#but he’s safe and happy now and that’s what matters to mike

[monkee-mobile]

Do you think Davybaby ever regressed before meeting/joining the Monkees? Either in England or after moving to America

And if so how do you think he dealt with it?

I feel like he did but to a different level. he probably never really OFFICIALLY regressed and was really of seen as a little one during it until he came to the states, but when he was particularly stressed out while still in england he’d often go into a kind of weak state if his defenses were really down, he just didn’t process it through really regressing like he would later on. in england, he’d try his absolute hardest not to have that happen. he’d just feel really small and vulnerable and had no one there to protect him or help him through it except his sisters, but they didn’t jump right to babying him, they’d more just help him through the panic attack part of it all. usually he’d just lock himself in his room if he couldn’t brave through it and curl in on himself and sob until he fell asleep (poor thing). he’d often start sucking his thumb, but he just took that as a “weak” behavior that was just coming back from his childhood. He’d also often go pretty nonverbal for a while afterwards but he’d push through it all and move on (which definitely wasn’t the best for him, but it got him through that time. poor little guy didn’t face his own emotions at all). this kind of shutdown didn’t happen all that often cause davy worked hard to build a tough shell and braved it through all the way to when he moved to america and got out of the pressures of his family.

the move really did break him down because suddenly he was alone in a strange country so when the boys first met him he was definitely flighty and not the suave kind of guy he got to be once he became more comfortable, but they were all new to each other so davy didn’t really have a chance to feel super safe to just let himself feel things so he kept up the hard exterior he had built at first. but of course the monkees became very comfortable with each other and basically climb all over each other at all moments so davy started going “feral toddler mode” a lot where he would just go all silly and giggly and playful, so his comfort came through in a relatively childlike way, but he didn’t panic regress until a while after the guys were a group.

but eventually it happens and davy breaks down really hard at some point. it’s the boys who really start babying him when it happens. in the past he didn’t have anyone to really take care of him but things kind of clicked when he was held and talked to softly and he just sunk into the love that was given to him and it helped him process everything anew.

#the monkees #davy jones #davybaby #asks #i didn’t really go into specific incidents because i don’t really have official headcanon laid out for him #but this is how i see his regression at this point #the other monkees just saw poor davy with tears down his face and wide frightened eyes and his thumb in his mouth trying to hold it all in #and just wanted to hold him #mike definitely swooped right in and got all protective #and davy was surprised at first that being held and rocked and talked to in a soft voice would make him feel so much better #but it did #and he kind of got to reprocess how he experienced emotions as a whole #and start from the ground up in a lot of ways like a kid would learn #and he got to do that with the help of his friends who definitely ask him how he’s feeling in simple terms a lot when he’s little #but he’s safe and happy now and that’s what matters to mike #it definitely makes mike feel secure too because he has someone to take care of and know that he can make everything alright for davy #so it really breaks mike’s heart when davy is crying because he just wants to set everything alright #davy again is often ‘childlike’ when he’s happy too. it’s not necessarily the same as his panic regression or is brought upon in the same wa #way #but he’s kind of just a little guy all around so all emotions come out with him all little. it just lets him feel safe and like he’s not to #not to blame for everything #because he probably had a lot of pressure to be perfect on him (see his grandfather) #but now he doesn’t have to be PERFECT he just has to be davy #and he’s still worthy of love and respect #okay i didn’t expect to put so much in the tags lol #thank you for the ask!!!

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #peeta mellark smut #hunger games #michael schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson angst #josh hutcherson fluff

[formosusiniquis]

There's something about the idea that every adult that spends more than ten minutes alone with Steve Harrington is instantly enamored with him 

The King Steve era house parties don't get broken up by the cops anymore. Steve is too far from his nearest neighbors for a noise complaint and the cops who would do it like Steve. They know they don't have to worry about any underage drinking and driving incidents after a Steve Harrington party because anyone who doesn't have a DD just crashes at the Harrington place, it's not like they have to worry about getting out of there before his parents get home.

His teachers can't help but let certain things slide. Excusing a middle school Steve's tardiness, the Harrington house is such a long bike ride away from the school and the bus route doesn't reach the grounds of Loch Nora. High School Steve's grades are average at best and his attention drifts, but his questions if poorly worded are insightful at heart and if you catch him away from the friends he tries too hard to keep he's polite and willing to spend time discussing his school work. By senior year they're excusing his tardiness again, they all know he has to swing by the middle school on his way over; and his forgetfulness too, two concussions in as many years it's a wonder he's not worse.

Joyce Byers, who by all accounts should hate this boy who fought her son and belittled her family, already has a snag in her armor thinking about a little boy who used to bike to Melvalds all alone for more milk and the sugar dusted cereal his mother didn't like him to have. Has her walls damaged by Jonathan coming home with a Christmas present they both know Nancy Wheeler even in her middle class glory couldn't afford. Has the adoption papers ready to be notarized when that same little boy, just a little bit bigger, offers to cart her Will around town since he knows she and Jon are busy and he has nothing better to do; really, and Will is the only one that ever says please or thank you.

Hopper, who largely left the everyday police work to the other officers, didn't interact with Steve much until the Upside Down business started. He's ready to add Harrington to the list of kids he'd die to protect the second the bloodstained boy cracks open a bleary eye from the Byers' sofa. Concussed and happy for it since it meant the youngest ones were safe.

Claudia Henderson has decided that the law has little to do with family. She's seen too many young men in the hospital grieving loved ones they can't see while parents who don't care make decisions for the dying. Steve Harrington is hers now has been since he did her Dusty's hair. The Sinclairs only let Erica roam the mall on her own on days they know Steve is working. They know no matter what Erica and Lucas promise the two of them aren't staying together. There's something rotten in Hawkins, and the kids don't whisper as quietly as they think they do. They know there's something they are missing, but they don't need to know everything to know they can trust the boy who put himself bodily in front of their child to protect him. Karen still occasionally mourns the loss of Steve as a son-in-law but the fact that he still drives Mike around even on his surliest days, she couldn't ask for more.

Wayne Munson lasted the longest. A product of night shifts and a powerful wariness around anyone whose tax bracket exceeds his by more than one jump. But he knows the kind of skittish that Steve is, remembers an eight year old boy with eyes he hadn't grown into who used to skitter away from a sharp tongue or raised hand just the same. Even then all it takes is sitting next to Steve on a rare night off, the game fuzzing in and out on the TV, listening to him softly explain the rules of it all to his boy relating it back to the ones of that dragon game Eddie likes so much and he's gone. Steve's a hard worker, a wage slave as much as Wayne these days, seems wrong to begrudge him just cause the house he's kept at is a little bigger than theirs. There are worse boys to have as future in-laws, even if he is a Cubs fan.

The only person who doesn't seem to get the memo is Richard Harrington. So rarely around his own son he isn't swept up in the charm. Richard and Stephanie Harrington make their way back to Hawkins, unannounced on a Tuesday. The sleepy morning hours are still lingering when they make their way into the house, through the foyer, and onto the kitchen; following the sounds of crooning oldies. Richard has long thought his son a disappointment, too lazy to get into college and too spoiled to leave home, catching him dancing around the kitchen like a fairy with some trailer trash punk is really the last straw. He lets the wife he wishes he didn't have make some asinine comment to this freak that's in his kitchen, and turns to the child he never wanted to say, "I want you out, I won't have a queer living under my roof."

Stephanie and that long haired bastard both rear back like they've been slapped. While Richard is forced to watch as the son he's neglected straightens up, every ounce the man every other adult on Hawkins has watched him become, look him in the eye and say, "It's not your house, it never was. Grandpa Otis left it to me. So if you've got a problem with me or my fucking boyfriend, you can get out of my house. Looks like you're already packed."

That empty house gets emptier as Richard, alone, takes the furniture he paid for and the clothes that lingered in the closet; but it's quickly filled with the hand-me-downs of everyone who has ever fallen for that Harrington charm. They're all too happy to help Steve fill what's his.

#steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington hc #wayne munson #joyce byers #chief hopper #jim hopper #steve harrington's parents #i find steves mom to be fascinating and i genuinely think she really loves her son #i think she saw her boy happy in the kitchen with eddie and immediately wanted to meet him #maybe made a comment about eddies hair like mother like son #i think theyre relationship is extremely complicated but i think push come shove her son will always beat her husband #i couldnt think of a good way to work the buckleys in here but they also think steve would be an excellent son in law

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.1 : With a Capital 'P'

Part 4.2 (Hey Dingus? Idk, the title for that one is up in the air.) will be up as soon as I have it somewhere I like (doing a different character's pov instead of Hop so it's giving me some trouble). Felt really bad that I hadn't updated in a while and this one was getting longer than I expected and I hadn't even gotten Robin really talking yet so... Happy Valentine's Day?

Part 1 (Hop Fucks Up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition), Part 3 (One of Us)

Family Video and the Arcade were two of the few businesses still operating after the inter-dimensional earthquakes that had tried tearing their town to pieces. Hop knew the kid who used to run the place for his uncle, Keith, had split town with his folks (said uncle in tow) leaving the store and arcade in the care of whatever employees had been willing to stay on payroll while the world fell apart.

