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#mike would always have his arms around will’s waist
cosm0tology · 1 year
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you’re gonna look me in the face and tell me mike wheeler would not be the clingiest man ever as soon as him and will start dating. you’re gonna look at me and tell me that mike wheeler wouldn’t need to be touching will at all times to function properly.
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diedoverahat · 5 months
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A Different Kind of Compensation.
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part two!
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pairing: mike schmidt x fem!reader
prompt: you’ve been babysitting abby for mike nearly three months now. he constantly apologizes for not paying you yet, you constantly tell him it doesn't bother you. one night he comes back from his shift at freddy’s and has a different idea on how to compensate you for all of your hard work.
warnings: 18+, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering (kinda???), munch!mike.
word count: this was supposed to be a short dirty work that somehow turned into a 2.2k monster. told you i love to ramble.
authors note: remember when i said i might write smut if i was just so moved by an ask? well turns out my very first ask moved me. y'all are nasty, i love it. mike, of course, is a munch because why would he be anything else? i never, with a capital N, write smut so please bear with me if it sucks. i hope whoever requested this loves it! i wrote it instead of finishing my scientific article for bio so it better be decent hehe.
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The sound of the front door opening followed by heavy footsteps woke you up from where you were dozing off on the couch. You gazed at the clock on the side table near you and sure enough, 6:10 blinked back at you. Mike was finally home. You heard him shuffling around in the kitchen, most likely shedding his work vest and hanging his keys on the little hook by the door.
You yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up on the couch. The blanket you used to cover yourself falling to pool around your waist. Mike finally made his way to the living room, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt. 
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough from lack of use. “Abby eat anything?”
“Yeah, a little,” You mutter back through a barely concealed yawn, head lolling to rest on the back of the couch. “You know how she is.”
He hums in acknowledgement but stays silent apart from that, keeping his gaze trained on the infomercial playing on TV. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. You sit up even further on the couch, leaning against the arm rest facing Mike. The blue/green hue of the TV bathed him in light, his hair was unruly with curls sticking out at awkward angles. He had deep bags under his eyes. Just as you thought about getting up to take off, he spoke up again. 
“I promise I’ll get you the money,” he says softly, not taking his eyes off the TV, “I…I just need some time.”
You scoff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Mike, you know I don’t care about the money. I don’t mind doing this for you.” You reply, nudging his knee with your foot softly then just leaving it perched on his lap.
Mike finally turns to look at you, there's a strange look on his face that you can’t quite place, but you give him a small smile all the same. He stares at you for a few beats, you can practically see the gears turning in his head. 
“You deserve something,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You do so much for me, it’s only fair.” As he speaks, he slowly moves his hand off the couch to your ankle still resting on his thigh, he starts rubbing slow circles over the skin there. His eyes never left yours as he touched you, a very obvious question in them. Asking if you wanted this.
Heat instantly rushed to your belly, cheeks turning a light shade of red at his touch. You’d always thought Mike was attractive, but you never would have imagined he’d want to be anything more than friends. Since he was already so busy with taking care of Abby and his hellish new job.
You swallow once before speaking, your throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “What are you suggesting?” You ask so softly, wondering if he even heard you. Mikes’ fingers stop in favor of trailing his hand up your calf in a featherlight touch, disappearing under the blanket to seek out more of your soft skin. Your heart is beating so fast you think you might die, the sound of it echoing in your ears loudly. 
Mike's big brown eyes stare into yours with a newfound intensity, visibly shocked that you're reacting so viscerally to his touch, his pupils are blown to hell. Chocolate brown being swallowed by black.  His tongue coming out to sweep over his top lip.
“How about you,” he says slowly, scooting closer to you on the small couch. He crowds into your personal space like he belongs there. Mike’s lips inches away from yours. He smells like old leather and dust from being cramped in the security office at Freddy’s. Your chest heaves as your eyes flit back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Seconds drag by like hours as you painstakingly wait for him to finish his sentence. “Stay right there while I make you feel good.” He finally says, his breath fanning over your face hotly. You can’t even speak, afraid of how desperate you might sound, just nodding your head roughly, not looking away from his hungry gaze.
Mike’s hand runs up your leg quickly after you give him the green-light, slipping further under the blanket and higher up your leg until he reaches his destination. He rubs you gently through your shorts, your breath hitches sharply at what should be just a simple touch, but you’re still so worked up from earlier that it feels ten times more extreme. You grasp the blanket still strewn over your lap tightly in your fists, it's the only thing keeping you from seeing Mike’s hand at work between your legs.
Mike reacts to touching you for the first time like he can feel it too. His breath stutters out of his chest, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your already wet folds through your thin cotton sleeping shorts. “Fuck.” He breathes out quietly, so quietly you doubt he even meant to say it out loud. He opens his eyes again, breathing slightly rougher as he stares at you through his arousal induced haze and heavy eyelids. 
Seeing your face must spur him on because he starts rubbing with more fervor than before, his clever fingers applying more pressure making you moan softly. You cut yourself off quickly, eyes darting down the hall to Abby's bedroom door. It's still closed, there's no light leaking through the crack between it and the floor.
"Shit, Mike." You whine quietly.
Mike groans softly at the sound of his name leaving your lips, body trembling slightly with the feeling. Suddenly he wrenches his hand out from under the blanket, and rips it off your lap frantically. You gasp sharply at the cool air breaking through the bubble of warmth the blanket provided, involuntarily closing your legs.
Mike pushes up from his position on the couch next to you, knee walking over so he's kneeling in-front of your clenched thighs. You're still slightly sprawled across the cushions, leaning on the arm of the couch.
"Do you know how crazy you make me?" He asks roughly, putting both his hands on your still closed knees. It takes a second for your brain to catch up to answer him, after a few moments you finally manage a faint shake of your head.
"No?" He asks, tilting his head to the left slightly. "Let me show you then."
Mike grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and leads your hand down into his lap. Your breath catches in your throat when he places your hand directly over his clothed erection, but it gets drowned out by Mike's louder whine thanks to you touching him for the first time. You drag your eyes downward, his dark grey sweatpants leave little to the imagination. He got more worked up touching you than you first thought, if the wet patch forming near the tip of his hard-on was anything to go by.
As soon as you started to rub him with purpose, Mike grabbed your wrist, halting your efforts. "No," He said breathlessly, practically panting. "No, this is for you tonight. Just wanna focus on you."
He let go of your wrist, turning his head in your direction. Both of you failed to realize how close you'd gotten when he dragged you to him. Your noses practically touch when he turns, catching you both off guard. His eyes travel down to your lips, staring at how red and puffy they'd gotten from you biting them to muffle your moans.
"How sweet of you, Mike." You whisper, leaning in just a tad closer. He lets out a guttural groan and closes the distance between your lips, claiming your mouth with his own. He leans forward, gently guiding you to lay back on the couch. His body completely covering yours as the two of you makeout, his arms on either side of your head and his hips slotting against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against your cunt. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up to meet his.
Mike breaks the kiss with a whine, trying to muffle the noise by shoving his face in your neck. You bring your hands up to tangle in his curly hair, yanking it roughly as he starts littering kisses all along your collarbones. Nipping and sucking in-between his gasping little moans as you twist and pull his hair in your grip.
He tears his mouth away to stare up at you through his lashes, his lips are swollen and red. “Please,” He gasps out, his hips unconsciously grinding down into your thigh. “Let me eat you out. Please. Tell me I can, say I can.” He babbles, hips rutting faster every second you don’t answer him.
“Yes.” You exclaim as quietly as possible. “Do it, Mike. Eat me out.”
Mike’s whole body shudders at your words, eyes falling closed for a second before he quickly slides down your body, leaving an odd kiss here and there as he goes. He brings his hands up to grip the waistband of your shorts, pausing to take a single steadying breath, then he tugs them down along with your panties and tosses them aside. He stares down at you in awe for a good few moments before he lays on his stomach, right in front of your dripping cunt.
Mike kisses along the inside of your thighs for a bit, licking everywhere but where you want him to the most. “Thank you.” he mutters, tone way too earnest for the situation at hand but you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s diving face first into your thighs.
“Fuck!” You let your voice get way too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the house, but you can’t help it. You didn’t think Mike had lots of experience because of some late night drunken talks before, but he was either lying or holding out. He works his tongue expertly along every inch of you. Every swirl, flick, or suck has you catapulting to the edge way faster than you’d imagined.
It doesn't help that Mike keeps letting out these noises. Small needy whines or deep guttural groans that you can feel. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting head, unashamed and authentic. It’s so fucking sexy.
“Shit Mike, I’m close. I’m so close.” You whisper too quietly for him to hear with his head trapped between your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. Mike brings his thumb up to lightly circle your clit as he laps against your entrance, and you're gone.
Your thighs shake as you release, grabbing on Mike’s hair for dear life as you go through the most intense orgasm ever. He moans into your cunt, working you through the aftershocks. He laves his tongue along you until the overstimulation gets to be too much and you drag his face away by his hair.
He sits up, the bottom half of his face covered in spit and slick. That visual alone is almost enough to get you ready for round two. It’s silent except for the heavy breathing coming from you both.
After he catches his breath, Mike retrieves the blanket from behind his back somewhere to cover the lower half of your body. Your thighs are still shaking as he lays next to you, it’s a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to mind. He kisses the side of your face sweetly, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you in even closer.
You finally regain enough conscience to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off?” You ask, “I mean I can’t feel my legs but I’m sure we could think of something.” Mike only laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, this was about you.” He said, beginning to rub his fingers back and forth on your hip. “Plus I, uh, I already sort of…” He trails off, a flush forming on his cheeks.
It took you a second to realize what he was saying, but when it clicked you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. You lifted up the blanket covering the two of you, and sure enough Mike had an impressive wet patch seeping through his sweats.
He pinches your hip lightly, offended by your giggling. “Don’t laugh at me,” He complains with a smile, yanking the blanket back up. “I couldn’t help it.”
You stifle another laugh to the best of your ability, though your shoulders still shake ever so slightly. You turn your head to press a kiss to his lips. It’s different from the previous kisses you shared tonight. It’s slower and softer, full of a new emotion that you both feel, but know that it can wait to be talked about later. For now you’re both just basking in the afterglow.
You break the kiss first, pulling back only slightly to lean your forehead against his. You both smile at each other for a second.
“Okay,” You give in, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from his face. “But believe that tomorrow is all about you.”
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fanficgirl429 · 5 months
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Mike has a feelings for you (fluff)
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Prompt: While babysitting Abby she tells you that Mike has a crush on you
Pairing: Reader x Mike Schmidt
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“I can’t believe I have to fucking work today,” Mike says, pulling his gray security shirt on. “I told them I can only work during the week!”
Your best friend scrambles around the living room, looking for his phone, keys, and wallet- all of which are in various places. You are currently sitting on the couch, watching all of this unfold. He was always leaving his items in various places. How many times had you told him to leave them in the same spot?
He finds his keys and phone and shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Where is my wallet?” he says, running his fingers through his already messy brown hair.
“Did you check your room?” you ask.
He quickly leaves the room and returns moments later with his wallet in his hand.
Mike let’s out a sigh and looks over at you. “Are you sure you’re ok watching her? I can always call Max.”
“I don’t mind watching her at all,” you tell him.
You stand up and walk over to your best friend. Wrapping your arms around his waist you pull him into a tight hug. He instantly relaxes and wraps his arms around you.
“You have no idea how amazing you are,” Mike tells you, smiling.
You laugh as Mike takes a step back and towards the front door.
“Thank you so much for watching her,” Mike calls. “I owe you!”
“Hey Abs,” you say, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “What are you drawing?”
Abby smiles and passes you the sheet of paper. There is a white house with a large tree and three people standing out front. A man, a woman, and a child.
“You have to tell me who everyone is,” you say, pointing to the three people.
Abby stands up and comes to sit besides you on the bed. Her small hand points to the man on the page, “That’s Mike,” she moves her hand to the woman, “you,” and points to the child, “and that’s me.”
You weren’t shocked that you were drawn- Abby tended to draw the three of you alot. Mike and you had been best friends since middle school and you loved Abby like she was your little sister. Most of her drawings were things the three of you had done together or what she wanted to do with the two of you.
“And who’s house is this?” you question.
“We all live there together,” Abby states.
“Oh, that sounds fun,” you reply.
“Yea! Because you and Mike are going to get married!”
Abby’s comment throws you off. Not once has she ever asked about your and her brother's relationship.
“What makes you think we’re getting married?”
“Because Mike has a crush on you,” Abby says, shrugging.
You laugh. “No he doesn’t.”
Abby nods her head. “Yes he does. He says your name a lot in his sleep.”
“But that doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you tell her.
Abby’s silent for a moment then answers quietly. “You make him smile and laugh and he’s always happy when you’re around. He’s not like that around anyone else.”
Her answer surprises you but kids are very perceptive. Instead of pressing any further, you tell Abby to start to get ready for bed.
“Do you have a crush on Mike?” Abby askes as you tuck her in to her bed.
“Oh…um…yea, I do,” you tell her.
Little does Abby know but you are in love with her brother.
Abby smiles and nods and you turn the light off, closing the door behind you as you walk back to the living room.
—-
Abby falls asleep quickly and you sit in the living room watching tv. Your mind keeps going back to conversation with Abby. Does Mike really have a crush on you?
Abby doesn't know it (well maybe she figured it out) but you’ve had feelings for Mike for a long time. You loved your relationship with Mike and didn’t want to jeopardize it so you never made any indication or moves towards him. You had hoped that maybe he would be the first one to make a move but he never did.
All of the sudden it hits you, how tired you are. You stand up from the couch and stretch and slowly walk back towards Mikes room. This isn’t the first time you had slept over. Many times after Abby had gone to sleep, you and Mike would stay up together, hanging out. At first Mike insisted that you sleep at his house but now he didn’t even have to say anything- you would just crash on his bed, next to him.
It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep and a few hours later, the bed dips slightly as Mike lays down next to you- waking you but only for a brief moment.
—-
The sun peeks through the curtains in Mikes room and the smell of bacon and pancakes wake you up from your sleep.
The spot on the bed next to you is disheveled -the only evidence that Mike has slept there.
As you lay in bed for another minute, you hear voices drifting down the hallway. You can’t make out what they are saying but you can tell it’s Mike and Abby.
Standing up, you walk into the hallway but hang back for a moment- waiting to see what they are talking about.
“Did you know that Y/N had a crush on you?” Abby tells Mike.
“How do you know?” you hear him ask.
“She told me,” Abby states matter of factly.
It’s then that you decide to walk into the small kitchen. Abby and Mike are both sitting at the small kitchen table, eating bacon and pancakes.
“Morning,” you say, walking over to the coffee maker.
