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xcherryerim · 7 months ago

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Strange Fascination

Part two: The Shadow Under the Bed

part one

Stalker Mike x gn!reader

“And your dreams, Won't you say that in there I'm yours and keep you safe? Say you're mine. I'll always be there.” — Monster Under the Bed by Emily Mei

Notes: I would recommend reading the first part, as it explains Mike’s obsession and stalking behavior, but in summary, After not seeing you to pick up your brother he panics and goes around the area where you live to see the reason of your absence. At night, he decides to break into your place.

Also idk if it’s obvious but Mike is too high and sleepy that he thinks he’s having a sex/wet dream but he isn’t. If you wanna skip to the smut part look for the “❥”

"Not feeling like going to school today, bud?" You asked gently, settling onto Gregory's bed. Placing your hand on his forehead, you winced at the heat radiating from his skin. Sickness was a rarity in your family, making it all the more frightening when it struck.

He shook his head weakly, a small cough escaping him. His pale face was marred with beads of sweat, his eyes brimming with pain, looking like a Victorian man on his deathbed.

…

Despite your brother's reluctance to eat, you managed to coax him into trying a few bites of his favorite meal - mac and cheese. The comforting aroma filled the room, mingling with the laughter from the TV as you played his favorite show, South Park.

You chose the most lighthearted episodes, hoping to distract him from his discomfort. The colorful animation flickered across the screen, punctuated by the show's signature humor. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Can we get pizza later?" Gregory pleaded, those puppy dog eyes working their magic. You rolled your eyes. Sometimes, it was impossible not to cave in.

"You're pushing it," you responded, but even as you spoke, you knew you were losing the battle. His eyes held a pleading look, a silent promise that maybe, just maybe, he would start feeling better soon.

"Please," he begged, and there it was - that hint of vulnerability that got you every time. You exhale, relenting.

"Fine, for dinner, we can get pizza."

Gregory's face broke into a grin, the first genuine smile you'd seen today. Relief washed over you, knowing that you'd made him happy, even in this small way.

As you sat next to your brother, watching him slowly pick at his food, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. You remembered how it felt to be sick, how even the simplest tasks seemed impossible. But you also remembered how comforting it was to have someone there for you, offering support and understanding.

So, you continued to sit with him, occasionally laughing at the absurdity unfolding on the screen. And as the hours passed, you hoped that your presence, along with the familiarity of his favorite things, would help him feel just a little bit better.

….

After tucking Gregory in, you wished him a good night, feeling a sense of happiness wash over you.

❥ Despite everything, tonight had been a relatively normal evening. Yet, as you settled into bed, your exhaustion refused to cooperate. Sleep evaded you, a cruel tease dancing just beyond reach.

Frustrated, you stood up, making your way to the medicine cabinet. Melatonin pills, their potential untapped. With a sigh, you popped a few, waiting impatiently for the promised drowsiness, To no avail.

Instead, you found yourself pouring a generous portion of liquid sleeping aid down your throat, mimicking the carefree college days of the past.

“This is ridiculous,” you thought, tossing and turning under your covers.

However, the combination of pills and syrup began to take effect, lulling you into slumber. But as the night wore on, you found yourself awake once more. Tired of fighting, you clicked on the lamp beside your bed, casting a warm glow across the room.

Walking to the window, you gazed upon the waning crescent moon hanging low in the sky. Something was comforting about its steady presence, a constant among the chaos of life. A yawn escaped you, and with it, a realization. Perhaps your sleeplessness stemmed from worry. Worrying about Gregory, about the future, about everything in between.

With a deep breath, you decided to address the root of your restlessness. Stepping out of your room, you headed towards the kitchen, determined to make yourself a calming cup of tea.

Once you returned, clutching the steaming cup of tea, you paused near the window. In your haste, the cup tilted slightly, spilling hot liquid onto your leg. A sharp yelp, almost a full-on scream escaped your lips, but you stifled it immediately, not wanting to disturb Gregory.

