#the closest anyone gets is mike | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychedelic-ink · 5 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating?

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him.

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you.

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.”

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.”

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.”

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.”

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for.

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little.

“So where am I staying?”

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.”

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.”

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.”

“Good night, Mike.”

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it.

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm.

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought.

Too bad he doesn’t trust you.

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt.

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter.

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again.

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl.

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot.

Which is likely, now that you think about it.

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture.

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.”

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry.

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.”

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.”

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.”

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?”

“Of what?”

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.”

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it.

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.”

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?”

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.”

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean.

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender.

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples.

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb.

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room.

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute.

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.”

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head.

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness.

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead.

“Thank god you’re awake.”

“M—Mike?”

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you.

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?”

“I. . . I didn’t.”

“What do you mean you didn’t?”

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.”

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.”

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?”

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.”

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?”

“Only you.”

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying.

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.”

Your last night here. Finally.

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning.

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all.

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster.

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear?

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs?

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen.

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave.

The phone rings.

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected.

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time.

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today.

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?”

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask.

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?”

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified.

“Was it him you were thinking about?”

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.”

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.”

“What do you want?”

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.”

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?”

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?”

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.”

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that.

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?”

“It shouldn’t.”

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both?

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.”

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg.

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.”

“Forgetting what?”

“That you’re an Afton.”

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do.

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do.

And there he is.

The man with the mask.

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?”

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms.

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.”

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.”

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.”

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is.

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.”

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.”

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.”

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.”

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—”

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt.

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—”

“M—Mike—”

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.”

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—”

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless.

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.”

“Kiss me—please—”

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you.

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit.

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling.

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours.

He smiles.

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck.

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.”

“Mike. . .”

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name. “I’ll always come back.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt x f!reader #dark mike schmidt #ghostface au #ghost face!mike schmidt #josh hutcherson character fanfic #fnaf fanfic #five night at freddy's fanfic #tw daddy kink #tw dubcon

654 notes · View notes

mmelionsblog · 6 months

Text

First time [Mike Schmidt x Reader]

“ and the first time that you kissed me,

I drank dry the river lethe”

Mike’s heart was beating rapidly. Today was the day. The day that he’d add more into the Schmidt family, a fellow member. He fixated on his fingers, his eyes going haywire as they looked towards your side of the church and as to his side. He gulped, as he looked at your mom, and your siblings. They were all talking to other family of yours, whispering, then glancing back and fourth at him.

Mike wasn’t close to anyone, so the groomsmen were mostly from your side of the family that he felt closest too. The best man, a cousin of yours, noticed that Mike was starting to have a panic attack.

“Are you okay, Mike?” He questioned into his ear. Mike nodded, half listening to him. “Y—yeah.. sorry I don’t do well with big crowds like this, and to be the center of attention.” The cousin chuckled, “well get used to it. Her family adores her, so everyone is gonna want to talk to the both of you tonight.” Mike nodded slowly. Then, everyone went silent.

The song you picked started to play, his lips turning into a smile. Can’t help falling in love, of course, started to play as soon as you got into view. There is already tears falling down the poor man’s cheeks. Your dad was seen next to you holding your forearm carefully, while your hand rested on top of your dad’s.

He could hear crying on the other side of him, your cousin was just as worse as he (and apparently your whole family too). The best man patted Mike’s back, toughening up when you got close up. Mike smiled widely, picking up your veil that covered the beauty of your face. You were stunning.

Mike stopped breathing as soon as his eyes locked in with yours. Your hand in his. This is really happening, he thought.

Mike simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. He broke down, in front of you, and in front of everyone that is witnessing the wedding. “Mike?” You whispered, placing your hand onto his cheek. “M sorry,” he sniffled with a small smile. “M just in my feels right now,” he shrugged off his emotions, coughing and then looking up to the priest that was standing in the middle. Then, the wedding continued.

As the priest went on and on and on rambling, Mike couldn’t help but remember the simple times where it was just him and you, and Abby.

The first time you kissed him, he couldn’t believe it. After all these years alone, he himself had thought he’d die alone. He’d rot alone. Abby, the only one in his life, taking care of him as he got older.

The first argument, he thought he’d lose you. He was the first one to say sorry to you. He was sure you didn’t want him after the way he yelled at you, scared of the actions of what Mike’s done. But you were already in his arms washing away the worried face Mike had.

The first time you both had sex, god Mike was in a complete mess afterwords. He had never felt so good in his life, you had completely changed him after Mike had put himself inside of you. To him, if he ever lost you, he doesn’t think he’d ever feel the same way with anyone else after you. So, he can’t lose you. Whatsoever. At all.

“Now you will repeat after me,” the priest says. The two of you were so lost in thought that both of you didn’t hear anything he had said. “Hello?” The priest sang jokingly. “Anyone home?” He snapped his fingers in front of both of your faces, then the two of you had been brought back into reality. Laughter filled the church and echoed could be heard. “I’m sorry, what?” Mike nervously spoke. “You two are really in love,” the priest laughed.

“Now both of you will repeat after me,” he looked at you two in the eyes this time. “I [Name] [Last name] take you, [NAME], to be my [wife/husband]. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life. [Partner two repeats this vow.] Bless, O Lord, these rings which we bless in your name.” The priest spoke.

Mike inhaled, and exhaled. “I, Mike Schmidt, take you, [NAME], to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life. Bless, O lord, these rings which we bless in your name.” He finished. You copied after him.

The priest smiled widely. “And now will the ring bear come over?” He called out, a little boy around the age of five came out, handing over the rings to Mike. Mike placed the ring onto your ring finger, and you placed his onto his own. Your hands both holding each other afterwords.

“Mike Schmidt,” the priest spoke. “Do you take [NAME] [LAST NAME] to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

Mike looked like the happiest man on earth in front of you. “I do.” Gasps and giggles could be heard in the church.

“[NAME] [LAST NAME], Do you take Mike Schmidt to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

Your almost new husband looked at you with complete awe, and your heart skipped a beat. “I do.” You said. “And now, everyone’s favorite part!, I pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest spoke. “You may now—” Mike did not hesitate to place his lips on yours, his hands resting on your white dress near your hips. “Kiss the bride..” the priest said with a chuckle.

