#abby-6-stuff

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: "It Should Have Been Me."

Set in the FNAF movie (2023) universe.

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping and murder, children in distress, and grief.

Extra -

((Line I discarded, because it didn’t fit the vibe: It towers over Mike, but that's not a surprise, given that everyone tends to tower over him (except Abby, but she’ll get there eventually). ))

(Word count: 1,126)

((Day 6, only 25 more to go!))

--

Mike remembers the day his little brother disappeared.

He remembers riding in their mom’s car, side-by-side. Garrett still had to use a booster seat, which meant his range of motion was limited. This upset him greatly, as he always wanted to be as close as humanly possible to his big brother. 

It was as endearing, as it was annoying to Mike’s twelve-year-old self. 

He remembers arriving at the park. 

It had been a nice day. Sunny with a little bit of wind. 

He remembers racing Garrett to the playground. Mike chased him in circles around the large structure, the smell of mulch in the air. They played until their mom called them over for lunch. 

He remembers not feeling very well after lunch. The wind had died down and the heat was slowly getting to him, so he decided to lay down on one of the benches. 

He remembers telling his little brother to go play, and perhaps Mike’s tone hadn’t been the most kind, as his head had been killing him. Their mother backed him up, reassuring Garrett that everything was fine. 

She fussed over him, asking Mike if he remembered to take his allergy medicine, and if he brought his inhaler. 

The answers to both being: yes, his mom never let him leave the house without taking it, and yes, though at that point in his life, Mike hadn’t had an asthma attack since he was ten. 

He remembers….being woken suddenly by the sound of screeching tires and his mom’s screams of panic. 

The car ride home that night was silent. Blurry in his memory, besides his mom’s caustic side glances towards him. He’s sure no one can read minds, but if he was granted the power to read her’s, Mike would have never left his room again. 

He remembers very little else. 

The guilt slowly ate away at him. It was almost maddening. His parent’s sorrow made it worse. If he had a time machine. A single wish. A shooting star. Anything. 

A chance. 

Mike would use it to bring his brother home. 

If he had been watching Garrett none of this would have happened. Headache or not, Mike had one job. And the years that followed weren’t kind to him. His mom and dad moved on (as much as they could, given the circumstances), and even had another child, Abby. 

And, as much as he adored and loved Abby (and Mike loved her with all his heart, mind, and soul), the feeling of being a complete and utter failure never left. Mixed with the gnawing worry that his little brother suffered terribly following that day, made Mike barely functional. 

But eventually, he too, moved on. 

His parents died, and Abby needed someone to step-up. 

But the guilt never left. It was a constant companion, right by his side, day and night. 

He had been doing better. He was getting better. 

“It should have been me,” Mike says. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”

The animatronic bear in front of him continues to stare impassively. The only sign that it’s listening at all is it’s one working ear twitching ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry I failed you, Garrett. I should have been watching you.”

“Not your fault,” a garbled, almost staticy voice rang out. “Tried your best.” A large paw pats him on the head. 

Mike tenses up. After the week he’s had, with all the other animatronics trying to kill him, it would be fair of him to assume this one (possessed by his brother or not) also wants him dead. 

“Good big brother. No sorry….forgive you.” 

Its words are just barely coherent. He can make out his brother’s voice through the mess of static and the broken module, the thing once called a ‘voice box.’ 

Mike hasn’t cried in a long time. Not while being chased through the pizzeria. Not in Vanessa’s hospital room. And not even at his parents’ funeral. 

The last time he had cried, truly, actually cried was….

He swallows, nodding. No words can express the weight that had just been lifted from his shoulders. 

“Never blamed you.”

Unable to stop the tears from flowing, Mike breaks down. It would take years for him to truly process his emotions regarding Garrett’s disappearance, but the fact his little brother never blamed him, soothes Mike’s soul in a way no counseling or therapy session ever could. 

“I…miss you. Everyday,” Mike says, stinging, watery eyes staring firmly at the ground. His voice breaks, wavering. “I never stopped looking for you. I wanted you to come home. I…I’m so, so sorry. You deserved better.” He fumbles to find the right words, mind racing. 

A paw finds its way to Mike’s head again, giving it a short but firm pat. It rests there. He looks up slowly at the animatronic Fredbear. It tilts its head to the side. 

“I…love you.”

Mike gives a wobbly smile. “I love you too. You….you can rest now. The bad man is gone. Abby is safe.”

“Good job?”

“Yes, you did an excellent job. Rest. Mom and dad are waiting for you.” 

The suit seems to sputter, powering down. Its one glowing blue eye goes black. 

“Goodbye, little brother. I hope to see you again, some day.”

He stumbles outside. It’s lighter now, almost daytime. His mind is a blur, and he wants so badly to sleep. 

“Mike!” Abby yells, running over and hugging him tightly. “I was so worried.”

“Everything’s okay, Abbs,” he reassures her, placing a gentle hand on her head. 

“Where’s Fredbear?”

Mike sighs, sadly. “Gone.”

Abby sobs, clinging to him harder. “It’s not fair! He was my friend!” She hits his chest and stomach in frustration (which hurts, but he fights down the urge to wince). 

“I know,” he murmurs, because he does. Better than anyone else in the world (besides, maybe, Vanessa). “Let it out.”

She screams, pulling away from him. “It hurts, Mike. Why does it hurt so much?”

He bends down to her level. “Because he was your friend. It hurts when someone you love leaves you.”

“But it didn’t hurt this much when mom and dad left.” Tears drip from her eyes, and her bottom lip quivers. 

“I wish I had the answer for that. If I could take it all away, I would.” He pauses for a moment, opening his arms. In an instant Abby is once again clinging to him. “I don’t have the answers, but I can assure you I felt the same way about Garret.”

“I wish I could have met him,” she whispers, head resting on his shoulder. “I bet he would have been a great big brother, just like you.”

Mike swallows down his tears. “...yeah, he would’ve been the best.”

[aberooski]

Doing revisions to Sustained By Hate has been great because I get to add things like Chazz's mom talking about his brothers like they're good people in front of him when she arrives on the island because she legitimately doesn't know how awful they are.

Legit a line I added for her is "You and I both know your brothers have always been good, respectable people." Oh poor, horribly misguided Michelle 🥲

In my lore for her they gaslight her and lie to her face about anything bad they've done so she still thinks they're decent guys. And Chazz can't talk to her to tell her the truth because even though he's her favorite son, she'd either not believe him or if she confronted them about anything they would lie and gaslight her into believing them so he just doesn't talk to her about anything they do/have done. So she still thinks highly of them which Chazz doesn't like and she's unknowingly contributing to the problem with his familial situation because she doesn't know what the problem is and therefore can't really avoid it. Which only makes his relationship with his mom tense too which sucks for him because she's the one person in that house that gives a damn about him.

I also get to characterize her more properly to what I've developed her to be since I came up with her originally. And she can be, not exactly meaner, but exhibit her Princeton qualities more on the surface than in the original version. She's too nice in the og to be perfectly frank. Michelle needs to actually feel like she reminds Chazz of his brothers like "oh right, she's their mom too." And I don't feel like she does.

She and Chazz need to actually fight in chapter 4 too like I, as the writer, need to believe he's mad at her and that she feels bad that the last conversation they had before he loses his voice was a fight and that she was too hard on him. Like the og is so tame honestly aksksk.

I'm having too much fun with revising/quasi-rewriting this fic but also being so critical in a way I don't like help 😭

[futureghost97]

.

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[lefteagleblizzard]

ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱

Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: Life as a college student was hectic. You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him. You admired the way he balanced his responsibilities, especially his care for his younger sister, Abby. Over the years, this admiration blossomed into a deep-seated crush that you couldn't quite shake off. Today, you finally got the chance to talk to him again after so much time due to you going to college.

Warnings: Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Strangers/Friends to lovers. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Handjob (M receiving). Anal sex.

Words count: 5000

Part 2- Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

This is different from the usual gender-neutral stuff I write, and I’m sorry to those who are used to them. I’m just so sad about never being able to find a male reader story, something that I can relate to. Your support and understanding mean a lot to me!

You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him.

Over the years, you often saw him in the mornings when he returned from work, his expression weary but softened when he exchanged a word or two with your father.

Those fleeting moments were enough to plant a growing crush in your heart, a mix of admiration and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

One crisp morning, as you grabbed your backpack, ready to head out to college, you ran into him.

Literally.

You were in such a rush that you barely noticed him until you bumped into his solid frame on the sidewalk.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he chuckled, a warm sound that made your heart race. His hazel eyes, always a bit shadowed with fatigue, brightening just a little at the sight of you.

His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin, which somehow made him even more attractive.

The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, a reaction you were becoming increasingly familiar with but were still not quite used to.

You felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by your clumsiness but secretly thrilled to be talking to him. "You're in a hurry, aren't you?"

His voice was deep and warm, like a comforting blanket after a long day.

You laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, running late as usual. What about you? Just getting back from work?"

"Yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his neck in a way you found endearing. His movements were tired yet graceful, revealing the strain of long nights but also a quiet resilience you admired. "Long night, But hey, it's good to finally bump into you —literally."

"You're looking... good." You regretted your choice of words almost immediately, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

Mike chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting, as if he was genuinely pleased by your compliment. "Thanks. You look great too. College must be treating you well."

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to hide your blush and not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"The usual chaos. It's busy, but I'm hanging in there. I guess I'm learning a lot, though some days it feels more like I'm just trying to survive."

He chuckled, nodding knowingly. "Sounds about right. I remember those days, even if they were a bit short-lived for me. Dropping out to take care of Abby was the right choice, but sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to finish."

The way he spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and acceptance, made your heart ache. You admired him for the sacrifices he made. "You did what you had to do. Abby's lucky to have you looking out for her."

You stood there, both hesitant yet unwilling to end the conversation. It had been a while since you'd last talked. Life, college, and his busy schedule made these interactions rare. But when they happened, they were the highlight of your week. There was a warmth to his presence, a comforting steadiness that contrasted with the chaos of your daily life.

"So, how's Abby doing?" you asked, shifting the weight of your backpack on your shoulder. You knew how much she meant to him and how hard he fought to keep her happy and safe.

"She's great," Mike said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. His eyes softened, a hint of pride and affection in them. "Growing up way too fast, though. She actually asked about you the other day.

The idea that Abby remembered you, even though you'd only met a few times, warmed your heart. You tried to picture her as you remembered-a bright, inquisitive little girl who could light up a room with her laughter. "That's sweet. I should stop by more often."

"Yeah, you should," he replied, a glint in his beautiful hazel eyes that made your heart skip a beat. There was something earnest in his tone, something that suggested he wouldn't mind having you around more often. "She misses having someone around who doesn't mind her endless questions."

"I don't mind at all," you said quickly, realizing how eager you sounded. "In fact, I like talking to her. She's a really smart kid."

"She is," Mike agreed, his expression softening further.

"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. "How are things going with... you know, the custody stuff?"

A shadow crossed his face, and you regretted bringing it up. You watched as his shoulders tensed slightly, and the easy smile slipped a notch.

"It's... it's been tough. My aunt's not making it any easier," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. There was a pause, a moment of shared understanding of the challenges he faced. You admired his strength, how he continued to push forward despite everything.

Your temper flared at the thought of the obstacles thrown his way. "That woman is just-" You caught yourself, but not before an unsavory word slipped out.

You covered your mouth, horrified, but Mike just laughed, a sound that was more soothing than you'd anticipated.

"You're not wrong," he said, his laughter fading into a soft smile. "But it's nice to know someone's on my side. You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

The compliment caught you off guard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to brush it off with a smile, but inside, you were glowing. He noticed, of course, but chose to let it slide.

"Well, I just... I hope things work out for you, Mike. You deserve that."

His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his eyes. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you and if he could sense the emotions you tried so hard to keep under wraps.

"Thanks. It means a lot coming from you" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "I need to find a new babysitter for Abby. The last one quit because, well, I can't really afford much right now."

Without thinking, you blurted out, "I could do it!" you offered eagerly, almost too quickly, the words spilling out before you had a chance to reconsider.

The offer hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you worried you'd overstepped.

But you couldn't help it. The thought of spending more time with him, getting to know him and Abby better, was too enticing to pass up.

Mike studied you, his expression softening. His eyes held a mix of surprise and gratitude, and you noticed how his lips curved up slightly at the edges, almost as if he was trying not to show too much emotion. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the hammering of your heart. "I mean, I have some free time, and honestly, my college roommate is loud and annoying. Plus, I'd love to help."

He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. There was a warmth there that seemed to envelop you, drawing you in. "That'd be great. I can't promise much in terms of payment, though."

"Don't worry about it," you said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'd be happy to help. It's not about the money. I'd love to help out, really. I've missed seeing you guys around."

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the rush of making the offer and from the hope that he would accept.

The way he looked at you then, with a mixture of gratitude and something else— something hopeful—made you believe this was the start of something more.

You felt your heart flutter, a thrilling sensation that made you wonder if maybe he felt something too. "You're really something," he said softly, almost to himself.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as your heart soared. "Just trying to do what I can."

"Well, thanks. Really," he said, his voice earnest. "It's nice to see you again after so long.

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. "Yeah, it's good to see you to, Mike."

As you both parted ways, you couldn't help but glance back over your shoulder Mike was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he waved. You waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement.

This new arrangement was more than just a job; it was a chance to see him, to learn more about the man who had quietly captured your heart. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something that could change both your lives for the better.

As you walked away, your mind replayed the conversation. You noticed how Mike seemed to pay close attention to your words, how he listened intently as if every word mattered. It was a rare quality, one that made you feel truly seen and heard. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of his smiles and laughter, if perhaps he harbored feelings that mirrored your own

Mike's presence lingered with you throughout the day, the memory of his rare smile and warm gaze etched into your thoughts. You found yourself imagining the moments you would share while babysitting Abby, the possibility of spending more time with Mike, getting to know him on a deeper level.

As you reached campus with a heart full of excitement and a mind brimming with thoughts of Mike, you headed into the day, eager for what the future might hold.

The first day of babysitting Abby was a mix of nerves and excitement. As you approached Mike's modest home, a cozy littie house with a well-kept garden, you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation and a bit of anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that Abby would like you as much as you liked her brother.

Abby greeted you at the door, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of shyness. She was a bright, energetic girl with dark hair and a mischievous grin that reminded you so much of Mike. Her presence was immediately infectious, and you felt any lingering anxiety melt away.

"Hi, Abby! I'm here to hang out with you while your brother's at work. How does that sound?" you asked, bending down to her level, hoping to convey friendliness and approachability.

She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as if she had been eagerly anticipating your arrival. "Okay! Can we play with my toys?" Her excitement was palpable, and it was impossible not to be drawn into her world.

"Of course," you replied, smiling as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside with a surprising amount of strength for such a small person. You were grateful for her enthusiasm, feeling your own spirits lift at the prospect of spending the day with her.