He watches as Harrington's (more banged up than never remembers it being) car stops in front of the video store, parked parallel to the curb across at least 3 parking spots, as a wildly gesticulating Robin rolls herself out of the idling vehicle, jabbering loud enough that Hop can hear her voice from down the block. With most cars owned by the folks of Hawkins being commandeered by Owens' government goons to fill the gaps left by lost military vehicles it doesn't much matter but Hop can't help a bit of an eye roll at the kid's audacity.

But then again, he catches himself thinking, Steve was one of the only 'civilians' in-the-know and was well-known for carting around and protecting proven assets to the War Of The Worlds shitshow going on. So was there really an issue if the kid was one of the only cars on the road anyway and because he was even more read-in on the situation than even local law enforcement? If he was not only transporting and protecting people the government had a vested interest in but had proven himself more effective than even Hop and Joyce in wrangling the kids who had basically been saving the world for the last 4 years? If he kept them safe and out of harm's way in the thick of it but also kept them entertained and out from underfoot during the downtime?

Hell, the kid being one of the only employees left at some of the last businesses in town these brats would have any interest in almost guarantees the whole lot of them are continuously stocked in movies, snacks and quarters to distract them from even the most world shaking of calamities.

It hadn't occurred to him until just now what it meant for The Party that Steve and Robin seemed to be the only ones willing to hang around behind the counter at the arcade and sell and rent movies to shell-shocked townsfolk and tight-lipped government goons alike. Fuck, Lucas and Mike were right. He was an asshole.

He's pulled out of the slow spiral of realizing Mike Wheeler of all people had been right about something by Steve hollering one last "Love you, Bobby!" at a grinning and waving Buckley as she flung open the video store door and stumbled inside. He waits for the car and it's driver to round the corner before he gets out of his own government-issued station wagon. Fuck but he missed his truck.

"Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." He can tell she recognizes his voice (and it's a little impressive how quickly she clocks him since he's spoken only a couple words anywhere near her maybe twice in his memory. Girl has a good ear) from the way her entire body stills for a split second before whirling back into the hurricane of motion he's come to associate with her.

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She's still not looking at him, hands busy shuffling papers and flipping open VHS cases. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

Hop sighs, running a hand over the short growth he's slowly getting used to again. He'd almost shaved it down again but El had been so happy when she'd realized they were growing out at about the same rate. He couldn't ever say no to her.

"Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here, to fix it."

The flurry of movement doesn't stop but it's tighter, she's fiddling with something shoved up her shirt sleeve and tapping at the casing of a button connected to a wire leading into her green vest. Bright blue eyes are focused on him and he's almost reminded of the no-nonsense look Nancy Wheeler gets whenever they're faced with the world ending, but the girl in front of him is colder. He has no doubts that where Nancy Wheeler would tear down giants for what she believed is right, Robin Buckley would burn the world if it meant saving her people.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He didn't remember assigning a patrol schedule and he's not sure if this is Steve's own initiative or if he's been roped into something by Owens' people. "in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

The tag list below. Let me know if you want to be removed or if you go by a new/different tag you want on the list let me know which one I'm replacing and what I'm replacing it with please.

I've had some people ask to be tagged in this series who should already be in the list? If you see your name/tag but didn't get the notification that you were tagged please let me know so we can figure it out.

As always; like, comment and feel free to ask questions in the replies or my ask box.

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @iheartjennaaa @ellietheasexylibrarian

Tags that are not working on my end. Most of these Tumblr acts like they just don't exist and others I see accounts similar but 1 word, letter or number off. Please let me know if I put any of these down wrong!!

@anaibis @wormapothacary @lawrencebshoggoth @steveshairspray @samcoxramblings @rocochen20 @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu

#rambler writes #Never Took The Time (To Forget) #nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #codependent steve and robin #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin are soulmates and you can't convince me otherwise #not a Nancy hater just not really a Nancy appreciater #great character but in a #they're a flawed human who makes fucked up personal life choices while making decent/good save the world choices #ANYWHO #stranger things wip #stranger things fic

[multifariousqueer]

Miles cheating fic pt.2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s stalking cabròn”you said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miles pulled out the letter and smirked at you

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

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

You walked over to Thomas and he made a joke:

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Mia” she said shaking your hand

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

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

“oh no!” Mia spoke

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

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

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

“I don’t want any spiders to get in” 

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, y/n” he said

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

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

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

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

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

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

“careful, he might cheat on you” 

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?” he asked

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

“Ven aqui, mami” 

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

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

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

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

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

[leossmoonn]

Hey hope your having a good day/ night

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

Thank you, I hope you are too :D

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i like it, but …”

“you want me to try the others on?”

“yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you laugh, “oh, i hope not.”

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

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

“i know,” abby smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

could he get anymore perfect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[much-ado-about-whomst]

I saw a post abput drunk Ness and I couldn't resist. So @blue-sunflower-bee this one's for you.

Drunk Ness fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ness will swear up in down till the day he dies that he's not a light weight. He can hold his alcohol, thank you very much.

The thing is that's a complete lie. Mike's seen him get tipsy on a Mike's Hard Lemonade. A shot of anything gets him drunker than a skunk. It's not a big deal since he doesn't drink much anyways.

Which is why Mike was suprised to see his boyfriend stumble into their house late one night after going out with some coworkers. Ness comes in giggling at nothing, and wobbling so severely that Mike gets up off the couch to help lead the taller man safely to it.

"Hello Sugar!" Ness's voice is louder than normal.

"Hey Darlin', easy now." Mike cautions as Ness trips over his own foot. "I thought you, Chris, and Jason were going bowling."

"We did!" Crise Ness as he finally made it to the safty of the couch.

"Then why are you drunk?" Mike sat down next to his silly boyfriend.

"'m not drunk." Ness pouts as he snuggles up into the warmth of Mike. "Its Chris's brithday. We had some shots in between rounds of bowling." Mike snorts and shakes his head. Ness is mesmerized by the movement of his hair. He sits up as gracefully as a newborn giraffe and starts to play with Mike's hair.

"Mike. Mike. Mike. Do you want to hear a fun fact I learned at work today?" Mike tries and fails to surpress the smile that makes its way up to his face and camps there.

"What did you learn darlin'?" Ness does a little happy wiggle, excited that someone is willing to listen to his ramblings.

"I learned from Amy that you can cook food in the dryer! She told me that her cousin's best friend did it with stake and it totally worked! Isnt that so cool? Maybe we should try that." Ness babbles as he takes his hands through Mike's hair. He starts trying to braid it, bit its too small to really amount to anything. So he gives up and runs his figners through the hair, enjoying the texture, before trying to braid it again.

"Sorry Darlin', but we are not cooking food in the dryer. No matter what Amy's cousin's best friend says." Mike's hands hold on to Ness's hips to keep him from toppeling off the couch

"But Sugar, think of the learning opportunities for Abby." Ness's puppy dog eyes were at full force and aimed right at Mike's heart. Mike steals himself before continuing.

"You can't use that as an excuse every time you want to do something."

Ness yawns real big and then replies,"I can try."

Mike makes sure Ness is sexure before standing up.

"Lets get you to bed Darlin'." He says in a hushed tone as he picks up Ness in a bridal carry and starts making his way to their room.

#drunk ness is so cute #oh i cant even #dreamtheory #securitywaiter #mike x ness #ness the waiter #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf ficlet

[trashyswitch]

Dangerous? Or Friendly?

Mike is fearful of the animatronics. I mean, can you blame him? They're huge! But Abby appears to gain their trust really quickly. Who are these ghost kids hidden in the animatronics? And why do they want to play with him so badly?

Thus begins the first of many FNAF Movie fanfics. I had started this fanfic before watching the movie. Then, when I watched the movie, I went home and tweaked it before finishing off the rest of the story. Naturally, this fanfic is going to contain spoilers. But despite that, I hope you like it!

Mike stared at the huge bear animatronic that was walking closer to him. He had picked up a chair in an attempt to hit the bear animatronic…or at the very least, keep some space between them…He desperately didn’t want to die by the animatronics tonight. All he wanted was to finish this shift and get the heck out of there. 

“Mike!” He heard, running from the animatronics up to her brother. “They wouldn’t stop tickling me. I thought I was gonna die!” Abby explained. 

Mike was too busy staring at the orange-coloured eyes of the bear animatronic. It was not only huge, but the thing was growling at him suspiciously. He was too busy focusing on that, to realize Abby’s choice of words at first. 

“Freddy…this is my brother, Mike.” Abby told the bear. 

The bear looked Mike up and down, still suspicious of the adult in front of it. Mike didn’t know what to say…or even what to do. The only thing keeping him safe was the wooden chair in his hands. According to Abby, these huge machines weren’t really hurting her…well, not technically. They were tickling her, but not really causing any other harm to her. But he didn’t care if they were harmless right now…the animatronics were still hella terrifying…

Freddy’s eyebrows dropped their ferocious scowl and raised into a more ‘happy’ facial expression. Mike was a little taken aback by this. Was Freddy…not angry at him anymore? Then, the bunny animatronic started making its way up to Mike next. Still scared of the other animatronics, Mike quickly aimed the chair towards the bunny, making sure to keep some distance between them. “Stay there.” He warned. “Abby, get behind me.” he attempted to order.