A/N: this is so corny and cheesy but idc bc I love Mike Schmidt

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #mike afton #josh hutcherson #fnaf freddy #fnaf foxy #fnaf movie #fnaf vanessa #fnaf #fnaf ruin #josh hutcherson x reader #Spotify

465 notes · View notes

boytoyhalo · 5 months

Text

as much as we all joke about being tired of the "slow burn" and wanting fitpac to just fucking kiss already i still think it's pretty beautiful that these two men who have both come from backgrounds where they were never really afforded enough safety or trust to take things slowly or gently are able to find that in each other.

Like, Fit spent a decade on 2b2t where you can't trust anyone or even be friendly with them for more than a few minutes, there's no room in a place like that for a relationship to develop naturally. The most you get is a maybe a quick adrenaline-fueled hookup once in awhile, no one is giving you roses or inviting you on adventuring dates or falling asleep with their head on your shoulder when things get too loud.

And Pac grew up having to be the one constantly looking out for himself and Mike, did all these elaborate heists that had to be fast paced and secretive and the only person he could ever really truly trust was his partner in crime. I doubt he's ever had someone blushing and stuttering over him, let alone looking out for his safety and promising to protect him as if he was actually worth the effort. The closest he's probably gotten to someone treating him like he's precious was Cell and that..... yeah.

Its just. they're both used to things being fast paced and violent and distrustful you know? so it's really sweet that they trust each other and care about each other enough to take "baby steps" and flirt awkwardly and go on silly little dates and leave things ambiguous and unlabeled even if literally everyone knows what they are, the amount of unwavering faith that takes for both of them is HUGE and i think that's my favorite thing about their relationship

#fitpac #hideduo

227 notes · View notes

joshlmbrt · 1 month

Note

Hi, can I request a part 2 to the secret relationship fic where he makes it up to reader and earns us back??? It was so good, but that ending really bummed me out.

(If this is not okay, I totally understand and I am sorry. I hope you have a nice day)

thank you for requesting this !! i was gonna just leave it as a oneshot, but a bunch of people requested a second part!w; second chances!! tags; @kingstevesgf, @need-a-life-or-grass, @marvelcasey05, @emma-munson part one.

it’s strange when even your closest friends will not speak to you over something you did.

granted, eddie knew he deserved it - he deserved it big time.

the club had even stopped sitting with him at lunch, which made him feel slightly embarrassed. then he remembered how he knocked your food all over your clothing in a cafeteria full of teenagers who would never let you live it down.

dustin, lucas, and mike had stopped speaking to him immediately after that had happened, going as far as missing meets. gareth, jeff, and tony had showed up to a meet, but instead of playing, they drilled him for questions.

safe to say, they were not happy with their friend.

robin and steve even ignored him when he would go into family video, only speaking to him when they had told him the price.

he was getting desperate for anyone to speak to him again.

anxiously, he stepped into family video, frowning when steve simply looked away and back at the clipboard in front of him.

he lets out a small sigh, walking towards the horror section. he stops when he hears robin muttering to herself.

he follows her voice before stepping into the comedy section. “absolutely bori-”

“please, just talk to me. i’m going stir crazy.”

she looks over at him, brow raising slightly. “imagine how she felt.” she then walks past him, tapes clutched to her chest.

he follows after her, desperate to let her know his side of the story. “i didn’t mean to hurt her-”

“really? bullying her to the point she didn’t want to show her face?”

“that’s… that’s not what i wanted to do, anyway,” he says. “i was scared.”

“you could’ve talked to her about it.” steve finally speaks up.

he looks at steve and sighs. “it’s just…. it’s not that easy for me to talk about something that bothers me.”

“yeah, but she was supposedly your girlfriend. she’s there to listen to any of your worries, eddie. you didn’t have to … to do whatever you thought you were doing.” robin shakes her head.

“protecting her.”

“by bullying her?” steve’s brows lift.

“yes! i thought… i thought maybe it would-” he pauses because he knows the next thing that’s going about to come out of his mouth is not really a good reason. “i thought maybe people wouldn’t suspect us dating,” he winces. robin narrows her eyes. “i didn’t want her to get embarrassed.”

“sounds like you were the one who was embarrassed.” steve says dismissively.

“what?! no! why would i be embarrassed of her?”

“why didn’t you just… talk to her about it?” robin asks.

“i… i just- i don’t know,” he rubs at his forehead. “i didn’t think she would understand.”

“she did,” robin nods. “she thought you were embarrassed of her.”

his shoulders slump. “she did?”

“well, with the way you were acting and everything, i wouldn’t be surprised.” steve shrugs.

eddie sighs and nods. “i… i need to make this right,” he says. he then squares his shoulders and nods, seemingly confident. “i’ll make this right.”

“i’d be surprised.” robin says, watching as he walks out of the store quickly.

dustin opens the door, only to roll his eyes and pushes to shut the door. eddie’s boot stops it from shutting all the way.

“wait! i know your mad at me. but please, i need your help.”

“what could you possibly need my help on?

“i want to make things right with everyone. but first… i want to make things right with her.”

dustin narrows his eyes, tilting his head. “and what makes you think i’d help you do that?”

“b-because your my friend?”

“that was before you decided to-”

“it’s okay, dustin,” eddie perks up when he hears your voice. you come into view. “i’ll talk to him.”

he lets out a little hmpf, turning and walking past you. eddie steps back slightly when you step out, shutting the door behind you. you cross your arms over your chest.

“what.. what are you doing here?”

“the kids wanted me to come over and watch a movie with them.” you shrug.

he lets out a little oh, nodding.

your brows lift. “what do you want, eddie?”

he sighs softly. “i want to make things right,” he nods. “i… i didn’t mean for everything to get out of hand like it did. honest,” he looks at you. “i got scared that people were figuring out that we were dating.”

“and that’s a bad thing?”

“yes! i don’t want people to look at you differently because we’re dating.”

“people look differently at me now, that’s for sure.”

he chews at the inside of his cheek before stepping a bit closer. “and i’m sorry for that,” his voice was low and somber, a hand hesitantly reaching out and gripping your bicep. “i was just nervous…”

“then you should’ve talked to me like a normal person would, eddie. not… made me regret you.”

his heart breaks at hearing that and he nods. “if… if you give me another chance, maybe you can teach me how to communicate my feelings better.”

you let out a small sigh because you know you’re going to say yes. you love eddie too much to turn away. “one condition.”