The hours flew by as you played games, read stories, and even painted together. Abby had a vivid imagination, and you found it easy to connect with her. She was talkative, often sharing stories about her day and asking about yours.

Her innocence and curiosity were refreshing, a welcome escape from the complexities of adult life.

"Do you like my brother?" Abby asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity as you helped her with her coloring book. Her question caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

"I think your brother is a really great person," you said carefully, hoping to dodge the deeper implications of her question. You didn't want to make things awkward or too serious.

She giggled, a knowing look in her eyes that made you wonder just how much she picked up on. "He likes you too. He talks about you sometimes" Her words sent a jolt through you, a mix of excitement and hope that you struggled to keep under control.

Your heart skipped a beat at her words.

Unbeknownst to you, Mike had returned home earlier than expected. He needed to grab some pills he'd forgotten and thought he'd quickly check in on how things were going. As he stepped inside, he heard the sound of Abby's laughter echoing through the house, drawing him toward the living room.

Peeking inside, Mike found you and Abby sprawled on the floor, surrounded by crayons and papers.

Abby was in the middle of telling a story, using her drawings as illustrations, her eyes alight with creativity. You listened intently, encouraging her with nods and comments, clearly engrossed in her imaginative tale.

For a moment, Mike simply stood there, watching the scene unfold before him. His heart swelled with warmth and admiration as he saw the joy on Abby's face, the ease with which you interacted with her. It was a sight he hadn't realized he longed to see, and it stirred something deep within him.

Seeing you there, so effortlessly connecting with Abby, made him fall even more in love with you. It wasn't just your kindness or the way you made Abby laugh, it was the way you seemed to understand her, to know exactly how to make her feel valued and cherished.

Mike cleared his throat, stepping into the room. "Looks like you two are having fun."

You looked up, surprised but pleased to see him. "Hey, Mike. We're just finishing up Abby's latest masterpiece."

Abby beamed at her brother, waving her drawing triumphantly. "Look what we made!”

He approached, crouching beside you to examine the masterpiece. "I love it.”

Abby beamed, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at her joy. "We make a good duo," you agreed, catching Mike's eye. There was something in his gaze, a warmth and appreciation that made your heart flutter.

"Thanks for today," Mike said, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "It means a lot to see her so happy"

"It was my pleasure," you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. "She's a wonderful kid."

As the days turned into weeks, your bond with both Abby and Mike deepened. You found yourself looking forward to each visit, eager to spend time with Abby and, more secretly, to see Mike. He was kind, patient, and had a dry sense of humor that often caught you off guard and made you laugh until your sides hurt.

Abby quickly became a friend, often sharing her thoughts and ideas with you. "Do you want to see my drawing?" she'd ask, holding up a colorful sketch that she'd made with all the innocence and creativity of a child.

"Wow, Abby, that's amazing!" you'd respond, genuinely impressed by her creativity. "You've got a real talent." Her pride in her work was infectious, and you felt a deep sense of fulfillment knowing you were making a positive impact in her life, fostering her confidence and creativity.

Meanwhile, your interactions with Mike grew more frequent and meaningful. Sometimes, after Abby had gone to bed, you and Mike would sit in the living room, sharing a beer or a cup of tea, discussing everything from music to movies to life's challenges. These moments became the highlight of your day, a chance to unwind and connect on a deeper level.

One evening, as you settled onto the couch after a long day, Mike handed you a steaming mug of tea, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too. Your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

"You're really easy to talk to," Mike said, his voice sincere, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. "I don't get that a lot." His admission made your heart swell, knowing that you were someone he felt comfortable with, someone he valued.

"I feel the same way, Mike," you admitted, feeling a warmth in your chest that was becoming all too familiar. "It's nice having someone who gets me and doesn't think I'm weird for my horror movie obsession."

You wanted him to know that you felt a connection, a shared understanding that was rare and precious.

He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think it's cool. Most people just give me funny looks when I tell them I enjoy those films." His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual understanding.

"Then they're missing out," you said, a smile playing on your lips, enjoying the banter and the ease with which you could share these moments with him.

You found yourself opening up to Mike in ways you hadn't with anyone else, revealing dreams and fears that you usually kept hidden.

There was a trust between you, a sense of safety that encouraged honesty and vulnerability.

"I always wanted to be a writer," you confessed one night, surprised by your own admission. The words felt heavy and significant, a part of yourself that you hadn't shared with many people. "But I don't know if I'm good enough."

Mike looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady and encouraging, as if he could see the potential within you. "I think you'd be great. You have a way with words, and you see things differently. That's a gift." His words filled you with a warmth that lingered long after the evening had ended, a validation that resonated deeply with you.

You often caught yourself daydreaming about him, replaying conversations and imagining what it might be like to tell him how you really felt.

The movie you've found online and that you were currently watching, an old, obscure horror film, played on his TV. The film was terrible, with laughable special effects and wooden acting, but it provided ample opportunity for humor.

You tried to focus on the movie, but you found yourself constantly distracted by Mike. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the sound of his chuckle, and the way he seemed genuinely relaxed in your presence made you feel special and welcomed.

"There's something about these films that just never gets old," Mike said, his eyes still glued to the screen as a particularly ridiculous scene unfolded. "I mean, look at that monster. It looks like it was made from papier-mâché. Did they really think that scene would be scary?" Mike chuckled, shaking his head. His laughter was contagious, a sound that filled the room with warmth and lightened the weight of the day.

"Right?" you replied, though your focus was more on him than the film. You watched the way his smile lingered, the subtle way his body leaned toward you as if drawn by an invisible force.

You were lost in thought, contemplating the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks. Watching him enjoy himself, knowing that you were part of the reason he could unwind, filled you with a sense of pride and affection that was hard to ignore.

"There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice steady but your heart racing. The words were heavy on your tongue, but you knew it was time to speak your truth.

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He sensed the seriousness of your tone and straightened, giving you his full attention.

"What's on your mind?" His voice was calm and steady, a reassurance that made the confession feel a little less daunting.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and pushing past the fear of rejection. "I really like spending time with you, Mike. And not just as a friend. I've felt this way for a while now." The admission hung in the air between you, a truth that couldn't be taken back.

For a moment, Mike looked at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by your confession, His initial surprise was evident, and you could see the conflict playing out in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to struggle to find the right words.

His thoughts were a jumble of emotions and concerns. The age difference between you, Abby, and his financial struggles weighed heavily on him. He didn't want you to feel tied to him, not because he didn't feel anything for you, but because he knew he couldn't give you everything you deserved.

"... I didn't expect this," he finally said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I care about you a lot, but... it's complicated. You're younger than me. I have a lot of responsibilities with Abby and work. There's a lot I can't give you, and I don't want you to feel stuck because of me. You deserve better" His words were hesitant, filled with an internal struggle that made your heart ache for him.

You understood his hesitation, could see the conflict in his eyes, but you also saw the way he looked at you, the warmth and affection that couldn't be hidden. It was enough to give you hope, to make you want to show him that you didn't care about the obstacles, only about him.

Gently, you moved closer to him, closing the space between you. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed frozen, waiting to see what you would do next.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "I just want to be here with you." Your voice was soft but firm, a quiet promise of your intentions.

Then, slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, one that held all the feelings you hadn't been able to put into words. For a moment, Mike seemed surprised, his body tensing at the unexpectedness of it all. But then, he melted into the kiss, his hesitation giving way to something deeper.

His hand found your waist, his fingers tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, closing any remaining distance between you.

The kiss was slow and tender, a shared moment that spoke volumes about what words couldn't convey.

You felt him relax against you, his internal conflicts momentarily forgotten as you both gave in to the feelings you had been harboring for so long.

His other hand reached up to gently cradle your head, deepening the kiss as he finally allowed himself to accept what was between you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart racing, you looked into his eyes and saw the worry and doubt had been replaced by something softer and more hopeful.

"Well, that was unexpected," Mike said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was a gentle rumble, carrying a hint of wonder and disbelief.

"In a good way, I hope?" you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.

"In a very good way," he assured you, his lips curving into a smile that sent a flutter of joy through you.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed close, unwilling to let the moment end.

"Me too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "l'm still scared about what this means, but I know I don't want to lose what we have."

You leaned in closer, feeling his breath mingle with yours, and captured his lips in another kiss. This one was softer, more lingering, a gentle exploration of the connection between you. It was a silent affirmation of the feelings you both shared, a testament to the bond that had grown between you over time.

You felt his hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of being so close to him, of sharing in this moment of intimacy and understanding.

A soft sound escaped your lips, a quiet sigh of contentment, and you felt him smile against your mouth. There was a playfulness to his touch now, a sense of joy that mirrored your own.

"Shh," he whispered teasingly, pulling back slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mike's lips moved against yours with a growing urgency, his own quiet moans mingling with yours. He tried to keep quiet, pressing soft kisses against your lips to muffle your own sounds, though the effort only served to heighten the sensation, a delicious tension that wound tighter with each passing moment.

His efforts to remain quiet were punctuated by low, throaty grunts, each one a reminder of the passion that simmered between you.

The quiet of the room was punctuated by soft gasps and whispered names, a symphony of affection that crescendoed in perfect harmony.

With a gentle tug, he guided you onto his lap, his touch firm yet careful, as if handling something both precious and fragile. The movement was fluid, instinctive, a seamless continuation of the magnetic pull that had drawn you together on the porch. Your knees settled on either side of him, bringing you chest to chest, your faces inches apart. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes, a tangible reminder of the passion simmering just beneath the surface.

His hands found their place on your legs, fingers splayed to support and explore, tracing slow, deliberate paths along the fabric that covered your skin. It was as though he sought to memorize every contour, every curve, feeding the curiosity that had lingered in the recesses of his mind for years wondering how it would feel to finally hold you close.

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was both tender and insistent, a mingling of breath and heartbeat that spoke of shared longing and mutual surrender. The world outside faded further into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of exploration and affection.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring with a curiosity that had been held in check for too long. The sensation was intoxicating, a dance of intimacy that spoke of all the moments he had wondered, all the times he had imagined what it would be like to taste you.

Mike's quiet grunts of pleasure were a symphony to your ears. You could sense the tension in him, the effort it took to maintain control even as his own desires threatened to overwhelm him.

His fingers brushed over your back, tracing the line of your spine, before moving to explore the curve of your waist and the strength of your thighs.

You mirrored his exploration, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, feeling the tension and release of muscle beneath your touch. Your fingers traveled to his neck, threading through his hair, drawing him even closer as the kiss became more fervent. It was a symphony of sensation-a blending of warmth, breath, and the gentle hum of shared affection that enveloped you both.

It was as if time itself had slowed, allowing you to savor each second, each heartbeat, as you became one in a language unspoken yet deeply understood.

His hands were slowly gliding all over your hips and lower back now, and they eventually made their way down to rest on your ass.

He squeezed, causing you to grind down against him and you moaned. You started prepping with kisses on his face, his stumble scratching your lips occasionally. Mike groaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a minute. You began a slow rhythm of rocking your hips against him, his head falling back to rest on the back of the couch.

"Good boy," Mike murmured against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through you. It sent a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling in response to the intimacy of the moment.

Mike's hands, confident yet gentle, found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, a silent question hanging in the air as his fingers brushed against bare skin. You nodded, granting permission. The fabric lifted, sliding over your skin with a whisper, leaving you vulnerable and exposed, yet utterly safe in his embrace.

His touch was electrifying, a gentle exploration of the expanse of your chest, the warmth of his hands grounding and exhilarating all at once.

You leaned up and captured Mike’s lips again in a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth. His hips bucking up into yours as you quickened the movement of your hips against his.

He was trying to pull you even closer against his body to increase the friction between the two of you as much as possible.

He began peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your chest and collarbones. You sighed, and laced your fingers in his hair, relishing in the feeling of his lips all over you.

He began sucking on one of your nipples, moving one of his hands to play with your other, which earned him a suppressed moan from you and caused you to throw your head back. You tugged on his hair, and it only seemed to make him even more enthusiastic with his movements.

He suddenly stood up, moving his arms to hold onto you tightly as you gasped, but landed back onto the couch almost instantly. You were now laying on your back and still looking up at him as Mike reached to pull his gray shirt off.

He was so handsome.

He began undoing his belt and the button to his jeans, pushing them down his legs. He kicked the jeans off and kneeled down, placing a hand on your thigh and looking at you.

“Can I?” he asked. You didn’t waste a second nodding your head, and you watched as he took his time to pull off your jeans and underwear, throwing them onto the floor beside his own discarded clothes.

Mike didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second, wanting to admire the sight of you and he moved so that he was now on top of you. He now had you pinned down against the couch cushion, and you felt your own heartbeat inside your eardrums.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his enthusiasm from earlier returning as he deepened the kiss instantly.

He shifted slightly, reaching over to a small drawer built into the side table next to the couch. You watched curiously as he pulled out a small bottle of lube. The position was a bit awkward, and you couldn't help but give him a puzzled look, wondering why it was there instead of in his room.

Mike caught your expression and stuttered slightly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Uh, well, I keep it here because of Abby. She tends to rummage around my room looking for toys or paper to draw on."

You giggled at the thought, imagining Abby innocently sifting through Mike's things, completely unaware of what she might find. "That makes sense," you said with a smile, amused by his predicament.

He chuckled along with you, the tension in the air dissolving into something more playful and intimate. With a deft motion, he flicked open the cap of the bottle and poured a small amount onto his fingers, his movements careful and deliberate.

You watched, fascinated, as he spread the substance between his fingers, his focus returning to you with a renewed intensity. There was something thrilling about the trust and care in his actions, a silent promise that you were in good hands.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation and excitement. "Absolutely" you replied, meeting his eyes with unwavering confidence.

His hand slowly trailed from its place at your side, down your hip before moving it to the space between your thighs. You gasped slightly when you felt his touch on your dick, causing fireworks to set off all throughout your body.

You moaned into his mouth now that Mike was touching you exactly where you needed him and he picked up the pace, pumping you as you began to let out soft moans at his touch. He flicks his finger over your tip, which was now leaking profusely.

Your hand returned itself to tangle in his hair while your other made its way to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He questioned, and you could’ve swore he was smirking against your lips.

You whined and nodded slightly. You had very little control over your reactions at this point, and Mike was well aware of this. He quickened his pace once again, and you were beginning to squirm underneath him.

It seemed like he was having a lot of fun at this point, amused by all of the reactions he was dragging out of you. You weren’t sure how this could get any better when he had maneuvered his hand lower, beginning to thrust his middle finger deep into your hole.

Another loud moan, muffled by your own hand, escaped your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation, clenching your thighs together around his hand.

He pulled his head away and began biting your jaw, sucking hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark tomorrow, but you were too focused on his finger moving inside of you to care.