“Morning,” Abby and Mike say at the same time.
Mike's hair is sticking up in various directions and he looks like he just woke up. His dark t-shirt hugs his frame and you know he’s wearing his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants.
“I’m going to go draw,” Abby says, leaving you and Mike alone in the kitchen.
Mike watches as you pour yourself a glass of coffee but don’t turn around to face him.
“So,” he begins. “Abby told me something interesting…”
“And what was that?” you question, although you already know the answer.
“She said that you have a crush on me.”
“Oh. Why would she say that?”
“She said that you told her you did.”
You turn around to face your best friend, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks are slightly pink and it makes you feel better that this conversation might be slightly embarrassing for him as well.
“I-uh-,” you stammer.
Mike stands up and walks over to you and your back presses against the counter. He slowly moves his hands to your waist, waiting to see how you’ll react. When you don’t move away, he grips your waist, his brown eyes locking with yours.
“What if I told you that I had a crush on you?” he says.
A soft smile crosses your lips and Mike reaches up and places his hand against your cheek, his thumb moving in small circles.
You move your arms up and snake them around his neck, waiting for him to make the next move. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.
Within moments, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours before pulling away.
“Why did you stop?” you tease him.
He smiles as his presses his lips against yours and they move together, almost as if the two of you had done this before.
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amentomensmut · 4 months
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Stress Relief
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Mike Schmidt x fem!reader
Summary: Mike comes home from work stressed, and you decide to help him out. Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: 18+ content!, AGE GAP!! in my mind reader is 21 and Mike is 31, degrading, praise, name calling (baby, sweetheart, whore), fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, finger sucking, creampie, cum play (sorta at the end not really), also a warning for how bad i am at writing endings 😭
Note: I really hope u guys enjoy, this is my longest fic so far!! A little nervy to post for some reason. Also, please send in any writing requests or prompts if you'd like!
In the three weeks that you’d been babysitting for Mike's sister Abby, you’ve never seen Mike come home from a shift so angry before. You watch from the couch as Mike, without sparing you a glance, rips his jacket off, and walks to his bedroom. Not long after, you hear the shower begin to run.
You crinkle your eyebrows in confusion at Mike's unusual and somewhat dramatic entrance. You don’t think much of it as you wake Abby up for school, begging her to get ready faster because you already let her sleep in for too long. After getting some food in Abby’s stomach, and driving her faster than you should be to school, you decided to head back to the Schmidt household, just to make sure Mike is alright. Besides, you drove Abby to school while he was in the shower, so he might not have heard you guys leave. You should at least let him know. It’s not like you’re making an excuse to see him.
You enter the house and take your shoes and coat off at the door. It’s silent and you can’t hear the shower running anymore so you assume Mike is in his bedroom. You walk down the hallway to Mike’s bedroom door and you softly knock.
“Mike? I, um, I drove Abby to school.” You say, listening intently for a response. You’re nervous for some reason, you don’t know why. You wait for a few seconds with no answer on the other side of the door. Maybe Mike isn’t home, you think. That, or he just doesn’t want to talk to you. You turn on your heels to leave back down the hallway when you hear Mike's door open.
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” You hear Mike say. You turn back around to face Mike and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. He’s practically naked, save for a towel around his waist. His hair is wet and drops of water drip down his neck and chest. You won’t lie and say you don’t find Mike attractive, of course you do. But, that was a feeling you had always pushed away. Besides, the man is 10 years older than you. Mike and you, would never happen. You know that. But a girl can dream, can’t she?
“Yeah, of course. Anything I can do to lessen your load.” You say with a cheesy smile that you can’t help, and you scold yourself in your head for your pathetic answer. You keep your eyes glued to Mike's face, trying desperately not to follow the drops of water that trail down his torso. Mike lets out the ghost of a smirk at your response, and he leans on his bedroom door.
“Yeah, well, thanks again.” Mike says, like that should be the end of the conversation, but neither of you move to leave. It’s almost like Mike knows you want to keep talking to him. That you want his attention, and you can see his smirk growing bigger the longer you stand there.
“I was just-, I was wondering if you were alright? You seemed kinda stressed when you came back from work this morning.” You feel embarrassment at your desperate attempt to continue the conversation, and you cross your arms over your chest. For a split second, Mike's eyes watch the way your cleavage becomes more emphasised by your actions. He acts like it didn’t happen, and it happened so fast you question if it even did.
“It was just a stressful shift, that’s all.” Mike says, and his eyes bore into yours.
Before you can even think about it, the words leave your mouth.
“I could help, if you want. Y’know, relieve the stress.”
Mike doesn’t even look fazed by your words, but you want to be swallowed by the ground right now. The lazy smirk on Mike's face remains, and you start to fidget with your fingers nervously.
“You wanna help me to relieve some stress?” Mike asks. You timidly nod your head and Mike can’t help but softly laugh.
“You know sweetheart, I don’t bite. Relax a little.” Mike says, probably referring to the fact that you look incredibly nervous. Mike walks a little closer to you, and you’re now standing only a couple inches apart.
“I see how you look at me. You try to hide it, but you’re not very stealthy.” Mike says slowly, trying to gauge your reaction to the shift in moods. You suck in a sharp breath at Mike's words, and you curse yourself for being so obvious with your little crush.
“Sorry.” You say somewhat quietly, and Mike shakes his head.
“No, no. No need to be sorry, I find it flattering coming from a pretty girl like you.” Mike says as he tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ears. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you feel Mike's hand cupping your cheek and rubbing soothing circles into it with his thumb.
“Tell me what’s going on up here.” Mike says softly as he moves his thumb from your cheek to your forehead. You bite the inside of your cheek. You’ve gotten this far, you might as well just tell him.
“I wanna help you relieve some stress. Wanna make you feel good.” You say, and Mike’s eyebrows raise at your bold words. He brings his hand down to your chin, holding it with his pointer finger and thumb. He brings his thumb to your lips, and you slowly open them, letting him push his thumb inside your mouth. You suck his thumb into your mouth, flicking your tongue along the underside of it and hollowing your cheeks. Mike groans and he pushes his thumb as far into your mouth as it can go.
“Jesus Christ.” Mike practically moans. You keep your eyes locked with his and after a few more seconds Mike retracts his thumb from your mouth. “You want it that bad, huh?” Mike asks teasingly, and you nod your head. “Yes.” You confirm.
Mike brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. He turns both of you around and begins to walk you back into his bedroom. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Mike sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back before sitting you on the end of his bed. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.
“You wanna make me feel less stressed, baby?” Mike asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. His crotch is in line with your face, and you can see the outline of his dick through the towel.
“Please.” You say, and you swear your mouth starts to water at the thought of sucking Mike’s dick. The towel that was once hanging low around Mike’s waste is now on the floor. You practically moan at the sight of Mike’s hard cock. It looks like it hurts, with precome steadily dripping from the tip. You slightly smile at the fact that you were able to do that. You take the base of his cock in your hands, and you slowly stroke him up and down. You watch the way he tilts his head back, exposing his neck to you. Mike grabs your cheeks with one hand, smooshing them together so your lips purse out.
“Take it into your mouth, baby. You’re a big girl. You can do it.” Your legs clench together at his words and Mike brings the hand that was once on your face to the top of your head. You kiss the tip of Mike’s dick, licking away some of the precum. You suck the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. You hear Mike groan and push your head down farther onto him. You hold his thighs for support as you take him deeper. You moan around Mike’s dick and you feel him twitch in your mouth. You gag as he hits the back of your throat and Mike moans loudly.
“God, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Mike says as he pushes your head down as far as it can go, until your nose touches the coily hairs at the base of his cock. He guides your mouth off of him, leaving a trail of spit that connects your lips and the tip of his dick. Mike wipes away the tears that started to fall down your cheeks and he guides you back onto the bed. He kisses you deeply as he hovers over you. He brings his lips down to your jaw, neck, and your collarbones; softly sucking and licking. He helps you take off your shirt and your bra and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, and then moving to the next one giving it equal attention.
“Mike, please.” You whine, squirming as Mike places a kiss between your breasts. Mike sits back and runs his hands up and down the sides of your body.
“Oh, you're feeling extra polite this morning, huh? Please, Mike. I wanna make you feel good, Mike.” Mike mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Mike just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.
“Don’t hide your pretty face now, sweetheart. I wanna see it when I make you cum.” Mike says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Mike teases your clit while never taking his eyes off of your face.
Mike begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear Mike laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Mike takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your leggings against your pelvis.
“Can I take these off? They’re uh, a little restricting.” Mike says with a little laugh, and you join in, giggling as you nod your head at his question. Mike takes his hand off of your wrists to take your leggings and panties off. Once they’re off, he spreads your legs and you hear him groan at the view of your wet pussy in front of him. Mike inserts a finger into you and you moan loudly, arching your back off the bed.
“Dirty girl. You like getting fingered by older men?” Mike says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. Mike adds another finger and he pumps them in and out of you quickly. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around Mike's thick fingers make your legs begin to shake. Mike spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around Mike's fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.
You breathe heavily, recovering from your orgasm as you watch Mike suck your cum off of his fingers. Mike leans in to kiss you again, softly this time and you smile against his lips in your post orgasmic bliss.
“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Mike says sweetly and you nod your head. Mike runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Mike slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the pillow.
“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Mike grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. Mike starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster.
“Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you when you wait for me to come home from work.” Mike spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at Mike's words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.
“I bet you touch yourself to the thought of me at night. I bet you’ve touched yourself thinking about this exact moment.” Mike says, as he brings his thumb to your sensitive clit and starts to rub harsh circles.
“Mike, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Mike's cock.
“Cum, baby. Cum for me.” Mike moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through Mike's hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Mike buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.
After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Mike takes his face out of your neck and gives your forehead a kiss.
“You were so good. Amazing.” He says, praising you as he begins to slowly pull out of you. He watches the way his cum slowly leaks out of you, and he pushes it back in with his middle and pointer fingers.
Mike gets up to go get you a warm towel and the only thing you can think about as you lay, legs shaking, on Mike's bed, is thank god for Mike being stressed.
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therainywriter · 3 months
Text
Missed You 18+ (Smut/Fluff)
Pairing: Mike Schmidt x F!Reader
Abby had you on the floor, coloring with her as she simultaneously watched an old cartoon. She kicked her feet back and forth, eyes slowly growing heavy as she fought back sleep.
You suppressed a smile, knowing she was waiting for Mike to come home, she always did. It was an endearing thing and showed just how much she loved him. Even if he sometimes thought otherwise.
You were growing drowsy yourself and stood with a yawn, “Let’s put you to bed kiddo,” you mumbled to her sweetly, having adopted the nickname from Mike.
She seemed to ponder over your words for a moment before she reluctantly gathering her things. You put her papers and crayons away as she snuggled into bed.
You tucked her in and turned off the lights, pausing when her voice called out to you, “Will you leave the door cracked.. please?”
You nodded, “Of course, sweet dreams Abby,” you said softly, heart melting when she whispered goodnight.
You did as she asked and left the door cracked before you made your way back into the living room. You cleaned up what little mess the two of you had made and curled up on the couch.
The house was quiet aside of mumbling voices on the TV, you were warm and cozy, cuddled so snugly in the corner that you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep.
You awoke just as Mike was closing the front door. He gave you a tired smile as he took off his boots and joined you on the couch.
He pulled you onto him, letting you stay tucked within your fluffy blankets. You hummed, laying your head on his chest, pressing a kiss there as he sighed.
“Rough night?” you asked with a gentle frown, looking up at his pretty brown eyes.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice weary. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, working his way down until he met your lips.
“Missed you,” he whispered, pulling you closer as his mouth moved slowly against yours.
You gripped onto his shirt, moaning softly in response. You missed him too, terribly so.
He’d been gone more often than not recently, you’d even debated driving down to that old pizzeria just to see him.
He grabbed your legs and positioned them around his waist before grabbing your hips to rock you against him.
His head fell back, lips parting from yours as he moved you how he pleased. You hid at his neck, one hand grasping arm as the other griped his shoulder.
You whined when he thrust his hips up against you, jeans hard against your soft pajamas. The friction had you squirming, a familiar throb forming between your legs.
“Wanna fuck you,” he groaned, reaching down to slide his hand in your cotton shorts. He swiped his middle finger along your wet folds, rubbing at your pussy a little before slipping his finger into his mouth.
“M’ gonna fuck you,” he said, voice strained in a hush, “right now.”
You whimpered at the promise, letting him lift you up and carry you to his bed. He carefully kicked the door shut behind him, the action silent and swift before he laid you onto his bed.
He stripped you of your shorts and panties, leaving you in only his large, plain shirt. You bit back a moan when his hand went back to your cunt, middle finger pushing into your slick heat.
Mike cursed to himself, dick straining in his pants as he fucked you with his finger, soon adding another, rubbing and pushing into you.
Your body was hot and aching, walls clenching around his digits. You were close, oh so close when he stopped entirely.
“Please,” you nearly cried, pleas silencing when his cock replaced his fingers. The stretch of it both painful and pleasurable.
He hadn’t even bothered taking his jeans off, wanting too badly to feel your warm, wet pussy around him.
He moaned into your shoulder, “So, so good baby.”
His thrusts were slow but rough, each pushing you further into the mattress as he intertwined his hands with yours.
It didn’t take long for him to speed up, fucking you just as he’d said he would. You were a flustered mess, holding back moans after each meaningful drive into your cunt.
You squeezed around him, eyes shutting as your hands tightened their grip on his. Your hips moved up into his, needy and wanting.
He leaned down, lips pressing against your ear as soft huffs escaped his mouth, “That’s it princess, want you to cream on my cock.”
His words sent you over the edge, pussy milking him as you came undone. He ground down onto your clit, thrusting into you until he pulled out and shot hot ropes of cum on your stomach.
He let his body engulf you as he rest on top of your smaller form, the weight was comforting.
“Wish I would’ve done that weeks ago,” he mumbled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck.
You yawned, fingers playing with his as a smile crept onto your lips, “Me too..”
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brownbearwrites · 4 months
Text
cupid sent me on a mission (that's got me sitting, wishing, waiting)
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mike schmidt x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ MDNI. soft smut, praise. no spoilers for the movie, no use of y/n.
word count: 617
read it on ao3 here.
It’s the sound of your door softly creaking open that first wakes you, your eyes groggily fluttering open. It’s still dark in your shared bedroom, so you hear more than you see Mike gently making his way in. Behind him, the bedroom door closes with a click. You let your eyes fall shut once again, hearing him strip down to his boxers before he slides into bed next to you. Your sleep-warmed body melts against his. You hum in appreciation as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.
“G’morning,” you whisper, unwilling to break the gentle softness of the moment.
