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snoraz · 10 months

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Unspoken Gestures

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After seeing how overly stressed your closest friend was, you decided to take matters into your own hands to ease his load.

WC: 3,210

Category: Fluff

I’m sorry but he was so fine in the movie. Anyways-

Mike was… he was something. Some would say he was grumpy, and others say he was just downright cold, but you liked to think of him as a reserved kind of person. Sure, he was a bit awkward and unassertive, but he was also one of the nicest guys you knew.

It wasn't even because of his good looks. Well, maybe a little bit, but that wasn't what attracted you to him. It was his kindness. His love for his family, his baby sister. The way he'd dropped everything for her when it became just them. You loved how passionate he was when it came to protecting those he cared about. It's what drew you to him in the first place, really.

That and his face. That dumb smile, that little bit of stubble, those alluring hazel eyes. Those cheeks, that adorable laugh…

God, that laugh. You loved hearing it. It wasn't all that often that he would laugh, but when he did, it made your heart flutter. It made you want to hear it again and again, to make him laugh so much that his stomach hurt and his cheeks flushed with happiness.

He was so sweet, but sometimes he was closed off. He didn't always have the best days or the best attitude. Being a parent to your sister for the past year would’ve worn anyone out, of course, but he never really talked about it. You wanted to be there for him, you wanted to support him, you wanted him to be happy, but you couldn't if he wouldn't talk about it.

It wasn't until a few weeks ago that you even realized you liked him, like actually liked him. You knew the feelings had been there for a long time, but they were always there in the back of your mind. Now that they were there and present, it was like a light had been turned on.

You wanted to be there for him. You wanted to be the one he came to when he needed to relax. You wanted to be the shoulder he leaned on when he was down. You wanted to be the other person he turned to when he needed someone. You wanted to be able to take some of the burden off his shoulders.

You wanted to support him the same way he had supported Abby when she needed him to. You wanted to help him, even if he never needed it, even if he was a bit cold sometimes. Even if he was a bit awkward and maybe just a little bit shy.

That was why you decided to help him take the stress off his shoulders on your day off. He didn't have much of a sleep schedule, with his night shift job and being a parent to his little sister, and you knew he wouldn't turn down help, so that morning, you decided to clean up his house while Abby was at school and he was out running emergency errands. You started small, picking up trash and setting it by the door to throw out. You folded his clothes that had been lying around and piled them on his bed. You picked up the dishes and wiped down the counters. You scrubbed down the kitchen sink. You swept the living room floor. You vacuumed the carpet. You washed the windows.

And you did it all with a smile on your face.

When you were done, you wrote up a quick note telling him where everything was before you left, leaving it in the kitchen. The house looked nice, really nice, and it smelled like lemons. You knew he'd appreciate that. He loved that smell and said it reminded him of when his dad used to make his lemonade when he was a kid.

With that taken care of, you decided to head back to your apartment and change out of your cleaning clothes. When you got back to your place, you took a quick shower and changed into some sweats. You were going to make some lunch for yourself, but you were so tired after all that cleaning. So, you made yourself a big bowl of ice cream and curled up on the couch.

You were halfway through the movie you were watching when the door to your apartment opened. For a moment, you thought it was a robber breaking into your house, but when you saw Mike's presence near the entryway of the kitchen, you remembered that you had given Mike a key months ago when he was over one night to help fix the sink in the guest bathroom.

He was wearing his usual green jacket, but the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and the collar was undone. His hair was ruffled and a bit sweaty, and he looked tired, really tired. It must have been a long day for him.

"Uh, hey," He muttered, his voice a bit raspy. His hands were in the pockets of his hoodie, and you could tell he was a bit stiff. He seemed a bit awkward.

"Hi, Mike." You greeted warmly, trying not to sound like you were excited that he was there. Truthfully, him showing up at your place was the last thing you expected, but you didn't let that show on your face.

"You look exhausted. How was your day?" You asked, setting your half-finished bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of you.

He didn't answer right away, instead wandering further into your apartment, taking his hands out of his hoodie pocket to rub at his eyes. You watched as he turned and dropped his jacket and keys on the armchair of your living room couch, moving around as though he was on autopilot, his mind elsewhere. "It’s fine," he responded after a few moments of silence. "Same as always."

He stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck, his voice low and his eyes heavy. He looked like he was about to fall over any minute. It was a little bit cute, but you had to do something to get him to relax a little bit.

"You should be home in bed," You chided lightly, sitting up straighter and pointing to the couch. "Mike, not to be blunt, but you look terrible. You need to get some sleep."

"I had to come here first," Mike mumbled, sounding like he was almost asleep already as he flopped down onto the couch and kicked his legs up over the side. "The house was a mess when I left, now it's...I mean...I..." He stammered, his voice growing quieter.

"Hey," you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips as you rested a hand on his shoulder. He was warm, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the stress he'd built up over the course of the week. "It's fine, I promise."

He was still, almost as though he didn't hear you at first. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head toward you. He seemed almost dazed, as though he wasn't entirely with you, but he gave you a small, tired smile. It was enough to make your heart flutter.

Mike leaned back into the couch cushions and let his eyes slide shut as he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. You were worried that maybe he'd nodded off, but when he spoke, you realized he was just resting his eyes.

"Why? Why do you keep helping me? You don't...you shouldn't have to do this for me." He asked softly, his eyes still shut, as though he wasn't entirely there. He was vulnerable, you could tell, but he was trusting you with his thoughts, sharing them with you.

You brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face before answering him, leaning back into the couch, closer to him. "I'm helping you because I want to. I want to be there for you."

Mike's eyes opened, but he didn't look at you. Instead, he kept his gaze on the ceiling, studying the cracks in the paint and the stain that was on the plaster. He let out another slow breath, leaning further back into the couch and relaxing a bit like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes sliding shut again as if he was trying to rest. You knew he wouldn't sleep there on the couch, not comfortably anyway, so you leaned forward and took his hand, trying to get his attention.

Finally, when his eyes opened for the second time, his gaze fell on you, and you felt like he was looking right into your soul. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, looking at each other, neither of you speaking. You figured it was because of his exhaustion, but the way he looked at you was different from before. He didn't look tired or tired of you. He didn't look angry or irritated, not even annoyed.

Instead, his gaze was softer, more inviting. He wasn't looking through you anymore. Instead, he was looking at you. Really looking at you. He was studying your face, trying to see who you were and how you worked, what made you tick. He was looking at you the way you had always wanted him to look at you.

He leaned forward, slowly as if he were worried you would push him away, but you didn't move. He moved closer and closer until you felt his breath on your lips, and his eyes were fluttering closed. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his skin and the closeness of his body. You could smell his sweat, his shampoo, and the deodorant he used, and it was a mix of things that sent your head spinning.

"I don't...I don't get you." He muttered, his voice so low you almost didn't hear him. "I don't understand why you like me. I don't get it, I don't..."

He stopped, his breath still on your lips, and you opened your eyes to look at him. He was staring at you, looking you in the eyes, and you could see that he was hurting. He had always been so reserved, so closed off, and it was something you hated. You didn't like how much he hurt himself over the little things that people didn't even care about.

But, right now, you weren't going to focus on how closed off he was. You were going to focus on him. You were going to focus on Mike and the way his eyes shone in the light, how he was so close to you that you could feel his skin, how his mouth was just a hairsbreadth away from yours.

You were going to focus on the fact that he had trusted you. He had let you into his mind and his heart, and he had let you see him in his most vulnerable state. He was telling you how he felt without saying a word, and you could tell that he was trying to work up the courage to speak. You were going to focus on how beautiful his eyes were.

It was dark in your apartment, and the light from the paused television screen illuminated his face. It made his eyes glow a bit, and it made him look almost magical, almost otherworldly, like an angel or a god. Like something so good that it couldn't be real. He looked like something you were too afraid to touch, something you were too scared to break. He looked like something you wanted to protect, and he was so close to you, so warm and comforting, that you didn't know what to do.

"It's because..." Your voice was low, quiet, almost like a whisper. The two of you were so close that your lips were practically brushing against each other, and you were suddenly aware of how hard your heart was pounding. "Because you're such a sweetheart, Mike. You always have been. I like you because I know that you care. I know that you'd do anything for the people you care about."