At the sudden scream, Mike’s panic gnawed at his insides, threatening to consume him whole. He had pushed his luck too far, he thought. Invading personal space without consideration. Now, he waited, trembling and exposed, anticipating the inevitable confrontation.

Hot tendrils of pain radiated from the spot, but you forced yourself to focus on your breath. Slow, deep inhales and exhales carried you through the discomfort, easing the sting. Soon enough, the heat subsided, leaving behind a dull ache.

When you achieved a semblance of peace, you pulled out your sage green journal. Flipping to a blank page. Chronicles of your day poured onto the paper, each sentence capturing the highs and lows of your day. It was therapeutic, a way to process the chaos of life.

And then, there it was - mention of Mike. Your words were casual, almost carefree. “I didn't get to see Mike today though, hopefully, I can tomorrow.” You mumbled just two sentences, but they carried weight. You remembered his name, and you wanted to see him again.

Underneath the bed, Mike's body stiffened. How had you retained his name after such brief encounters? The thought filled him with equal parts pride and embarrassment. You, who knew him so little, desired more interaction. This revelation shook him to his core, Was he just a stranger in your eyes, or did you hold a place for him in your heart?

"Mike, Mike, Mike." Your voice was soft, laced with a mix of exhaustion and longing. As you reached for the nightstand, your hands quivered with anticipation. Mike watched from his hiding place, his heart pounding in his chest.

The moment you pulled out your toy, his eyes widened in shock. This was not what he had expected but, as you began to use it, your body writhing with delight, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

The combination of drowsiness from the pills and syrup, along with the physical release, created a heady mixture of sensations. You moaned softly, your voice ringing through the room. Each sound was like a siren's call, drawing him closer to the edge of his sanity.

His adrenaline surged, his body tense with anticipation. As you repeated his name, his heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't quite name. It was a strange mix of pride, longing, and something else entirely - something dangerous.

He felt himself leaking precum, the mere sound of your voice driving him to the brink. Disbelief washed over him; you were thinking of him during your moments of intimacy. He was grateful - no, relieved - that he wasn't alone in this longing.

Without another thought, Mike unzipped his pants, lowering both trousers and boxers just enough to free his aching erection. Semi-naked to the cool night air, his need pulsed with every beat of his heart. Every whimper you uttered drew him closer, matching the rhythm with feverish intensity.

As if entranced, he stroked himself with fervor, mirroring your satisfaction. The air was thick with appetite, heavy with the scent of forbidden lust and connection. Your cries grew louder, almost like you were urging him on, and he responded in kind, matching your pace with increasing fervor.

The boundary between fantasy and reality danced a tantalizing waltz within him, as though the sleeping pills had crafted a mesmerizing dreamscape. His frenzied strokes built the tension to a fever pitch, and as his name echoed through the night, Mike emerged from his hiding spot. A predatory grin graced his lips, and ragged gasps betrayed the satisfaction coursing through him.

"Mike?!" you stammered, your eyes locked onto the object of your fantasies. The man standing before you proudly displayed his erection, taunting yet gratifying.

"My sweet, sweet angel," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he closed the distance between you. "I knew you wanted me."

His fingertips danced delicately across your features, like an artist carefully sculpting his next piece. "You've been thinking of me, haven't you?" The question hung in the air, a declaration that shattered the façade of secrecy. No longer was he a stranger observing you; instead, you were two souls entangled in a passionate embrace.

"I've waited so long for this moment," Mike confessed, his breath warm against your skin. "To have you all to myself... to hear you call my name like that." Hunger glinted in his eyes, a testament to his craving.

With a sudden, possessive hold, Mike clutched your chin, demanding eye contact. "But now that I have it... I'll never let you go." His words carried a weighted promise, a tether connecting you both in a web of his obsession and yearning.

“Mike what are you—“ you began, but before you could utter another word, Mike silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips firm yet tender. His tongue slipped past your parted lips, igniting a firestorm of sensations within you.

