Mike & Richie Imagines

Mike

Warning: Swearing and violence.

(Although I'm pretty sure y'all don't care.)

It was any normal day. Mike and you lived together now. He was at work and you were at home. You were in a relationship now, and living together in a small apartment.
It was relatively clean and ran along like any normal couple. Mike made a mess, you got mad and made him clean it. Being a couple didn't mean you two were relatively close. Maybe having fun every once a while, but not much of anything else. Both of you had jobs. There was no time to do much together once you got home. Weekends weren't much of an exception either. They were mostly spent sleeping in.
You were relaxing in the living room on the couch you and Mike would watch television on every once in a while. It was quiet. You were reading a book and just enjoying your time alone. You weren't sick or anything, you just didn't feel like working today. It was just one of those days.

You'd ordered a small pizza for lunch that was absolutely delicious. The empty box was sitting open on the table. There was an empty glass of pink lemonade on the coffee table next to you with a straw and ice still in it. All the reading you were doing had you thinking about you and Mike. He'd been ignoring you for a while now. You thought nothing of it. Maybe he's just stressed because of work, or he's just tired a lot. All the times you'd apologized for the smallest things was ridiculous. But he was mad, and just acting plain distant. He'd even went on a trip alone and didn't call for a while week, but you didn't care. You weren't that clingy, anyway.

You thought about calling him, but he was at work, and his lunch break was already over. He didn't call during his breaks like he used to. I'm fact, you two didn't interact almost at all. It was maybe a, "how was work," when someone got home, or asking to go out for groceries. No "I love you's," or cuddling on the couch. Nothing. No holding hands or just doing couple things. It rose a question.

Did Mike even love you?

Did he ever love you? It seemed like a good question to ask.

But that question was answered later that day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Another hour later and you were still sitting on the couch reading a different book. You'd finished the other one since it was relatively short book.
The sound of a car pulling up in the driveway faintly sounded out the window. Not long after the front door to the patio opened and clicked shut dryly. The fumbling of keys were heard and something even sounded like something heavy was thudding into the front door a few times.

The front door burst open to reveal Mike. And a woman. Making out.

Peachy.

They hadn't noticed you obviously sitting on the couch and watching. Waiting.
He pushed her onto the table and started kissing her mouth and neck while she giggled and let him do it. It was getting more heated as you watched. Most people seeing their partner with someone else would instantly react, but you wanted to get him cornered. So there was no way out.
You marked your page, closed the book, sat up straighter on the couch, and crossed your legs, waiting for your moment.

Right when he had his shirt off about to almost have sex on your kitchen table, you stood up.

"Mike!"
They jumped apart immediately.

"The hell!? So, you've just been sleeping with girls behind my back now?!"

"It's not what it looks like."

"Don't give me that bullshit! I saw everything! You can't give me that shit about 'oh, babe. It's not what it looks like! I wasn't about to have sex on your kitchen table because you weren't home!" You mocked him in a deep voice.
The woman got off the table and started to button up her shirt and fix her hair and skirt.

"Who are you?" you asked sternly.

She grabbed her purse off the floor.
"Jane."

"Well, then Jane. I'm gonna let you off the hook. You didn't know about me. But, I suggest you leave. Things are about to get ugly."

She bolted out of the door and shut it behind her. Right when you heard the patio door close, all hell broke loose.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it! I knew you were acting weird! It was just-" you let out a strained growl. "I thought it was because of work." You started laughing. "Oh I'm so stupid."

"Babe-"

"Oh, don't 'babe' me. You're not fixing this anytime soon. You're just going behind my back and screwing some white whore!"

You started pushing him. Even harder on whore.

"Shut up!" he shouted. He reached forward and struck you across the face.

He'd never done that. Not ever. Today was his lucky day. He was about to have the fight of his life.
You ran back to the couch while he was just inches behind.

"Get over here you bitch!"

He slammed your into the couch face first squishing your nose while you used your free hand and groped around feeling for the lemonade glass.
He started choking you from behind, making strange noises come from your throat, so the second you felt something cold and cylinder shaped in your hand you bent your arm and hit it over his head. He yelled and the couch and Mike became showered with glass.

He let go and sort of wobbled in place like he was still processing that you hit him. You rolled over and kicked him in the stomach making him fall backwards and smash through the glass coffee table. You ran into the kitchen and hid behind the island, making sure to have something with you.

You heard him shuffle around in the front room and his feet starting to trudge into the kitchen.

"Babe, come on. I can make it up to you." Oh, he was trying to play like that. Play nice to win you back. Not today.

You sprung up from behind the island and threw a large dinner plate at him with a cry of frustration. He had small peices of glass stuck into his face, chest, and hair. It hit the wall next to his head and broke into peices.

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

He moved closer, then broke into a run. You ran back around the island and into the front room trying to get away. You tripped over a lamp cord tearing it from the outlet. He caught you by the arm and slammed you into a mirror hung on the wall, making it smash into peices. It hurt. A lot. You cried out in pain. He did it again. Pain worked its way up the back of your neck, probably making it bleed.
He slammed you onto the floor as you kicked and fought trying to get him off. This isn't what it was supposed to be. This was supposed to be a good relationship. We were supposed to be happy.

You kneed him in the chin, yourself a little in the process. Hearing a nice pop and a scream from him you smirked. Probably busted a vein or something. Pushing him off while he was still dazed you ran into your bedroom. The one you shared with Mike. Going through his drawers you found Mike's gun. The baseball bat was a little too barbaric.
Going into the hallway you saw him at the end of it ready to get you.

"What the hell did I just say?"

He saw the gun and started to run towards the front door.

"Get out of my fucking house!"

Pursuing directly behind Mike he ran outside and down the wet driveway. Right as he was about to run into the night you fired the gun. He screamed and lost his balance, fell on his side, and hit the side of his face on the pavement. He started bleeding.
Poor fucking you.

You fired twice more as he got back up and ran to his car. He threw the car door open not bothering to close it and turned it on. He sped off into the night as you fired once more and then went back inside.

The rest of the night was spent staying silent and sitting on the couch all bloodied up, drinking out your thoughts while the house was an absolute mess.

And it was the best night you'd had in a long time.

Should I write more oneshots like this? I'm curious. And I'll detail this more later because right now it really isn't.