You feel Mike’s steady breathing against the side of your neck, “Good morning, pretty girl,” he answers you in a voice equally soft.
His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close against him. He caresses the soft skin of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up, his fingers just barely brushing the waistband of your underwear.
“How was Abby last night?” he asks.
You gently smile at his concern for her, ever the responsible older brother. “She was an angel, didn't even throw a fit when I told her it was bedtime”.
You feel Mike's contented hum against your neck, his lips moving to press hot wet kisses over the stretch of skin. You sigh into it, moving your head off to the side to give him more space to work with.
“How did I get so lucky, huh?” he wonders aloud, “getting myself such a sweet, pretty girl like you to come home to every day”.
You begin to answer him, but your words catch in your throat when his hand dips past the elastic of your panties, his fingers trailing through the wiry hairs on your mound to settle on your clit. He begins rubbing soft, sleepy circles against it — just enough pressure to make your breath quicken. He continues to kiss the column of your neck, tongue licking and teeth scraping, to form bruises that you'll have to explain away later in the day.
You begin to move your hips in time with his touches, the slow movement making the springs in your bed creak ever so softly. His fingers dip lower, gathering some of your slick before returning to rub at your clit, the slide of his digits now even easier with the added wetness.
“Been thinkin' about this all night,” Mike confesses, “Couldn't stop thinking about how you feel pressed against me, about those pretty sounds you make”.
You shudder against him, his pace getting quicker now, his fingers rubbing against you almost desperately. A moan slips past your lips, muffled against your pillow. You feel his hardness press against your back, a steady reminder that he, too, is enjoying this. You press your hips closer against his, providing him with something solid to grind against.
“Always so good to me,” Mike moans into your skin.
His hips and fingers move in tandem against you, and before long you find the muscles in your lower stomach tightening, your legs clenching around the steady press of Mike's fingers against you. You let out a whine that — in any other circumstance — would have been embarrassing, and you find it answered by Mike's own soft moans. Your pleasure crests, your orgasm washing over you, leaving you a trembling mess in the safety of Mike's arms. You barely register Mike's choked groan and the following warm wetness that's suddenly leaking against your behind.
The room is still as dark as it had been when he first entered, though the silence is now broken by your shared heavy panting and soft satisfied laughter.
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forever-rogue · 11 months
Note
Not kissing steve because Mike made a comment about how too much pda is gross and the poor guy is so confused and lost and desperate to kiss you and he asks you sadly whats wrong and tries to fix it. (With lots of make up kisses and steve not caring what Mike says)
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AN | No, but I love this idea, especially Mike being a lil shit 🥺
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.7k
Masterlist | Steve, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Steve Harrington was an affectionate person. He always and more than likely always would be. It was one of the many things that you loved about him; he wasn’t afraid to be outwardly touchy and feely and never missed an opportunity to kiss or hug you, to hold your hand, or just be near you. And you would never, ever, turn down anything from him, even if it was just a simple in passing. 
You never thought much about it, letting it just happen. You were sure that his affections were nothing out of hand but that all changed one afternoon, thanks to Mike Wheeler. The lot of you were at the fair, currently standing in line for some random fried food stand. Steve was standing behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. You loved the feeling of him being all over you especially as he pressed lazy kisses to your warm, sunkissed skin. 
It wasn’t until you were next in line that Steve let go of you, turning to order for both of you. Mike scoffed and shook his head. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “what’s wrong, Mike?”
“You guys are so gross,” he groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, “you’re always all over each other, just calm down. We get it. You’re madly in love with each other, great, fantastic.”
“Mike,” Dustin smacked his friend, as Max and Lucas were completely oblivious, “maybe you should calm down. Don’t be so jealous. Get over it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike flipped him off, “I forgot - if Suzy was here, the two of you would be equally disgusting.”
“Maybe you should stop being such a jerk-”
“Boys,” you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head at the kids, “maybe we can all stop being so…over dramatic? It’s all good, okay? We’ll try and tone it down and Mike, you can get the stick out of your ass.”
Mike scowled deeply and Dustin brought into a fit of giggles. He might have called you out, but you had to get him back. 
But  - it was a promise that you intended to keep, but it still managed to bring a small pout to your lips as you looked over at Steve. Ugh. He was so ridiculously handsome, but so easy and effortless and it made your heart swoon. He turned back to you, arms filled with fried goodness and a big smile on his face. You walked over to him, taking a few things in order to free up his hands. 
“Looks disgustingly delicious,” you grinned, “good choices, love.”
Steve nodded happily before leaning over to try and press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your head and quickly dodged the kiss, not saying anything but leaving him with a confused little look on his face, “angel-”
“Come on,” you looped your arm through his and started to lead him to one of the nearby picnic tables. You decided not to mention anything of what Mike had said to Steve, figuring that it would work itself out. Maybe if you toned it down for a few weeks he would eventually take the hint and stop being so outwardly PDA-friendly.
Steve, meanwhile, was trying not to read into anything, more so trying not to freak out at the fact that you had rebuked his kiss. It was the first time you had ever turned down a kiss. But he was sure that it was not something that would keep happening. Right? Right. You were his girl, his honey, his baby, his angel, and you’d never stop loving him. Or so he hoped. Maybe you - no. He was not going to panic or worry too much - it was just one kiss. It would all be fine.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
But…it turned out to be more than just one little time. 
You’d started to pull more and more out of being physically affectionate with him. At least in public - behind closed doors things were the same as ever. If anything, you were almost more touchy and lovely when it was just the two of you. It just confused Steve. He was used to being so open with you all the time. 
“Hey honey,” Steve’s face lit up as soon as he spotted you walking into his backyard. You looked more gorgeous than anyone should have been allowed to, and caused some sinful thoughts to run through his head. He had to take a moment to compose himself, trying hard not to…well, get hard. You were wearing a cute little pink polka dot two piece, and he couldn’t wait to be alone and rip it off you. The little bow holding it together in the front of your cleavage was practically taunting him; you were like a present waiting to be unwrapped, “you look gorgeous.”
“Hi Stevie,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, admiring him in his trunks, so much of his warm, golden skin on display. You loved all of his freckles and couldn’t wait to map them all out later with your mouth, “you look good too, handsome.”
He practically melted under your praise as you reached over and took it hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You were fashionably late - you could thank your coworkers for that - and the last one there. But you were happy to see your friends. You knew that Steve was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to kiss him, or letting yourself be kissed by him. If he hadn’t been so attuned to you, or paid as close attention as he did, he would have missed the way you looked around nervously.
“Everything alright?” there was a note of concern in his voice as you looked back at him and shook your head, “you seem…”
Off. Different. Not wanting to touch me.
“‘m alright,” you promised and for the briefest of seconds, you reached up and touched his cheek, “do you need a hand with the food or anything?”
“No,” he shook his head lightly, disappointed but also not pushing the fact that you didn’t kiss him, “I’ve got it. Just relax and enjoy yourself, angel. Y-you’re still planning on staying tonight, right?”
“Of course,” you insisted happily, “wouldn’t miss a night with you, my love.”
“Good,” he nodded, almost more to himself than anything. He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, “I’m glad. I love it when you’re here. I love spending any time with you.”
“Me too,” you smiled sweetly. You grinned when you saw Robin and Nancy excitedly waving you over. You gave Steve a small shrug as if to say what can you do before heading over to him. He’d half expected a kiss but there was no such luck.
A deep, pretty little pout settled on his features as he watched you go. It was not lost on Eddie, who definitely teased him about him for the rest of the afternoon. All he wanted was a little kiss. Was that too much to ask for?!
-─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
And so it continued on, and it almost became normal that you weren’t going to let him be any sort of physically affectionate with you. It was slowly starting to wear on him; he loved you, adored you behind words, but he really just wanted to touch you. It wasn’t even anything inherently sexual, it was the sheer intimacy of being close to you and getting to feel the gentle delicateness of your soft skin on his, or to be blessed with the grace of your lips. 
But now, as the gang hung out at Phyllis’ diner, taking up two booths between you guys and the younger kids. You were next to Steve, as per usual….but you were sitting next to him as one would sit next to a friend, not a lover. You were normally tucked up into his side, thigh pressed against his, hands entwined or your head on his shoulder as you stole sweet, syrupy kisses from each other.
This evening, however, you simply sat next to him, keeping a little bit of distance between your bodies. He didn’t even try to argue or even mention it, instead taking it for what it was. You were spending the night at his place, as you did weekends, and he decided that he was going to ask you about what - or hadn’t - been going on lately. He was your boyfriend, your partner, you should have been able to tell him anything. And clearly right now, there was something going on. Steve was determined to get to the root of it…if nothing else, he wanted to make sure that you were okay. 
-─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Stevie,” you sighed his name softly as you flopped onto his warm, comfy bed. There was a big smile on your face as you stretched out and burrowed your face into his pillow, “this might be my favorite spot in the entire world.”
“You look like you belong there,” he agreed softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over and gently tugging on the hem of your dress. You often wore sweet little dresses, and they always managed to drive him crazy. It was something so simple but so innocently sinful, “you do belong there.”
“That’s because I belong to you,” you reached for his hand and gently tugged him towards you. He obliged your silent request, not wasting a moment before crawling next to you, laying down, his head just across the pillow from yours. You couldn’t help but reach over, touching his freckles with the tips of your fingers, “I love you, Steve Harrington.”
His entire being softened, big brown eyes gentle as he watched you. He swallowed thickly before taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. He listened to the way you softly inhaled at the feeling of his lips on your skin. A quiet fell over the two of you, as he ghosted his fingers along your features. 
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything,” you giggled lightly, “you’re the only one that gets to ask me anything, my love. What can I do for you?”
“Are we…are we okay?” he whispered so softly that you almost didn’t hear him. A frown tugged down the corners of your mouth as you tried to figure out where he could have gotten the slightest inkling that things weren’t okay.
“Of course we are,” you insisted, nodding your head fervently, “where did you get the idea that we weren’t?”
“I just…things have been different,” he pointed out and Steve could tell by the way your face fell that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You swallowed thickly but shook your head, “you can tell me anything. You know that - anything.”
“Nothing is…” you stopped yourself, unable to lie to him. You shifted so you were sitting up and Steve mirrored your gesture and sat there facing you. You sighed before hanging your head, “it….it was Mike.” 
“Mike?” he repeated in shock as you simply nodded at him, “what the hell did he do?”
“Nothing bad,” you put your hand on his arm and shook your head, trying to dispel any negative thoughts, “back at the fair, he made a few comments about PDA and basically…us. Us being too touchy and feely and open in public. He thought it was gross and I…I dunno it just kind of stuck with me.”
“That’s what…” he couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up as he shook his head, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, “you’ve avoided kissing me or letting me touch you in public because of the kid?!”
“When you say it like that…” you met his eye and couldn’t help but laugh too. It hadn’t seemed so irrational and weird at the time. Now it really seemed silly, “it didn’t seem bad at the time!”
“Baby, you’ve been practically killing me,” your boyfriend groaned playfully as you just shrugged sheepishly, “you wouldn’t even let me hold your hand! You denied me my kisses! I thought I might die.”
“Stevie,” you were both laughing now. His large hands found purchase on your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound that went straight to his heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re so dramatic!”
“Baby, baby, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “tell me it wasn’t hard to keep your hands off me.”
You couldn’t even lie or argue, instead giving in by softly pressing your lips against his. He practically sighed into your touch as he melted, kissing you just as softly and reverently. You pulled back, gently carding a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, “it was hard for me too.”
“Then let’s stop,” he suggested coquettishly, “and never not touch each other again. Whaddaya say, angel?”
“Yes,” you laid back against his pillow and pulled him on top of you, “and now, my love, please, please, please touch me. All over, as much as you want, but don’t ever stop.”
“I can do that,” he was practically melting as you stole some soft kisses from him, “I love you so much.”
“I love you, Steve,” you grinned, “now please touch me!”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You were the last to arrive at the game at the Wheelers’ house, having no one to blame but yourself. You’d taken too long getting ready, and lost track of time. But you looked very pretty, thank you very much, so it was all worth it. You let yourself into the Wheeler home, hearing the excited chatter and laughter from your friends. 
“Hello!” you greeted excitedly as you walked inside, met with happy waves…and then almost tackled by your overly enthusiastic boyfriend. He wrapped you up in a tight hug, twirling you around before kissing you softly. You beamed at the boy, wondering why on earth you’d ever willingly rejected this display of affection before.
“My angel,” he whispered against your lips, so soft and gentle, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” you promised, “and it’s only been like…twelve hours.”
“Doesn’t matter,” his hand found the side of your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’d miss you even if it was only an hour.”
“Ugh, stop being so perfect,” you playfully groaned. But you meant it - Steve really was a wonderful man, golden hearted and loving and you couldn’t imagine life without him, “if I loved you anymore, I’d probably explode from love and happiness and sweetness.”
“It’s just because I love you,” he pecked your lips before you both heard a loud throat clear from the living room. You pulled apart and turned to find Mike Wheeler standing there and looking between the two of you. He shook his head, but you could see that a small smile was playing on his features. 
“If you lovebirds are done, we’re about to start monopoly!” he motioned with his head for the two of you to join the rest of them. He paused for a moment, “it’s still disgusting! But it’s kind of cute how in love the two of you are.”
And with that, the boy turned around to join the others as you laughed quietly. Steve’s cheeks were a pretty pastel pink as he cleared his throat, “you’re in love with me, huh?”
“Duh, Stevie,” you grinned, “are you in love with me?”
“Duh,” he teased softly as he took your hand in his and you were practically glowing, “more than you’ll ever know, angel.”
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happy74827 · 5 months
Text
Emptiness Renewed
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[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: You figured all your concerns would go away now that you had the assurance with Mike, but the truth was… they weren’t disappearing. Not until you won and healed the relationship of your old friend, who happened to be his sister. {GIF credits: @owenhcrper}
WC: 2,733
Category: Lime/Steamy, Comfort, Slight Fluff
A lot of you wanted a sequel to “Fill the Void,” so here it is! You don’t have to read the first part, this can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want you can find the first part here
『••✎••』
Your hands found Mike’s waist and held on tight. His mouth was on yours, soft and sweet, his hand at the nape of your neck holding you in place as he kissed you over and over. He was all you could see, taste, and smell, and your whole body tingled with how good it felt. You were lost in the kiss, his mouth making promises of what was to come, and the warmth in your belly was growing.
When he pulled back you were dazed and breathless, and you blinked slowly at him.
He gave you a crooked smile, a rare thing that always made you melt, and his hand slipped down to cup your jaw. "I missed you."
You were still floating, your whole being focused on his hand at your cheek and his lips that you were missing already.
"I missed you too," you managed, and you saw the smile in his eyes before his mouth covered yours again.