"Shh," he whispered, breaking away from the kiss just enough to speak. "No more questions. Tonight, we belong to each other, and nothing else matters."

His skilled hands traced every curve and contour of your body, exploring with a purposeful tenderness that left you breathless. "Tell me... do you know how long I've dreamed of this?" he asked, "To have you, all to myself, like this..."

Mike claimed his position above you, his throbbing length pressing insistently against your outer thigh. The mere touch sent ripples of desire coursing through him, and he started to slightly hump.

"You've consumed my every waking thought," Mike’s breath hitched, the weight of his obsession finally surfacing. As months of longing and secrecy culminated in this single moment, Mike's need became palpable. His breath hitched with each ragged exhale, proof of his pent-up desperation.

“I've waited for this, dreamt of this," he added, his voice low and husky.

For a moment, the outside world ceased to exist. You and Mike were entwined in a dance of eagerness and confusion, lost in the euphoria of the moment. The distinction between reality and fantasy didn't matter; it was irrelevant in the face of your connection.

Fixating on the silhouette of your body, he noticed your hand wrapped around the toy. Acting on instinct, Mike adjusted the device gently, synchronizing its rhythm with yours. His arousal surged at the sight, causing a low, guttural groan to escape him.

"You look so good like this, darling," Mike whispered, his warm breath dancing across your skin. "I've wanted this for so long... to touch you, to be with you..."

With delicate precision, Mike brushed your most sensitive spot with his thumb, earning a sharp gasp from you. "I know you feel it too..." he whispered, his words laced with raw truth.

The coolness from his hand traced up your thigh, causing your body to shiver involuntarily.

"Let me pleasure you, the way you deserve," Mike whispered, his fingers moving with slow, calculated strokes. He increased the pressure, his thumb tracing the throbbing between your legs. Drawing closer still, he left a trail of scorching kisses along your jawline, nipping gently at the delicate skin of your neck. His other hand explored your curves, mapping them with meticulous care.

"You're perfect... I want to worship every inch of you," he murmured, his breath hitching as your responses to his touch grew more pronounced.

"Tell me what you need," he urged, his gaze locked firmly on yours. "I'll give you anything you want, just say the word."

"Fuck me, please," you whined, the vibrating toy making it difficult to talk.

Mike's eyes flashed with raw hunger at your impassioned plea. Leaning in, his warm breath hit your skin, and a low, rumbling growl escaped his chest. "As you wish."

In a deliberate movement, he removed the toy from your trembling body. "I'll give you everything you crave."

With a grace born of fervor, Mike positioned himself between your quivering thighs. He gently lifted your legs, granting access to your awaiting entrance. The head of his cock pressed insistently against you, demanding entry.

Savoring the exquisite tension, Mike paused for a fleeting moment before burying himself deeply into you. A rough groan escaped him. The sensation was indescribable – a potent mix of pain and pleasure that stole your breath. His pace was both fierce and controlled, striking a delicate balance between his untamed passion and your comfort.

"I'm going to make you scream my name," he warned. A promise hung heavy in the air, fueling the flames of passion between you both.

Gripping your hips, his fingers bit into your skin as his pace quickened. In a display of brutal possession, he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy.

"You're mine," he proclaimed, the words laden with ownership. His eyes bore into yours, leaving no doubt about his claim.

you clutched his shirt desperately, searching for something solid amidst the tempest of sensations. "All yours," you whimpered, your body responding to his rhythm, yearning for more.

"All mine..." Mike answered possessively, digging his fingertips into your hips.

Driven by your need and his unquenchable thirst, he sinks into you with unbridled intensity. The sensation was a revelation - an exquisite fit, an intimate conquest. Your bodies merged, creating a symphony of gratification.

"You feel so good around me like you were fucking made just for me," Short of breath, his hips snapping forward in relentless pursuit of bliss. Each stroke brought him closer to the pinnacle, fueled by your mutual hunger.

"Oh god..." you cried out, clutching at him even tighter as the pleasure built within you.

