#mike durate

[the-hinky-panda]

The Dog: Part IV

Author’s Note: So if you guys follow @bullet-prooflove​, you know that The Dog and The North Star take place in the same fic universe. The vet in this story does have a name (Meredith) but I will continue to write her as a reader by using you/your and have Mike refer to her by using nicknames only. All this to say I’m not sure how to label this now since she has a name but it won’t be used in this fic.

Another note, I do use physical descriptions in this chapter (freckles and red hair) but I do it for a bigger purpose. Yes, no descriptions are more inclusive, however I wanted to make a point that she is self-conscious of her looks because don't we all have something that we don't like about ourselves? Don't we all have something that we want to change? And how wonderful is it when we surround ourselves with the right people that love us and all our imperfections? So please forgive the physical descriptions in this chapter as they were only done to deliver an important message: love your freckles!

You stand in front of the mirror and inspect your face. Your fingers trail over the splashes of freckles across your round cheeks, your face framed by your red hair. You’re not beautiful. At least, not by social media standards. No one is going to stop you on the street and want to take your picture, make a model out of you. You’re not destined for Instagram fame. It makes you wonder what Mike sees in you, what prompted him to ask you out to dinner at a local brewery. Mike, with his roguish good looks and witty sense of humor; warm brown eyes and easy smile. And dear lord, those adorable dimples. 

You dig out a tube of concealer, specific for freckles and other skin blemishes. Your ex, Kevin, had found it for you. He hadn’t been a fan of your freckles and often urged you to cover them up as best you could. You always kept a tube of the makeup on hand in case he wanted you to join him at a pharmaceutical rep party or just go out for drinks with some of his friends. Holding that small tube in your hand, you wonder if you’re really ready to try out another relationship with someone new. All the masks that need to be worn and maintained, you just didn’t know if you had it in you. 

So, why try? 

If Mike is going to like you, it’s going to be for you. You drop the make up back into the drawer and continue with your normal, basic routine. Simple make-up, a loose twist to keep your hair back from your face, and small gold hoop earrings. Shasta watches you curiously, her head cocked to the side, not exactly sure what this new routine is. It’s pretty sad when the dog is wondering why you’re dressing up. You pat her head as you leave the bathroom. 

“You’re coming with me, don’t worry.” 

Shasta follows you into the bedroom where the second struggle of evening occurs: what to wear? Your wardrobe consists mostly of scrubs. It’s been about six years now since your divorce and you’ve never really gotten back onto the dating scene and your clothes show that. You’re able to find a green blouse to go with your jeans and flats. You grab a navy blue cardigan since you’ll be sitting outside at the brewhouse. You give yourself one last look in the mirror, releasing a long sigh to try to dispel some of the butterflies that have taken up residence in your stomach. 

You had forgotten this part of life. This nervous thrill that makes you feel nauseous but you can’t wait to see what the evening is going to bring. It’s a knife’s edge balancing act of being yourself but just the likable pieces. Honest, authentic but keeping the odd and messy parts of yourself still hidden from view. You pick up Shasta’s harness, try to get the dog to stand still and it takes three attempts to wrestle the harness on her body. It doesn’t help that her short tail is wagging so excitedly, you struggle snapping the enclosures. You stand up, grab your keys, and look at the dancing dog in front of you. 

“If Mike doesn’t like me, it’s your fault,” you joke. “Maybe Bono can teach you some manners, you wild red dog.” 

You get Shasta secured in the backseat of the Subaru and make the ten minute drive over to Mike’s place. Any nervousness that you may have felt while getting ready completely dissipates when you see him, sitting on his front porch, Bono sitting next to him. He’s dressed up his regular henley with a plaid button shirt and has his suede jacket thrown over his arm. You’re struck once again with what a handsome man he is with his confident gait, wavy dark hair, and warm brown eyes. Maybe you should have worn the concealer this evening and you silently chide yourself as he gets Bono situated in the backseat next to Shasta before sliding into the passenger seat of your car. 