He tasted like sweat and coffee, but the way his tongue slipped between your lips, hot and eager, made your whole body sing. Your arms slid up and around his neck, and his fingers tangled in your hair.
The kiss went on and on, the two of you breathing each other in, his arms tightening around you until he was pulling you closer. His skin was damp against your shirt, and his sweaty hair brushed against your face, but you didn’t care. You were lost in Mike's kisses and the way he made you feel, and if he wanted to keep kissing you like this all day, you would let him.
It was hard to believe you had been kissing for five minutes. It felt like hours, like years. The feeling of him pressing you back against the bed as he kissed you, the way your pulse pounded as his mouth explored your throat, his warm body covering yours and his hands exploring your body, made time slip away. It felt like nothing else mattered.
Mike was everything you thought about for weeks, and he was there with you, all yours. You hadn't even managed to get your shoes off yet and you didn't care. You were wearing clothes you didn't even like, but that seemed insignificant compared to what you had in your arms. You didn't want to think about anything else.
Your hands slid under the sweaty shirt clinging to his back, feeling the warm, smooth skin over his back and his muscles flexing under your fingers. His hips rolled against you and your eyes closed at how good it felt. His mouth found yours again, his kiss hard and fast, his tongue dipping inside your mouth. His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin, making your skin burn.
“Did you have that talk with Abby?” You whispered against his lips, your hands stopping to rest on his shoulders. You knew this wasn't the right time to ask, but it had been bothering you ever since that day in his room.
Mike's eyes flickered open, his dark gaze focused on your face. His hands slid up to cup your cheeks. "It's not really a talk when she just yells at me," he replied, and you had a feeling he was just trying to make you feel better.
"Did she?" You couldn't help but smile.
Mike's gaze shifted from your eyes, down your neck and to your chest, where he rested his forehead against you. You let out a small, nervous laugh, but his silence was starting to worry you. "Mike?"
He gave a small shake of his head. "It's not a big deal."
"Did she give you a time-out?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood, but when Mike's eyes closed, your stomach sank.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, and your hands slid out from under his shirt and into his hair. "Mikey?" You asked softly.
His dark hair was mussed up from your hands and he sighed. He lifted his head to look at you again, and his lips were pulled down into a frown. "She told me she didn't want me to date you," he finally replied, and you felt your chest tighten.
"Why?" Your voice was so quiet, so unsure, and Mike's expression softened. His thumb brushed over your cheek. Not that it was what you wanted to hear, but at least it wasn't the 'I can't be with you' that you were almost expecting.
Mike's gaze flickered away again, as if he were trying to think of what he could say that wouldn't hurt your feelings. He wasn't going to be able to come up with anything.
"She really does just hate me," you said, more to yourself than Mike, and you could feel the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. You were too scared to look at him, so you just focused on his hair in your hands. You ran your fingers through it, smoothing it out.
Mike shook his head. "She doesn't hate you. I know she doesn’t."
"Yeah, that’s what you said earlier." You pulled your hands from his hair and held them at your chest. "Why else would she say that?"
Mike let out a long breath. He closed his eyes, and his thumb stroked your cheek again.
"I don't know,” he whispered. He was so quiet you almost missed it. “But what I do know is that I’m not listening to her."
“Abby isn’t going to appreciate that.” You knew she wasn't. It wasn't Abby you were worried about though. You were worried about your relationship with Mike. You didn't want it to be ruined because of something that Abby couldn't seem to let go of.
Mike sighed again, and his fingers brushed your jaw as he moved in close. His hand slid behind your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I don't care," he whispered.
"Abby-" You tried to argue, but Mike interrupted.
"She’ll come around eventually," he assured you, though he sounded unsure. He brushed his lips over your cheek. "I have faith in you," he whispered against your ear.
“That’s a lot of faith given how she treated me when you left for work. I’m surprised I got out unscathed,” you said with a forced laugh, but you could feel the small smile on his lips against your cheek.
He pulled back, but kept his hands on your cheeks, his gaze moving from your eyes to your lips. "I was worse, remember? I almost ran you over by how agitated and tired I was."
You laughed, but the memory still made you shiver. "That is true."
He leaned in again, brushing his nose against yours. “Who would’ve thought I'd end up falling in love with the girl who made me want to rip out my hair and punch holes in walls?"
Your chest tightened again. "Really? I annoy you that much?"
“Like a mosquito, constantly buzzing around my ear." He whispered. His eyes flickered down to your mouth again, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart began to race. “But somehow I can't bring myself to shoo you away."
"Oh gee, I'm so flattered," you said with a laugh, but Mike didn't join you. Instead, he just smirked.
"I think I might like having you around too much," he whispered, his gaze shifting back to your lips again. You could feel his warm breath on your mouth and you forgot how to breathe.
"Too bad Abby doesn't feel the same," you muttered, but Mike just shook his head.
"She's just being a bit protective." He leaned in again, his mouth brushing against yours. Your whole body tingled as you held your breath, and Mike's hands slid to your jaw. His thumbs stroked your cheeks.
"I don't need her protection," he whispered, his voice a deep, husky growl.
You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "Is that so?"
"Mhmm." His mouth was on yours, his kiss gentle and warm. His fingers ran through your hair as you leaned into it, melting against him as your heart pounded in your chest. His mouth moved to your jaw, and then down your neck. You tilted your head back, your fingers digging into his hair, your lips parting in a gasp as his teeth teased your skin.
He started kissing you again, and you were so caught up in the kiss that you were caught off guard when his hand slid down your thigh. You were still wearing jeans and your shirt, and Mike's hand was suddenly there, tugging at the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes opened, but all you could see was him, his face hovering over you as his dark eyes looked down at your body.
Your chest was heaving as you stared at him, but his mouth was moving to your neck again, your pulse fluttering under his tongue. You felt his fingers in the waistband of your jeans, then sliding inside, and your eyes rolled back in your head at how good it felt.
“What if I drew her a picture? I know Abby loves art." You thought of how you and Abby would spend hours drawing together on her bed when she was younger, back when she actually appreciated you. You thought of her new obsession with painting and how much she loved it, but the idea of drawing a picture for her lured you.
"That's probably not a bad idea," Mike muttered, his hand stopping its movement inside your jeans. The kisses continued down your neck and chest though, and you couldn't help but smile. You missed Abby, missed how your relationship was before. It was hard, but maybe drawing a picture would be a good way to start.
“I could even do the background of the drawing in bright colors.” You knew she loved colors that popped, pink and purple had been her favorite for a while. Maybe upon glancing at it, she’d realize that you indeed cared.
"It sounds like you want to bust out the crayons now," he teased, his voice soft as his mouth trailed over your collarbone.
You rolled your eyes. "Don’t give me any ideas."
Mike just let out a low chuckle. It didn’t bother you that he was completely right, because you did want to actually color, but it mainly just made you wonder what your relationship would be like if you hadn't lost Abby, if she had been your best friend for so many years and not a bitter stranger who would rather ignore you than speak to you.
It made your chest ache, and Mike's lips on your body helped to take your mind off it, but it still weighed down on your chest.
"What if she doesn’t like it? I don’t think I can handle that type of rejection.” You felt so pathetic saying it, but you couldn't stop yourself.
Mike lifted his head. His dark eyes studied your face for a long time, but then he just gave a small smile. "I think she will."
"How do you know that?" You asked. "What makes you so sure?"
"Because she loves you," he said simply, as if he were telling you the sky was blue or the sun was shining outside. You stared up at him, speechless. "She loves you more than anything, and I know she doesn't hate you. I don't believe it for a second."
Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight. "Mike-" You started, but he silenced you by covering your mouth with his. The kiss was hard, passionate, and when he pulled away, your breathing was ragged.
"I think you need to start trusting me, trust my judgment," he whispered, and he started kissing you again, his mouth trailing down your neck. His hand slipped under your shirt, his palm sliding up your belly. Your stomach fluttered, but you couldn't take your mind off how you felt, the way it weighed down on you and made your chest hurt.
"What if she does hate me?" You whispered, your voice cracking. Mike stopped, and he rested his chin on your chest. He lifted his gaze to yours.
"I know her," he said. "And I know you."
"That doesn't always mean something." Your voice was barely audible. You let out a long breath. You were trying to think about how to get her to come back to you, but the thoughts were just jumbling in your head. "I'm worried about what I'm going to do if she still won't talk to me. I don't know what that'll mean for me and you."
Mike sat up. His hand rested on your belly. You looked up at him, and his dark gaze studied your face, his eyes filled with concern.
"You have nothing to worry about, okay?" He whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Everything's going to be fine."
"Mike," you whispered, but he just shook his head.
"I'm serious. I don't care what she says." He cupped your cheek. "But you need to stop worrying about that."
"I can't." You felt so helpless. "You know I can't."
He gave you a sad smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I know."
You reached for his hand, but you could feel it starting to shake. You slipped your fingers into his, your thumb running over the back of his hand as you gazed up at him.
He smiled down at you. "But maybe you should start focusing on us instead." He suggested, giving you a mischievous smirk.
"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his mouth to his eyes again.
"Well, I still have about an hour before my shift. Maybe you can keep my mind off work and I’ll keep yours off of Abby."
“That’s…an idea I like," You whispered, and Mike chuckled. He kissed you again, his mouth hot and needy. You were losing your breath again, and he rolled on top of you. Your body was tingling, and you ran your hands up under his shirt to touch his warm skin.
He wasn’t wrong. For that remaining hour all you could think about was him, and he seemed just as focused on you. It actually eased your mind, and when it was over you felt better.
After Mike left for work again, you immediately got started on your little drawing project. You didn't know why it was so hard to just color something, but you were determined. You kept telling yourself Abby would appreciate the effort, and Mike was right, you just had to believe in him.
When Abby returned from school the following day, you were waiting with a smile on your face. It wasn't much, but it was bright and happy. You couldn't imagine it looked good, but at least it was something.
However, Abby didn’t respond. In fact she didn’t even look at the drawing you handed to her. Her face remained blank as she took it and walked away, her shoes echoing down the hall.
Your whole body deflated, and you sunk into the couch. Great, another failed attempt. You thought about calling Mike, but you didn't want to bother him when he was busy, so you just closed your eyes and laid there for a while, wondering how long it would be until he was back from doing errands.
You left his house saddened and disappointed, and you couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone when Mike had called later that day. You just curled up under the blankets in your bed, feeling even more hopeless than before.
Though, if you had picked up that phone, you wouldn’t have been feeling this way because unbeknownst to you, Mike had gone into Abby’s room for a spare pen and discovered that she hadn't thrown out your drawing.
In fact, it was taped to her mirror, where she could see it every time she looked into her own eyes. Underneath it was a crumpled up piece of paper with a crudely drawn stick figure of Mike and a crudely drawn one of you. Both had little hearts next to their faces.
He was totally going to give you the “I told you so” about Abby come tomorrow, but for the time being he just couldn't help but smile.
This was for you guys:
@raviolisblog
@kxllanxtdoor
@nagicats
@auryyz
Hope it met your standards 🫶✨
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wynnyfryd · 4 months
Text
Trailer park Steve AU part 33
part 1 | part 32 | ao3
Chapter 8
cw: period-typical attitudes/language
"Steve," Robin hisses through the phone, and he can practically hear her nostrils flaring. "I have been trapped at Uncle Bobby and Aunt Deb's house for six. days." She drops her voice to a harsh whisper, the tone somehow even more disapproving at a lower volume. "HOW have you not kissed him yet??"
"It's not like I didn't try!" Steve throws his hands up; nearly knocks his broom to the floor. He's finally sweeping up the shards of glass in the living room, because he's tired of wearing shoes in his own house (and because at some point he's going to have to have the kids over whether he wants to or not. He's kind of surprised Erica hasn't shown up demanding to hang Christmas lights yet; that girl is aggressively festive.) "He was all 'ask me in the morning,' so I was gonna ask him in the morning! Not my fault it was Monday morning and his stupid uncle barged in yelling about how he was going to be late for school."
"You really shouldn't call him stupid," she interrupts, "that man is a saint."
"No, you’re right. Wayne's awesome."
It’s true. Wayne walked in on them that morning, like, fully spooning in their sleep — Eddie pressed all along Steve's back with an arm over his waist, their ankles intertwined — and rather than beat Steve's ass and ban him from their house like Steve expected him to, he just awkwardly grunted 'breakfast is ready' and shut the door.
"I'm always right," Robin gloats in his ear.
"You're always the worst."
"You love me." Steve hears shuffling as she adjusts the cord — probably wiggling around to lie on her stomach on the bed and kick her feet up in the air the way she likes — and then she says, "I'm still not seeing how this explains the other five whole days, though."
Jesus. Five whole days. Like she's his unimpressed boss and he’s late with the quarterly reports. "Our schedules kept not lining up! And then he went out of town with Jeff's family for the holiday."
"And you haven't called him?"
Steve glares flatly at the phone; hopes she can feel it through the line. "Literally how would I do that, Robin?"
"Well— I don't know! Maybe..." She hums in thought then snaps her fingers, talking fast. "Ooh! You could ask Wayne for the number? I mean, he'd have to know it in case he needed to reach Eddie, right?"
"Uh huh." Steve loves her solution-oriented brain, he really does, but that's one of the worst ideas he's heard in a while. (And he's including Mike and Dustin's attempted kidnapping last month.) "Yeah, let me get right on that," he snarks, switching the phone to his other ear. "I’ll just call them up and say, 'Hey, Mr. or Mrs. Jeff's Grandparents! This is Steve Harrington, may I—? Oh. Who's Steve Harrington, you ask? Nobody, sir or ma’am, just the kid who stood by and watched while his teammates gave your grandson a swirlie two years ago, so I'm sure he fucking hates me still for that! Anyway, can I please flirt with your house guest now?'"
Robin's whinnying into the receiver by the time Steve finishes his rant, and he begrudgingly laughs along with her, shaking his head as he stoops to pick up the dust pan.
"Okay," she concedes. "You may have a point."
"Thank you."
"But you still have to do something to make up for this when he gets home! Otherwise, he's going to think you're, like, having a straight boy crisis or something and get all weird."
"I'm not having a 'straight boy crisis,'" Steve rolls his eyes. He's having a bisexual boy crisis — at least, according to the three hour phone call he had with Robin the other night (which was humiliating, by the way; he never thought he'd be quietly crying tears of total confusion while saying the words 'I still likes boobies, though' out loud. Jesus Christ. Sexuality is embarrassing.) "And I already have a grand gesture in mind, anyway."
"Oh?" Robin perks up. "Do tell."
"I was thinking we could, like..." Hmm. It's sounding less grand when he goes to say it out loud. "Well, shit, I don't know. I thought we could go to one of his shows together when you get back, but now that sounds kind of lame?"