Panting heavily, Mike's voice transformed into a guttural growl as he neared the precipice. "I'm going to fill you up, mark you as mine," he promised menacingly. Bending his head, he grazed your neck with his teeth in a primal claim of possession.

His grip on your hips tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust deeper inside you. "Take all of me, baby. Let me claim every part of you," he commanded, his eyes locked onto yours.

With each powerful thrust, both edging closer to orgasm, the tension coiling ever tighter. It was as though no other concerns existed – no consequences, no worries, only the two of them, entangled in a web of unrelenting carnal nature.

You cried, your nails raking down his back, clawing at his slick skin for stability. Your bodies moved as one, driven by an irresistible force that defied logic and reason. The scent of vigor filled the air, mingling with the sound of their labored breaths.

As the final moments stretched out before them, Mike's drive grew frantic, his eyes locked on yours in a hypnotic dance. Your cries grew louder, each one a plea for release, for the sweet relief that lay just beyond reach. And then, with a sudden jolt, you peaked, your body convulsing around him, a triumphant cry escaping your lips.

Mike's eyes widened as he felt your body twitch, his name echoing through the room. Unable to resist any longer, he followed suit, burying himself deep within you as he found his release. His world narrowed to the feel of you surrounding him, the sweet embrace of your warmth.

Yet, his need for you remained insatiable. Collapsing on top of you, he embraced you possessively, your bodies sliding against each other, chasing every tremor of your shared climax.

His movements were ragged and sloppy. "Mine... you're mine!" he whined and groaned your name against your lips, capturing you in a deep, fiery kiss. Overstimulation faded into the background, swallowed by the heady rush of their union.

This was a dream, wasn't it? A dream world where you belonged to him and him alone.

Huffing and puffing, Mike whispered, "I love you," his voice laced with genuine emotion. Nuzzling against your neck, he claimed your lips once more in a searing kiss, his words a confession born of obsession and desire. All those hours spent observing you, planning this moment... they were finally rewarded.

His heart beat wildly against your chest, matching the rhythm of yours. You both lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the afterglow of devoting love and possession.

…..

Mike woke up to the warm glow of sunlight filtering through an unfamiliar window. Confusion furrowed his brow as he shifted his body to the side, revealing your sleeping form next to him.

Panic welled up inside him, his mind racing to piece together the fragments of last night. Had everything that transpired between you truly happened, or was it all a dream fueled by his overuse of sleeping pills? Deciding there was no time to waste, He carefully extracted himself from the bed, moving with the silence of a thief. Gathering his belongings, he paused to steal one last, longing glance at your peaceful face.

In a sudden burst of impulse, he approached your dresser, quietly opening a drawer and snatching a pair of your underwear. A gleam lit his eyes as he slipped them into his pocket. Then, without another word, he climbed out the window and melted into the morning shadows.

As he disappeared from view, doubt lingered in the air. Was it real or merely a product of his overactive imagination? Regardless, the daylight served as a harsh reminder of the risk he had taken, the line he had crossed.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the window closing. A coy smile spread across your lips as you watched Mike's retreating form, amusement twinkling in your eyes.

"So predictable, my dear Mike..." you murmured to yourself.

You knew full well that he was oblivious to the security camera discreetly positioned just outside. The unlocked window - an open invitation he simply couldn't resist - had been your doing. And, as expected, he had fallen right into your trap.

Shifting onto your side, you let your fingers trail across the rumpled sheets, still warm from his embrace. A contented sigh escaped you as you nestled back into the pillows. You reveled in the knowledge that Mike was utterly ensnared in your web. And with a devious glint in your eye, you vowed to keep him there, anticipating your next encounter with eager delight.

After all, you had no intention of letting him go.

Thank you so much for reading! should I make a part 3?

Originally it was going to be two parts but if you guys liked it I can make another part (mainly smut). If you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask them since i know the story might be confusing.