“You look nice.” 

You turn your head to hide the nervous, pleased smile that erupts on your face. “Thanks. You look nice too. Have you ever been to the Bronx Alehouse before?” 

He shrugs halfheartedly. “Once or twice.” He glances behind him at Bono. “Guess I better get better acquainted with it.” 

“You know that Bono can go into any restaurant you want. You don’t have to go to dog friendly ones only.” 

“I certainly don’t want to leave Shasta out of the good times though.” 

“That’s very kind of you. Shasta appreciates it.”  You glance to the side and catch his smile that’s just large enough to cause that dimple to appear in his cheek. If it were even possible, you fall more in love with the man. You park a couple blocks away from the restaurant to give the dogs a chance to walk off some of their energy. Well, for Shasta to walk off her energy. Bono trots right at Mike’s side, the perfect gentleman. 

They seat you outside on the sidewalk patio where they provide water bowls next to the table for the dogs and your waitress slips both dogs a small treat when she takes your drink orders. You chat about what has transpired in the last week of your lives, what has happened since that beautiful day spent at Orchard Beach. Your update is short and sweet: working overtime at the clinic. Although the finding of a litter of fox pups did make for an interesting day a couple days ago. His update is more interesting. 

“My sister from Maryland came up for a few days.” 

You know from the texts and calls that have been going back and forth between you two that he has three sisters along the East Coast. “She’s the teacher, right?” 

“Right,” he picks up his beer and takes a sip. “So she cleaned the house, stocked my pantry, and fussed over me for three days before heading back to Baltimore. Then I paid a visit to the training center where Bono came from, learned a bit more about what goes into training a service dog and what they’re capable of doing. There were some dogs there that were being trained to sniff out cancer in people.” 

“I’ve heard of that but haven’t seen any dogs in action yet. Dogs are incredible animals, extremely adaptable to a variety of situations and environments. They’re loyal, loving, dedicated. It makes me wonder what we humans did to deserve them.” 

He laughs but there’s very little humor behind it. “Certainly nothing that we’re currently doing. The world’s a mess.” 

You get it. You understand his bleak world view at the moment. Colin had it too after his accident. But Mike’s nihilistic vision comes from years of seeing the worst of humanity while on the police force. The last five years he’s spent chasing down Oscar Papa certainly hasn’t shown him the best of humanity either. “Maybe that’s why we have them. As reminders that we can be good enough people to deserve the love of our dogs.” 

“How do you do that?” The bitter edge of his perception dissipates and there’s genuine curiosity behind his words. “How do you stay so positive after all the horrible shit you see too? The animal abuse? Abandonment?” 

You shrug. “I guess I take peace in the thought that I’m not one of those people. I care for the animals, treat them, heal them, rehome them. I can’t stop people from being jerks and assholes, but I certainly can help fix what they’ve broken. You can’t make the world a better place without someone out there trashing it.” 

The warmth comes back to his smile and his eyes. “That’s a commendable attitude then.” 

“Thank you,” you raise your beer glass in his direction before taking a sip. He starts to say something else when your name is shouted across the patio and your blood runs cold. You can’t believe he would be here, in the Bronx, at this restaurant, at this exact time. But you hear your name again and when you turn, your eyes are immediately drawn to the extremely well-dressed blonde man who is waving at you. 

“Who’s that?” Mike asks, a sense of wariness creeping into his tone. 

“My ex-husband, Kevin.”  You hope against all hope that he and his bubbly little girlfriend go back inside the restaurant but that is not your luck. The two of them, arms draped over each other in their high-end clubbing gear, make their unsteady way over to your table. 

“Hey, babe.” 

You twist the corner of the napkin in your lap. “Not your babe, Kevin.” 

His blue eyes land on Mike. “Yeah,  I can see that. Kevin Bradford.” , the ex. This is Wendy.” 