Mike then added his ring finger and you whined loudly, tugging on his hair. He let out a groan, and began fucking you faster, causing you to come into his hand, and onto your stomach.

Your back arching off of the couch and your fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

He was only focused on you, and he would do anything to indulge you at the moment. He pulled his fingers out of you after riding out your climax and shifted above you a bit. Your entire body flooded with warmth and you were panting.

Your recovery was cut short by Mike grinding into you, the length of his cock rubbing against you.

A soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips, signaling his turn.

He pulled back to look at you and his expression was questioning, waiting for an answer before going further with anything.

You whimpered out a small please and that was all it took before he was slowly sinking his cock inside of you.

He threw his head back and groaned, his cock twitching inside of you. You whined at the feeling and bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He slowly bottomed out inside of you and kept still, Pausing to admire you, lost in your serene, blissed-out state, like a masterpiece in a moment of pure tranquility before he began thrusting into you.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” He groaned out, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear.

Your eyes shot open when you heard him, whimpering and quickly nodding your head, you were unable to speak, all you that was coming out of your mouth were the most pathetic whines, whimpers, and pants. Hearing him talk like this made you clench around him, which in turn caused him to slam into you faster.

“All mine, every bit of you,” he declared, his words sending shivers down your spine. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle any more sounds that might escape

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body bouncing each time he thrusted into you, each time even harder than the last.

You and Mike were drenched in sweat, looking like you just conquered an epic adventure.

Your back was continuously arched off of the couch as he kept railing into you.

Your entire body was tingling with pleasure, and you knew you could get addicted to this feeling.

Mike slamming into you at just the right angle, the feeling of his body moving against yours, and before you knew it, Mike had reached his hand down between your bodies to begin stroking faster and faster, and each time a new sound came from your mouth, devoured from his own mouth.

You were officially done for after that. It was all too much, but it was so, so good.

“Please cum for me, my sweet boy. C’mon.” Mike gritted out, and that was all you had needed to hear.

You clenched around Mike’s cock and you came, your eyes rolling on the back of your head. All you could do while riding out your orgasam was squirm from the overstimulation, Mike still pounding into you as he was chasing his own orgasm.

Feeling the tightness of your body, he couldn't hold back any longer, his own release spurting deep within you.

Mike, who had been resting on top of you, shifted to lie beside you, the couch barely wide enough to accommodate both of you. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, a mirror to your own breaths as you both began to calm in the quiet aftermath

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the reality of what had just transpired between you and Mike barely beginning to settle in. It felt surreal, like a dream spun from the depths of your imagination, and yet the solid warmth of Mike beside you was a comforting reminder that it had indeed happened.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a gentle nudge against your cheek. Mike was nuzzling you, his stubble a rough but comforting texture against your skin. The affectionate gesture pulled you back to the present, grounding you in the moment and dispelling any lingering disbelief.

He turned his head slightly, capturing your lips in a quick, tender kiss that spoke of both contentment and lingering desire. When he pulled back, a hint of shyness flickered in his eyes, an endearing contrast to the confidence he had shown just moments before.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet room. "Do you want to sleep in the bed with me? The couch isn't exactly comfortable for the night."

His invitation caught you off guard, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat from earlier. A smile broke across your face, broad and genuine, as you nodded, the simple gesture carrying a weight of unspoken emotion.

"I'd like that," you replied, your voice infused with a joy that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Next on the list is a Josh Futturman fic from a request on wattpad.

[bloodybreakupscene]

-> 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘.

mike schmidt x reader

◗ mike comes back from work and u guys talk for a bit; he's very grateful for you.

◗　wrote this during school and it was most definitely NOT the most embarrassing thing ive done at school!! anyway enjoy

he's so tired, he's always so tired. he has been for a while now. it’s not entirely unnoticeable, ever since you’ve been babysitting abby he’s had bags under his eyes and wrinkles on his face. not that you really minded at least, he was trying. 

it was 6:35 when he came back to the small house he lived in. the door opened as you tried to fight back the sleepiness still left in your eyes. you tossed the blanket off of you to try and help with this problem. mike sets all of his belongings on the dinner table and looks at you. 

"morning." 

"g' morning" you manage to get out, stretching your arms and grabbing your car keys and bag with miscellaneous things,. "abby ate a bit more today, she added two more drawings to the wall." 

"that's good. she still refuses to talk to me after i brought our aunt over." 

“oh. . . that’s what she was talking about.”

“huh?” he looks up from his stuff that he was putting away (shoving into the small drawer in the hallway. “what’d she say?”

“‘dunno, something about giving her away.” 

mike sighs, “i wasn’t going to do that. she just. . . ran away before i could explain anything.”

“mm’ im sure she just didn’t understand.” you attempt to comfort him. “she definitely seems better today.” 

“good. . . i really can’t thank you enough (y/n).” he looks into your eyes as he says this, you can feel heat rising to your face as you immediately try to calm down.

“it’s fine! i mean it’s okay, i like being here.” you smile.

“it’s not much but it’s all i have right now.” he hands you a ten and five dollar bill. you felt a tad bit guilty but took the money anyway; money is money, you think. 

“thanks mike.”

“no thank you, really, i should be giving you more but, yeah.”

“well. . .i better get going..” he walks you towards the front door and waves as you walk away, a small smile on his face as he watches you drive away. he doesn’t smile often but it seems so natural when he’s with you. unbeknownst to him, a small body walks up behind him.

“do you like them?”

“abby! jeez.”

[ennabear]

girlfriend!abby 💫

⋆✦⋆ she always buys you flowers because she thinks it’s a perfect way to show you how much she loves you!!! and she likes going to antique stores to find vases with cool patterns and buying them for you.

⋆✦⋆ every last one of her pennies will be spent on you. no matter how much you protest, she looooves to spoil you and nothing makes her happier than the look on your face when she gets you a surprise gift.

⋆✦⋆ i know i already wrote about this but she loves cuddling you before going to the gym early in the morning. sometimes she’ll get a little bit carried away and smother sleepy kisses all over your face and accidentally wake you up :((( she apologizes so many times but that’s one of your favorite ways to wake up!!!

⋆✦⋆ she likes to wear your clothes because it reminds her of you. especially if you’re a masc too, you’ll never get your clothes back, sorry!! they’re hers now.

⋆✦⋆ some of the pet names she calls you are honey, sweet girl, and babe. but she also frequently calls you dude and bro just to piss you off.

⋆✦⋆ there’s always a book on her nightstand!!! she likes to read before bed or when she wants some time away from her phone. if you ask her for book recs she could write you a whole list of the best books she’s read and an in depth rating without spoilers.

⋆✦⋆ most of the furniture in her house/apartment was built or put together by her, including the bookshelf. she could sit on the floor for hours putting together an ikea coffee table while occasionally stopping to watch whatever music video was playing on the tv.

⋆✦⋆ her gym routine is very specific!!! she has designated days for legs, arms, full body, and two rest days a week. and she makes sure she eats 3 meals a day and a snack, drinks enough water, and gets enough rest.

⋆✦⋆ taking care of herself is super important, but she also loves taking care of you. knowing that she can keep you safe and happy makes her feel so proud!!! and whenever she has a rest day, she’ll spend the whole day cuddling you, cooking for you, doing skincare together, etc. she’s such a sweet gf :((

⋆✦⋆ she loves roadtrips!!!! just driving a few hours out of town to go exploring, she’ll bring her camera and take sooo many pictures of you to get developed later. and she’ll go with you to every shop you want to and she’ll buy you anything you look at!!

⋆✦⋆ lowkey she’s kind of a clean freak. growing up with jerry she was taught how to wash her hands like real doctors do, how to thoroughly clean and disinfect a space, how organization can impact your mood, all that jazz. she gets a lot of her traits from her dad actually, it’s so adorable.

⋆✦⋆ i’m convinced she’s the type of girl to take an edible and then clean the whole house because she suddenly felt super productive. you’ll come home to her cleaning, shirtless because she got too warm, with her music playing. and then she’ll fall asleep right on top of you. <33

⋆✦⋆ taking you to meet jerry would be super fun!! he’s such a sweet guy, and the love he has for his daughter is so adorable. he’s definitely the type of dad to go through an entire photo album of baby/kid/teen abby the first time you meet him.

⋆✦⋆ once she asks you to move in (after only like 6 months of dating) she loves to decorate the space with stuff that represents the two of you. she probably has a pride flag hanging in a window, and she has a hook for her carabiner right next to the door.

⋆✦⋆ she’s super close with her friends!! she’d love to take you on a double date with the two of you, manny, and whoever he was currently seeing. and you can count on her to always show up to leah and jordan’s shitty parties, even though they always end up super boring.

⋆✦⋆ she loves lazy sunday mornings when she gets to cling onto you the whole day and never let you go. she’ll hold you in bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the kitchen, on the porch, in the middle of the grocery store, anywhere!!! she just can’t get enough of you!! ;)

[pirrusstuff]

Sooo my little brother (he's 6) and I watch 911 together, I make shure to skip the parts he shouldn't be seeing and sometimes I have to explain some stuff to him, etc. so here are some of his opinions

Bobby is his favorite character, his number 1 like he says

He LOVES Chimney

Buck is his second favorite because he wants to be as tall as him

Shannon defender

Abby hater

Thought Buvk and Eddie were a couple for a long time

He covered his eyes with his hands during THE kitchen scene because he thought they were going to kiss

Taylor Kelly defender

Thinks that Buck's loft is the coolest house

He wishes he could be friends with Christopher

He cried when Buck was struck by the lightning ( he though he was gone gone)

Doesn't like Athena too much ( he's afraid of cops a little bit)

He likes Maddie because she reminds him of our mom

He wants to see more of Karen's work

He hasn't seen the last season because it's not available in Spanish yet soooo he's probably going to have some new opinions as soon as he sees it.

[lavendertom]

The Neighbor Across the Street pt. 2

Mike Schmidt x Babysitter!f!Reader

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none! fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, tiny age gap (as always, lmk if there’s anything i’ve missed)

summary: the neighbor across the street needs a babysitter, so you take the job, not knowing what’s in store for you as you grow closer to the siblings.

quick note, AU where nothing bad happens at the pizzeria, so we r diverging from that storyline slightly. more info to come next part :) happy reading!

——————————————————————————

“Mike! Y/n is here!” Abby shouted through the house.

You had just walked through the front door of the Schmidt house. You had been Abby’s babysitter for just over a month now, but tonight was different. It was going to be your first night shift. Mike had just started a new security gig where he had to work a few nights each week.

So far, it’s been great babysitting Abby. The two of you have grown closer, doing more and more activities together. It rarely felt like work babysitting Abby. Becoming closer to Abby meant you were also, slowly but surely, growing closer to Mike.

You were hanging up your jacket on the coat hanger next to the door, looking up just in time to see Mike standing in the hallway in front of you. He had his usual attire on: some kind of long sleeved shirt with a jacket, a pair of jeans, and some old tennis shoes. But this time, a vest sporting the phrase “security” was worn over his jacket.

“Nice halloween costume.” you said sarcastically, holding in a small laugh.

“Don’t judge.” he said sighing, rolling his eyes. “Only I can hate it.”

“I’m just messing with you. You give that vest character.” you said, playfully pushing his shoulder as you walked past each other. You headed over to Abby as she sat at the dinner table, pushing her food around on her plate. “What’s up Abs?”

“Nothing. Can you tell Mike to stop making this stuff? It sucks.” she said looking up at you.

“Thanks for the feedback, next time I’ll leave dinner all up to you.” he said as he grabbed his keys and backpack. The young girl rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at him when his back was turned. You pulled a chair to sit with Abby at the table when Mike walked over.

“You gonna be okay tonight?” Mike asked you, he placed his hands on the backs of the chairs. This was probably the 20th time he asked you this. He knew nights weren’t what you signed up for, but you were flexible and didn’t mind the change of plans.

“Yes, I promise. My parents are just across the street if we need anything.” you said with a smile.

“Alright, my phone number’s on the fridge if you need anything.” If only you knew I already had it memorized. “Abs you gotta be in bed by 9:30, you understand? You have school in the morning. Don’t give y/n a hard time.” Mike said as he ruffled Abby’s hair, kissing her head.

“Sounds like a plan.” you said, looking at Mike as he headed towards the door. “See you in the morning.”

He looked at you one last time before saying his goodbyes, shutting the door behind him. It wasn’t long before Abby had her first activity recommendation of the night.

“Can we have a movie night before bed?” she asked you. You decided to donate some of your old favorite movies to the siblings, giving Abby a whole new array of movies to choose from.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” you asked.

“The Little Mermaid!” she squealed.

The two of you made some popcorn, even allowing Abby a cup of her favorite soda, before settling down with some cozy blankets and pillows for your movie night. You watched as the girl sat in awe at the film playing before her eyes.

You always hoped to see the day a young child’s eyes would light up from experiencing your favorite films from your childhood. You never thought that feeling would’ve come from seeing Abby experience the magic for the first time.

You both sat watching the film intently, occasionally throwing a handful of popcorn into your mouths.

“Do you ever wish you’ll find a prince like Ariel?” Abby randomly blurted out.

“Yeah, I think it would be nice.” you said, not giving much thought to the silly question. Abby often asked questions like these. “Do you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m too little.” she scrunched her nose.

“Good answer.” you said with a small laugh.

You turned your attention back to the movie, taking a sip of your drink.

“I think Mike���s still waiting for his princess.” the young girl blurted out again. This time, it caught you off guard.

“Yeah?” you asked, choking on your soda a bit.

“He’s always so sad and tired. Maybe a princess would cheer him up.”

“What kind of princess do you think he would like?”

“Someone to make him laugh. Someone who gives him a big hug when he is sad. Someone who makes better mac and cheese than he does.”

You smiled at the girl listening to her list off all of the qualifications.

“That sounds like the perfect princess Abs.”

“You would be a good princess for Mike.” she blurted yet again, eyes still on the screen, catching you off guard once more.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, feeling your face warm up. You thought about that comment the rest of the night.

You somehow managed to get Abby to bed at 10, which isn’t bad considering how much she loves talking and playing with you. She went down fairly quickly, giving you the rest of the night to yourself.

You flipped through the channels on the TV, trying to stay awake, also trying not to think about Abby’s comment earlier. “You would be a good princess for Mike.” Ultimately, you failed, falling asleep to the sound of the 12am news.

At around 4:30am, you heard the sound of shuffling at the door, sitting up groggily to see what the fuss was. The door quietly opened and you heard the sound of a backpack hit the floor.

“I’m so sorry, did I wake you up?” Mike whispered.

“No it’s all good. I just kind of woke up on my own.” you replied, half lying, with a small yawn. “I tried to stay awake but the TV line up in the middle of the night isn’t fantastic.”