“No, that's good! That's perfect, actually. We can get a whole group together to go support him, then he'll see that you're not embarrassed to be seen around him with your friends."
"Wait, was that a concern?" Oh, god. He dumps more glass into the trash can; hisses when a little shard gets his fingertip; sucks the wound into his mouth. "Are you sure it’s not-? I mean, I want him to know I mean it in a romantic way, not just a friendly gesture."
"Well, yeah, obviously. But you can't just go by yourself; his bandmates hate you."
Oh, right. “Yeah.” That would be pretty awkward to loiter in a booth by himself all night while Jeff and Gareth and the other kid glare daggers at him. "Do you think you could get a group together? If I do it…"
"…We'll be hanging out with a group of dorky freshman all night?”
"Rude."
"Accurate."
"You know what? Tell Deb and Bobby they can keep you."
"Ah!" Robin gasps. "You would turn to stone like a troll in the sun without me, and you know it!"
Man, he misses her. "Yeah, I know it." He puts the broom back up on the hook. "When ya comin' home?"
"Soon, I hope. I swear to god if I have to hear Deb and Patty fight over the leftovers one more time—!" She cuts herself off with a strangled noise, and Steve laughs at her plight. "Anyway, yes. I'll ask some friends at school—"
"—Is one of those friends Vickie?"
“I can multi-task; shut up."
"I love you," he smiles.
"Love you, too, dingus.” Her voice dips soft and sincere for just a second; there and gone. “Hey, I have to go, Carrie wants the phone.”
“You have too many relatives.”
“Ugh, I know. Okay. Leaving for real now; can't wait to see you for Operation Woo Your Man!”
"Robin, no-!”
“Got to go byeeeee.”
“We’re not calling it that!” He holds the phone out with both hands so he can yell into the receiver. “Robin? Robin!"
The line's already dead.
part 34
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
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finalgilmoregirl · 4 months
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your newest mike fic has me dead on the floor omg. can you please write something with grumpy mike and his sunshine reader?
a/n : i love this concept it’s such a classic, leans towards fem!reader but no she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, lots of fluff and a smidge of angst
☆ moments in grumpy!mike x sunshine!readers relationship :
1 ౨ৎ putting on performances with abby. for a child her age, an active imagination is a given. however with the kinds of things she has experienced in her life, the possibilities are truly endless. it's not uncommon for mike to come home and see that the living room has essentially been transformed into a broadway set. and even though he's often coming home from a long shift, exhaustion be damned, you and abby still sometimes manage to wrangle him into the worlds you've created.
if you and abby are the knights of opposing royal courts, he is the jester. if you two are witches, he is the evil henchman. if you're competing fighters, he's the referee. if you two are ballerinas, he is the judge (and he always chooses you as the winner).
but no matter how many times you and abby tell him that he has to do the voices too, he still won't learn. he's essentially just an audience member of your theatrics, sitting on the ground in whatever costume one of you have placed on his shoulders and simply trying to fathom how to two people can have so much energy at the end of the day.
2 ౨ৎ grumpy!mike is your own personal bodyguard. although your sunny aura is extremely welcoming on its own, the constant frown on his face is enough of a signal for a person to turn and walk the other way the moment they notice him next to you.
he's often uncomfortable in public, too aware of his surroundings and overanalyzing everyone's actions. this results in his having a hand on you at all times to calm his nerves, whether that be with your hands clasped together, his hand on your waist or his arm around your shoulder. at first glance the two of you could look like complete strangers that just happen to be in close proximity to each other, but the second mike turns to look at you and his expression softens, it's obvious the two of you are in love.
3 ౨ৎ for the first few weeks of you and mike getting to know each other, he’d never really smiled. sure, he was always kind and polite but the most he would give to express joy was the raise of his eyebrows and the tiniest bit of an amused smirk. so of course when you had been in the middle of recounting a story and mike had laughed, smiling with all of his perfect teeth on display, you were pleasantly shocked.
"so that's what that looks like." you grinned at him, earning a tilt of his head in return.
"what does what look like?" he asked.
"your smile." mike was quick to blush, coughing and looking down for a moment to try and regain his original composure, but before he could feel too embarrassed you continued, "i like it, you should do it more often."
from then on you couldn't get enough of his smile, always trying to make him laugh. which as serious as he is, deep down he lived for it, just basking in your joy and the fact that he was the cause of it.
4 ౨ৎ that being said, mike has a bit of a temper and you know that, taking his waves of bad moods in stride and trying your best to cheer him up, but sometimes he gets so riled up that there’s only so much you can do to help, and mike loses patience.
it’s very rare when he snaps at you and when he does he almost immediately regrets it after seeing how it effects you.
the ever-present smile you hold that has the power to lift everyone’s spirits falls in an instant when one of his outbursts catches you off guard. your eyebrows furrow and you look down to try to keep your own composure. you know he’s not actually mean, at least never to you. you pushed him too hard, you think to yourself and it’s in this moment that mike snaps out of his rage, like a demon that was possessing him had left his body and all he feels is his heart ache.
here you are, the light of his life and he’s the reason you’re not smiling. he rubs his palm over his forehead and reaches out for you, “fuck, i’m sorry” he sighed, “i don’t know why i yelled”
you feel his hand hover over your shoulder and look up, seeing his face full of regret. you reach your hands up and hold his face, which mike immediately melts into, his hands moving to hold your waist. he grabs you tight, desperate even, thinking that if he lets you go you'll leave and he'll lose you for good.
“i know baby. you’ve just had a bad day, i shouldn’t have pushed you.” you sympathize with him, to which he shakes his head.
“yeah but that’s not an excuse, you just wanted to help and—" he pauses and sighs, disappointed with himself, "i’m grateful for that. i love that you care about my problems, no matter how stupid they are.”
you smile gently at his confession, and a weight is lifted off of his chest.
“they’re not stupid. plus, i know you’d do the same for me. you can groan all you want about it but deep down you’re the biggest softie i know.”
mike rolls his eyes playfully, and leans his forehead against yours, “only to you.”
you giggle and connect your lips to his, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away and whispering, “yeah, i’d hope so.”
thanks for the request ☆
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omfg i’m so in love w your writing 😭 i’d like to request a harvey fic, maybe where they j have a secret relationship, but really everyone knows cause he j goes so soft around the reader (and maybe they get caught making out too, any spice you can add is awesome) tysm!!<3
Thanks, buddy! Here you go :)
Warnings: Smooches?
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"Harvey."
"Mm?"
“Are you going to make yourself useful, or are you just going to stand there?”
“I may just stand here. I’m enjoying the view.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as you shove a box back into its place on the shelf and draw the next out. You pop the top, beginning to finger through the files.
“There’s nothing else that you could be doing right now?” You press.
“Jessica told me to stop hanging around her office.”
“See, that’s strange to me, Mr. Specter.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want me around?”
“Can’t exactly say you’re being particularly helpful hanging around here right now.”
“I’m not going to help an associate.”
“But you are going to nag me until I’m finished in here? For what? Just to slow me down?”
“How else am I supposed to get my kicks?”
You roll your eyes, drawing a file out of the box and replacing the lid before you push it back into place. You turn, starting past Harvey, only to slow, then still as he grasps your wrist.
“Harvey,” You warn softly, glancing between the shelves. There’s no one else from what you can see, but that doesn’t mean that other people won’t come in.
“Just wait a minute,” He murmurs. His hand slides from your wrist to smooth over your waist. You bite your lip, allowing yourself to lean back against him.
“I have work to do.”
“I’ll let you get back to it in a minute.”
“What’s gonna happen in that minute?”
“You tell me.”
You can’t help but smile as he turns you to face him. His gaze skates your face for a moment before he leans in, pressing his lips gently to yours. For a moment, you let yourself forget how much trouble you could be if anyone walked in right now.
If it were Louis, he’d nail you to the wall—he’d make your life hell, try to goad you into quitting for being Harvey’s little girlfriend—you can practically hear him sneering it now.
If it were Jessica, you’re almost certain you could be let off with a warning, and Harvey would be given a hell of slap on the wrist. She’s already given you curious looks, sidelong gazes when Harvey has openly watched you as you leave a room. She’s asked you about your workload, and the cases tangentially involving Harvey have always had far more pointed questions.
If it were Mike, you’d get a hell of a lot of teasing. He has his suspicions about you and Harvey, sure. He’s asked joking questions, but there’s always been a thread of truth in them. You’re certain that Harvey has confirmed it to him, but maybe Mike thinks that Harvey is taking him for a ride, that there’s no way you’re gotten together with a senior associate when you’ve only just arrived at the firm.
If it were Rachel, you’re certain that you would be teased mercilessly. You know that she knows—that Donna found out, and that the fact has almost certainly been shared with Rachel. Rachel’s never asked you about Harvey outright, but she’s given you sly smiles and winks.
Donna hasn’t asked you about Harvey so much as offered tips—when he’s in a good mood, a bad mood; when he’s hangry; when he’s got his nose to the grindstone and is up against a deadline.
You can’t help but giggle as Harvey steers you back toward a shelving. He grasps the folder in your hand, shoving it onto the shelf behind your head before he takes your face in his hands. You moan softly, reveling in the feeling of his suit jacket as you slide your arms around his shoulders. You really ought to go, but as Harvey teases his tongue between your lips, you’re almost certain that you won’t be leaving anywhere any time soon—
“Ahem.”
You jolt, nearly biting Harvey’s tongue as you draw back from him. Your face goes hot as you spot Donna at the end of the aisle, her arms crossed around her chest as she cocks a brow at the two of you.
“Louis is looking for that file," She nods toward it, "And he’s on the warpath.”
“Oh, shit.” You turn, straightening your clothing and turning, grabbing the file and hurrying toward the door. “Thanks, Donna!”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t get a thank you?” Harvey calls after you as you reach the door.
“Absolutely not!”
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mxchxelschmidt · 5 months
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A Mike schmidt x reader where neither of them sleep but he comes home from work early one night and they both go to sleep together 😭💕
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the sleep deprived power couple! ty for this!
You and Mike worked well together. You had similar habits and shared interests. You also both had a bad habit of being insomniacs. Whether it was due to your own problems or the fact that the only job he could get was on night shift. Your sleep schedules were opposite. So when you were at work, Mike was supposed to be sleeping. While Mike was at work, you were supposed to be sleeping. It never seemed to quite work out that way.
Mike always found himself staring at the ceiling with his hands folded on his stomach, not sure what to do with his hands. He would lay there like that for hours before giving in and getting up. Abby was at school and you were at work, so it’s not like you would ever notice he wasn’t sleeping.
For you, it was laying in the bed rolling around and missing the weight of Mike in the bed next to you. You tried cuddling his pillow to pretend it was him. It never quite worked out the way you wanted it to. So you would go to the living room and watch tv knowing Abby was knocked out cold and would never know the difference. You would always get back into bed about 30 minutes before Mike got home so he could tag you out for the day to collapse into bed and go to sleep himself.
Tonight was no different for you. It was 3:30 am on the alarm clock when you heard the front door open. You simply rolled over pulling the blanket up over your shoulders and closed your eyes lightly. You heard the creaking in the hallway and the door opened a few moments later. All you hear is the rustling of Mike shedding his coat, pants and shirt. Moments later you feel the weight shift on the bed and an arm slides under your pillow and head, then an arm snakes around your waist and you can feel the sleepiness coming.
Mikes warm, and you immediately feel cozy in his arms. You roll over to face him and you can just make out his eyes in the dark room, ever so dimly lit by the red light of the alarm clock.
“Hey there stranger” he says quietly.
You would laugh if it didn’t feel like the truth with how little of each other you saw recently.
“I missed you.” You say and bury your face in his chest.
He holds you close and wraps his arms tighter around you. He rubs a hand across your back slowly and buries his face in your hair inhaling deeply, “I missed you too. Haven’t been sleeping so good recently.”
Your voice is muffled slightly, “Me neither..”
When you pull your head back from his chest he takes the hand around your waist and tips your chin up connecting your lips softly. They just brush every so slightly against each other and you let out a happy sigh. You missed this so much.
Mike soon rolls onto his back and leaves his arm resting under your head. You move to rest your head on his chest and he lets his arm tighten around you holding you close to his side. That’s how you two sleep for most of the night. Pressed together like a puzzle that fits just perfectly.
Another sleepless night turns into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks and instead of tagging you out in the morning, you wake up together and start making breakfast for Abby to have before school.
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trashmouth-richie · 11 months
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eddie x fem! reader
masterlist
w/c 7.8k
summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.
warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder
a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.
again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.
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“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”
The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.
She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.
When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.
“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”
“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”
“Yes I’m su—,”
Goddamn him.
Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”
“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.
“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”
Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.
“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.
“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”
“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”
Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”
Type A, that’s how she was.
“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”
Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”
-
The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.
“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.
Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”
“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”
Dating.
Dating Eddie Munson.
Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—
You’re sweating.
Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.
“W-we’re not dating, just—”
How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?
“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.
“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”
Friends.
Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.
-
[Two weeks prior]
The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.
Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.
The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.
“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.
An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.
He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.
Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.
“Ed—”
“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”
Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.
Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.
Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.
He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.
“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.
Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”
He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.
Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.
“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”
When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.
Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”
Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”
His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.
“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”
He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.
The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.
“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.
Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.
Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.
“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”
“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.
“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”
He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”
“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.
Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”
He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”
“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.
“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”
“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”
Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.
-
“Tooty, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.
You definitely were not fine.
Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.
At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.
Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.
By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.
Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.
Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.
-
[Thanksgiving Day]
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”
Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”
Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.
Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”
[2 Weeks prior]
🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day
I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay
Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.
He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”
Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.
His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”
Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”
“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”
“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.
“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.
“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”
Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.
Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.
Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.
Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.
Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.
With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.
-
The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.
Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.
[Thanksgiving]
“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.
“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”
Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.
The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.
Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.
Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”
“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.
Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.
Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”
“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.
The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.
And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.
How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.
It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.
He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”
-
[2 weeks prior]
His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.
The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.
He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.
He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.
A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.
Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.
A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.
-
A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.
The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.
“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”
His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.
He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.
Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.
“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”
Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.
Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”
“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.
“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.
“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”
A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?
Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”
A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.
“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”
And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.
Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.
His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.
You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.
He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.
He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.
-
[Thanksgiving]
A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”
Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.
The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.
“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”
Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.
“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.
Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”
Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”
Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.
“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.
He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”
-
The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.
It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.
Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.
Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”
Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.
“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”
His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.
“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.
Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.
“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”
Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.
“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.
Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.
Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.
Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.
To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.
In this moment, nothing else matters.
It’s just you and him.
Him and you.
The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.
Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.
Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.
He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.
But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.
Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.
No.
You were much more than that, to him.
More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.
He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.
You were it for him.
The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.
Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.
Yup.
You were it for him.
And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.