“Mindi,” she corrects with a high-pitched giggle.

Mike reluctantly shakes his hand. “Captain Duarte.” 

Mindi emits a small squeal of surprise. “You’re that police guy who got hacked up by-“ 

“Yes, I am,” Mike cuts her off. 

Kevin grabs two chairs from another table and pulls them up to your table. “That’s fucking rad, man.” 

“Kevin!” You feel the tips of your ears heat up with a flash of anger. 

“What?” He shrugs. “How many dudes can say they went a few rounds with machetes and lived to tell about it? Like, that is fucking badass, legendary.”  Kevin lightly smacks Mike’s arm. “Bet it gets you a lot of action from the ladies, am I right?” 

Mike gives Kevin a sharp smile. “Not quite.” 

“Oh,” Kevin shrugs.  “Guess you haven’t gotten your strength back yet. In that case,” he points to you, “she’s a good one to break you back into the game. Doesn’t ask for much but puts out-“ 

Abject humiliation overtakes you to the point that you’re practically strangling the napkin that is still in your lap. Mike’s eyes flash and he starts to say something when Mindi interrupts  him. 

“Awww,” she coos and reaches towards Bono. “What a cute doggie!” 

“Please don’t touch my dog.” Despite the directness of the command, Mike does soften his tone with the young woman and she immediately withdraws her hand. 

“Sorry. Is he a service dog or something?” 

“He is,” Mike answers.  “I forgot his vest tonight. It’s okay.” 

You’re once again impressed with how easily Mike can read a situation, measure people up, and respond to them. He’s like a social swiss army knife. You do take pity on the poor girl and scoot your chair out slightly. “You can pet my dog if you want. Her name is Shasta.” 

The woman’s face lights up as she gives Shasta a vigorous rub on her back. “What a good girl, Shasty. I’m Mindi.” 

“Hey, hey,” Kevin leans over  and bumps her shoulder with his. “Save some of that hand energy for later, babe.” 

You roll your eyes and look over apologetically at Mike. He responds with a “what the hell were you thinking” look but where there should have been judgment in his eyes, there was a soft mirth. Some of your humiliation fades. The sun has set enough that the lights on the patio turn on and brighten the outside area significantly. Kevin looks over at you and motions to your face. 

“You run out that concealer? I can get you more if you want.” He motions towards Mike and lowers his voice. “You know, since you’re trying to impress someone new. Trust me babe, no one likes looking at…that.” 

“Oh, is that the stuff you got me?” Mindi pipes up and turns back to you. “It’s fabulous and will totally cover all those freckles and spots. It’s a miracle in a bottle.”  

Freckles and spots. You want to disappear again. You and your freckles and your red hair and your odd sense of humor and…

“She’s not trying to impress me,” Mike’s sharp tone draws all three sets of eyes to him. “I’m already impressed.” He picks up his beer. “Besides, I love her freckles.” 

Kevin bursts out laughing. “What is this, your first date? Shit, man. You don’t have to try that hard with her. You already got a cool dog. If she hasn’t slept with you yet, trust me, she will soon.” 

“Kev, be nice,” Mindi says but it’s quiet and half-hearted. 

He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Honey, you do realize this is my ex-wife. The one who dumped all my things in the front yard, in the rain, for no reason.” 

“No reason?!” You’re halfway out of the chair when you realize your anger has moved you to your feet. People’s heads have turned in your direction and you slowly sit back down at the table. You remember that horrible night in vivid detail. You and Sam dragging Kevin’s Armani suits, fifty pairs of shoes,  and exercise equipment out of the house. You still don’t know how the two of you managed to move a full size treadmill but rage at his behavior that night certainly was a solid motivator. “You showed up drunk to Colin’s funeral.” 

“Who wants to go to funerals?” Kevin counters. “So I knocked a couple back at the bar down the street. Me and half the people there that night had been drinking before showing up.”  