“You’re fine, y/n. You deserve rest while you’re on the job. You have class tomorrow anyways.” he said as he went to sit on the recliner next to the couch you laid on. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, it felt like forever. “How’d Abby do?”

“Great as always.” you said rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes. “We watched a movie, I might’ve given her a soda. She went to bed at around 10, but I don’t blame her I was her age once too.”

“That’s good. No problems?”

“When has there ever been any problems, Mike.” you said with a chuckle. More silence filled the air.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

He thought for a moment, hesitating before he spoke up. “Thank you for all you do for us. I’ve really seen a change in Abby lately and there’s no doubt you are a big part of that.”

“Of course.” you said with a smile. “Abby’s a great kid.”

“You know things haven’t been easy.” he said with a sigh. “I think you bring just a little more happiness in her life – in our lives.”

You looked at him for a moment, noticing his eyes like you did the first time you met him. They were still that shade of brown with the little green specks, but this time they were filled with sadness. He looked absolutely drained. He knew you noticed the hopelessness in the interaction.

“I’m sorry about that, didn’t mean to drop any of this on you.” he said looking down at his hands.

“Mike, it’s okay.” you said softly, reassuring him. You just honestly didn’t know what to say.

You stood up from your place on the couch, watching him sit up a little taller in his own chair.

“Come here.” you said quietly, surprised he even heard you.

He stood up, stepping towards you quietly not to wake up Abby with the creaky floorboards. Once he was right in front of you, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. It took him a second until he also put his arms around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his shirt. You guys just stood there for a minute, you waited until he let go. You knew he needed this. You knew all of those things Abby told you earlier were true.

He finally let go, taking a small step back as your hands rested on his shoulders.

“You guys are going to be okay. I’m here for both of you.” you said looking into his eyes.

“I promise I’ll have the money by the end of the week.” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“Don’t worry about the money. You worry about you and Abby, whenever you have the money will be okay.” you said as you removed your hands from his shoulders.

“Are you sure? You have things you need to take care of too. College tuition is enough to worry about.”

“It’s okay, Mike. I’ll be fine.” you said with a soft smile. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, same time?”

“Yeah.” he said as you walked to the door grabbing your jacket. He followed behind. “Thanks again.”

He pulled you in for another quick hug, before you opened the door, waved bye, and began walking home. He stayed at the door until you safely crossed the street, like he always does, before closing it.

That morning, Abby had a lot to say about her movie night with you to Mike.

“She let me have soda before bed, Mike!” Abby exclaimed while she took a bite of her toast. “And we watched The Little Mermaid, and I asked her if she ever wished she had a prince like Ariel.”

“You know y/n is busy Abs. She has lots of homework, she doesn’t have time for princes.” Mike told his sister as he flipped through some mail. It was true though, some days you would end up doing homework during most of your time babysitting.

“She said it would be nice, then I told her that you definitely need a princess, and I told her that your princess needs to be funny and–���

“Alright Abby I think it’s time for you to go to school now.” Mike said, quickly interrupting her before she could say anymore.

“What?” she questioned him.

“Nothing.” he said standing up to grab his keys, avoiding looking at his little sister.

“I knew it! You have a crush on Y/n!” she said with a gasp.

“I do not, Abs.”

“I won’t tell her, I’ll keep it a secret, I promise!”

“Abs, I don’t have a crush on anyone. People don’t have crushes when they’re adults.”

“You’re blushing, Mike.” she said giggling as she ran to grab her backpack. When she returned, Mike was just heading out the door. Abby picked up her shoes, walking out of the door behind him.

As the pair walked to Mike’s extremely worn out Honda Accord, it just so happened you were also heading to your car just across the street. Abby took notice of this quickly, making sure not to miss this moment to embarrass her brother even more. It’s what little sisters do.

“Hey Y/n!” she shouted, making sure to drag out the ending super long.

“Hey Abby!” you shouted back. “Have a good day at school!”

“Mike say hi.” Abby said to her brother.

“Abby.” he said back, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Say it now or I’ll tell Y/n you have a crush on her.”

He gave you a small wave and a smile as he unlocked the doors.

“See you guys tonight!” you said happily as you got in your car.

“You so have a crush on Y/n.” Abby said one last time, grinning, just for good measure.

[tac-the-unseen]

hiiii how r u? ❤️

can you do alphabet SFW for hannigramx reader? 💕

Hannigram x Reader SFW alphabet 

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hannibal is an acts of service kind of guy. He cooks, he cleans, he helps with work, But that's just surface level stuff he does for everyone he's around. When it comes to relationships Hannibal is more of words of affirmation and physical touch. 

Will has one setting, Quality time. Sitting down to watch a show, Fishing, Long walks, Puzzles and games. All stuff he enjoys and likes sharing with his partners!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hannibal and Will are tough nuts to crack. To have to prove yourself as trustful and reliable before they start a relationship with you. (Hannibal may or may not have had his sights set on you before he even spoke to you.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hannibal enjoys occasional cuddles and hugs. He definitely needs them from time to time, but can go for a long while before he's desperate for affection.

Will simply doesn't like being touched. Tough

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Both men want a quite simple lives…. eventually…but they still have a little bit more murder in them 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Hannibal might kill you and eat you OR let you go on with your life (he will always be there, you just won't know it)

Will is a respectful gentleman and understands not all relationships work out. He'll have a long chat with you before parting ways.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

They Both want to get married. Simple as that! (Hannibal is totally a groomzilla)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Yes and No. 

They do have Gentle moments with each other, but they do get covered in blood quite often. But surprisingly the Gore can be very soft and gentle from time to time. Even down right romantic if you catch them on the right occasion. 

But you're dating two cannibals, so you already knew that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Sometimes, they like to keep the PDA to a minimum. 

Also hugs isn't always their kind of affection, They will absolutely give hugs if you ask, but they like words of affirmation a bit more.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

YEARS. These men use verbal word play to convey affection. If they outright say ‘I Love you’, you can expect them or you to be dying.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Absolutely. They do undoubtedly have confidence in you and the relationship, but they just can't help a guy testing their smooth moves on you. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses are pretty rare When it comes to Hannibal and Will. Kisses are saved for special occasions and bedroom activities. BUT, if it is to occur, they're pretty soft and sensual.

Hannibal Targets the lips, knuckles, shoulders, and chest.

Will Targets the lips, neck, face, and stomach.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

……Oh…..good?......RIP Abby….

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Hannibal is up bright and early at 4:00 am. He has a whole morning routine that takes him an hour to complete. At 5:00 he makes breakfast and goes through all the appointments he has that day. At 6:00 he's out the door and off to work.

Will wakes up, lays in bed for a few minutes, uses the bathroom, and goes downstairs to eat breakfast. He heads out for work around 6:30 ish.

If they have both managed to score a day off at the same time, breakfast is pushed back and hour. Not because Hannibal spends more time in bed, but because he gets to spend more time in his grooming routine. Hannibal spends an additional hour in the bathroom cleaning himself up. 

Will on the other hand does stay in bed. He waits until Hannibal is done, uses the bathroom, and goes back to bed until breakfast is ready. He's a very simple guy. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Hannibal has a Bedtime routine that also takes quite some time. (Yes, he will occasionally skip all of that to just hop into bed, but that's not often.) If you're all close enough (and there's room) He'll let you and Will get in the shower with him. At the end he slides into the far right side of the bed and lets you and will cuddle with him.

Will takes a shower, brushes his teeth, and get into the far left side of the bed. On occasion Hannibal will force him into his own routine (which involves a lot of oils and creams) that Will is not all that pleased to be doing. 

If you're a very cuddly person, cling to Hannibal. He loves feeling needed and in control. 

If you're not a cuddly person, turn and face Will. Will isn't the biggest fan of physical touch so you'll be (relatively) left alone.

O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say  everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

HA. 

Hannibal HAS to be in your head first before he even considers opening up in the slightest. 

Will is closed off until Hannibal reassures him that you're trustworthy. 

This could takes years.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Do they get angry easily, yes. But they are in it for the long con. 

They have taken years playing with their prey before they kill them. Their patients is through the roof. 

Hannibal is the more patient one of course, but Will is also slow moving evil in a vest. 

Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little  detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hannibal remembers everything you tell him. He soaks up that information like a sponge. 

Will might forget a few things but over all remembers most of what you tell him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Hannibal: 

Hannibal texts you later in the day to tell you he'll be home late. He feels bad and tries to get through the night as quickly as possible. 

When he eventually comes home he could smell a savory scent coming from the kitchen. He creeps up softly to the kitchen and peaks inside. 

There you are, doing your damn best to make dinner. He found it really sweet and let you work it out alone. 

Was it the best meal he ever had? No. Was it the one He loved the most? Yes!

Will: 

During one of the lowest points of his life He genuinely couldn't be alone. He felt like he could rely on anyone but desperately needed help, so he ended up calling you. 

You were there within an hour with an overnight bag. 

You stayed with him all night and the next day. You made sure he slept, ate, and showered. He's never forgotten that, and thinks of that act of kindness daily.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Both of them have killed for you, and will do it again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Hannibal will put in maximum effort in all dates. He puts in the works, food, wine, place, timing, all of it 

Will will do his best, plan something nice, Wear something presentable. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

…. Despite the obvious…Hannibal can't stop staring into your soul. His gaze can pass through anyone. It's bone chilling at the best of times.

Will…. Will has one of the most infamous killers of all time in the palm of his hand. He absolutely uses that to his advantage.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hannibal 90% sometimes He couldn't be bothered, most the time he is. 

Will 50%, He's been out and about missing some clothing. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Hannibal loves hard. Obsessively. He stalks, he creeps, he prowls, he peeps. There are no secrets, he already knows. He loves knowing, That's how he shows it.

Will needs support, well he could survive a while without you, after a few hours you will be bombarded with texts and calls. He'll be all pretty over the phone telling you he just needs to hear your voice. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Headcannons here 😘

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

•Undependable 

•bad punctuality 

•tied down 

•uneducated 

•non-adaptable 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Hannibal doesn't need any fancy stuff to sleep, But he loves to pretend he does. Face masks, thick pillows, soft heavy blankets, lotions, candles, sound machines, etc. It makes me feel high and mighty 

Will will fall asleep in his work clothes, Jeans and all.

They will of course cuddle you if you ask. 

Thanks for reading <3

[unrealisticlea]

I know I said since s1 that the only thing that would make me truly stop watching the show is Bobby leaving because he’s my favourite character and my favorite thing about the show is Buck and Bobby relationship.

I still think that. However, when I said it, I never imagined the show would break my heart so cruelly and out of nowhere.

I was disappointed by 911 many times before. I was disappointed when Buck and Abby got together in s1 because I thought it was creepy. I was disappointed by Hen cheating. I hated every single “Blue Lives Matter” storylines and there were many of them. I never rewatched season 5 because I couldn’t stand the show with half of the main cast gone. Don’t get me started on season 6, and how they treated what could have been some potentially very powerful storylines as jokes (Madney Engagement, Eddie’s loneliness, Buck’s being a sperm donor). I thought I was done with the show after season 6 because I hated the “everyone gets a nuclear family” ending. I wanted buddie to happen and the 6x18 gave me the clear idea that it wasn’t gonna happen.

I came back every time because those stuff never felt malicious. And I’m a grown-up and I know some of them I didn’t like because of my own expectations and other simply didn’t cater to my taste.

but this time I did nothing wrong. I didn’t interpret colors and furniture like I did with buddie. I didn’t get my own hopes up about Buck getting some character growth like I did with the Sperm Donor storyline.

I interpreted the show at face value and they were the one who got my expectations up and they were the one who told me that Tommy was good for Buck and they were the one who told me Tommy was a good boyfriend. They were the one who showed me this lonely man who was only looking for a family and got very close to being incorporated into the show’s found family. They were the one who clearly wanted me to care about the character and the relationship.

I don’t know if they changed their mind, if there were BTS issues, if they gave into the bullying and I honestly don’t care. This show broke my heart once again and I don’t care why it did it this time because for the first time in 8 seasons it feels like it broke my heart on purpose and they did nothing to soften the blow.

I always came back because 911 was always very careful with the audience’s feelings and it always felt like it strived to be people’s comfort show about what’s good about humanity and about showing up for each other, despite everything.

and this feels like the opposite of that, they got so many people invested in Tommy’s happiness and in his relationship with Buck and then out of nowhere they took everything away. There was no sad ending and no happy ending, there was no ending, it was just interrupted.

and I’m sorry, I still love every character and I would love to see more of Bobby but i don’t watch shows that break their audience’s hearts on purpose. kudos for you if you do. but I’m not brave enough. life is already hard as it is.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

you mentioned in the tags of that burnout post that its been 6 years and you still havent gotten to everything you wanted to in laoft, just out of curiosity are there any fics youve had in mind since the beginning/early on that youre still planning on writing but havent yet?

mostly prequels ive referenced but never gotten around to actually writing

the time as young teens/middle schoolers roman fell out of tree, hit his head and lost consciousness and logan had a week-long catastrophic meltdown about it (this is titled 'logan and the terrible horrible no good very bad week' in my documents)

a fic about very early LAMP dealing with/talking out romans habit of agreeing to or initiating things he doesnt actually want to do in order to protect himself from anything he perceives as them being mad at him

midquel during what you choose to put in the ground, were patton and logan discuss roman the day after meeting him and whether or not theyre going to try and be his friend

Virgil misunderstanding a human cultural thing because of movies/tv and assuming its like, Legally Required Of Him to ask permission of LMPs parents to marry them, so he goes to shelley first sweating bullets and shelleys like 'oh sweetheart' and we get a little bonding moment for them

more companions to Wit where i show all of the lamp combos moment of Realization when they fall in love

silly tea leaf reading fic that been languishing 3 sentences long for like 5 years

may and night!roman the first time she teaches him magic

logans flower shop opening

death threat jar.... TWO

gc goes camping

may and roman visiting abby's grave when he's a kid (9-10) and him feeling conflicted about it because he doesnt remember her/worrying he doesnt love her 'enough'

a more bittersweet companion to Requiem with Linda and Remus and their families

i really want to do more guidebook entries but i got a new computer and lost my copy of clipstudio and cant figure out how to get it back XD so i have to wait until i figure that out or buy a new copy

May + virgil hurt/comfort reminiscing about Greta and Trudi.