“anything.”

“this won’t be a secret this time,” you point between the yourself and eddie. “i… i love you and i want people to know, eds. i don’t want to hide away what i love.”

he smiles softly, nodding slightly. “i think i can agree to that.”

#cherry writes ✿#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst

126 notes · View notes

miscellaneoussmp · 5 months

Text

The desert is cold. They all huddled around a heatless fireplace. Nobody has spoken up yet. "Bad?" Max is the first one to speak up in a while. Bad tilted his head in response. "I think... I think I'm ready to go." It was decided, then and there. Bad and Max stood up. "Does anyone else want to come?" The reaper hoped to make only one trip.

"I know a shortcut home, I'm good." Mouse responds. She's wearing a lazy smile.

"We have to find Richas." Pac explains, leaning on Mike who's next to Forever. Felps is on the other side of Pac. Cellbit sits farther from the rest of his family. "I'm not ready..."

"Pomme needs me." Baghera hummed. She's sitting closest to the flame.

"I'll find my way back." Tina was laying back, she was the farthest from the flame aside from Bad and Max.

"Leave? Nah." Foolish was tending the flame.

Bad and Max started to walk across the cold desert. "The boat shouldn't be too far." Bad started when he heard somebody call his name. It's Forever. "Don't get lost, okay?"

"I won't, promise."

Bad is an amazing liar, as always.

—

(Part 2)(Part 3)

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp drabble #qsmp maximus #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp mouse #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp forever #qsmp felps #qsmp cellbit #qsmp baghera #qsmp tina #qsmp foolish

248 notes · View notes

artiststarme · 4 months

Text

Come to Poppa

Based on a prompt sent to me awhile ago from @yaoiprofessoryuki. I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never close to his dad, not like a father or son should be. They never played catch in the front yard or camped out in the woods. They certainly never talked about sports or girls. The closest they ever got was performing elementary science experiments at the kitchen table until his mother scolded them both over their own laughter. One day though, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Steve became less of a son and more like a roommate that coexisted in the same house.They lived in the same house and their paths intermittently crossed when they were both in the house at the same time, but their relationship was gone.

Nevertheless, all Steve wanted after fighting the demogorgons with the kids was to see his dad. He craved the comfort that only a dad could give through all-consuming hugs and emotionally stunted advice. His dad was a scientist, surely he could ask him just what the fuck those monsters were. If anyone could understand, his dad would.

But after waiting up all night and into the next day, his dad didn’t come home. His secretary didn’t pick up the phone when he called and the hospital had no records of him. His dad was just gone, disappeared just like all the evidence of the demogorgons. Steve’s mom filed a missing persons report with the Sheriff’s office but even their investigations were moot. It was like his dad fell off the face of the earth.

***

After their 1984 encounter and getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by Billy, the kids start hanging out at his house. His mom had taken to leaving for weeks at a time at the drop of a hat to avoid thinking about his father and Steve was climbing the walls in order to escape some of the oppressive loneliness that the house seemed to ooze. He thought the kids would find it fun to have a big house to themselves to make a mess in and just be kids away from the responsibilities of the Upside Down. He was wrong.

Eleven froze as soon as the door swung shut behind her, her eyes on the family portrait that hung in the living room. In it was a sixteen year old Steve, his mother in her nicest dress, and his graying dad. It was one of the last pictures that they all looked happy in. But Eleven wasn’t looking at the picture in happiness or curiosity, she was looking at it in horror.

“El? What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Mike stood between her and the photo, his hand comfortingly rested on her shoulder.

All the kids surrounded her and Steve just followed her gaze and looked at her in confusion. When Dustin saw him looking back and forth, he snuck a peek before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Holy shit, guys! Look at the picture! Steve, how the hell do you know Dr. Brenner?”

Steve’s eyes scrunched in confusion, “what? I don’t know a Dr. Brenner.”

“There’s a picture of the two of you right there!” Lucas flailed his arm towards another picture of the two of them in black suits at his cousin’s wedding.

“And right there,” Max added, pointing at a picture of Steve holding a report card with straight A’s and his dad beaming with pride to his left.

“That’s not Dr. Brenner, that’s my dad. Martin Harrington, not a Brenner,” he said while rolling his eyes in exasperation. The imagination of these kids was going to make him lose his mind one day.

“No, papa.”

“Eleven, that’s not the man that hurt you. That’s my dad. He was boring and dorky, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Papa!”

“I think she would know who experimented on her for years,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes.

“Not if she thinks it's my dad!” Steve was really reaching his limits. He’d just wanted the kids to have fun for a day, he hadn’t expected slander against his dad.

“What if it's the same person? Your dad and Dr. Brenner,” Dustin pondered.

Steve just shook his head. “There’s no way, my dad worked at the Department of Energy for the government. He ran research experiments on electricity and water and shit. He never worked with kids!”

“The Department of Energy was just a cover up for the experiments on kids!” Mike screamed.

That was the last line for El. As soon as Mike raised his voice, she flinched and threw the family portrait to the ground with a flick of her wrist. The frame splintered and the glass shattered upon contact with the fireplace tile. Most disturbingly to Steve though was the long tear in the photo separating his dad from him and his mom. An unfortunately positioned shard of glass had separated his dad from his family in the portrait just as an unknown force had in reality.

“Hey! That’s one of the last pictures I have of him! He disappeared last year and you just ruined our last picture together. Fuck Eleven, he’s not your papa.” Steve dropped to his knees next to the broken frame without regard for the glass and fretted his hands over the portrait.

“He’s a monster!” El yelled, an accusing finger pointed directly at the ruined canvas in his hands. All of the pictures on the walls fell to the floor with a deafening crash. In a single moment, all remnants of his dad were erased from the living room.

“No! You’re ruining everything, stop! My dad was just a nerd that loved science. He might’ve been a little strict about grades but other than that, he’s a good guy!”

“Steve, we are telling you that that is Dr. Brenner. I don’t know why he has a different name at work or why you don’t know what he did at work but it is him. We met him last year and he’s missing because… Well, we’re pretty sure El killed him or at least really hurt him. That’s why he didn’t come back.” Dustin delivered the news as gently as possible but his words still registered like a knife in the back.