Abby looked at her brother with worry. “They’re not gonna hurt you. You’re with me.” She told him. 

Mike was still unsure though. He'd rather risk losing their trust and keep the chair up, than lower the chair and let his guard down. As much as he trusted his sister…he was too scared to do anything that risked getting him killed. But…if he’s with Abby…and Abby gained the trust of the animatronics…then maybe…

“This is Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy and Chica.” Abby told him, pointing to every animatronic as she said the names.

He started to lower the chair. The chicken and the fox animatronics made their way closer to Mike as well, soon surrounding Mike in somewhat of a rough circle. Mike looked a little more nervous now…cause it seemed that no matter where he looked, an animatronic would be staring right at him. Though Freddy and Bonnie’s eyebrows had calmed down and showed its trust, the others hadn’t yet. They still looked as suspicious as ever.

But right as Mike felt like he finally had some control and comfort…he felt a single poke to his side. 

“-?!” Mike jumped, barely making a sound as he contorted his body to look at the animatronic that had poked him. “Who did that?!” He asked, staring at both the chicken and the fox. 

Abby giggled. “Chica did!” She told him. 

“W-which one? The…yellow one?” Mike asked. 

“Yup! Chica, as in chicken.” Abby replied. 

Though he would never admit it, Abby’s wordplay…was actually a good strategy to help him remember the name. 

“W-what…” Mike attempted to ask Chica as it got slightly closer. “What are you…” 

Another poke hit him right in the ribs, surprising Mike enough to let out something. “aAh-?!” His voice wobbled, a strained, tiny smile appearing on his face for only a moment. “No.” Mike warned the fox, who was staring at Mike and holding its index finger up in frozen shock. 

Abby smirked. “Uh oh~” she teased. 

“Abby, no.” Mike warned his sister. 

“It’s too late~” Abby teased evilly, letting out a giggle.

“Abby- GaAha-!” He jumped again, curling in a little bit and temporarily losing his footing. 

“Go for the ribs and armpits!” Abby declared. 

Mike looked over at Abby with panic and betrayal. “ABBY!” He reacted. 

“His feet are ticklish too! Hehehe!” Abby giggled. 

Mike shot Abby a fearful glare. “Shut it!” He ordered. Then he looked at the animatronics, which were all staring at Mike just inches away from him. “Sh-she’s lying!” He told them desperately, hoping and praying they don’t try anything. 

But this lie didn’t do anything…in fact, all it did was encourage Abby to run up and squeeze his sides! Mike gasped and hugged himself, curling up a bit and trying to keep his laughter in. “aAH- ST-Stop- stOP!” He ordered in desperation. Though they weren’t the most ticklish spot, they were still bad enough to render him somewhat helpless. 

“See?” Abby told the animatronics with a proud, shit-eating grin. 

The animatronics looked back and forth amongst each other, showing contentment in their robot faces. Mike didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle his sister, or run away. He loved his sister, but my god…the girl loved to test the waters and make him question it. And if this week wasn’t evidence enough of that…then I don’t know what was. 

On top of that, Mike could feel his knees beginning to buckle due to his sister’s tickles. He was curling into the sides and fighting every instinct to flee as he felt his legs weaken further and further. He knew he was going down slowly…but he was not going down without a vigorous fight. But his arms could only protect so much at once, especially when you’re trying to prove to the animatronics just how not ticklish he was. The truth was…Abby was right. He’s very ticklish, and wouldn’t be able to last much longer. 

The man wasn’t sure if he should continue to fight on, or just give up and laugh. 

…And then Abby pulled a brutal move on him…by squeezing his lower ribs. 

“aAAHA!” Mike dropped to his knees and hugged his ribs. “A-ABBYHYHY-!” Mike shouted, flopping onto his side and kicking his legs as Abby playfully dug further into his ribs. Mike had closed his eyes…which meant he couldn’t see the animatronics’ reactions and movements. Dammit, Abby! Why must she do this to him!? 

Mike’s panic only exacerbated the moment he felt a pair of large, metal, blue hands grab his waist and lift him up. Yes…I am not kidding. The animatronic lifted him up like a toddler, not even phased by the size and weight of this security guard. “AAH! NO! LET ME GO!” Mike shouted, now squirming and kicking his feet wildly. But to no one’s surprise, not even a body shift could compromise the animatronic’s undeniable strength. Whoever thought making scarily strong animatronics like this was a good idea…was unbelievably insane. 

“Wow! Bonnie’s really strong!” Abby reacted, somehow unphased by this huge feat. 

But Mike’s squirming halted for only a moment when he felt skitters and squeezes on his upper ribs. Mike gasped and started squirming for a completely different reason, as a wobbly, stupid little smile began to fill his lips. “Ohno- NONONO-!” Mike opened his eyes and screeched as he felt the fat skittering fingers of the bear animatronic, moving up and down his lower front ribs. Finally, Mike burst out in surprised laughter as he tried and failed to get out of their strong grip. “OHGOD NOHOHOHOhohooo! aaAAHAHAAA-!? NOHOHO! Thihis isn’t fahahairrr!” He laughed. 

Abby was giggling like mad, loving every second of this. “Hahaha! How’s it feel being tickled by robot tickle monsters?” Abby asked with a grin. 

“Thihihis ihis INSAHAHAHANE!” He hung his head and shook in Bonnie’s grasp. “C-Cohohome ohon-” He jumped and lost his composure yet again, when he felt the blue fingers going up his ribs slightly to the 4th or 5th rib. “NAHAHAHAhahahaha! W-WAHAIT- GAHAHAhahaha!” Mike yelled. 

Abby smiled brightly. “Go for the armpits! His armpits are bad too! They make him all squeaky!” Abby told Freddy. 

Mike groaned through his laughter. “Abs plehehease stohohohop!” He pleaded. “Yohohohou’re nohohot- NO!” Mike screeched and yelled as Bonnie scooted its hands slightly lower on his ribs, presumably so Freddy had more access to his underarms…

Why Abby keeps telling Freddy and the animatronics his ticklish secrets, he could not tell you. But man, he was tempted to tickle his sister to tears the moment he got free. 

“F-FREDDYWAIT-” Mike stared at the thick fingers that were subtly threatening to tickle his now-vulnerable armpits. When Freddy had placed the fingers mere millimeters away from his armpits, Mike knew he was doomed. But still…he tried one last attempt to ask for freedom. He gulped. “Uh….m-mercy?” He asked rather anxiously. 

Freddy’s ears wiggled slightly before the fingers finally touched down on his armpits. Just the touch down was ticklish enough! But when the fingers started MOVING?! HOLY CRAP, IT TICKLED LIKE MAD! Any amount of laughter that filled his lungs, came out in an uncharacteristic, high-pitched squeal. “aaaAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHO! NaAaAAH! NAHAHAHEHEHEHE!” Mike squeaked and squealed through his laughter. 

Abby just laughed as she watched. “Isn’t Mike’s laugh funny?” Abby asked. 

Freddy then stopped his tickle attack for a moment, to let the man breathe. Mike treated the break like a trophy, and happily took advantage. It was like he hadn’t taken a breath in years! The feeling of a simple breath made him overwhelmed with gratitude. He cleared his throat a little bit as he tried to pull himself together. 

Once Mike felt calm enough to properly think, he tried to get himself free from Bonnie’s grip. “Okay…You had your fun. Can you please let me go now?” Mike asked. 

Abby looked at the other animatronics and watched as they…almost conversed with each other. Mike watched them with both confusion, and fear in his eyes. He lowered himself slightly to talk to Abby. “What’s happening? What are they talking about?” Mike asked. 

She giggled. “They’re talking about what tickle spot to go for next.” She told him outright. 

Mike bit his lip. Oh no…Not good. 

Wait…How does she know?! Can she- Can she TALK TO THEM?! 

Mike widened his eyes and turned to Abby with fear visible in his eyes. “Can you tell them to stop?” Mike asked. 

Abby tilted her head. “Why? They just want to play.” She told him. 

“I…I don’t have time to play. I’m supposed to be working.” Mike told him. 

The animatronics stopped their ‘conversation’ and looked over at Mike and Abby. Mike tensed up slightly as he stared at the animatronic bear’s eyes again. Something about those eyes looked dead inside, yet…their eyes glowed in a human-kind of way that made a shiver move up his spine. It was nerve-wracking, and he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much.  

But Freddy looked over at Chica, and…started waving for Chica to come over. Mike widened his eyes and started squirming all over again. No no no, that chicken thing had better not be getting closer to him. Abby had gasped and covered her mouth, letting out an excited squeal. Oh no! What in the world were they planning that was so exciting to her?! 

“Abby?! What are they planning?!” Mike asked. 

Abby looked at Mike, and giggled menacingly. For the love of-WHY WON’T SHE TELL HIM?!

Mike looked at the chicken animatronic and prepared himself. “Chick-Chica NO.” Mike lifted his right foot up and started pushing against Chica’s middle chest. “Stay back. I’m warning you.” He ordered before pushing with his other foot as well, in an attempt to get the animatronic away from him. 

