i love mike ok


i have many witty captions for this:

“noses are important”

“family portrait”

“not fit to scale”

and of course “how many people combined do you think they’ve seen die?”

i will never EVER be able to get over Mike Wheeler. he’s willing to take in a girl he barely knows and keep her safe even though she’s obviously dangerous to be around. he pushed down his biggest bully in defense of a friend who wasn’t even present. he’s willing to fucking jump off of a cliff so his friend wouldn’t get hurt. he cares so deeply for other people and is extremely emotionally mature for his age. he’s genuinely kind hearted and does the things he does just to help others, not for any self gain. he deserves everything good in this world and i just wanna hug him


#personal space? #i don’t know her. #married 

And You’re Alive

pairing: connor murphy x reader

word count: 2500

warnings: swearing, car accident mention, death, weed mention

a/n: hehe because what is life without a little bit of connor angst? i love him. i love him and mike faist he makes me want to explode. ok ENJOY THIS <3

“You’re an idiot.”

Connor’s words are muffled – his hands are rubbing and running over his mouth, over his eyes, over his face. He’s been sweating for hours, his overweight denim jacket feeling even heavier under the hot, bright light of the hospital overheads. Yet, despite the moisture dripping down his skin, he doesn’t feel like anything is real. He doesn’t feel real. This all feels like a terrifying nightmare, every fear and every heartbreak seemingly picked from the very back of his brain, and if he rubs his face enough, he’s hoping he’ll wipe this fictional situation away and everything will be okay again.

“Such a fucking idiot.”

He wants to plug his ears; he wants to cover his eyes; he wants to wipe away all the proof that this is actually happening and fall asleep. He hasn’t slept for two days – he’s too scared that he’ll wake up and learn that you passed away while he was under. But he’s so goddamn tired of waiting around and not being able to help or do anything. It’s adding more exhaustion to what he’s already feeling, because he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s practically ripping his hair out over how helpless he feels. What would he do? You either survive or you don’t. It’s not like resuscitation would do anything for you now. He just has to wait. And waiting feels so awful, because he doesn’t know how this is going to end. He wishes he did. He wishes he could sleep and be promised you would wake up.

“You just… you just shouldn’t have fucking done it? It’s not rocket science or something. It’s… it’s just common sense.”

He pulls his hands away from his face and grabs his knees, leaning forward.

“You’re smarter than this. You’re so much smarter than this. Why would you risk yourself like that?”

He laughs bitterly, coldly. He’s not mad at you, of course. He would never be mad at you. He’s mad that this had to happen. He’s mad that this had to happen to you.

“Why would you risk your life?”

He gets up from the chair and moves slowly, sadly over to your bed. It creaks quietly when he sits down. But you don’t move.

“You’ve never done anything like this before. I should’ve been there, shouldn’t I?”

His hands – his damp hands – are shaking, but he still reaches forward to place it on your leg. He hopes that it doesn’t hurt.

“I’ll never do anything stupid like that again, okay? I-I’ll come with you wherever you want – even to parties. Even to the mall, even to restaurants – wherever you want me to come, I’ll come. But you have to wake up.”

You don’t move.





Giving up, he leans down; unties his boots and kicks them off; hoists his long, dangly legs onto the bed, tucks them under himself, and… lays his head on your stomach.

And he falls asleep.

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