Dot and Larry romance fic featuring alternating cheerleader and heckler abby

analogical word association games (analogical because logan has a ginormous vocabulay and virgil is hundreds of years old, so the goal winds up being trying to say a word the other doesnt know or doesnt know enough words to play off of)

We've had badass protective LAM but i have one for Patton thats languishing as well

Virgil stumbling up on the Gage's hunting blind, which used to be Greta and Toby's house and is now derelict

fae specific idioms vs wickhills specific idioms

fire poker drama with roman and dot - he finds out about it and is uuuuuh. unhappy, to say the least

roman doing knot/weaving/braiding magic like his mom on his and linda's hair

a day in the life of dr. emile picani the only psychotherapist in a town full of magically traumatized people only he is qualified to treat (AKA So Much Pressure)

Dot and Larry with a very young Logan realizing that they have a child who physically can't lie and that it would therefore be extremely easy for them to violate his boundaries and privacy without even meaning to, and them talking about how to handle that

theres other stuff in the someday file, but these are the once ive had from or almost from the start

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱? 𝔑𝔬, 𝔒𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: When Mike calls you for help with Abby, a simple favor turns into a tense confrontation with his aunt, who questions your place in their lives. As she tries to drive a wedge between you and Mike with her hostile remarks, you stand up for the family you're building together, proving your unwavering support. Mike, overwhelmed by your loyalty, pulls you into a moment of intense passion.

Content Warning: This story contains themes of judgment and skepticism along with instances of homophobia, manipulation, and verbal abuse. (Nothing too serious or explicit though). Reader discretion is advised.

Tags: Part 3 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Blowjob (reader receiving). Riding. If you have an idea for a part 4, please let me know <3. I love spending time in reading others opinions

Words count: 4500

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 -Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8

The afternoon stretched lazily before you, the sunlight filtering through your dorm room window as you packed away your books. There were no more classes to attend, and for once, a rare moment of calm settled over you. Just as you were about to take a break, your phone buzzed insistently on the table. You glanced at the screen.

Mike's name flashing.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you answered.

"Hey," Mike greeted, though his voice carried the unmistakable edge of stress. "Sorry to bother you, but I really need a favor." There was a pause, and you could almost picture him on the other end, running a hand through his hair, his posture tense as he spoke. "I need someone to pick up Abby and take her to her friend's house. She's got that sleepover she's been excited about. I'd go myself, but I'm buried in stuff for the custody battle, and I can't get away."

You could hear the strain in his voice, the tightness that spoke of too many worries stacked on top of each other. It was the same tone he often used when he felt overwhelmed but didn't want to show it. Without missing a beat, you nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Of course, Mike. I'm on it," you assured him, your voice firm and certain.

"Thanks," he said, his voice softening for a moment, and you could hear the genuine relief in that single word. "You're a lifesaver."

When you arrived at the place, the air was filled with the usual cacophony of children's laughter and the chatter of parents. The building was bright, colorful murals on the walls depicting cartoon animals and cheerful scenes of nature. As you pushed open the doors and walked in, you felt a shift in the atmosphere.

Heads turned, and a sudden hush seemed to fall over the room. The mothers gathered near the entrance exchanged glances, their conversations tapering off as their eyes followed you with a mix of curiosity and quiet judgment.

You could almost feel their gaze assessing every detail: the way your clothes hung on you, the youth in your face that contrasted sharply with the tired lines etched into theirs.

You squared your shoulders, doing your best to ignore the prickle of their stares. Dr. Lillian stood by the door, clipboard in hand.

When her gaze landed on you, her brows knit together slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Can I help you?" Dr. Lillian asked, her tone professional but with a hint of wariness that suggested she was already trying to place who you were. You offered her a small, polite smile, your hands tucked nervously into your jacket’s pockets.

"I'm here to pick up Abby," you explained, feeling the eyes of the other moms still on you, like they were collectively holding their breath. "I'm, uh, Mike's boyfriend."

For a moment, Dr. Lillian said nothing, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she studied you. It was as if she was weighing your words, trying to reconcile them with whatever expectations she might have had.

The silence stretched, every second feeling heavier than the last.

You could feel the judgment radiating from the gathered mothers, a silent chorus of disapproval that buzzed like static at the back of your mind.

They didn't say anything outright, but their whispered comments and sidelong glances spoke volumes: too young, too out of place, too unfamiliar. You could practically hear their thoughts, each one a prick against your skin.

Dr. Lillian's eyes flicked briefly to the cluster of moms, catching the murmurs that rippled through the group, their mouths hidden behind manicured hands as they leaned into one another with expressions of subtle distaste. The woman’s frown deepened, her skepticism clear as day, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your heartbeat quickening.

You felt their judgment like a physical weight pressing down on you, your skin prickling under the heat of their stares. It wasn't just that you were younger than Mike, though that certainly added to their curiosity. It was the fact that you were stepping into a role that, in their eyes, you had no business stepping into.

Finally, Dr. Lillian spoke, her voice careful, almost too neutral. "I see," she said, her gaze still locked onto yours. "And Mike couldn't make it today?"

You shook your head, trying to explain. "He's caught up with some important work legal matters. He asked me to come pick her up and take her to her friend's house for a sleepover."

Dr. Lillian regarded you for another long moment, and you could tell she was assessing you, trying to decide if you were trustworthy. But before she could say anything more, a small figure came bounding towards you from the classroom. It was Abby, her face lighting up the second she saw you.

"There he is!" Abby's joyful cry cut through the tension like a knife as she ran up to you, her little arms reaching out for a hug. You crouched down just in time to catch her, scooping her up as she giggled happily.

Her small legs wrapping tightly around your waist. The sheer enthusiasm in her embrace sent a wave of relief washing over you, and you couldn't help but smile at her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Abby's joy was infectious, her grin wide and unreserved as she tugged on your hand, dragging you over to where her friend was waiting. "This is my friend!" she exclaimed proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she introduced you.

Dr. Lillian's expression softened at the sight, her skepticism melting as she observed Abby's unfiltered happiness. It was hard to argue with that kind of unguarded enthusiasm, and for a moment, she seemed to reconsider whatever reservations she might have had.

Abby was beaming, and the teacher, perhaps sensing the sincerity in her joy, nodded slowly, sending a pointed look at the other mothers whose judgmental whispers were now met with a silent rebuke.

With that single, subtle gesture, Dr. Lillian dismissed the underlying scrutiny from the room, her posture relaxing slightly as she glanced back at you.

"I see," she said, her tone more sweet now, though the hint of caution still lingered. "Well, Abby seems happy to see you." She turned her attention fully to Abby, offering her a warm smile. "You have fun with your friend, okay?"

Abby nodded enthusiastically, still clutching your hand as she looked up at you with the kind of trust that made your heart swell. Dr. Lillian gave you a final, appraising look, but there was something softer in her gaze now, her approval implied in the way she turned back to her duties, no longer questioning your presence.

Once you dropped Abby at the friend's house, you watched them run inside, giggling and shouting excitedly about their plans. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment that you'd helped make her day.

With Abby safely at her sleepover, you decided to head over to Mike's place to give him the update in person. You knew how much he worried about her, and you figured he'd want to hear directly from you that everything had gone smoothly. Plus, you hadn't heard back from him since his call, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he might appreciate a little company, especially given how stressful things had been lately.

When you arrived at Mike's house and knocked, you heard his footsteps approaching before the door swung open. He looked a little tired as always, his hair slightly tousled and the faint shadows under his eyes betraying the strain of the day.

But when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, albeit weary, smile.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you. A quick, soft peck that still managed to make your heart skip a beat. It was his way of saying thank you, his quiet, unspoken gratitude.

"Thanks for doing that," he said, stepping aside to let you in.

"No problem," you replied, squeezing his hand as you stepped through the doorway. "She's all set at her friend's house. They seemed really excited."

Mike nodded, but as you followed him into the living room, you noticed there, sitting stiffly on the couch, was Mike's aunt.

Her presence was like a cold wind blowing through the room, her posture rigid and her expression already set into a hard, disapproving line. She barely acknowledged your entrance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced from Mike to you and back again.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," she said, her voice sharp and condescending. She had the kind of tone that suggested she was used to getting her way, her words laced with an undercurrent of disdain that immediately put you on guard.

"I was just telling Mike how important it is for Abby to have a stable home environment. And it definitely is not-“ She gestured vaguely in your direction, her lip curling in distaste “-whatever this is."

Mike's jaw tightened, his calm demeanor visibly strained under the weight of his aunt's hostility.

He stepped closer to you, his hand finding yours in a small, defiant show of solidarity. "This is none of your business," Mike said evenly, though there was a bite to his words that suggested he was holding back more than he let on.

"You're here to talk about Abby, not my personal life."

She scoffed, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. "Your personal life directly affects Abby," she countered, her gaze now fixed firmly on you. "You think it's appropriate for her to be exposed to this? Two men playing house? It's confusing and, frankly, irresponsible. She needs a stable, traditional environment."

You could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, a hot, bubbling frustration that threatened to spill over.

You knew what she was really after, it wasn't about Abby's well-being, but about money. You'd seen it in the way she maneuvered through every legal loophole, trying to make Mike's life as difficult as possible.

Mike squeezed your hand, a silent plea for patience, but you could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his aunt's words cut deeper than he'd ever admit. She wasn't just attacking you, she was undermining everything Mike had worked so hard for, all the sacrifices he'd made to be there for Abby.

“Now that I think about this little arrangement of yours. It's all so convenient, isn't it?" She paused, letting the weight of her words settle like a noose tightening around your neck. "Mike saw how you looked at him, didn't he? How you were desperate for his attention. And he played you like a fiddle, didn't he? Using that puppy-dog crush of yours to get exactly what he wanted."

She wasn't done. Oh, no, she had more to say, and it was clear she was savoring every moment of it.

"He's using you," she sneered, her voice dripping with icy contempt. "You're nothing more than a convenient babysitter for Abby. Someone to watch her without costing him a dime. And let's not forget the sex. Oh, that's just a nice little perk, isn't it, Mike?”

His arm, which had been resting lightly around your waist, suddenly tightened, pulling you closer as if to shield you from her venomous words.

"That's not true," Mike said, his voice low and trembling with barely controlled anger. His eyes, usually so calm and gentle, were now filled with a fierce protectiveness, his gaze locked onto his aunt with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “I would never— never use him like that.”

His words were laced with emotion, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. But you could feel the way his hand trembled slightly as it gripped your waist, the way his breath came in short, sharp bursts.

"I genuinely like him," Mike continued, his voice rising slightly, betraying the depth of his frustration. "He's not just some... some tool to be used when it's convenient. He's-" you placed your hand over his, squeezing gently to signal him to stop.

The simple gesture was enough to break through his anger, and he fell silent, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the need to defend you warring with the exhaustion that had been weighing him down for weeks. You offered him a small, reassuring smile, letting him know that you understood, that you appreciated his defense, but that this wasn't worth losing himself over.

You'd had enough.

"Wow," you began, your voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and cool detachment, "you really went all out with that one, didn't you? I mean, it's almost impressive how far you're willing to stretch the truth just to make yourself feel better."

"You have no idea what's best for Abby, and neither does he!" She jabbed a finger towards Mike, her frustration boiling over. "You're both too young, too reckless, and you're making a mockery of what it means to raise a child!"

You could feel your pulse in your ears, a steady thrum of determination that pushed you to meet her gaze without flinching. "It’s ironic that you call us reckless when you’re the one trying to uproot Abby from a loving home for your own gain. Maybe it’s time to rethink who’s really being irresponsible here." you said firmly, your voice unwavering.

Her nostrils flared, her eyes blazing with anger as she glared at you, but there was no rebuttal. The truth of your words hung in the air and you could see the cracks forming in her façade.

With a final, furious huff, she grabbed her purse from the couch, her movements jerky and furious. "This isn't over” she spat, turning on her heel and marching towards the door. She slammed it shut behind her with enough force to rattle the walls, the impact made the door bounced back, swinging open again as if mocking her attempt to make a dramatic exit.

You rolled your eyes at her reaction, moving your legs to close the door. But before you had time to touch the handle, Mike turned you around and pressed you against the door, his body warm and solid against yours, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you in the quiet of the house.

His eyes were open and raw, revealing a depth of emotion that took your breath away. Love, yes, but also a fierce protectiveness, a gratitude so profound it was almost overwhelming.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with the weight of the confrontation and the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then, without warning, Mike leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours as his eyes fluttered closed. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

You leaned up, closing the gap between you as your lips met his in a kiss.

His hands were gentle, but there was a trembling undercurrent of need in the way they roamed. One slipping into your hair, the other finding its way to your waist, pulling you in, anchoring you to him. Mike's kiss was urgent, driven by a whirlwind of emotions that had been bottled up for far too long.

He needed this.

Needed to let go of the frustration and the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface.

His hands roamed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

You returned his fervor, your hands trailing up his arms, feeling the strength hidden beneath his skin. You moved with him, letting him guide you back through the hallway, your bodies never parting as you made your way toward his bedroom.

Mike's kisses were insistent, almost desperate, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping underneath to feel the warmth of your skin.

He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "God, you have no idea how much I needed this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words almost a growl as they escaped his throat.

You nodded, your own breath ragged as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

His response was immediate, a fierce pull that had you stumbling back as he pushed forward, never letting the connection break. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell onto the mattress, Mike quickly following, his body hovering over yours.

He looked at you with a mix of reverence and raw hunger.

Mike's kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he lingered, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin.

Mike's grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as he buried his face against your neck, his lips pressing fervent kisses to your skin.

The idea of you standing strong by his side, protecting what was his-what was yours-had driven him to the edge of control. And now, here in this moment, it was all spilling over.

"All mine. My good boy."

He mouthed along the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing lightly, just enough to make you gasp and arch into him.

He was methodical, almost reverent, as he worshiped every inch of you with his mouth, his hands, his entire being.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he took the invitation eagerly, his kisses growing more urgent and demanding.

"God, you're so good," Mike whispered, his voice breaking with emotion as he held you tighter, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss that left you both breathless.

His eyes were dark, half-lidded with desire, but there was also something softer, something deeply affectionate that made your chest tighten.

"So good for me. For us." His praise was a gentle hum against your lips.

He smiled.

A small, lopsided grin that was all Mike, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, a claiming of sorts, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a fervor that left you dizzy. The thought of you, him, and Abby as a family, an unbreakable unit, seemed to feed the fire inside him. It was as if the very notion had unlocked something within him, something primal and possessive, a need to make you his in every sense of the word.

Mike's hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a swift, decisive motion, he stripped you of it, the fabric discarded to the side without a second thought.

The cool air of the room met your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Mike's body as he continued to kiss you, his lips tracing a path of fire down your chest.

Breathing it in, he lets out his tongue to slowly lick the tip of your cock through the fabric, a tingling sensation now courses its way all throughout your body making you a whimpering mess. Biting your lips to suppress the sound, you take your hand to grab a handful of Mike's curly hair.

You feel fingers around the rim of your underwear, as those said fingers pull them. He licks his lips and starts to lick you tip, now without the barrier of a fabric.

You throw your had back, arching your body, pushing your hips close to Mike's face.

Not taking any longer, he submits his mouth to take on your length, reaching up to the back of his throat, this earns him a scream from you, as you whimper more and more with his tongue tracing every vein and ridge.

You didn’t wanted this moment to end too soon.

Your hands instinctively moved to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles there.