“What.”

Suddenly, Steve saw everything differently. The missed basketball games, the unexplained absences and late nights at work, the weird interest in his experiments. It felt like the loving dad that he grew up with was a stranger he never knew at all. The kids didn’t seem to notice his shock or the fact that they had just ruined his life. They continued arguing amongst themselves until Steve tuned back in.

“What if Steve knew about it? For all we know, he could've had a part in it! Maybe that’s why he wanted to join the Party. He could be reporting back to Dr. Brenner right now!” Mike ranted. Jesus Christ, Steve hated that kid.

“You really think Steve had something to do with it? I’m pretty sure he’s failing at least three classes right now. There is no way someone would use him as an accomplice in a conspiracy this big,” Dustin shook his head and sent a wink at Steve as if he was defending him. But Steve didn’t take it that way.

They knew about his dad’s disappearance and were now insulting him? Fucking shit, he’d risked everything for these kids; his reputation, his old friends, his relationship with Nancy, his life! And they still doubted him and saw him as an idiot. They saw him as a traitor that would work as an accomplice to torture other kids. Fuck it.

“Get out.”

“Steve, Mike didn’t mean-”

He cut Lucas off with a glare. “Get out! I don’t want you here. Just get out!”

They all walked out with varying degrees of guilt until Steve was left alone with nothing to do but look at the ruined family portrait with its shards of broken glass and cry about the injustice of it all.

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369

@mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner @strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @fandommaniac123

#does the timeline continue as normal after this or does this change everything?#what if Robin takes pity on Steve when he goes back to Mrs. Click's class on Monday and befriends him then?#Eddie sees the fallen king hanging around the Buckley band kid and befriends him too #stranger things #pre steddie #pre robin #steve harrington #eleven hopper #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair

189 notes · View notes

factorialsotherfandoms · 7 months

Text

"Philza, can we be serious for a second?" Fit asks, one day.

"I'm listening." Philza turns, his attention granted once more

"If we ever get off this island, what are we going to do?" The question has been haunting Fit for some time; it is only right he asks one of his closest friends.

"… Go back to where we came from, I suppose." Philza, to his credit, seems melancholnic with the answer.

"But the kids, Phil," Fit's voice tenses on the words. "I can't take Ramon with me - you've seen where I live. I can't take a child there, never again."

"You've changed, mate."

"Philza."

It's not wrong, but its not what Fit wants to talk about. Not in the slightest, or at all - Philza has changed too, after all. For the more vulnerable, in both their cases.

There is silence a moment, before Philza sighs. "I get you," another pause. "I love my hardcore worlds, but… one life and you're dead. It's the thrill of it, it's the beauty of it, I'm sure I could make somewhere safe enough for my eggs, but… they shouldn't have to live in fear of death. Not ever, not any more, never again. Hell, not even Wil lives with me there, and he's an adult. Beautiful as it is its a solo world for a reason, you know?"

"Then you get me."

"Yeah, I get you."

Probably better than anyone else in the worlds.

There's silence again for a few moments, broken only by the sounds of using Phil and Missa's warp as a shortcut to spawn. Fit is quite content to let it sit, to simply know that the problem is shared, that he's not the only person both deseperate to escape and terrified of what that means.

The interruption, however, drives Philza to speak again. "Fit, what do you want to say?"

Does he want to say something else? Fit doesn't know, but assumes Philza must have some idea. "… I'm not sure," he says. "But I think some of the others don't have suitable homes either."

"Do any of them?" Philza replies. "I'm not even sure Wil /has/ a home at this point."

"Right. And the Brazilians. I don't know exactly, but Phil-" Fit pauses, unsure if he should finish that sentence, before deciding to hell with it, Philza will recognise it anyway. "Pac and Mike were using the boat to put distance between them and the law after their past caught up. Dunno about the others, but can't imagine its great if they shared a boat together."

Philza whistles, clearly not surprised. If anything, slightly impressed - FIt could always trust him with that. "Guess its a habit of theirs."

"I'm serious, Philza." Fit reminds him.

"No same," Philza gestures a bit. "I don't know them like you do, but Pac and Mike... They deserve a chance, let alone Richarlyson."

So do all the children, Fit doesn't say. He's done crimes enough against children before.

Philza waits, and when Fit doesn't continue, does so himself, "I don't know much about the French before they came here, or Foolish, but Bad was already working multiple part time jobs, and if he had a home it wasn't best suited to a kid."

"Vegetta? Missa?" Fit asks. "Does Quackity have somewhere to go maybe?"

"Dunno about most. Missa's a bit like Wil, though," Philza smiles softly at the thought, before it turns a little sadder. "Never stays anywhere very long, and with the skeleton thing and his reaction to this shack… pretty sure it's not by /choice/ he's doing the travelling musician act. Wil at least has somewhere to return to, Missa nearly burst into tears at four walls made of fences and a cheap roof."

"Well shit."

"Definitely can't take Missa to hardcore, either," Philza continues the thought. "I could make an area safe for Tallulah. Missa? He'd die as soon as I looked away from him and I /can't/ loose him. Not now."

"Travelling musicians, ex-cons, men who live alone without any contact, old hands in an eternal wasteland... The Feds clearly picked people who wouldn't be missed," Fit frowns a little, struggling to think of anyone who bucks that trend.

Philza doesn't reply to that. Fit doesn't think it too odd but, after he doesn't respond for a while, he looks over. There's a clear look on Philza's face, one that has ended empires and built others anew.

"Philza?"

"I do have… a bit of a plan. Not a lot of one. But I've been thinking."

"Thinking, eh? Using that beautiful brain of yours?" Fit doesn't know if he should be terrified or excited, and so falls back on the oldest trick in the book - flirting.

"Oh shut up big boy," Philza waves one dismissive hand. "But, yeah. I'm pretty sure, if we could get out of here, I could manage to find some place uninhabited. A new island or world. Whitelist it just to us islanders and the eggs, maybe people's partners from elsewhere. Infinite lives, an empty but open world… Somewhere just for us. All of us."

"It'd be a lot of work, starting again from nothing. Can you even support this many people? I know there's your worlds, but it'd be a lot..." Fit wants to be excited, wants to see some hope in this tunnel - somewhere safe for him and his kid, somewhere to retire to. Maybe make trips back to the wasteland, but no longer live there. Never live there again.

