or, like tonight, a beautiful bouquet of flowers. and they’re always different, which to you means that he keeps track and wants to make it special for you. it makes you fall for him deeper every time.

“i just saw abby and vanessa. they were — woah.”

he stops as he looks up at you from his stare at his shoes. he always looks at you like this, even when you’re in a ratty old t-shirt or if you’ve just woken up. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

he looks at you with wide eyes that search every part of you, not sure where to look. his pupils are already blown wide and you stifle a laugh when you remember it doesn’t take much for him to become entranced by you. the way he looks at you is like he’s won the lottery, which in his mind, he has with you.

“i… i’ve never seen you in red.” he finally finds his voice.

“yeah, i never wear it. not sure why. i might start now,” you grin.

“well, you look gorgeous in anything. and tonight is definitely no exception.” he truly looks like he can’t believe his eyes. like this is a dream and as soon as he reaches out to touch you, you’ll disappear.

you never thought of yourself as anything special before — cliché, yes, but everyone has insecurities. you aren’t not confident, but you know you’re no supermodel, even though you can definitely make yourself into one. but mike makes you feel special. from the way he softly gasps every time he sees you and the wild look in his eyes. you know later he won’t be looking at any other woman other than you. it’s the bare minimum, but it’s hard to come by. you soon realize that if you two ever break up, he’ll be your standard.

“we definitely make a handsome pair,” you wink. your own eyes graze his body, making his heart thump in his chest. he doesn’t know why, but somehow you see something in him. not just in his looks, which he can admit he’s a good-looking guy, but just his personality and what cards he’s been dealt in life. you accept everything about him, even the parts he’s most afraid of. you just make life better for him; he hopes to keep you for as long as you’ll let him.

“is this a new suit?” you ask, reaching out and smoothing his jacket collar out. the suit is navy blue with a white undershirt that has the first few buttons undone. you can see his chest hair peeking out of the cotton, making you lick your lips as you imagine what’s underneath. the suit looks to be tailored, which you know must’ve cost him a lot of money. you don’t say much, though, knowing that if mike wants to spend his money like this, there’s nothing you can do about it. although you make a note to yourself to pay him back somehow.

“yeah,” he nods. “the old one is, well, old,” he chuckles.

“you look so handsome, mike,” you sigh. it comes out all dream-like, but you can’t help it. he makes you brain numb and fuzzy and insides feel all jittery and warm.

he blushes under your gaze, looking down and remembering his little gift for you. “these are for you. they’re, uh, starlette lilies. i thought they would look nice with all your fall decorations.”

could he get anymore perfect?

“they are beautiful. thank you,” you gush. you take his hand and lead him in while you go to your kitchen to fill up a vase to put them in.

“not as beautiful as you,” mike remarks. he’s got you grinning from ear-to-ear. you place them in water with the plant food, setting them on your coffee table.

“i’m ready to go,” you say, turning back to him. he holds his hand out for you and you slip yours into his, lacing your fingers together. your palms are a tiny bit sweaty, but he doesn’t seem to mind. you’ve been on quite a few dates with him, but no matter what, you always get nervous as if it’s the first time you’re meeting him. you honestly hope this feeling never fades.

“abby helped me pick this dress out,” you say as you two walk to the elevator.

“you should let her pick them out all the time,” he says.

you smile down at him. “maybe i will.”

#mike is so bf <3 #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #mike schmidt x you

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pippytmi · 1 year

Note

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?”

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint.

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

#prompt was: 'aw that sounded a lot like you like me / im just a good actor'#i rewrote this a million times and finally settled on a childhood friends + celebrity au :)#supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #i miss these two dramatic ''besties'' who just wanna kiss each other on the mouth #lyssa #as always ty for the prompt !! <3

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