For a brief moment, Mike paused, his lips lingering against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

Without words, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and guided him gently. You maneuvered him so that his back was now against the wall of the bedroom, your movements deliberate yet unhurried, a quiet assertion of the control you wanted to share.

Mike's eyes widened slightly at the change, the shift in power as you climbed onto his lap.

His hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm. His gaze roamed over you, a mix of pride and awe lighting up his features, his expression softening as he saw the confidence in your movements.

A slow, wicked smile curled his lips as he teased, "So, my sweet, good boy wants to be in control, huh?" The words were a low, husky murmur, a taunt laced with a deep seated affection that made your heart stutter.

Despite the blush that crept up your neck, fueled by the raw intensity of his gaze, you held his eyes and, with a shy but determined voice, you whispered, "I want to...I want to ride you, Mike. I want to make you feel good."

The admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and you watched as his expression softened, the smirk giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart swell with love. "You already do, baby," he murmured, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you. "But if that's what you want..."

He trailed off, giving you the power to take the lead. The sensation of his strong hands on your hips was intoxicating, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to tether you to reality, even as the rest of the world seemed to blur and fade away.

One by one, you undid them, each click of the fabric parting adding to the electric tension between you. Mike's breath hitched slightly, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself sink into the sensation, the gentle tug of your hands, the soft brush of your fingertips against his skin.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass.

He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle, leaning down to kiss you firmly. “Tell me if it’s too much.” He said calmly.

“No, don’t do it” you told him, head turning as the finger went in deeper.

Leaning down closer Mike kissed you softly, distracting you with that before adding in another finger. “I got you. Just hold onto me.”

Working the two fingers in deeper Mike watched for any reaction, kissing your lips over and over when you squeezed his shoulders.

Suddenly you let out a strangled cry of pleasure, hips bucking upward to press the two fingers in deeper. That was the spot you wanted. He massaged that little area over and over, biting little marks along your shoulders and upper chest.

After the third finger you were begging for more, digging your nails into Mike shoulders and moaning against his lips.

With trembling hands, you reached down, feeling the heat of his arousal through the fabric that still separated you. The anticipation was a slow burn, an exquisite torture as you took your time, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you freed him, your hands sure and steady as you positioned yourself over him.

His gaze never left yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you slowly sank down onto him, the feeling so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, was almost too much, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but you craved it, needed it.

A low groan rumbled from deep within his chest as he watched you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made your heart race. "God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice strained, as though he was holding on to his control by the thinnest of threads.

You began to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that had both of you gasping, the friction between your bodies igniting a fire that consumed you both.

Mike's hands roamed your body, caressing, gripping, guiding you as you moved together, the sounds of your pleasure mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the muffled rustle of sheets.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your body moved above his, and it was clear that he was completely lost in you.

His control slipped as the pleasure built between you, his thrusts meeting yours with a rising urgency, and you could feel the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

The realization that you were doing this to him, that you had the power to bring him to the brink, fueled your own arousal, driving you to move faster, harder.

His thrusts and your bounces becomes sloppier and sloppier, your body fidgeting, twitching, shaking all around, especially around your bottom area. Another set of moans, whimpers and grunts escapes both of your lips, no sign of stopping whatsoever from the immense pleasure you two are receiving from each other.

You place both of your hands in his chest, positioning yourself better to let his cock fuck you harder and vigorously.

When Mike's release finally hit, it was with a guttural cry of your name, his head tipping back against the wall as his body shuddered beneath you. The intensity of his climax triggered your own, and you collapsed against him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you and and fluids fill your body, some of it dripping out of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, hearts pounding in sync as you came down from the high. Mike's hands, which had been gripping you so tightly, softened their hold, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"You”, he whispered, his voice rough and breathless, "you're everything I've ever needed” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You grinned, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "You'd probably have to find another boyfriend to fight off your evil relatives."

Mike let out a mock groan, rolling his eyes playfully. "Please, don't even joke about that. You're one of a kind. And besides, I'm not sure I could handle someone else. They might not be as good at shutting her up."

You both shared a laugh at that, the sound echoing through the quiet room, lightening the atmosphere. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of joy and levity after everything you had both been through.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

[murdrdocs]

hi love, could i please request a mike fic where he comforts his s/o after a failed exam? just happened to me w my pharmacology exam and im super stressed/sad about it :((

i love your fics & looking for some comfort as i sob into my pillow tbh :,)

-🪐

yes ofc ! im not much comfort when it comes to school and stuff (im a school hter) so hopefully a little ficlet will help :)

mike waits by the phone for your call.

he taps his short and dirty nails against the glass table, picking at his cuticles and hang nails to give him something to do with his hands. he itches to pick up the phone and dial your number, but he wants to give you space and time. patience. he's been practicing it lately.

in the meantime, he ogles at his rough hands, a reminder of how busy you'd been lately. your usual nail day with abby, and recently mike as well, had gone by untouched. leaving abby with chipped polish, and mike with undesirable hands, even though he never minded his nail care before you became a regular fixture in his life.

but he'd been patient, watching –– and sometimes just knowing, having not seen you for a while –– you study. watching you work yourself tirelessly over textbooks and scribbled notes. feeding you bites of food while he went through flashcards with you. waking up cold in the mornings when you left earlier than anticipated to get an early start on studying.

and today is the day. well, today was the day. but hours have passed and your exam surely was completed by now and mike hasn't heard from you. it's a sure sign of how it went, but he refuses to come to a conclusion until he hears your voice.

it's not a moment later until he gets his wish.

the phone rings and the second ring is interrupted by mike pulling the receiver up to his ear. "hello?"

it takes you a second to speak, but once you do, mike's face falls. "hey." your greeting is simple, but he hears the misery in the rasp of your voice.

"oh, baby." he doesn't say anything else, and neither do you. instead, mike reads the clock, 6:26 PM, and he looks into the living room to see abby staring at the TV.

"can we come over?"

it's just a little over an hour later and mike is knocking on your front door with abby behind him. he holds two mcdonalds bags, both soaked with grease on the bottom, in his freehand, and behind him, abby has the drink container.

"don't drop it," mike reminds her, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he waits for you to open the door.

"i won't." she grumbles through a determined frown, but her face brightens as the door swings open. abby squeals your name, and mike turns around, a small smile on his face because he'd missed you, too.

there you are in front of him, face a little puffy and eyes a little red, but you smile down at his little sister anyway.

"abby! it's so good to see you." abby thrusts the drinks out towards you, mentioning the mcflurry that sits in the fourth spot with a wide grin. you gasp, "for me?" and abby nods.

abby walks into your house like it's hers, and you don't protest, instead hovering at the door faced with mike. he doesn't mention the exam, he doesn't mention your appearance. instead he pulls you into his chest with one hand, holding the fast food bags out to the side with the other, and presses a kiss into the side of your head.

"it's good to see you," he tells you, voice nothing but earnest.

you hum and mike feels you take a deep breath, as if you're finally relaxing. he expects you to repeat his sentiment, but he's not upset when you don't.

the three of you end up sitting on your living room floor rewatching 'good burger' for at least the tenth time. at this point, abby says the infamous line, doing so cheerfully to the point where you and mike feel weird if you don't do the same.

mike shares his fries with you when you run out, you pretend to not want to share your mcflurry but you end up doing so anyway. all three of you break out into a fit of giggles when mike takes his first sip of coke and chokes with the unexpected strength of it, and more giggles ensue when abby naively does the same.

by the end of the movie, you're full from carbs and sugar and you're cuddled into mike's side, both of your backs against the couch that abby lies asleep on. the credits start to roll when you speak, voice creaky and leaking pure sadness.

"i failed the exam."

it's silent. too silent. your eyes start to water and your throat constricts and suddenly you want to run into your bedroom and shut the door. but you don't. you stay seated, staring at the black screen as the white text starts to blur.

and when mike pulls you closer into his side, it's almost impossible for you to hold the tears back. so you don't.

mike coaxes them out by rubbing along your back, soothing circles up and down your worn in crewneck. you make a mess of his own sweatshirt, snot and tears mixing into a massive wet spot just below the hood at the shoulder.

he doesn't mind one bit, never ceasing his movements even whenever you start to calm down. abby has woken up at this point, and her little voice above you almost startles you.

"is everything okay?" words small, almost timid as if she's afraid of upsetting you more.

mike's chest rumbles. "everything's okay, abs." and then to you, "it's okay."

[highhhfiveee]

to surrender (mike schmidt x reader)

part 2 of "to crumble". part 1: 🩹

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: the ups and downs of y/n and mike, and where they lead them. wc: 8.2k tags: MAJOR, MAJOR ANGST, infidelity, non-graphic depictions of sex, non-graphic ending life ideation, some fluff?, lots of pain.  a/n: this hurt to write, so i'm sorry to all you readers 💔 also, has been proofread but if there are still errors, i'm sawryyyy. also also this is long.

mike can't wait to get home to you.

it's been such a long night, another shift of listless sitting and waiting for something to happen. nothing ever does, and while mike's getting paid to essentially do nothing, he wishes there was some kind of thrill, some kind of excitement. he couldn't believe he'd gone down the career path of protecting forty year old animatronics, and the thought of those creepy things hurried him out of there faster once the clock struck 6 am. 

as soon as he heard his alarm, he was packing up his things and locking up the pizzeria, refusing to look back as he marched to his car. he didn't peek at the building at all, pulling away with his focus centered on you. he thought about you on the couch, having dozed off to infomercials after putting abby down for the night, and how around 2 am, you would jolt awake, dragging your body into the bedroom to complete your slumber. 

it was saturday morning, and he'd walk into a fairly quiet house. he'd drop his stuff off at the front before traversing to the room, sheepishly smiling at your snoring figure. you were so beautiful, a dream that he never wanted to wake up from. he'd take off his clothes and finally replace the cold, empty space that's consistently behind you, hoping to not wake you as he wraps you into his arms and dozes himself, exactly where he wants to be. 

that's sort of how it pans out for him. he drives home in silence, not even taking a second to decompress before he's strolling his way inside. you're on the couch, up and watching a documentary on retirement communities. your eyes flick to him when he enters, and you sit up, yawning and stretching and giving him a languid smile. "morning, baby." 

he takes off his security vest and bag, hanging them on their respective hooks, before dropping to the couch beside you. you nestle into him, rubbing your cheek against the soft material of his t-shirt. "morning. missed you alot."

"missed you more," you coo, reaching up to grab his cheek and tilt his face down towards yours, placing a peck on his soft lips. "so glad it's the weekend. get to spend so much time with you." 

your kisses intensify, your hand slipping to the back of mike's neck so you're able to go deeper, and he clutches your hips, flipping the two of you over so you're under him, all loose limbs and roaming touches. your fingers feel so good on his skin, and it’s like he's being baptized in a way, completely anew by your heavenly touch. this is all he ever wanted; to be. to be with you, happy. 

you pull away from him, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth. the action makes him moan, and once you let go, you're flipping onto your stomach, throwing your tired, lustful eyes at him. "haven't felt you in a while." 

it has been a while. the two of you have been working so much, seen so little of each other that he's sure you haven't had sex in a year. the way you rock against him, swaying your hips from side to side on his pelvis makes him concede. "please? before abby wakes up." 

you don't have to tell him twice. he's unbuttoning his pants and spitting on himself and entering you, both of you softly moaning out at the feeling. he hasn't felt you in so long, and the sensation of your lush, warm walls around him has him seeing static. you're stretching your arms over the back of the couch, arching against it so he's able to get deeper. 

he's so content, so intoxicated with the way he's having you....even just...intoxicated in general.

something's off. 

the pleasure he's getting from you begins to evaporate, and suddenly, nothing feels right. it feels null between his legs, and it's like you're fading from him. you're there, under with your spine poking against your skin and your messy bun thrashing against the crown of your skull, but...something isn’t right. 

mike closes his eyes. he's sure it's just some sort of deja vu, a feeling of disbelief that he's able to have you like this again after so long. he loves you so much, loves that he can be home with you on a saturday morning, only—

mike's not home, and it's not saturday morning.

“c’mon, i gotta go to work soon.” 

the nasally lilt of voice and blue eyes that stare back at mike are all wrong, incorrect from how he knows you. this isn’t you. 

it’s not you at all, and the pieces start to come together. 

it’s friday night, and he’s not at work like he should be. he’s in a warmly lit hotel room, AC window unit churning in the corner, draped by the ugliest taupe curtains he’s ever seen. he feels so disoriented, tasting the malt liquor on his tongue and gazing at his surroundings with bleary eyes while he instinctively moves his hips forward, trying to catch his rhythm again. 

he’s having sex with some girl he met on a hookup website. he's missing work for this, using it as interference for the depression he’s been feeling everyday. it occupies the cavity of his chest with the weight of a million boulders, and even though he's got whiskey dick and he's aware of the infidelity he's committing, he decides that it's better than feeling how he always does. this is better than feeling empty. 

his mind is fuzzy, and he's able to stop thinking about his transgression, holding onto the girl's hips and rocking faster, closing his eyes again.

he lets the feeling take him away, the emptiness of his head chorused by skin smacking and soft whimpers. she's not you, but it didn't matter. he didn't have you anyway. you two had stopped being each other's so long ago, though unofficial. you’d felt like a “girlfriend” all this time, holding a title that no longer fit properly.

mike pretends to come, and he's sure his tryst does too, spasming and moaning in this manufactured way that makes him furrow his eyebrows in distaste. he pulls out and heads to the bathroom without a word, tossing the condom in the trash and eyeing his image as he cleans himself off. 

his eyes were bloodshot, red spiderwebs dancing trapezing along white. he didn't even remember drinking, or organizing this meeting, or how he even decided this was a good idea. he didn't recognize himself looking into the mirror. 

the person staring back at him was the one that ruined everything, and they followed him every time he moved. it solidified the fact that he couldn't escape the liability of what he’d done no matter how hard he tried to absolve it. he was marked with all of his wrongdoings and mistakes, and there was no overcoming that. 

the motel room isn't his, and even after splashing water on his face, hoping and praying that he would wake up from whatever this was, and getting dressed, he's still too drunk to drive. beyond that, where would he go? 

the only two places he had in this stupid town were freddy's and his house, and both were undesirable to him. he wasn't happy anywhere. 

he sits in his car parked outside of the room when everything is said and done. he feels gross. deep down, he can't make sense of what he's done. had the last year soiled his mind that much, leaving him so willing to feel something other than misery that he'd cheat on you? 

once upon a time, you were the love of his life. he wants to believe that you still are, that you're just going through a rough patch and that soon, it will feel like the honeymoon phase again. he thought it would stay blissful like that forever, and maybe that was naive of him, but he'd never been so caught up in someone before. he'd wanted to start a family with you, smiling at the thoughts of little ones running around the halls and saddling your ring finger with a weighty cluster of diamonds. 