But to both Mike AND Abby’s surprise, Chica grabbed his ankles, and gave him a bit of a tug. And to Mike’s horror, Bonnie let go of him and let him fly upside down! “WhooOOHNO-” 

Abby gasped and held her stomach as she bursted out laughing. 

Mike felt his bangs fall above his head as he struggled to come to terms with being upside down. Great…Looks like the animatronics were just toying with him at this point. 

“Abs, please…” Mike said, looking at her upside down. “What are they doing?” He asked, confused and worried. But his attention switched over to the fiddling and adjusting he felt against his shoe. “What-” Mike muttered as he curled himself up, attempting to see how his feet were being toyed with. “Hey! Stop that!” He ordered. 

But Mike widened his eyes in horror the second he felt his shoe being slipped off his foot. SHIT! 

“OHNO-?!” Mike started to panic as he heard the shoe fall to the ground. “Abby help!” Mike yelled as he pulled on his ankles and struggled to get himself right side up. “ABBY!” Mike held his arms out desperately. 

Abby only giggled. “You are all gonna love this! His feet are so ticklish!” Abby told them excitedly. 

Mike groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Abbyyyy…” Mike groaned. 

“And don’t forget his piggies!” Abby teased. 

“Abby-” Mike was growing somewhat impatient with his sister by this point. 

“Though be careful with his toes. He might die if he’s tickled too much there.” She warned. 

Heh…‘Be careful’...Hearing that was funny enough in its own right. At least she has the right of mind to tell them to at least be careful…

His breath hitched the moment he felt a fat finger on the arch of his socked left foot. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hands. NO. They are NOT getting away with tickling him again. Nuh uh, no way. They can fight with him all they want to, but they will NEVER get a laugh out of him! Not now, not ever again. 

Or so he thought…

Only one little flutter…right under his toes…was enough to make every bit of laughter burst out of him. The poor man threw his arms against his chest and leaned his head back slightly as every laugh he had bunched up in his lungs, had finally let themselves free. “GAHAHAHAHAhahahaha! Ohohokahay, okahahahayyyyy!” Mike yelled. 

“YAY!” Abby declared, laughing alongside him. 

Mike put his hands in praying position. “Yohohou got mehehehee! P-Plehehehease stohohop! Ihihihi’m lahahaughihihing ehenohohough!” He pleaded. 

“Okay, let’s stop.” Abby told Chica. 

Chica moved its fingers away, and looked at Abby for her next instruction. 

Abby waited a few seconds, while listening to his brother breathe somewhat heavily from exhaustion. “You okay?” Abby asked. 

Mike huffed and puffed a few more times. “Ihihi…Ihi’m okay…I’m good.” 

“Do you need a break?” Abby asked. 

“Thahat…would be nihice.” Mike admitted. 

“Okay.” Abby replied. “How about…in a few more minutes?” Abby asked, looking at the animatronics. Mike nodded his head. A break sounded amazing right about now. Especially if…wait, did she say ‘in a few minutes’? 

“Okay go!” Abby suddenly told Chica. 

Mike’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Wait WHA-” 

Mike shrieked as the fat fingers started tickling him all over again. He couldn’t even hold in his laughter this time, instead just letting it fall out of him. “BAAAHAHAHAhahAHAhahaha!” Mike cackled, shocked by the sudden tickles against the ball of his foot. When he finished his fit, Mike took in a breath and squealed in a rather high-pitched voice before falling into another fit of cackles. “Plehehehehehease! HAHahahaha! Ihihit’s toohoohoohoo ticklihihish!” He told Abby. 

“So ticklish you can’t remember your right from left?” 

“HEHEhehehehe- Yehehehehesss!” He replied. 

Abby walked closer to Mike and started poking and tickling his sides. “How about now?” 

Mike jumped and grunted, grasping at his sister’s hands, laughing slightly harder. This is the most Abby has touched him, let alone tickled him, in quite a long time. And though he was technically in a very vulnerable position right now, there were much worse scenarios to be stuck in. 

“Alright. Let’s stop for real this time.” Abby told Chica. 

Chica stopped its fingers. 

“Can you flip him the right way, Chica?” Abby asked. 

Chica lowered its body down and placed its hands under Mike to help pick him up. “ooOKAY…” Mike felt as Chica grabbed under his arms and nodded to Bonnie. With that nod, Bonnie let go of Mike’s feet and let them drop. “Okay- OW.” He yelped as his foot inevitably hit Bonnie’s leg. “Ohokay.” He muttered. Chica lowered Mike down till his feet were touching the ground. “Thank you…” He huffed and attempted to pull himself together. “Not…sure how I feel about you being able to lift me so easily…” Mike admitted. Chica removed his fingers, accidentally tickling his armpit one more time. This made Mike jump snicker one last time. 

Abby shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Abby asked. 

Mike turned to his sister…and slowly gave her a devious smile. “Get over here, you ticklish tattle-tale!” He declared, picking her up and skittering his fingers all over her ribs and belly. “Tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tickle~!” He teased, using toddler-like teases so he could further torment her. 

“MIHIHIKE- HAHAhahahaha! NAHAHA- SOHOHORRYYYY!” She shouted. 

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Abs.” He teased. “You understood exactly what they were doing, and didn’t bother to tell me all of it.” He moved his fingers to her belly button, earning him a high-pitched squeal. “AND you couldn’t keep your mouth shut about how ticklish I am!” He added. “You’re a little menace who deserves to laugh just as much as I did.” He told her. 

“NAAAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT MY BEHEHELLY BUTTOHOHOHON!” She pleaded. 

“What belly button?” He asked innocently. “I didn’t know you had a belly button! Let me see!” Mike picked her up bridal style and blew a raspberry onto her belly button. 

Abby squealed and screamed with laughter as the raspberry filled her belly, before stopping. He lowered her sister down, and continued to hold her bridal style. Abby was still a bit of a giggly mess despite not being tickled for nearly as long. He put her down onto her feet. “There. Should we make it a tie?” He asked, holding his hand up. 

Abby nodded her head and gave him a high five. With that set in motion, Mike started to collect his stuff and take Abby out to the car. Funnily enough, the animatronics had tickled him up until his shift had ended. 

And by the time Mike had pulled into the driveway, Abby was sound asleep against the car door with a mauve blanket being used as a pillow. 

#possessed animatronics #meeting the classic animatronics #protective mike schmidt #abby schmidt is a menace #ticklefic #ler!animatronics #switch!mike #switch!abby #they just want to play #fnaf movie spoilers

[bylrlve]

Warning! Potential spoilers for Stranger Things 5!

To recap, Alex received this dm on 13/2/23, seemingly confirming mileven breakup

She received this message on that day, which states that mileven are still together and happy. However it’s also instantly debunkable bc they’re absolutely not going to do the Hopper-Mike feud bs again. That is beyond clear.

On this past Tuesday, 20/2/23, she received a second message outright stating Mileven breakup.

Finally, on Wednesday, 21/2/23, she received this message full of pretty plausible statements, with mileven breakup included as fact. Interesting.

This person claims it’s all fake, with no rationale or alt info - what, is Will not important now?

Worth noting: Millie is currently doing promo for Damsels, so she’ll be out of commission re: filming for a few weeks. Early March is probably when she’ll come back, but Finn will be be busy with his Ghosbusters 2 promo.

Two conclusions:

1.) there will be no mileven scenes filmed for a few weeks. Filming schedules are very tightly planned to accommodate other actor commitments, so it doesn’t seem like this posed a massive issue. Hm.

2,) Millie will likely be doing any scenes she has with Sadie and Caleb, aka Max and Lucas, when she gets back. As this message says.

This person is probably just smart and well-informed enough to figure this out, but it’s interesting.

There has been some very intriguing activity on a stranger things set a few days ago - red UD ligthing, castle Byers.., and Will Byers. Will’s plotline for season 5 seriously looks like everything us Will stans have been dreaming of in terms of plot relevance, emotional catharsis, etc. This pic dropped yesterday, and the spoiler acc seems to have confirmed it’s Will:

Lastly,this also dropped today:

(Credit to @1987byler on twt)

Very strange framework, here. If the goal is to set up Will being rejected gently by Mike, but understood and accepted, why not focus on that? Why not have Vecna say ‘you’re afraid he’ll be disgusted by you. You’re afraid he’ll see you as the disgusting, broken boy you are’ or something like that? Elsewhere in the game, it’s being reported by players that Will is being taunted about how his friends are all ignoring him, and how Max fits into the group better than he does. This is canonically a sore spot for him - not so much the Max part, but the general point. So why not emphasise his fear of Mike’s rejection, rather than his hurt at Mike picking El over him?

Maybe because, if this is carried into s5 and we get scenes of Vecna taunting Will about Mike choosing El, it’ll be certain that Mike will indeed pick Will. Maybe this is a means of hinting that?

(Side note: at this point in the time line, El was really just a concept to Will. The one time he met her, it was for barely a minute as a delirious, dying child. By s4, it’s very clear that they’re close and loving. I’ll hear no critique of him for apparently not wanting her to come back - it’s very obviously Vecna twisting things, as he did with Max in s4 to make it seem like she actively wanted to murder Billy.)