He looked at you for a moment, and it seemed like he wasn't really there, like he was in another world. Then, he seemed to come back to you, his eyes refocusing on you as if he'd forgotten that you were there, and his jaw fell open just a little. His breathing was deep but quick as if he'd been running a marathon. He swallowed hard, his mouth clicking as his gaze darted between your eyes.

"I'm...I'm not that sweet," He muttered, his gaze finally falling back to yours. "I can get pretty rough. Especially with... certain things."

That made you snap out of your own reverie, your face flushing with heat as you processed what he'd said. He constantly said things that didn't mean the way you had. Of course, you knew that. But this time, with that look in his eyes, he didn't sound like he meant it as stress.

"I don't think Abby would appreciate that type of talk, Michael." you teased, leaning just a little bit closer to him.

"Good thing she's not here then, huh?" He asked, his tone playful. He had that smile on his face again. It was a different smile than the one before. The first smile had been sweet. This one was mischievous and playful, and it made your heart do a flip.

"Mike-"

But you didn't get to finish your thought before he slowly lifted his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you toward him, gently, so gently, like you were made of glass. His lips were warm, and you could feel his soft stubble brush against your cheeks. He didn't move at all, he didn't rush, he didn't even press into you. Instead, he let you take the lead. He let you kiss him.

His hand slowly moved to the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your skin as you leaned further into him. You closed your eyes and felt your body relax, releasing all the tension you had been holding in your body. It was as if everything was melting away, and the two of you were left in this little moment together.

His lips were soft against yours, and he kissed you so slowly, so sweetly, as though he had all the time in the world. You had never felt a kiss like that. Sure, you'd had some passionate kisses, some sloppy makeout sessions, but this...this was different.

This was the first kiss that you actually wanted, that you had wanted for years, and it was so sweet and so soft. His hand slowly slid down your body until it rested on your hip, pulling you closer to him, but he still didn't rush. He didn't want to take what he wanted. He wasn't being selfish. No, he was giving you a choice, he was letting you take the lead and take the power.

You felt his fingers curl into the hem of your shirt, but you pulled away, opening your eyes to look at him. You could feel your face heating up, your skin burning from the blush that had formed on your cheeks, and he let his hand slide under your shirt, his fingers slowly tracing circles over your hip.

His lips were still parted as though he was ready to speak, but no words came out. His eyes were half-closed and his hair was still a mess from when he'd been running his hands through it, and you had the urge to do the same thing to him. You had the urge to run your fingers through his hair and tell him how much you cared.

"Mike," you whispered softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand slid over your hip and down to your thigh, and you bit your lip at the sensation of his skin on yours. His gaze was heated, and he was so close, so close that you could feel the heat of his body and the softness of his breath. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to keep going, but you knew his schedule, practically by memory at this point.

"It's noon." You whispered, looking up at him from where you had laid your head against his shoulder, his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. "If you don't get home soon, you'll be late for Abby."

'Yeah, I know," he muttered, his eyes finally averted from yours. He stared off to the side, but you could still see the longing in his expression, the way his lips had parted slightly, as though he were thinking about kissing you again. "I gotta take a shower too." He added.

"And nap." You pointed out.

Mike huffed softly, closing his eyes for a moment before getting up and stretching his arms above his head. He let out another yawn, the kind of big, wide yawn that made his shoulders hunch up. He still looked like he wanted to kiss you, but the exhaustion was weighing him down, and he was fading fast.

"Right," he muttered, taking his hands out of his pockets to rub at his eyes, which were looking just a bit more droopy by the minute. He didn't move, though. He just stood there, looking like he wanted to stay, but he also wanted to go.

"Be careful on the way home." You teased, rising to your feet. "Don't fall asleep behind the wheel."

"I'm not that tired," Mike responded quickly, letting his arms drop to pick up keys off the armchair where his jacket was. He shoved them in his pocket as you headed toward the door, opening it for him. "And if I was, I wouldn't crash my car," He muttered.