"I can't talk to her here, not easily, but I bet Kristin would be willing to support it. I've heard a few other people have ties to gods, too, which would help. Not sure which, but once we /have/ a plan asking is easier." Philza muses a bit as he talks. "We discussed it once, before, for another group. Smaller than this, but with help... I reckon it'd work. Even if not, I could hold it together long enough for someone to make a better plan."

"Sounds nice. Too nice," is all Fit can really say.

"I've never wanted it before," Philza sighs with the words. "I was happy just with my solo worlds, but… I don't think i could loose this - everyone - now I've had them."

"Just like I cant leave Ramon."

"Exactly. We've got families now."

"Look at us, getting old and sentimental."

"Oh piss off mate you started it."

"I know, I know." Fit laughs, because what can he do but laugh in the end.

Philza has a plan, and Fit is included in it. It will work, or it will fail, and there's nothing they can do about it.

It's a pipe dream, anyway; they'd have to get off the island first, and Fit's pretty sure that won't be possible in his lifetime. The best he can do is enjoy what he has for the time it lasts, and leave worrying to people better suited to it.

If only the Federations would let them have their fun.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp fitmc #qsmp philza #scribbled the dialogue out at like 1am #added the rest 12 hours later #I feel like a lot of small groups have similar discussions over time #worlds be nebulous etc

344 notes · View notes

bugsbenefit · 11 months

Text

closest to canon Hawkins we can get

this is the map used in s2 and shows up in the canon show as well as in World's Turned Upside Down (also used as the base for most official artwork of Hawkins). as of now it's the most accurate map we have

there have been a few other maps on the show but those deviate a lot from what's seen in canon (like Bob's map showing a river near the town center that isn't really there). the only inconsistency with This map is that the County Coroner is a bit further south than in canon and that some locations that are referred to as "streets" in the show are marked as "roads" or "avenues" here. those are all minor changes though so as far as canon goes. this is the best map we've got

blue - bodies of water, white - buildings, green - residences, gray - streets, yellowish - speculative/not listed on the map but implied through the actual show

also, to explain further, i didn't make these locations up. all buildings in white and streets are already marked on the map, most of them are extremely hard to read and i just put more legible text on top. the Wheelers, Sinclairs, and Mayfields houses aren't listed but are easy to locate since their street names are on the map. only the yellow squares aren't explicitly confirmed on the map and are technically speculative since i added them based on canon information

(explanation of the reasoning for those placements under the cut for anyone that's interested. bc, personally, i hate seeing maps online that make plainly wrong claims without even trying to explain how they got there)

just starting off, almost every version of this map places the Wheeler and Sinclair home further north than me which is canonically false. those maps use a wrong scale. Lucas and Mike are almost next door neighbors (there is only One house number between theirs, but that house could also be located across the road from them, making them actual next door neighbors). also, Maple Street starts further south than a lot of people using this map seem to acknowledge. the actual order of the two houses is up for debate and could easily be switched though

Melvad's is technically also speculative since it isn't listed on the map (only the cinema and police station are). but looking at the town square in the show and the irl location of the stores you can pinpoint it's position

"Weathertop", the highest area in Hawkins, which is where Cerebro is located in s3. since the town is shown to be behind Starcourt when positioned on Wheatertop, the hill has to be located behind the mall

Hopper's trailer is shown to be next to a lake and only features in s1, the shape of the lake matches Lake Tippecanoe the closest but i'm not dead set on this

Benny's Burgers is canonically on Randolph Lane, the map doesn't feature this road but has a Randolph Way instead. it might be an entirely different road, or Randolph lane could be an unmarked offshoot of the marked Randolph Way. however, since Randolph Way leads out of Hawkins into a forested area near HNL and the forest the party looked for Will in, the general location of the road is probably a good guess for it's location

Mrs Driscoll's home is somewhere on Cornwallis Street. we don't know where on the street, but it's there somewhere. (the same also goes for the motel Billy and Karen wanted to meet up at, but since we never even saw the location i didn't mark it on the map)

the Brimborn Steelworks are on Cherry Oak Drive, accessible when driving down Cornwallis. the street Cherry Oak Drive also doesn't exist on the map. however, a street called Cherry Avenue conveniently directly connects to Cornwallis so i'm inclined to believe that's where the Steelwork is located (Cherry Oak Drive could also be an offshoot of Cherry Avenue or it could just be an inconsistency sploof)

the Byers home is marked twice on the map since it could be located on either road leading away from Mirkwood (Kerley or Cornwallis)

Skull rock and Reefer Rick's Cabin are both located at Lovers Lake but since we don't know their exact locations they're technically speculative

Garrot Street is only implied by canon and it's probably the loosest connection on here. Skull Rock is noted to be near "Cornwallis and Garrot". there is only two major/big roads noted near lovers lake, one of them is Cornwallis, the other one would then most likely be Garrot (also made likelier by the fact that the actual name of the road is completely illegible on the map and could be anything)

also note. the Eno River is also on this map, but i had to crop it a bit to fit a reasonable scale. it would be in the far northwest of the map (the south-most tip of it is still visible)

locations that become relevant later on and aren't marked on the map, that also aren't locatable through additional canon information would be things like Max's old home, the Roane Hill Cemetery, the Creel House on Morehead, and Pennhurst (even though we don't know if Pennhurst is actually in the Hawkins map are). also things like the community pool in s3 or town hall in s4 don't show up either

#stranger things

483 notes · View notes

steddiealltheway · 2 years

Text

Thinking about game night at the Jopper household with the party and everyone.

Dustin is playing score keeper / ref after losing a long game of rock, paper, scissors.

At first, they start with a game of charades, trying to figure out who will be on what teams for the final game.

No one is surprised when only Joyce can guess what Hopper is miming (besides two times when El gets it first). Unfortunately for everyone else, this turns into a very gross jopper flirting session. Will and El are the most disturbed out of anyone - Jonathan is too high to know what’s going on.

When Steve gets up, everyone expects Robin to guess exactly what he’s saying. Surprisingly, Eddie beats her to it every time although him and Steve have hardly ever hung out - both assuming the only thing they have in common is Dustin. The weirdest moment is when Steve cups his hands and Eddie immediately, correctly guesses, “Goldfish!”