Also worth noting: the best Mike can say about the girl he supposedly loved at first sight, after a whole week with her, is that she’s ‘cool’, ‘different’, ‘awesome’. Very lacklustre. Compare to how Lucas would describe the comatose max to a newcomer in s4.

Finally: Will quite literally utilises a never-seen memory of Mike and him in Castle Byers as his happy menory, his safe place. You know,like the Snow Ball and those other memories of good times with Lucas that Max clung to in s4?

Credit to @will80sbyers

This post by @nebulousfishgills reports Vecna saying that Will is ‘the key’, manipulating Will’s memories, and directly saying “You’ll finally matter to someone, Will.” Byler kind of has to be endgame, right? For this to make any sense as a narrative? ‘We can still be friends’ won’t cut it, not if, as the messages Alex is getting make out, Will is still so achingly in love post-time jump that he’s staying by Mike’s hospital bed after everyone else leaves and kissing his forehead (a). Not if they’re still emphasising that Mike is his safe place, his home, his light, in (technically) pre-season five promotional material.

All of this is… interesting, to say the least.

I’ll leave off by sharing the posts made by the wonderful @solgmorell on the set leak (x) and the VR byler stuff (x, y).

(a)

ETA: two of the previous dms Alex has gotten state that Will struggles with his friendships with the other party member this season due to being closeted. This game touches heavily on Will’s feeling disconnected from his friends, at least partly bc of his sexuality…. One is above, the other is here:

#byler #mike wheeler #el and mike #stranger things season 5 leaks #st5 leaks #look away if you want to stay a spoiler Virgin #will byers #is slaying #noah schnapp

[maximoff-pan]

I know this is random but I was reading your why do fools preview of your steve fic (which I love and can't wait for more of), and I was wondering if you could write a blurb about will byers coming out to the reader? I feel like with her being so close to jonathan and the byers family, it would be such a pivotal moment 💕

oh my goodness this idea warms my heart, of course I can — I also would love more requests in this universe before I post the next part (if anyone has some

pairing: will byers x fem!(platonic)reader

set in the why do fools universe (read here) — eventually steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 600+

“I think I like Mike.”

The implication is clear; right as the words pass quietly through his lips, you understand what he means. But almost like he thinks there’s no way you could possibly get it, he feels the urge to clarify. Because in his mind, why would you ever understand? “More than–” he struggles with it. This is much harder than he thought it would be.

Except as he glances towards you, your eyes locking steadily, he knows he doesn’t need to say any more. 

“More than a friend.” You finish delicately. And there’s no judgement in your tone, only love.

Will nods. This has to be one of the scariest things he’s ever done: admitting how he really feels. “I’ve never…” he trails, trying to form the right words, “you’re the only one I’ve told.” 

And you can’t quite describe it, the warmth that spreads through your chest. It’s almost surreal, thinking about how much he must trust you…enough to be the first person he feels he can talk about this with. Initially, it catches you by surprise. What could you have possibly done to deserve this kind of trust? But in your heart, you know why.

The love you hold for Will Byers is unconditional; he’s the little brother you never had. The little brother you didn’t ask for, but who fell into your life and changed it for the better. Of course, with that came Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, (and later El and Max), as well as an interesting friendship with the one and only Steve Harrington, but you suppose, everything had worked out for the best. 

“C’mere.” You gesture to him, arms outstretched and a soft smile gracing your features. “You know I love you right? No matter what?”

You can feel him nearly collapse into you, feeling as he releases a breath of relief. He’s crying, his tears a combination of fear and happiness. They wrack through him in intense waves, and yet paradoxically, his demeanor remains as delicate and fragile as you remember it being. Ethereal. 

It brings you peace knowing that he feels safe with you. Because as much as you adore each of the kids equally, (and while you hate to admit it), Will has always been the one you gravitated towards. Something about his timid nature drew you in. From the moment your friend Jonathan introduced you to his little brother, you knew how special he was. With his gentle brown gaze and shaggy bowl cut, he exuded pure innocence. 

The first thing you remember about him was how reserved he seemed. Minimal words were spoken in those early months. Until he started to open up. Regardless, he was always a bit of a scared kid, a kid who didn’t have a fair shot right from the jump.

Maybe you just got that. And unlike others in his life, you refused to give up on him, or Jonathan.

“Oh Will.” He’s clinging on to you now, grip tight as he shakes like a leaf. “I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

He breathes heavily, beginning to apologize profusely. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I was just so scared.”

“Never be sorry for your emotions.” 

He pulls back from you, calmer now, allowing you to get a good look at him.

"Never apologize for being who you are." You tell him. "Not to me, not to your brother — not to anyone. You hear me?"

Your tone is delicate, but Will knows just how serious you are. He nods, unable to find the words to thank you, unable to describe the feeling of warmth that has spread through his entire body.

You are a safe haven. You always have been. You always will be.

Will knows what it's like to feel accepted by you, to be loved by you. And he never wants that to change.

"Thank you." He clings to you still.

It's silent and left unsaid, but in your mind you think, always.

I will always be here for you.

#will byers x platonic!reader #will byers x reader #will byers imagine #will byers #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #steve harrington x reader

[sunflowersteves]

he'd never tell anyone but you but eddie cries in his van in the mornings before school after the two of you break up

author's note || this!!! request!!!! has me crying but also i love you for it, anon. i do.

warnings || breakups, crying, sad!eddie, upsidedown, unhappy ending (but potential part two happy ending??)

masterlist

Five months. 

One-hundred fifty-two days.

Three-thousand six-hundred forty-eight hours.

Eddie wasn't sure, most of the time, what day it was. He never knew if the moon was puncturing the night sky with its dewy gloom or if the sun shined bright beneath the ashen clouds. He never knew what class he was in, whether it was science, english, or history.

But he knew how many months, days, and hours that you were no longer by his side.

Well, let's rephrase that. He knew how many months, days, and hours since he broke your heart into a thousand different pieces.

His too, though. As he watched your tear-stained face crumble, your hands shake, and your voice crack. His heart, too, broke into a thousand different pieces. He didn’t know why he did what he did—why he pushed you away. 

But it seemed so easy—so effortless—in the way of trying to make sure that you’re safe. After Chrissy’s death, Max’s almost death, and the events of the Upside Down, he knew life was going to be hell. He knew that with all of those chains of events, it would only be the beginning. 

So, in a way, he did know why he pushed you away. It pained him every second of every ticking minute that he did what he did.

And yet, now that the long, hellish months of his trials were over, everything was starting to be placed back to where they’re supposed to be—everything except you.

Today was May 12th, 1986. His year. His month. His last and final week at Hawkin’s High. It was really supposed to be like any other week like the rest of them.

He would get up. He’d smell like booze and weed. He would shower said booze and weed off of him. He’d get dressed. He would stare at the moldy blueberry muffin you had baked for him one long lost Sunday morning. He would drive to school. He’d go to class. He’d drive home. He would drink and get high. And at the end, he went to bed.

The never-ending cycle was bound to continuously spin in circles for what felt like an eternity. The same day over and over, again and again. The same routine started all over again on May 12th, 1986. 

He got up. He showered all the booze and weed off. He stared at the sad blueberry muffin. He drove to school. But as he parked his van in the school parking lot, he immediately regretted looking up in front of him. 

There you were. You. The person he’d been dreaming of stumbling across for the past five months.

You were dropping off Mike and Lucas, waving goodbye to them as they opened the car door. His eyes watched as your lips curled into a smile, the wounds that deepened his heart only cut further. The little crinkle next to your eyes as you smiled, and your pearly whites on full display. His heart sunk as you looked happy.

Eddie couldn’t help but freeze as you screamed Mike’s name. Even the sound of your voice—something he hadn’t heard in months—sent chills down his spine. Mike ran back to your car, giving you a quick thanks at you for giving him the book he forgot. 

Eddie sniffled. It was the first time he realized that tears had fallen against his cheeks. He looked down to see small wet patches on his jeans. He put a hand over his mouth, slowly sliding down his jaw as a sob racked through his body. 

He didn’t expect to see you today or any day for that matter. He wasn’t ready to see your perfect lips. He wasn’t ready to see the way your eyes shone beneath the sun. He wasn’t ready to see you in the parking lot at Hawkins High. 

He wasn’t ready.

He couldn’t help but let out a small, frustrated scream, trying to yell into the dark void that seemed to only let him sink further. But then he saw you walking toward him. Fuck, you were really walking towards him. 

His eyes widened, heart rate increasing with each step you took. He tried his hardest to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he knew everything would still be visible—the redness, the dried tears, the stuffy nose.

He watched, swallowing thickly, as you tapped the van window. He bent down, cranking down the window. “Hey.”

He almost choked at the sound of your voice, his heart pounding loud in his ears. “Um, hey.” 

He couldn’t look into your eyes, and all he could do was stare at your wrist. He knew he was avoiding the inevitable as much as possible. 

“How are you?” If Eddie wasn’t so focused on suppressing his current emotions, then he would’ve caught the strain in your voice. 

He swallowed, “I’m—uh—good. How a-are you?” He cringed on the inside, knowing that he sounded like such bullshit. However, you either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to comment on it.

“I’m—um—doing good. Jus’ had to drop the kids off today, ya know?” 