“Yeah but you were the only one that leaned his fucking elbow on my brother’s casket.” The disbelief and fury you had felt when you had seen that, his lean frame casually leaning on the highly polished wood of Colin’s casket roars to the surface again. You want to punch him in his smug face but instead you ball up the napkin that you’ve been twisting in your lap and throw it at his head. 

Mike stands up from the table and tosses a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Okay, we’re done. Enjoy the table, Kevin. Mindi, my advice would be get the hell out now.” 

“Dude,” Kevin throws his arms out. “What happened to bro code? Bros before hoes.” 

Mike grimaces. “Exhibit A, Mindi.” 

You’re humiliated and angry. You had been looking forward to this evening, excited for this new start with a charming, kind, and good man. And you’ve ruined it because Kevin decided to darken the door of this restaurant and bring out the worst of you. Mike has his phone in his hand, most likely getting ready to call an Uber and retreat from this clusterfuck. You don’t blame him at all. You’re so lost in your thoughts, berating yourself for your outburst, that it must take Mike a couple times of saying your name until you hear him. 

“What?” 

He smiles at you, warmly, and extends his hand that isn’t holding Bono’s leash. “Come on. I know a better place.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and take his hand before he changes his mind. His hand is warm, broad and it helps ground you in the storm of your fury. It takes a couple tugs for Shasta to follow you, as she doesn’t want to leave her new, loud and giggly, friend but eventually you, Mike, and dogs soon find yourselves back on the sidewalk. 

“I’m so sorry, Mike. I had no idea-“  

“Don’t worry about it. I have an ex-wife, I get it. They call it baggage for a reason.” 

You sigh and drop your shoulders, the tension finally releasing as you start moving down that sidewalk back towards your car. “Thank you, for understanding.” 

You walk a block and stop to wait for the light to change when he squeezes your hand. You realize you never let him go from the restaurant. You give him a small smile and he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I like your freckles. Don’t ever cover them.” 

Oh yeah, you were completely and utterly head over heels for this man.  

[justreblogginfics]

The accuracy is just—perfect!

So many people on here write so so well and amazingly that this is a regular occurrence for every character they write for 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Just tagging these amazing writers to show my appreciation for them: @something-tofightfor @darlingshane @just-chirpin @kteague @tropes-and-tales @drabbles-mc @tripleissue @fallatyourfeet @velocibeewords @writefightandflightclub @lucy-sky @carni-val @whiskeynwriting @yellowcabdriver @chellestrash @anna-hawk @banditthewriter @sillyrabbit81 and many many more ☺️

Picture from Pinterest

[bullet-prooflove]

Human: Mike Duarte x Reader

Tagging: @nessamc   @xmoonknightlyx   @jayblackpanther   @crazy4chickennuggets   @annetje   @mysoulisasunflower  @202rosebudd   @littleone65   @thesandbeneathmytoes    @storiesofsvu​

Your hands were on Mike’s chest, fingers ghosting over the tattoos etched into his flesh as you kissed him like your life depended on it. He knew that this was all about feeling something for you, he could sense the desire for human contact underneath the cool exterior, but you also needed something more.

Mike understood what it was like to feel vacant and restless, there were nights where he didn't recognise the man on the other side of the mirror because of the masks he wore and the deeds he committed. You were the only two people in this world that could understand each other, and he would give you whatever you needed.

Your skin gleamed in the low lighting as you drew away briefly, causing him to groan at the interruption. He could see the depth of your torrid emotions swirling underneath the surface as your lips graced his throat. The intensity in you was frightening, it surged underneath your skin like electricity as you held onto him for dear life. You were drowning, he could feel that now and he realized that if he let this happen it would all go to hell.

"Mi vida." he murmured, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into the shelter of his arms. You stiffened in his embrace as he bent his head low, so his lips brushed your ear. "Mi vida please just stop."