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hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥
@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷
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This is for you
*sacrifices 🖕🏼
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redskull199987 · 5 months
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What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?
Lifeless Stars
Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request
Word Count:1.6k
Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers
Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...
Masterlist
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You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets. 
And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.
Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.
With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.
 ‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.
So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.
The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.
With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.
A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.
“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”
You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.
“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.
“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”
You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.
With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.
With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.
“Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.
“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal. 
“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”
“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”
Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.
“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”
You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.
“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.
“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.
Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.
Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.
“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”
Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.
“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.
“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”
Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.
In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.
“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.
“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.
Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,
“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed,  a smile now also on his face.
Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…
Bonus:
Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.
 You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.
But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.
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dorapascalstyles · 5 months
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Summary: After a long day Mike finally comes home, where he can relax in his lover's arm's.
Warnings: None
Author's note: English is not my first language so sorry if i made mistakes in this but i hope y'all gonna like it🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 -D🍂
You were already dozing off on the couch when you heard the front door open, and you immediately know who came home. You sat up on the couch looking over at Mike. He looked exhausted like always, almost falling over from the tiredness.
-Hey.
You spoke first while he walked over to you.
-Hi.
He gave you a quick kiss on the mouth and sat down next to you.
-How was your day?
You ask him quitely not waiting for a long answer.
-Shitty.
You chuckled on his answer and wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in a hug. You two stayed like this for a minute, just breathing each other in.
You tried to help around the house as much as you can, because you know how hard it is to him. Taking care of Abby and himself while working a shitty job that's not even paying enough is hard. You cook for them, and help Abby with school stuff, while Mike can't, and you totally fine with that. You love them and that's only what matters for you, but of course Mike still feels guilty that you need to do all those stuff for him. He thinks that you think he's using you and that you hate him. Of course that's not true but he has that anxiety.
-Abby?
-She's asleep.
You told him while running your fingers through his hair.
-Did she eat?
-A little, but i made her cookies and she ate them all up!
You giggle while looking up at him from his chest. You can see the playfullness in his eyes, and the relief that she ate something even if not a lot.
-Thank you.
He says with a sigh.
-For what?
-For taking care of her while i can't.
-You don't need to thank me that, you know how much i love her!
You look him in the eye while running your hands up and down on his arm.
-No of course i have to, you help me so much, i don't even know how to thank you.
-Hmm maybe you can thank me with a bath.
You say playfully while pulling him off of the couch.
-I'm serious.
-I am too, now come on!
You pull him in the bathroom, and start to fill the bathtub with warm water, while putting vanilla scented bath foam in it.
-It's going to feel so good i promise.
You go up to him and start to undress yourself while he was just looking at you. Finally you stepped in to the bathtub and sat in the water, that was the time when he got undressed too and sat behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you leaned into his chest.
After 5 minutes of just being in the water, you sat up and turned around to face him.
-Let me wash your hair.
He just nodded, you reached for his shampoo and poured a little in your palm. You rubbed your hands together to make the shampoo fuzz up and started to massage his scalp. He immediately leaned into you and let out a groan.
-That feels so good!
You just smile at his reaction while doing different massage techniques that you saw on the TV, and when you finished, you moved him down a little so you can wash the shampoo out of his hair. The whole time he was looking at you, just admiring your face. How did he deserve you? he though to himself. Mike never, not even in his wildest dreams did think that he would know a person this loving, and caring like you. But he does and you love him, which is just more unbelievable for him. Abby adores you, and always talks about you when you're not around, and he's so happy about all of it. So nights like this really reminds him how lucky he is to have you.
-I love you.
He tells you while slightly touching the side of your face.
-I love you too.
You told him with a big smile, while leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is slow but it tells everything. How much he loves you, how thankful he is, the tiredness and happyness mixing together with proudness. You broke the kiss and told him to let's go to bed.
You two get out of the bathtub and he dries you, and then himself. You quickly get dressed while deciding to go and check on Abby, so you walk out of the bathroom and head to Abby's room. You peek in the room to find her peacefully sleeping in her bed. You hear footsteps from behind and an arm wrapped around your waist.
-She's good?
-She is. Sleeps like a bear.
You say while chuckling to yourself, you grab his hands and pull him in the bedroom, where you drop yourself on the bed from exhaustion and he's just giggling at you.
-Come on!
You put both of your arms up waiting for him to snuggle in them, and when he finally does you pull the blanket over the two of you.
-Sleep well, my love.
He tells you with a big smile while kissing your cheek.
-You too, love you.
You kiss his mouth.
-I love you.
He watches as you close your eyes and let out a sigh, representing how hard this day was.
He has hard days almost every day, but when he comes home to you he feels like a feather. With your loving heart you bring so much joy in his life, and he just loves every part of it.
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atinylittlepain · 8 months
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Crush On You
no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader
Hungry Hearts masterlist
The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?
warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace
wordcount | 9K
a/n | hi folks, i come bearing part two of my hungry hearts series. she's long, okay? i'm sorry, the spirit of young joel possessed me what can i say. hope y'all enjoy this one, come tell me what you think in my inbox! also much love, much thanks to my trenchcoat brother @northernbluess for beta-reading this baby - love you, cousin
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.....................................
“Well, well, look who has graced us with her presence. How’d you scare her out of hiding, Miller?”
“Oh, you know, black mail, extortion, a cattle prod.” Her scowl is lost on the pair as Mikey Donahue pulls Joel into a hug that’s more of a gruff back slap than anything else before promptly putting a beer in his hand. Meanwhile, she’s already regretting her decision to come along, trying to temper her grimace when Mikey hooks his arm around her shoulders to crush her into his side, grinning big and boozy down at her.
“Good to see you, big city. College suits you.” She has to laugh, seeing as Mikey didn’t have the time of day for her in high school and now he seems to be all too intent on laying the charm on thick.
“Thanks, Mikey, that’s real, uh, kind of you.” Before Mikey can reply with what she’s sure would be an equally charming remark, Joel curls his fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to pry him away from her, steering him further into the house.
“Alright, Mike, don’t scare her off, I just got her in the door. C’mon, man, I was promised a keg stand here.” All she gets from Joel is one more glance over his shoulder before she has been left entirely alone in a sea of her old classmates, with quite literally no escape route, considering she drove here in Joel’s rusted-out pick-up truck. 
She fields a few polite hellos, trying her best to move through the house as unnoticed as possible to get to the backyard and away from the smell of sweat and socially anxious bodies. Mercifully, there’s only a few people outside, couples all tangled up and people smoking around the edge of the pool. She forgot Mikey Donahue had a pool, though she supposes his parents were always notorious for their money and how visible they made it. 
This wasn’t her scene in high school, and it certainly isn’t now. Honestly, she’s not sure why she agreed to go with Joel in the first place. Oh yeah, Lisa-Anne. She kind of wishes she let Lisa-Anne have this one. 
“Hey, big city, there you are!” Mikey again, this time with no Joel to wrangle him off and away from her. He really is the quintessential all-american boy, home from some expensive east coast school that she can’t remember the name of, the whole blonde and blue eye thing, floppy and smiley like a well-bred golden retriever. She isn’t quite sure where this sudden chumminess with her has come from, they certainly didn’t run in the same circles as teenagers. But there isn’t much room to ponder it when he has once again slung his arm around her, his face so close to hers that she can smell the pabst blue ribbon he probably just tossed back. 
“Remind me what you’re studying all the way up in Chicago?” She knows for a fact that drunk Mikey has a temper, like, punching holes in the walls of his parents’ basement temper, so she makes no move to push him away, though she’d really like nothing more right now, trying and failing to create even an inch more of distance between them. Mikey doesn’t like that, dropping his arm to sling low around her waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin between her jean shorts and where the fabric of her t-shirt has rucked up. 
“I’m studying English.” It comes out smaller and quieter than she would like it to, her throat tightening with something like panic at Mikey’s continued advancements. On his part, Mikey seems to find the whole thing amusing, tossing his head back in a hard laugh.
“That’s right, always a little bookworm, weren’t you? Tell me this, what the hell can you even do with an English degree, big city?” 
“You can do a lot of things with an English degree, Mike.” She’s just pissed off enough to finally yank out of his grip, sending him stumbling a few feet back, though he’s quick to recover with a laugh that sounds a little less friendly. 
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, big city, so I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like that was just an accident.” 
“Hey, Mike, where’d you go, man?” She’s never been so happy to hear Joel’s voice in her life, she thinks, taking one more subtle step back as he sidles up next to Mikey and slings his arm around his shoulders. The light from inside the house casts shadows over Joel’s forearm where it’s draped against Mikey’s chest, and she can see the tendons jumping there from how hard he’s holding onto him, though it otherwise looks like a friendly embrace.
“Was just catching up with that one, Miller, so you can fuck right off, thanks.” And there it is. She feels herself wince with the bite of Mikey’s words, though Joel stays completely calm, a placid and altogether unsettling smile quirking up his mouth. 
“I think you’ve had enough to drink, man. Why don’t you leave the nice girl alone and go sleep it off before you do something you’re gonna regret?” She should probably do something other than stand there and stare at what is probably, definitely about to become a bad scene, a small crowd starting to form around them already. But she feels frozen where she stands, her eyes darting between Mikey’s sneer, and Joel’s ticking jaw. 
“And who’s gonna make me regret it, Miller, huh? You?” Because they are apparently still children, the crowd of people let out a low chorus of ooooh at that. And then for a moment it’s perfectly silent and perfectly still, Joel and Mikey staring each other down in a strange, half-way thing between an embrace and a strangle-hold. But by the time she blinks again, the both of them have swung, Mikey missing and Joel making clipped contact with the side of Mikey’s jaw. It’s just enough to send Mikey stumbling back and over the edge of the pool, and because he’s still got a fist clenched in Joel’s shirt, he gets yanked in after him. 
The crowd is quick to disperse after such a disappointing climax to their little spat, and while Mikey hauls himself out of the pool on the other side like a drowned cat, she finds herself offering out her hand to an equally sodden Joel. He drips all over her sneakers when he gets out, his flannel clinging to his torso, damp and darkened, something she tries not to pay too much attention to. 
“You okay?” 
“I’m not the one who just fell into a pool.” He drags a hand through his hair to get it slicked back out of his face, water still dripping off the tip of his nose as he looks at her. For a moment, she thinks that he looks small, a slight shiver in his shoulders, his eyes wide and his lashes all stuck together. He looks young, and he’s looking at her and only her. 
“I’m fine, Cher, let’s get out of here, huh? This party is dead anyways.” With a quick shake back of his shoulders and a thumb swiped under his nose, that familiar front has already slipped back into place. But she’s fine with it if it means they’re going to get out of this place, letting Joel lead the barreling way back through the house, his sneakers squeaking and squelching with every step. And even though he looks ridiculous, dripping all over the hardwood floors of Mikey’s parents’ house, he keeps his chin tilted up like he owns the place and his shoulders squared off as broad as his leanness will allow, easily parting a path for them through the crowd and out onto the front lawn. 
Neither of them speak when they get into the car, leaving the radio off as the engine splutters to life and they start winding their way back out of the wealthy neighborhood. She wants to say something, to thank him, to ask him if he’s sure that he’s okay, but she can’t find the right words, twisting her hands in her lap and watching the way the truck’s headlights spill out over the road. 
“So you’re really going for it out in Chicago?” His voice breaking the silence startles her out of her simmering mind, and when she glances over at him, he only offers her a quick side sweep of his eyes before he focuses back on the road. 
“You said you’re studying English?” He heard that? How long was he watching her and Mikey?
“Oh, um, yeah, yes.” She keeps her focus on the knuckles of his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a subtle tension and flexion to his grip.
“Gonna be a big shot writer, right? That was always your dream, wasn’t it?”
“When I was a kid, yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up teaching, though I think my parents expect me to just wind up married and pregnant by the end of it anyways.” He snorts at that, shaking his head though he keeps his eyes on the road. 
“You were always writing stories, Cherry.”
“Uh-huh.” Honestly, she’s surprised he held onto that fact, the ratty composition books she carried around everywhere as a child, and well into her teens too. 
“Ever write one about me?” 
“Oh, sure.” 
“Wait, really?” His eyes finally dart over to her, eyebrows shot up his forehead and she has to bite back a laugh.
“Yeah, it was about your astonishing humility and non-existent ego.” She can barely get it out with a straight face, already dissolving into another laugh as Joel rolls his eyes at her dig. 
“Alright, alright, guess I walked into that one.” They’ve just pulled up in front of her house, Joel flicking off the headlights so her parents don’t notice. For once, she’s in no hurry to get away from him, an honestly foreign feeling as they sit in his truck. He’s still soaking wet, his hair starting to stick up every which way from how it’s drying, though he seems perfectly content to keep staring at her, something like a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 
“You don’t like being home very much, do you, Cherry?” 
“I really don’t, no.” She says it on a long sigh, no idea why she’s inclined to be honest with him like that. 
“How come?” 
“I feel like no one takes me seriously down here.” 
“I do.”
“Joel.”
“What? I do.”
“How can that possibly be true when you still call me a name that came from me snorting soda out of my nose?” 
“Okay, maybe originally it came from that, but that’s not why I call you it now, not really.”
“Please enlighten me then, why do you call me that?” His brow furrows for a moment, like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally answers.
“Because– because I just do, okay? But I do take you seriously, for the record.” She leans her head back on the seatrest, tilting her chin to look at him where he has his arm hanging over the steering wheel, his full body leaning and twisting toward her.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh, and I’m gonna want a signed copy of your first book.”
“Oh please.”
“I’m dead serious, Cher. I probably won’t read it, but I reckon it’ll be worth something when you get all famous and shit.”
“Lovely, Joel, thanks so much for that.” He shrugs, though his gaze stays steady with hers, and it happens again, that softening around the edges, that kid she remembers. And again, it’s gone in a flash, Joel suddenly leaning toward her in an unexpected way. And, well, she reacts before she can really think.
“Jesus! What the fuck, Cher?” He has bodily recoiled from her back into the driver’s side, his palm cupping his cheek where she just landed a hard smack with the flat of her hand. 
“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck? What the hell was that, Joel?”
“I don’t– I thought we were having a– a nice moment!” She goes to open the passenger side door, but Joel is quick to reach over and shut it again like a petulant child, eliciting a bitter laugh from her.
“We were until you pulled that shit. I’m not one of your little housewives that you can do whatever you want with.” This time, he doesn’t try to stop her when she clambers out of the truck, though he isn’t quite finished yet. 
“Oh c’mon, Cherry! This ain’t playing fair!” She quickly shushes him before he starts to wake up half the neighborhood with his exclamations, only staying close enough to the car so she can whisper yell back at him.
“I’m not playing, Joel. Do me a favor and just stay away from me, why don’t you?”