He nodded, trying his best to form a small smile. He could tell that it was probably the most unconvincing smile he could ever muster. And then he saw the look on your face. He could see the small sliver of hope that rested between your irises. He could see the way your feet shuffled, and your hands fiddled with the end of your shirt in nervousness. 

But then everything comes crashing down into the pits of reality. He broke your heart. He didn’t want you anymore. He didn’t love you anymore. 

All he could do was watch as the scene unfolded before him. He watched as you started to close yourself in—the walls that he had managed to crumble down at one point in time were building their way back up. One brick at a time. 

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

Eddie didn’t respond as he watched you walk away. He just stares intensely at your back. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smashing his hands on the steering wheel. He felt himself slipping—stumbling into the everlasting darkness of a life without you. 

Today marks four months and a day of Eddie’s worst demise. One-hundred fifty-three days without your smile. Three-thousand six-hundred seventy-two hours without you. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things angst #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 2

[strangeswift]

Will had assumed —reasonably so, he thought— that a year into the actual apocalypse, birthdays wouldn't be a very big deal. Maybe a passing acknowledgement, if that. Really, it felt a little selfish to expect anything at all. 

Like, People are dead, and your friend is still in a coma. She might not wake up. Congratulations on being alive, asshole. 

Though admittedly, for Will specifically, being alive was sort of an accomplishment in itself at this point, given everything. And Will was happy to be alive. Most of the time, at least. 

He just didn't expect anyone to throw a party about it. 

It wasn’t until Will groggily descended the Wheeler's stairs and spotted the notebook paper sign strung up in the kitchen, Happy Birthday Will, distinctly in Mike’s handwriting, that Will realized they were indeed doing the birthday thing. It still felt weird, but he couldn’t help the embarrassed smile that spread across his face as everyone in the kitchen sang Happy Birthday to him. Nor could he help the hammering in his chest when Mike made his way over to him and slung his arm across his shoulders midway through the song.

All in all, the day was fairly uneventful after that. They let him have the last can of SpaghettiOs for lunch while everyone else had watery vegetable soup, which was nice. 

He didn't have to go on the supply run they had planned for the day. Actually, he would rather have gone, especially since Mike went, but Mike was oddly insistent that Will stay behind, so he did. It wasn't until after Mike returned that Will found out why he had to stay behind. 

"Can you just trust me?” Mike asked.

“I do trust you,” Will said, “It’s just that letting the clumsiest person I know lead me down stairs blindfolded is a little nerve-racking.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall. Jesus,” Mike said, exasperated, as he slowly led Will down the basement stairs, “Just three more steps.”

Once they reached the bottom, Will asked, “Can I take this off now?” gesturing to the bandana that was tied over his eyes.

Mike answered by taking it off for him, and Will blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Mike looked incredibly pleased with himself, and Will soon saw why.

On the coffee table, set out on a plate, were two perfectly square brownies with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles on top. A lit candle was sticking out of one of them.

"Where did you get these?" Will asked in disbelief. None of them had tasted anything sweet in months. "I know damn well you didn’t get this shit at the grocery store. Or Melvald's."

Mike grinned sheepishly. "Don't worry about it."

Will frowned "You– Where did you go for this?"

“Doesn’t matter,” Mike said, “just blow out your candle!”

“Mike,” Will said, crossing his arms.

Mike sighed, "You're relentless, you know that?"

Will looked at him expectantly. 

"The gas station on the other side of town, but it’s not a big–"

"Mike!" Will scolded, "What the hell is wrong with you? You went all the way across town? That is so not safe!"

Mike shrugged. "I didn’t go alone. I had Nancy and her big ass gun to keep me company,” he said, “Besides, it was for a good cause?” he tried.

“You’re an idiot,” Will said, grinning in spite of himself.

Mike grabbed his hand, and Will tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as Mike led him to sit on the couch in front of the coffee table.

Once they were sitting, Mike dropped his hand, but he stayed close. He knocked their knees together. “Go on. Make a wish,” he said quietly.

Will shook his head, searching Mike’s eyes. “I don’t have one,” he said.

Mike cocked his head. “There’s nothing you want?” he asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

Oh. Well, Will could think of one thing.

“I mean, maybe,” Will said, averting his eyes, “It’s stupid, though.”

“If it’s what you want, it’s not stupid,” Mike said firmly.

“Well, it’s embarrassing,” Will amended, flicking his eyes back to Mike, who leaned in, ever so slightly.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Mike said, “But you don’t have to tell me, anyway. Actually, you can’t tell me. If you do then it won’t come true.”

Will huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

"Fine," Mike said, "blow out your candle, make your secret wish."

Will laughed and leaned forward, blowing carefully on the candle and watching the small flame flicker and fade into a wisp of smoke.

"Think it'll come true?" Mike asked.

"I don't– I mean, probably not," Will said, "I'm still not telling you, though."

“Really?” Mike asked, pouting. “Can I guess? I think if I guess it, the wish is still valid.”

“I think you’re just making up wish rules now,” Will teased.

“Maybe,” Mike conceded. “Can I guess anyway?” he asked, leaning even closer – and god, he had no idea what he was doing to Will, did he?

Will raised his eyebrows. “You have guesses?”

“I have one,” Mike said.

It was a bad idea, Will thought, to let Mike guess. A very bad idea.

“Please, share,” Will said.

"Okay..." Mike said nervously, "Yeah, okay." His cheeks went a little pink, and he flicked his gaze down to Will’s lips. Or– No, that was probably… Wishful thinking. 

“God, I hope I’m right about this,” Mike breathed, and he leaned in even closer, so close their noses were almost touching. Will watched with wide eyes as Mike brought shaky hands up to cup his jaw.

Mike let out a breath, and Will could feel it on his lips. 

Mike closed his eyes, pressed forward, and kissed him.

Kissing Mike was nothing like Will expected it to be. It was soft and slow, and Will wanted to melt into it. He wanted to stay in the moment forever. If Vecna did come for him, that was the happy thought he would run to. He wouldn't even need music, just the memory of Mike's lips against his – that would be enough. 

Mike pulled back, and Will resisted the urge to chase him.

"Did I guess right?" Mike asked breathlessly, letting his hands slide down to rest gently on the sides of Will's neck.

"What?" Will asked, dazed. 

"Your wish," Mike said.

"Oh," Will said. "Yeah. That was– Yeah."

Mike beamed. "Cool," he said.

"Cool," Will repeated, a smirk playing at his lips.

Mike leaned back. "Now eat your birthday cake," he instructed. 

Will picked up one of the brownies. "These are gas station brownies," he pointed out.

"Birthday cake," Mike insisted. 

Will took a bite. It was heavenly. 

"Oh my god," he groaned, "I've missed sugar."

Mike picked up the other brownie, taking a bite. "Oh. Wow, yeah. Holy shit," he said, taking another bite. 

"It's so good," Will said, laughing giddily. He popped the last bite in his mouth.

Mike smiled warmly. "Happy birthday, Will."

"Thanks," Will said, "but if you ever risk your life for brownies again–"

"Oh come on," Mike said, "Cut me some slack. I was romancing you."

Will's eyes went wide. "You– What?" he squeaked. 

Mike flushed. "I mean– Whatever."

Will burst out laughing, and Mike couldn't help but join him. Somehow, Will felt years worth of tension dissolving as he laughed so hard tears began to form.

After a couple of minutes, they settled into comfortable silence, grinning at each other. "I want to kiss you again," Mike announced.

"Well, if that’s what you want," Will said, leaning in.

And for a little while, nothing else mattered. Just Mike, who was warm and tasted like chocolate, who was romancing him with stolen brownies and kissing him like he needed it.

It was a good birthday. 

#ok so. this does not fit the byler week prompt bc it is not birthdaygate or any gate #but this is what i wanted to write so here it is ! #i also just ignored the whole birthdaygate thing so. in this universe mike did Not forget will's birthday last year #bc i didn't feel like getting into that #anyway. apocalyptic birthday fluff!! #getting together!! yay!! #byler #abby writes

[elekinetic]

lucas is ten years old, and he has made a mortal enemy. there is an owl living in the tree just outside his bedroom window and he freaking hates it, okay? it’s so loud and annoying and smug and it won’t stop “hoooing” all night long — or however you spell it. whatever. and look, lucas has never been one for violence, but there is a reason he asked his parents for a wrist rocket last christmas, and no, he hasn’t hit the stupid bird yet but one of these days he’s gonna get it, and he’s gonna take the fucker down, right between it’s freaky yellow eyes, and he’ll finally get a good night’s sleep. just you wait.

lucas is twelve years old, and he’s wide awake. and yeah, the owl is still freaking hooting even though he DEFINITELY hit its foot like, four weeks ago. but that’s not why he’s up. will’s missing, and mike’s mad at him, and that weird bald girl is messing everything up and…well. lucas isn’t crying, okay? lucas is fine, and if you tell erica anything otherwise he’s gonna hit you with his wrist rocket which is a serious threat because he’s gotten so much better. even if the owl hasn’t left yet. even if he asked his parents to call animal control because it’s been three years, you guys and it’s still yelling into his bedroom window. HOOT, HOOT, even right now. it’s fine. he’ll get it eventually, he just needs a plan. he’ll come up for a plan to get rid of the owl, just like he’ll come up with a plan to save will. if mike and dustin won’t help him, he’ll do it himself.