he knew that none of that would ever happen now, even if the stress of life dissipated and you two felt at peace enough to begin planning for it. there was no coming back from cheating, especially not since it had happened to you before. he'd promised you he would never hurt you like that, and here he was. a year later and he'd done it in conjunction with so much worse. 

he drops his head in his hands, body convulsing with sobs of agony until the sun comes up. he doesn't sleep. he hasn't slept in almost 24 hours. his skin is dry and raw as he numbly throws his car into drive, somehow getting himself all the way to his side of town. he can't recall the trip, checking back in once he's turning the car off outside of the house. 

he doesn't know how he's supposed to walk inside. 

he almost doesn't, about to go drive his car off a cliff, but you poke your head out of the opened front door, staring at his stiff frame in his driver's seat. you'd been watching him from the living room window since he'd gotten home.

you'd thought he was just decompressing or something, and these days you just left him alone to do whatever he wanted, but after an hour and a half of watching him fail to blink or move, you get concerned.

he shifts his eyes to you, the first motion you've seen him do, and begins to exit the car, a dead man walking as he sulks to the door. you make space for him to enter, closing the door after him and pressing your back to it cautiously. "rough shift?" 

you two rarely talked about anything other than finances or practicalities these days. you'd stopped asking how he was, always wondering but keeping quiet, and he'd done the same. the overarching, desolate dynamic of the entire household spoke for itself. there was no discussion needed to notice it. 

still, mike gives you a curt "mhm", throwing his vest and hoodie on their proper hooks and leaving for the bedroom. the door closes with moderate slam, rattling the picture frames on the wall. one of them falls off, connecting to the ground with a loud shatter. you swear and move over to the mess, blinking away tears. you didn't think you'd ever be used to his apathy towards you, and though it was reciprocated, it was only for your own protection.

you loved mike with your entire being, even now. you wanted the mike you’d known back, but you recognized that he was still inside his being somewhere, pounding at the walls to escape. you were never one to be cold, or standoffish, but your heart wouldn't be able to take that from mike while you tried to give him your all, not again.

you kneel next to all the glass, picking up the damaged frame. inside is a picture of you, mike, and abby at a pumkin patch from last year. mike is kissing your cheek, scrunched up with joy, and abby is holding a pumpkin bigger than her head. 

you all look so happy. 

you can't stop the tears from pouring, drowning yourself in a pool of longing and regret. 

mike doesn't exit the bedroom until later that night. you'd cleaned up the glass and a few other things, using the remainder of your day to spend time with abby. mike had stopped interacting with her altogether, and you could tell how much it hurt her. you always tried to change the subject when she asked you about him, or when her lash line pebbled with tears at the thought of him. 

today, she'd broken your heart on the drive back from the children's museum. 

"i hate mike." you’d craned your head to her quickly, scowling deeply before settling your eyes back on the road. "i mean it." 

"i know he's done some bad things, abs, but he's still your brother. he's one of your guardians, and adult life is--" 

"you don't have to defend him, y/n." it was as sharp as if mike had said it, and it shut you up quickly. your defense came from the love and your connection, but you knew that you didn’t have to give him credit. his behavior in the last year hadn't been acceptable, everyone knew. he'd hurt you and abby so badly, so many times over. you two felt like you were on an island alone in the same house as him. "he's a dickhead."

"hey, language," you reprimanded, but she's right. "he is, though. i'll say it for the both of us. mike's a dickhead."

"he's just so miserable. the only reason they're not taking me away is because of you," abby admitted, and you knew it was true. with mike's lack of supervision and care, you'd had to slip into playing the role of caregiver for both yourself and abby. he bought food, other household stuff, anything abby needed, but it was up to you to make sure they were used, that abby was okay head to toe, 24/7, and that every bill was paid. you were doing something every hour of every day; grading or cleaning or cooking or helping with homework or washing clothes; you'd wanted to be a part of a collective unit. a real, supportive family. "housewife" hadn't been on your list of wanted titles. "i wish things were different."

"me too, abs," you muttered, biting indents into your bottom lip, over and over and over. you didn't want to cry in front of her. you’d needed to be strong, and if you'd survived the first fifteen minutes of the ride without breaking down, you could make it through the last fifteen.

you and abby eat dinner in her room, reheated lasagna that neither of you fully enjoy anymore. it had been your favorite meal at one point, but now it left an unsavory taste in your mouth, peppered with sour memories. you two talk about all the things she'd learned at the museum, about how her body functioned as she grew and what it meant to be an ever-evolving human. 

the conversation continues as you help her through her night routine. it finishes on, "it's not easy being human" as you tuck her into bed. she nods, flipping on to her side so that her tears fall onto her pillow. "aw, abby."

you wipe away the wetness, giving her a kiss on the forehead and stroking at her damp hair. "don't understand why mike hates us." 

you don't know what to say at first because you've felt the same way. it was like something had switched in him one day, rearranging his chemical makeup and transforming him into someone neither of you knew. "hey," you whisper, readjusting yourself so you're reclined against her headboard, sweeping her up into your arms. she rests her head on your chest, sniffling as she tries to stop her hiccupping breaths. "i think he's just lost right now. not to excuse his behavior, but...he doesn't know who he is. he's not mike, okay? and the mike that you feel like hates you isn't your brother. he loves you, deep deep down and i love you, abby. i love you so much." 

"i love you more, y/n," she gasps. you curl her into you further, cradling her so she'll settle. you want to shed your own tears once again. you can only imagine how hard all of this is for her. losing her whole family before she'd even started puberty. how were you supposed to figure out your own life, all the ups and downs, twists and turns of being sentient, when you were needed to guide abby into her formative years? how was this any way to start them?

you hold her for hours, staring blanky at the walls above her desk. they're fairly bare now, every picture she'd had with mike in it gone. you'd replaced him, outlined in gold radiance and holding abby's hand. it's bittersweet.

you're still mulling over the drawings when you hear the bedroom door open and close, footsteps retreating to the bathroom. what mike had been doing in there all day, you don’t know, and you try your hardest not to care. this is how your weekends had gone for a while.

you gently ease abby into her bed, smoothing her hair and murmuring sentimentalities into her ear before heading to your room.

there's not much excitement in your own night routine; mike usually sleeps on the couch on weekend nights, so you all you do is change your clothes and brush your teeth in the kitchen, moving around like a phantom. you don't make a sound, forgoing your past habits of humming or singing as you twirled about.

you lay in bed with the lamp light illuminating the pages of your book, leering your eyes over the text. reading was your form of escapism, using the fictional worlds printed on paper to leave the earthly realm you felt trapped in. you didn't have to be y/n when you read; you got to be free. 

it's close to 1 am when mike opens the door and your eyes lock onto his. it's instinct. you're still connected, in more ways than just a waning relationship, and sometimes you two will catch each other's stares like nothing negative has ever transpired between you two. your heart always pounds when it happens, and you wonder if you're alone in that.

"sorry for barging in, i just...uh, need some more clothes." you nod at his statement, but you're not sure that it's entirely true. he's dressed for night already, in his loose t-shirt and deep blue plaid pants. "really?" 

"just a change of pants...might get hot while i'm out there sleeping in the living room," he bites, and you don't miss a beat with your snappy reply. "nobody's making you sleep out there, mike, and it's fucking november. i'm sure it won't get hot." 

he leans against the dresser, deflated. it was a stupid excuse to use, a shitty way for him to try to snark at you, but he's so frustrated with himself, with everything he's caused. he doesn't understand what's wrong with him, and how he could ruin one of the only good things he's ever known. 

he'd taken an ambien earlier, fingering one out of the "legit prescription" bottle his dealer had given him, and sobbed into his pillow until he passed the fuck out. what looked to you like his usual appearance of fatigue was actually fatigue and guilt and rage and all these other feelings that had boiled to the surface since he'd been unfaithful. he just wanted to be near you again, to have you in the way he did all that time ago. 

how had he been so mindless, brain-dead enough to go through with dropping the responsibilities into your sole hands, virtually ignoring you for a year straight, and now, cheating on you? how had he let it get to this?

"i know. i'm sorry. i just don't deserve you, y/n." you slip your bookmark into the fold of your book, setting it down on the nightstand and sitting up straight against the bedroom wall. mike is still facing away from you, slouched yet frigid. there's so much tension radiating from his direction, and you find yourself subconsciously empathizing with him. you feel the same tension in your limbs every day, wishing life would give you one moment to take a deep, relieving breath. you want the stress to go away, for the both of you to be able to exhale all the sullen air of the past that resides in you, and replace it with the hope for a brighter future. 

mike stands to his full height, backing into the bed to plop down on the edge, staring dead ahead at his image in the dresser mirror. you get on all fours, thoughtlessly crawling over to him and wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders, skimming your other hand over his arm. it's what you would've done on any other day, and for some reason, you no longer feel like you're in the present with him. this is happening before everything, when the thought of him filled you with nothing but giddiness. "like how can you even...do this with me?" 

"i love you, mike," you whisper swiftly, tilting your head away from him so you can gaze into his eyes. he fucking hates himself, hates the way his jaw trembles as you fall into him again. he doesn't deserve this. he isn't entitled to your grace, and he wants to yell at you to take it back; save it. keep it for yourself, or abby. "i love you, and i miss you, and i just want things to go back to the way they were. i miss being in love."

it's all it takes for him to grab at the back of your neck, smashing his lips onto yours like no time has passed since the last time you'd done it, even if it'd been a year.

how had he gone a year without this, too? the feeling of your mouth on his shuts his brain off, and it isn't long before you're under him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he gives you slow, sweet, soft thrusts; thrusts you haven't felt in so long. you're all faint, yet honeyed whimpers and scratching at his back, and mike pushes away the shame that courses through him. this is what he wanted. his hookup was nothing close, a physical dupe of you that couldn't compare to the feeling of the real thing. he's in love with you, and he's crying into your neck, moaning out, "i love you baby, i'd do anything for you. i'm so sorry for ruining our lives, please forgive me, gonna make it better" between gasps. you nod your head, giving mike the most merciful eyes and it only makes him more emotional, coming into you with a muffled, shattered sob. 

you both settle into cuddling after you've used the bathroom, and mike keeps his sanity in check by telling himself that this is what he wants, and that he'll do anything to keep it. he'll never make another mistake again. from this day on, he'll do better. no more ambien. no more ignoring abby. no more putting all the responsibility on you. he has to save himself and he wants to show you that he'll change, that the person you fell in love with is still there. he even agrees to couples therapy when you bring it up. it's without hesitation, a quick, "anything you want baby", and he begins thinking of all the ways he can make extra money to pay for it. 

"we're gonna be okay. i'm going to turn this around," he promises, kissing at the top of your head before turning off the bedside lamp. you two sleep tangled in each other's limbs, and it's the best sleep either of you have gotten all year. 

you're impressed by the way things actually turn around. mike takes up a second job and makes you quit yours, opting for something close to the house for a small 9 am - 1 pm shift after freddy's. it works out perfectly for everyone; he gets to eat breakfast with the two of you every morning; you take abby to school, and get to work knowing that you don't have to work again after you're dismissed of children; mike picks abby up, on time, and brings her home, making her lunch and letting her decompress while he takes a nap; you come home and decompress yourself, afterwards helping abby with her homework as mike gets his winks in until 7:30 or so. you two trade off making dinner during the week, and by 8:30 at the latest, you're all sitting at the table enjoying a meal together. mike leaves for work, catching up on sleep there too. you help abby settle down for the night, and then you're grading until you're calling it quits. it feels like the earth has healed. 

it takes abby a bit of work to come around to mike again, and by the fourth weekend of positive change, he's worked his way back into her good graces. it moves you, the genuine effort he's put in to right his wrongs and show the two of you that he was endlessly remorseful. the two of you had even been having sex again; quickies during the week, but passionate, heated, breathless hour-long sessions during the early mornings or late nights of the weekend, panting into each other's mouths and clinging to skin like saran wrap. it's a year's worth of tension unfolding every time you two are in bed. 

you're going out on dates. you're taking abby places. you're making memories again. the lunch texts happen again. you're going to couples therapy, really working on everything. everything is perfect...until it isn't, once again.

all it takes is a month and a half. 

you're waltzing around the living room, tidying up a bit around the place before the three of you convene on the couch for a movie night. it's something you'd recommended at the start of all the improvements, and it'd become a highlight of the weekends. every saturday night, rotating choice of movie, max pg-13. abby sits on the couch as you organize the random knickknacks that lay about, clicking through the streaming app's home screen while she waits for mike to give her a movie title.

he calls out a name, something generic and easily marketable, and abby rolls her eyes, searching for it anyway. "sounds like a boring kid movie." 

"you are a kid, silly," you say through a laugh, arranging two bowls of snacks on the table and plopping down beside her. she scoots into you, and you throw your arm around her shoulder, resting your temple on the top of her head.

"mikeeeeeeeeee," you trill, looking towards the shadowed hallway. "get your ass in here! why are you even brushing your teeth right now anyway? we're about to devour popcorn and doritos, and abby's gonna get to drink sodaaaaaaaa, but only because tomorrow is sunday. it'll all taste so gross with the mint flavor," you and abby giggle at your words, caught in a laughing fit when mike's glowing phone catches your eye. 

it's on the coffee table, thrown there without a care, and you reach forward to check out what notification he got. you two don't go through each other's phones, but there's no rule about using them. you scroll through his social media apps sometimes, and vice versa. you two are open, trusting, secure...right?

the notification is an email from something called Hookup-Haven, the body of the message starting with "you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time...". the subject says new message from: slutzora_xx.

you think it's just a spam email, one of those "hot, horny singles in your area!" type of things, and it's a bit puzzling to you that they're coming to mike's primary inbox instead of his junk folder, but you will yourself to push it away. this was an invasion of his privacy and you didn't do this. you didn't condone this. 

the will doesn't work. 

you would've believed it to be spam if clicking the one email didn't expose you to a thread of communication from about a month and a half ago. there are only a couple of emails, six of them from back then. mike initiated them.