While Sarah may not be the strongest batter, which is okay because Joel is working with her on it most afternoons, she makes for a mean third baseman, though part of him secretly wishes she played shortstop more often. And though he’s usually busy shouting reminders and tips at her from the bleachers, Joel is a bit preoccupied today watching something else, or someone else is more like it. 
He’s never been so pissed at chain link fencing in his life for obscuring his view of her, standing in front of the bleachers with her arms crossed and her hip cocked out as she watches the game from behind sunglasses and a ball cap. But he’s also never been more grateful for the Austin swelter because it means that she’s in a tank top and jean shorts, and he’s pretty sure his mind is starting to short-circuit because it looks to him like Cherry picked up some tattoos in the last seventeen years. He can’t tell what they are from this distance, something wrapped over her right shoulder and down her bicep, and, fuck him, something on the top of her right thigh. So maybe he’s craning his neck a little to try to make out what the ink is, and maybe he should be paying more attention to the game, because when there’s suddenly some sort of scuffle on the field between the umpire and one of Sarah’s coaches, he has no clue what he missed. 
“That was an out, are you kidding me? She tagged her!” He’s sitting close enough to third that he’s pretty sure it’s Ellie, at least he thinks that was her name, who the umpire and the coach are arguing over whether Sarah got her out or not before she stepped on third. Yeah, definitely Ellie, because here comes Cherry from the bleachers on the other side. 
“Her foot was on the base when she tagged her, that wasn’t an out!” The umpire looks at Cherry with an amount of exasperation that tells Joel they’ve interacted before. Cherry, meanwhile, has her cap off and her sunglasses slanted down her nose to look at the ump with all the kindness of a parole officer.
“Ma’am please let us handle this and return to the bleachers.” He’s not sure why he decides to get involved, it’s not like he actually saw what happened. But the combination of it being Sarah who either did or didn’t get Ellie out and his own small desire to get a little closer to Cherry, regardless of the context, has him up off the bleachers and hooking his fingers through the chain link fence. 
“I’m pretty sure it was an out, I had a better view of it than you did, Cher.” Judging by the way she scoffs and shakes her head, he probably shouldn’t have called her that, though there isn’t much time to ponder that when she’s walking over to him and getting as up in his face as she can with the thin mesh of chain link separating them. 
“Don’t Cher me, Joel.”
“Mom, please, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure she got me before I tagged up.” Ellie and Sarah both look pretty ready for this situation to be over, huffing and rolling their eyes at their parents’ strange display. 
“Els, you are not out, okay? You’re gonna stay on third and the game is gonna get going again–”
“Always were a sore loser.” It just slips out, and it isn’t even true. He was the sore loser, and he knows it, and judging by the way Cherry whips back around to glare at him, he has just incurred her admittedly deserved wrath. 
“Oh, that is real rich coming from you, Joel Miller, you are–”
“Alright, folks, we don’t have time for this and I’m going to have to ask you both to wait in the parking lot while we finish this game.”
“What?” They say it at nearly the same time to the umpire, who just shakes his head at them and points toward the parking lot next to the ball field. 
“Both of you, out of here, or I’m going to disqualify both of your girls from playing.” Well, really no arguing with that, especially not when Sarah and Ellie are giving them both pleading looks from behind the umpire. Cherry doesn’t give him another look, simply mutters an apology to the umpire before heading off toward the parking lot. And all he can do is sheepishly follow behind her with his own apology and a gruff play well offered to Sarah who just rolls her eyes at him.
No, not exactly what he had in mind for their second meeting.
He probably shouldn’t, but since he already seems to be playing the fool, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose in approaching her where she’s sitting in the popped-open trunk of her minivan, her sunglasses pushed up to the crown of her head and her legs swinging idly over the lip of the trunk. 
“I’m, uh, sorry about all that.” Her eyebrows raise, a weary look that makes something hot and slippery curl in his gut, a little bashful under her gaze. 
“I am too, I guess. They probably shouldn’t let us on the field together, huh?” Her words crack a bit dryly with the curl of her smile, instant relief washing over him in mirroring her expression. 
“No, I reckon not.” She doesn’t say anything more, just scoots her hips to one side and pats the space next to her, an invitation he tries not to seem so eager to take as he sits down beside her. Close enough now that he can get a better look at the tattoo on her arm and her thigh. Something beating hard in his chest and tightening up his throat when he realizes that it’s a bouquet of chrysanthemums etched into her thigh. And on her arm, spiraling over her bicep and across her shoulder is a branch of a cherry tree.
There’s no other option on a Sunday. She wishes more than anything that there was, but she knows that everywhere else is closed. 
“Thatcher’s auto and towing, how can I help you?” She hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks, not since that night they went to Mikey Donahue’s party. She even started picking Will up herself for dinner to avoid having him anywhere near her, pointedly ignoring the his shouts of her name from the ball field whenever she does. So hearing his voice gives her pause, and she nearly hangs the payphone back up, but she really has no other option right now.
“Uh, hi, my car broke down and I need to get it towed.”
“Cherry?” 
“Um, yes?” There’s a long pause on the other end, though she’s pretty sure she can hear him let out a deep sigh. 
“Shit, okay, where are you?”
“I’m out by the new mall, um, I think right off of eighth street? I don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly it just sort of– gave out on me.” 
“Alright, I’ll be there in five, just stay right where you are.” 
“Well, I can’t exactly go anywhere else, Joel.” She can hear the sound of something metal clanging around in the background, followed by Joel letting out a low curse.
“Right, yeah, just hang tight.” With that, he hangs up with a quiet click, and all that’s left to do is walk the two blocks back to her car. Technically, it’s her mom’s car, her old station wagon that had been given to her as a graduation gift, dark green with wood paneling and a dent in the back bumper that she has somehow managed to hide from both of her parents for a year now. She gives the car another once over, definitely nothing wrong with her tires, and she’s not even going to pretend like she’d know what’s going on under the hood, so she settles against the side of the car door and bides her time watching the slow trickle of traffic pass by.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, another record-breaking day of heat, she’s pretty sure. At least it feels that way, her eyes set in a perpetual squint under the hard beat of the sun as she swipes at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her wrist. Though mercifully she’s not waiting for long when a truck with the Thatcher’s Auto logo on the side comes pulling up alongside where she had managed to park her car on the shoulder of the road. He hops out of the truck, dressed in a pair of coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, a white wife beater on top that’s smeared with grease stains, and she has to remind herself that she’s still pissed at him when his dimple pops with a sheepish smile as he approaches her, tugging the baseball cap off his head to run a hand through his hair before settling his hat on backwards.
“Hey, Cherry, um, how– how have you been?” 
“I’ve been better, Joel, considering that my car won’t even start.” Nope, she’s not going to give him anything else, setting her jaw in a hard line and jerking her chin back over her shoulder as if to say get on with it. Joel seems to take the hint, giving her a jerky nod before taking a quick look around her car. 
“Well, your tires look fine. Lemme pop the hood and see if it’s anything obvious.” She hopes more than anything that it is something obvious, that she isn’t going to have to drive back to the shop with him, but judging by the way Joel lets the hood close with a shake of his head, she doesn’t think she has gotten so lucky. 
“I don’t know, Cher, I think you’re gonna have to come back to the shop with me so I can take a closer look.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back a frustrated groan before she finally looks at Joel again. 
“Okay, fine, and how long is that gonna take, do you think?”
“Got a few other cars I have to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. You okay to wait at the shop?”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice, so yeah.” She waits in the cab of the truck while Joel hitches her car up, keeping her eyes flicked down and out of the passenger window when he gets back in. 
“You giving me the silent treatment?”
“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but she can hear the huff of a sigh he lets out before he cranks the truck into drive. He doesn’t try to talk to her for the rest of the drive, and she keeps her arms crossed pointedly in front of her chest, her whole body angled toward the passenger-side door. However, when they pull into the garage at Thatcher’s and she tries to get out, the lock on her door promptly clicks down and the handle won’t budge. 
“Can we just talk for a second, Cher?” She pries the lock back open, but just as soon as she does, Joel clicks it back into place, forcing her to finally glare at him. His brow is furrowed and his knee is bouncing in his seat, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that he’s nervous. 
“Fine, what is so important that you have to lock me into your truck like a goddamn serial killer?”
“Wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being so goddamn stubborn to begin with.” She lets out a clipped bark of laughter at that, once again pulling the lock up on her own to try to get out, and once again, like a deranged comedy act, he clicks it back into place before she can even get her fingers around the handle. 
“Joel Miller, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of this car right now I’m going to scream.”
“I just– just– fuck, Cherry, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” That gives her pause. There have been only two other times in her life that Joel has apologized to her. The first time was when they were eight years old, and really, she thinks, it shouldn’t count because his mom forced him to, her hand between his small shoulder blades nudging him forward to say sorry for pulling on her braid from the pew behind her at church and making her cry. 
The second time, they were ten. That one does count. She was sitting on the swings at the playground down the street, scribbling in her notebook when a little crew of boys in the grade above her came out of nowhere and started heckling her. Joel showed up on his bike as she was picking up the tattered pages and scraps of what had been the story she was working on in her notebook. She remembers that she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him when he knelt down beside her to help her gather the torn pieces, small hands trying to make it right. He had nothing to be sorry for, but he still said that he was real sorry, Cher, quiet, and sounding much older and wearier than a ten-year-old should. That one counts. But otherwise, those words coming out of his mouth have been non-existent, so she can’t help but fall silent to hear just what he has to say. 
“You’re sorry?” He takes off his cap again, setting it down on the dash of the truck and dragging his hand back through his hair, very clearly having to work himself up to saying it again when he finally looks at her.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened after Mikey’s party. I just– I thought that you–”
“Thought that I what? Did you really think I was going to be that easy, Joel?”
“What? No, if you would just let me finish speaking for Christ’s sake, I know that’s kind of difficult for you and your big mouth–”
“Wow, Joel, you really know how to apologize to a girl, huh?” With that, he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp curse that makes any other smart remarks fizzle out in her throat. 
“You know what, Cher? Just forget it. You can go wait in the office and I’ll have your car ready for you as soon as I can.” He finally unlocks the car door, and she’s more than happy to get out and slam it behind her.
“Fine.”
“Yeah, fine.”
“So is your wife not a fan of softball?”
“My what?” 
“Your wife, does she not like coming to games?” All he can do is laugh for a moment, pure disbelief at her question, and when he finally looks at her again, her brow still furrowed in confusion, he shakes his head with a huff.
“Is that like a funny question or something?” Just a little snap of annoyance behind her words, though he’s quick to respond, holding out his left hand in between them, his decidedly ringless left hand. 
“A little bit considering there is no wife.” It’s the middle of the fourth inning from what he can tell, still plenty of time for them to be not allowed on the field, sitting in the back of Cherry’s car. 
“Oh, but– was there one? I mean, Sarah’s mom?” 
“Uh, no, she’s not in the picture, at all.”
“I’m sorry.” 
“Don’t be. But, uh, what about you? I mean– is Ellie’s– is your, uh–” She cuts off his floundering with a nudge of her shoulder against his, a tight smile on her lips.
“Not in the picture.”
“At all?”
“Never, doesn’t even know Ellie exists.”
“Shit, Cher, that had to have been hard.” She laughs, a clipped sound in the back of her throat as she slides her sunglasses back down onto her nose, keeping her gaze out on the field in front of them. He quickly does the math in his head, pretty sure that Ellie and Sarah are the same age, something heavy and hot settling in his chest when he realizes that she would have only been twenty-two when she had her daughter, just like him. It’s an aching fact, one that his mind starts to swim with, though her voice pulls him out of it quickly.
“It definitely wasn’t easy, but I’d like to think I’ve done alright.”
“I’ll say, it seems like every year there’s a new book of yours in the news for being a bestseller.” She turns to look at him at that, her eyebrows raised and her lips parted before settling into a slight smile.
“Have you read any of them?” 
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His answer seems to stop her, her face falling behind the darkness of her sunglasses, though she’s quick to catch herself with a breathy humph before turning her eyes back on the field in the distance. He wishes he could tuck those words back in his throat, try that again if only to keep her eyes on him. 
“Are your folks still in town?”
“Oh yeah, dinner every Sunday with them still.” She hums, a light sound that curls with her smile, though she still doesn’t look at him. 
“That must be nice.”
“I think ma would throw a parade if she knew you were back in town.”
“Oh please.”
“I’m dead serious, Cher.” There, she looks at him again, her smile turning crooked as she nudges her shoulder against his, an easy moment that still makes his heart kick up in his chest. 
“And Tommy’s still around? Miller’s Construction, right?” He must have a funny look on his face when she says that because she laughs again, something warm and flushed creeping into her cheeks that makes his mind go a little fritzed. 
“I promise I’m not stalking you, I was just looking for someone to come fix some stuff at the new house. Sounds like you two have done well for yourselves.” His mind still hasn’t caught up, still such a strange feeling to have her here in the present, talking about these things in the present, all these normal, very grown up things. 
“Uh, yes, yeah, we do alright. Tommy is still a fucking nuisance, but it’s good work. What’re you looking to get done?” 
“I think my back porch is all rotted out, nearly put my foot through a plank the other day. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to redo the whole thing?” 
“I’d have to come take a look, but I could redo it for you, no problem.” He has already decided how much it will cost. Nothing, not for her, though he knows if he told her that now she’d scoff and get someone else to do it who would accept payment. He’ll save that fact for after it’s finished. 
“Alright, is there a number I can call to schedule an appointment?” Oh, oh, he’s not stupid enough to let this opportunity pass him by.
“Why don’t I, uh, give you my number? It’ll be easier that way.” He knows she knows what he’s doing, her lips pursing for a moment as if to consider it, but she still slides her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over to him. He has to think really hard about what his phone number is, typing it in with a small tremor in his hand that only gets worse when he gives her phone back to her with a barely there brush of their fingers. 
“Can I ask you something?”
“Maybe, what’s the question?” 
“Why’d you come back? I don’t know where you’ve been, Cher, but I can tell you that I never expected you to come back here.” Shit, he shouldn’t have asked that, because she’s not looking at him again, her chin tucking down as her mouth settles in a thin grimace.
“Honestly? I don’t know. We were in Chicago for the longest time, and then New York while I was working on my last two books. And it was great while it was great, you know? But it was just too much after a while, too much for Ellie, and too much for me.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch her gaze now that her sunglasses are pushed back up into her hair.
“So you made it to New York, huh?” That gets him a grin, her eyes crinkling up under her lashes at him.
“Yeah, the big leagues and all that shit.”
“How was it?”
“Lonely. I think I would have lost my mind if I didn’t have Ellie.” His heart twinges and then swells in his chest because he hates to hear that, and is also relieved to hear that, and then he hates himself for being relieved to hear that. That there wasn’t anyone else. 