lucas is fourteen years old, and oh my god, he GOT IT. HE FINALLY FREAKING GOT IT. it took him half a decade, but he borrowed a teammate’s BB gun and managed to knock down its nest. and lucas doesn’t get why that was what got it to leave because it’s the most stubborn motherfucker he’s ever met, and he’s friends with dustin, but maybe it’s some kind of animal thing where you leave when your house gets wrecked and you’re too scared to build a new one. honestly, lucas doesn’t give a shit. the bird is gone, and that’s what matters. five freaking years of obnoxious hooting at 2am, over! peace at last! SILENCE at last! he wants to get up and jump on the bed, but maybe that’s immature of him. maybe he’s too excited about this. maybe he was right to tell his teammate it was to show off for a girl (which, he would’ve, gladly, if she’d come over or return any of his calls). maybe… maybe… maybe lucas should go to bed.

lucas is sixteen years old, and his bedroom is quiet. max is alive—thank god—and okay and healing and kind of happy, and vecna is dead and his friends and his family are safe and….god. they won. they won months ago, and it’s almost been a year, but lucas still has a hard time believing it. (his bedroom is quiet.) they tried so hard for so long and came so close to losing, and lucas hasn’t quite shaken that constant paranoia. “stay alert, stay alive,” is what they’d say when they went on patrols. (quiet.) he held max’s hand today and it was warm and she smiled at him, and it almost made him forget how cold her hands used to be. he remembers the hospital. he remembers the first days, when max had bloody bandages around her eyes. (quiet.) when she didn’t have the bandages, when it was just blood. he remembers holding her when she said she didn’t want to die (quiet.) and he said she wouldn’t and she needed to hold on cause the paramedics were almost there (quiet.) he remembers her dying and yeah she came back but she died. she died she died she died, and lucas’ room is so fucking quiet.

it’s ridiculous, really. the world ended, and they all lived. this is happily ever after. they saved the day.

he misses the stupid owl.

#having lumax thoughts #lucas postín tonight babey #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #lumax #stranger things #stranger things (ella's version)

[homocrafting]

hi :) lil thing I wrote abt richarlyson set in a scenario in which the islanders disappear :))

----

Richarlyson's dads taught him a lot of things, when he was younger, however questionable.

He loved them, and they loved him. He knows this; it's stayed true through all his life. It was the only real, graspable truth, when he laid in bed in what they swore to him wasn't a captivity, despite the lack of windows or the low ceilling and the locked door he didn't know the password of.

It was what stayed true, when he had a nightmare and none of them were there to help, either busy having disappeared (as all dads do, naturally) or doing something far from his room.

It still stays true, to this day. He knows that. It has to.

Papai Felps told him to believe everything his dad Cellbit said, and he had said they love him, so it must be true.

He shifts in bed, rolling to the side. His tail occupies the rest of his bed, that way, and he can see the lights of the nearest neighbor's house through the window.

He pretends he can see one of his dads howling to the moon, beastly form taking over as he looks, mesmerized and scared. When his other dads get him home, where it's safe (but never safe enough, all his dads had said, at different times, in their own ways. He never stopped sleeping with the gun next to his pillow and a sword under his bed.), Richarlyson had asked if he'd be able to do that too someday. Papai Felps said he hoped not, with an anxious chuckle- daddy Pac said he probably could, if he tried enough, and if not they'd find a way. Richarlyson hugged him, then, and the memory of that warm, loving embrace almost lulls him to sleep.

Tallulah's flute cuts through the night, a sad melody he knows too well by now, nothing like papi Forever's howling. He turns in his bed again, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The closest hand wraps around the hilt of his gun (Bobby gave it to him, the second time they met, when Richarlyson knew himself better and so did his dads. He doesn't plan on letting go of it) instinctively, its presence soothing.

He remembers when he first successfully killed a monster with it, and his dad cheered and hugged him like it was the greatest thing he'd ever witnessed- and to him, at that moment, that was all that mattered.

Pai Mike taught him how to shoot upward- bala perdida, aimed at nothing in particular. He began shooting at the sky when he was happy, and sometimes it'd startle one of his dads, but he never hit anyone besides the Christ. He never meant to hit anyone, except for monsters and the vast sky.

At some point he began pretending he did want to hurt people with it, because papai Cellbit told him he had to keep up appearances, pretend he's mean and superior so no one would pick on him. Make them scared. But also that it was ok to be soft and find things cute too, in private, or with his dads. Never hide anything from his dads, because they love him, and they'd never judge him.

There's no one here to tell him that now.

Tallulah's tune comes to a stop, as all things do. He finds he doesn't like the silence, as he finds many other nights.

He misses his fathers' snores and his papi's howls and his dad's mutterings of murder in the night.

Richas gets up with a yawn, grabs his gun, drags himself to the window and shoots upwards through it, twice. He half expects to get a message from Bobby, something like a singular middle finger emoji.

No sounds come from the phone.

He plops back on the double bed where once many of his fathers (and sometimes him, when he was too scared to sleep alone in his too dark not-captivity and didn't think papi's decorations would be enough to keep the creeping feeling of something watching him away) slept, not bothering to tuck himself in, this time. The egg- not egg, a dragon, who's hatched and who's a teen and who doesn't need his dads anymore- simply lays there, arms spread over the empty bed, staring once more at the ceiling.

Sometimes, Richarlyson feels he's being watched. Tonight is one of those times.

He can't tell if it's a result of his own dads' paranoia or his own, or if something really is watching him. They did warn him about Them.

He thinks of how easy it would be to shoot Them, how easily papi Forever would tear Them apart, how his dad Cellbit would maim Them, if They touched him, despite all his fear of Them.

They're not here (they haven't been for a while), but Richas has the gun Bobby gave him and a sword one of his fathers gave him, which must be enough to kill whatever crosses his path.

They'd be proud of him, if they were here to see him.

He curls his tail around his body, pulling his legs up until his knees reach his chest. He can almost imagine it's not his tail, but daddy Pac, hugging him after that scary dream where he got trampled over by bulls and pai Mike died with him. Papi Forever called them all the way from the other side of the server, and their fighting was comforting.

He may never hear them fight over silly things again.

He decides he needs a pillow, so he untucks himself from his own wrap and painstakingly extends his arm to grab one. It's softer with that under him.

Pai Mike taught him how to steal things unnoticed. Sneak in and out, deny any knowledge of what was happening if you get caught. They stole from 1% dad Quackity, since his house was closest. It wasn't much, and pai Mike didn't say it out loud, but he knows he was proud of him.

Papai Felps later helped him steal from Foolish, or so he remembers. That's around when he met Leonarda.

Richas wonders how she's doing.

Richarlyson had been the late bloomer among the eggs- according to tio Phil, and his siblings themselves, the day his dads arrived (and he appeared from seemingly nowhere, knowing only who his dads were, and the vague shape of a mother), everyone thought their eggs would die. Instead, they showed up with cracks on their shells, meaning they'd either die or hatch soon- Richarlyson didn't have those cracks at that point. Dapper had been almost completely out of his shell by the time his own began to crack.

Daddy Pac said it was okay, though. That it would just mean he's stronger- after all, the younger you are, the more naturally healthy you are. His siblings wouldn't even be able to hold a gun anymore, but he'd still be strong and he'd be able to do and get anything he wanted.

He laughed and pecked his dad- memory says his face turned into a perfect :o when he did. Richas chuckled; his dad picked him up and spinned him around.

Maybe things began getting weird when the first of his siblings began to hatch, but... he had his fathers, then, and what were Leo's distressed messages regarding her dads when his own were waiting inside to teach him more about tax evasion?

Dad Cellbit and Papai Felps were there when he hatched- they were so, so proud of him, hugging him and showering him in compliments, telling him he'd be as big as Foolish's statue one day. Then it gets hazy- papi, barging in, some emotion clear in his face, although he cannot remember which. It turns into happiness, when he sees Richarlyson, bits of egg shell still on him, but it doesn't last nearly long enough. He says... something, calls his other two dads and puts them on speaker.

They're out the door in a flash, telling Richarlyson to wait for them to come back.

He thinks someone screamed something, outside. "FEL- FOREVER!", or along those lines.

He's been waiting ever since.

His dads taught him how to play football, how to evade taxes, how to sleep with an eye open because you never know who's after you. They taught him how to kill those devilish bulls, how to make tapioca, how to tend to the farms. They taught him each other came above all else- that the world was unkind, but they weren't, not to him. His dad told him he used to be a criminal, kill hundreds of people. His dad never hurt him.

They loved him, and he loved them- still does.

They'd be proud of him, now, for laying on bed with a gun in hand and an easy to get sword. For shooting at the sky with no regard for what happens after. For not trusting people because they're not his dads.

He shoots himself upwards, shooting at the window with precision he's been practicing since he was a baby. Cucurucho does not move, barely noticing the shot. It simply stands there, watching, for a few minutes, until it gets tired of his unrelentless stare back and runs away as always.

He doesn't sleep that night, again.