"I don't want to." you whispered, your mouth brushing over the tattoo that resided on the space just above his heart. You were chasing that feeling, the fire, the passion because you didn’t want to feel anything else. If you stopped now, you knew it would all crash down on you and couldn’t stand it.

"I can't." he told you, pressing his unshaven cheek against yours. "Not when you're hurting, not like this."

Your shoulders sagged, Mike could feel the weight of the world resting upon them and it made his heart heavy. He didn't do this; he didn't take on other people's issues but with you he didn't have a choice. There was some unsatisfied urge that demanded that he do what was right by you. He didn't want you to regret a single moment with him, no matter how long this lasted. He guided you towards the couch, before taking a seat beside you.

"Talk to me." He said plaintively, ducking his head so he could study your expression.

"I get like this sometimes." You responded, your voice sounding small as your gaze fixated on something on the coffee table.

Wherever you were right now, it wasn't with him; Mike concluded that it was somewhere far away from here, a place he couldn't touch. He remained silent, watching the expression on your face closely. There was pain inside of you; he could feel it like a barb prickling under the surface of your skin.

"When I feel too overwhelmed, I just shut down." You told him frankly. "It's like a part of me doesn't want to get hurt so it clamps down all my emotions so I can deal with it all and start to process."

Mike pursed his lips together grimly. He was familiar with that notion, playing so many parts over the years had taken their toll on him in a way he could never have imagined when he had first started out in Gangs. Sometimes he didn't even recognise himself between all the lies he had told, most the time he didn't know if this was his real life or part of the false life he had generated. When the lines blurred the way, they had for him it was hard to see where the hell you were treading.

"It was the undercover op wasn’t it?" Mike said quietly.

You put your head in your hands, your palms rubbing at your eyes as you spoke.

“I just closed everything off and it terrifies me when I do that, it's like I'm sleep walking and the person I was before doesn’t exist." Your voice trembled just a little before you swallowed hard pushing past the emotion bubbling in your throat. "It’s like I can’t connect to her, I don’t… I don’t like who I’m becoming. I’m just numb.”

"It means you're human." He told her, his muscular arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer into his caring embrace. Your head came to rest under his chin as you curled into him, taking solace in his warmth. "Being like that is a way of protecting yourself and sometimes it takes a while to come back to yourself, to remember who you are. You’re still you, you’re still fighting for the people who can't defend themselves. That's a part of you, no matter how bad you feel inside sometimes, you’re a good person and you always be."

You buried your face into the curve of his throat, your light breath ghosting across his skin as he cradled you closely. Already he could feel the tension beginning to unwind from your shoulders, he knew who you were, and he would spend every day of his life helping you remember.

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mysoulisasunflower]

MAURICE COMPTE as MIKE DUARTE

(Gifset 5)

[the-hinky-panda]

WTF WHAT SUV. I'm sorry but that was soooo brutal

It was. Absolutely brutal. And completely unnecessary in my opinion. But what do I know, I'm just a fan fic writing undoing the travesties that have been to great characters.

So once again folks, hit up the inbox with some Mike Duarte prompts as this weekend is going to be a Duarte-palooza!

[justreblogginfics]

I am seriously weak for this man 🥰

I will admit that I am upset with him after this last episode—he better redeem himself!

…but let’s be real, I’ll still be weak for him 🥰

[bullet-prooflove]

Hush: Mike Durate x Reader

Tagging: @nessamc   @xmoonknightlyx   @jayblackpanther   @crazy4chickennuggets   @annetje   @mysoulisasunflower    @202rosebudd   @littleone65  @thesandbeneathmytoes  @storiesofsvu​

Mike hated the night, perhaps now more than he ever had. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as lay in bed. His entire body was still but he was far from relaxed. His mind was racing, he could feel his synapses firing as he tilted his head to look at the empty spot alongside him. The bed felt too big without you. Over the past few months, he had become used to sleeping with you by his side, despite the temperature you would always nestle against him, a part of your body always touching his even in sleep.