When Max goes, Dustin really has the worst time being ref because Lucas swears that he said the answer before El did and vice versa. Dustin has to decide on a tie for most answers. No one is prepared for the look Lucas and El give Nancy when she gets one right answer before them.

Argyle goes up and no one gets what he means. He goes a full five minutes doing the most intense mime. In the final three seconds, he sighs, and holds his arms above his head spread wide. Jonathan yells, “Pineapple!” as soon as the timer rings out. Everyone takes a moment to try to process how any of his mime could mean pineapple. The closest he got was when he was rolling around on the ground?

Nancy gets up and everyone is expecting this to be an epic Jonathan versus Steve showdown. Absolutely not. Robin gets everything. Every single one. As the game goes on, Nancy’s smile gets bigger and bigger. And Robin gets more and more flustered and red.

When Mike stands up, no one really knows what’s going to happen - it’s been awkward since El and Mike decided to call it quits. When Mike first starts going, Hopper starts guessing things like, “Murder. Homicide. Agony. Torture…” and Joyce has to pull him to the kitchen for a bit. When Steve starts guessing, Mike breaks the silence and yells, “No!” in frustration. Finally, Will takes over and starts guessing correctly.

The next game they decide to play in groups is the most intense, dramatic game of Sorry ever.

Hopper and Joyce run out to get food for everyone - and fresh air specifically for Hopper. And Argyle and Jonathan sneak away to get high out of their minds.

This leads to the groups:

Steddie + Dustin, Elumax, Ronance, and Byler

It’s absolute chaos.

At one point, Lucas tries to argue that it’s mainly a game of chance, and Nancy slams her fists down saying that there is so much strategy (Robin yells, “Yeah! What she said!”).

Mike personally tries to ruin any move Steve makes. He sarcastically says, “Sorry,” moving Steve piece far away from home. Eddie yells, “Are you?! Are you really sorry?!” And Mike backs off for the rest of the game.

El gets called out for slowly moving a piece forward with her powers when she thinks no one is looking. But Robin and Dustin catch her wiping her nose.

Will begins muttering, “Why couldn’t this be D&D or Nintendo?” over and over at one point. Mike holds his hand to make him feel better - it works.

Max ends up getting her last piece home for her team, winning the game, after saying how she doesn’t really care if she wins or loses the whole time. (But she really really wanted to win)

Joyce and Hopper come back to find Will screaming, “Finally!” while dragging Mike away to probably play Nintendo. Steve is hugging Eddie, whispering soothing words about how it’s okay to lose sometimes. Robin is stuttering and rambling after Nancy winks at her and tells her that they make a pretty good team. Dustin is yelling at Elumax for cheating. Argyle and Jonathan are missing.

Despite all of it, Joyce and Hopper agree family game night needs to happen again.

3K notes · View notes

fill-me-with-dirt · 6 months

Text

Fnaf movie headcanons

Mike is Trans Gender

Mike has called Abby “Garrett” on accident at least once

William gives Vanessa his kill trophies (this is basically canon it’s just fucked up to think about)

Mike and Abby would love portal/portal 2

I’m an avid Mike and Abby are Henry’s kids believer idc how unlikely it is

Mike makes Abby pb&j to get her to eat but she’ll only eat it if it’s perfect 50/50

Mike likes his pb&js 75 jelly 25 pb and he and Abby have gotten into arguments about it (she threw the sandwich at him)

Mike smokes weed. Vanessa knows this (he’s not good at hiding being stoned) and chooses to ignore it

Vanessa takes edibles and thinks it’s funny to fuck with Mike, saying she’d “arrest anyone who smokes weed”. She only stopped because he had a panic attack over losing Abby. (She’s literally fucked up at the time)

Mike had a phase in highschool where he wore a letterman jacket every day (he did not play sports)

Abby befriends wild animals to the point where mikes had to shoo out an opossum with a broom (it bit him)

Abby, Vanessa, and Mike obsessively watch glee when it comes out (Mike acts like he hates it but Vanessa caught him singing glee mashups in the shower)

Abby fucking loves grape juice (the smell of it makes Vanessa gag)

William doesn’t actually need glasses he just likes how they look

Mike can not tell when someone is flirting with him he is the most oblivious man in the world

Mike is a cat person while Abby is a dog person

Mike saves all his paychecks for months to buy Abby a wii (they played just dance for seven consecutive hours when he brings it home’

Vanessa had dark brown hair as a kid but William said it made them look similar so she started dying it blonde (if she waits too long to dye it she can’t even look at herself in the mirror, all she sees is her father)

William doesn’t cover his gray hairs because it’s the closest he’ll get to having the same hair color as Vanessa again (without dying his hair)

One time William left the house in he spring Bonnie suit and now people talk about the furry in town

When Abby was a kid she didn’t understand why her parents and brother were so sad when they looked at her (she looked like Garett)

One time when Mike and Vanessa were smoking Mike starts talking about how he’s always felt different and weird and all that and Vanessa goes “oh you mean you’re bisexual?” And Mike is so shocked by this revelation he sits in silence for an hour

Mike let’s Abby play makeup with him and Mike likes it so much he secretly wears a little eyeliner

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #vanessa afton #William Afton #headcanons

170 notes · View notes

astrobei · 1 year

Text

for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others.

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket.

Will’s flashlight sputters again.

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight.

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him.

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding.

God. He’s so screwed. “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this.