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:23

just looking to fuck, nothing else. 

slutzora_xx | 8:25

well, you're in the right place, searching on a hookup site lol. were you looking for something tonight?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:29

if you could, sure. i can skip work. been really depressed about my life and my relationship and i don't want to think about any of it rn.

slutzora_xx | 8:31

aw mike <33333 i'm really sorry. i'll still fuck you, irdgaf but i have to ask...how would your girlfriend feel about this?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:32

what she doesn't know won't kill her. we don't even talk.

slutzora_xx | 8:34

doesn't sound like much of a girlfriend to me </3 but, it's an answer nonetheless (: meet me at the oakmont at 10:00, mkay? room 106. see you then *kissies*

your eyes blear as you read the one he just received.

slutzora_xx | 8:17

you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time but you're still pretty cute. wanna try again sometime, sober? ;D i'm back in town for another week so lmk! same place, room 213. 

you can't breathe. it feels like your chest has been vacuum sealed, all of the air within you sucked out with every word you read of this exchange. you swipe up to find his calendar app, comparing the date of the emails to that time period in your life. 

month and a half ago, friday. mike had exited without a word as you entered, with his usual dead eyes and apathetic physicality. you'd watched him leave, backing out of the driveway without a single glance at you. it'd stung worse than lots of things you'd felt recently, and in that moment, you didn't know why. it all made sense now. 

he'd had sex with you the next night. you'd forgiven him, trusting his sorrowful whimpers and desperate movements, believing that everything would actually be okay again. 

you don't realize that you're still wheezing and trembling until abby waves her hand in front of your face, eyes filled with worry. "are you okay, y/n?" you set mike's phone down, screen on and infidelity exposed, as you try to give abby your strongest smile. how could you when even you were terrified by the harsh tremors of your hands? 

you stand to your feet, ushering her down the hall to her bedroom door. "just go in your room, okay? put on your headphones and do some karaoke. sing as loud as you want. i just need to talk to mike really quick, i'll come get you when we're done." 

abby turns to her door, cracking it open with one more look back towards you. her eyes are melancholic, as if she knows exactly what's going on.

"you and mike aren't going to just talk, are you?" 

you nudge her into her room with a simple, "sing as loud as you want, abby", your voice toned with mature finality. "don't come out until i come get you." abby knows not to argue.

you return to the couch, staring at mike's bright phone screen. you'd been cheated on so many times, and though you hadn't wanted heartache to harden you, it still hit you over the head like a sack of bricks. it never got easier, finding out that you couldn't trust someone that you loved deeply, but you just kept your head held high. you knew you would find something eventually, something right. someone good, someone who would keep you and your heart safe, never hurt you. 

you thought that person was mike. you'd felt 100% positive that he was right for you.

how had you ended up being wrong?

you hadn't cried yet, sitting with your back straight and interlocked fingers crushed between your knees. your gaze is locked on his phone still, a leg bouncing as you will yourself not to explode with the betrayal.

mike finally comes out of the bathroom, throwing a lovedrunk, sheepish smile your way as he walks into the illuminated living room. the smile falls when he catches your expression and tracks your eyes to his phone. his heart sinks to his ass as he takes in the Hookup-Haven logo, tiny and almost illegible, but there, nonetheless, on his phone. fuck.

"baby--"

"don't!" your voice is sharp, sharper than it's been in recent times. he was used to this tone back then, but for the last month or so, you'd been so sweet, so much like yourself when you'd first started dating. "don't call me baby. i'm going to ask you this once, and i swear to fucking god, mike, if you lie to me, i'm leaving right now." mike swallows hard, standing motionless in front of you.

"did you cheat on me?" your voice crack strikes mike all over; his brain, heart, and stomach all lurch with remorse and his hands fly up in surrender, eyes closed so he can't see your face. "baby, listen---"

"stop...calling...me that!" you scream, shooting to your feet and stepping into his space. he keeps his eyes closed, squeezing them so hard it starts to give him a headache. he can't see you. he'll die if he sees you. "yes or no, mike?" 

"yes, y/n! i cheated on you, okay? i was fucked up---" 

"not when you coordinated your meetup," he opens his eyes and is met with your tearful ones, red and overflowing with devastation. you're breathing so hard, placing a hand on your chest to try and soothe yourself before you have an anxiety attack. what has he done? 

"you left the house twenty minutes after you finalized your plans. you made them sober." your voice breaks again, and mike tries to reach out for you, bring you to him so he can make it all better, but you dodge him, diverting your way to the kitchen. you have your arms crossed over your chest, rubbing your hands over your biceps. 

"you fucked me the next day! you knew what you'd done and still had sex with me," you're not facing him, staring into the darkness just outside the kitchen window. it's the only thing keeping you calm. "how fucking could you?" 

mike is at a loss for words, stammering to find something to say. he’s so angry at himself, internally pummeling himself into the ground. 

what’s there for him to say? there’s no fixing what he’s done. he'd put in so much effort to fix things with you and abby, working his ass off to make sure that he didn't fail you two again. he'd done everything he could, and it'd had all crumbled into dust by one mistake, one mistake he'd known was irredeemable. 

"y/n, listen to me, okay?" he doesn't deserve your ears, but you lend them to him anyway, still shunning him from seeing your face. 

"nothing is going to fix what i did. nothing is going to change it, but please know that i love you with my entire being. i have since the day i met you, and...i was in such a bad place. i had been... for the entire past year. i felt nothing but pain...nothing but this mix of a void and lead inside my chest. i didn't want to wake up. i didn't want to do anything. i just wanted to feel what we had, or at least something close. i needed to feel something other than that pain, y/n. that's all i felt when i was here, or at freddy's, or anywhere for that matter. the circumstances had me feeling nothing but this...deep sorrow because everything had fallen apart." 

"because of you!" you screech as you whirl around to him, blood-curdling and angry and followed by a sharp wheeze of breath inward as you try to keep it together, key word try. "because of you, mike. you were the reason that abby almost got taken away, and why we were almost evicted, and why i was fucking killing myself to keep everything afloat!" 

"y/n..."

"you were drugging yourself and i picked up your slack! i've helped abby through two school semesters and a summer, showing up late to my second job that i really needed because you were asleep! you missed picking her up so many times that she thought you hated her. she thought she was a burden, mike; crying into my arms every night because she didn't understand why you'd suddenly just given up on her. she tore down all her drawings of you in her room...i remember walking in on her, ripping them to little pieces in her fort with the most heart-breaking cries coming from her. screaming over and over, 'why doesn't mike love me?'" your voice is so shaky, and you're trying to keep your composure, but the thoughts you're conjuring send you further into a breakdown. "i had to help her through that on top of everything else because you checked out. you checked out intentionally, and it's not fair that you get to go out and fuck other people while i have to be here, cleaning up the mess you made!" 

"then fucking leave!" mike counters with a yell, taken back by the way he's berating you when the anger he feels is for no one but himself. he doesn't mean to, but your confessions unsettle him, leaving him unable to think logically. he'd gone from excitedly thinking about watching a movie with you and abs, to arguing about his prior lack of involvement with either one of you, and he knew there was only one person to blame. nevertheless, all his foggy brain knew was to yell, to shout out his frustrations until they finally released their hold on his body. "it's not like you're staying with me after all this, so just go ahead and fucking leave," he wishes he could take it back after he says it. he's not thinking straight, and he begs himself to get it together. why can't he stop causing all of this destruction? 

"i want to!" your scream is loud, shaking the entire house. you can't believe he's giving up so easily, letting you slip out of his life like you never really mattered at all. "i've wanted to leave since our anniversary!" 

"why didn't you then?" his voice is whiny, genuinely disappointed in the fact that you didn't go. "we ignored each other the entire day, ignored each other every day since. why didn't you just leave me?" you figure he was trying to use self-pity as a way for you to empathize, prodding at your heart's soft spot for him, which was, frankly, the entire thing. you couldn't let him win. you couldn't let him trick you again, effortlessly handing over your forgiveness just because he was mike, and you loved him, and he made you melt. 

"i always believed things would change," you mutter, pursing your lips with an absent-minded head nod. "asked the universe if i was doing anything wrong by chance, but it was never me. it was you, and i thought that maybe if i toughened it out long enough, you'd see that and work to fix it. too bad you did that after you had sex with someone else, right? felt so guilty that it forced you to make the change, even though you'd already done the one thing you knew i wouldn't forgive? had me forgive you after you'd destroyed everything?"

"please," he whispers, bringing a hand up to quickly swipe at his undereye. "i'm sorry, y/n. i know i don't deserve you. i never have, and i never will. i fucked up, bad, and i'm just..." he stops with a regretful sigh, reaching out to you once more, but before he can say anything else, you blurt, "we're done, mike." 

the sentence causes his eyes to fall shut, air coming from his nose as a despondent laugh. "yeah?" 

"rushed into all of these responsibilities, thought i could trust you. made me feel safe, made me let my guard down. i thought you were different, mike. after everything that i told you about. all the things you promised you wouldn't do, but none of it matters. it doesn't matter what you say. you lied from the beginning, convincing me that moving in with you would be so great and that we'd be a real family, but this was no family. you didn't support us. you weren't there.you did stupid, reckless things and hurt the ones you love, the ones that love you."

"we're done though, right? don't know why you'd say that, considering that it doesn't seem like you love me much anymore." you couldn't believe him, staring at him with bewildered eyes.

he couldn't believe himself either. who was he? why did he continue to self-sabotage, completely throwing his mouth out to the sharks before it'd had a chance to communicate with his brain? you shake your head, bitterly laughing at him and his reaction and everything around you. the situation had you in tearful knots, laughing this maniacal laugh with tears streaking down your face. 

"i'll be out by the end of the week, mike. should figure out what you're going to do about...everything." you give him a tight lipped smile before strolling past him, forcefully knocking your shoulder into his. he almost trips backward, stumbling into the dining table. he deserves it. he deserves everything, with the exception of anything good, you, and abby. 

it doesn't take much time for you to pack all your things. you call out of work for a few days, packing while mike snoozes on the couch. he's never actually asleep, eyes closed but fully alert with thoughts and emotions and gripes to himself, about himself. 

you didn't have much stuff. you'd sold a lot of duplicate things you'd had when you moved in with mike, his assurance that you'd always have everything you needed bringing you solace you'd always dreamt of. you'd trusted him with everything, and now it left you needing to start (almost) completely over.

you cry about the situation at first, cooped up in the room with a pile of gross, used tissues on your nightstand. you didn’t want for all of this to be over. you’d wanted to be with mike and abby forever, and your brain unhealthily begins to wrack with ideas of what you could do to change things, but…there was nothing you could do. 

the damage had been done, and all that’s required of you is to dry your tears and move on like you deserve.

you stuff your car full with everything, and on wednesday afternoon, you're leaning on it outside with your old house key in hand as you wait for mike to come home with abby. 

you'd told her about what happened, and she'd let you know that she'd read the emails over your shoulder that night. you two cried together, cuddling and falling asleep in her bed. you wanted to take her with you, but you knew you couldn't; not back to your parent's house. it wasn't yours, and it was fairly small, barely enough space for the three of you. you promised to visit her somehow, and reminded her that she could always text or email you.

mike pulls up on the opposite side of your car, staring at you as you turn and round the front to let abby out. you don't even make it to the door before she's throwing herself out and onto the asphalt, falling to her knees at your feet and wrapping her arms around your shins with earth-shattering sobs. she clings to you so tightly that you'll trip if you try to move. mike watches the whole thing from inside the car, trying to breathe and center himself. he thought you would've taken the entire week to pack, maybe lingering on everything that you two had been, but he'd felt his mouth fill with bile he pulled in and saw you with your car stuffed to the brim. you had three days to spare. 

he tries not to think about what his future without you, just him and abby again, would hold. he didn't feel so good about it.

you pull abby upwards and wipe at her tears, brushing hair out of her eyes and caressing the perimeter of her face, blotchy with red. it breaks your heart that you're leaving right as she comes home from school, but you know you can't dwell any longer. besides her, there was nothing left for you here. you'd done everything you could, keeping your heads above water for an entire year. you wouldn't stay somewhere that didn't serve you, and unfortunately, even abbycouldn't change your stance. 

you tuck your own curls behind your ears, willing your voice to steady enough so you can talk to her. "keep singing karaoke, okay? record yourself with the webcam i got you and send me the videos. i wanna hear from you, so don't be a stranger. i'm here for you, always. whatever you need, just call, text, carrier pigeon," your last option makes her giggle, nasally and snotty from crying so much. "i love you so much abby, more than you'll ever know."

"i love you so much more, y/n. i want you to stay," she hugs at your legs, and you enclose her in your arms, taking deep breaths as to not cry and dribble all over her. "you were supposed to stay forever. please don't leave me with mike." you can barely hear anything in your ears, the sound of your heart splintering into a million tiny pieces ringing in your eardrums like tinnitus. 

a single tear tracks down your cheek as you close your eyes, and you whisper, "i know. i'm so sorry," before giving her a long, low-spirited kiss on the forehead and standing to your full height. "i love you. never forget that."

"i won't," she muses, so small and frail. you hand her your house key and she captures it in her hand, making a tight fist around it. she hands you an index card with her other one, a bright, happy drawing of you and her on the unlined side. "to y/n, from abs" is scribbled on the opposite one. "i made one for myself too, so we could both have one. it'll keep us together, even so far apart." 

you kiss at the figure of her on the card, pressing it to your heart. "i'll keep it safe. thank you so much, abby." she smiles, giving you one last hug at the waist before allowing you to move to your car. 

once again, what's mike to say, or do, or conjure? nothing will change his mistakes, one after the other that he'd saddled you two with. he didn't know how he could go on after this, feeling the darkness of a deep depression licking at him. he wanted to take twenty ambien. he didn't want to wake up if it wasn't beside you. 

you catch his stare for the final time when you start your car, your chest rising and falling with a deep breath. you twist your lips slightly to the side, giving him a head nod that says, "that's a wrap on us." 

he returns your movement, lifting his hand in a small wave. you don't wait around, reversing out of the driveway. mike watches you in his rearview mirror, taking another breath before you release it with a smile, settling the card abby gave you on your dashboard. he knows you're smiling because you're free after so long of tying yourself down for him, taking on the weight of the world for three different people, when all you really wanted to focus on was yourself. 

he doesn't blame you. 

you were going to live your life. you were going to live stress-free. you were going to be young, and do whatever youwanted to do. you'd be careful with your heart but still so full of love, rolling the weight of mike's sins off of your shoulders. none of it was your fault, and you got to leave the house a lot lighter than you'd felt in a while. 

your car peels down the road, and mike can't believe that he'll never see you again. he'll never kiss you, or call you baby. he may not do it with anyone else ever again.

abby comes to the car and grabs her things out of the backseat without a word. mike turns to her and her eyes bore into him with the ferocity of a trillion daggers. she's still crying, silently now, slamming the front door of the house shut as she enters. mike knows that she'll probably never forgive him for this, or for anything.

he realizes that everything has led him back to the same position he was in when he'd arrived home from his fling, alone and numbly sedentary in his driver seat. 

his body chokes with the first sob, and then the next one, and the next, wholly defeated by your surrender. 

well. i suppose this saga has come to an end. this was actually pretty emotional to write, and i may take a tiny break before i get into writing safety net. even though that series is super cute and fluffy, i just need some time to digest wtf i just wrote 😭 this shit HURTS. i hope you all enjoy this. i know it's not very fluffy, but still. sometimes we can't tell a compelling story and service everyone lmao. i think this was the way their story was supposed to end, so i'm happy i was able to execute it how i wanted 💜 lemme know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@nim-rose

[abrcmswrld]

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the  wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”