If you guys like the story and want to be added to the possible part 3 let me know so I can add you to my taglist!

taglist 🍒: @lile6969 @fatinhadesiners06 @jhutchismyl0verb0y @lefteagleblizzard @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @jhutch-bf @cassiecasluciluce

#mike schmidt smut #strange fascination mini series #strange fascination #mike schmidt stalker #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt headcanons #mike fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x gn!reader #stalker mike schmidt

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xcherryerim · 8 months ago

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Strange Fascination

Part One: A Mocha With A side Of Your Sight

pt.two

Stalker!Mike x gn!reader

“Every morning, in front of you at last, I stand again, as if I'm enchanted. I'm still half-awake, the haziness guiding me towards you.” — Iced Coffee by Red velvet

This story will lead to smut (not this part but the second) If you’re not up for that, do not read this!

Warning: obsession/ stalking | mentions of over-usage (with sleeping pills but yk) | Breaking in readers house

Notes: This part is meant to describe Mike’s fascination on reader and how he ends up breaking into reader’s house so, this part mainly focuses on Mike along side Abby. Part two will focus mainly on reader. (also this was revised like 3 times so, yk not that perfect)

Summary: After not seeing you at school to pick up your brother, his mind is flooded with worry. In an excuse to hangout with his sister, Mike drove near your place, observing your every move through the cafe window.

Mike tends to obsess easily. Whether it's with re-living the events of his lost brother, collecting nostalgic artifacts, or reading a stack load of psychology books. It’s an innocent hobby and it’s not harming anyone, but lately, he started to be captivated by a new subject.

Four months have passed since Abby began attending middle school, but Mike can still vividly recall the very first moment he laid eyes on you. That fateful day remains etched in his memory, as though it happened just yesterday.

Despite the mounting stress surrounding his impending court case against his Aunt, Mike attempted to maintain a composed demeanor for Abby's sake. She was embarking on a significant transition, moving from her familiar surroundings to a larger and more complex educational environment.

As he patiently awaited Abby’s emergence from the classroom, his nerves were further tested when a stranger appeared and positioned themselves near him, close enough for the musky Vanilla scent to reach his nose.

Under normal circumstances, Mike would shy away from making eye contact with strangers, unless he had a specific reason to engage with them. However, on this particular day, he found himself inexplicably drawn to look up, and there you are, standing before him. In his eyes, you appeared as a divine being, an angel who had descended from the heavens, sent to watch over him and him alone.

Your presence sent a shiver down his spine, heightening his nervous energy while simultaneously eliciting a sense of comfort and security.

Though Mike remained silent, his eyes meticulously took in every detail of your visage, committing your likeness to memory. His behavior was not intended to be unsettling; rather, it stemmed from an innate need to capture your image in his mind.

Suddenly, you broke the silence with a timid "Hi," which caught him off guard. Taken aback, Mike responded with a soft, "Hello, you."

While seeing you for mere moments each weekday may seem like a fleeting encounter, Mike's keen observation skills allowed him to make the most of these brief instances. He meticulously studied your routine, scrutinizing the subtle variations in the timing of your arrival to collect your brother.

On Mondays and Thursdays, you could be found arriving precisely at 3:20, while Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays offered slightly longer windows, ranging from 3:30 to 3:46.

Through diligent study and careful attention, Mike managed to piece together a comprehensive understanding of your schedule, ensuring that he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to catch a glimpse of you.

In addition to monitoring your schedule, Mike began to decode the nuances of your moods based on your daily attire. Although you generally stuck to the same color scheme, he discerned subtle differences that hinted at your emotional state.

For instance, a particular long-sleeve shirt signaled haste, while an oversized graphic tee indicated fatigue. Even minor alterations to your hairstyle served as clues to your mental landscape. Over time, Mike committed countless details to memory, even going so far as to surreptitiously follow your vehicle to ascertain your home address.

However, despite these extensive efforts at understanding and learning about you, the interactions remained limited to brief greetings - a tantalizing taste of connection amidst the vast sea of unspoken longing.