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

#hiiii quin so sorry but tumblr ate ur og ask #i did immediately memorize it tho bc i read it and i was like Oh Yes #anyways ik u asked for maybe s5 too #and idk why this is where my mind went #there are a million other s5 scenarios that i could've written #but something about byler kissing in dark closets.... haha #yeah <3 #anyways i hope u like this !!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #also fun fact for anyone who reads my fics #this was rly close to my og concept for ive come home im so cold #like the third chapter #but that story got away from me so #this isn't the Same but its similar !! kind of.#ok bye

689 notes · View notes

kylejsugarman · 7 months

Text

its actually so intensely fucked that we never once see jesse get any kind of concrete support in coping with jane's death or even someone to really talk to about it in a meaningful way. she dies, a complete stranger (mike) comes by to put her body in a bag and feed him lines for the police, he almost OD'ed before breaking down in the arms of the man who let her die, he goes to rehab still in a state of shock. he calls her number just to hear her voice mail. he keeps her cigarette butts still stained with her lipstick in his car. he tries to be mature and rational ("it's like u said. we wouldn't've lasted long") when a sleep-pilled walt brings her up, but we know from the cigarette stubs that it's just a facade. the two birds circling overhead. the final shots of el camino where jesse is imagining jane in the passenger seat with him are sweet but also so devastating in a way because they show plainly that jesse has had so few opportunities to process her death and can now only do it alone. he didn't have anyone in his old life to help him navigate the loss and now he has a new life that she can't logically be a part of. she's in the passenger seat, but that's the closest she'll ever be now. two birds circling, one always chasing the other but never managing to catch them.

#syd squeaks #vince really said 'let me just add a little syd-specific trauma to season 2. for the jokes'#breaking bad #el camino #jesse pinkman #jane margolis #hey can someone talk to this guy. can someone be niceys to him for a little bit

196 notes · View notes

strangersteddierthings · 6 months

Text

No Regrets - Part Two

TW: OC Character Death (dude doesn't even get a name). Steve reflects on killing both demo-creatures and humans with detachment. Mentions of Major Character Deaths but as a reminder, they don't stay dead! (Well, Chrissy and Fred do)

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Maybe he should feel bad about watching Robin grow smaller in the rear-view mirror, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. Maybe he should feel regret for his actions, for the betrayal Robin probably feels right now.

He doesn't.

Looking at the bigger picture, at the regrets he actually does have in the waking world, this is small potatoes. A non-issue. Robin will forgive him in the end.

War Zone is like a ghost town compared to the first time Steve was here. Though, that should have been expected. The panic hasn't swept through town yet. So far, it's just one dead girl. Fred'll join her sometime this afternoon. Evening? Sometime later today.

Nineteen-year-old Steve would hate himself for not trying to help. For not doing his best to save Fred.

But.

Well, Fred dying will help Dustin, in the long run. Will help Eddie. And that's more important. That's the goal. The dream, if he's allowing himself to be cheeky in his own mind.

Steve's not heartless, or anything like that. Robin, his Robin in the waking world, still calls him a softy and worries his kindness will get him killed on the daily. He always puts the safety of the group above himself. The first to volunteer on supply runs or for scouting or taking watch through the night. He knows he can run on empty for much longer than anyone else he knows.

The end of the world has a way of skewing what kindness and softness are, though. Those first few months were the hardest. Steve wanted to save everyone they came across. Help as many people as possible, but rations run dangerously low that way. Clean water can become contaminated quickly by ignorant people. Not everyone handled the apocalypse with grace.

The first harsh lesson Steve had learned was two months into the end of the world. They'd ventured to Indy to find supplies. Medicines. Try and stock up on things they didn't need yet but wanted around for the just in case of it all. They'd found some survivors, which wasn't surprising in itself. The surprising bit was that these guys had made it on complete luck it seemed. They were loud. Jumpy. Panicky.

When Lucas and Mike, on scout duty, had reported back demogorgon activities nearby, one guy started to panic. Got loud and couldn't bring himself back down. Steve was closest, tried to shush him but he wouldn't be quiet.

"Move," Murray (may he rest in peace) whispered, seeming to have appeared from nowhere, shoving Steve away, nudging him out of the way. Murray stepped behind the guy, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other arm around his neck. It made the guy panic more, fighting Murray and then Murray just-

Steve remembers he flinched at the noise, turning away to cover his mouth and calm his own panic. The noises stopped though. Steve had shot a horrified look to Hopper, but Hopper wasn't looking at Steve. He was looking beyond, at Murray and what he'd done, nodding his approval.

The demogorgons didn't find them that day.

"You can't help everyone, Steve," Murray said, once they'd started the trek back to Hawkins. "The safety of the group comes first, over just one person."

Lesson heard. Lesson learned. Lesson put to use four months later.

So. Fred must die, for the good of the group. Patrick, too, if Steve can't get to Vecna in time. He should be able to. Vecna will try and take Max first, tomorrow. Patrick the day after. If everything stays the same.

The clerk doesn't even blink at what Steve buys, or the quantity of what he buys, but his eyebrows do go up a little at the total.

Steve hesitates just a bit over the checkbook his parents gave him the first time they'd left him home alone at fourteen. For emergencies only, Steven. It's been sitting in his glove box, unused, since he turned sixteen. He's never wanted to have to explain what he'd used it for. Nothing had ever seemed like enough of an emergency to warrant explaining it to Richard Harrington.

He does find it a little odd that his mind is conjuring up the concept of money. Of all the little things to think about while he sleeps, he really didn't think his subconscious would bring capitalism back.

Steve rips the little check out of the booklet and hands it over. The clerk looks it over before giving a nod and finishing the cash out. Steve takes the receipt when it's offered, shoving it into the checkbook before shoving that into his back pocket.

The parking lot has one other person in it, who Steve is aware of the entire time he's loading the trunk of his car with gallons of lighter fluid, weapons, and padded camouflage. It's only after Steve's slammed the trunk closed and shoved the cart back towards the front of the store that the guy watching him speaks.

"Must be some bonfire you're planning."

Steve rounds his car and opens the door before answering. "It's spring break, man." He slides in, the door falling closed after him. He buckles up, starts the car, and heads home. The house will be empty, he knows.

He works in silence, unloading the car and organizing his haul in the dining room, eyes flicking to the clock. There's still a couple of hours before dark. Before he should go check if Eddie's still in the boathouse, or if the police did go find him.

He sets the timer on the stove for an hour and flops onto his couch and sighs. Just as comfy as he remembers. He can have a nap before making sure Eddie's in jail. Surely his dream will allow him that?

"Mmhm," Steve mumbles as his neck protests movement. He's slow to wake. His head feels like white noise. He thinks he was dreaming but he can't quite grasp at what it was... oh. Family Video and War Zone. Reliving a memory. He wonders if Robin is still mad at him for that day, ditching her with Dustin and Max. It'd been for a good reason and- Steve wrinkles his nose as he sits up, head still static-y. Was it for a good reason? He can't remember what else happened after that....