You paused at the door, your hand still on the handle as he stopped just in front of you. His gaze fell on yours again, and he looked like he wanted to say something. His eyes were sparkling, and his lips were parted just a little. You felt like you could see his thoughts just from looking at him, and they were just as sweet as the kiss he'd given you.

But he didn't speak, and you knew he wasn't going to. He just stared at you for a long moment before nodding and walking out, pausing only to shut the door behind him. You stood there for a moment, not moving, not speaking. You were still reeling from the kiss, trying to piece together what had happened in the span of five minutes.

But, despite your confusion and the way you were reeling, you had a smile on your face. A genuine, wide smile, the kind that made you feel like you could float away if you tried hard enough. The kind of smile that came with your lips feeling like they were about to split in two and your cheeks hurt from the stretch. It was the kind of smile that you didn't have very often, and it was a nice feeling.

And, most importantly, it was a smile that Mike had put there.

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snoraz · 10 months

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these scars on your wrists? (mike afton x reader)

prologue: after school you go to your boyfriends house, it’s a hot day and you wonder why he’s still wearing these arm sleeves of his (that don’t even cover his whole arm, just from his wrists to the middle of his arm), when his arm sleeve ends up falling you find out why he wears it. basically michael cries and you cuddle him. angst to reverse comfort, happy end for y’all, that’s it. btw, this is fnaf 4 michael.

tw: self-harm, scars, mentions of depression and past abuse, grammar/spelling mistakes, not proofread.

“oh god, it’s too hot today” you say as you walk next to your boyfriend, holding his hand as you both are walking to his house together.

“yeah, it’s fuckin’ hot today” mike says, wiping a little bit of sweat off his forehead with one of his arm sleeves. you wondered why he wore it though it was a very hot day and it didn’t seem like something that would cool down his body temperature, quite the opposite.

“what’s with the arm sleeve, may i ask?” you asked quietly, michael dismissing your questions by shaking his head, you didn’t insist.

as you got to his house you two were all alone since well, his siblings were at school and his dad was working on the pizzeria, or at least that’s what he said. you both went to the kitchen, taking some of the food his father left and eating it, talking about how was the day at school.

“can’t keep up with that girl, what’s her name again? don’t even remember” mike said, referring to a girl that was always a pain in the ass, she kept trying to make advances on him even though he’d politely decline all of her advances (well, at least he tried to be polite). his comment made you let a small laugh as you ate.

“poor you, got all the girls over you, but it seems like you chose me” you said with a small wink, smiling at him as you watched him eat his meal.

as soon as both of you finished you put the dishes on the dishwasher, leaving the kitchen and heading to his room where both of you laid down on his bed, you both were talking when he lifted his arms and looked at the ceiling, his arm sleeve falling from his wrists and trailing to his shoulder, he didn’t even notice.

when you looked at him you saw it, his arms covered in scars and fresh cuts, all self inflicted, it was obvious, you stayed quiet, not wanting to mention it first, you felt your heart sink.

“now tell me…oh, fuck-“ he started, interrupting his own self as he glimpsed at his own arms, he knew you’d seen it, there’s nothing he could do…it felt awkward, both of you were silent, it was even a bit uncomfortable then you spoke the first sentence.

“i know something happened” you said softly, swallowing a bit, he didn’t even bother to put the arm sleeve back, there was no point in doing so.

“a lot of shit happened, a real lot, i’m sorry” he said, his voice changing from one of hatred and going to one of sorrow as he looked at you, feeling himself starting to break down as he stared at your eyes that expressed pure shock and horror.

you felt bad about the way you looked at him, it made him feel guilty but you just couldn’t keep that shocked expression to yourself. “no, don’t apologize, just-“ you cut yourself off, watching his expression soften into a sad one, he was biting his lower lip, trying to hold his tears but his eyes showed sadness and a hint of guilt.

a tear started running down his face, you couldn’t help but feel bad, quickly pulling him into an embrace, he clung onto you like his life depended on it, sobbing on your shoulder…it felt weird to see his tough and rough persona he always acted like just completely fade and be vanished by a wave of sadness which now you knew that existed for a very long time.