“For what it’s worth, Cherry, I’m real glad to see you back here again.” No, that didn’t come out quite right, and he has to stop himself from physically wincing when she gives him a furrowed look in response. 
“I find that a little hard to believe, Joel.”
“Why?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?” He feels a long sigh leave his lungs, and she’s already hopping out of the trunk and brushing her hands down the front of her shorts as if to shake the conversation off.
“I am sorry, Cher, I–”
“Don’t, Joel. Don’t do that.” She shakes her head hard at him, eyes fierce for a moment before she slips her sunglasses back into place. 
“Well I am.” 
“Well I don’t want you to be. There’s no need for it when that was such a long time ago.” He wants to say something else, anything, but the tightness in his throat keeps the words stuck and simmering somewhere in his chest. She doesn’t look at him again, murmuring something about the game ending and wanting to help Ellie pack up, and all he can do is dumbly agree, shutting the trunk of her car and walking back toward the field a few paces behind her. Always a few paces behind her, it seems. 
Joel was full of shit. Something about fixing her car as soon as he could, something about it not taking too long. Yeah, bullshit. She has been sitting in the front office of the auto shop for the last three hours, trying and failing to get some writing done in her notebook amidst the seemingly ceaseless sounds of whirring drills, clanking and crashing metal, and the men in the garage cursing and carrying on amongst themselves. Though some of the sound has died down now that it’s just Joel working, the other men all clocking out at five o’clock. Meanwhile, he hasn’t even gotten to her car yet.
Everytime she glances into the garage, his legs are still sticking out from under a cream-colored mustang. When he does finally pop out from underneath the car, her hopes of getting out of the place soon are quickly dashed as someone pulls up to the gas pumps out front. She knows that car, a convertible in an obnoxious shade of turquoise that could only mean Maureen Henderson. Her daddy got her that car for her sixteenth birthday and she never stopped thinking she was hot shit for it ever since. 
She gets up from her cracked vinyl chair in the office to stand at the windows, trying to get a better look at their interaction. Joel is in fine form, of course, leaning down close over the driver’s side door, all grins, all popping gum with his jaw as Maureen rests a perfectly french-tipped set of fingers on his bicep. He must say something really funny for her to toss her head back like that, her teased-out hair bouncing with her tittering laugh. Joel slips around the front of the car, and, really, she thinks, is it so necessary for him to pump Maureen’s gas for her? Can Maureen really not just pump her own gas like a normal person? All a bit outdated, if you ask her. Though Maureen seems perfectly pleased with the whole production, leaning across the passenger’s side and slipping a few folded up bills into the back pocket of Joel’s coveralls while he’s turned away to set the pump back in its holster. How nauseatingly sweet of Maureen, who’s rewarded with another grin and something that must be really fucking funny for her to laugh so loud before she peels away from the shop with one more waggle of her fingers at him. Joel, meanwhile, seems in no hurry to get back to work as he moseys back into the garage, counting the bills that Maureen just tucked into his pocket with a stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, she’s seen quite enough.
“Hey, so I’m just wondering, when you said this wasn’t going to take too long, did you know that you were full of shit? Or is Maureen just that distracting?” Her eyes nearly water when she steps into the garage from the smell of motor oil and burnt rubber, though she’s a little too pissed to worry about that as she walks over to where Joel is rummaging through a tool box next to the mustang. 
“Aw, Cherry, don’t tell me you're jealous of little old Maureen.” She would like to smack his smile clean off his face, the only thing stopping her being the fact that she still needs him to fix her car. 
“I’m not jealous, Joel. I have been sitting in that office all afternoon watching you do everything except fix my car and I would like to go home now.” 
“So you’ve been watching me, huh?” 
“Christ, you really are relentless, aren’t you?” She honestly can’t believe he’s already bounced back to his incessant teasing after their little blow up in his truck, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and squinting at her as she huffs at him.
“Alright, Cher, you’ve waited long enough. I’ll take a look.” She follows close on his heels as he sidles over to her car, popping the hood and ducking his head under to look at the engine.
“Well?” Though she has no clue what he’s looking at, she still leans over the engine next to him, searching his face for any answers.
“Hmm, oh, here’s your problem.” He twists what looks like a loose knob down into the engine, shocking her with how quickly he stands back up with a satisfied smirk on his face. 
“That– that’s it?”
“Yep, loose spark plug.”
“And you couldn’t have fixed that earlier on the side of the road?”
“No, I could have, but then you wouldn’t have come and kept me company with your death glare all afternoon.” He can barely get his words out around a laugh. But she is decidedly not laughing. It’s completely impulsive, and maybe childish, but it feels good to shove the flat of both her palms into his chest, making him stumble back against the side of the mustang parked next to her car. And since it felt so good the first time, she decides to do it again, this time with enough force for his laughs to die out with a grunted oof. 
“You’re an ass, do you know that? A huge– fucking– ass–” Each word gets punctuated with another shove, though on the last one Joel wraps his hand around her wrists, collecting them both in a tight hold and only pulling her closer against his chest when she tries to yank away from him. 
“Let go, Joel.” Their faces are so close to each other’s that she can smell the cinnamon on his breath from that Big Red gum he likes to chew, can even see the freckle tucked between his lashes underneath his right eye, the same freckle that’s been there since they were kids. 
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I’m not gonna let go.” 
“You’re a fucking child.”
“That the best you got, Cherry baby?”
“Do not call me that.”
“Or else what?” A beat, a blink, a moment for her heart to sink into her stomach and shoot straight up into her throat when they both lurch into the space between them. There’s nothing nice about the first one, in fact, it hurts a little with how hard they both press into it, her nose mashing up against his as their teeth scrape and clash with each other. They kiss ugly. They kiss angry. Both of them too stubborn to let the other one get away with anything, the moment he licks into her mouth, she tangles her fingers in the back of his hair and tugs hard, swallowing down the grunt that looses from his throat. Though her upper hand is short-lived when Joel drops both his palms down to her ass and squeezes hard, her whole body jolting in his hold and pressing closer to him. He’s probably getting grease all over her clothes, but she’s not too concerned with that as she keeps drawing low little groans out of him every time she swipes her tongue against his. 
“Wait, Cher– shit, wait– I can’t– I don’t–” She finally pulls back when he keeps mumbling, and suddenly the reality of the situation comes plummeting down on her, starting to panic when it seems like Joel has decided this was all a big mistake.
“What, what is it?”
“I want to do this right with you– your– you should have a nice first time and–”
“Wait, what?” Joel’s eyes get wide and round, his hands dropping down by his sides from where they had been holding her hips when she takes a step back from him.
“Well, I, uh– you– you’re–”
“Joel, have you just assumed that I’m a virgin?” He winces at the word like it’s a curse, and she finally has to laugh at how ridiculous this is. 
“Does that mean you’re not?”
“Just shut up, Joel.” With that, she reaches forward for his waist where the sleeves of his coveralls are tied, making quick work of the knot and rucking his pants the rest of the way down as she kneels in front of him. She tucks her fingers into the band of his boxers, unable to help her grin when she feels his stomach tense against her knuckles.
“Can I?”
“Fuck, yeah, yes– you can do whatever you want, Cherry.” She likes him like this, with his throat bobbing and a crack in his voice pitching his words up an octave, his eyes wide and watching as she tugs his boxers down. And oh, she likes him like this too. Pretty boy who’s certainly pretty all over. The narrow tanness of his hips tapers into a dark thatch of curls, and well, there’s no two ways about it, he’s big, already hard, the tip flushed a perfect pink. Only a little intimidating, but judging by the sound he makes when she suckles the head of him into her mouth, she has it under control. 
“Oh my god– fuck, okay, fuck– you– you’re good at that– Jesus.” There’s a bit too much of him to take it all into her mouth, though she does her best to bob her head down his length, her hand wrapping around what she can’t quite reach as she laps at the vein running along the underside of his cock. A fleeting thought in the back of her mind, this was not how she imagined her day going, not in any universe. But something has snapped, something that cannot be stitched back together. And now, all she feels is an aching want, pulling taut in her stomach, pulling her to him. Want, want, want. She’s never wanted something so bad in her life, she thinks. Not very ladylike to want like this, to gag with it, to dribble spit around it, to see how much more she can take just to coax another broken moan out of his chest, her palms splayed out on his hips to keep him pinned still beneath all her want. But what she didn’t consider is that he wants it just as bad and big as she does, hooking his hand around the back of her neck to pull her off of him and hoist her onto her feet, chasing after the taste of himself on her tongue as he turns them around to press her up against the side of the car. 
“That was gonna be over too fucking soon if I let you keep doing that.” His hands get a little greedy, a little desperate, fumbling to get her t-shirt off before tugging her bra up and overhead without even unclasping it, ducking his head down to let his teeth scrape and nip at the newly exposed skin. He pauses only for a moment, pulling back, his parted lips shiny and blushing and his eyes heavy as he takes her in. She can’t help but drag her hand back through his hair, something tight settling in her chest when he absent-mindedly nudges his cheek closer into the cup of her palm. 
“You’re something else, Cherry.” She doesn’t have any time to ask him just what he means by that, his lips already finding hers again, a small gasp in the back of her throat at the feeling of her nipples dragging against the fabric of his wife beater. And then it’s an awkward, slow shuffle, given that his coveralls and boxers are still pooled and pulled around his ankles, around to the front of the car, his hands finding the backs of her thighs to coax her up and onto the hood. From there his palms start to wander, one coming to cup the side of her neck before slipping down to her breast, the boyish squeeze he leaves there making her laugh, though the sound dies fast when his other hand rests heavy at the waistband of her shorts, thumbing at the button. 
“Can I touch you, Cher?” It’s entirely too earnest, the way he’s looking at her from beneath the thick fan of his lashes, a small crease between his brows. And she’s a little afraid of how her want might skitter up her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss as her other hand bats his away to undo her shorts. Mercifully, it’s enough of an answer for Joel, his hand replacing hers and dipping down beneath the fabric of her panties, the broadness of his palm cupping her cunt and grinding up into her heat in a way that makes her gasp against his mouth. 
Annoyingly, he’s halfway decent at it, swiping his fingers through her cunt in a harsh rub, though she tenses up when he tries to immediately dip two of his thick fingers into her clenching entrance. 
“Jesus Christ, warm me up a little first, why don’t you?” He looks genuinely perplexed by her exclamation, his hand stilling beneath the fabric of her panties as his brow crumples in reaction. 
“What did I do wrong?” She tugs lightly at the hair at his nape, a light laugh leaving her lips when he lets out a huff like an impatient boy.
“You’re a bit harsh, Joel.”
“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.” Said with a roll of his eyes and his hand still down her pants so really, she has a hard time taking him seriously. 
“Well, I’m complaining. Just– gentler, here.” She clasps her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away, giving her room to shimmy her shorts and panties further down over the curve of her ass, the way Joel’s eyes instantly fall to where her legs have now splayed open a bit wider not getting lost on her. She fits her palm to the back of his hand, guiding it back to her cunt, her fingers pressing against the backs of his to direct a firm, swirling pressure to her clit. Her head tilts back on her neck as the pleasure settles over her slow and smooth, continuing to guide Joel’s hand with her own. 
“Just like that, s’perfect.” 
“Like that?” He says it so quietly, so uncharacteristically small that her attention snaps back onto him. His eyes are glued to where her hand is still moving his, lips parted, a look that borders on wonder and clear concentration, and suddenly, she can’t take her own gaze away from the sight, her head tilting on her shoulder as her hand falls away from his to let him do it on his own. 
“Yeah, Joel, feels really good like that. You can– you can add a finger now.” When he does, much slower, much softer, her eyes scrunch shut with a small curse and a sigh, and she finds herself leaning back on her elbows over the hood of the car, her whole body splayed out before him. Joel follows her slow fall, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand as he curls over her, his mouth resting hot and open between her breasts before he tilts his head to the side to take the peak of one of her nipples into his mouth. 
“That feel good, Cher?” 
“Yes, keep doing that, please. I– I’m gonna get there just like this.” Miracle, he listens, only adding another finger when she asks him for it, fucking her with his hand just how she wants him to. Miracle, she can’t tear her eyes away from his, the way he seems to be watching her face for every tell, every sigh and every fall. And miracle, she comes undone for him slowly, a cry catching in her throat when it finally hits her, the easiest unraveling. He only stops when she whines for him to, tugging his hand away and pulling him down for a kiss that’s more just two open mouths laying over each other than anything else. 
“Can we? Do you want to?”
“Yes, I want to.”
“Condom?”
“Birth control.”
“Gotta love women’s lib.” 
“Just don’t tell my mom.”
“Please don’t talk about your mom right now, Cher.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, just come here.” He struggles a bit to tug her shorts and panties off of her feet, the fabric getting caught on her sneakers, though when he’s finally successful it’s the easiest thing for his hips to slot with hers, his hands curling around the backs of her knees to hitch her legs around his waist. Her arms settle loosely around his shoulders, laying back and bringing him with her as he presses his cock against her swollen cunt. A quick snarl of pain that pleasure snaps and smacks after when drives into her with one languid stroke, both of them letting out stuttered sighs when his hips press against hers. All of that want flickering up and down her spine as he starts to fuck into her, spreading her open again and again. 
“S’a fucking dream, you’re a fucking dream.” She almost wants to laugh at the breathless murmuring of his words, because truthfully she doesn’t think anything has ever felt this real. Her body fitting around his, the way her heart is threatening to beat a break in her ribs, the way her nails can drag down the sliding wings of his shoulder blades, and the incessant, aching heat of him throbbing so deep inside her that she thinks she’ll still feel that hurt tomorrow. She hopes that she will. 
“Joel, look at me, please.” She has to tug on his hair to coax his face out of the hollow of her throat and suddenly that want is dangerous. Looking into the crumpled pleasure painted across his face, watery eyes and slack jaw, and that want becomes dangerous because that want becomes something more. 
She can feel her slick dripping down her thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the obscene slip of it, only a fleeting worry about making a mess of the car, though that flits away when Joel drags his fingers back over her clit a little harder, a little greedier.
“Just want one more, Cher, please.” She likes please on his tongue. Please pushes her right over the edge. A little harder this time, a little more ragged, furling up tight and taut around him before everything melts down with a whine of his name. He’s still saying please like a prayer when he comes, and all she can do is sigh with the warmth spreading inside of her. Inhale, exhale, her ribs expanding as his contract, a careful, quiet dance as they both come down, still pressed close, lips suggesting grazes. 
“Do you, uh, want to come up to my apartment?” Want says yes, a whisper her ears prick to under the obvious shout of no. Want says yes, over and over.
“Yeah, okay.”
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