He missed that about you, your ability to make him feel alive, to feel like he was someone you could depend on. You had given him a deeper sense of worth. Reminded him who Mike was and he relished that because he had locked himself away for far too damn long. He longed for you, his heart ached all the time and it made it hard to focus. He regretted his decision to leave you; he had been foolish and vulnerable, rushing in to cauterise the pain before deciding if it was best in the long term. Now as he lay in bed, imagining the press of your warm body against his did he finally realise what his problem actually was.

Despite what he had told himself over and over again, he was terrified of rejection. He had turned his greatest weakness into his best defence, erecting barriers to protect himself over the years.

You knew him better than anyone in his life, but could you love the darkness in him? He didn't think anyone could. It was a part of who he was, and it had gotten him through more than his fair share of bad times. For him and you to truly be together he would have to show you that side and the idea of you running from that destroyed him. By taking you out of the equation he had been protecting himself, he didn't want to give you an opportunity to hurt him, so he had hurt you instead.

He closed his dark eyes, inhaling deeply, imagining your familiar floral scent filling his nostrils the way it did when you slept beside him. He wanted to roll over, to gather you up in his arms and bury his face in your hair. He wanted you with him, his lips on your skin as you said his name. His resolve was snapping, he could feel it bending under his selfish urges as he imagined what it would feel like to be whole again, you here with him where you belonged.

He climbed out of bed, his bare athletic legs swinging over the side as he stripped the cool sheets from his naked form. The chill in the air struck him suddenly, causing goosebumps to prickle on his skin. He groped for his navy-blue dressing gown, the one that you always liked to wear after a shower and wrapped it around his nude body, cinching it at the waist with the belt.

There was a knock at his apartment door. The sound was gentle, almost timid. He opened it as if by compulsion.

"Mi vida." he whispered, a small smile playing across his lips as his eyes lingered upon you.

Your hair was loose, falling across your face. He couldn't believe that it had been over six weeks since he had last spoken to you. 

Mike opened the door even wider as a gesture for you to step over threshold. 

"Mi vida, there's so much I want to say..." he uttered.

Your soft pert lips were on his, your body pressing urgently against him, your fingers combed through his messy dark hair. His strong arms wrapped around you, drawing you even closer and clasping you to his wanting form. Your tongue dipped into his mouth, desperate and seeking as your hands slid down across his chest and came to rest on the knot holding the dressing gown in place. He wanted you; he wanted you so badly he almost lost it when you undid the belt of his dressing gown.

“Mi vida…” he implored.

“Hush Mike, we’ll talk about it later.”

Love Mike Durate? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

The whole vibe for my Mike Durate story Past Mistakes.

Thanks again for saving me. Someday, I'll save you too.

— Zelda Fitzgerald, Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda: The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald

[mysoulisasunflower]

MAURICE COMPTE as MIKE DUARTE

(gifset 6)

(I still have 5 posts like this in my queue, i'm not lying)

[bullet-prooflove]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ”  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

a wonderfully patient and creative nonnie asked for a list of prompts based on interactions between two good friends in the aftermath of a trauma that happens to one of them, and i’m nothing if not a sucker for angst and deeply emotional connections! so here we go! i’m hoping these will be up to the nonnie’s expectations! have a wonderful day, my lovelies, and DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST !!