“shh, i’m here…” you mumbled to him, stroking his hair, his grip tightening around you as he felt afraid of what you’d think of him after he just broke down in front of you like that. “it’s fine my dear, you can cry as much as you want to, i’ll be there to hold you close” you assured him, most people would tell him to stop crying, saying it was going to be okay but you just felt like he needed this, he needed to cry and let it all out, everything he’s been holding for god knows how long.

your words seemed to encourage him, his grip softening a little bit as he looked up at you, tears still falling from his eyes. “you’re not upset? not gonna yell at me? do you not hate me for that?” he asked desperately, you just shook your head.

“i love you, that won’t change my love for you in any way i promise” you whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead and wiping his tears with your thumb. “how could anyone be mad at you for that?” i added, caressing his face.

“dad was mad when he found out, he was very mad…” he said, his voice cracking a little…so his dad knew? and he didn’t do anything? how come he’d just let his own son like that? was it because he bullied his younger brother? but that didn’t excuse his action of letting his own son hurt himself like that. mike suddenly started speaking again: “he slapped my face, he said i was a weak boy and that i wasn’t so different from that coward i call brother” he said, wiping his own tears.

today would be a long night, you knew that. “how did he find out? when? why?” you asked, a bit disoriented by the situation. “dad always knew, even since the start, he caught me in the act and i couldn’t do anything but listen to a one hour speech about how i was dumb” he said, taking a deep breath to calm down himself.

“your dad is a piece of shit, i’ve told you to not listen to him” you said harshly, getting angrier by the second but then noticing how mike flinched a bit at your tone of voice…that made you snap back to reality, realizing it wasn’t time to be harsh on him, it was time to take care of him…he already had enough people being harsh on him, he didn’t need you acting like that too.

“sorry my love, i didn’t mean it like that” you whispered with instant regret, sighing then caressing his face again. both you and him felt quite shocked, this situation just seemed unreal.

both of you then sat on the bed, the silent filling the room as you took his arms, looking at his wounds…he simply looked away, not daring to make a sound. “what happened? these scars on your wrists?” you asked, looking at him.

“lots of shit, dad’s getting worse since mom died he’s too cruel and i just can’t stand him anymore” he started, you knew there as more coming from where it came from. “i’m falling at school, my siblings hate me, dad hates me…i’ve been falling apart again, i started getting worse again and i just dunno…” he sighed, looking up at you and waiting for some kind of reaction.

the expression of horror was gone, replaced by one of understanding and reassurance. “for god’s sake, don’t do this to yourself, i swear we can work this out and i’ll help you to find a better way of coping” you said, kissing the tip of his nose and smiling a bit, holding his hands. “let’s get you patched up, ‘kay?” you said, walking with him to the bathroom and picking up the first aid kit on the sink.

“be gentle, please…it hurts” he said in a timid and weak voice you’d never heard hims speak before. “i’ll be careful, promise” you said, washing his arms with soap and water only, he winced a bit but didn’t pull his arm away…you then patched it up with some bandages, pressing a soft kiss on each of his forearms.

you both went back to his room, you both spent some time talking about it and discussing how to help him heal. “you should tell me whenever you feel down, or better, you must tell me.” you said, nodding to yourself, and so he did, nodding at you.

after more talking, you both had come to an agreement he should always come to you, both of you felt like what had just happened was not only bad, in a way it made your relationship stronger and the fact you didn’t dump him proved him you were not like his old playdates, you actually loved him. as he thought a bit he couldn’t help but press a soft and small kiss on your lips.

“thank you…for keeping up with me even when i’m a mess” he said while hugging you again, you hugged him back, rubbing his back. “don’t be like that” you said half playfully half serious.

“love you” he mumbled, letting a small relaxed grunt as he held you, happy someone would finally be there to help him, he felt stupid for not telling you before. “love you too” you mumbled back, feeling a little bit better about the whole situation, knowing he was willing to get help, you even let a small smile form on your lips.

a/n: hiii, sorry if i messed up while writing this, i’m still begging so yeah 🤷‍♀️, also, let’s all love mike <3 idk what else to say, so i guess i’ll js apologize again for my writing mistakes and sorry if this is a little ooc, i’m trying i swear ashjahd 😪 hope y’all liked it though, if there’s any mistakes i should fix js tell me pls 🫶.

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