"He rises," Robin whispers next to him, spooking him. She comes into focus as he sits up straight, leaning out of her space to look at her. She gives him a smile, judging by the crinkle around her eyes and her cheeks rounding. The gas mask prevents him seeing her real smile and he misses it. He thinks about his dream, and getting to see all of Robin's face again.

Dreaming is bittersweet.

"I miss anything?" He asks, because it's a safe question.

"Scouts radioed. The way should be clear in another," Robin grabs his wrist and twists so she can see the time on his watch, "another twenty minutes or so."

The mention of the radio makes him think of Dustin, and how much he misses him. And thinking of Dustin makes him think of Eddie. Steve knows it's irrational for him to miss someone he never knew but that doesn't stop the ache. The almost of it all sits heavy in his chest.

"Right," Steve says. "Want to see how many rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors we can get through in twenty minutes?"

Robin shuffles sideways to be facing him and holds her hands up. "You always lose but okay."

They get about twelve rounds into it before Steve finds himself asking, "Hey Robbie. Do you remember Spring Break?"

Her hands freeze in the air, an aborted motion to make paper to beat Steve's rock. She locks eyes with him for a moment and he can see the worry there. "I- Steve. Is it- did you take a hit? Is it your head? Should I not have let you nap?"

No. No, he doesn't think he got hurt on this run. Well, his shoulder hurts from when he stumbled and slammed into wall during the last loading of the truck, but he hadn't hit his head. He thinks. "I don't know... I hit the wall hard, shoulder hurts, but I didn't hit my head. I don't remember hitting my head."

Robin stands immediately and begins jabbing her fingers around his skull. "Anything tender?"

"Nope. Just a messed up hairdo," Steve swats her hands away.

"Well, you can never be too sure. You are precious cargo. Why did you ask about the start of the apocalypse?"

Steve shrugs. What can he say? That he's forgetting the start of all their horrors? He can't say that, not without coming across like he's either crazy or bragging. Remember the week that ruined our lives and gave us all enough trauma to fill an ocean? Yeah, well, I don't so ha!

He can't be sure but he thinks Robin frowns beneath her mask. "We'll have to have someone look you over when we get back. Steve, if you're losing your memories..."

"I'm not losing memories," Steve lies. Head trauma is serious and he knows he can't take one more hit to the head. He won't be able to continue helping with supply runs or patrols if he is getting worse. If he starts getting migraines, they'll reassign him for sure. Something that doesn't let him leave the safety of their home base at the high school.

"Steve," she warns. He knows it's a warning.

He shakes his head. "I just. I had a dream about Saturday. Very vivid. Just made me think about it, is all."

Robin softens, sinking back down to sit beside him. She finally answers, "yeah. I remember Spring Break."

"I miss everyone," he confesses, because it's true. Because it's safe.

"Me too," Robin says, leaning her mask against his.

They wait in silence until the scouts call the all clear and they can head back home.

They make it back to Hawkins before night falls but just barely. The gates get rolled shut behind them and the unpacking gets started. The whole community has gathered for their return. This is their longest run to date with how far they had to go this time and Steve doesn't blame anyone for needing to see their loved ones as soon as possible.

"Robin!"

Steve turns just in time to watch Vickie launch herself at Robin. Robin must have seen her running, though, because she's already braced for impact and catches Vickie easily, arms grabbing at Vickie's thighs to support her weight as she wraps them around Robin's waist. Vickie places her forehead to Robin's as their excitement switches to tenderness and Steve averts his eyes to give them privacy in this moment.

"Steve, here," Ted Wheeler offers up a box to Steve, who takes it without question. "For the Daycare."

"You got it."

The Daycare is actually a wing of the school that used to be where the language arts classes were held. Daycare doesn't quite sum up what they use the area for, but calling it the Orphanage was too dark. Steve waits through the decontamination process. Once through, he takes the time to pull his mask off and enjoy the feeling of an artificial breeze on his face before heading to the Daycare.

"Please tell me there's something useful in that box," Annie Click says when Steve pushes his way into one of the rooms they use for school. Another room is dedicated to being a daycare, kids too little for learning, another is schooling for kids who would be in middle school, and the last room is lines with beds.

"Sorry, Mrs. Click, but I didn't pack it," Steve says apologetically.

"My problem to sort out then," she stands and Steve can see the determination in her through the weariness. She'd been a bitter old lady as his teacher but the world ending must have shifted her priorities. There's no one better suited to look after the kids than her, here.

Except maybe Joyce, but she's got bigger things to deal with.

He heads for the door when Annie calls out to him, "Since you're here, would you mind checking on the kids for me? Holly's supervising bedtime but she's lenient with her friends."

"Will do."

He heads across the hall and down a door to the sleeping room. The lights are dimmed and peeking in he sees a lot of kids sleeping, or pretending their best to be. Holly is sitting in a rolling chair near the door, one leg bend and pulled up on the seat as she rests her head on it.

Steve clears his throat to get her attention. She must have heard his footsteps because she doesn't spook. Just uses the foot on the ground to spin the chair to face the door. "Oh. Hi Steve."

"All good here?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Everyone's asleep."

"You can probably head home now. Your dad's back."

Holly shrugs one shoulder at him, spinning the chair back away. "Maybe later."

Steve takes the hint and backs away. His chest aches for Holly. All the kids had to grow up fast, given the state of the world, but Holly's hurts him most. He knew her in the Before, and she was there when Karen... Well, she's got a lot of weight on her shoulders at barely eleven years old.

To think. If they'd have been faster on that Spring Break. More diligent, thorough. Holly might have never known about the Upside Down at all.

More regret he can carry, he thinks, as he shoves his mask back on and heads back to the truck. There's more to be unloaded, and always work around to keep him so busy he doesn't have to think of the regrets.

He works so late into the night that once he gets back to his cot and collapses into it, there are no thoughts let in his mind as sleep claims him.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @andrew-mini-ard @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77

#steddie #my fic #time travel au #apocalypse au #it's both #is steve dreaming? time traveling while he sleeps? will his changes matter?#i mean im pretty sure we all know the answers to that but im pretending i can be cheeky about it all #also if u think i made a mistake in my plot or that ive forgotten my own lore just know... that maybe that was on purpose #butterfly effect AU might be a better thing to call this

184 notes · View notes