On this particular Wednesday, chaos reigned as students spilled from the classroom, jostling one another in their rush to leave. Amidst the pandemonium, Abby found herself standing beside Mike, sensing the turmoil in his gaze.

Intrigued, she queried, "Why are we still here?" Her question snapped him back to the present, and he stammered, struggling to formulate a coherent thought.

Remembering the purpose of their wait, he asked, "Um, Abbs, did your classmate... was it Gregory? Did he come to school today?"

Abby couldn't help but furrow her brow, wondering if Mike's preoccupation was related to you. "No," she replied briefly before leading the way, prompting him to follow reluctantly.

Attempting to shift gears, he inquired about the solar system project Mike helped her with.

"So, how did your presentation go? Did you score a hundred?"

Abby sighed, clarifying, "The science teacher never gives hundreds, but I managed to snag a ninety-seven."

“That’s still pretty good, Abbs. Don’t worry.” He smiled.

Mike struggled to suppress his desire to visit your residence, the concern for your well-being clouding his judgment. His anxiety threatened to derail his focus on the road, nearly resulting in a collision and earning him seven irate honks from fellow drivers.

Abby wondered if her mental prayers on the road helped them get home safely. She was now standing in front of the kitchen table, as his brother, still with his anxious look served her spaghetti. As she polished off her meal, she observed Mike's restless hands continuously picking at his uneaten food.

Unsure whether to approach him about his obvious distress, she hesitated, suspecting that he might dismiss her concerns. Enveloped by the deafening silence, she contemplated retreating to her room or remaining to offer support. Ultimately, it was Mike who broke the quiet standoff, tentatively proposing, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

This unexpected invitation perplexed her; sibling bonds between the two had predominantly revolved around shared chores, academic assistance from Mike, and marathon sessions of cheesy films.

However, the unfamiliarity of a walk piqued Abby’s interest. Sensing hidden intentions, she inquired, "Why?"

Mike attempted to deflect his sister's probing gaze, replying casually, "Just feel like getting some fresh air."

With that, he grabbed his keys and confidently declared, "I know a great spot."

Mike navigated his vehicle to a parking spot near the park, consciously avoiding your location to not seem suspicious. As they walked, Mike maintained a brisk pace, pushing Abby to her limits as she struggled to keep up.

After a few exhausting minutes, the excuse he needed to invite Abby to the coffee shop on your street appeared.

"Oh, you're tired?" he feigned innocence, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I think I recall seeing a coffee shop nearby."

Upon reaching the coffee shop, the once-unfamiliar street suddenly held an uncanny familiarity for Abby. Though she couldn't comprehend the reasoning behind this sensation, she was relieved to see a genuine grin spread across Mike's face. While appreciative of his newfound composure, the peculiar nature of his smile continued to nag at her subconscious. Little did she know, her apprehension foreshadowed the depth of his new fixation.

Mike's gaze roamed the coffee shop, absorbing the ambiance - the warm lighting, the rich scent of coffee beans, and the soothing fragrance of lavender. His imagination ran wild, conjuring visions of an intimate date with you in this very locale.

He envisioned himself sitting across from you at a cozy café. As you brought the mug to your lips, he reached out gently, wiping away a stray dollop from your mouth. Your eyes met his, filled with warmth and understanding.

In this fantasy, he leaned in, lips meeting softly in a tender kiss. His fingers traced the softness of your cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his touch. The taste of espresso mingled with the sweetness of your lips, a unique blend that only you could create. In this dream reality, there was no fear, no anxiety, just two people finding comfort in each other's presence.

“What would you like to order?” The Barista on the register repeated.

Startled from his reverie, Mike hastily blurted out his order, "A latte and a mocha, both small!"

Aware of his volume, he flushed with embarrassment, but his impassioned state rendered him indifferent to etiquette. Paying for the drinks without delay, he claimed a seat by the window facing your house, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Despite the glaring sunlight and the parade of cars obscuring his view, Mike strained his eyes to catch sight of you through the window. Your shadowy outline offered solace, indicating that you were safe and sound. In contrast, your brother Gregory appeared increasingly agitated, doodling with shaky hands.