#hi shy emoji is this anything #richarlyson #cellbit #felps #tazercraft #forever player #forever #richarlyson the egg #q!richarlyson #qsmp #bobby #quackity #tallulah #leonarda #dapper

[eskawrites]

Pause.

Karen Wheeler gets Vecna’d.

She’s been a target since summer of 1985, since a shadow whispered to Billy Hargrove, shut her up, kill her, bring her to me.

And oh, what a target she is. So miserable with her perfect life. Already reaching for the bottle, grasping for any escape, however dangerous it is. Drowning in the guilt that she regrets her choices, regrets her family, regrets her children. Maybe if she didn’t, maybe if she could just be happy with her life, she could be a better mother. And maybe, if she was just a better mother, she could protect her kids from the danger that always seems to lurk in Hawkins.

So Karen starts getting headaches. She attributes it to the stress of sending Mike across the country, of figuring out what to do with Holly during spring break, of worrying about Nancy, wearing her Emerson shirt and standing with one foot out the door already.

It’s easy to forget about it in the chaos of everything happening after the championship game. And it makes sense that everyone else is too distracted to notice that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, the Hawkins gang saves Max and immediately decides to figure out who the next victim will be. They gear up with walkmans and cassettes and scribbled out lists of everyone’s favorite songs. Nancy feels herself pulled in all directions—trying to keep Max safe, putting on a brave face for the rest of the kids, coming up with plans to keep the group moving, worrying about Mike and Will and El and Jonathan half a country away, reconnecting with Steve while trying not to break his heart again, and fighting this increasingly overwhelming draw she feels toward Robin Buckley of all people. It’s too much for one person to deal with, but she’ll never admit that. What choice does she have but to keep going?

Until a police car pulls up at wherever the group is hiding out now, scaring everyone half to death. But the sheriff only asks for Nancy with a weary expression. “Your mother’s been acting strange. I don’t know what’s going on with you kids, or anyone else in this town for that matter, but your father’s no help and she seemed rattled enough we don’t really want to leave her on her own.”

Nancy presses for more information, tries to get details, but she already knows. Before the others piece it together, before Max realizes even, Nancy knows.

God. She doesn’t even know her mother’s favorite song.

They split the party, half of them going with Eddie to hide out at Steve’s house, but Nancy, Max, Robin, and Lucas head back to the Wheeler’s.

Cue trauma and shenanigans from there, like Ted really being no help at all, and Holly not knowing much but knowing that everything is wrong, and Karen barely even looking at Nancy no matter what she says or does. Robin searching the entire house for something that seems like it could be Karen’s favorite song, trying to get answers out of Ted and earning herself a place on his bad side as she does, bumping into Holly and awkwardly trying to make her feel better by asking for her help finding the right song. Max and Lucas hovering awkwardly, but Max refuses to leave because if Vecna strikes maybe she can help, and Lucas refuses to leave because it’s Max, he’s always going to be there for her. The rest of the kids staying in touch with walkies and trying desperately to get a hold of Mike back in California.

And maybe Nancy still has her vision, but this time Vecna taunts her with her mother, the final victim, standing right in front of her and she can’t do anything to help her. And Nancy has known she’s cursed, that she poisons everything she touches, since that stupid party back in 1983, but it has never been so paralyzing as it is right now.

#this post brought to you by a girl who should’ve gone to bed like 3 hours ago #just thinking thoughts #stranger things #stranger things au #and a hint of #ronance #there is a Venn diagram of ronancers and Karen wheeler stans and the target audience for this post is right smack dab in the middle #writing things #I guess idk I’m sleepy #someone gets vecna’d fic but make it mother-daughter trauma

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch monster Steve

Part 15

Hopper responds to the noise complaints, Almost angry he's been so easily reinstated as Sheriff.

The Wheelers are well known, Joyce always said Karen could do better and Hopper never really liked Ted.

It should have been a simple keep it down, stop yelling and be apart for a few hours, the way it always was befere but something is different this time as Hopper pulls up.

And that difference is Steve Harrington sitting on the front Stoop waiting for his arrival.

"Holly is with Eddie and Wayne." Steve said as he stood. "Mike is at Will's and Nancy finally got the appartment she will share with Jonathan and Argyle, it's just, Ted and Karen."

"What am I walking in to Steve, something you did or upside down related or what?"

"Ted got violent he's never got like that before, he's not awake, I made him sleep. But I can't, help Karen, I don't know enough." Steve said quietly.

"You should go to Holly." Hopper said and shook his head at the protest.

Karen had told him Holly was Steve's if something happened to her, had to because he was the Sheriff and she didn't want Steve accused kidnapping.

Steve got Holly, no matter what and Hopper couldn't fault Karen for that, had changed El's gaurdianship to Steve too if something happened to him and Joyce. It meant adding Eddie Munson but Eddie had been good for El, she'd became a little more confident, a little loud but on her way to almost normal little girl with Edfie reassuring her it was okay.

But Holly was going to need Steve more than Eddie.

Before Russia Hopper had seen Steve lingering outside the Wheeler's, at the time he'd assumed Steve had been waiting for Nancy or leaving from visiting Nancy but knowing what he did now, having talked to Karen he could guess which Wheeler Steve had really been visiting, been protecting.

Steve stared at Hopper for a long at moment before he nodded.

"Try to save her, Holly needs her mom." Steve said and then faded into the Shadows as he tended to do.

Hopper hated it and it made the kids Shriek because there was no form hiding in the Shadows, Steve was just gone.

Hopper waited a moment before entering the house, calling out as he did, just in case Ted woke or Karen was aware enough to hear him.

Hours later Hopper was walking up to the Munson's new trailer, pausing at the sound of Holly's happy laughter.

Hopper stood there for a long moment not ready to let that sound die just yet.

It didn't take long, though for Steve, to come out, he seemed to spend more time at the Munson's than his house unless he was hosting the kids.

Hopper leaned against his truck and Steve joined him, waiting for Hopper to speak but not forcing him, not yet.

"They aren't sure she'll make and they aren't sure she'll wake up if she does." Hopper said eventually.

"Will Nancy be coming for Holly in the morning?" Steve asked.

Hopper looked at Steve, unsure if Steve was willing to let Nancy have her sister or if he wanted to know so they could vanish.

"Nancy doesn't get Holly, you and Eddie do." Hopper told him.

"But.."

"Karen made it clear that you get Holly, even if Ted wasn't the cause of her absence, you'd get Holly." Hopper explained

"She's mine?" "Steve asked in a soft voice.

"I think, in away, she always has been. You've been checking in on her since you and Nancy broke up, haven't you?" Hopper asked.

"I had to keep her safe." Steve blinked. "What about Mike?"

Hopper scowled "I talked Claudia into taking him for a few days, she's got the room, but he's got an uncle that's coming down to sort some legalities. We'll figure out what to do."

"I can take him too, that way he can stick around, or help Claudia with money to keep him, mom will won't mind. Might even adopt him herself." Steve said and looked at the trailer.

"What are you going to tell her?" Hopper asked.

"Tonight? Nothing. Tonight she's just having a sleepover with Stevie and Eddie. Tomorrow we'll tell her," Steve looked at Hopper, "We can tell Mike too."

Hopper sighed and nodded, "I'll tell Nancy in the morning, then, jesus, is it wrong that I hoped it was upside down related?"

Steve laughed. "The Down Below is simple, Survive, Humans are extreemly complex."

"Yeah," Hopper agreed.

"Steve, you're missing Unicorn Spaghetti!" Eddie shouted from inside the trailer.

"What is Unicorn Spaghetti?" Hopper asked, uncertain he wanted to know.

"Sprinkles instead of meat sauce." Steve said, "Eddie is determined to find something I won't eat or that will make my stomach upset." Steve shrugged. "Besides, he doesn't know how to cook real food so it's been unholy combinations since we started dating. Holly likes it."

"Well, as long Holly likes it." Hopper said.

Steve gave Hopper a look, "Prison won't save him, you know that, right?"

Hopper nodded, "Didn't expect it to."

"Good, I'll be nice enough to leave you a body, if only so they can have the closure." Steve told him.

"Steve," Holly called, "Unicorn Spaghetti."

"You want to join us?" Steve asked as he straightened.

"I'll pass, thank you." Hopper said with a small grimace.

Steve shrugged, "Your loss."

Hopper watched Steve enter the trailer, wondering if he should have protested Ted's inevitable death more but as he thought about Karen in that hospital bed and about telling Nancy that her mom might never wake up, about Mike and Holly possibly growing up without both their parent he realized that he really hoped that Steve made Ted very afraid before he died.

Hopper wondered if that made him a bad man but found he didn't care, he, like Steve would do just about anything to keep their kids safe and if that meant Ted Wheeler left the world of the living then so be it.

Hopper stayed there for a bit longer, listening to Holly's joy as they ate their Unicorn Spaghetti, he could only hope that it wouldn't be the end of her joy.

--

A/n: have I ever had Unicorn Spaghetti, no, is it something I think Eddie would make, absolutly, if only because he thinks having dinner and dessert at the same time is a great idea.

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#jim hopper #eldritch monster steve #upside down creature steve #from the rot #part 15 #steddie #holly wheeler & steve harrington #holly wheeler #eddie munson