“ i really hate seeing you like this… “

“ why don’t we hang out tonight? like we used to, you know? order in cheap take-out, watch crappy movies, go for a walk… whatever you want, right? “

“ please say something… anything. even if it’s telling me to shut up and leave you alone… just say something. “

“ i really miss you, you know. “

“ i’m here. you got that? i don’t care if you never say anything to me ever again. i don’t care. i’m not going away, and i’m not going to stop being here for you, no matter how long you glare at me or ignore me or pretend that you’re okay. because i know you’re not. i know. “

“ talk to me. i don’t care what we talk about. it doesn’t have to be anything big. we don’t need to talk about whatever happened to you, not unless you want to. i just… just talk to me, will you? “

“ you know, i talk to a lot of people every single day. i hear all their voices telling me all kinds of stuff; i hear it all. and the only voice i really wanna listen to is yours, you know? even when you’re driving me crazy. so come on. please… just drive me crazy again? “

“ …seriously? no come-back? no witty retort? no… sarcastic shot at me? come on, i… i know we never ask these things, but, honestly, i’m worried about you. what’s going on? “

“ penny for your thoughts? hell. a dollar? ten? fifty? my whole life-savings? damn, at this rate i’d give away everything i own just to hear your voice again. “

“ this is like, the ninth voicemail i’ve left, and i know you hate voicemails, so i’m thinking this might be the one that pisses you off enough to pick up the phone and talk to me. because despite the number of times i’ve told you to shut up, i’m actually begging you to say something, now. weird how things work out, isn’t it? anyway. pick up your freaking phone, moron. please. “

“ will you please talk to me? please? “

“ i have exhausted every single topic that i can think of to get you to open your mouth and say something to me. all of them. you leave me no choice… how are you? “

“ listen, we’re all really worried about you. okay? and we wanna help you, but we don’t know how. so how about you write us a note, or something? maybe just, open the door, huh? i just wanna know that you’re okay. “

“ you’re not alone, you know. you’ve got people who love you. who care about you. you’ve got me. and i’m not going anywhere. “

“ look, i don’t know what happened to you. and i don’t need you to tell me, okay? i don’t… i just want you to know that i’m here. i got you. no matter what. and if you need some space, then… then i can leave. just tell me what you need, okay? “

“ i don’t need you to say anything. you don’t even need to open the door. i’m just gonna slide this paper under the door, okay? you tell me what you want for dinner, and i’ll bring it up. “

“ i’m sending you on a list of therapists and group support meetings in the area, okay? you don’t have to go, but… promise me you’ll take a look at the list, right? “

“ listen, i know you gave me a copy of your key for emergencies, and this feels like an emergency, but… if the silent treatment is part of you trying to get some space, then i don’t wanna intrude. you know? so just text me if that’s what this is, and i’ll leave you alone. “

“ i know, i know. you asked me to leave you alone. but that was two weeks ago, okay? and i haven’t heard from you. you aren’t answering my texts, you aren’t even reading them. nobody’s seen or heard from you, and… and now i just want to know that you’re okay. so please, open your door, and let me make sure that you’re safe, will you? “

[the-hinky-panda]

If you want to watch SVU without waiting/buying I watch the Mike Duarte episodes on www.swatchseries.is

If the “is” part doesn’t work swap it with “ru”

I only watch it on swatch because SVU is quite triggering for me but gods I love Maurice Compte.

Thank you for sending this to me, sweet anon! That is very kind of you! And I'm putting it out there for others who may want to watch it for Maurice but not the triggering material.

[justreblogginfics]

Me after watching THAT SVU episode 😭:

I wanted him to make it so much! He will be missed 🥺

Video from YouTube, “The Middle”

[bullet-prooflove]

This is how Mike realises he's falling in love with you. The sex is great, he loves what the two of you get up to in bed but it's been a fucking gruelling day, he's exhausted, he's emotionally wrung out and you aren't much better. All he wants to do is curl up in bed with you and hold you in his arms. He wants to bury his face in your hair and fall asleep with you pressed against his chest feeling, safe and cared for. He craves the intimacy of it, he wants to take shelter in someone else for a while and you are his sanctuary, the only place he can relax and let his guard down.

You wanna come over & just go to sleep?

[mysoulisasunflower]

Mike Duarte & Terry Bruno | Law & Order : SVU

(part 2)

[thoroughlymodernminutia]

-SVU, s24e12, Blood Out