Concerned, you checked on him intermittently, hoping to ease his discomfort.

Your house consumed Mike's attention, leaving him oblivious to the arrival of the drinks. Abby stepped in to retrieve their coffees, presenting Mike with a gentle nudge back to reality.

"How's yours?" she inquired, attempting to break his trance. Snapped out of his daydream, Mike took a sip and confirmed, "Yeah, it's good." Almost immediately, his gaze returned to the reflection of your house in the mirror.

Fixated on your home, Mike caught a glimpse of you speaking on the phone, setting off a barrage of questions in his mind. Who were you speaking to? Was there someone else in your life? Dismissing the thought of a secret partner, he rationalized that he would have detected indicators of such-jewelry, perhaps a ring. Unless…

"You seem to like that house," Abby observed, taking a sip of her latte.

“I like the design. You know I wanted to be a—“

"Contractor," Abby concluded, and Mike nodded vigorously. His fascination with architecture was well-known, but the true extent of his infatuation remained shrouded in mystery.

"Hopefully, you'll get to live in a beautiful home someday, Abby," Mike responded earnestly, his stare fixed on the distant house. While not prone to overt displays of emotion, his wishes for her happiness emanated sincerely. He genuinely cherishes his sister.

"I hope you do too," Abby whispered, her tone laced with warmth. Pondering whether this excursion sprang from simple brotherly camaraderie rather than anything sinister, she allowed herself a flicker of optimism.

Though his gaze remained trained on your place, the tenderness in Abby's voice elicited a faint smile from Mike.

"Let's get a better look," she proposed, rising from her seat.

Inside, Mike wrestled with uncertainty, questioning the wisdom of their actions. Nonetheless, the need to observe you closely trumped his reservations, justifying this intrusion into your privacy.

“I like how you think.” He replied, following his sister out of the coffee shop.

Fortuitously, the absence of traffic allowed Mike to traverse the street without incident, his impulsive stride mirroring a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Unaware of the potential danger, he followed you with unwavering determination, guided by an insatiable curiosity.

While Abby visualized herself residing in such a picturesque abode, lost in dreams of interior decor, Mike scrutinized the property, seeking vulnerabilities. Numerous avenues of entry loomed ominously, igniting a protective instinct within him. The last thing Mike wanted was for a total stranger to be near your house.

Fixated on identifying threats, Mike scanned the landscape from left to right. His focus alighted upon a window, likely your room, taunting him with easy access. Steeling himself against temptation, he decided to not to cross that line- at least, for now.

The sudden noise of crunchy leaves being stomped upon immediately made Mike walk away from the property as he forced Abby out of there, yet his eyes analyzed the new stranger, walking cluelessly at your house with a box of Pizza at hand.

Relief washed over Mike as his insecurities dissolved, only to be supplanted by irritation at the presumed flirtatiousness of the pizza delivery boy. Perhaps he was overreacting, yet his protective instincts screamed for confrontation, longing to rain down retribution upon the perceived transgressor.

Yet, Mike resisted allowing his fury to dictate his actions. With a renewed sense of purpose, he hastily departed from the scene. Your safety brought him solace, but your home's vulnerability haunted him.

As the clock struck 10:30 pm, Mike found himself unable to sleep, despite having ingested more than the recommended dose of his sleeping pills. Typically, these medications ensured a swift descent into slumber, but tonight, they failed to deliver their usual sedative effect.

Despite the meticulously arranged bedding, the soft hum of nature sounds, and the impeccably positioned Nebraska poster, Mike's restlessness persisted. Could it be that thoughts of you encroached upon his subconscious? Unsure of how to quell his turbulent emotions, he lay awake, grappling with his feelings.

At 11:16 am, the silence of the night echoed through. In this deserted hour, as others slumbered, Mike contemplated a surreptitious visit. Perhaps, under the cloak of darkness, he could safeguard your sanctuary from unseen threats.

Wrapping himself in a mantle of darkness, Mike donned a black cap, hoodie, and athletic bottoms - attire atypical for him. Mike did this to devise an alibi. if someone sees him making sure you're safe (which he knows in the sight of strangers it might look weird) he can just say he was exercising. Perfect solution.

Mike walked on his tippy toes, making sure to make no noise, as he grabbed his keys and made sure the house was locked tightly. Locks secure, keys in hand, he commenced the engine.

Despite the pill-induced haze clouding his senses, his concentration sharpened as he navigated deserted streets, only semi-trailers punctuating his journey. Finally arriving at your residence, he prepared to watch over you from the shadows.

The closer Mike got to you, the more his heart raced, pumping blood like a freight train against his ribcage. Every step he took brought forth a flurry of emotions - excitement mingled with anxiety, fear intertwined with anticipation. The fine line between obsession and love blurred in his mind, and it fueled him further into the unknown.

He stopped mere feet away from the window of your room. Peering through the glass pane, he could see the faint silhouette of you under the covers, sleeping peacefully. A wave of relief washed over him, replacing the earlier dread with a strange sense of satisfaction.

He watched you breathe rhythmically, your chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Despite the late hour, there was something comforting about seeing you safe and sound.

His fingers traced the cold surface of the glass, feeling its smooth texture against his palm. A mix of longing and protectiveness swelled within him, making his chest tighten. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to you, hold you close, and keep you safe from all harm. Yet, he knew better than to disturb your slumber. This was as close as he dared get.

Mike's heart pounded in his chest as the lights flickered on inside the house. His instincts kicked in, propelling him into the nearest hiding spot - a cluster of dense bushes. He pressed himself against the cool ground, hoping to remain unseen.

What could have caused you to switch on the lights so suddenly? Were you disturbed by something? Or did you have a nightmare?

In the glow of the moonlight, he could see you standing by the window, looking out into the night. Your posture seemed tense and your hoodie confirmed it.

There was an unmistakable air of distress around you, which resonated deeply with Mike's own experiences. Could it be possible that you were going through something similar?

A wave of empathy surged through Mike. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to offer you a shoulder to lean on, a warm embrace to banish your fears away. But he knew better than to intrude on your privacy. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching over you from the darkness, praying silently for your well-being.

As you emerged from the room, Mike hesitated briefly. His instincts screamed at him to hide, to disappear into the shadows before being discovered. But something within him rebelled, urging him forward. Before he could think twice, he was lifting the window sash, the squeaky hinge echoing in the silence of the night.

Once inside, he hurriedly shut the window, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He knew this was reckless, yet it felt necessary. As he scanned the slightly messy room, his eyes fell upon the forgotten spot beneath the bed - a haven of security amidst uncertainty. Without giving it a second thought, he squeezed himself underneath, his body brushing against discarded clothes and half-filled notebooks.

In this cramped space, he listened closely for any signs of detection. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the grit and dust from the floor. He felt exposed yet strangely protected, like a child playing hide and seek.

"Sorry," he whispered under his breath, hoping you would understand his intentions.

Mike was already anxious, the adrenaline of being in your room and the effects of the dosage made him a panicked mess.

The sound of you entering the room sent a ripple of dread through Mike. His heart pounded against his ribcage, beating out an erratic rhythm that threatened to give him away. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling in the dimly lit corner where he lay concealed. His breath hitched in his throat, each gasp amplified in the quiet space.

When you moved closer to the bed, Mike held his breath, bracing for impact. But instead of anger or fear, a scream echoed through the room. Startled, he scrambled back, knocking into a pile of books that had somehow ended up under the bed. Papers rustled and pages fluttered, creating a symphony of noise that seemed deafening in the silent bedroom.

"I'm fucked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

To be continued…

Thank you so much for reading. Hope you will support this mini series! xoxo (if you want to be tagged on the next part let me know!)

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